Chapter 2: Blood Without a Wound

Lush fields and farms flashed by as the scarlet steam engine sped through the countryside. Above, the late morning sky nearly glowed blue and the clouds almost shimmered in the bright sun. However, it did not stay like this on the journey to Hogwarts. As the Hogwarts Express traveled farther north the air grew heavy and wet, not too mention cold. But no moaning and groaning winds blew, but several students moaned and groaned (and made colorful comments) for they could predict the impending rain that would arrive, even if they had no skills in divination.

One student, though, paid no attention to the rapidly changing weather that afternoon; nor to anything around him actually. Students pounded heavily on the compartment door but after awhile they left after realizing that he was never going open the door for them. They could have just unlocked the door with a spell but none of them really wanted to sit with him; if he wasn't going to open the door on his own he most likely wasn't going to be much company. And, for a few, he scared them.

Harry Potter sat in that compartment, book in hand, ignoring the world around him. The lady with snacks had already shown up so now the only people he was waiting for were his friends Ron and Hermione. He was more aware of the students banging on the door then he let on, but he had no desire to talk with them, much less have them ask annoying questions that he would rather not answer.

Recently, he had found questions to be quite annoying. It wasn't that he terribly hated all the questioning, though he did dislike it; his inability to answer was what annoyed him. Questions that he wouldn't answer because he couldn't; how was he expected to tell what happened at the Dursleys' when he couldn't remember what happened? Even his memories of the beginning of the summer were failing him.

So now, questions were a no-no. Especially after everyone realized that it was not just teenage hormones keeping him quiet. Now no one asked him questions that probed deeper than he could answer, though no one truly trusted his "I'm fine" answers anymore; not he expected them to; he didn't even believe them himself.

For a few minutes Harry was asleep, though not a normal sleep; his bright green eyes were still open and he was still sitting up straight. Then he woke up with no more than a blink and a slight movement of the shoulders. If anyone had been looking in they would have thought he was just growing stiff. Indeed, he was growing stiff, but that was not the reason he woke. Someone had been looking in; three people actually. Three people who had earned a high spot on his list of most hated people. (There is an actually list, but that's another story.)

A pale, pointed boy his age with a silver badge sauntered into the compartment, along with two heavyset boys, standing around the pale one like bodyguards. Smugness and self-thought superiority radiated from the pale boy. Harry noted that he had grown over the summer; he was not as tall as the large ones, but he was still taller than Harry, like everyone seemed to be.

"Poor, little Potter," Draco Malfoy said as smugly as the smile almost permanently plastered to his face, "all alone." Harry could count on one hand the number of times he had seen Malfoy without that infuriating smirk; he also noticed the emphasis on little.

"Go away, Malfoy," he droned in monotone, not bothering to look up. Peripheral vision was a great thing, even with glasses.

Malfoy made no move to leave. "I guess Weasel and the Mudblood don't want to be associated with you anymore," he drawled on.

Shut up, Harry thought bitterly, putting the book aside. His hands were starting to shake violently and didn't want anyone to see that. "Go away, Ferret." He allowed himself an internal smile at the insult.

"Probably thought they would have got themselves killed if they stayed around you," Malfoy continued on as though he hadn't heard Harry, though his pale face was tinged pink. "I wouldn't blame them, as all you can do is get people killed."

"I do not- "Harry started, arms tight against his sides. His hands were balled into fists, and his knuckles were white.

"Cedric could beg to differ," Draco interrupted.

Suddenly, as he plunged his hand into his pocket for his wand, Harry felt himself loose control. Not that he leapt out of his seat and started attacking Malfoy, though he would have like that. But he literally lost control.

What the hell? he thought in distress as something burst from the back of his mind, somewhere unknown, and invaded his entire body, leaving nothing in his own control. He felt himself take on not only the role of passenger in his own body but also as a fifth, separate being in the compartment. It was all very strange, seeing yourself as though it were a movie, yet still being there. All that in a matter of seconds.

 he thought in distress as something burst from the back of his mind, somewhere unknown, and invaded his entire body, leaving nothing in his own control. He felt himself take on not only the role of passenger in his own body but also as a fifth, being in the compartment. It was all very strange, seeing yourself as though it were a movie, yet still being . All that in a matter of seconds.

Harry saw his posture straighten, giving him the impression of some height; his face became a mask of subtle emotions. His bright green eyes burned fiercely with unseen light, almost feline. Like a tiger closing in on its prey.

Whatever that was controlling him stood, fist still clenched tightly at his sides, and said two words in a combination that he never would have said if he were in control, one of which he would have never said. The second word was "off" while the first started with an "f" and rhymed with duck.

Malfoy was struck silent. Slowly, he backed away from him. This was not Potter. He didn't know what it was, but he did know two things: one, that it wasn't Potter, and two, that his primal instinct was telling that there was not only safety in numbers but also in distance. Somehow, he not only managed to get away from Harry without any damage done to anything other than his pride, but also without ever turning his back on him. He didn't even make a snide comment when Weasley and Granger hurried by.

Ron and Hermione shot strange looks at Malfoy as he moved quickly in a crab-like fashion; neither of them had even seen anyone walk so strangely or so quickly. Even Crabbe and Goyle, who followed after Malfoy, were just as confused, albeit they seemed to live in a state of confusion. Ron and Hermione shot identical looks at each other over Malfoy's strange behavior then continued on their way to their usual compartment.

Harry, sitting in said compartment, regained control with a jolt. He jumped in his seat as he felt himself returning, as though it had just been a dream he suddenly woke from. It certainly felt like one. He breathed deeply and leaned back in the seat. Whatever that had taken over his body returned to wherever it came from. Nothing told that it had ever taken over, except for Harry's certainty that something did force him from control.

What was that? he thought in confusion and horror, horror that it might take him over again. At least he knew what was going on. But what if next time he didn't know? What if people questioned? Would there even be a next time?

 he thought in confusion and horror, horror that it might take him over again. At least he knew what was going on. But what if next time he didn't know? What if people questioned? Would there even a next time?

"Harry, are you in there?" A familiar voice floated through the door. It was Hermione.

Hermione and Ron! he yelled cheerfully in his mind. The weariness that had invaded his body after the possession vanished. He was about to slide the door open for them but stopped as he felt something on his hand.

Blood.

Blood still warm slid down his hand. He brought up the other hand, only to see it too dripped with blood. He quickly rubbed them clean on his trousers (which were thankfully old and dark and hid the blood stain). He almost considered wrapping his wounds in bandages when he noticed something.

His hand, though slightly stained from blood, bore no wounds. No cuts, scratches, or even fingernail markings marred his hands.

He turned his hands over. Nothing was much different on this side, except that he could see that the tips of his fingernails were stained red, red with blood.

What the hell?

"Harry?" came Ron's voice. "Are you there?"

Shaking his head, Harry ignored the mysteries of his hands and slid open the door. Worrying about what happened could come later, now that his friends were here.

Hours had gone by, and night had fallen. A light rain fell on the students as they boarded off the train. The first years grumbled slightly in confusion and from being wet. The older students were just glad that it wasn't storming like the year before.

"Is there anything you have to do?" Harry asked, looking around the station for Hagrid, the giant of a man (though he was only half-giant). He took off his glasses and cleaned them, only to find them becoming clouded in a matter of seconds again. He groaned and removed them. He wasn't sure if he hated light rain or straight downpours more, but he knew he hated rain. And coming inside on a cold day so his glasses fogged up. That sucked royally.

"Oh, give me those," Hermione said, snatching the glasses from Harry before he could protest. "Impervious!" She handed them back to him.

"Thanks, Hermione." He slid them back on his nose.

Ron looked around the station, too. He had an advantage, standing head and shoulders above Harry. "We don't have to do anything until after the feast," he told Harry, "and the password's Alchemy."

"Firs' years!" a loud voiced boomed. "Firs' years, this way!" A large, wild-haired person towered over the students, including the tall ones like Ron, who he spotted. "All right, you three?"

They managed to give him a thumbs up, but they were swept away by the rest of the students before the conversation could progress any further. They followed and were followed by the rest of the school down a dark, muddy path. A hundred horseless stood waiting to take them to Hogwarts. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and a round face, forgetful boy named Neville Longbottom climbed into one, the door snapped shut, and they were off.

Within the carriage, though completely dry, it was uncomfortable. The silence seemed to engulf the entire space and still grew larger. The trio couldn't speak about much around Neville, as they would wind up talking about Sirius, Harry's escaped convict Godfather, and Neville himself seemed too nervous to speak. Harry inwardly sighed. Nobody except for the Weasleys and Hermione seemed to be able to speak normally around him, or at all (he wasn't sure about his godfather as he hadn't actually spoken to him). Everyone else seemed to clam up, or avoid the topic of Voldemort (or You-Know-Who, as they would say). Harry didn't want to bring up the subject either, as whenever he did, even just to himself, he would have nightmares that night.

They passed through the gates in silence and trekked up to the school in silence, though everyone around them chatted happily. They walked painfully slowly in the entrance hall as everyone pushed and shoved to get into the great hall.

"I believe you, Harry."

His whisper was barely heard, but Neville smiled nervously at Harry before joining fellow fifth years Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan at the Gryffindor table. Harry nodded once and mouthed "thanks" before sitting down, keeping the near silent conversation private.

"What did Neville say?" Hermione asked, sitting across from Harry.

"Nothing," Harry lied as Ron sat down next to Hermione.

"When's the feast going to start? I'm hungry," Ron moaned, completely changing the subject. Harry and Hermione rolled their eyes simultaneously.

"Soon, Ron, soon," Hermione said in a tone that implied that indoor voices were to be used, dear. She squinted at the head table. "Is that the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?" She pointed at someone up there.

Harry looked at the table. Hagrid had just taken his seat at the table (Harry waved and he waved back), so the only empty seat was Professor McGonagall's, next to Headmaster Dumbledore, who was resting his chin on long, steepled fingers. Next to McGonagall's empty seat was the hook nosed, much hated Potions Master, Professor Snape. He was glaring angrily down the table at a unfamiliar face.

That face was of a young woman, in her mid-twenties at the latest, with gray-blue eyes glaring with equal venom back. Her curling chestnut brown hair was pulled back in a loose braid, with a black ribbon wrapped around it. As far as anyone could tell, she wore a form-fitting, full-length black dress under her black lace robes with bell sleeves that swept the ground.

"I think so," Harry said, taken aback slightly. Never had they a teacher this young before, nor a defense professor that was female. However, she was already getting on Harry's good side as she glared venomously at Snape.

"I like her," Ron said brightly, wearing a look on his face similar to the one Harry wore whenever Cho Chang was around. As Hermione came close to strangling Ron, Harry looked around for Cho at the Ravenclaw table, remembering her instantly. How was she? Would she still be crying over Cedric? However, Harry could see neither hide nor hair of her. She may have been short, but not so short that she could hide easily behind someone.

Where's Cho? he thought sadly, almost desperately. He scanned the long table again, more carefully this time, but saw nothing of her. He kept searching up and down the tables, all of them, for any glimpse of the Chinese girl. Suddenly, applause broke out around the hall, along with muttering and whispers.

Harry jumped slightly in his seat, realizing that he was resting his chin on his hand. "What?" he asked. "What happened?"

"Just the strangest sorting song ever," Ron said a bit sarcastically.

"Ron!" Hermione snapped. She hit him upside the head.

"Ow!" he complained, rubbing the spot where Hermione smacked him. "What? It's true! The Sorting Hat's never done a song like that before."

"Well, yes, it certainly has branched out a bit this year," Hermione agreed, watching the first years get sorted.

Harry stared blankly at them. "How was the song so different this year?"

"Besides house descriptions, it went on for a bit how 'we must unite' or something like that," Ron said, scratching his head. "It was weird."

"It said that all the houses must start getting along with each other, lest we fall," Hermione briefed, giving the condensed version of the song. "I wonder if it ever has given warnings before?"

"Yes, it has," Nearly Headless Nick knowledgeably, leaning through a student between them (who winced when Nick passed through him; it was uncomfortable to have a ghost lean through you). "The hat feels honor-bound to give advice whenever it feels the school is in danger."

"That's helpful," Hermione whispered as the sorting ceremony began.

"But to get along with the Slytherins?" Harry whispered back. He glanced over at Malfoy who was watching the ceremony with narrowed eyes. "Yeah, that'll happen when the sky falls." He wanted to say "when pigs fly" but that could be done.

"You never know," Nick said airily. And he left it at that.

They decided to think about this later, stopped talking, and watched the new students be sorted. When the last student walked to their house table, Professor McGonagall rolled up the parchment she carried and took her seat at the table. Dumbledore rose from his seat and smiled at the students; all conversation ceased, and they waited with bated breath.

Harry, for the first in a long time, relaxed. Everything in his life seemed so strange, even himself; he wasn't sure about much anymore. But now, despite the almost regular doubt that Hogwarts and the magical world were all just a dream,

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts," Dumbledore said. "I would like to make a few announcements, but not at this moment. Tuck in!"

Food appeared on the golden plates, and the goblets filled with drink. Ravenous, Harry and Ron helped themselves to everything within and out of reach.

It was a delicious feast. Though Hermione and Ron had an argument about manners (Ron had been talking with his mouth full) and spent the rest of the meal in silence, Harry was far too use to their bickering to try and reconcile them. He just worked his way through the food on his plate, though at about halfway through it he began to regret putting so much food on his plate. However, the regret quickly vanished, as did the bloated feeling he had, when the plates cleared and dessert appeared. He spooned many spoonfuls of ice cream and a large serving of treacle tart onto his plate. There was always room for dessert.

I really shouldn't have eaten as much, Harry ruefully thought after the last of the dessert had been cleared away. If he had felt bloated after dinner, he was quite sure he had gained a few pounds by now. His pants felt uncomfortably tight, even though they were Dudley's previously. However, Dumbledore was due to make his customary start-of-term speech, so he forgot about the imaginary tightness of his trousers and paid attention.

"So!" he began. "Now that you've been watered and fed I would like to make a few start-of-term notices.

"First, Mr. Filch, the caretaker, would like me to point out the number of objects banned from Hogwarts. However, we don't have the time for that now so the full list can be viewed in Mr. Filch's office, if anyone would like to check."

His mouth twitched and then he continued. "I would also like to point out to the first years that the Forbidden Forest is not a misnomer and is forbidden, and would like a few of the older students to make note of that too." His gaze fell upon a few students at the Gryffindor table that shall go unnamed but smirked at each other at this. "Hogsmeade is also forbidden to students under third year.

"I would like to note that Quidditch will resume this year." He paused as people cheered. "And tryouts will take place the second week of the term and anyone who would like to play for their house team should contact Madame Hooch.

"Also, joining our staff this year is Professor Merle, who has kindly taken up the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts."

There was a polite applause, though some clapped more loudly than others, for during the entire feast and Dumbledore's speech she hadn't stopped glaring at Snape. She really seemed to hate Snape. And the proverb about one being the enemy of their enemy was their friend certainly fit at that moment.

"Due to events recent and past," Dumbledore continued when the applause quieted, "relationships with the magical communities outside of Europe have been strained. So, it an attempt to remedy this, the International Confederation of Wizards is reinstating a centuries-old exchange program that was discontinued during the times of Grindelwald and never continued. Till now, that is.

"One student from each school is sent to learn magic under a new environment and culture. Our own Cho Chang of Ravenclaw will be representing us and has begun attending Ru Heng in China. The student who will be attending Hogwarts has a few details to sort out and will be arriving shortly.

"Now, since that is everything of importance, and it is getting late, bedtime! Chop chop!" Dumbledore sat back down again and started speaking with McGonagall.

Scraping and banging was heard around the great hall as everyone made for the entrance hall. Harry, Ron, and Hermione, among other students, had worried looks on their faces, all remembering what happened the last time foreigners came to the school. Some remembered in clearer detailed than others and made them pale of face.

"What is Dumbledore thinking?" Ron whispered vehemently as he stood up. "Doesn't he remember what happened the last time foreigners were here?"

"Ron!" Hermione reprimanded, her voice no more than a whisper. "The International Confederation of Wizards have had this plan in motion long before they decided to bring back the triwizard tournament. The plan was too far in motion to stop after what happened during the third task."

Harry and Ron shot dumbfounded looks at Hermione. "And how do you know that?" Harry whispered incredulously. He briefly wondered why they were whispering but did not think much on it. He was being increasingly distracted easily by things.

"I read it in the Daily Prophet. They don't print rubbish all the time," Hermione added when she saw the expressions on her friends' faces grow even more stupider looking. "Now, Ron and I have to show the new first years to the dormitories, so…"

Harry, after regaining his composure, waved a hand around impatiently. "Don't worry, I understand. I'll meet you there later."

"Okay, then," Ron said, regaining his composure as well. "Get back to the tower soon, though. You don't look well."

Harry took on the look of mock-indignity. "And you sound like a mother," he commented dryly, though Ron was probably right; he didn't feel good. However, after sticking his tongue out at him, Ron still looked a bit worried. "Alright, alright, I won't stay out long."

Ron smiled and nodded. "See you later," he said. "Oy, midgets! Over here!"

"Ron!"

At this Harry left the great hall. He had seen too many of Ron and Hermione arguments to know better than to not interfere.

Wow, that took a long time to write. Apologies and cookies for the delay, but school is evil, and I am a procrastinator with Reoccurring Writer's Block Syndrome and ADD. The next chapter will still be slow, but the new DADA teacher gets introduced more thoroughly.

disappears in puff of smoke I will return!

reappears in a puff of smoke Before I forget, I don't own Harry Potter, JKR does. Ciao! disappears again