A/N: Sorry it is not a real chapter update, but I had these scenes rattling around in my head that didn't quite fit into the last chapter, but I wanted to let them out anyway. Just a few extra tidbits :)

**Bonus Scenes**

*Bonus Scene 1*

A/N: This scene takes place right before the hospital wing scene in the last chapter.

Sirius came pounding down the dormitory stairs. When he reached the bottom, he paused, eyes scanning the common room for his targets. When he spotted them, gathered around one of the sets of couches and low tables, a satisfied smirk curled on his lips.

Bounding forward, Sirius flung himself over the back of the couch on which two of his targets were sitting.

"Ladies," he greeted in a voice that was most likely aiming for suave but landed somewhere closer funny.

Lily rolled her eyes. "Shove off, Sirius," she said, leaning away from his intrusion.

"Oh, don't be like that! I need your help," he pouted.

"You need help all right," Gretta said from where she was reclining on the other end of the couch, "just not the kind any of us can provide."

Haleigh laughed. She and Milli were sitting on either side of the low table in the middle of a game of wizard's chess.

"Oh, come on," Sirius pleaded. "It's for Harry."

That got their attention. "What does Harry need?" Lily asked, sitting up a little straighter.

"And why couldn't he come ask us himself?" Milli added with a hint of suspicion.

"Harry needs to go to the hospital wing and he couldn't ask you himself because he is being a stubborn, pigheaded idiot."

"Pot, kettle," muttered Gretta just as Lily asked, "Hospital wing? What happened?" with open concern.

Glad to finally be making some headway, Sirius propped his head up on one hand so he could comfortably look over at Lily. "We think he hurt his wrist during tryouts yesterday. He's got a gnarly bruise and has been favoring it all day. He could barely even hold a quill when we were working on our Herbology essays this morning. But he refuses to go see Madam Pomfrey."

"Not that we are not brilliant, but why exactly do you think we can convince him to go to the hospital wing when you lot couldn't? For your many, many flaws, lack of persistence is not one of them," Milli pointed out, exasperated.

Sirius donned an offended look. "I have no flaws- unless you count being too handsome," he said with a waggle of his eyebrows. "And anyway, we don't need you to convince him, we need you to distract him. Harry lost his vote in this when he decided to vote wrong," he shrugged apathetically.

The girls looked like they didn't quite know how to feel about that statement. Lily looked like she wanted to argue with him, but couldn't come up with a valid counterpoint.

Sirius sagged, going boneless over the back of the couch with a sigh before looking up at them with a sincere expression. "You guys must know him well enough by now to realize that he would walk around all week with a broken wrist rather than voluntarily go see Madam Pomfrey. He's only going to make it worse by not going. Do you really want him to be in pain?" He asked earnestly.

"Fine," Lily ceded. "How exactly do you want us to help then?"

"Well ladies," Sirius said, snapping back into his debonair affectation, "I believe we can get him there with a little bit of teamwork." His smirk was back as well. "I figure we can tell him that we're going to the library and then you lot can distract him by talking about Charms or the Herbology essay or something while we just kinda, shepherd him to the infirmary instead."

"You really don't think he'll notice? The infirmary is on the opposite end of the school," Milli pointed out.

"Well that's where the distraction comes into play," Sirius said as if that were obvious, rolling his eyes. "If you lot can manage to do your job right then we'll be able to get him there no problem," he said confidently. "Plus, with enough of us around him, the shrimp won't be able to see where he's going," he chuckled.

"Fine," Lily bit out again. "We'll help Harry." And they all started packing their things, chess match abandoned for more important matters.

*Bonus Scene 2*

A/N: This scene takes place later in the day after the potions incident at the end of the last chapter.

After dinner, the majority of the Gryffindor 6th years schlepped themselves back to the Potions lab. Haleigh and Milli were the only two not a casualty of that morning's explosion, so all of the rest of them were forced to return in order to redo that day's potion or, in Harry's case, serve his detention.

Slughorn had been so kind as to leave the mess completely untouched all day which meant it was now congealed and crusted onto every surface that it touched.

As they all slouched into the classroom, Professor Slughorn called out, "Mr. Doe- you will find a bucket and scrub brush over by the sink. The rest of you may set up at the front tables and get to work. I expect six perfect Wound-Cleaning potions on my desk within the hour. Mr. Doe, you will be here until this mess is properly cleaned."

Harry barely let out a small sigh as he dropped his bag next to James' workstation and headed over to the sink to begin his task. The others threw slightly pitying looks at his back as they pulled out their books and set to work on their own projects.

Harry let the water run until it was steaming hot before filling the bucket with a mix of cleaning solutions until it was nice and foamy. He lugged the bucket out of the sink and over to the far corner of the room. Upon closer inspection, the only place not covered in the sticky muck was the small circles where everyone's cauldrons had sat. At least scrubbing was one thing Harry actually knew how to do, so he rolled up his sleeves and set to work.

The other Gryffindors were so focused on their brews and Harry was so quiet that they soon forgot he was there at all. If it hadn't been for the occasional subtle sloshing of the bucket and the faint scraping of bristles on stone, they may have been inclined to think the other boy had skived off while no one was looking. When one of those minute noises did catch someone's attention, they would look back and catch sight of Harry, bent over, hard at work.

If it had been anyone else, there would have been moaning and complaints about the unfairness of the task, about how it was too much for just one person to clean or how the explosion hadn't actually been his fault. But instead, there was an eerie silence as the small boy diligently scrubbed. Sweat dripped down his face unnoticed, mixing with the suds of his brush dragging across the uneven stones as he put his whole body into the effort of scraping up the dried potion.

The sight actually made James a little sick. The way he worked, Harry more closely resembled a house elf than a sullen teenager serving detention. He only paused in his efforts to push his glasses back up as they slipped down his nose in his crouched position. His face was completely devoid of any emotion- just a stoney mask of dedication to his task. James shivered at the blank look in his eyes.

When Harry was finished, the wood of the work tables gleamed and there was a noticeable clean spot on the floor where he had scrubbed away not just the potion, but years worth of dirt and grime from student's shoes, spilled ingredients, and potion fumes. Harry actually looked a little upset as he evaluated his work, staring down at the stark line demarcating where he had stopped cleaning and the rest of the grungy dungeon floor began. His hands twitched slightly as if they wanted to get back in there and properly finish the job. But with a firm shake of his head, Harry clenched his fists once, tightly, before stooping down to gather his supplies, returning them to the sink, and washing them out. Once they were set aside to dry, he headed up to the professor's desk to let Slughorn know that he was done.

The professor's head shot up from where it had been stooped, grading papers. "Already?" He asked in a disbelieving tone.

"Yes, sir," Harry said quietly, with a nod.

"Hmm…" Slughorn hummed as he stood up and came around the desk to go inspect the boy's work. When he reached the previously ruined portion of the classroom, he had to admit he was impressed. It was honestly probably the cleanest the room had ever been. "And you did not use any magic?" He asked with an eyebrow raised.

"No, sir," Harry said quickly. Slughorn looked skeptical.

"It's true, sir," James put in from the front of the room where he was working. "We could see him working. Just look at his hands." While James could not see Harry's hands from so far away, he was confident with how hard the boy had been scrubbing that there would be some evidence of his efforts to be found there.

Returning his gaze to the boy in front of him, Slughorn conceded and asked, "May I see your hands, Mr. Doe?"

After a moment's hesitation, Harry shook his sleeves back and displayed his angry, red palms that had been irritated by the combination of cleaning products and vigorous scrubbing.

"Very well. You may leave," Slughorn told him. "And if that doesn't clear up in the next hour or so, please go see Madam Pomfrey," he added as Harry was already heading over to grab his back and take his leave. Harry gave a small nod in acknowledgement before slipping his bag carefully over his shoulder, minding his tender hands. He flashed the others a short smile before slipping out of the room. The remaining Gryffindors traded slightly uneasy looks.

After they all finished their redone potions in the next ten or so minutes, the group left together, casting warry looks at the clean spot Harry had created on the floor. For a long while, that spot served as an unsettling reminder to the rest who had been present that day of Harry's slightly unnerving behavior, though none of them ever actually brought it up.