Harry lay in the Hospital bed and stared up at the ceiling, his eyes tracing the intricate carvings in the high, vaulted stonework, counting each curl and flourish. Huffing impatiently, he pushed himself deeper into the plush pillows behind his head – he wasn't pouting, and he'd hex anyone that claimed otherwise.
Honestly – he didn't know what all the bloody fuss was about! The Gryffindor and Slytherin game had been going just fine, despite the Bludger that had been on his tail the entire time – someone had obviously tampered with it, and he suspected one of the hundreds of students in the castle had had a hand in that.
He had caught the Snitch easily enough – well, as easy as it ever was. It had led him and Draco – the new Slytherin Seeker, Higgs had been replaced after Lord Malfoy had donated a team's worth of the latest Nimbus Two-Thousand-and-One's. Being the newer model, Draco's broom had given him the edge in raw speed, but Harry had the benefit of being the superior and more experienced flyer – that wasn't to say that he hadn't made mistakes of his own.
He'd reviewed the game several times since being remanded into Madame Pomfrey's care – reliving every bank, dive, and intercept he'd made throughout the course of the match. He had helped the Chasers as much as he could, and even allowed Malfoy to bait him into chasing the Snitch through the wooden support beam-structure beneath the stands, chasing the winged ball the entire circumference of the pitch.
The rogue Bludger had annihilated the wooden beams in its relentless pursuit of the two of them and had all but ignored everything that Fred and George had done to dissuade it from tailing him. The heavy iron ball had left each and every beam and support that the two Seekers had dodged around in splinters as if they were nothing.
At some point, Draco had been thrown from his broom, and Harry had managed to clasp the little golden ball in his hand. Harry hadn't realised how much the match had taken out of him until he'd been holding the Snitch over his head in victory – the fluttering wings curling around and laying themselves back into the ball's surface as the enchantment called them to rest. His joy at having caught the damn thing for his team had made him forget about the Bludger.
He had been reminded – quite intimately – what it felt like to take one to the ribs.
He'd been launched, head over heels, from his broom – thankfully, he'd had the presence of mind to right himself in the air and force magic into his legs – if he hadn't, it was likely he would be covered in a sheet rather than nursing shattered ribs. Even with his magic bolstering his legs and feet, he'd still ended up sprawled in the grass, the wind knocked entirely out of his lungs. The Bludger had followed him down, hitting him once more and ensuring that both sides of his ribcage were quite broken. Thankfully, Sirius had rushed to the pitch with the other professors, his wand drawn and tracking the damn thing – it had exploded in a beautiful fireball as his godfather's curse struck it square. Harry had laid there, in the grass, gasping for breath, letting the bits of shrapnel bounce and land all around him.
The sight of how Sirius had paled as he spat out a mouthful of blood would remain with him for the rest of his life. Sirius had rushed to his side after that, only moving for Madame Pomfrey to make sure he would live and to move him to the bed he currently lay in.
Harry groaned as he shifted his weight – it was impossible to get comfortable with both sides of his torso on fire. Sadly, Sirius had long since had to leave – he had duties he had to perform, even on the weekend. Remus, who had been attending the match as well, had had to bodily separate Sirius from his bedside to get his godfather to leave – the memory of Sirius struggling futilely against Remus's larger frame with flailing limbs was enough to bring a small, private grin to his chapped lips.
They had, at least, enjoyed a few hours of quality time together before he'd had to leave. They had talked about everything – from his domination of the duelling club, to the very recent loss of Justin.
The school was still reeling from that event.
The days following the discovery of the Hufflepuff's body had been subdued, and a heavy weight had settled over the castle. Everywhere anyone went, there was someone that had at least some memory of the boy, even if It was only passing. Harry hadn't known him well, but they'd passed one another in the Library in First Year often enough for him to say that Justin was, at least, friendly.
Despite how the last few days of Justin's life had been in regards to Harry, he had nothing ill to say of the deceased boy. From everything that he and his friends had heard from the grieving students, Justin had been determined to carve out a life for himself in the new world that he had been thrust into on his eleventh birthday. In the eighteen days since, Harry had often caught himself wondering about what might have been – what would Justin have gone on to do? Would he have become a famous Auror? An exemplary scholar? Maybe he'd have gone into politics to change the Ministry of Magic for the better?
Sadly, it didn't matter anymore. Justin was dead.
Word had spread that Harry had been the one to find the body – how anyone had found that out was mystery. It didn't matter that Harry hadn't been alone when the body was found, nor did it matter how the information had gotten out; the result was the same.
Harry had been found with a body.
The last time Harry had been found with a body nearby, it had been the Troll incident, and everybody knew how that had gone. Death was Harry's constant companion. First, it had been Clara Appleton, then it was the Troll, then Quirrell, and now Justin.
It wasn't hard to find the common denominator.
What had once been whispers and stares had turned into outright hostility – especially from Hufflepuff house, not that Harry blamed them. Hogwarts was supposed to be the safest place in Britain, and it had become anything and everything but that. A second year had died, and Harry had been found standing over the corpse – his guilt was evident enough to the student body.
Hermione and Neville had, stalwartly, stood by his side throughout all of it, and had been shunned by the school along with him for their efforts. At first, it had been small things here and there – books they needed for assignments were checked out or 'lost' before the three of them could get them, snide comments here and there. It escalated quickly – he'd caught at least one fourth year sabotaging Hermione's bag while they had been walking between classes a few days ago. There was no telling how many other times it had happened.
The professors couldn't do anything about it either – there were almost a thousand students and fewer than two dozen members of the staff. Thankfully, the threat of detentions and point deductions had been enough to deter the other students – for now, at least.
There was no way to prove it, but he was convinced that it had been a particularly vindictive student that had set the Bludger on him during the game.
He turned his head toward the door at the sound of it opening, only to groan and glare at the far wall when he saw who it was. It was bad enough he was trapped in the damn bed – the last thing he needed right now was her.
The click-clacking of the heels on her boots echoed in the silence of the room – Madame Pomfrey had long since left to see to something or another – and he found himself grimacing more and more the closer they got.
"I thought I'd find you here." She sniffed. "You Gryffindors can't go one match without landing yourself in a hospital bed."
He remained silent – his jaw clenching and unclenching with each breath. He had given her space and time, and that was all well and good for the first week – and even after Justin, he had stopped himself from rushing to her, begging her to forgive him and to make her see that it wasn't him. He had beaten Draco bloody, yes, but he hadn't attacked random students.
"You seem to have carved a nice corner for yourself this time – much better than your stints last year. What do you think Sirius bribed Madame Pomfrey with?"
"What do you want, Daphne?" He snapped, turning his gaze on her. To her credit, she neither flinched, nor glanced away – apparently some things did change.
"I came to see you – you're my friend, loathe as I am to admit it sometimes." She replied evenly, tucking a lock of her dark hair behind her ear. It was down for once and fell in soft ringlets over her shoulders and down her back – it looked nice.
"That's news to me."
"That I came to see you? Why wouldn't I-"
"That I'm your friend." Harry sniped, cutting her off as he looked at the far wall once again. From the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Daphne's shoulders deflate just the smallest amount – though, it could have just as easily been his wishful thinking.
"Harry-"
"You avoided me for a month, Daphne. I think you made your feelings abundantly clear on our friendship."
"And you've avoided me for the past fortnight, Harry!" She snapped back, her voice loud enough to make him blink. He turned to her, and for the first time since she had arrived – quite uninvited – he actually looked at her.
She was paler than normal, and while her hair did look nice, there was a wildness and frazzled look to it that just wasn't the Daphne that he knew. There were dark circles around her eyes, and her normally bright blue eyes seemed dull – even her body posture was different. Normally, Daphne was the epitome of the refined Pureblood Heiress – excellent posture, chin lifted slightly, and her shoulders back as she looked at the world before her.
Now, her shoulders were slumped, and she was almost curled in on herself. It was like some sick mockery of the girl he knew.
"And you recoiled from me!" Harry bellowed in response – he hadn't meant to shout, but in that moment, he felt every pang of guilt that had stabbed at him each time he had caught a glimpse of her and Tracey. "Hermione came to me that same night – Neville didn't flinch away from me like I'm some kind of monster!"
"I'm not fucking Neville!" Daphne snapped, and for the first time in as long as he could remember, he saw tears leaking from her eyes. "How is it so hard for you to get into your thick skull, Harry? You're one of the smartest boys I know, but you're still stupid!"
"I'm stupid?" He scowled, pushing himself up in the bed only to gasp painfully and clutch at his stomach. "Fuck," He groaned, coughing wetly.
His stomach felt like it was on fire, and he ground his teeth against the pain of it, waiting for the euphoric moment when the wheezing breaths would cease, and he could let his body relax once again. He opened his eyes slowly and growled at Daphne as she moved to help him. "Don't." He wheezed.
"Shut your mouth, Potter – you could have died today. You're lucky it slowed down before it hit you." She snapped, shoving the arm away that he'd used in an attempt to keep her at bay. She yanked the cover down, and before he could do anything, quickly lifted the loose, thin shirt that he'd been wearing.
He was wearing a long-sleeved, crimson nightshirt, and he'd long-since rolled the sleeves to his elbows for comfort. Sirius had brought it to him after Neville and Hermione had allowed him into Gryffindor Tower – Sirius had thought the colour would remind him of Clara, who was still banned from the Wing under Pomfrey's orders.
He grimaced at the sight of the tightly bound bandages, and the overall black and blue pallor of his stomach and chest. It had been much worse when he'd first been brought in, he knew, and for a brief moment he thanked whoever had discovered the numerous potions that he'd had to consume in the last few hours.
Harry tried to push Daphne away again, but each time he shifted his body, the pain would return – at the very least, he forced her hands away from poking and prodding at him. "How do you feel?" She asked, idly fiddling with her fingers.
"Like I'd rather be anywhere but here." He sniffed, pulling the cover up and over him once again.
"Can I get you anything?" She asked quietly, looking to the side as she sat in the chair at the side of his bed. As he looked at her, he saw the shine to her eyes and how her lips were slightly pursed.
"I'm fine – you can go now." Harry huffed, rolling his jaw side to side slowly. "I'm sure you've got lots to do."
Daphne snorted and leaned back in the chair as she crossed her legs. "As it turns out, I made sure my evening was entirely free."
"Lucky me." He huffed, shifting in the bed a little and grimacing against the sharp pain. Pomfrey had dictated he was to remain in the bed for the next few days – magic was fantastic, but it could only do so much. "What are you doing here, Daphne?" He asked eventually, leaning his head back against the pillow.
"I'm here for my friend – I think you'll find I've not been the best friend in recent weeks." She replied quietly; her voice was barely above a whisper and trembled a little. It barely even sounded like the Daphne he knew.
"That would be putting it lightly." He sighed, lifting his head to look at her. "Do you have any idea what it's been like?"
"No." She whispered, shaking her head mournfully. "I've only heard things – I don't think anyone wanted to try anything with Tracey and me around."
Harry wanted to laugh, despite it all. "Come on, Daphne – I thought you were the smart one of the three of us."
"What are you on about?"
"There's been plenty that's happened with you right there." Harry scoffed. "You just didn't want to see it. What do you think it said to the school, that half of my friends turned their backs on me – you're the one that's always gone on about image."
"We didn't-"
"Yes you did!" Harry snapped; his voice louder than he'd meant it to be. "You abandoned me – you abandoned Neville!"
"No, I just needed time to think!" Daphne cried, leaning forward. "You have to believe me, Harry – I'd never-"
"Well, you did." He sniffed, turning from her. The entire conversation had left him restless, and his limbs thrummed with energy – he needed to get up, move around, pace, something. "I needed you, and you left me." He added, quietly.
There was a pause, and Harry ran his fingers absently back and forth over the metal frame of the bed – the cool metal felt pleasant against the pads of his fingers, while the action itself calmed his racing thoughts.
Daphne sniffed, and Harry glanced at her for a moment – she was visibly more upset now, and a part of him loathed the sight of it. He'd always been close to Daphne – the three of them had grown up together, after all, and despite being the youngest, he'd always felt rather protective over her. He wanted to tell her that he forgave her, but he couldn't.
"Neville almost got cornered the other day, you know." Harry muttered, closing his eyes as he leaned back into his pillow. "A group of third years from Gryffindor – McLaggen was one of them, I think – you know, the one that made a comment to you in the corridor in September?"
"I know him."
"Well, they cornered Neville. They would have, at least, if McGonagall hadn't turned up." Harry shrugged, opening his eyes slowly as he blew out a breath of air. "You wouldn't believe the number of books that I've had to buy, not only to work on my own assignments, but Hermione's too. Merlin only knows how much she's spent on repairing and replacing her bookbag."
"That's terrible."
"Aye, it is." He nodded. There was a pause as the wind outside the window rattled the glass quietly. "You know why I did what I did to Draco."
"Of course – what he called your parents was unforgivable." Daphne replied evenly, and when Harry glanced at her, she smiled sadly. "I don't blame you for being angry. You have more right to be than most."
"I don't know if I would have stopped."
"You would have – you're a good person." Daphne smiled slightly before she pursed her lips. "Though, you can be as thick-headed as Neville at times."
Harry snorted, despite himself, and there was a moment of quiet between the two. "Why did you leave?" He asked, looking to Daphne.
Daphne leaned back in the chair and played with the skirt of her dress – it was a Saturday, so the uniforms weren't necessary. "Growing up, with you and Neville, will always be the best time of my life." She began quietly. "How many times did we sit under the trees at Blackwall, talking about what we wanted to do?"
"Neville was up them, mostly."
"Aye, he was." She grinned fondly. "We met when we were six – I'd never met any other children properly at that point, and here the two of you were. Neville was this larger than life boy, who was loud and brash, and then there was you."
Harry squirmed at the look she gave him.
"I'd read about you, of course – I think everyone around our age has at some point. I can remember my parents telling me I was meeting the Harry Potter. I was so excited – you were this heroic boy that had done so much as just a baby."
Daphne sighed and smiled sadly. "Imagine my reaction when I actually met you."
Harry grimaced, recalling the beating she'd given him. "I can remember it pretty well – I'm sure I had the bruises for a week."
She snorted and put a hand to her mouth in an attempt to cover it. "I was wrong about you, you know." She said after a moment. "You weren't this great, larger than life hero – you were just Harry. You included me in what you did, when you could have run off with Neville. You were my first friend."
Harry watched as Daphne's eyes lost focus as she smiled slightly and folded her hands in her lap. "You accepted me for who I am, and you've never asked me to change. For that, you'll always have my thanks." She sighed as her eyes focused on him again. "I've always known you have a temper – not quite to the degree you displayed to the school, but I knew it was there. It got worse after your trip when we were nine."
"I-" Harry began, only to be cut off by her raising her hand.
"Let me finish." She said over him, and Harry snapped his mouth shut and nodded his head. "Like I said, it only got worse after you came back with Clara – you're not a hard person to figure out, Harry. Whatever happened, happened, and you've never quite been the same since." She paused and shrugged her shoulders sadly. "You grew up."
"You weren't the same boy that left, and sometimes it's hard to compare you to who you were – but deep down, you're still that same little boy who let me play with him." Daphne sighed and frowned. "And yet, when you needed me the most, I didn't know what to think."
"I needed time – I needed to wrap my head around the fact that the boy who had been my first friend was able to beat someone bloody with his fists. We're twelve, Harry – it's not something I could just accept."
Harry went to open his mouth again, only to be cut off by Daphne again.
"But I do, and I always will. You're Harry – my Harry." Daphne smiled sadly, a pair of tears slowly trickling down her cheeks. She sniffed and wiped them away before clearing her throat. "It only took me a day or so, but after everything, I thought you might hate me – I suppose it was just easier to keep saying 'I'll speak to him tomorrow'."
"After Justin died, I tried to speak to you – to apologise – but you were always rushing off and avoiding everyone. After seeing you thrown from your broom though…" Daphne trailed off, chewing on her bottom lip. "After seeing you hit by the Bludger, I had to speak to you – even if you ended up hating me for it."
"I don't hate you." Harry said quickly, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands. "It's been… tough."
"I can only imagine." Daphne smiled sadly.
"I don't think anyone can, really." He shrugged sadly. "Neville knows some of it, but it's something I have to deal with, I suppose." He said, fiddling with the material of the cover, rolling it between his fingers absently.
"I'll be here until you think you can tell me." Daphne murmured, briefly pressing her lips tightly together as she reached out and took his hand. "You're not alone, Harry – you never have been."
"Thanks." He whispered weakly – his throat felt tight, and his jaw clenched painfully. "And I'm sorry – for everything."
"Me too, Harry – more than you can imagine." She said, softly, squeezing his hand between her own. The two were quiet for a time, and Harry felt himself relax into the bed properly for the first time since he had arrived.
The sun had long since began its descent beyond the horizon, the long shadows cast by the warm light stretching up the wall – the silhouettes of the distant pine trees looking like dark claws as they stretched up the sand-coloured stone of the walls.
Through the windows, he could hear the owls hooting from their perches across the grounds – a common sound that helped to relax him – as students let their companions out to the hunt for their food.
"How's Tracey?" He asked after a moment, glancing at Daphne through his half-closed eyes.
"She's outside, actually – we thought it best that I see you first." Daphne smiled slightly. "I can get her if you'd like?"
"Alright then." Harry sighed, forcing his eyes open – if his eyes were open, he wouldn't have to see the images that would haunt him.
Daphne nodded and quickly stood, her dress flowing around her as she moved like it was made of some sort of liquid – it sparkled in the low-light, and despite the dark colour of it, Harry thought he could detect the slightest hint of emerald within the black material.
Harry watched as Daphne hurried to the door and poked her head out, and he sighed. He couldn't fault Tracey for her reaction nearly as much as Daphne. Tracey hadn't known him for long in the grand scheme of things, and even he had to admit, she'd never seen even a hint of his temper before the Draco incident.
The two girls approached his bed – Daphne was murmuring something to the brunette, who was busy worrying her lip between her teeth as she fiddled with her fingers. Unlike Daphne, Tracey was dressed in a simple emerald t-shirt with white highlights – no doubt in an effort to show her House Pride in the Quidditch match earlier that day. She wore blue denim jeans and had a pair of white trainers on.
Her hair, unlike Daphne's, was tied back in a messy ponytail, with a few dark strands framing her face – her normally pale skin appeared lighter than normal, though if that was simply a trick of the light or not, he wasn't sure.
"Hey Harry." She said quietly with a small, timid smile. It was so strange – Tracey was the one in the group with a constant smile on her face – to see her so nervous was jarring. "How're you feeling?"
"Like I got hit with a Bludger." He answered dryly, raising a brow at her.
"Right – stupid question, sorry." She muttered before taking a deep breath. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry – for everything. I've been a really awful friend this past month, and you deserved better."
Harry was quiet for a time, content to simply hold his gaze on Tracey – out of the corner of his eye, he noted Daphne standing with an impassive look on her face, yet her eyes were darting between the two of them nervously.
He pursed his lips and ran his tongue over the front of his teeth. "You were scared and surprised – I can't imagine what I must have looked like to you." He said after a moment, nodding slowly. Tracey's shoulders sagged, and he heard her release the breath she'd been holding. "This doesn't excuse what you both did, but it's a start." He added, looking between the two with a small smile.
"Of course." Tracey said quickly.
"I'd expect nothing less." Daphne nodded.
"Pull up a bloody chair, I feel tiny with you both standing there." He muttered, waving his hand at the two of them. Daphne lowered herself gracefully into the chair she had previously been occupying, folding her legs neatly as she sat with all of the poise expected of her, while Tracey shuffled a nearby chair over and slumped into it heavily.
"So," Daphne began with a lopsided smile. "Eirene Taylor is still rather pleased with herself."
Tracey snorted. "She might as well be the princess of Slytherin after trouncing Neville."
"It was rather funny." Harry chuckled, coughing a little as his ribs protested.
"Did you see the way he bounced?" Tracey grinned, leaning forward in the chair as she glanced between Harry and Daphne, her hazel eyes sparkling.
"I'm rather fond of the wheeze he made when he landed." Daphne smirked. "It's always good to see Neville tossed on his arse."
"Don't let him hear you say that. His ego's been bruised all month – not even pummelling Dean and Seamus helped.
"Oh please – Seamus is more likely to blow himself up, and Dean is too focused on that Muggle sport of his. If Neville hadn't beaten the two of them, I'd have had to beat some sense into him."
"You think you could take Neville?" Tracey blinked. "He wiped the floor with both of them – and he hasn't been as cocky as he was with Eirene."
"Please, I've been knocking Neville into the dirt since we were six." Daphne sniffed, flicking an invisible speck of dust from her skirt.
"Eirene caught him off-guard." Harry shrugged. "She won't be able to get away with it again."
"You thinking about duelling her?" Tracey asked excitedly. "You've not lost yet – and we've all noticed you don't use the same spells you used against Draco."
"You've been holding out on us, Potter." Daphne grinned. "It was glorious to watch. He'd been bragging about taking you down a peg ever since Pomfrey released him."
Harry shrugged. "The duels aren't actual fights – that was."
"Think you could teach us how to jump that high?" Tracey asked, bouncing in her seat a little. "It was so cool!"
Harry snorted. "Maybe."
"How about that duel between Kullens and Granger? That was interesting." Daphne said, raising her eyebrows as she glanced between the two of them.
Harry nodded – it certainly had been interesting. He had expected Hermione to flounder against the daughter of House Kullens. After all, Hermione didn't have the benefit of practicing spells over the Summer like they did. And yet, Hermione had surprised them all – not only had she held her own against the Ravenclaw, but she had dominated the match.
"I've no idea where she learned half of those spells." He muttered, rubbing his chin absently. "Knowing her, that was probably only the tip of the iceberg."
"She sure surprised Lilith." Tracey grinned. "It's a good job she wasn't sore about losing."
"It surprised me." Daphne shrugged. "House Kullens has a reputation that's well-earned. They're not a family that would take well to a Muggle-Born beating one of their own."
"Lilith seems different from her father." Harry shrugged. Lord Kullens was an arsehole, and the two of them had been forced to socialise with him on multiple occasions over the years – Daphne was the heir to House Greengrass, and Harry was the future Lord Potter – having to rub elbows with men and women who held to the same beliefs as Lord Dondarrion made him gag. How Arcturus hadn't cursed each of the members of the Wizengamot for one reason or another over the years baffled him.
"What's he like?" Tracey asked, blinking owlishly.
Harry and Daphne shared a look, and Harry shrugged. "He's a right miserable shit – he'd see Purebloods given more rights while stripping the Half-Bloods and Muggle-Born of theirs. Rumour has it, he supported Voldemort in the last war, but nothing was ever proven."
"Oh." Tracey muttered.
"He's part of a very small, very loud minority in the Wizengamot." Daphne said, grasping Tracey's hand. "You've nothing to worry about."
"He does like to conveniently forget I'm a Half-Blood." Harry snorted. "He came to Arcturus for the Potter vote last month, apparently. Something about some legislation for tracking Muggle-Born."
"I assume Arcturus threw him from Blackwall."
"Oh, Arcturus never let him through the Wards – bounced right off them and landed in Saint Mungo's." Harry grinned. "Only reason he knew it was him was from the letter he sent the day before, inviting himself."
"Wizards are stupid." Daphne muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose.
Harry didn't give her the satisfaction of an answer, instead content to stare at the ceiling for a moment as he thought of what he knew about Lilith Kullens – it wasn't much.
"What do you know about Lilith?" He asked, glancing at Daphne and Tracey – if there were any two witches that could be relied on for a good read on anyone in the school, it was the two of them.
The usual gossips like Lavender and Parvati were spouting their words to anyone that would listen, the Daphne and Tracey duo kept silent and their ears to the ground – it was rather unnerving, in truth.
"She's a Ravenclaw, obviously." Daphne shrugged, glancing at her fingernails.
"Tried to start a club on Wizarding Society last year too – it didn't get enough signatures." Tracey shrugged. Distantly, Harry recalled a signature form pinned to the bulletin board in Gryffindor Tower last year about something along those lines – he hadn't signed up for it because he'd been raised in it.
"That was her?" He asked, frowning. "Odd thing for a Kullens, isn't it?"
"She keeps to herself, mostly, so there's no telling what she's like." Daphne shrugged. "She could be the next Dark Lord for all we know."
"That's not even remotely funny." Harry sighed, running his hands down his face. "I've been seeing her everywhere since the duel with Draco."
"We all have our classes together – what's odd about that?" Tracey frowned, confused.
"I never noticed her – at least not really – until after the duel. Everyone was backing away and talking amongst themselves, but she stayed where she was and just stared at me."
"I think Harry has himself an admirer." Daphne smirked, wiggling her eyebrows. Harry cringed and squirmed in the bed.
"Merlin, anything but that."
"What's wrong with having an admirer?" Tracey asked him, her voice light and teasing. "Someone might make a respectable wizard out of you yet."
"We're twelve." He replied flatly, fixing her with a deadpan look. "I get enough of this from Sirius." He groaned.
"And look how he turned out." Daphne snickered, holding her fingers to her mouth.
"I don't know – he is rather handsome." Tracey grinned, a far-away look in her eye.
"I do believe Tracey is smitten – poor girl." Daphne sighed, shaking her head.
"Am not!" Tracey cried, slapping Daphne in the shoulder lightly. "I just appreciate his teaching method."
"Oh, I'm sure you do."
"Can we not talk about Tracey fancying Sirius, please?" Harry whimpered, groaning as he slid his hands slowly down his face – perhaps Pomfrey could dose him with enough potions to make him forget the last few hours?
"Of course – he's a married man, and we don't associate with homewreckers." Daphne sniffed before winking playfully at him. "And here I thought she was the respectable sort."
Tracey groaned and buried her face in her hands – from where he lay, Harry could see the crimson flush that covered her from her hairline, all the way down to the base of her neck.
"Hey, what about Her-" Tracey began indignantly, only for the stern voice of Pomfrey to cut her off – Harry breathed a sigh of relief and thanked whichever deity from the Pantheon had been watching over him.
"Girls – back to your Dorms. You can visit Mister Potter tomorrow once he's had some rest – it's almost curfew." She ordered, levelling her stern gaze at the two Slytherins. Harry grinned as the two got to their feet quickly and offered him their goodnight's.
Once the two had left the room, Pomfrey hurried to his side and began to weave a complicated pattern with her wand over his body. He tried to follow the pattern and he even strained his hearing in a vain attempt to understand the spell, but it was for naught.
In only a few moments, a representation of his body was hovering above him, mirroring his movements – when he raised his arm, so did the form above him. He grinned as Pomfrey fixed him with an exasperated look.
"Your ribs are coming along nicely, Mister Potter – would you like me to give you some potion to help you sleep? It'll be a rough night otherwise."
Harry pursed his lips – on the one hand, Dreamless Sleep would give him the first full night's sleep in almost six months. On the other, it was highly addictive. "I'll pass for tonight – maybe tomorrow."
Pomfrey narrowed her eyes at him for a moment and pursed her lips. "Very well." She nodded, swiping her wand through the figure above him – Harry smiled at the feeling of the dissipating magic as it trickled down onto him before fading into nothing. It was warm, comforting, and tickled ever so slightly. "I'll be closing the doors to the wing shortly – I would suggest getting some sleep. Your body has a long way to go to heal yet. If you need me, you need only call my name – I'll be in my quarters just through there." Pomfrey said, pointing to a small door behind a row of beds. "Goodnight, Mister Potter." She added with a small smile before she turned and left.
The night passed slowly, and Harry lost track of how long he remained awake – all he knew, truly, was that the sun had long since set and the moon now hung in the clear sky, its cool white-blue light the only source of illumination within the dark room.
His torso still felt tight, and if he concentrated, he could almost feel the bones knitting themselves back together and repairing the surrounding tissue – though that was more likely to be his imagination.
He had moved very little in the time since Pomfrey had left him – content to simply stare at the far wall where a portrait of Tora, the Goddess of Life, and the Patron Goddess of Healers hung.
Harry had never been raised to be religious, though he knew that both Arcturus and Sirius believed and occasionally prayed to Temra and Enera in their darkest moments. Though, as he stared at the portrait that would occasionally smile and wave at him, he couldn't help but wonder how many believers were truly because they genuinely believed or were believers simply because the Goddesses were pretty.
Tora had an ethereal beauty in her painting – her milky-white skin was without blemish, and her long hair flowed beautifully in silver-white strands that framed her heart-shaped face. Atop her head was a Mithril crescent headpiece with a large diamond in its centre. Her eyes sparkled as she smiled at him, and were framed by long, dark eyelashes that fluttered with every blink.
Her robe was a thin, silvery piece of silk that covered her breasts, but still revealed the curve of them as the dress revealed a large V of skin that ended a good distance beneath her belly-button – at the very least, her modesty was preserved. Would that matter to a Goddess? Was it blasphemy to portray her so?
She waved her fingers at him teasingly as she continued to stare back at him, her free hand gently tracing the golden necklace around her neck. He pursed his lips absently – she was beautiful, but not in any way that he found attractive. Oh, he understood the reason she was depicted as she was – there was a reason she was the Patron of Sex, after all, but even now, looking at her – he felt nothing.
He was distantly reminded of his experience with the mirror, and the vision he had experienced under its thrall. As more time went by, the more distant the memory became – but he could still remember the blurred figure that his children had scrambled to. It irked him beyond reason that he hadn't been able to make out any features.
He closed his eyes and sank into his pillow – he had no intention of sleeping if he could avoid it. Perhaps, if he stayed awake for long enough, his body would force him into a dreamless slumber.
He reached out with his magic and smiled to himself. He could feel all the inhabitants of the castle as they slept – he found Hermione first, he always knew where she was. He could feel Neville, fast asleep in his room, and Daphne and Tracey not long after that, hidden away in the dungeons. He lingered around them, basking in the warmth their presences gave him.
He was snapped back to his body at the sensation of his bed shifting – his eyes snapped open, his vision entirely taken up by a pair of large, emerald eyes that blinked at him slowly. He gasped and shot back in the bed, flailing his arms wildly as he scrambled for his wand on his bedside table – Remus had been kind enough to ask Neville to grab it from his Quidditch Locker for him.
With panicked, fumbling fingers, he quickly levelled it at the creature before him – the light, tinkling laughter of the portrait opposite him a quiet accompaniment to the banging and clattering of the creature as it fell back and off the bed. Harry blinked.
"Dobby?" He frowned, confused. "What in Morgana's tits are you doing here?"
The Elf picked himself up slowly, rubbing at his forehead before giving himself a quick shake – his large, batlike ears flapping quietly. Dobby appeared much the same as the last time Harry had seen him – he was filthy, and looked like he hadn't bathed in months, and the grimy pillowcase he wore was barely holding itself together.
"Harry Potter came back to school." Dobby muttered miserably. "Dobby tried to warn Harry Potter. Dobby failed."
"You didn't fail – I mean, well, you did, but not for why you think you did… I think?" Harry tried, frowning as his head began to throb. House Elves were a fundamental part of his life growing up – while he might not have liked Kreacher, he loved Lispy, and knew just how terribly some Elves were treated. Dobby's filthy appearance and the fresh bandages on Dobby's hands gave him an inkling at just how terrible his family was.
Dobby sniffled, a large tear trailing along his nose. "Harry Potter is in danger – it not be safe at Hogwarties."
"I was in danger last year too – you can't expect me to not come to school because a stranger tells me it's not safe!" Harry replied in a hushed voice, his eyes darting between Dobby and Pomfrey's door.
Dobby scrambled onto the bed, and Harry shifted his legs to give the little creature some room. "Dobby knows all about Harry Potters brave battle against the mean Troll." Dobby nodded eagerly. "It be a story that Dobby hears often."
"You hear about me?" Harry blinked, stunned.
"Oh yes, Harry Potter – Dobby's family discuss you often." Dobby paused. "They not be saying nice things." He added, wringing his hands worriedly.
"I didn't expect anything else at this point, frankly." Harry sniffed, glaring at the sheet on his bed. He sighed tiredly. "What do you want?"
"Dobby wants Harry Potter to be safe – Harry Potter must go home."
"You can't be serious! Arcturus would have my hide if I turned up at Blackwall!"
"No, Harry Potter must go home – where it be safe!" Dobby repeated, tugging on his large ears worriedly. Harry blinked and opened his mouth, only to stop himself as his thoughts whirled in his head.
"You want me to go to Rosestone?"
Dobby nodded again. "It bes the safest place for Harry Potter – not even He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named dared go there." The Elf suddenly began to worry at the hem of his pillowcase. "Dobby thought his Bludger would be enough."
"Your Bludger?" Harry growled, narrowing his eyes dangerously at the House Elf.
"Dobby feels most aggrieved – Dobby had to iron his hands." The Elf replied, holding out his hands.
"You could have killed me, you bloody, stupid-" Harry snapped, stopping when he went to sit up, only to collapse on the bed as he was wracked with a series of wet coughs.
The feel of a cold flannel against his forehead helped to calm his breathing, and he looked to see Dobby looking at him pitifully. He was too tired to be angry – truly angry. He sighed deeply. "I could kill you for landing me in here."
"Dobby be used to death threats – Dobby gets them five times a day at home!"
"Well, then you're bound to a shit family." Harry muttered. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry they treat you so bad."
"It be okay, Harry Potter – Dobby understands his lot in life." Dobby sniffed, dabbing at his large eyes with his pillowcase.
"I'm still not going home." Harry said flatly, arching a brow at the Elf.
"But Harry Potter must – it bes doubly important now that the Chamber of Secrets be opened again!"
"You know about the Chamber?" Harry asked, his eyes focusing on the Elf with an intensity he didn't think he had left in him. "Do you know what's attacking the students?"
Dobby had lunged at a nearby potion bottle that he had long since emptied and began whacking himself on the head with it. "Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!"
Harry flicked his hand up and called the bottle to his hand as he fixed the House Elf with a look. "No more punishing yourself in front of me – you have answers to questions I have."
"Please, don't ask more of Dobby – Dobby already said too much!" The Elf wailed, dropping to his knees as he tugged on his large ears.
"But-"
The sound of Pomfrey's door opening startled him, and for a moment, he took his eyes from the Elf. He grimaced as the Matron looked at him disapprovingly.
"Mister Potter – would you care to explain as to why you're still awake?"
"I-" Harry began, glancing to where the Elf had been on his bed – Dobby was gone. "No, Madame Pomfrey – there's no excuse."
"Very well, now, I expect you to get some sleep – if that is understood?"
"Yes, Madame Pomfrey."
The door clicked shut behind her, and as Harry placed the bottle back on his bedside table, he frowned. He had more questions than ever now – the Chamber had been opened before, and the only person that seemed to know anything about it was an Elf that seemed intent on maiming him.
As he leaned back into the pillow, the dull throb of a headache formed behind his tired eyes and he pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Shit."
Two days had passed since the visit of Dobby, and Harry had barely slept an hour through it all. His torso continued to burn, and despite his tired and broken body, Harry couldn't help the whirlwind of thoughts that had plagued him since the House Elf had visited him.
The Chamber of Secrets was real, and it had been opened. Not only that, but it had been opened once before – had attacks like these also happened before? If so, what was similar about them?
The thoughts had zipped through his mind like the Cornish Pixies Lockhart had shown them at the beginning of the year, tugging on this and that, vying for attention. No matter how much he tried, however, he couldn't focus on one for nearly long enough to come to any reasonable conclusion.
Sirius and Remus had both visited him each day, spending what little free time they had at his bedside and asking how he was doing – Sirius had taken particular note of the painting of Tora opposite his bed, smiling wistfully at it, as if seeing some old friend he hadn't seen in years.
Perhaps it was his exhaustion, but as much as Harry had wanted to enjoy the company of his two guardians, he just couldn't. His mind was far too occupied by thoughts of the Chamber of Secrets and what might be attacking the students.
Even when his friends had come to visit him, he'd only half paid attention to what they were saying. Hermione had mentioned something about their classes, Neville said something about Clara and Hedwig, and Daphne and Tracey had chimed in with the latest goings on in the castle. He'd nodded when needed, but he knew that he'd been rather transparent.
The door opened, and Harry found himself leaning forward in his bed to see who had arrived – there had been a steady slew of students over the two days he'd been cooped up in his bed. It was that time of year when everyone caught something or another, and Harry was simply glad he'd avoided it – a cold was never a fun experience. Even Hermione had been sniffling a little, though he'd seen her take a potion from Madame Pomfrey on her way out.
He looked, through half-lidded eyes, as Tracey appeared in the Wing, carrying a small stack of books in her arms – no doubt an attempt to help him pass the time. He smiled a little at the thought of it – he had no idea how much longer he would have to remain under Pomfrey's care, and each time he'd asked, the Healer had fixed him with an odd look and refused to answer him. It was vexing.
"Hey, Harry!" Tracey smiled, placing the books on the bedside table next to his wand when she got to him. As it was a Tuesday, and only just past the evening meal, Tracey was still in her uniform – the pleated skirt she always wore absent of any wrinkle, and her green-trimmed cloak swallowing her lithe frame. "I brought you some books – I thought you might want something to pass the time." She said, sitting down in the chair by his bed.
"Thanks." He smiled weakly as he stifled a yawn. "Are the others coming?"
Tracey shook her head slowly. "Neville got detention with Snape for getting into a scuffle with a Ravenclaw before class. Daphne and Hermione are busy copying their notes for you." She said, offering a quick smile. "So, you're stuck with me, Potter."
"However will I manage?" He huffed, the corner of his lip quirking.
"Oh, I'm sure you'll find a way." Tracey hummed, threading her fingers through her hair absently. Unlike when she had come to apologise to him, this time her hair was down and cascaded over her right shoulder in dark waves.
"How were the others?"
"Oh, still fretting over you – of course. Honestly, anyone would think we care about you." Tracey muttered, making a face. Harry snorted and shifted in the bed in some vain attempt to make himself more comfortable.
"I knew it." He grinned. "Now all I need to do is get Daphne to admit it out loud and my life is complete."
"Oh, she'll never give you the satisfaction."
Harry snorted. "She'd make me work for it, no doubt."
Tracey leaned forward in her seat and crossed her legs. "Between the two of us – I think you're her favourite." She whispered with a conspiratorial wink.
Harry chuckled quietly. "That's because she knows she'd kill Neville within a week." He sighed happily. "What was the business with Neville?"
"Oh, nothing much, really." She muttered. "We were waiting outside the room for Snape to arrive when Goldstein said something about you – honestly, I couldn't even tell you what he said. Neville leapt on him though."
"That sounds like Neville."
"It took half a dozen of us to pull him off the poor boy – Goldstein had no idea what hit him."
"Makes sense why I saw him in here earlier with a busted nose then." Harry shrugged. "So how long is Neville going to be scrubbing the cauldrons for?"
"Just for tonight, I think – I don't think Snape cared that much with it not being one of us Neville got into it with."
"Sounds about right."
The two fell into a companionable silence after that, content to simply enjoy one another's company. While Harry was still bitter about the last month, he found himself simply enjoying the break in the monotony of being stuck in the bloody bed – he alternated each hour between strangling Dobby for his misplaced desire to see him safe, and thanking the deranged Elf for at least caring about him.
"You never told us why you dislike Snape so much…" Tracey said eventually, breaking the silence.
Harry squirmed in his bed a little. "It's not that interesting, really – Neville and Daphne know.
"Oh." Tracey said quietly, and Harry winced.
"It's nothing like that – they just grew up on the same stories I did." He sighed, running a hand down his face tiredly. "Snape and my father didn't get on – they were both as bad as one another, if you ask me."
"What happened?"
"My father would prank him – so would the rest of the Marauders, and Snape would curse them in the back, or try and get them in trouble." He shrugged. "I enjoy a good prank, but sometimes they took it too far."
"I can see that I suppose. Explains why he hates you, at least." She nodded slowly. "Could you imagine the fit he'd have had if you were in Slytherin?" Tracey smirked.
"Merlin, I'd rather not think about it – I could have ended up a Dorm-mate of Draco."
"That would've been a recipe for disaster. Not to mention, neither you nor Neville have a subtle bone in your bodies."
"What do you mean? I can be subtle!"
"Potter, you have all the subtlety of a brick." Tracey sighed, rolling her eyes. "Name one time you've ever been subtle."
"Uh-"
"Exactly."
"I'm thinking!"
"Don't think too hard – wouldn't want to burst a blood vessel."
"Okay – what about that duel I had last week with Zacharias Smith?"
"The cocky Hufflepuff that called you an up-jumped prick?" Tracey asked, her voice flat and her brow raised disbelievingly.
"He did? I didn't hear him." Harry blinked.
"That was because you were standing on the other side of the platform to the rest of us. Your duel had all the subtlety of Finnegan when he set Weasley on fire." Tracey snickered, holding a hand to her mouth in some vain attempt to stifle her laughter.
"The spell I used was subtle!"
"Harry, you threw him across the room – or at least, you would have if the shield hadn't caught him." Tracey laughed, all attempts at hiding her amusement forgotten as she clutched her stomach.
"Went better than your duel against Calvert." Harry huffed, folding his arms across his chest petulantly.
"It did – but that's what I get for trying to be clever." Tracey shrugged. "Evidently, trying to take a page out of Hermione's book will get me laid out on my back."
Harry fixed her with a look.
"You need to stop spending so much time around Sirius." Tracey sighed, slapping him gently on the shoulder.
"I was under the impression you quite liked Sirius."
"Oh, Merlin not this again." Tracey groaned, burying her face in her hands. "All I said was, objectively, he's rather handsome! Harry, he's old enough to be my Dad!"
Harry shrugged and grinned. "Doesn't stop some witches – when we're older, if Amelia ever gets smart, she'll know to keep you well away from him."
"Harry!" Tracey shrieked, slapping his shoulder once again and causing him to laugh loudly – at least he wasn't breaking into a coughing fit each time he laughed now. "You're terrible!"
He shrugged, not apologetic in the slightest. "Sirius is worse."
"You make me sound like I'll grow up into some kind of homewrecker." Tracey muttered, leaning back in her chair, and folding her arms across her chest with a pout.
"There's time for you to see the error of your ways yet." Harry snickered; his amusement only increased as Tracey stuck her tongue out at him. "What books did you bring me?"
"Oh, just the basics – I found something on a few different subjects that I thought you might like. Charms, Transfiguration, and something about Dragons." She answered, thumbing through a few volumes.
"I appreciate it." Harry smiled slightly.
"Neville tried to get me to bring a book on killer plants, but Hermione talked him out of it – might put you to sleep though, you look exhausted." She said, her eyes sweeping over his body.
"Oh, it's nothing – just a side effect of having your ribs shattered. It's tricky to get comfortable." He replied easily, shrugging his shoulders.
"I can get Madame Pomfrey if you'd-"
"No, it's fine – really. I really don't want any Dreamless Sleep." He said quickly, his eyes levelling with her own.
"Why not?" She frowned, confused. "It helps you sleep, right?"
"It's addictive – really addictive." Harry muttered. "After the whole mirror thing last year, I think I've got a healthy aversion to feeling like that ever again."
"If you're sure…" Tracey murmured, shifting in her seat a little as her eyes continued to scan him. "Promise me you'll try and get some rest tonight though? Hermione's going spare over making sure you can get straight back into the swing of things when you're feeling better – I think watching you get hurt really threw her for a loop."
"Threw me from my broom." He grunted, rolling his eyes.
"Oh, you know what I mean." Tracey sighed, swatting his shoulder lightly. "You had us all worried."
"I'm alright."
"But you nearly weren't, and that terrified us. Daphne's still trying to find out who tampered with the Bludger."
"There's no need." Harry shrugged. "I know who it was."
"Who? Tell me." Tracey demanded, shooting forward in her chair – her eyes were blazing as she gripped his wrist.
"It was a House Elf – that same one I told you visited me over Summer. He visited me the other night."
"Why would he do that?"
"He wants me to go to Rosestone – hide away until the danger has passed, I think. Something about the Chamber of Secrets being opened."
"It's true?" Tracey gasped, her eyes blinking owlishly.
"Aye, why wouldn't it be?"
"Harry – nobody knows where the Chamber is. It's the only private sanctum of the Founders that's never been found. It's supposed to be hidden in the Slytherin Common Room."
"Why does everyone think that?"
"It makes the most sense – there's plenty of clues, apparently, though like I said; nobody's found it yet. I should probably let the others know – Neville's been threatening to beat the student who messed with the Bludger senseless when he finds them."
"Good old Neville." Harry grinned as Tracey got to her feet.
"Get better quickly, Harry – we all miss you."
"I'll do my best." He replied, smiling a little as she squeezed his wrist before hurrying from his bedside. He sighed as he returned to counting the curls and flourishes in the ceiling. "Yep – I'm going to kill that elf." He muttered under his breath.
