I'm quite pleased that this story is provoking both love and hate from my readers. Without conflict there can be no growth. For all those harping on about how "You clearly have no experience of abuse" etc, blah, blah, there is clearly one thing you are missing in your presumption: Harry is no ordinary boy. He is simultaneously an eleven-year old boy, powerfully magically active, a host to 1/7th of the soul of Voldemort and a friend to snakes. For all those who have suffered abuse in your lives, I'm sincerely sorry, but your life is not Harry's and your problems are not his.

It has been a VERY long time since I updated for which I apologise. I've been suffering with phenomenal writers-block and a stressful worklife and they've both taken their toll on my creativity. To those who have stuck with me, all I can say is: Your patience and perseverance is appreciated. Thank you.

There is a disclaimer on all previous chapters and I do not recommend you reading this or any subsequent chapters before the earlier ones.

TTTTTTTTTTT

Chapter 27: Looking Forward to Punishment.

Hagrid wasn't at breakfast the following day, nor lunch or dinner. Harry spent most of the day practicing spells with Dean, Fay, Hermione and Parvatti next to the lake until they were driven inside by a cold rain.

At breakfast on Monday morning, Harry received notification that his detention would be served with Madame Hooch for the three hours preceding the Halloween feast, which was to start at six pm. Thanks to the feast, they would only have three classes that day, with Charms after lunch followed by a free period. The fact that they were mercifully dodging Snape's late afternoon of potions was almost enough to make Harry dance along the corridors on the way to their Defence Against the Dark Arts class.

Quirrell seemed even more distracted than normal that morning, fidgeting and only managing to complete a handful of sentences without stumbling over the words. He was so clearly flustered that he repeatedly lost track of where he was in the class and at one point was scared so badly by a shadow that he had to sit for five minutes with his head between his knees.

It was during the final minutes of the lesson, when Quirrell was summarising what the class should have learned on the blackboard that Harry felt the stabbing pain lance through his scar again. He managed to bite his tongue which caught the scream that was rising in his throat. The world receded around him until all he could see, hear and feel was the back of Quirrell's head and the way his own fingers were digging into the wooden desk in front of him.

…do it, it is imperative! A high voice, full of fury screeched in Harry's head.

Then a voice that was unmistakably Quirrell's replied, But my lord, there is the risk to the children, I cannot endanger them.

You fool, do you really think that those pathetic creatures actually matter? The high voice sneered, When I have the stone and am returned to my full power then all the world shall know peace. Then you shall be rewarded.

And you swear that I will be free?

Are you not happy with the service that you are rendering me, Quirinius? Does my presence here so fill you with revulsion that you would rather be without me, is that it?

The Quirrell-voice seemed to shrink in on itself in terror. No my lord, no, never. I am proud and happy to serve you.

You had better be; you wouldn't want me leaving you before the proper time now, would you?

Harry felt a distant pain in his left middle finger as the nail broke against the desk and the Quirrel-voice screamed out in agony. At the same time, the Quirrell that was standing in the classroom seemed to convulse and almost fall to the ground as a violent shudder tore through him.

P-p-please m-master no, no more, I beg of you! The Quirrell voice cried out as his body leant against the blackboard.

Then know your place and do as I tell you! The other voice said. Make sure that it is in place before the start of the meal.

It will be done, master, I-I-I s-swear. Quirrell said, turning around and straightening. He was visibly sweating.

As soon as he had turned, the voice had vanished and Harry came back to himself, suddenly aware that Dean was shaking him.

'Harry, Harry, why did you do that?' He said, concerned.

'What?...' he replied a moment before the pain in his finger started to burn in earnest. There was a small pool of blood on the table and his fingernail was snapped right back and peeled away from its bed.

'Professor, Harry's hurt his hand.' Dean said, standing and waving at Quirrell whose face was waxy.

'W-what?' Quirrell asked, his eyes focussing on the class again.

'It's Harry, sir. He's hurt his hand and needs to go to the hospital wing.'

'No, it's okay, I'm fine.' Harry said, mopping up the blood with a tissue that was nowhere near large enough for the job.

Quirrell walked over to them breathing heavily and held out his hand. 'Let me s-s-see, Potter.'

'It's nothing.' Harry said but relented under the stern look on Quirrell's face and held out the wounded finger.

Quirrell reached out and gently touched the tip of Harry's finger.

The reaction was instantaneous. Quirrell released a bark of pain and jumped back, shaking his hand which Harry was certain was smoking slightly.

Cradling his injured appendage, Quirrell looked at Harry with an expression of mingled fear, shock and anger. 'Go Potter, the hospital wing. Now. You, Thomas, go with him.'

Harry, eager to get away and more than a little confused, grabbed his bag with his free hand and led Dean from the room without another word to Quirrell. He caught the eye of Faye and Ron before the door closed and saw looks of concern.

TTTTTTTTTTTT

Harry decided to use the opportunity to test out a minor healing spell instead of heading to the hospital wing. It took three tries and Dean holding on to his injured finger before the nail was successfully reattached and pain-free.

'That's really good mate, who taught you that?' Dean asked, admiring the smooth and unbroken skin.

Harry shrugged. 'I just looked a few spells up after the flying thing with Hermione the other day. I've been waiting to give them a try.'

They continued along the corridor and Harry fell to brooding about what he had heard in Quirrell's head. In a moment of enlightenment, he realised that it wasn't the first time he'd heard another person's thoughts. The memory of Aunt Petunia's nervous misery returned to him. This was something that he needed to investigate.

'Tell you what, Dean,' he said, 'I'm going to head on up to the library, just to get this checked out. You go back to Quirrell, okay?'

'You sure? I don't mind missing that idiot.'

'Yeah, I'll be fine.'

Dean turned back down the corridor and took three steps before looking back at Harry, one eyebrow raised. 'Did you hear how he didn't stutter at all after you gave him that electric shock?'

Harry blinked. Quirrell's stammer had disappeared. 'No, I didn't notice. Maybe it was just the shock.'

Dean gave him a searching look before shrugging and carrying on down the corridor.

Harry waited until Dean was out of sight before doubling back and heading to the library.

TTTTTTTTTTTT

He emerged with five minutes to spare before lunch carrying three books on a rare branch of magic called Legilimency which, according to Madame Pince, was the art of reading minds and its sister; Occlumency which was the art of defending the mind from attackers. He ran up to Gryffindor tower and deposited them on his bed before heading down to the great hall.

'You're a lucky git, you know that?' Ron said when they were eating dinner.

Harry nodded, 'I know.' His detention was to be spent giving the school brooms their annual service to ensure they were in the best possible condition and most of all; safe. But what he had heard while in the class with Quirrell still worried him. Was "the dog" that he had mentioned the Cerberus in the third floor corridor?

Everything was going well: Nidhogg had what he wanted, Harry's detention couldn't really have turned out any better and the clubhouse was as secure a place as anyone could ever ask for. The only thing that dampened Harry's spirits was that he missed Nidhogg's small warm body next to him at night. That and a small niggling fear that he might be losing his mind and imagining he could hear other's thoughts.

After lunch, they went to Charms with tiny Professor Flitwick who was shorter than even Lavender Brown. Flitwick was Harry's second favourite teacher after Professor McGonagall and his lessons were always enjoyable, if difficult.

They spent the lesson practicing the wingardium leviosa spell on feathers. Harry was paired with Seamus who, due to his lazy pronunciation and half-hearted wandwork, kept setting fire to the feathers. Harry managed the spell after a few attempts, but was amazed by Hermione Granger who managed it on her first try. She was paired with Ron Weasley who kept making cruel and ignorant remarks about the spell and Hermione herself.

'You're just trying to be Flitwick's pet, just like everyone else's.' Ron said near the end of the class.

Hermione had spent the whole class weathering Weasley's remarks and looked to be on the verge of tears. Harry leant over toward them and stared at Ron. 'Why don't you shut up?'

Both Ron and Hermione looked back wide-eyed.

'What?' Ron asked, his mouth sagging open.

'I said, why don't you shut up? All you've done this lesson is act like a prat to her,' Harry said, gesturing to Hermione who had the barest hint of a smile on her lips, 'when all she's tried to do is help you.'

Ron's face flushed a violent shade of red that ran all the way to the tips of his ears.

Without waiting for a reply, Harry returned to his seat, cleared his throat and made his feather soar into the air.

TTTTTTTTTTTT

After the class, Harry went with Faye, Hermione and Dean down to the grounds to kill an hour before the start of his detention.

To their pleasant surprise, they found the NEWT Defence Against the Dark Arts students duelling and practicing spells under the watchful eye of Professors McGonagall and, to Harry's amazement; Dumbledore.

One interesting difference Harry noticed between most of the duellers and the rest of the older students and teachers at Hogwarts was how thin they were. Most of the inhabitants of Hogwarts were at best well-fed and worst massively fat; a symptom of having every chose and duty taken care of by either magic or the elusive house elves. The duellers were all fit and in great condition, dancing and moving with a frenetic energy as their spells whirled through the air blasting, screaming and screaming to create more effects than Harry had imagined. One blue-haired boy with a diamond stud in his left ear transfigured his opponent's wand into a snake that bit and poisoned its owner. A Japanese girl created a bubble around herself that deflected every spell that six attackers could throw at her until a huge, broad chested boy with a goatee threw a bolt of arcing electricity so intense that it shattered the bubble and blasted the girl off her feet.

Tonks was there too, she seemed to prefer spells that improved her own ability. One made her move at triple speed, allowing her to literally run circles around her opponent before striking him down with a jinx that appeared to de-bone his legs and a curse that sealed his lips shut.

When their faces were all varnished by sweat and many nursing many injuries, the teachers gave them a ten minute break.

'Wotcher Harry?' Tonks said, limping over to them, the after-effects of a blasting spell paining her.

'That was amazing.' Dean said, grinning.

'Cheers, remind me to show it to you some time.'

'How about now?' Harry asked, grinning.

Tonks shook her head. 'I doubt Dumbledore would appreciate me showing you NEWT-level magic, Harry.'

Harry looked over at the headmaster who was talking animatedly and demonstrating proper wand technique to a small group of students.

Tonks scratched her sunflower yellow hair. 'Tell you what, the school will be pretty empty on Saturday, it's a Hogsmeade weekend y'see and I don't fancy going. I'll show you a few things then, okay?'

The four young lions agreed vigorously and wished Tonks luck as she returned to the group of duellers. McGonagall had taken out her wand and was demonstrating a spell which created a beam of scarlet light and made Tonks' wand jump out of her hand.

A voice behind Harry made the whole group jump. 'Good afternoon.'

They all turned around and looked up into the twinkling eyes of Dumbledore.

'I think it's about time you were on your way to your detention with Madame Hooch isn't it, Harry?' he said with a small smile on his lips.

Harry nodded sheepishly. 'Probably sir, I just got a bit caught up.'

'I can understand how you would; NEWT-level defensive magic is some of the most impressive that you can learn at Hogwarts, though if I do say so myself, it does pale in comparison to Transfiguration, which is my own favourite subject. Now off you go, you don't want to be late for the feast later, do you?'

Harry smiled and took off in the direction of the quidditch pitch, waving farewell to the others. His heart was soaring in anticipation of three whole hours with one of the greatest quidditch instructors in the country.

TTTTTTTTTTTT

Read and review please, don't pull any punches.

CONSTRUCTIVE FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS WELCOME