Throughout the entire month of November and the beginning of December, everyone was steering painfully clear of Harry. Every time he entered a room, people would hush their whispers and whirl around the opposite direction—the Hufflepuffs especially were frightened of him. There was no better word for it; Justin Finch-Fletchley stopped being our Herbology partner, choosing instead to join Ernie and Hannah without so much as a word of goodbye. His classmates were always finding excuses to be out of the same room that we were in. Even if we sat in the very corner of the libaray together, people would leave in favor of studying in their own common rooms.
Seeing as we had been ignored by almost all of the school the previous year for losing one hundred and fifty points in one night, this sudden disapproval from the rest of our classmates was nothing new. Harry and I were able to handle it relatively well, but… there was something that made it worse than the previous year.
Even Hermione and Ron were uneasy around Harry now. Each time we saw them, they waved hesitantly; when we took our places next to them for classes or for meals, they were quiet. They claimed that nothing had changed, that they were just tired—but they weren't fooling anyone.
"Can you believe this?" asked Harry one evening, as we sat in an otherwise deserted common room together, struggling through Potions homework. "No one even wants to get within two meters of me."
I smiled sadly and shrugged. "I'm sorry, Harry. I wish I could help."
He sighed and ran a hand through his unruly black hair—then he paused and glanced sideways at me. "I didn't mean… I'm really glad you're still here, Belle. I just—you know what I meant."
"I did," I said, eyeing him seriously. "And you know what I meant, too."
As time went on and winter began falling across the castle grounds, this infuriating behavior persisted. It was like Harry was a ticking time-bomb, one that did not have a visible countdown for. He was able to ignore this for the most part, but it was obvious that these attitudes were beginning to grate his nerves. It took everything I had to keep his spirits up, and reassure him that at least with us, things wouldn't change.
Luckily, the Quidditch team went back to normal by the time December was fully upon us. The next game that Gryffindor was scheduled for was in February, and it was against Ravenclaw.
Oliver had not forgotten his mania for Quidditch in the short month and a half it had been since the dueling club. He trained us harder, faster—no matter what.
"I don't care if you petrify me, Harry," said Oliver with a smirk, one that clearly indicated he was just teasing. "So long as you catch the Snitch for us in our other two games this year first."
Soon enough, there were only two days before Christmas break. Harry and I were lounging in one of the corridors of the castle, two stolen mugs of hot chocolate from the Great Hall in our hands, talking about how we were going to spend our upcoming weeks off.
"I'd ask you if you wanted to come back to London with me, but…" I sighed, shaking my head. "I think you, Ron, and Hermione have other plans instead, unless that's changed when I wasn't looking."
Harry nodded. "We're still going to do it. Ron and Hermione have been getting a little better around me, at least. Hopefully things will be all right by the time the holidays roll around."
I bit the inside of my lip and clutched the mug of hot chocolate closer to my chest. "Are you sure? The offer's always open… Robbie even said so, if you ever need a place to stay…"
"I'm sure," he answered, and the way he looked at me, with such certainty in his gaze, said that he spoke the truth. "At this point, I think the only way I'll get everyone to stop hating my guts is if I find a way to prove that I'm not the Heir of Slytherin."
This was a good point. Sighing, I said, "I suppose that's fair…"
Harry smiled at me, though the gesture was slightly hollow. "It sounds nice, though, to be able to celebrate the holidays out of the castle. I just wish I could start fixing this mess… starting with Justin. I've barely even seen him around."
"How about this?" I asked with a shrug. "I'll come with you, and we can find Justin together. Then we can explain."
Harry shot me a grateful look and swung his legs off of the windowsill, back to the ground. "Yeah, let's go."
The first place we headed for was the library, figuring the Hufflepuffs would be getting their holiday homework out of the way so they wouldn't have to worry about it over break—and we were right. Close to the back of the library, there were a number of Hufflepuffs. None of them were Justin, however, and upon closer inspection, it didn't look like they were studying…
Before I could advise Harry against it, he walked toward them, leaving me no other choice but to follow.
As we got closer, we could hear whispers and hisses. I recognized Ernie MacMillan's voice murmuring, "I told Justin to hide up in our dormitory. I mean to say, if Potter's marked him down as his next victim, it's best if he keeps a low profile for a while. Of course, Justin's been waiting for something like this to happen ever since he let slip to Potter he was Muggle-born. Justin actually told him he'd been down for Eton. That's not the kind of thing you bandy about with Slytherin's heir on the loose, is it?"
"You definitely think it is Potter, then, Ernie?" asked a blonde girl. I grabbed Harry's arm and tried to pull him away, but he just shot me a knowing look and wouldn't move an inch.
"Giselle, he's a Parselmouth. Everyone knows that's the mark of a dark wizard. Have you ever heard of a decent one who could talk to snakes? They called Slytherin himself Serpent-Tongue… Remember what was written on the wall? Enemies of the Heir, Beware. Potter had some sort of run-in with Filch. Next thing we know, Filch's cat's attacked. That first year, Creevey, was annoying Potter at the Quidditch match, taking pictures of him while he was lying in the mud. Next thing we know—Creevey's been attacked."
The blonde girl, Giselle, spoke up again. "He always seems so nice, though. And well, he's the one who made You-Know-Who disappear. He can't be all bad, can he?"
Ernie leaned closer to her, a thin veil of mania unhidden on his face. "No one knows how he survived that attack by You-Know-Who. I mean to say, he was only a baby when it happened. He should've been blasted into smithereens. Only a really powerful dark wizard could have survived a curse like that. That's probably why You-Know-Who wanted to kill him in the first place. Didn't want another Dark Lord competing with him. I wonder what other powers Potter's been hiding?"
I looked back to Harry to see he was shaking; whether it was out of despair or anger I couldn't tell. But he cleared his throat and walked out into view of the Hufflepuffs—I followed, keeping a hand on his arm for both comfort and security.
The Hufflepuffs all blanched when they saw him, and their fear didn't wear away as Harry said, "Hello. I'm looking for Justin Finch-Fletchley."
The group shared a startled look. It was Ernie who met Harry's eye and mumbled, "What do you want with him?"
"I wanted to tell him what really happened with that snake at the Dueling Club."
Ernie bit his lip. "We were all there. We saw what happened."
"Then you noticed that after I spoke to it, the snake backed off?" asked Harry, almost hopefully.
His hopes were quickly dashed. "All I saw was you speaking Parseltongue and chasing the snake toward Justin," answered Ernie resolutely.
"I didn't chase it at him! It didn't even touch him!" exclaimed Harry.
"Harry," I whispered, moving my hand from his arm to his shoulder. "We'll just find Justin on our own to explain, we don't need to waste our time here—"
"Belle, please don't," said Harry, still looking at the Hufflepuffs. His lips pursed. "So what did you see then? What did you see happen?"
Ernie moved his gaze from me to Harry—he had been looking at me strangely, as if wondering whether I truly believed Harry or, even worse, was in cahoots with him or something of the sort. "A very near miss was what I saw happen. And in case you're getting ideas, I might tell you that you can trace my family back through nine generations of witches and warlocks and my blood's as pure as anyone's, so—"
"I don't care what sort of blood you've got!" retorted Harry. "Why would I want to attack Muggle-borns?"
"I've heard you hate those Muggles you live with."
Harry laughed sourly. "It's not possible to live with the Dursleys and not hate them. I'd like to see you try it."
The Hufflepuffs had nothing to say to that; they just shot each other uncertain looks and wriggled in their seats, obviously uncomfortable. Realizing that he wasn't getting anywhere, Harry stormed off, fists balled. My hand fell from his shoulder back down to my side—I stared hopelessly after him for a moment before turning to the Hufflepuffs. In a last-ditch attempt, I gasped, "Please—give him a chance," before rushing after my friend.
I caught up to him after a few seconds; he was taller than me and therefore had longer legs, so I had to run to catch up. When I finally found him, I opened my mouth to try and say something that might cheer him up… but before I could, we ran straight into Hagrid, who still had snow flecking his ginormous fur coat.
"Oh, hello, Hagrid," said Harry.
Hagrid smiled, but there was something limp in his hand—a dead chicken. "All righ', Harry? Belle? Why aren't yeh in class?"
"Cancelled," said Harry. This was true; Herbology had been cancelled due to inclement weather. The snow was still piling up outside, blocking a few of the less-traveled doors of the castle. "What're you doing in here?"
Hagrid held up the chicken—only then did I realize it was a rooster. Silly me.
"Second one killed this term," was Hagrid's answer. "It's either foxes or a Blood-Suckin' Bugbear, an' I need the Headmaster's permission ter put a charm around the hen coop." He looked at Harry a bit more closely. "Yeh sure yeh're all righ'? Yeh look all hot an' bothered—Belle, you're a bit pale yourself…"
"It's nothing," Harry said quickly. "We'd better get going, Hagrid."
Harry stalked off again, leaving me behind for a moment. I waved to Hagrid again and cried, "Happy holidays, Hagrid!" before chasing after him.
"Harry—slow—down!" I exclaimed, trotting to keep up. He reduced his pace but didn't look at me as he stomped up the stairs and turned a corner—
We froze. There upon the floor in the middle of the corridor, was Justin Finch-Fletchley. Hovering right next to him was Nearly Headless Nick, but he was not translucent as he normally was… he was black and smoking. Justin and Nick had identical looks of surprise on their faces.
"Harry, we should get out of here," I said, pulling at his arm. But Harry was frozen with shock. He stumbled blankly toward Justin and Nick instead, as if he hadn't heard me at all. "Harry! We should really go!"
Too late. Peeves burst through a wall, cackling as he did cartwheels. He stopped straight over Justin's body, which Harry was less than a meter away from. "Why, it's potty wee Potter and Dumbbell! Why're Potter and his girly-friend Dumbbell lurking—"
His spectral eyes landed on Justin and Nick.
"ATTACK! ATTACK!" shrieked Peeves, whirling upside-down in the air. "ANOTHER ATTACK! NO MORTAL OR GHOST IS SAFE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! ATTAAAACK!"
Harry tried to shush him, but no joy. Before long, there were stampedes of footsteps: Professor McGonagall, followed by her class, rushed into the hallway. There was a loud commotion as everyone discovered what was going on, but McGonagall quickly ordered everyone back to their classrooms.
I used this brief moment of disorganization to yank Harry beside me again—if he was going to get in trouble, I wasn't going to let him get in trouble alone.
Peeves swirled overhead, grinning wickedly down at those who had ignored Professor McGonagall and had stayed to watch the chaos. He saw the look on Harry's face and decided to add to his misery, singing:
Oh, Potter, you rotter, oh, what have you done,
You're killing off students, you think it's good fun—
"That's enough, Peeves!" shouted Professor McGonagall. She quickly commanded a couple other professors to carry Justin up to the hospital wing before conjuring a large fan and giving it to a Ravenclaw to waft Nick after them.
Once that was done, she turned to me and Harry. As she walked towards us, I suddenly realized I was squeezing Harry's hand so hard I couldn't feel my fingers. I loosened my grip, hoping I hadn't cut off his circulation.
"This way, Potter," said Professor McGonagall.
"Professor," gasped Harry. "I swear I didn't—"
"This is out of my hands, Potter," was his response. "Miss Skylar! Return to your common room immediately."
I stared helplessly at Harry, who was looking back at me with wide green eyes. "But—"
"Now."
My gaze turned to Professor McGonagall, who looked both worrisome and stern. Knowing that I was pushing my luck, I exclaimed, "Professor, I was with Harry all day! We were in the corridor of the fourth-floor—we just came out of the library and ran into Hagrid—"
The look upon my Head of House's face silenced me. Her eyes were blazing, but it was not out of anger: it was out of concern. And in that moment, I realized I had no other choice except to return to the common room and wait for Harry there.
Defeated, I looked back to Harry. "I'll wait for you," I told him quietly. I let go of his hand and started off, biting my lip, and then I scampered out of the hallway to do exactly that.
The moment I arrived in the common room, I took my normal spot on the couch in front of the fireplace. So many thoughts were swirling through my head—I could hardly imagine what Harry was going through, if there would be punishments for something he didn't do, if maybe I should have argued with Professor McGonagall even more to go with Harry to wherever he had been sent…
The anxiety grew so bad, I darted upstairs to grab my painting supplies. I hadn't had much time to work on any of my projects recently, but now seemed as good a time as any. While normally I liked to paint while in brighter moods, that was simply not the case here: the paints ended up being dark colors, of emerald and black and dark-blue. Representation of the uncertainty swirling around in my gut.
An hour later, Harry stumbled back into the common room. I immediately rushed over to him, hissing, "Harry, what happened? Are you all right? You're not in trouble, are you?"
He smiled tiredly. "No, I'm not in trouble…"
"Where did you go?" I persisted. "Does Professor McGonagall believe you?"
"I'm not sure about Professor McGonagall… but Professor Dumbledore believes me."
"Professor Dumbledore?"
He nodded and proceeded to tell me all about what happened: he had been taken to Dumbledore's office, where he met Fawkes the phoenix before Hagrid stormed into the office and claimed that he would vouch for Harry in front of the Ministry of Magic… but Harry, when asked if he had anything to tell Professor Dumbledore, said there was nothing.
"Are you sure that was the right thing to say?" I asked quietly. I had not forgotten about the voice that Harry had heard on Halloween night.
There was a silence except for the crackling logs in the fireplace of the common room. The light flickered eerily in his green eyes, highlighting the confusion and pain in them.
Finally, he nodded. "I'm not sure how to explain any of it… and I don't want Hermione or Ron to get in trouble with the Polyjuice Potion."
His tone of voice was incredibly miserable… I bit my lip again, wishing there was some way I could just fix everything. All I could do was pull him close to me, the way I had after the dueling club.
After a moment, his forehead found rest upon my shoulder. Knowing that I should speak, I asked, "Are you going to be okay without me here for Christmas break? I could tell Robbie that I'll stay, if it helps…"
Harry chuckled and protested, "No, Belle. Go home to your brother. I'll have Ron and Hermione here. I'll be okay."
I sighed, aware of the guilt gnawing away at my insides. But Harry's encouraging smile did make me feel a little better.
"All right then," I replied, a hesitant smile crossing my lips. "But let me know if there's anything I can do for you, even if I'm away from the castle. Something tells me there's a lot more going on here than we can see."
