AUTHORS NOTE: You like me! You really, really, like me!
Seriously, boys and ghouls, as of writing this note, here are the stats. Reviews: 235 Follows: 1,039 Favorites: 603 Communities: 13 and Views: 51,570
I'm giddy, thrilled, euphoric, and any number of other appropriately descriptive adjectives.
So onto important stuff. I'm thinking, thinking, that I might have this year wrapped up in the next maybe five or six chapters, give or take a nickel. Which honestly concerns me a little as I haven't even finished the next chapter yet. I'm concerned about being able to stick to my every Tuesday post schedule but fear not, I shall struggle through all hardships. I shall persevere through wind , rain, sleet, snow, wait…. I don't get sleet or snow in Southern California… I'll MOVE somewhere where there is sleet and snow to prove my loyalty to the cause! That might be a bit excessive… hmmmm… Sorry I'm sleep deprived and in a silly mood.
Point being, I'm doing my level best to keep to the schedule I outlined at the beginning, if I slow down a bit I apologize in advance but promise you this story will not be abandoned.
Moving on again. Last night at work I was working out this note in my head but I can't remember most of what I wanted to put down now that it comes time to write it so I'll just leave you guys with a quick question. As I stated in my first authors not I was planning on doing a separate story for each year. Now I'm wondering if I should do that. I'm open to thoughts and suggestions from you guys.
Should I finish this one then post a new story or just end it like "End Part One" and then post a new chapter stating "Beginning Part Two"? What do you guys think?
Disclaimer: Please, please, I'm just a poor security guard and author. I have a wife and kids. I couldn't own Harry Potter if my life depended on it. No sue the poor man. Thank you.
And now. Without further ado. Chapter Ten of Soul Scars.
Soul Scars
By,
Rtnwriter
"You found him?" Neville gasped out, mouth gaping open. Harry was glad the other boy hadn't been eating yet when they dropped the bombshell on him.
"Harry found him," Hermione pointed out, a happy grin on her face. "It was on Boxing Day. Susan and Daphne and I were going through the library, looking for any reference we could find on Flamel when he came running into the room, screaming his head off like his pants were on fire."
"I was not screaming," Harry grumbled and the girls smirked.
"Screaming, Harry."
"I was excited."
"As well you should have been." Daphne reached over Susan and gently patted his cheek while Neville smirked at him.
"Traitor, he growled, glaring at his friend whose smirk only widened.
"Anyway, he was waving something around and shouting that he'd found him over and over. When we finally got him to calm down he showed us what he'd found." Hermione reached into her robes and withdrew a card, which she handed across the table to Neville. Tracey and Hannah, sitting on either side of him, leaned in to look at the card in his hands.
"Dumbledore's chocolate frog card?" Tracey looked confused until Neville flipped the card over and started to read.
"'Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the Dark wizard Grindlewald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicholas Flamel'!" The three of them stared across the table at the grinning foursome.
"But… that still doesn't tell us what's being guarded or what it has to do with Flamel."
Harry snorted, "it does if you've got a steel trap for a mind, like Hermione," he said as the mentioned girl flushed brilliantly on his right. She jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow but he looked completely unapologetic.
"As soon as Harry read us the card I remembered reading about Flamel before. The reason we couldn't find him is that we kept looking at more recent history. Flamel and his wife are both over six hundred years old!"
"How in Merlin's name is that possible?" Tracey demanded. "I mean, wizards can live for a long time, but that's just ridiculous."
"Flamel is the only known creator of a Philosophers Stone," Hermione told them and then sighed at the blank looks on their faces. "Honestly, am I the only one in this group that actually reads?" she griped ignoring Harry's insulted 'Oi!' from beside her. "The philosophers stone is the penultimate goal of alchemy. It can turn any base metal into gold and it can create a liquid called the elixir of life. The elixir is how the Flamels have lived for so long."
Neville considered that in silence for a moment as food suddenly appeared on the table in front of them. "Well, I can understand why that would be worth stealing."
They spent the rest of the feast on their first day back from the holidays talking of lighter things though Harry knew all three girls would occasionally throw him concerned looks.
It wasn't that he didn't appreciate it. It was an interesting experience knowing people that were actually concerned about him for a change. But after a while it started to wear on him. They hadn't discussed what he'd said in the hall on Christmas day and every time he thought of it he cursed himself anew for speaking more than he should have. He shouldn't have given them that glimpse into his home life.
Finished first, Harry bid his friends goodnight and waved the girls down when they looked like they wanted to follow him.
"I'm just heading to the tower," he said. "Kinda feel like a little peace and quiet for a minute, it's noisy in here." He offered them a small smile which they seemed to accept though he could still feel concern radiating from all three of them as he left the Great Hall and began a leisurely stroll toward Gryffindor Tower.
Harry had his head down, staring at the stones beneath his feet as he walked, letting muscle memory guide him on a sort of auto pilot to where he needed to go. Suddenly, a pair of hands wrapped around each arm, lifted him off the ground, and carted him away down a side passage.
Panic ripped into him for a second before it was replaced by anger and he kicked and fought as hard as he could until his captors dropped him. Spinning, his right elbow flashed out and there was a crunching sound followed by a pained grunt before he turned back to his left and lashed out with his foot, burying his toe in his second attackers groin.
His target sank to the ground, letting out a piteous moan and Harry stepped forward, ready to kick again before he finally recognized the bright red hair.
"Fred?" he asked. "George? What the hell is wrong with you two? Why would you sneak up on someone like that?" One hand was held clutched to his chest as he attempted to will his racing heart to slow. It wasn't long before the twins were able to slowly get to their feet. One, hunched over a bit, his hands resting on his knees, while the other had his head tilted back, stemming the flow of blood from his abused nose.
"Gred?" said the one on his left.
"Yes, Forge?"
"Make a mental note to self: Do not sneak up on ickle Harrykins."
"Duly noted Forge."
Harry just stared at them.
"Forge?"
"Yes, Gred?"
"Mental note to yourself or myself?"
"Either? Both?" he shrugged. "Does it really matter? I just don't want to get kicked in the pills again."
"A worthy and noble reason, brother mine."
"I thought so, my brother."
"Guys! Seriously, what the hell is going on, why did you grab me?"
"We have some news. Wood-"
"-let it slip and we wanted to let you-"
"-know as soon as we could."
Harry eyed the twin on his right, Forge, apparently. "What news?"
"It's about the upcoming Hufflepuff match."
"Word is, that Snape is going to be the referee."
Harry summed up that little piece of information rather eloquently. "Well… shite."
#####
"Don't play," Susan demanded the next day after lunch when he told them about Fred and George's sneak attack. They were sitting in their usual seats, the girls on the small sofa before the fire and Harry occupying the chair he'd taken on their first night in the tower.
"Say you're ill."
"Pretend to break your leg," Hermione tried.
"Really break your leg," came Daphne's suggestion. She paused when she noticed all three of them staring at her. "What?" she said, defensively. "It's not like I want Harry to get hurt but how much danger do you think he'll be in out on that pitch with Snape in charge? He did try to kill him once already. Remember the broom?"
"Look, girls, I can't do any of that," he finally said, interrupting them before they could get going again. "There isn't a reserve seeker so if I don't play then the team has to forfeit. I already get enough attention around here that I don't want, if the whole House is pissed at me over losing us the game, well, life'll get really unpleasant around here."
They didn't like it, but before they could say anything else the portrait covering the entrance to the common room swung open and Neville toppled into the room. His legs were stuck together with a leg-locker curse and while the majority of those students present burst out laughing at the sight of him, Harry and Hermione were already on their feet and speeding his way. Hermione quickly cast the counter charm and as his legs sprang apart Harry was able to help the sweating, exhausted boy to his feet.
"Thanks, guys." He panted and let himself be led to the chair Harry had so recently vacated. Harry seated himself on the arm of the sofa next to Susan as Hermione resumed her seat in the middle of the other two girls.
"So, wanna tell us what happened?" Harry asked after Neville's breathing had slowed to a more normal level.
Neville grimaced. "It was Malfoy," he growled. "Ran into the git outside the Library and he said he'd been looking for someone to practice that on."
Harry frowned. "What do you plan on doing about it?"
Neville shrugged. "Nothing I guess. He's a better wizard than I am, there's not much I can do, really."
"That's the biggest load of horse shite I've heard in a while, Nev." Harry's tone wasn't particularly hostile but he was firm. He ignored the shocked look on his friends face, as well as Hermione quietly admonishing him for his language, and continued on, "Malfoy is a prat, and a peacock, always preening and strutting around like he's Merlin's gift to magic. You know as well as I do that he's just as slow on the uptake as some but he doesn't have the same excuse you do for why you have more trouble catching on with spells."
Neville snorted. "Right, I'm even worse than I thought. Thanks for the cheering up Harry."
"No. You're using the wrong wand."
The three girls and Neville all stared at him, nearly identical looks of confusion on their faces and Harry arched blinked, surprised at their reaction.
"Really?" he asked. "I'm the only one that sees it?"
"What do you mean?" Hermione was staring intently at Harry.
"Nev, weren't you saying, just before we left for the holidays that you're using your Dad's wand?" He noticed understanding dawning in Daphne's and Susan's expression at that revelation.
Neville nodded and pulled the well worn wand from within his robes. "My parent's were Aurors," he said. "When it took so long for me to really show off any accidental magic my family was worried. Gran said she thought maybe using my dad's wand would be good for me, since he was such a great man, and a great wizard."
"Hermione?" Harry turned to the brains in their group. "What'd Ollivander say when you went in to get your wand before school?"
She blinked, thinking back over that trip to Diagon Alley. "Well… he said that the wand chooses the-" she fell silent as her eyes widened, "the wand chooses the wizard," she cried. "Oh, Neville, that's it! Your dad's wand just isn't suited for you."
Neville looked confused, idly caressing the wand in his hands.
"Nev, bear with me here. Cast a lumos would you?" Harry gently requested.
Still confused but willing to give his friend the benefit of the doubt, Neville complied. The tip of his wand lit up but it was weak and fluctuated and it took him three tries to get it to work.
"Here," Harry handed over his holly and phoenix feather wand. "Give this one a shot."
That time, when Neville called out the spell, Lumos, the tip of Harry's wand lit up immediately. It still wasn't exceptionally bright, but it was brighter than with his dad's wand and it was more steady.
"How did that feel?" Harry asked, taking in the shocked look on his friends face.
"It was… wow, that was way different than using my dad's old wand. It always felt kind of… cold in my hands. But yours is so warm, Harry. That's a great wand." He handed the wand back to Harry who tucked it into his robes.
"Look, I think you need to talk to your Gran, Nev." Neville looked absolutely terrified by the very idea, sure he'd stood up to his gran over the holiday on the Boy-Who-Lived thing but this was his dad's wand!
Harry pressed on before he could attempt to mount a protest. "Seriously, Nev. I get it. It's your dad's wand. I just recently received something that belonged to my dad and I get how much this must mean to you and to your gran, but you have to admit that wand is holding you back in school. You're a much better wizard than you think you are. Neville Longbottom."
Susan leaned forward and patted Neville's knee to get his attention. "He's right, Nev," she said. "That creepy old guy said the same thing to me. Each wand and wizard or witch won't work together. Some are better suited to your magic or your personality. I'm not really positive how it all works but I remember my auntie telling me about when she got her first wand. Said it took her over half an hour trying wands before she found something that worked right for her."
"Took me twenty minutes," Daphne said, and Hermione nodded, holding up her vinewood and dragon heart string wand.
Neville sat back, a frown furrowing his brow as he considered that. "Gran won't like it. She says I should be honored to use my dads wand."
"And I don't disagree with her, I'd be honored and thrilled to have either of my parents wands," Harry admitted. "But I wouldn't want to use that wand. It'd be better if the wand actually suited you, Nev. Would your gran prefer you use your dad's wand and do awful in school, or would she rather maybe display the wand on the mantle right underneath the awards and certifications that you're going to earn because you get yourself a wand that works right for you."
Neville considered that information and while he did that Harry reached down and lifted Susan's arm up so he could glance at the watch on her wrist.
"Look," he offered. "It's a few hours still until dinner so why don't we get working on that Transfiguration essay that McGonagall assigned and you can think about all this later. If you want I'll even help talk to your Gran later, how's that sound Nev?"
The smile that Neville gave to Harry was grateful and he nodded. "I'd appreciate that, Harry. Gran can be… stubborn."
"No worries Nev."
Gathering together supplies they made their way to the library where they found Tracey and Hannah sitting at a table with a boy none of them recognized immediately, sitting between them.
"Guys," Tracey said when she looked up to see them approaching the table. "I'd like to introduce you to Blaise Zabini, heir presumptive of House Zabini."
Most of the Gryfindors gave Tracey a strange look at her introduction but they quickly collected themselves and made the proper introductions with their full titles and houses, though Harry expressly did not introduce himself as Lord Potter. He still needed to talk to the girls about that.
"Tracey, care to explain what's going on here?" Harry asked, his eyes narrowed slightly at the green trim on Blaise's robes and the Slytherin crest on his chest.
She looked around them and leaned forward, lowering her voice. "Look, guys, I've known Blaise for years. He's a good guy and doesn't proscribe to all the crap Malfoy spouts."
"How did I not know this?" murmured Daphne. Harry could feel a sense of betrayal coming from the beautiful blond.
"Your dad really doesn't like House Zabini. They have been on opposite sides of business dealings in the past and he wouldn't have liked you spending time with the scion of the House," Tracey explained. "So, basically, whenever you and I weren't spending time together growing up I would hang out with Blaise."
"If I may?" Blaise cut in, speaking for the first time and everyone seemed to look at Harry, waiting for him to decide.
He nodded sharply, keeping a wary eye on the boy while they waited for him to speak.
"Tracey has spoken truly. I do not, nor does my House proscribe to any of the pureblood bigotry or judgements. My mother has always taught me that a persons station is less important than the person that holds it. You, Mister Potter, hold an extremely high station in our world right now. You've got more political influence and power than you know, but you would never abuse it or use it to benefit only yourself, from what Tracey tells me.
"I find I would much rather be friends with someone like you, than with the opportunistic, back stabbing bastards that make up the majority of my house here at school. I am willing to swear a magically binding oath that I mean none of you any harm if that would make you feel better."
Harry stared at him for a while longer before glancing at the three young ladies bonded to him. No words were shared between them but after a moment he turned back to Blaise and offered his hand. "I've said it several times now, but I don't know anyone who has too many friends," he said. "The fact that you're willing to offer the oath means a lot, to me, at least. So I don't think that'll be necessary, right away. I'm sorry if we don't all warm up to you quickly, but we're all our own people. Some of us might take longer than others to get comfortable."
Blaise smiled and accepted the hand, giving it a firm shake before lowering his arm to his side. "That's entirely understandable. It'll be nice to sit with people that are at least honest about how they feel instead of pretending to be your friend, while simultaneously plotting to betray you at the first opportunity."
Harry smirked. "It's not a very Slytherin thing to do," he said, "offering to take a wizards oath right off the bat like that."
"Possibly," Blaise admitted with a nod. "Unless of course, I was expecting you to react exactly as you did and not force the issue."
Harry looked a little less sure of himself after that but the quiet chuckles coming from the majority of the group had him giving a wry grin before he suggested that they all get to work.
They took their seats after that and homework came out of bags. Somehow, Harry found himself sitting across from Blaise with Hermione and Susan on either side of him with Daphne once again sitting on Susan's other side. For a brief moment he wondered why they always seemed to wind up sitting that way, it was almost as if Daphne was attempting to keep distance from him, but with how she'd warmed to him after the troll incident on Halloween he didn't think that was the explanation.
When Blaise started asking him for help with some of their charms work he pushed the thought from his mind and the next two hours passed swiftly as the group chatted quietly and rolls of parchment were filled with essays. Harry found Blaise to be a hard read. He seemed to play things close to his chest and didn't give much away as they talked, but Harry still got the feeling that he was sincere about wanting to be friends. As they were packing up to go down to dinner Harry decided he'd seen enough to continue giving the quiet Slytherin the benefit of the doubt. He even entertained the idea that he might become a good friend one day.
#####
"Mister Potter."
Harry turned, surprised to find his dinner interrupted to find Professor McGonagall standing behind him, her face set in its usual stern expression. Something had been different about McGonagal, though, since their conversation with Dumbledore in the hospital wing on Halloween. That one incident seemed to be where many changes in the people around him stemmed from. There was something soft, almost sad, in McGonagalls eyes whenever she looked at him despite any disapproving or stern glare she might otherwise school her face into.
"Professor?"
"When you are finished with your meal, I would like you to meet me in my office." She glanced at the girls that surrounded him and with a somewhat apologetic expression added, "only, Mister Potter, I am afraid."
Hermione, Susan, and Daphne all frowned, nearly identical expressions of disproval but Harry simply shrugged and nodded, not letting the trepidation he felt at this strange request show in his face or posture.
"Of course, Professor."
She nodded and turned to make her way from the Great Hall as he turned back to his food, ignoring the three tense figures to either side of him. "There's nothing to worry about until there's something to worry about," he said, suddenly and felt their surprise as he saw Neville give him a strange look across the table.
He sighed and set down his fork. "Yeah, I'm not thrilled to be summoned to my Head of Houses office with no warning. As far as I know I haven't done anything I could be in trouble for…" he trailed off for a moment, looking thoughtfully at the ceiling before he added, "at least, nothing that she should have been able to find out about."
He grinned when Susan and Daphne both snorted.
"The point stands, though, that we don't know why she asked me to come see her so there's no point in assuming that it's bad news before I even meet with her, right? I'm trying to be a little more optimistic."
Hermione didn't seem to agree but Daphne and Susan nodded and Neville just shrugged and returned to his own food. Harry finished eating quickly and stood up from the table. "I'll see you all later in the common room?" he asked and his friends all nodded though he couldn't help but notice worried looks from his bonded. He gave them a smile and with a small wave made his way from the Hall.
"Come ahead, Mister Potter," Professor McGonagall called when he knocked on the door to her office a few minutes later. With a shaking hand he pushed the door open and entered to find the Professor sitting at her desk with a man wearing Healers robes occupying one of the straight wooden chairs she reserved for meetings with students. Harry closed the door and walked over to sit in the other chair, looking curiously back and forth between the two of them.
"You wanted to see me, Professor?" he asked.
McGonagall nodded, her expression as stern and impassive as ever. "Yes, Mister Potter. I… I have been informed, without going into detail, that you had a bit of a bad experience at the start of the Christmas Hols."
Harry frowned, remembering the panicked terror but unable to really put together many of the details. "So I've been told," he muttered.
"Madam Bones informs me that you and she spoke about setting up regular meetings with a Mind Healer to attempt to help you deal with some of the trauma you've experienced in your life."
He nodded again and shoved down the rising shame and panic that always seemed to well up whenever his past became a part of conversation. He reminded himself it was a necessary evil. "She did."
"This, is Healer Gant. He was apparently the Healer that was called on the night in question and examined you. We would like to start setting up weekly sessions, Fridays after dinner. You will meet the Healer here in my office."
"So, I don't have any say in this then?" he snapped, his gaze hardening into emerald chips as he studied his Head of House. "Madam Bones made it clear it was my decision, just impressing on me the importance of it."
She winced, but hid it well. "No, Mister Potter, I am afraid that you do not. That decision has been taken from Madam Bones as well. Based on how you responded during your… episode, it has been determined that you could be a danger to the people around you. The School Board of Governors has rules in place for such occasions. Unfortunately, you either agree to the sessions or the board would be forced to see you removed from the school and sent to St. Mungos Hospital for treatment."
"How did they even find out about it? And why did Amelia tell you?" he demanded. He was hurt and shoved down the rising feeling of betrayal. Amelia had said she would need to inform some people, he reminded himself. Don't jump to conclusions.
"Professor? Might I speak for a moment?" the Healer said and she nodded to him. He turned to face Harry a little more fully though he continued to stare straight ahead at the wall.
"Mister Potter. I get the feeling that you're feeling a touch betrayed, here."
"Shouldn't I be? I was told that my… situation wouldn't be blabbed about and instead I find that more and more people know all about it with little consideration as to how I feel about that."
"And that sucks like a Hoover." Harry started and glanced at the man. "Muggle-born," he said. "Yeah. That sucks. But you need to consider a few things, Mister Potter. First, your school Healer didn't have a choice in the matter when she discovered what you've been hiding. As you are still a child, and as a healer in a school responsible for the health and safety of the children in her charge, she was duty bound to report your condition. She did not have a choice in the matter. Amelia had to contact me to look you over that first night, and your incident started on the platform by the Hogwarts Express. Plenty of people witnessed your initial reaction and the backlash. And Professor McGonagall is your head of house, she has to approve meetings such as these and has offered us the use of her office so I could Floo here directly and leave directly, limiting the chance of any other students realizing I'm here.
"Second, I get that you have spent a number of years now, looking entirely after yourself. That's admirable, but you have finally found yourself in a situation where there are people willing, even eager, to help look after you. You shouldn't do it all on your own, it is the adults job to help keep you safe and to get you better."
"Where were the adults in charge of keeping me safe when I was actually in danger?" Harry snapped. "Fat lot of good they did me then!" He knew that wasn't fair but couldn't help himself and took several deep breaths, trying to calm down.
"Most of the ones that want to help didn't know who you were or where you were. Can you honestly blame them for something they had no control over?"
Harry glared, mutinously at the man for several moments before finally heaving out an explosive sigh and muttering a sullen, "no."
"Third, your power is immense, for a kid your age. If you don't start working your way past the trauma and start healing you're likely going to explode one day, and the people closest to you are going to suffer the brunt of it. Is that what you want?"
Immediately an image flashed into Harry's mind of Daphne, Susan, and Hermione lying broken and battered on the ground, all because of him, and he paled considerably.
"Here's what I can tell you, kid, and what I can do for you. I've been hired, personally, by Madam Bones. She loves her niece, and she understands that her niece cares about you. So she wants you to get help. She's still working on the legal situation, but you need to help too. You need to pull your weight on this end of the equation or it won't matter what she pulls off. It's all going to end in tears.
"I'm going to come once a week. You and I will talk. You'll tell me about how you were treated growing up, how you got the scars I've been told about. I'll have to take some pictures of those scars. But other than an official report on your statement for the DMLE and for the muggle authorities I will swear an oath right now that nothing you tell me will go beyond you and I. And we don't just have to talk about your past. You can talk about whatever is bothering you. Whatever is going on in your life that you might need help with. That's what I'm here for and that's what I intend to do."
#####
Hermione looked up from her homework, an essay for potions. She looked back down. Two minutes later, she looked up again and huffed out a breath as she glared at the entrance to the common room.
"Hermione, you really need to stop," Daphne told her in a gentle tone, not once looking up from her own Charms homework.
"What? I'm not doing anything!" Hermione squeaked and hunched back over her parchment, quill scribbling madly away.
"You're worrying yourself sick."
"And why aren't you worried?" she burst out. Hermione threw her quill down on the table the three of them had commandeered and glared at the blond beside her. "You felt it. I know you did. He was angry and scared and sickened."
"I know he was, Hermione." Daphne sighed and sat back in her seat, carefully setting her own quill down.
Susan looked back and forth between the two of them, startled by the difference in the two girls. Hermione was a mess. Her brow was creased with lines of worry, her lower lip, swollen from chewing on it. Her hair stuck out at odd angles, even more wild and untamed than usual and her hands were dotted with splatters of ink.
Beside her, Daphne was the picture of a well bred pureblood lady. Not a crease or stain marked her clothes and her hands were clean and free of ink stains. She was calm and composed, almost emotionless in her control.
"She is worried," Susan suddenly said, startling herself by speaking. The other two girls turned their eyes to her and Susan suddenly felt a case of nerves hit her. She fiddled with her quill, rolling it back and forth between her fingers, nervously. "Hermione, Daphne is terrified. You don't honestly think someone is naturally so composed? She's suppressing. She's pushing down her worry, hiding it behind her training."
"Training?"
Susan nodded with a grimace twisting her face. "Pureblood girls are taught from early on that our behavior will one day reflect on our husband. A lot of the older families include lessons on etiquette and proper deportment. Daphne appears to have taken to the lessons on not showing your feelings very well."
Hermione looked at Daphne, a new gleam in her eye as she considered the blond from a new angle.
"It was an important lesson," Daphne said, her voice as cold as ice.
"Everything I learn about wizarding society just convinces me more and more that it's stuck in the dark ages," Hermione grumbled. "I'm sorry for implying you aren't worried about him, Daphne," she added, "I'm just… I'm just so worried. I mean… it's been hours now! We haven't felt anything from him in so long. And where is he, for that matter? Curfew was an hour ago."
Daphne shrugged. "I couldn't begin to tell you. But worrying yourself sick won't make things better. And this just reminds me, I still need to have a conversation with that boy." Her ice blue eyes flashed dangerously as a wave of some dark emotion filtered through their bond.
"What about?" Hermione asked, hesitantly.
"Remember when he hurt his shoulder?" Daphne asked.
Susan and Hermione nodded. As if they could forget. Hermione blindly reached out and grabbed Susan's hand as she remembered the fear that had filled her when the red head slipped from her broom.
"Remember how he hid from us that he was in pain?"
They nodded again, Hermione's expression turning curious as her mind started to work.
"How did he do that?" Daphne asked. "We're bonded. Our souls are connected. I can feel every emotion you two experience and I'm sure you feel the same from me, so how is he cutting us off? How is he hiding how he's feeling from the very people that literally share his soul?"
Neither girl had an answer to that. Daphne looked around the common room and glanced at her watch. "Look," she said, "it's after eleven. You two should get to bed, I'll stay up and wait for him."
"But I want to-"
"Hermione," Daphne cut her off. "You're going to make yourself sick and that won't do any of us any good."
"But-"
Hermione cut off again when Daphne turned her icy gaze onto her again. "You're missing the point, here. I know you're worried about him. We are too. But it's not just you and him. You're a part of us too. You don't have to do everything yourself. Trust us, trust me to pull our weight in this. You and Susan… you're warmer, and more affectionate than I am. I… I don't think he needs warm and affectionate right now. I think I might be able to relate to whatever is bothering him better than you could."
Her gaze softened and she reached out, taking Hermione's other hand in her own as her thumb began to rub small circles on the back of the other girls hand. "We're all three a part of this. You won't always be able to be the one that fixes things. You won't always have the answers. You won't always have the solutions. Sometimes you're going to have to let someone else help."
Susan pushed her homework into her bag and stood. "Come on Hermione." Over the other girls protests, Susan collected her homework, her bag, and the still protesting girl, and lead her away and up the stairs toward the girls dorms.
Once they had disappeared up the stairs Daphne returned to her homework and settled in to wait.
#####
Harry didn't have the slightest clue what time it was when he finally got back to the common room, and he didn't much care. It was well past curfew, he knew that much, but he didn't have a watch, as if the Dursley's would ever buy him something. Since leaving the Professors office he'd just been wandering aimlessly with no sense of direction or purpose and hadn't paid much attention to anything on his travels. He wasn't even sure entirely where across the castle his wandering feet had taken him.
It was a wonder he hadn't been caught by one of the patrolling prefects or Filch, to be perfectly honest.
"Harry?"
His head snapped up as the portrait swung closed behind him, wide eyes locking instantly on her icy blue gaze. Despite the cold color, he could see warmth, and concern in her eyes.
"Hey, Daphne," he muttered. She was sitting in the same chair near the entrance that she'd occupied before, when she caught him coming in from his early morning training. Once again, as before, she was perfect, with a thick text open on her lap.
"We've been worried about you," she told him after a minute of silence passed between them.
He looked around the room to find it empty of anyone else but the two of them. "Who's 'we'?" he muttered. "Looks like you're the only one here."
"Hermione was making herself sick, worrying about you. Susan and I finally had to force her to go to bed and I promised them I would wait up for you."
He winced but a moment later his face was once again schooled into an emotionless mask. She felt it was nearly as good as her own mask, but his had been forged in fires far worse than hers and it had been warped by the heat. The mask was imperfect.
"No one asked her to do that," he muttered sullenly.
"Well, that's what happens when people care about you. They worry about you, without being asked."
He didn't have anything to say to that for a time. Eventually, he shrugged and started forward. "Well, you can tell them I'm fine. I'm going to bed."
"That's it?"
He stopped a few paces past her and turned to look back. "What?"
"I've sat up all this time worrying for you, waiting for you, and you're just going to go to bed?"
"Again, I didn't ask you to."
"That doesn't matter." She stared at him for a moment before she heaved out a deep sigh and stood. Setting her book aside she walked up to him and held out her hand expectantly. He looked back and forth from her hand to her face, confusion written across his features as she just stood there, waiting.
Finally, not sure what else he was supposed to do, he reached out and took her hand. As her fingers closed around his he marveled at how soft her skin was, how her smaller hand fit in his. So lost was he in his observations that he hadn't even noticed her leading him by the hand to the armchair he'd used on their first night in the tower.
He found himself being pushed into the chair and watched as she seated herself on the sofa, as close to him as she could get.
"I don't know what happened tonight, Harry," she started, "and I'm not going to demand that you talk to me. I'm not going to try to force it out of you like Hermione might."
He snorted at that and rolled his eyes.
"You know she has the best intentions, right?"
He sighed and leaned back in the chair. "Yeah, I know she does. Just, sometimes she's a little…"
"Overbearing?"
"Just a little."
"That's only because she cares about you."
"I know."
They stared at each other, Daphne still perfect as always despite the exceptionally late hour while Harry was a rumpled mess, heavy bags under his eyes with his hair sticking out even worse than usual.
"Have you been sleeping?" she asked, suddenly.
He blinked, surprised at the abrupt change of direction. "Uh… yeah, I sleep."
"Two hours a night? Three?"
He didn't say anything.
"When did the nightmares start."
"What makes you think I'm having nightmares?" he shot back, anger stirring in his chest.
"We're broken, Harry," she reminded him with a small sigh. "We both are. I know broken when I see it. I know the signs of sleep deprivation. I have some idea of what your life has consisted of even though I can't begin to know the details but I can tell that you haven't had a full nights sleep since the night we arrived at the Boneyard."
He flinched at that but made no sound and no other movement, becoming almost unnaturally still.
"I think you should talk to me about what happened tonight. But I'm not going to demand. I'm not going to pester you. I just want you to know, I think I may have a better understanding than anyone else that you know. I won't pity you and call it sympathy. I won't offer false assurances, as well intentioned as they may be."
Still nothing. She couldn't even tell that he was breathing.
After five minutes of silence she decided to try a different tactic as the hats words from her part of the sorting came back to her. You don't trust. You'll survive, even thrive, if you let them in. But I can see it will be difficult for you.
"Did you know, that in some of the older pureblood families, children are considered property?"
He still didn't move but something in his eyes changed. Something in the way he looked at her had shifted subtly.
"It's part of very old laws regarding family lineage. Children are the property of the Head of House. So are wives for that matter. In wizarding law women are subservient in many ways as far as family is concerned. Look at Susan's Aunt. She's a Department Head and in charge of the entire Auror force. If she was married, her husband could order her to quit and our society would require her to obey his orders."
She hesitated, fighting the urge to change the subject, to lie, again. But if she wanted to show him that she could be trusted with the hard things, the painful things that he wouldn't speak of, she needed to trust him first.
"Not all scars leave a mark," she whispered, sure that her voice would fail her if she tried to speak any louder.
He didn't say anything, but he forgot, or failed to block his emotions and she could feel the terrified curiosity that flowed over their bond. Her mouth worked, opening and closing repeatedly but she couldn't force the words out.
Finally, the perfect princess facade fell away and there she was. The real Daphne Greengrass. Beautiful. Smart. Fragile, and a broken eleven-year-old girl.
"I'm sorry," she croaked out. She covered her face with her hands but when she felt him suddenly sit next to her and hesitantly wrap an arm around her shoulders she broke down the rest of the way and buried her face against his chest. She trembled, shoulders shaking with repressed sobs but no tears escaped her. Her throat hurt as she strained to hold back the cry that fought to claw its way from her.
She wasn't sure how long they sat there, him awkwardly trying to comfort her as she clung to him. Eventually she was able to pull herself together and she started to pull away but he kept his arm around her.
It was strange for both of them. They felt uncertain and confused, but there was something comforting in each others presence. They settled in as Harry kept his arm around her and, despite the tenseness in his muscles that he couldn't force away, she leaned into him, her head resting against the front of his shoulder.
"I lied," she whispered after the silence had stretched for some time between them. "I'm so sorry, Harry. I lied to you, and to Susan, and Hermione. I know how much you hate when people lie to you."
He said nothing, just held her and let the fingers of his right hand trail across her upper arm.
"I'm sorry I lied. I-I just… I didn't know how to…"
When she trailed off he started talking, the words pouring out of him without conscious thought. "You know I wasn't thrilled with you three at first, keeping something from me," he mused, all the while ignoring the thought that, after his trip to Gringotts, he was keeping something big from them. "I know you're all still holding back some information, keeping things secret. But Susan wasn't wrong, there are some things we just can't talk about. Not now. Maybe not ever." He shifted in his seat slightly, sliding down on the sofa until she was pressed firmly under his arm and against his side.
"I can't say that it doesn't bother me, knowing that you three are keeping something secret from me. Then again, I've got my own secrets. Things I can't talk about. I don't like it, but I guess I can understand it. It'd be kind of hypocritical of me, wouldn't it? To hold you guys keeping something back against you when you know I do the same thing. So I'm not going to make any demands, either. If you want to talk, though… I'll listen. If you want to just sit here in silence, we can do that too."
Her eyes closed and she lifted her free hand, letting it rest on his chest. She couldn't remember the number of times she'd imagined being in that very position. It was at once everything and nothing like what she'd imagined it to be. His presence was exactly as comforting and reassuring as she'd pictured. But that damned ingrained fear that gripped him. That terror that left every muscle in his body so tense it was as if he was carved from stone.
"My father," she whispered. "He's really not a good man. I didn't entirely lie, that first night, here with all of you. Father was thrilled when he thought I might possibly be bonded to a pureblood heir. As far as he's concerned my only value is what I can bring in for him. If he could arrange a betrothal contract for me he could get a lot for my bride price. He could gain himself more wealth, more prestige, more power, and all it would cost him would be to serve up his oldest daughter like a piece of meat to the highest bidder.
"And the better I behave, the more like a proper, subservient, pureblood woman that I behave, the more valuable I am. So he hired tutors, years ago. Tutors to teach me all about the rules and etiquette of high society. Tutors to teach me about the various families and where everyone fit in the social hierarchy. When I learned quickly, and well, I was ignored. If I struggled, or was too slow to learn, I was punished."
A part of him, a very large part, wanted desperately to ask how she was punished. What did these tutors do to her if she didn't learn fast enough? But he remembered his promise and kept his silence. He found the threads of anger her words stirred and ruthlessly crushed them, shoving them down as deep as he could so he wouldn't scare her.
"Thank you for telling me," he whispered after some minutes had passed and she didn't seem like she was going to say anything more. He sighed, heaving out a deep breath and she giggled slightly as his chest expanded when he inhaled, forcing her body up where she rested against him.
"Amelia… she's hired a healer to come visit me," he admitted.
It was her turn to keep silent and listen and she did so, listening to the words wash over her, feeling the strong beating of his heart under her fingers where they rested on his chest.
"I don't want to talk about it, to anyone. I don't want to talk about what's happened to me. I don't even want to think about it. But he says that I have to tell everything so they can put together a statement from me to use in getting me away from the Dursleys. He wants to… he wants to take pictures of the… of me, to show what they've done."
Without thinking her hand started moving, rubbing a gentle circle on his chest, attempting to soothe or reassure him, somehow.
"I'm just… I-I don't understand," he whispered. "I don't want to have to go back there and this will help them get me away, but…" He trailed off, unable to force the words out.
"It's hard to talk about, when people are demanding information. It's easier, but still difficult, when you can speak in your own time. When someone demands you tell them of the darkest moments of your life you just want to clam up and refuse them."
He nodded, grateful that she understood.
"Why can't you just tell them you're not ready yet?"
A shudder ran through him at that and she pressed herself tighter against him, offering what comfort she could.
"Because of the… because of what happened at the Boneyard that first day, the Board of Governors has decided I'm potentially a threat. If-if I don't agree to meet on their schedule they'll just have me pulled out of school and sent to St. Mungos."
She groaned and buried her face against his chest for a moment. "Interfering bastards," she muttered.
A small smirk twisted his lips. "Language," he gently admonished her in place of their favorite bushy haired bookworm and they shared a quiet chuckle for a moment before falling silent.
She noticed that his hand was moving against her shoulder but he wasn't stroking her arm, or her hair as he had been. A glance over and he was absently rubbing the side of his middle finger with his thumb, as if…
"Harry?" she asked, still staring at his hand.
"Hmmm?"
"Are you wearing a ring on your right hand?"
His fingers suddenly stilled and his hand clenched into a fist. She slowly reached up, giving him time to move away, if he wanted to, and she felt his muscles, shift but he remained where he was sitting. Her fingers touched his hand, and gently slid across his knuckles until she found the ring that sat on his finger. It felt like it was a thick, wide band with a large stone in the center and etchings on either side that she couldn't identify by touch.
Immediately she wanted to question him. Wanted to demand to know what the ring was, why she couldn't see it, where he got it, and even more questions. But she stomped down on that desire.
"Do you think you'll ever trust us?" she asked after a time.
"I do trust you," he said with a sigh. "It's not a matter of trust it's just…" he shrugged and pulled his arm from around her shoulders and held his hand out in front of them. A moment later the ring shivered into her view and she gasped, instantly recognizing it for what it was.
It really was a beautiful piece. Thick and wide, as she'd felt. On the left side of the heavy gold band was etched a Gryphon holding a sword in one paw with its wings spread wide and on the right was a shield with the Potter Family Crest. In the center sat a large ruby that gleamed in the light of the fire.
"It's beautiful," she whispered.
"Thanks. It's the Head of House Ring for House Potter."
She nodded. "I recognized it right away."
He arched a brow at her. "You've seen the Potter Ring before?"
"No. I meant that I recognized it as a Head of House Ring. They're all designed differently but there are certain details that make them easy enough to recognize. One of those, being that your Family Crest is on it. Only the Head of House is allowed to wear such on a ring according to wizarding law."
"I didn't know that."
"So, how is it that you were able to accept your status as Head of House while still only eleven, Lord Potter?" she asked and he winced.
"Please, it's still just Harry," he muttered. "My whole life, I've just tried to blend into the background, to go unnoticed. Ever since coming back to the wizarding world I keep getting thrust into the spotlight for one reason or another. I don't like it. It just feels wrong to me."
She nodded. "I can understand that, I think," she admitted, "and I'm sorry that it keeps happening to you. But we're all here for you, Harry. You know that. And we'll help you. Me, Susan, Hermione, Tracey, Hannah, Neville. You know we'll help, however we can."
"You didn't answer my question, though," she pointed out. "How?"
"When we went to Diagon Alley, my accounts manager told me that, because I was the last living member of my family I could take up my Lordship. Something about securing inheritance and having to see about the continuation of the family line." He was blushing by the time he finished, and so was she, but she nodded calmly.
"That makes sense, not that you really have to worry about it for a few years now."
They fell silent for a time, simply resting there. Daphne could dimly feel the emotions running through him, even as his body remained tensed beside her. "Do you feel any better?" she asked after a while.
He shrugged one shoulder. "A bit, I guess," he admitted and took a deep breath, setting her to giggling again as his expanding chest shifted her body. "It is nice, to be able to talk to someone that can understand. I just… I hope one day we'll both be able to tell each other everything."
"We will," she whispered. A moment later she spoke again, hesitantly, "you still owe me another conversation, you know?"
"What about?"
"How is it that you're able to hide how you're feeling from us? I mean… we share your soul. If there's anyone in the world that you shouldn't be able to hide from, it would be us. But we know that you can hide your physical pain. And I'm pretty sure you've been able to cut off your emotions too. So how are you doing it?"
He shrugged again. "I'm not entirely sure," he admitted. "I've just… I've spent so long hiding how I'm feeling. If I let on that I was upset or angry… it wasn't a good thing, you know?"
She nodded.
"So… I look at our link. That piece that bonds us, just how I look for my magic. And when I find it I sort of tuck it to the side. I imagine wrapping it up and pushing it way down deep inside where I can't find it anymore." He shrugged his free shoulder, unable to explain it any better than that.
She sat up at that, staring at him intently. "You mean you can actually identify the link between us?"
He blinked at that. "You mean you can't?"
She shook her head, studying him carefully.
"The link between us… it's not a physical thing, Harry. There shouldn't be anything there for you to find."
He blinked and frowned. "Well, yeah it's not physical," he said. "I mean… at first I would close my eyes and sort of try to feel for you and Hermione and Susan. After a week or so I could identify each of you by what you were feeling at any given time." He shrugged again. "I don't know, I can't really explain it. I think if you tried that though, just close your eyes and try to focus on the link, try to find and identify each of us… I think you'll be able to before long."
He stood and stretched, reaching high over his head, practically rising up on his toes before his arms suddenly dropped back to his sides, his hands slapping against his thighs. "It's getting really late, and I really am tired," he said. "Thank you, for staying up to talk to me. I… I didn't really know that I needed it, but I do feel better."
Daphne couldn't help but smile, thrilled to have been able to help him, if even a little bit. "You're right, it is late," she said, suddenly the collected and proper pureblood witch, once again. "Besides, you've got your Quidditch match coming up soon, you should try to get as much rest as you can." She stretched up on her toes and placed a quick kiss on his cheek before she turned and headed for the stairs. "Goodnight, Harry," she called. Behind her, she dimly heard Harry wishing her a good night as well as she made her way up the stairs and into the dorm that she shared with the other first year Gryffindor girls.
All of the bed curtains were pulled closed except for hers and Susan's. A quick glance told her that Susan wasn't in her bed so she quickly changed into her nightclothes and made her way over to Hermione's bed. When she pulled back the curtain she found the both of them, Hermione curled up in the center of the bed with Susan behind her, one arm wrapped tightly around the other girls waist.
Daphne lifted the covers and slipped into the bed, closing the curtains behind her. She scooted forward and laid down, laying her free arm across the both of them. She smiled, gently when, in her sleep, Hermione muttered something and cuddled closer to her, pressing her face into Daphne's shoulder and with the scent of old parchment and vanilla filling her nose Daphne slowly drifted off to sleep.
