I do not own Harry Potter.
…
Hermione was heading towards the Great Hall to hear which section of the castle she was supposed to be patrolling, and to inform Headmistress McGonagall that Harry had skipped Astronomy Class.
It had just hit the curfew time, and she hadn't seen another soul since leaving the common room. Ron hadn't needed to patrol that night, so he had stayed back and was currently defeating Dean at wizard's chess.
He really should be doing his homework, Hermione thought. She had thought that Harry had gotten better with his homework since he had been muted, but apparently not too much since he had skipped astronomy. She curled her lip. He really was terrible sometimes...but maybe he had just lost track of the time while he was with Ginny and then gone straight up to bed, realizing he had missed class anyway. Hopefully that was it; she would hate to think that he had purposefully neglected his education.
She had just reached the top of a series of staircases leading down to the Entrance Hall when a portrait caught her attention. A man, dressed in seventeenth century clothing, was trying to get her attention by saying, "Miss! Hello! This is urgent, I am sorry to disturb you but I would appreciate your attention!"
She turned to the distressed portrait man.
"Yes? What is it?"
"I am sorry for disturbing you, but there is a student lying at the bottom of a flight of stairs two staircases down. He seems seriously injured." The portrait said.
Hermione said a quick thank you and rushed down the stairs, her alarm spiking. Had the student fallen down the steps in a rush to get to his dorm before curfew? What if he was in fatal condition?
She stopped short halfway down the second flight of stairs, seeing the dark form that was the injured student. She couldn't see much, but she could tell from the way he was laying that he was either unconscious or was in too much pain to move his limbs to a more comfortable position.
She dashed forward once more and knelt at the student's side, then cast a lumos. She gasped when she instantly recognized Harry. His eyes were closed and his breathing was irregular, and there were small patches of blood seeping through his robes in several places. Where his robe sleeve had been pulled up she could see that his hand and arm were covered with dark bruising, and seemed swollen.
"Oh, Harry." she whispered. He opened his eyes at the sound of her voice. They were filled with pain.
"Don't worry, Harry, I'm here. Oh, what happened? H...hold on...I...I'll send for McGonagall and we'll get you to the infirmary..." she was simply talking, overcome by her concern for her obviously hurt friend.
She reined her emotions in and cast a patronus, sending it away to McGonagall with the message that Harry was seriously hurt and where to find them.
Then she turned her attention back to Harry. He had closed his eyes again, and she wasn't sure but he seemed to be lapsing into unconsciousness. She didn't know much about medicine, but she did know that sometimes it was dangerous for someone who was injured to "fall asleep." Sometimes they could enter a coma.
"Harry, don't black out on me. You can't. Stay awake; help is coming." Hermione said, trying to keep her voice calm. Hysterics would not help Harry right now; he needed something solid that he could use to keep himself awake.
He opened his eyes again and his eyes met hers. His mouth opened and closed a few times, and Hermione realized he was trying to speak, something he hadn't done in months.
She picked up his head and gently laid it on her lap.
"Shhh…shhh..." she whispered. He stopped, but he maintained eye contact with her.
Footsteps pounded up the staircase, and Hermione sighed in relief as McGonagall came into view trailed by the other prefects, who had followed her up.
"Headmistress, I don't know how but Harry's been hurt badly. It looks as if his arms and hands are broken." Hermione said as McGonagall rushed over.
"It is lucky you found him, Ms. Granger. We must get him to the infirmary immediately." Hermione gently laid Harry's head back on the ground and backed away so that McGonagall could take over.
McGonagall carefully levitated Harry and began to navigate down the stairs. "All of you go to your duties, except for you, Ms. Granger. Please get Mr. Weasley and come to the Hospital Wing. I think Harry would appreciate it." She called.
Hermione instantly rushed up the stairs and made her way to the tower as quickly as she could. She burst into the common room and pounded up the stairs to the boy's dormitory, as she didn't see Ron in the common room.
She had to withhold herself from simply barging into the dormitory, but she forced herself to knock.
"Yeah? Who is it?" Neville's voice called.
"It's Hermione, I need to see Ron. It's urgent." She called back.
She heard voices inside, and then Ron called, "Just a minute!"
"I don't have a minute! It's about Harry, now get out here or I'll come in there and drag you out myself!"
"Alright, alright, I'm coming!" Ron called back. Hermione stepped away from the door and wrung her hands worriedly. Couldn't Ron just hurry up? Harry needed them!
Finally Ron peeked out.
"What is it?" He asked.
Hermione reached forward, grabbed the collar of his pajama shirt and pulled him out.
"Harry has been hurt, a fall down the stairs it looked like. He's just been taken to the Hospital Wing, but he looked so bad, Ron..." Hermione rambled. Ron immediately set off down the stairs, finally realizing that this was truly serious.
She took off after him, and they made it to the Hospital wing in just over five minutes.
When they got inside the infirmary, Madame Pomfrey was hovering over Harry, hastily casting diagnostic spells. McGonagall was standing near, one hand covering her mouth. She turned when the doors opened to admit Hermione and Ron.
"I'm glad you two are here. Mr. Potter is still awake and seems to be in quite a bit of pain. He could use your support." She said.
"What happened?" Ron asked, walking quickly to Harry's side and meeting his friend's gaze.
"We obviously don't know for certain, as he cannot tell us. However, Ms. Granger found him at the base of a staircase. The most logical explanation is that he tripped and fell down the stairs." McGonagall informed them.
"How is he?" Hermione asked.
"My spells are showing that both arms and hands are broken, along with minor cuts and bruises all over. If a tumble down the stairs is indeed what happened, it was not simply one flight of stairs. He would have had to fall down both to have this many injuries." Madame Pomfrey informed them.
"Well, he'll be okay by Sunday, won't he?" Ron asked.
"He should be. He will have to take Skele-Grow for the bones and I should be able to heal the cuts and bruises with a few potions."
Madame Pomfrey hurried away to collect the needed potions, and Hermione came up beside Harry's bed. "You'll be alright in a little while, Harry." Hermione assured him.
...
(Harry POV)
"You'll be alright in a little while, Harry." Hermione said, leaning over him. He had been so immensely relieved when he opened his eyes to discover her leaning over him by the stairs. She had gotten help and now he was in the Hospital Wing, where Madame Pomfrey would heal him within a few days. Then he would get payback on those slytherins.
But in the meantime he was in a lot of pain, and Madame Pomfrey had not apparently discovered that it wasn't primarily the visible wounds on his body that were causing that pain, but magic. The curses should wear off soon, including that one that still paralyzed his legs, but until then he would have to deal with the pain.
"Do you hurt a lot?" Ron asked, and Harry weakly nodded, afraid to move.
"Your arms are the worst, right?" Hermione asked. Again Harry nodded, wincing slightly from the movement.
Madame Pomfrey came back, holding three vials of potions.
"Here, dear, swallow these quickly. I'll give you the potion for the pain first. The other two will heal the cuts and bruises you've got. Let me help you sit up." She said.
She helped him to sit up on the bed without using his broken arms and hands, and then held the potion vials to his lips one after the other. He gulped them all down quickly, not wanting to discover the nasty tastes that they were sure to have. Madame Pomfrey helped him lay back down.
"The skele-grow was not in the potions cupboard. I must have left it lying around somewhere; it will just take a minute. Accio skele-grow!" Madame Pomfrey said, but the frowned when no bottle of skele-grow came whizzing towards her. She cast the spell again, but again with no results. Harry began to get a feeling of dread.
Finally Madame Pomfrey tried the point me spell, but that was equally pointless. The wand simply pointed up, which generally meant that the particular thing you were looking for was not in existence.
She turned back to Harry with a torn look on her face.
"I am sorry dear. I'm going to have to have Horace brew another batch of it, which won't be ready until tomorrow night at the earliest. For now I will use a muggle splint to make sure that the bones don't get misaligned. At the moment that is the best I can do, I'm afraid."
Harry had a sinking feeling in his stomach. Of course something like this would happen to him. Madame Pomfrey summoned the necessary things to splint his arms and hands, and then cast a numbing spell on the injured areas. She then splinted his broken limbs, using a bandaging spell to secure the splints in place.
When she had finished he had splints encasing both his forearms and two oddly shaped splints keeping his hands and fingers immobile. He stared down at them, knowing that without his fingers and hands he was unable to sign or hold a pen.
"Is the pain leaving yet?" She asked, and Harry nodded. The spells the slytherins had used were wearing off, and the pain had also gone from his bruises and cuts. His arms were throbbing, but they weren't painful anymore and felt secure in the splints.
"I'm going to keep you here for the night, at least. Tomorrow morning I may release you until the skele-grow is ready, but tonight I think it is best that you stay where I can keep an eye on you and you can get some undisturbed rest." Madame Pomfrey said.
Harry nodded dismally. Didn't she realize the implications of his not being able to use his hands? They had been the only thing that he could communicate with, and now he was unable to use them. It didn't matter if they'd be better in a day or two, he neededthem. In a way, he felt like he was becoming a mute for the second time in his life, except this time, there was no alternate means of communication.
"You two should go to bed." McGonagall advised as she turned to Hermione and Ron.
"Can we stay with Harry for a few minutes? We won't be long, I promise." Ron asked. McGonagall looked to Madame Pomfrey.
"They can stay, for a little while at least. I'm sure Mr. Potter would appreciate it?" She said, looking at Harry for his agreement.
He gave his conciliatory nod, and Hermione and Ron both came closer so that they could actually be with Harry. McGonagall and Madame Pomfrey walked a few paces away and began an inaudible conversation. Harry didn't miss the fact that they would keep glancing at him, making it clear that they were discussing him. He felt so angry that he couldn't tell them, it was those slytherins! They did this to me! But it was trapped in him, and thanks to the slytherins he couldn't write his message either.
"That must have been a nasty fall, Harry. It's a wonder you didn't break your neck." Hermione said. His lips twitched.
"It seems a little odd, though. All those cuts, from a fall? The bruises and broken bones I understand, but…how did you manage to cut yourself that much falling down stairs?" Hermione said, as if talking to herself. Harry nodded, hoping she'd understand that he was not agreeing with her wonder about it, but was trying to tell her that she was onto something.
"Still, it isn't impossible…just unlikely." Hermione continued, not seeming to interpret Harry's nod for anything. He sighed gently in disappointment.
"You think you'll be better for the quidditch try-outs?" Ron asked uncertainly, glancing at Hermione in case she snapped at him for caring for something so trivial.
Harry shook his head. No, he wouldn't be better for the try-outs, most likely. Madame Pomfrey had said that the skele-grow wouldn't' be ready until the next night at the earliest. And even if he was released from the Hospital Wing in time for the try-outs, he would most likely be forbidden to play by Madame Pomfrey.
"Do you want me to post a notice in the common room then and delay them until Tuesday?" Ron asked. Harry again shook his head. Having the try-outs this early in the term would give them a head start in training. He wasn't willing to sacrifice that advantage, especially as he wasn't sure about how his silence would affect the game play.
"What do you want me to do then?" Ron asked, forgetting Harry could now only answer yes or no questions.
Harry weakly moved his arm towards Ron, so that it pointed at his friend.
"What is that supposed to mean?" Ron asked, not harshly, just bewilderedly.
Harry frowned and nodded towards Ron, hoping his sometimes dense friend would figure out what Harry was trying to say.
"He wants you to do it, Ronald." Hermione finally said. "Is that right, Harry?" she asked, looking at him to make sure she'd gotten it right.
Harry nodded, and Ron stared at him, still confused.
"Me?" He squeaked. Harry rolled his eyes.
"Of course, you." She said.
"But I've never done anything like that in my life! I can't decide who will be on the team!" Ron said, actually panicking.
Again, Harry rolled his eyes, hoping Ron would understand that Harry was confident in his judgment.
"That's it, you two go to bed. It is past midnight now." McGonagall said, joining them. "We all need our rest."
"Goodnight, Harry. We'll come see you tomorrow." Hermione said.
"Yeah…'night, mate." Ron agreed. Harry nodded, and they walked away, following the Headmistress. Madame Pomfrey came over to Harry, pulled his wand from his pocket and took his whistle from around his neck. Harry had actually forgotten about the gift, although he put it on every morning when he saw it on his nightstand. But, looking back, he couldn't think of a moment when he would have been able to use it to call for help. There had only been the one moment when he had been able to move, but surrounded by the slytherins. They would have taken and broken it, most likely, had he tried to use it.
"Is there anything you need, Harry?" Madame Pomfrey asked, and then, realizing her mistake, rephrased her question.
"Do you want another blanket?" Harry shook his head.
"Water?" Harry shook his head again.
"Anything?" Harry again shook his head, and Madame Pomfrey gave up. She took his glasses and put them on the side table, and made sure that the blankets were snug around him.
"Alright then. If you need anything I trust you can make it to my office?" She asked. Harry nodded.
"Goodnight then." She said, and walked away through her office door.
Harry sighed. He had hoped that there would be some way of revealing the night's true happenings to his friends. But he hadn't been able to, and he doubted that the truth would come out until Monday or later.
Again he let out a heavy yet soundless sigh, and closed his eyes.
"Why do things always happen to me?" He hissed. "I'm the orphan. The target of Voldemort. The one who has to kill or be killed. I'm the mute. The one who got beaten up. The one who can't tell anyone the truth. The one who's only audible voice can only be understood by animals and Voldemort! Why has life targeted me?"
He wallowed in self-pity until his exhaustion took over, and he fell into a restless sleep.
…
Harry's eyes flew open as he woke with a gasp of pain from pressure on his arm. Something had encircled it and was squeezing, squeezing so tightly that the splint had bent and he could feel his broken bones shifting and grinding against each other.
Someone was standing over him, but he couldn't tell who it was because of his blurry vision and the darkness of the Hospital Wing. The person was gripping Harry's forearm tightly, and had a wand pointed at Harry's upper arm.
"If you try to make a single sound in any way I will break the rest of your arm. And don't worry about that whistle; it is safely in my pocket. I'll give it back if you cooperate." Said a female voice, but one Harry didn't recognize.
"I'm here to clean things up, so to speak, as Parkinson was too excited and forgot to fully cover her actions. You are going to make me an unbreakable vow that you will not sign, write, or share you memories about any of the slytherin students' actions tonight, and that includes mine."
Harry stared at where he thought the girl's face was, confused and angry. He couldn't make a vow even if he had wanted to. To make an unbreakable vow the magic had to hear your words.
"You're not stupid, Potter, despite what some of my housemates think. You can speak Parseltongue, as I recall. I've heard you hissing to yourself around school, when you think you are alone or no one is listening. I know you can still speak it." Harry stared, astonished. How did this girl know so much?
"And before you start thinking that vows don't accept Parseltongue, think again. I know for a fact that they do. I also wouldn't try to escape this by saying something completely different. I have a companion who will notify me if you say anything but what I tell you to, in which case I will break both of your arms so badly that the nurse will have to vanish the bones and grow them back from scratch." Harry vainly roamed his eyes over the room, trying to find some other person, someone who could apparently speak Parseltongue too.
"Oh, he isn't a person, Potter. He's someone more discreet, but be assured, he is here and will do his job."
Harry finally looked back to the girl and smirked. Why should he make this vow? Even if the girl broke his arms again, it wasn't as if he would make the vow after that. He would be able to share his memory of it, and someone would be able to identify this girl's voice. Then she, and the other slytherins who had beat him, would be expelled.
"Confident, I see. I know what is going through your head. It isn't going to work like that. You see…if you fail to make this vow I will hunt down your friends, and give them worse treatment than what you received at the hands of Parkinson. I'll even swear that on my magic, if you doubt me. They patrol the halls at night, alone. They would make easy targets for someone who knows where they are, don't you think?"
Harry gulped. This girl – whoever she was – was obviously a much better manipulator and strategist than the slytherins he had encountered so far. As far as he could tell, she had him backed in a corner and she knew it. He couldn't let her hurt his friends…but how did he know that she wouldn't hurt them anyway after he had made the vow?
Again, it was as if she read his mind.
"I swear on my magic that if Harry Potter makes an Unbreakable Vow to me that he will not write, sign, or share memories of any slytherin student's activity or identities tonight, I will not harm his friends while they are in Hogwarts." The girl said, and Harry saw her wand tip flash with light, signaling that the pledge was genuine. "I swear on my magic that if he does not make an Unbreakable Vow to me that he will not write, sign, or share memories of any slytherin student's activity or identities tonight, I will hunt his friends and curse them until they are close to death." Again, the wand tip flashed with light, and again Harry gulped.
"Are you ready to make the vow now?" The girl asked, and Harry could hear the smirk in her voice. He nodded dejectedly.
"Good. Clasp my hand; the Bonder has just arrived." Harry started, realizing that another shape had come up behind the girl that had been speaking.
"Are you completely blind? Take my hand!" The first girl said crossly. Harry saw a light colored shape near his hand, and he moved his hand hesitantly to clasp it as well as he could. The girl squeezed a bit, making Harry grit his teeth in pain, but he managed not to suck in a telltale breath.
"Good. We are ready." The girl said, and Harry felt a wand tip touch his hand.
"Do you, Harry Potter, vow that you shall never use sign language, written words, or memories to reveal the actions or identities of the students of slytherin tonight?"
Harry took a deep breath, and then, wondering if the girl had been bluffing about her Parseltongue-understanding companion but still not willing to take the risk, hissed the necessary reply.
"I do." A ribbon of bright red came from the tip of the wand and coiled around Harry's and the girl's hands, binding their hands together. The tongue of light was there for a few seconds, and then it disappeared, sealing the vow.
"Satisfactory." He heard, and realized that the word was spoken in Parseltongue. The girl didn't seem to notice, however.
"Oh, and don't worry about the portraits telling what they saw. I've got that covered." The girl said confidently. Harry wondered how; a portrait couldn't make a vow. Still, he was beginning to think that this girl was the type to follow through on her words. If she thought that the portraits were under control, he thought that they probably were. Which meant he was truly trapped with the truth.
A small object which he identified as his whistle landed on his lap, and then the slytherins left without another word, leaving Harry to his hopeless thoughts.
