Chapter 37

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry, 19th February 2012

The next few days were reasonably quiet. Dean was snoring lightly laying on his side, one arm around Jo's bare shoulders. It was a blustery windy morning. Slowly, something started to come into his awareness. His head moved to one side, eyes peeling open. For the first half of a second, his eyes had to adjust to the light. Then a familiar figure came into his vision, looking confused with his head tilted to one side.

"Hello, Dean."

"Cas! What the hell?!" Dean hissed as he looked to Jo beside him. His heart leapt into his throat, banging against his ribs. She was still sleeping peacefully.

"My apologies," Castiel replied. "I need to speak with you, Dean."

Part of Dean wanted to tell the Angel to fuck right off. The fact was, despite him feeling a little guilty about snapping at Cas in the Hospital Wing, he still had a point. Cas wasn't there. He'd been flitting in and out all year. Angel civil war or not. And Dean was stabbed, no, fucking dying, and he hadn't shown. He remembered the last few seconds of consciousness he had, praying to Cas to help him.

Dean slipped out of bed, pulling his dressing gown around him and put a finger to his lips, then pointed at the door that led to the corridor. Both hunter and Angel left the room.

"What is it, Cas?" Dean asked, surveying the Angel with a levelling stare. The Angel didn't speak. "Hurry up Cas. It's cold, and I'm flapping in the breeze here," he frowned.

"I can help you if it's cold…" The Angel tilted his head in confusion, wanting to help him anyway he could, to make it up to him.

Dean fought the urge to roll his eyes. "I'm good Cas… what do you want?"

"I want to apologize," Cas began. "I was not there when you needed me."

"That was a pretty dick move there." Dean agreed with him. But I'm sure you had your reasons, man."

"I did, but that was no excuse. I should have come when I heard your prayer, but I was incapacitated."

"You said that…" Dean nodded. "What happened though?"

"I became aware that Crowley wanted to kill you. He was angry about the death of Eve. I've been keeping an eye on him since we found out he was alive. I confronted him, and he trapped me in Holy Fire."

Dean sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "You're alright though?"

"I am fine. It's you I'm concerned about," Cas replied at once.

"I'm alright. They magicked me up good and proper," Dean replied. "I'm sure I glow in the dark now." He added with a grin. Cas did not smile.

"I don't think magic can make you phosphorescent," Cas frowned.

"I'm not even going to pretend to know what that means," Dean sighed. "But you're forgiven Cas. Just don't jump off the radar again."

"Of course." Cas nodded. "Thank you, Dean."

"No problem, buddy," Dean smiled a little. He watched as the Angel flew away.

A noise behind him made him turn.

"Hey, what are you doing-" Sam was asking, when the wind blew in the wrong direction.

"Oh, God… Dean…." Sam groaned, covering his eyes. "Please tell me you are not commando under that thing…" he said rhetorically, knowing full well, unfortunately, that he was indeed, commando. Dean covered his lower half with a mock offended look on his face.

"Why were you looking?!"

"Kinda hard to miss."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Dean grinned. "Poor Jess… she must have been so disappointed…" Sam shot him with, what Dean liked to call, a level 6 bitch face.

"I'm gonna get dressed," Dean smirked. "Unless you wanna check out my ass…."

"No, for the love of God, go change."

Dean retreated back into his and Jo's room

"Where were you?" Jo asked, sitting up in bed.

"Cas turned up. He said sorry for not being around when I was stabbed. Turns out he confronted Crowley, and he trapped Cas in Holy Fire."

"Wow. Angels have issues with Demons. What a surprise." Jo rolled her eyes.

"True," Dean shrugged. He pulled on his robes quickly. "I must be popular today. Sam wants to talk to me too."

"Oh okay," Jo nodded. "See you at the Great Hall?"

"Sure."

Jo got dressed and left soon after. There was a soft knock on the door.

"You decent?" came a disapproving Sam.

"Yes." Dean rolled his eyes. Sam entered the room. "Prude…" He added under his breath.

"What's up?" Dean asked.

"I need to tell you something." Sam sighed, sounding annoyed.

"Okay then. Spit it out sasquatch. I'm starving." Dean grumbled as he tied his shoes.

"Remember when you guys went to Hogsmeade on Valentine's?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, you were sick," Dean looked at Sam as he spoke. "Why? Were you not?"

"Not really," Sam sighed.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked suspiciously.

"I think there's a crack in the wall." Sam hung his head.

"Another one?" Dean's eyes widened. "And you waited 5 days to tell me?! What the fuck, Sam?!"

"Because I knew you would react this way!" Sam exclaimed. "Look, I'm fine."

"Would you know if you were fine?! Dammit, Sammy." Dean started to pace. "You could've died! I thought you didn't want any more secrets between us! Now the shoes are on the other foot I guess."

"You know that isn't fair Dean." Sam crossed his arms across his chest.

"You promised you wouldn't poke at the fucking wall," Dean scowled, rubbing a hand over his face.

"You think I did this on purpose?!" Sam replied heatedly.

"I didn't say that," Dean glared.

"But you sure as hell were thinking it, weren't you?!"

"Stop putting words in my mouth, damn it! I'm just worried about you!" After a minute of tense breathing, he added. "I'm sorry man…"

Sam looked at Dean in surprise.

"I don't wanna fight with you over this," Dean continued. "I just want you to look after yourself. You're my pain in the ass little brother. You know it's my job to worry."

"I… I know," Sam replied, taking a calming breath. He knew Dean was just looking for his best interests and wellbeing. "I'm sorry too."

"But you're okay? I mean nothing got shook loose up there, did it?"

"No, I don't think so," Sam replied. The conversation with Dumbledore could stay private.

"I'm okay."

Breakfast that morning was an awkward affair. They didn't speak much. Sam told his parents what happened a few days before. They were worried of course, and a little angry that Sam didn't tell them. Sam understood why, but he just wanted to forget about it.

"Why didn't ya tell us, ya idjit?" Bobby had scolded.

"Did you see the Daily Prophet?" Sam asked, changing the subject.

"Why are you still reading that crap?" Dean frowned, looking at the newspaper in Sam's hands. From here all he could see was a bunch of Dark Magic propaganda.

"I know, but nevermind that. It says here that the wandmaker, Mykew Gregorovitch was found dead in his home last night."

"Wandmaker?" Dean asked. "Wasn't-"

"Ollivander, yeah," Sam replied. "That's the second wandmaker to be murdered in a few months."

"That's weird…"

Harry was walking down the corridor, the Marauder's Map in hand. He unfolded the parchment, a firm purpose in his thoughts.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he said quietly and tapped the Map with the tip of his wand. At once, the ink began to appear, bringing the Map to life. It didn't take too long for Harry to find the name he was looking for, although he was surprised at where he found it. Draco Malfoy's name appeared in the second-floor girls' bathroom. Right beside it, was the name, Myrtle Warren, or 'Moaning Myrtle,' as most of the school knew her.

This wasn't the first time Malfoy acted strangely. He had been like that all year. First in Borgin and Burke's before term started and showing Borgin what Harry suspected as the Dark Mark. Then his hushed conversation with Snape, when the Professor offered Malfoy his help. Harry got no further in his quest for answers about what Malfoy was up to. It was also his subtle behaviours that changed. Malfoy no longer goaded Harry or threatened him with cursing or insulting Harry, any way he could to get under his skin. It was all very strange. Harry tapped the Map with his wand, said "Mischief Managed," and put the map away.

Harry tore across the Castle, stopping short of the second-floor girl's bathroom. Unfortunately, he hadn't thought to pack his Invisibility Cloak. Harry peered around the doorway. Malfoy was panting, muffled sobs to be heard. He was looking in the mirror, clutching the sink below him. His knuckles were white as he looked into his own teary blue eyes. He then bowed his head as another voice drifted through the room.

"Don't," Myrtle soothed. "Don't cry. You can tell me what's wrong."

"No," Malfoy choked out.

"I can help-"

"No one can help me!" Malfoy interrupted, turning on the spot to face the ghost. His hands were trembling. "I can't do it… It won't work. He'll kill me if I don't do it soon!" Tears were streaming down his face, to Harry's surprise. Malfoy's shoulders were shaking. He sniffled and looked beyond Myrtle, spotting Harry's figure at the door.

"You!" Malfoy fumed and pulled his wand from his cloak. Harry did the same. Malfoy fired a hex in Harry's direction, which flew mere inches from his face. The curse hit the wall lamp beside him, and it shattered. Harry dove away from the broken glass.

Harry sent a Stinging Jinx towards Malfoy, which grazed his left hand, causing him to cry out. He sent a Leg-Locker curse that again missed, smashing the cistern behind Malfoy. Water poured all over the floor. Myrtle was screaming for them to stop.

"No, STOP IT!" she shouted. "Don't fight!"

"Cruic-" Malfoy began, raising his wand.

"Sectumsempra!" Harry yelled. A white light shot from his wand. Malfoy's scream filled the air. Harry's blood froze in his veins. It was as if an invisible sword had slashed open Malfoy's face and chest. Blood spurted from the wounds, mixing in the water soaking the floor.

"No," Harry choked, staggering back a few steps. "I- I didn't mean to."

Myrtle was screaming again. "MURDER IN THE BATHROOM! MURDER!"

At that moment, Sam rushed into the room, stopping short when he saw what met him.

"Shit…" he mumbled. He ran forward, dropping to his knees.

"What happened?" Sam demanded.

"I didn't mean to… we were fighting and-" Harry was stuttering. As if the timing couldn't be worse, Snape rounded the corner and rushed inside. He pushed Harry out of the way, face livid. He knelt over Malfoy and drew his wand, murmuring the same words Madam Pomfrey had when Dean was stabbed, Sam noticed.

Snape traced his wand over the deep gashes Harry's curse had made. The wounds seemed to be knitting together again. Harry was frozen in shock. Sam was checking Malfoy's pulse and stood.

"I'll get Madam Pomfrey," Sam said. Snape looked to the fellow Professor for a brief moment and nodded. Sam sprinted from the room. Harry was left standing stock still, horrified. Snape lifted Malfoy into a pseudo-standing position.

"Hopefully Winchester has told Madam Pomfrey already. You need the hospital Wing. There may be some scarring but if you take dittany straight away you might avoid it. Come," Snape said as he carried Malfoy out of the room. "Potter, you wait for me."

Five minutes later, Sam returned.

"They have Malfoy in the Hospital Wing, he'll be fine," Sam told Harry, and he visibly relaxed.

"Harry, what happened?" Sam continued.

"We were fighting. He pulled his wand on me first. I didn't know what the spell did," Harry told Sam. Snape entered the room then, fixing Harry with a cold stare.

"I can take it from here Professor Winchester," Snape said coldly. "Apparently, I underestimated you, Potter," he said quietly. "Who would have thought you knew such Dark Magic? Who taught you that spell?"

"I read about it somewhere."

"Where?"

"It was a library book," Harry invented wildly. "I can't remember what it was called."

"Liar," Snape accused. "Bring me your school bag."

Harry raced from the room, his footsteps splashing in the water as he left. He took no notice of anyone as they took in his dishevelled appearance. He quickly managed to talk Ron into giving his copy of Advanced Potion Making to him. Then, he shoved his own into the Room of Requirement. A few minutes later, he was back in front of Snape, who held out his hand wordlessly for Harry's school bag. Harry handed it over, panting and waiting. One by one, Snape extracted Harry's books and examined them. Finally, the only book left was the Potions book, which he looked at very carefully before speaking.

"This is your copy of Advanced Potion-Making, is it, Potter?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"You're quite sure of that, are you, Potter?"

"Yes," said Harry, with a touch more defiance.

"This is the copy of Advanced Potion-Making that you purchased from Flourish and Blotts?"

"Yes," said Harry firmly.

"Then why," asked Snape, "does it have the name 'Roonil Wazlib' written inside the front cover?"

"That's my nickname," he lied quickly.

"Your nickname," repeated Snape.

"Yeah… that's what my friends call me," said Harry.

"I understand what a nickname is," said Snape. The cold, black eyes were boring once more into Harry's; he tried not to look into them. Close your mind… Close your mind… But he had never learned how to do it properly

"Do you know what I think, Potter?" said Snape, very quietly. "I think that you are a liar and a cheat and that you deserve detention with me every Saturday until the end of term. "What do you think, Potter?

"I — I don't agree, sir," said Harry, avoiding his gaze.

"Well, we shall see how you feel after your detentions," said Snape. "Ten o'clock Saturday morning, Potter. My office."

"But sir…" said Harry, looking up desperately. "Quidditch… the last match of the-"

"Ten o'clock," whispered Snape, with a smile that showed his yellow teeth. "Poor Gryffindor. Fourth place this year, I fear…"

That night, Harry walked into the Demonology classroom, pulling his Invisibility Cloak off of him. His mind was still whirling from what happened. Earlier, within fifteen minutes of the incident, he was dragged into a meeting with Professor McGonagall, telling him he was lucky not to be expelled, and to take Snape's punishment as mercy. News of Harry's attack on Malfoy spread around the school like wildfire. Pansy Parkinson had already been to see Malfoy, speaking loudly about the vicious attack on the poor Slytherin student. Hermione was of course horrified, insisting that the Half-Blood Prince's book was malicious, and he should hand it in to Professor McGonagall at once. Harry refused. After dinner, he had gone into the Demonology classroom and got permission to use the fireplace in their office. He needed to talk to Sirius. Harry dropped to his knees in front of the fireplace feeling like he was being sentenced to Azkaban. His shaking hands dove into the Floo Powder, and he spoke clearly, even though his voice was also trembling.

"Number 12, Grimmauld Place," he said and threw the powder into the fireplace. Instantly, a green flame ignited in the fireplace and began to lap upward. Harry stuck his face into the flame and was able to see the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. On second thought, it would have been a better idea to use the mirror Sirius once gave him, but it lay shattered in the bottom of his trunk. Who knew if it even still worked? Or if Sirius still had the other one after Mundungus raided the place?

"Sirius!" Harry called. He heard distant footsteps, and Sirius entered the room. His gaze surveyed the room, and he spotted his godson's head in the fire.

"Harry?" Sirius instantly approached and got to his knees to face Harry. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Sirius, I — I made a huge mistake."

"What's wrong?" Sirius asked.

"I attacked Malfoy," Harry blurted out.

Sirius's eyes widened. "You did what?" A small part of his mind wanted to congratulate Harry, but the teen seemed upset, so it must have been bad. "I'm sure it was in self-defence. Right?"

"Kind of," Harry replied. "I was watching him on the map"

"Again?"

"I know he was up to something, Sirius"

"Okay, okay. Go on."

"He was in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, and he was crying."

"You went in alone?"

"Yes, but that's not the point. He caught me and started firing hexes at me. We started duelling. I hit him with a spell I found… it was like he was stabbed, Sirius." Saying it out loud, again, made it ten times worse. "I could've… I could have murdered him."

"Calm down, pup. You didn't do it intentionally."

"Of course, I didn't. I had no idea what the spell did," Harry replied.

"Where did you learn a spell like that?" Sirius asked.

"It was written in my Potions book…" Harry admitted. "The person that owned it before me wrote a tonne of notes in it. This one said 'for enemies' I never thought-"

Sirius interrupted him. "Is the Malfoy boy alright now?"

"Snape came in. He healed Malfoy up. He's in the Hospital Wing now. Malfoy will be alright. Snape wanted to see my books. I'm not sure why." Harry knew he was rambling.

"Listen to me, pup. You need to get rid of that book. Now."

"I did. I hid the book and showed him Ron's instead. I was already in enough trouble. Professor McGonagall said I was lucky not to be expelled." Harry was still speaking in a rush.

"I know Harry… take a breath." Sirius wished he could be there in person to comfort his godson.

Harry nodded and did so, trying to stay calm.

"That's it." Sirius smiled nodding. "I'm sure Snape wanted you expelled."

"Probably," Harry frowned. "I have detention with him every Saturday until the end of term. I deserve it."

"Just keep your nose down until then. Don't let the blighter get under your skin."

"I won't," Harry nodded. "But he was saying something… before he saw me."

"What?" Sirius asked.

"He was talking to Moaning Myrtle. She was comforting him. He was saying that if he didn't do something, he would kill him."

"Who's he?" Sirius asked. It was at that moment that in the excitement and joy of having Sirius back, Harry realized that he had not told him of his suspicions of Malfoy.

"I talked with Mr Weasley and Lupin," Harry began. "A few months ago. They said I was nuts."

Harry recalled the brief interaction he had with the two older wizards. After the Order meeting in which the Winchesters explained their past to their newly resurrected father, Harry filled Mr Weasley and Lupin in on what he knew about Malfoy while John Winchester left to speak with Bobby Singer on the phone. They doubted Malfoy's alliance with Voldemort and rise to the rank of Death Eater.

"Harry," Sirius stopped him calmly. "From the beginning."

"Before term started," Harry took a breath and began again. "Ron, Hermione and I followed Malfoy down Knockturn Alley. He was talking to Borgin, and I think Malfoy showed him something on his arm. Borgin seemed scared. I think it could have been the Dark Mark…"

"You think Voldemort branded a sixteen-year-old?" Sirius asked.

"I don't know!" Harry replied, frustrated. "But that's not everything. A few months ago, he and Snape were talking. Snape was offering him his help. I didn't hear everything, but he said he'd promised his mother, made the Unbreakable Vow."

"I don't know Harry."

"If you don't believe-" Harry began

"I didn't say that," Sirius replied. "But we'll look into it, okay? Just be careful. Remember, head low."

Harry took a breath. "Okay."