He was going to tell Dumbledore, he was decided. That was taking the issue to the highest possible authority in his mind, and he had no doubt that Dumbledore's obvious love for his students would bring the issue to a swift and resolute end. Davis would get booted from Hogwarts - hopefully with an Azkaban sentence, if he had any say on it - and Daphne would be given the safety and protection she needed. Then he could rid his hands of the messy situation and focus on the more important aspects of his life.

The only problem was that, over the course of the entire next two weeks, he only caught sight of the Headmaster twice. He rarely appeared at meals anymore and Harry was starting to believe Hermione's theory that he was leaving the school for days at a time. This annoyed him for a number of reasons - the safety of Daphne being his main concern - but had Dumbledore also forgotten the so-called extremely vital lessons he was supposed to be giving him? He was the one that had said how important the lessons were and how they were leading to the truth of understanding the prophecy. To have all of that promised to him then seemingly forgotten, now he just felt slightly abandoned.

With Dumbledore out of the picture, for now, he next considered Professor McGonagall. She was the second-best in his opinion, though not having authority at the same level as the headmaster, she did sport the same strong will and care for her students he did. His only discrepancy with this idea was that, as the Head of Gryffindor and not Slytherin, she'd be forced to take the issue up with Snape, who Harry didn't trust. Maybe he'd be kinder dealing with students from his own house, but he wasn't about to risk it. He was already severely out of his comfort zone involving himself in all of this and didn't want to risk anything less than one-hundred percent certainty that it would be settled instantly.

Currently, Ron, Hermione, and him were spaced out in front of the fireplace - or more accurately, he and Hermione were, he and Ron also were, but it was fairly clear the pair of them were not aware of the other's existence. He'd neglected to tell them anything about what he'd discovered as he really didn't feel it was his place to. They were his best friends and yes, sharing his problems would definitely help the overwhelming pressure it held, but he also significantly felt it wasn't his secret to tell. He hated knowing what was occurring himself, never mind anyone else, and if he was going to share it with them, it certainly wasn't going to be while they were acting like this. He'd barely spoken to Daphne after her panic attack, just an odd nod of acknowledgment here and a few words of conversation there, but it was quite obvious to him she was avoiding him, probably out of embarrassment of it all. Which was fine by him, to be clear, the only reason he was dragging this all-out and involving himself was so he could properly rid his hands of it without the guilt eating away at him.

Finally, after much deliberation and trying to talk himself out of it, he decided there was no time like the present.

"Just nipping out for a bit."

Hermione looked up from her revision timetable.

"It's past curfew, Harry."

"Better give me detention then?"

Only Ron laughed. Which was good - so he did actually know she was here, then. When Hermione took no action against him, he continued getting ready, brushing himself down and returning his scrolls to his bookbag.

She sighed in pain.

"What are you doing? Is Dumbledore back?"

He chewed his lip. Annoyance wasn't justified as she didn't know his discrepancies regarding the topic, so he took a few moments to himself before answering.

"How would I know?"

No, it was useless, the scorn in his tone had been obvious. Deflating a little, he turned to her apologetically.

"Sorry... Just going to Slughorn's. Prophecy business."

She looked between him and the door sadly.

"Okay, well… stay safe."

Ron didn't say anything but nodded a farewell in his general direction. Neither of the two looked thrilled about being left alone together. He took a second to focus on the sad image before him.

What was happening to their friendship? Was this just the way it was going to be from now on? Were they all just sticking together from guilt and force of habit, not out of enjoyment and bond anymore?

Shuffling his bookbag over his shoulder, he shook his head free of the intrusive thought. One problem at a time.

"...Yeah."

He wasn't regretful keeping them in the dark about Daphne's situation. He told himself it was for her benefit, but if he were being totally honest, he didn't want the added hassle of them being involved. Being around the pair of them made him so miserable these days, having something else to be concerned about was practically a holiday. Which, really… was an awful thought to have, but it was where he was at.

The chilly night air swept against him as he exited the common room. He took on a brisk speed as he half-walked, half-jogged down the corridors to Professor McGonagall's office. Hermione was right that it wasn't curfew just yet, but it was precariously close and if there were other, less-forgiving prefects about then they'd no doubt have some questions for him. But it seemed like luck was on his side, as he either managed to be out just before they had all arrived, or he was consistently just missing them.

He had wondered whether the Professor would even be awake at this time, not knowing but guessing how stressful the elderly professor's life must be. Very optimistically, he arrived outside of her office. He knocked and to his surprise, was indeed told to enter. McGonagall by the fireplace, which was casting warm flickers of light over the ceiling. She looked expectantly tired, but her stare could still rival that of a Basilisk.

"Mister Potter, whatever's the matter?"

There was alarm in her voice - he couldn't blame her, considering his history turning up here late in the night.

"Nothing! Everything's fine... Could I have a word, though?"

She gestured silently for him to take a seat opposite her.

"Whatever's this about, Potter, it had better be urgent enough that it cannot wait. I'm seeing Gryffindor fifth years tomorrow morning, I'm sure you're aware? If it is academic-related -"

Taking his seat, he shook his hands defensively.

"It's nothing to do with our lessons, Professor," he said quickly. "It's… actually about one of the students."

"Potter..." she said, after a short pause, "... if this is more accusations about Draco Malfoy, then I'm afraid to say that we have taken all the appropriate measures to -"

"It's not that either, Professor! Please, if I can just…"

The strain in his voice apparently struck a chord with her. No longer looking to shoo him away, she fell silent, a new air of curiosity overtaking her. As the stage was suddenly his, he again felt extremely out of his depth.

"If... as a student... we're worried about the safety of one of our classmates… who should we bring that up to?"

She tutted like he was a child who'd just said a naughty word.

"Why, your Head of House, of course! Any potential danger in Hogwarts grounds must be reported to a member of staff!"

"Does that include… if it's more of a…" he struggled awkwardly, knowing the correct term, but not wishing to say it,"... a... domestic, danger?"

She did not answer immediately, but that was not to say she didn't react. She became straighter in her seat and seemed to visually age another ten years. Looking down her nose at him, her eyes almost seemed to mist over. She looked in pain.

"... What do you have to tell me, Potter?"

Her voice was gravely clear. Like a relative receiving bad news - she sounded both unwanting to hear anymore and wanting things in excruciating detail.

This was it, exactly what he was here for. He was unnerved, out of his depth and forcing his nose where it definitely didn't belong, but soldered through it.

"I... er... have reason to believe that someone in our year is in a domestic abuse relationship with someone… someone also in our year, I mean."

She made a sour, almost accusing face.

"You have reason to believe…?"

"I've seen their injuries," he quickly answered. "And they admitted it to me, as well. Or as good as."

She tapped her chin solemnly, nodding with a raised eyebrow as she absorbed this information

"Well… you've done well bringing this to my attention, Mister Potter. I dare say, with your nature I wouldn't have been surprised if you attempted resolving the issue yourself. I am appreciative that you did not as I'm sure you can imagine, this kind of situation requires delicacy and discrepancy..."

He smiled at the thought because honestly, he wasn't far off just cursing Davis into oblivion the next time he saw her and having been done with it. But he was mature than that and knew that kind of solution wouldn't properly resolve the issue. It deserved to be thoroughly addressed… all that, and he also didn't fancy detention on top of all the homework.

Looking back at McGonagall, she seemed to have been falling increasingly distant throughout this conversation. He could only imagine this was leaving her a lot to think about. He wondered how often talks like this with students had to happen? For a place as seemingly detached from the real world as Hogwarts, the idea that stuff like domestic abuse could still happen was unrealistic, nigh on impossible. But suppose it was really just a school after all, and though its occupants were indeed magical, they were still teenagers at heart. He didn't know it at the time, but this humanizing of Hogwarts would be something that permanently affected his view of not just the school, but the magical world in general. Talk about removing the magic from magic.

After some prolonged silence and not quite knowing how to move the conversation on naturally, he tried something to continue.

"... she's, er… she's in Slytherin, so I was worried that you wouldn't be able to do anything."

She returned to him suddenly, confirming his suspicions that she had mentally checked out for a moment.

"My boy, this level of problem goes far beyond the house ties! We have strict rules on bullying in Hogwarts anyway, never mind acts of this nature! To think, within Hogwarts' own walls…"

She trailed off, frowning slightly. It took a minute for her to recover her train of thought and he waited patiently for her to continue.

"... I will need you to make a report, of course. Let me see if I can find those forms..."

She brought out a stack of papers from a nearby cabinet.

"You simply have to state what you know, details of the parties involved, and so forth. Something which I can reiterate to others without having to have you present… In your own time."

Picking up the quill she provided for him, he set to work.

He eventually decided against the full story, but a series of carefully selected facts. Out of protecting his manhood, he did not include his personal encounters with Davis, but did mention that he had 'prior knowledge' of her delinquency. And so he went through the rest, describing his initial, rushed invitation for Daphne to join him at Slughorns party, her adverse reaction to it, Davis's words to him on the night and then the state Daphne was in the following morning, including her resulting panic attack.

He had to spread himself onto a second page to include it all, but when he was satisfied with everything he'd put down, he pushed the sheets back across the coffee table to her. She took the pages and gave them a read-over.

"Thank you, Mister Potter. You've done well bringing this to my... attention…"

But she seemed to barely glimpse at them before her eyes returned to him.

"You're... this... Daphne Greengrass…?"

He couldn't quite gauge what this reaction was, so nodded in agreement

"... and Tracey Davis, yeah."

"I am... afraid that I can't help you, Mister Potter."

Her tone had changed again, this time to something deeper, but he'd struggle to describe it beyond that. Her sadness at the conversation continued, but now she seemed more closed off, more guarded. A moment of nothing passed, where he was honestly unable to find an answer to the rather abrupt shutting down he had received.

"That is to say…" she started again,"... regretfully, the staff is already aware of the situation regarding herself and Davis. Steps are being taken to combat it and make no mistake, this testimony will definitely help, but I'm afraid... this is not news to us. Outside of asking you to give them their privacy, I'm sorry to say I cannot give you much else."

Again, no response came to him naturally. His conscience told him he should be angered by this, that it was unfair, but he'd been caught so off-guard by this lack-luster reaction that he was unable to do much more than be confused by it

"You know happening...? You know she's beating her and you're letting it happen...?"

She closed her eyes in frustration and he realized that this probably wasn't the best thing to say.

"My boy, do not accuse me of such a thing!"

He backed off. The unexpected rise in her tone activated something inside him and finally, genuine annoyance at her response began to flow through him.

"The situation is already being addressed," she said quieter, but just as sternly. "What goes on in Daphne Greengrass and Miss Davis's private life should not be of your concern. The only consolation I can give you is that the staff are taking action to prevent their… recurring habits. We simply do not have the power to remove the two outright, but can only cushion the situation. And in return, I must ask of you that you keep what you have learned to yourself, out of fear of causing more attention their way. This is to be considered a private matter and I must ask that you do not share any of your findings with any other students."

His mouth refused to move. A hatred more powerful than anything he had never known was finally was coursing through Harry's veins. In an instant, he could see Davis laughing at him through the darkness, as though she was somehow aware of everything transpiring and mocking his uselessness. It had no business being as realistic of a mental image as it were, genuinely sending a stab of humiliation through him.

Finally, he plucked the courage to force the building tirade the full way through his mouth.

"I'll tell you how to bloody solve it - expel Davis! Put her in Azkaban, get her the hell away from Daphne! Dumbledore wouldn't let this carry-on!"

McGonagall glared at him but for the first time, possibly in his entire life, he didn't back down to it.

"If it were up to me, Miss Davis would not be attending Hogwarts whatsoever!" she snapped back. "But it is not up to me, Potter, that decision falls with the Headmaster. And it is his will that the situation is closely monitored."

He stood up quite suddenly. He hadn't meant to, it just felt right at the time.

"If you don't do something, I will!"

Even though he was feet above her now, she had no hesitation about looking down her nose at him.

"I do not take kindly to threats, Mister Potter."

He cringed at her wording.

"It's not a threat... it's - it's - !"

He faltered, his anger dampening as he stuttered his words.

Why was reality itself turning against him at every possible opportunity? Even this, which should have been a straightforward act of goodwill - even this had happened to bite him in the arse. He couldn't fathom a single reason why he'd be receiving this kind of response from one of his most trusted teachers, other than the fact that reality itself was bending in on him and making every single decision he made wrong.

Sirius was dead, Ron and Hermione weren't friends anymore, Dumbledore had abandoned him, Hogwarts was a misery to be in and now even the most basic logic was no longer straightforward? How had this situation become so warped that he was the one in the wrong right now? How had anything about the way he'd handled this been wrong? Why was he the one being shouted at now? How was this his life?

"... it's... it isn't..."

He was losing it. He was absolutely losing it. He was at his wit's end with just about everything now. He wasn't even angry, which was arguably the worst part. What should have been a big bombshell had just struck him as casually as a "oh no, my tea isn't warm anymore". How messed up did his life have to be that he was this used to receiving bad news?

He staggered away from McGonagall's desk, bumping his knee on the sofa as he moved.

"... sorry for disturbing your night, Professor," he mumbled in disbelief.

"Potter, come back! I'm not finished!"

He couldn't return to her even if he tried. Mentally he was now completely checked out.

"Potter! Do not walk away from me when I am talking to you! There is more to the story - if you will just hold on instead of storming off like a child!"

She could give him detention for it, that was fine. But he just really didn't want to hear the rest of it. Anything and everything he had done recently had ended in either disaster or disappointment and honestly, those words from McGonagall had caused him to reach some kind of milestone.

As he left her office, he decided he would not be setting his alarm for the morning. He would oversleep and probably miss some of his lessons, but if you asked him if he cared, he wouldn't even have the strength to answer. He didn't know which way to turn anymore. No matter what decision he made, no matter how well-intentioned or well-educated it was, it always seemed to be the bad one. And if he dared turn to anyone for help, that was part of the bad too. Every time he tried for help, support, or anything to lessen the severity of his situation, it just got worse and worse and it was left with him to deal with it all. Far too much these days he had put his schoolwork, friends, and even enemies' lives before his own, and finally, he had snapped. It had been slowly whittling him down and finally, he let it win.

He didn't give a damn about Tracey. He didn't give a damn about Daphne, either. Knowing them had been more trouble than it was worth. He was putting in more than he was getting back by trying to help their situation, and he didn't owe them that. He didn't owe any of them that.

He was going to take a day off. He would take a day off from lesson work and his friend's drama, forget about the prophecy and any toxic Slytherins. He was going to have a day off to get drunk and relax and he'd worry about the consequences later. He just needed to get away right now. Get far away from this stressful, messed up life that his had somehow become.

He choked back a stress-fuelled sob.

He really, really missed Sirius.