Author's Note: I do not own Harry Potter

Harry was throwing his all into his training. It helped to take away the feeling of helplessness and despondency that ravaged his being.

"You have to do your training, Harry," Angelina had said behind shaking fingers. "Alicia was always the most excited about you," she let out a little snort, "Well, except for Oliver I suppose, you know, going pro. There'd be hell to pay if she found out you had stopped training 'cause of her."

She was right, of course, and he had taken her words to heart. One of his friends had been attacked by this Heir; anything that could be done was, so as to keep his mind off of it all.

He never really had to put everything into his matches. Sure, he had tried, and he had pushed himself beyond the average, but there had never been that moment where he was made to go 'all out' as it were. Brooms, according to one of the English Team's maintenance witches, had a power similar to wands, in that it acted better or worse depending upon the one riding it. Harry would occasionally push his magic and stamina into his flying but never had expended his full effort into it.

The manager was almost crying tears of joy when he saw how Harry was flying himself to exhaustion on each training day. "Potter, if you fly like that on match day, I swear we've got the World Cup in the bag."

Harry glanced at the visitor's box, a content looking Flitwick drinking out of a cup while he had a stack of parchment on either side of him. He was tired. He was draining every ounce of energy these last few days and he did not know what he could do.

His friends needed him just as much as he needed them. A part of him felt so selfish for participating in this when he could be supporting Angelina, Katie, and the others. But he would think on Angelina's words and carry on.

The sun was constantly shining bright, and the heat during the day belied the dark nature of the occurrences in the castle. 'It shouldn't seem so... normal,' he thought as he dodged another Beater combo from the English players: Warbles and Smythe.

When the session was over, sweat pouring down his body and clothes sticking to him uncomfortably, he followed along beside his quiet professor.

"Harry, I understand that things may seem... wrong, lately. But you need to calm down." He made a noise in the back of his throat as Harry tried to complain. "You will burn yourself out if you are not careful Harry. Did you know that Mr Longbottom came to me this morning? He's worried about you. Says that you won't talk to them, that you're constantly practising magic, studying, or here. I understand that things may not be the greatest. I can imagine exactly how you feel right now, but don't push away those who want to help you."

Harry was silent as he took in his professor's words. It had only been a short time since what had happened, but reflecting back, he could see Flitwick's point.

"I... suppose, sir." Flitwick gave him a sidelong glance. "It's just everything. The whole situation just seems so wrong. Why was Alicia attacked? Why..."

"Why was it not you?"

Harry nodded near imperceptibly.

They came to the fireplace they were to floo back to Hogwarts in. "Harry." He made sure that he had his full attention. "Do you know how you can emerge victorious when life beats you down?" A shake of the head. "You keep on living. You live the best life you can. You have your friends who, yes, are suffering right now. But how can you expect them to get past this if someone they care so much about is falling as well." Flitwick sighed. "I cannot tell you what to do, Harry, but I can advise. I have seen many students go through so much during my tenure at Hogwarts. There is so much that I wish could be done or undone, but I cannot do so. Harry, don't throw away something that is so precious because you don't believe you deserve the care of others."

Harry wondered how much he knew, or at least believed. He felt tired. More than just the exhaustion he was feeling.

"Thank you, sir." His body ached and his emotions could not decide what they wished to land on. When he got back, he had some people he needed to see.

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Cho Chang had never really spoken to Harry Potter before. Yes, she had seen him about the castle, usually in the company of that boy and girl who she believed was in his year. Or with the Gryffindor Quidditch team dragging him this way and that. 'Especially Bell.'

When the boy had first had his name spoken by McGonagall to be sorted, she, like near every other student, stared unabashedly at the boy-who-lived. There had been so many different stories told by parents to their children of the saviour of the Wizarding World, that it was difficult to differentiate between fact and fiction.

An unhealthy looking, tiny, terrified boy was not what she was expecting. When he was sorted into Gryffindor there had been many a grumble from her housemates at the location he was put. She, however, quickly put it out of her mind.

Over the course of the previous year, she would hear stories about his skills in magic, but would only listen to half the tale with limited attention. When she saw him fly against Slytherin was the time she began to take more note of him.

He seemed so quiet – shy – but polite. Friendly, but wary. She would see him tense up if someone got too close to him; it was as if his guard was up permanently. She just chalked it down to the fact that you-know-who had tried to murder him as a baby. That would be enough to make anyone jittery.

Then there was the story about the third floor corridor. Nobody could say exactly what occurred, but Harry was in the hospital wing with a nasty looking new scar, and several Slytherins were in deep trouble with the Headmaster, personally.

However, her attention was increased tenfold after he was appointed her supported team's brand new Seeker. When he began storming the team up the league table, she became Ravenclaw's biggest supporter of him. Her friend Marietta would laugh at her for having his poster on the wall by her bed, but she didn't care. Harry Potter was her new favourite person, and what supporter didn't have their most choice player's likeness moving about their wall?

She was walking down the staircase, heading back from the library, when she passed him heading the other way. The first thing she noticed was how sunken he looked. She knew that his friend was laid up in a hospital bed, but Harry appeared to be taking it quite hard.

"Harry." 'What am I doing?' He turned; there was a strange look about him as if he wasn't all there. "You're brilliant." 'What the hell am I saying?' "I mean. I've supporting Tutshill since I was really small. You're like, the best thing we've had for the team in years."

The boy in front of her... he was staring at her, but he just was not all there. "Um, thanks."

They stood there in awkward silence. "Er, I hope your friend gets better, Harry." 'Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.'

"Yeah. Me too."

"Well, I'm off to dinner, so... see you around?" 'Smooth, Cho, reeeeall smooth.'

"Yeah." He smiled. It was small, barely noticeable. But it was there. "See you around."

When Cho sat next to Marietta a few minutes later, she slammed her head into her hands.

"Cho," her friend seemed hesitant. "Everything good?"

Cho just groaned. 'I'm a bloody idiot.'

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The next day saw Harry sitting next to Alicia's bed, Katie by his side, as they decided to visit before breakfast.

'That girl...' Harry had had a strange incident the day before where a random Ravenclaw girl had stopped him as he sleepily climbed the staircase to get back his common room. At first, he thought she would sneer at him and accuse him of some imagined attack, but instead, he got an uncomfortable encounter involving his Quidditch career.

But it had triggered him midway. Not in a bad way. She may not have meant it in a way that he had taken it, that was incredibly doubtful, but he had a grand epiphany by the end of the strange talk.

The Ravenclaw had been polite and had expressed sympathy for his plight involving Alicia, but there was no accusation. There was nothing in her tone that made him out to be at fault for anything. Just a, 'hope she gets better.'

When he saw his friends once more, he never said an apology to them. He just acted as he had before the knowledge of the attack. It was subtle, but he could see them all relax slightly. It was as if they were permanently tense as they were forced to increase their worry to how he was acting as well.

He had met Katie once more for breakfast but had asked a question first. "Do you mind if we see Alicia before we go down?"

Katie had held his hand as they walked in, but it felt different than before. Idly he realised that he had taken her hand in his, as their positioning had his hand in the dominant grasp. Usually, it was Katie who instigated the action, but in this instance, he had taken the initiative. It was a new experience for him as he pulled Katie along.

"She doesn't look right."

She was right. Alicia did not seem natural. She looked just like an imitation of a person rather than a teenage girl who should be living her life instead of lying there in such a way.

The two of them sat in silence, acknowledging a stressed Pomfrey as she began her duties for the day.

Their hands were still entwined, and Harry surprised himself when he realised that he was drawing shapes on the back of Katie's hand with his thumb. 'When did she put her head there?' he thought as her head lay on his shoulder. For too long it had been her helping him. For too long he had been the weak one.

The words rang in his skull. 'You have friends who are suffering.'

They did so much for him and were always so strong. From now on, he refused to let that be the case. He would not be so selfish as to take them for granted. He felt so pathetic for how he behaved. He still needed them, but they needed him too. So he would be there. A give and take. They continued to sit in silence until as one, their stomachs grumbled.

Katie moved Alicia's fringe aside and leaned in to press a soft kiss upon her brow. Then, hand in hand, they left to begin their day.

What they saw when they entered the Great Hall enough to make them both retch. There was a pink sheen along each wall, and brightly coloured candles dotted the air above each table. Rose petals blew about the room leaving soft caresses upon the tables and the people who sat at them.

"The hell is this?" spoke a frazzled Katie. "It looks like a romance novel exploded everywhere."

Harry could only agree. They walked over to the end of the Gryffindor table, noticing that McGonagall's face seemed pinched. Snape's eye was twitching a mile a minute, and Flitwick was ramrod straight in his seat. Dumbledore was the only one there who appeared to be appeased by the events occurring.

"Happy Valentine's Day!" Lockhart shouted. "And may I thank the forty-six people who have so far sent me cards! Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all - and it doesn't end here!"

"I'm going to strangle him in his sleep." Harry spluttered out his morning coffee – heavily laden with sugar – as he worked his head over Angelina's words. The stuttering laugh couldn't escape his mouth as the drink fought against it.

The doors opened, and a smattering of barely concealed giggles came about as a swarm of winged dwarves marched in. "My friendly, card-carrying cupids!" beamed Lockhart. "They will be roving around the school today delivering your valentines!"

"Wait, what? Delivering Valentine's?" He didn't know who said that.

Students were blushing and looking around them. 'Why is life so odd?' Harry mused despondently.

Harry wanted to enjoy his Sunday. There was no homework that needed doing, and no Quidditch training. He had finally got back into a groove with the unharmed Circle, and a sense of normality was returning.

All of them agreed that they would avoid leaving the common room unless they had to; none of them really wanted to get involved with some harp-playing, surly looking dwarves who were being paid to sing Valentine's to other students.

"I wouldn't go out there if I were you, Harry," Dean Thomas had said to him when he came over to play some exploding snap. He seemed ruffled. "Got damn chased by one of those things. Horrendous it was. Had a whole load demand to know where you were. Be careful mate."

Katie, who was sitting on the sofa behind them reading a book, looked over with a slight look of disgust. "I think we'll be staying in here then."

Unfortunately, dinner was not room service included. They went as a group to first visit Alicia before visiting times closed, which after the attacks was happening earlier than usual. It was on the way to the Great Hall that a dwarf stopped them in their tracks.

Harry didn't get a chance to run as the angry looking thing leapt into the air and landed on his person. "Right, you little bugger, been lookin' for you all day. Now stay still:

His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,

His hair is as dark as a blackboard,

I wish he was mine,

He's really divine,

The hero who conquered the Dark Lord."

It was Fred and George who acted first. They knew that Harry hated being touched by those who he didn't know, and as they saw him seize up, his face showing nothing but terror, they were not happy whatsoever.

"Relashio"

"Depulso"

Katie was fuming. Her arms were encircling her friend, and the combined glares of Neville, Angelina, and Fay had nothing on her own. She turned to the growing crowd, many of whom had nothing bur mirth in the ensuing act before them. "Any more of this, and I swear that they'll regret it."

Many had been cowed by her tone, but Malfoy was leading the response of the Slytherins.

When they entered the Great Hall, Katie led an almost calmed down Harry to a table while Fred and Angelina walked up to the Staff table. What happened next lost Gryffindor 80 points and gave the two of them a week of detention, but seeing Lockhart so beaten down was definitely worth it.

While this was all occurring downstairs, one Ginevra Weasley was opening up the diary that she thought she was finished with.

She had overheard Fay complaining about the book the other night, saying that Harry – she squealed into her pillow at his name – had found the dirty book on the toilet floor. That toilet floor.

She had panicked while she listened. There was so much she had done that Tom could tell him! But she didn't know where he would have put it. It was thrown away because she was getting scared. Scared for what she was becoming.

She remembered when she stood over Mrs Norris, blankly staring at her handiwork. Tom had been so nice to her. Telling her that the cat was practice. That she needed to test the snake; if the large beast could even listen to her when she was not technically a Parselmouth.

He had been so proud of her. She would look at the words that had been poison pouring into her ears.

Then there was the Creevey boy. All he ever talked about was Harry. Harry. Harry. Harry. And then Harry let him take photos. But not with her. With others. She became angry when the boy, who was so annoying, was speaking to Harry. But he wouldn't talk to her. Why wouldn't he? Why would he speak to that boy?

She had followed Colin out that night. Tom was whispering in her ear – how – his words became speech, letters dancing from page to mind. Then she was back in her bed, scared. She was so scared. She couldn't remember anything. She wasn't being herself. She was something different now.

There were nights when she could not sleep. Where she wanted to write home, or tell her brothers exactly what was going on. But she couldn't. They would hate her. Harry would hate her. It was all for him. Her mother had told her so many stories, and she wanted him. Needed him.

Then there was that boy. He was saying such horrible things about her Prince. He was so full of himself. So hurtful, and he was going about saying that he was arrogant. Harry was not arrogant! He was sweet, and kind, and loving, and beautiful. She was feeling so hateful. So angry.

And that girl was there too. She was arguing with the boy, and Ginny smiled so terribly that she felt her cheeks ache with the pain.

She wanted to be able to talk to Harry like she did. She had seen the girl hug her Prince. She wanted to do that! Not her! It wasn't fair! None of it was fair! She was the little one. The youngest Weasley. So poor, so helpless. But not now. Tom was helping her, making her stronger. He was saying such sweet things, so loving and tender.

She was being so sick. The vomit escaping uncontrollably as the words appeared on the page. She could hear his voice as the words of slime reverberated in her ears. The floor was flooded and she could hear the ghost crying once more. She fled, tossing the diary in the air, not listening to wear it landed as she fled. She ran and ran and ran until she could run no more.

She thought that was it. But then she saw his face. The group of them were so sad and she felt sick once more. The guilt was strong, too strong, in her. It was consuming her. Then he had the diary and she became so ill.

She waited, the Valentine was sent out and she needed him to listen to how she felt about him. About Harry Potter – the boy-who-lived.

He didn't listen! He refused to leave!

She cried so much that the tears ran out. Why wouldn't he see her? Why would he not listen to her emotions? She felt so much about him that it hurt her heart. So she waited. Waited until he left.

She had to get the diary back. If Harry found out that it was her...

She sneaked into his dorm, and it was in the first place she checked. It had not left his book bag and for that she was thankful. Nothing had been said by him about her, so she knew she had made it in time.

She lay on her stomach, quill poised above the page. She had felt it the moment the diary was in her hand. The moment her fingertips grazed the pages everything felt alright again.

She began to write once more, and her eyes flashed once. Red.

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For the first time in a while, Harry was alone. Except for Hedwig who was sat on his dorm's window ledge, appreciating her human's gentle touches upon her plumage. She would trill softly as he spoke, appreciating the care he was gifting her.

Life was carrying on as best it could. A month had advanced since Alicia's petrification, and they were trying as hard as they could to move beyond the despair that had developed because of it.

Flitwick was right. Harry needed them, but they needed him too. Never had he believed that so many people would become so important to his very being. He refused to behave in such a way that would turn them away from him, so he dragged his body out of his selfishness, and out to the open. It was as if they were mourning someone still alive the way they acted.

So he made himself strong. Stronger than before. Malfoy's taunts became meaningless. He would have laughed at the look on his face when he just didn't care what he was saying. Snape's vileness seemed so petty. So insignificant in the greater scheme of things. His words washed over him, like water of a duck's back now. And Lockhart, while so inept, appeared as like a child to his senses. He was an idiot, and Harry did not have time to worry about his idiocy. Not when one of his own was hurt.

No longer would he be the weak little boy that had to be coddled. He stood up, above his weakness and made the actions he took worthwhile. They became meaningful to those around him and, like him, his Circle began to improve.

They saw his strength through adversity and were awed by it. Whether consciously or not, they saw the person they had been the most worried for grow and become someone who refused to let this phase him. This was his gravitas.

They were more subdued than they normally would be, with the glaring absence of one of their key people, but it did not stop them from trying to advocate normality. Oliver had been subdued when he held a small trial for potential Chaser's to replace Alicia for their last match.

There had been some angry rants at him for that, but he put his foot down when he stated that no one was replacing Alicia, and if she was cured before the match then she would return to her position. No matter what, Alicia was not going to be losing her place, even if her replacement was to be on a level with Harry.

He wasn't sure if Wood was truthful there, but for such a fanatic as the older boy was, that would be the most heartfelt thing he could have said. It definitely got a hard look from a girl in the boy's year that seemed to work out well for him.

So things moved on, as they would be wont to do. His regret was only that things could be so... normal, only after the events proceeding it. Instead of letting it dwell within his mind, he just carried on stroking his owl and let out a request that everything would work out in the end.

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He had never set foot in Dumbledore's office before that day. It definitely belonged to the eccentric Headmaster. Books were lining each shelf, and fantastic looking items dotted across the room.

"I feel, Harry, that I must owe you a deep apology."

"Sir?" Harry would not lie. He was very confused.

"It was my intent that you could experience a normal, or what accounts for normal I suppose, school life. From the first day, it seems that I was mistaken that this could happen."

Harry was unsure if he was being insulted, but kept his mouth shut.

"You see, Harry, I am not blind. When I left you with your Aunt and Uncle that night, I had hoped that you would be raised with the same love and care that Lily would have given you. Petunia is the last of your close blood, and as such, there are certain protections in place which would be unavailable elsewhere.

"Harry, my boy, I need to ask you this. Is there anything... anything at all you want to tell me? It matters not what it is, but is there something? Anything?"

Harry opened his mouth marginally. Then closed it once more, swallowing uncomfortably. 'I could. Maybe he could get me out. Maybe he could help.'

"There... there is something, sir." He refused to raise his head. He did not want to see Dumbledore as he spoke. "I- I don't want to go back. I don't want to go back there. I don't like the way that people like Malfoy can get away with everything they do. I don't like it when Snape..."

"Professor Snape, Harry." Harry stopped, an incredulous look marring his features as his eyes widened in disbelief. He had thought that Dumbledore could help. That he could understand.

"Professor Severus Snape may be a bit... rough around the edges, my boy, but he is here for a purpose. If I recall, he has many a time complained to me about your own behaviour."

"But I haven't done anything! He's a bully. He hates me and I don't know why." Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"There are some things that may never be revealed I am afraid. There is a reason for everything, and unfortunately, I am unable to disclose all that you may wish." He took a breath, deep and long as he sunk into his chair. "I have had words with Severus, and he has come to see things my way more oft than not. I can only take what has been said to me, not what I have not seen." Dumbledore appeared his age; he seemed so weary of everything, and Harry couldn't help but feel pity for the man before him.

"Snape can't stand me. Potions was the lesson I thought I would enjoy the most at Hogwarts. I've always had to be a good cook. I had to know what went where and what each ingredient did to a meal. Aunt Petunia taught me. She said that if I was going to make the food, then I would be making it perfect. And I never got complaints, not recently anyway, so I thought that Potions would be so similar, and it was. But Snape... Sir, he's always so horrible. He's a bully. I was so looking forward to it, but he ruined it."

By the end of it, he was panting, flushed and trembling. Dumbledore sat there maintaining eye contact, his eyes twinkling madly.

"I will speak to Severus further, my boy, you have my word," he said in the same volume as Harry's normal voice. "I'm afraid that Mr Malfoy's life is benefited from the world of politics, Harry. A lot of what occurs in the castle is of my benediction, unfortunately, I have a lot less power here than people believe.

"And on the case of the Dursley's." Harry could have wept. "I am truly sorry Harry. I truly, truly am."

The two cried, one for the injustices of the world, and one for the misery he felt in his empathy for the other. For his guilt and shame.

Then the most beautiful song filled the room and it all felt okay again. It was as if a weight was removed from his heart as the pure serenity filled his body.

Harry closed his eyes as he absorbed the complete beauty of the melody. It was as if a light erupted from his heart, and he embraced it all. Every worry, every hurt was relieved. His tears returned but they were no longer of the shadows that had been consuming him.

The tune ended, and his eyes opened once more. Dumbledore was stunned by what he had witnessed. The purity of Fawkes' cry was such that it would cause immense pain in those who dabbled in darkness, but of the light, it would have the complete opposite effect. Such as what happened in front of him, as Harry Potter had been, for lack of a better word, purified.

Never had he seen such a strong reaction. 'Harry. You...'

For just a brief time, a moment of bliss, Harry's scars did not ache. For the first time, Harry felt pure happiness.

"Harry, my boy, I feel you may surprise us all."

Author's Notes:

So Harry's maturing as a person here; he still needs his comfort from those around him, but he's developing emotionally as his healing is starting to take effect. This is the start of a much better Harry, and things will begin to improve for him. Of course, there will still be bumps in the road, and it will be an uphill struggle, but they will from now on be getting better for him.

The lines that seem familiar are taken from the Chamber of Secrets.

And before anyone says anything. Yes, I know the Horcrux is dark and didn't hinder Harry. My theory is that the Horcrux isn't a part of Harry, it's just an attachment, so, therefore, isn't a part of his soul. It leeches off of him but does not consume him. Don't look too deep into that scene though. I put it in just to show that Harry is pure of heart and that he can fully realise that he is stronger than he believes.

A lot of what I will write may not have any obvious meaning (at this point) – though it may come to a realisation later in the story. I don't believe in too much exposition unless it has a point to the story. I want the actions and dialogue to mean something to the characters and the plot. This may mean that some could get confused as to why I've written what I have. If I get people asking questions, I will try to answer it in the chapters following the one released, but if it's going to be revealed later anyway I won't say anything.

Next Chapter: Tangled Webs