Note: Parseltongue will be underlined when spoken

Chapter 3: Trouble in the Trio

It was Friday and the end of the week and Harry, Ron and Hermione were just leaving greenhouse four where they had Herbology with Hufflepuff, heading on their way to lunch. Harry was quiet as they made there way to the castle, the crisp November air a welcome chill. Hermione and Ron kept glancing at him worriedly then glancing at each other. Harry didn't look to good. He had looked extremely tired that morning with dark circles under his eyes and a small downwards pull too his lips. His eyes weren't lit that morning looking dull and emotionless. Harry hadn't bothered putting up his mask, he was just feeling way too depressed that morning to care.

Ron and Hermione had noticed the depressed state of the boy and had asked him early what was wrong but he had brushed them off with a flippant excuse of being tired and not sleeping well the night before. Neither had believed him, even when he tossed them a small reassuring grin. When Hermione asked Ron if Harry had talked to him about what was wrong, Ron told her that he hadn't. That he was mourning over Sirius, obviously, and needed a little space.

Hermione wasn't so sure that was all of it, though. She had wanted to talk about Sirius to Harry last year before they left for the summer, letting him know she was there for him, but she didn't getting the chance to. Ron had said maybe it was best to give him a bit of space first and she agreed thinking it a good idea, figuring she would talk to him when he got back to school. She hadn't, though, being too caught up in her blossoming relationship with Ron. Then she saw that Harry had seemed to being coping on his own and not wallowing in guilt, like she thought he would be, and decided she would leave him be until she saw he might need her and Ron.

As they were approaching an entrance from the courtyard, Hermione looked to her black haired friend, eyes full of worry. "Harry, what's wrong? I don't think its all being tired. Have you been sleeping at all these last few nights?" She asked her worry reflecting in her voice that had taken a slightly mothering tone.

Harry growled silently to himself. He didn't want Hermione's constant mother-hen behavior. He could take of himself, thank you very much. He knew she was only being the friend that she is but he couldn't deal with it. He remembered at the end of last year after the Department of Mysteries fiasco when she would send him these looks, eyes full of concern and worry but with an exasperation that seem to say 'I told you so Harry, you should have listened to me' and he just couldn't take it. He took a deep, calm breath and turned to look at her.

"I'm fine Hermione; really, I'm just tired like I said. And no I haven't been sleeping well these past few nights but its nothing to worry about," He said managing a reassuring tone and a smile.

"But if there was something wrong you'd tell us wouldn't you Harry? If there was something bothering you or something to worry about?" She asked pointedly.

"Yes Hermione," Harry answered smiling bigger and more falsely, knowing very well he was lying and feeling nothing but a cold indifference about the whole thing.

"Harry, mate, is the reason you haven't been sleeping have anything to do with You Know Who's?" Ron asked in a hushed voice, eyes wide and slightly panicked.

"No Ron, nothing to with Voldemort," Harry answered, purposefully ignoring the flinch his friend made at the name. Hermione tossed Ron and exasperated look and began a rant about how he shouldn't fear a name and Harry was saved from the questions thinking cynically, that Hermione had finally graduated from stuttering out the Dark Lord's name.

They walked into the Great Hall and over to their seats at the Gryffindor table to start lunch. Harry sat at his place and ate his food somewhat mechanically, not really hungry. He had woken up sometime in the middle of last night from another of his constant nightmares. This one was a jumble of Sirius falling beyond the veil and Vernon beating him bloody. He hadn't gone back to sleep after that feeling the depression and cold emptiness hit him hard. He had gotten his butterfly knife out and sliced a few cuts into his arm but the depression and emptiness carried on too the next day, like he knew it would.

He had been too drained to care that he didn't have his mask in place and went about his day, giving any who asked a flippant excuse of not sleeping the night before. Lunch passed in a daze for him, he got caught up in a discussion of Quidditch with the other guys, looking for all the world like the tired teen he said he was.

When lunch was over the trio went their separate ways; Hermione to her ancient runes class, Ron to the library to work on a paper they had due in potions and Harry, after telling his red haired friend he would meet him and Hermione in Transfiguration, went out to the lake to sit.

He was feeling the heavy wait of depression press in on him as he sat on a rock by the lake. He remembered the dream last night and sighed. He had come to terms with the fact that Sirius's death wasn't completely his fault. Oh, he knew some of the blame was on him. If he hadn't rushed off to save his godfather, if he would have taken the time to THINK instead of being so rash and foolish Sirius would still be here. He had no illusions that he wasn't at least partially at fault.

Like with the Tri-wizard tournament back in his fourth year and the day Cedric Diggory died. He knew it wasn't his fault and he had come to terms with it. He wasn't the one to kill Cedric and while, yes, he had offered to grab the cup at the same time and felt guilty about that, it wasn't his fault that Cedric was killed.

He vowed to himself over the summer after Sirius, that he would try to think things through first. No more needlessly putting his self or others in danger. It was time, maybe, he had thought, to take the Sorting Hat's advice. He would do well in Slytherin, it had said? Well maybe thinking more Slytherin-like was his key. He had denied the accusation that he should be a Slytherin since first year. So using some of that Slytherin cunning may benefit him more than he thought.

He had thought, more than probably healthy, he admitted on what he learned when he first came to this world. All witches and wizards who were bad or would turn bad went to Slytherin, the house of evil and dark people. At first he believed this whole-heartedly; people were only telling him for his own good, he had innocently thought. But that changed in his third year some, though no one knew it. He had thought: Well, if all bad witches and wizards went to Slytherin house then why had Peter Pettigrew been in the noble house of Gryffindor. He betrayed his parents to the Dark Lord, after all.

But he didn't dwell too much on it at the time. Not until fourth year, after finding out Barty Crouch Jr. was posing as Mad-Eye Moody did he begin to think about it again. When he had the time he had asked Sirius if he knew anything about Crouch Jr. and Sirius had graciously told him what he knew about the man. Including that Crouch Jr. had been a Gryffindor when he went to school. Pettigrew and Crouch, both were Gryffindors who became Dark Wizards and Death Eaters and that had gotten Harry thinking.

He had taken it upon himself to research, yes actually research, history and find out if any other former student of Hogwarts went dark and what house they were in. it became a mild obsession at that point, to find this information out. To him, all that was said about all Dark Wizards coming from Slytherin was slowly being torn down in front of his eyes. He was finding the world wasn't so black and white, dark and light, good and evil and he was left feeling lost.

He had started the research only to have to postpone it because of the events of fifth year, only to pick it up again in the summer after fifth year to have something to occupy his thoughts and because he was generally interested in knowing. And after reading and finding out some things he became less lost and understood things more now that he had his own personal opinions and not those of others. That's when he began to think that maybe if he used a bit of that Slytherin side of him, not becoming a Death Eater by any means, but being more cunning and ambitious like many of the Slytherins he may actually be less rash and reckless and more level-headed.

He had been reluctant at first to embrace any Slytherin quality, no matter how much understanding old habits die hard and all that, but realized, after much thought, that he had been using cunning and ambition already since his first adventure in his first year. So he figured he would try to be a little more Slytherin-ish and save his friends from needless danger. Think and plan, instead of rushing in foolishly.

Coming out of his daze he noticed it was turning dark out and glanced at his watch. It was ten minutes until dinner, meaning he missed Transfiguration that afternoon. Swearing half-heartedly, he stood and made his way slowly back to the castle. Just as he was about to make his way to the Great Hall he decided he didn't feel like being confronted by his housemates just yet and went to the kitchens and got something to eat. After eating quickly and chatting with Dobby he left and made his way back to the Tower. The others would be at dinner for at least a half hour more and he figured he might as well enjoy the silence now. Hermione would come down on him the second she saw him.

Hermione and Ron were making there way back to the Tower with the rest of their house after dinner.

"I'm telling you Ron there's something wrong with Harry! He didn't seem fine today anyway and then he skipped class? There's something wrong and he's not telling us," Hermione complained.

"Hermione, has it ever occurred to you that you may be overreacting here? Maybe he fell asleep wherever he went after lunch and lost track of time. And if something was wrong wouldn't it show, I mean, like he would look worried or upset or something!" Ron said, exasperation tinting his voice.

They stopped briefly as they waited for the others in front of them to walk through the portrait hole before following through. Hermione looked around the common room and spotting Harry in a shadowed corner, tugged on Ron's sleeve and the pair made their way over to their friend sitting in chairs that surrounded the black haired boy.

"Where were you during Transfiguration Harry? Why did you skip class?" Hermione asked bluntly, giving him a piercing look. Harry knew this was coming but it still startled him some.

"I was out by the lake and I didn't skip I just lost track of time as I was thinking," Harry replied looking up from the potions essay he was working on. He closed the parchment in the book and looked to his friends.

"See Hermione, I told you that was probably what happened!" Ron exclaimed rolling his eyes to Harry. Hermione wasn't convinced and narrowed her eyes suspiciously, looking at his face carefully.

"Harry is something wrong? You know you can talk to us right and we'd be there for you," she said, her worry from earlier returning.

"I know Hermione and I'm fine, nothing to worry yourself over," Harry tossed her a small smile.

She wasn't bought this time and with a deep breath she asked, "Does this have anything to do with Sirius, because Harry if your depressed about that you can talk to us. Is that what those sleepless nights were about? Nightmares about Sirius? You can talk to us Harry!" She said with a gentle, cautious tone, like she was trying to calm a dangerous animal.

Harry looked at Hermione with an unreadable look and she was vividly reminded of last year when Harry had been mad at her and Ron for not writing to him.

"Maybe I don't want to talk about it!" Harry snapped glaring at the brown haired girl.

Hermione and Ron looked at Harry, on guard and alert. This was the way Harry had been last year, even before Sirius died and Harry was particularly scary when he was angry. Hermione gathered that Gryffindor courage while staying cautious of Harry's anger.

"Harry we're your best friends! You can talk to us, let us help you Harry," Hermione said ignoring the gentle hand shaking her arm and the attention they were starting to gain from the others in the common room.

Harry was shaking with barely suppressed anger, his face flushed and breathing heavy. He was upset with Hermione for bringing this up, for her mothering him again, for her asking him what was wrong and not staying among those who were blissfully ignorant of his inner struggle. And he snapped at her.

"Maybe I don't want to talk to you Hermione; maybe I don't want to discuss what happened with you! Why don't you go back to snogging Ron and stay out of my business," He yelled, chest heaving, eyes blazing.

"Hey don't talk to her like that Harry, she's just trying to help! There's no need to be jealous," Ron shouted back, face red and looking furious.

"Harry I'm just worried about you," Hermione sobbed, tears gathering in her eyes and trickling slowly down her cheeks. Harry felt that cold indifference again and snarled at the pair.

"Than stop trying to help because I don't want it and worry about something else! Do I complain every time one of you is upset? No! So, don't bug me just because I'm not in a good mood!" He yelled and with that stood up and went up to the dorm.

Ron and Hermione sat in silence looking at each shocked as they heard the frantic rummage from the boys' dorms. The whole common room was silent looking from the pair to the stairs and back, dumbstruck. Then Harry came stomping back down the stairs, his face with an icy look on it and left out the portrait hole without another word leaving a tower full of shocked and confused Gryffindors.

Furious, Harry had gathered a few things from his dorm before taking off and going to the place he could honestly be alone. He walked down to the first floor of the castle just above the dungeons and walked up to a slab of ordinary looking wall. Making sure no one was around he hissed something in parseltongue. The wall seemed to shimmer and become slightly transparent and he walked through, the wall becoming solid behind him and torches lighting along the walls. The small hall was about fifteen feet long and four feet wide and he walked the distance until he came to an ebony wood door with a snake head baring its fangs made of silver for the door knob and opened it.

He walked in closing the door behind him and sighed, his breath coming out in a gust. The room he was in was the sitting/common room. The floor was covered by a deep emerald green carpet edged in gold. Directly across the room from the door was a huge fireplace that had two snakes on each end of the ledge in poses like they were ready to strike. One snake was made of obsidian with emerald eyes and the other was made of ivory with sapphire eyes. Above the fireplace a large moving picture of a black and red runespoor hung, its bluish black eyes shining.

A plush green three person couch with gold lining sat in front of the fireplace with two black leather armchairs to each side and a coffee table of dark mahogany wood was placed in the center of it all. There was a smaller table to the right of the couch also in dark mahogany. A chandelier with candles made of silver hung from the ceiling, lighting the room sufficiently. The candles were everlasting, never melting or burning out.

He bypassed this after lighting the fire and walked to the door to the right. He had seen everything before having found this room one night after a night nightmare in early October. This room was a library/study room with two walls being filled floor to ceiling with books. From the ceiling hung the same chandelier like in the sitting room, also made of silver. The floor was covered in a black carpet with emerald and gold specks scattered across it. A large desk of a light colored wood resided in the room that had vines carved into it. A high backed, soft, black leather chair went with the desk in the room. Harry walked over and sat at the desk, spreading his work across the surface. There was a door behind the desk that led to a medium sized room that housed a potions lab with potions ingredients of all kinds; rare, common, dark and illegal. The room had brackets with torches in all four corners of the room. The wall to the right was stacked with potions ingredients and a large cabinet to the left held even more ingredients. A work table in the middle of the room sat, ready for a potion to be made.

Looking to the two walls of books Harry ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Show me any books that talk about the Pulpa Plaga and Mortiferus Pulpa Plaga potion," he said clearly, voice weary. Immediately, five books came to him and landed neatly stacked on the corner of the desk. He sighed again and tried to get some work done. After half an hour of reading the same line over and over he gave up, packed his things up and walked back into the sitting room dropping in the couch in front of the fireplace and tossing his bag in the chair.

"What is wrong Harry?" A voice hissed from above him. Looking up Harry looked into the bluish black eyes of the runespoor painting.

"Nothing really just a bad day is all" He replied with a heavy sigh.

"You're lying," the right head of the snake, Erinyes, retorted nonchalantly. "What is really wrong, young snake talker?"

Harry sighed again and glared half heartedly at the right head of the snake. The critic, who always seemed to know when he was not being truthful. Sometimes it really irked him.

"I've been having a bad day, like I said. I didn't get much sleep and then Ron and Hermione decided that I need to talk about what was bothering me and that turned into a huge argument because Hermione won't mind her own damn business and Ron goes along to please her because that's his girlfriend. And then he gets pissed at me when I yell at her to stay out of MY fucking business and says I'm jealous, which I'm not!" Harry blurted out heatedly, having just babble on telling the snakes everything. It didn't even bother him anymore that he confided in a portrait of a runespoor, having done so a couple other times.

"Are you sure your not feeling the least bit left out?" the left head of the snake, Atropos, asked skeptically.

"No I'm not feeling left out, I like being alone and with them being a couple its easier for me to be alone since their usually wrapped around each other," Harry answered and then grimace. "That was a bad mental image."

"Well what had you so tired and irritable to begin with?" Morpheus, the middle snake head asked curiously.

Harry sighed again. 'I must truly be loosing it to be confiding in a portrait of a snake so much.' He thought, shaking his head lightly. "I was tired because of nightmares and those combined with my lack of sleep made my mood a little…annoyed," he said.

"Well sleep, young snake talker, and may your rest be peaceful," Morpheus hissed lightly and Harry nodded, said goodnight and headed to the door on the left.

The bedroom was large with a black carpet covering the floor. A king sized four poster bed of dark mahogany wood occupied the room. The drapes of the bed were a dark blue almost black edged in gold with black sheets, a dark emerald blanket edged in gold and black and green pillows. The posts of the bed were carved like snakes; jaws clamped around the foot of the bed. The front of the foot on the bed had vines carved in it. A dark mahogany nightstand sat to the right of the bed with three drawers with gold handles. To the right of the room two ebony wood doors with gold knobs opens into a large closet. Five feet from the closet on the left is a medium sized fireplace. A dark wood dresser sits to the right of the door to the room. To the left of the room a black wood door leads to a bathroom.

The bathroom was huge with a bathtub the size of a medium sized pool was placed in the floor to the right of the room with several taps of things for a bath. To the back a sectioned off part was a shower that had three showerheads in it and was enclosed by a frosted glass wall with a glass door. The sink was made of white marble that had silver fixtures and a mirror above the sink. A silver chandelier of candles hung in the middle of the bathroom. The walls of the room were cream with gold accents, the floor was tiled in black iridescent tiles and the tiles surrounding the tub were emerald green. A toilet sat in the space between the shower and the sink. A small door in the corner to the right of the tub held towels, wash cloths soap, etc.

After changing clothes Harry laid down in the large bed before drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

Reviews

Tari Faelivrin: The characterization was easy considering I am a recovered cutter myself. I was self mutilating for 3 or 4 years before I stopped. So I should know how the mind works. The characterization was a mix of my own experience, others experience and what I think our two favorite boys would be feeling. Glad you liked it and i hope you liked this chapter also.

Dangerous Lover: I know Harry's perspective might seem a little...weird to you but i wanted a Harry that was more cynical than how most people make him.

Catseyes348: I'm glad you liked my description of the occlumency lesson. i had worked on that idea for a couple of days before actually deciding to use it.

leftarrow: Thanks for the review! I hope you like the chapter. I couldnt fit in your idea but I had tried cause it was a good idea but I hope you like what i wrote.