Chapter 11: Hurt, accidental and unintentional

Albus Dumbledore was sitting in a shady pub, opposite a shifty looking and even worse smelling wizard. He was an unsavoury character with whom dealing the old headmaster did not particularly enjoy, but for some of the more clandestine operations people with a better reputation, smoking habits and personal hygiene were just not suitable.

"Did some snoopin' 'round the neighbourhood," Mundungus Fletcher informed him in a low voice. "Old Figgi was right, boy's gone, and from what I could tell, so are the wards. Do you really want him back there?" he asked incredulously.

"Oh yes, I don't see another way, sadly," Albus answered. He knew it would not be easy for Harry when he had been left on the Dursleys' doorstep so many years ago, Mrs. Figg's reports certainly indicated towards the same, or rather even worse than Albus had ever thought. However, it was just not possible, for them to be treating Harry the way some of the neighbours implied and just like the wizard in front of him the Dursleys needed a second chance. With just a little prodding into the right direction, maybe they would be a right cheerful family. There was nothing as important as family, after all, as Albus himself had learned so painstakingly.

"And you are certain the wards are down?" he asked his, for lack of a better word, lackey. Said lackey only grunted and then nodded, as if to say, "get a specialist if you want to know for sure."

"Far as I could tell," he answered instead. That was worrying indeed, because the only way they could have fallen about seven years early, was if Harry had found another place to call home, somewhere away from the blood which could afford him the protection he needed in the future. Because Voldemort would be back, there was no doubt about it and he would go for Harry again, if only to try and prove his absolute superiority over the 'Boy-Who-Lived'. That was not even counting in the part of the prophecy he had been told by Severus in his misguided servitude.

Soon, it would be time for the young, muggle-raised orphan to attend Hogwarts. In fact, the letter was probably already on the way, if the talk the old headmaster had with his rather put out deputy that morning was any indication. She had always disliked the chore of making and sending all the letters. Although, she had seemed just a little more annoyed than what was usual, Albus did not take particular notice of it even if she outright rejected telling him where the letter for young Harry was being sent.

Returning to the matter at hand, "What to do about Harry Potter?" he asked himself. The answer was rather simple, though the realisation of this answer was going to be more complex. How to get Harry back to the Dursleys, with him willing to do so and them again accepting him into their fold? Why did everything have to be so complicated?

He would just have to manage. For the Greater Good.

The headmaster was pacing around his office, still a little befuddled as to the happenings of the evening. He had known about Harry's stay with the Greengrass family, one of his contacts in the Ministry had slipped him the information as soon as Harry was seen there together with Xander Greengrass, but he had assumed it was more out of convenience for the lazy bureaucracy that was the Ministry of Magic. After all, Aurors were thoroughly vetted for any disturbing personal ties, and the MCPS was horribly understaffed and –funded, probably just hoping to unload the boy as soon as possible. As long as he could not be used for political gain, Harry was of little interest to the powers that be.

The Greengrasses were just there at the moment, at least that was, what he assumed. However, the way with which he conducted himself around the oldest Greengrass daughter and vice versa severely crippled that assumption. It also made the idea of getting Harry to consent to going back to his family somewhat impossible. Forcing him back would not work and from what he had been told, he would not go willingly, if the information about the reason for his removal from Privet Drive were to be believed.

Albus had an idea that his deputy knew more than she let on, but she did not seem inclined to share any information. During their usual little talks enjoyed over a nice cup of tea, she now seemed more distant and reserved. When the conversation came towards Harry, she would be downright cold.

However, the surprises did not end there. No, the boy had managed to get himself sorted into Slytherin, shocking not only Albus, but the entire school. Not to mention, probably the entire wizarding world as soon as word got out.

"Skeeter's gossip column will be very interesting to read, tomorrow," he thought with a small, inward chuckle. But, this did nothing to quell the unease growing inside Albus' mind. He was sure Harry was safe for the moment, however when, not if, Voldemort came back, he would be in serious danger living in Slytherin with the children of former 'imperius victims'. Every last one of them was redeemable, of course, but a momentary lapse in judgement would be all that was needed for Harry to receive lasting harm.

Steps would have to be taken to protect him from his house-mates. If possible, without Harry's knowledge, to save the little rest of a childhood the boy had left.

Things were getting dangerous for Harry sooner than Albus expected. Just a week into classes, he had been warned by Severus about Quirrell's more than questionable allegiance. Considering the Philosopher's Stone was currently being kept safe inside the hallowed halls of Hogwarts, some of the safeguards still having to be erected actually, this development was very worrying.

The mirror he had requisitioned would be enough to keep any of Voldemort's followers away, he was sure of that. Until then, the other defences would just have to hold, although he had no illusions of being able to keep Voldemort, or rather Quirrell as his servant, away forever.

Behind him, Fawkes trilled sadly and a wave of pictures and emotions, the way in which a phoenix communicated with its human, filled his mind. They all seemed to be calling him a hypocrite.

"You know these safeguards could be cracked by a first year, and you want it to be Potter," they accused him. Maybe his familiar was right, the old headmaster admitted to himself sadly, as he was torn between the need to let Harry have as normal a childhood as possible and the necessity of preparing him for what was to come. He turned towards his familiar, who looked back at him with sad, dark eyes.

"For the Greater Good," he said not sure if to the phoenix or himself.

It was Friday, the day after the incident during their first flying lesson, and Harry and his Slytherin friends were late for Transfiguration. They had been held back to help clear up the mess a Gryffindor by the name of Dean Thomas had made during class. It turned out to be quite an amount of work, as the concrete-like substance that had formed in the cauldron and around the work-station stubbornly refused to be vanished magically. They had to use hammer and chisel to get the table free of it and threw the cauldron away.

Snape had given them no pass for McGonagall, meaning they had even more incentive to be on time. You did not want to be late in McGonagall's class.

"Do you think… pant, McGonagall will…wheeze…wait for us?" Harry asked the others in between haggard breaths from running. They reached one of the moving staircases, affording them the necessary time to take a breath.

"I hope so; I really want to see her transform," Daphne answered with a slightly forlorn look to her face. Earlier in the week, to end the incessant begging by some of the students, she had announced she would show her animagus transformation at the beginning of their Friday class.

Suddenly, the stairs stopped their movement in front of a door. Harry went for it and tried to push it open, but it was locked. He was pushed aside by Daphne with a 'let-me-try' look as she walked towards the door.

"Alohomora," she intoned with a slight flick of her wand and ran through the door followed by Harry, Tracey and Cennydd.

They were stopped in their paces by the sight that presented itself unto them: a giant, three-headed dog sat there, slobber dropping from its three imposingly teethy muzzles. That was without counting the immense stench surrounding the frightening animal. Already turning around again, Harry realised what exactly the dog was standing on. It was not the floor, that much was clear, considering it was wood. However, he did not take more time to ponder his observation, as they all decided to rather leg it than stay. Still panting, the group reached the Transfiguration corridor.

"I guess we know now, why that corridor is currently off limits," a surprisingly composed Cennydd observed, making all of them understand what they had just seen. It was the forbidden third floor corridor.

It was later on the same day and the group was pouring over the 'compensatory essays' assigned by Professor McGonagall for their lateness.

"At least Astronomy got cancelled," Tracey tried lifting everybody's mood by reminding them of Professor Sinistra's illness and the subsequent cancellation of both their theoretical and practical astronomy class.

"It still remains an awfully long essay on the legal situation surrounding animagi," Daphne reminded them. She glared at Tracey and added, "And you asking her, whether we could see her transformation later, certainly did not help. 'If you're so interested in the animagus transformation, maybe your essay ought to be longer', or need I remind you?"

"Yeah, sorry. I didn't really think that one through, did I?" An apologetically smiling Tracey admitted, looking at Cennydd, Daphne and Harry. Being remembered of her almost doubling the length of their essay, they only shot her angry stares in return. Harry had to concede to Daphne's point, although he really wanted to see that transformation too. Not that he would ever ask in such a situation, he was way too intimidated by the stern transfiguration mistress to do something that stupid.

"What the hell kind of Slytherin are you, anyway? Aren't we supposed to be, like, very cunning?" His thoughts were interrupted by Cennydd, wearing a slight smirk that told Harry his quip was well-meaning. Unfortunately, only someone who knew him a little better would notice. Harry had been spending way more time with the boy than either Tracey or Daphne; he was concerned it might be taken the wrong way.

He was right at that.

"I thought we were friends…" A now slightly teary, maybe a little sobbing Tracey looked at Cennydd, hurt in her eyes, stood up, and stormed to her dorm. Daphne shot Harry a look that seemed to be saying 'deal with him' and followed her friend and roommate.

"What?" Cennydd managed to utter, his face filled with surprise and consternation.

"Not everyone gets your jokes, you gotta be more careful. She doesn't have an easy time being here, she really misses her family, mate," Harry told the boy, whose facial expression quickly changed from befuddled to sad and guilty.

"But… I just wanted to lighten the mood a little," he mumbled in a small voice rather uncharacteristic for the boy after he had found his new friends at Hogwarts.

"I know that. But neither does Daphne nor Tracey. We're roommates, so I know you a little better than they do," Harry told the ashamed boy in a consoling voice. "Also, I've had to learn to read people early on," he completed the thought inside his head.

Harry watched Cennydd turn towards Morrigan, one of the prefects and waved her over.

"Hey, could you do me a favour?" He asked the older student, still with a small, sad voice. "Could you go into the girls' dorms and get Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davies out? I… well, I made a joke, but it was not perceived as such. I've rather upset her, and want to apologize. But we're not allowed into the girls' dorms…" He trailed off, looking at the fifth year hopefully.

"It's good you want to make it right," she answered with a smile, nodded and went towards the door to the girls' dorms. A few minutes later, although it felt longer to Harry, and visibly even longer to Cennydd, the two girls, followed by Morrigan came back into the common room. Tracey was still a little teary-eyed, but looked much less unhappy than when she had run out of the door before. Daphne on the other hand, shot Cennydd a glare and Harry a smile.

"Tracey, I'm really sorry; I really did not mean to hurt you. It was well meaning, honestly. I only wanted to raise everyone's spirits after that much extra-work, I know I need to make it clearer when I joke, but people don't seem to get it…" he explained almost breathlessly, only interrupted by Tracey who now flung her arms around her new friend. Harry could see the boy tense up, but not in the way he would. In his eyes, Harry could not see the panic he had felt during instances of being suddenly hugged just surprise and inability to comprehend the situation. She released Cennydd, whose face now showed the same surprise as his eyes, explaining to Tracey why he did not reciprocate.

Trying to move past the awkward moment, Harry cleared his throat. Suddenly all eyes on him, he proposed, "Why don't we put this stuff away? Maybe Hermione can help us, tomorrow. You know she would even find it interesting." He chuckled, the whole group following with a slight snigger.

"Let's talk about the elephant in the room," Daphne submitted, forming a grin. "Or rather, the giant, three-headed dog. I mean, what the hell do they think putting it inside a school? A giant, three-headed dog directly behind a damn door at the staircase," she finished, now with considerable anger in her voice.

"I think it is there for a reason," Harry suggested to astonished gasps from Tracey and Daphne. Cennydd though nodded in accordance.

"It was a trapdoor," he added. Noting the questioning glances, he continued, "The dog was standing on a trapdoor, I think the reason it's here is to guard something. I mean, what do you get when you want something guarded? A dog, right?"

"Still, it sounds like a bad idea to have a monster like that in the school," Daphne piped up outraged. She looked at the others provokingly, though no one actually seemed interested to disagree with her. Harry could not contradict that either, but he was also very interested in what this dog was guarding.

"Maybe if something interesting or dangerous happens, we could investigate what this is about?" Harry suggested to nods from the whole group. "But who could we ask about the dog? Somehow, I don't think we're allowed to know about that thing."

"The professor for magical creatures would be the obvious choice. Who is he?" Tracey suggested with her voice still a little nasal from crying.

"No, Kettleburn is supposed to be really suspicious about pretty much everything. At least, that's what my parents told me. How about Hagrid? He's really nice, I think, and to be honest, rather gullible," Daphne proposed.

"Ok, we'll do that when something suspicious happens," Harry, backed by the whole group's nodding, decided.

The next few weeks went by with little going on. Harry and Daphne were as close as ever, both terribly relieved they had each other and their new friends, both inside Slytherin and in the other houses. Classes continued to be demanding, but at least they were getting more practical. Of course, Snape was still being the "overgrown bat" the older students the older students called him, and McGonagall was still the hard taskmaster Harry had always expected her to be. However, even the hours spent brewing in the dungeons classroom were becoming almost fun for them, even though Daphne kept swearing she would never in her life like potions class. The same went for pretty much everyone, except Hermione, of course, in Transfiguration. To his astonishment, he still disliked Defence against the Dark Arts. He just kept having a weird feeling around Professor Quirrell.

Time flew by, and soon it was the week before the 31st of October, a day Harry had been dreading ever since he had learned more about his parents, especially their deaths.

Harry and Daphne were currently occupying the very first workstation in front of the teacher's table in the potions classroom. Harry, who had been increasingly bored by the annoyingly boring subject matter in this particular class, was heavily multitasking: Firstly, his own cauldron, filled with a rather simple fever-lowering concoction, was quietly simmering away and in the last minutes it required to be finally done. Secondly, he was helping Daphne with her more interesting approach to the potion, which had managed to assume not the mild blued colour it was supposed to, but more of an angry red.

"I think you mixed up the direction at the last time you stirred," Harry thought out loud, to a rather annoyed and surprisingly sad looking Daphne. "I think we can repair it. At the moment, it will raise a fever, rather than lowering it. If we add more of the White Willow Bark, say double, it should be alright."

"How do you know that?" His bemused best friend whispered fervently, looking at him in astonishment.

Harry leaned in, looked around conspiratorially, and turned to her with a mysterious expression and started to whisper.

"It says so in my book," he filled her in, showing her the page of his potions textbook, where Daphne's exact mistake was listed as a frequently made error, along with how to deal with it.

"You prat! Why didn't you tell me?" She grumbled with a mock scowl Harry could easily see through.

"Makes you wonder why Snape doesn't tell us to open the books, if stuff like that is explained in there," she muttered, now following the instructions from the book rather than those from the blackboard. Harry started thinking about the same question, but was unable to come to any meaningful conclusion, so he just shrugged and went back to his third project.

Now that was something he was actually excited about. During a short visit to the Hospital Wing after a mishap in flying class two days before, for which he was duly scolded by Daphne, who somehow considered it Harry's fault, he had gotten interested in all the potions that were involved in healing. He'd gotten to talk with the matron, Madam Pomfrey, and she had told him all about the different remedies she could in the short time. When he mentioned he was bored in potions, she had immediately come up with a remedy. From now on, he was making potions for her use.

The first batch, which he was now working on, was Pepperup Potion, a funny little concoction that was administered for any number of ailments, most often the common cold.

"I'm sure we'll need it, winter is coming. Well, after autumn that is," the friendly nurse had explained her demand. She had actually managed to wiggle a few extra credits out of Snape for the work Harry was doing, along with some house points. The latter she had been able to do rather easily, the former was a little harder.

"Are you going to try out your idea?" Daphne shook him from his thoughts, contentedly looking at her now deep blue potion. "The thing with less bicorn horn but more simmering time? I for one wouldn't mind reducing the time I have steam coming out my ears after taking Pepperup."

"I will make two batches," Harry started to explain, only to be interrupted by Snape's oily voice calling the class to order again.

"Five minutes left, bottle up your samples and clean up," he ordered them, gazing around the room scathingly, until his eyes caught on the work station Ron Weasley and Lavender Brown were using.

"Weasley, you will stay behind. Your potion is so dismal I can't even give you a zero. You will redo it," he sneered, generating a rather horrified look on the redhead's face. "Since, being the dunderhead you are, you will need help. Ask Potter, he should be competent enough to prevent you from blowing us all up. I have no interest in spending my free period on such a hopeless case as you are. Mr. Potter will continue with his current work, too. He is excused from his next class."

"But, I have a free period too, I don't want…" The annoyed Weasley piped up, suddenly going silent at the look on Snape's face.

"That's enough, Mr. Weasley," Snape silenced him menacingly. "Five points from Gryffindor. If you mess this potion up again, it will be more."

With that, the potions professor left the classroom, black cloak billowing behind him. The only students left behind were Harry, Daphne and the Ron. Daphne threw a questioning glance first at Harry, then at Ron and then back at her best friend. She could feel his uneasiness at being alone with and helping the boy who had treated her family so badly. She gave him an encouraging smile, shrugged like "I don't care, so he was an arse before" and left the room, too.

Harry returned to his project that was still simmering on the fire, turned down the heat and stirred.

"Seven times clockwise, two times counter-clockwise. Seven times clockwise, two times counter-clockwise…" He repeated on his head over and over again, for the full minute he had to stir the now brilliantly green potion. Setting the cauldron to simmer, he started to clean out his own, much smaller cauldron, in which he would make the experimental version of Pepperup that he hoped led to less side-effects. Or rather, one side-effect: steam coming out of one's ears was certainly not pleasant, but if his idea worked, it would reduce the time of said side-effect to only a few minutes, not several hours.

Waiting for his potion to continue seasoning, he turned to look at his still grumbling classmate.

"You want any help?" He asked, unsure if he really wanted to help the unfriendly, prejudiced boy.

"Why would you help me, you're a Slytherin?" Ron asked, face wary and his voice disconcertingly toxic.

"There it is, the prejudice," Harry thought and continued out loud," Why wouldn't I? We're classmates, shouldn't we help each other?"

"But you're a Slytherin," the answer was given with so much abandon and belief that Harry almost pitied the boy for his short-sightedness. Almost.

"And why the hell would that matter?" Harry shot back, his temper starting to rise.

"Because you're in Slytherin. Everyone knows there are only evil wizards in Slytherin," Ron glared back.

"At one time, everyone 'knew' magic was evil and witches were burnt at the stake. So, let me ask you again, why the hell should me being in Slytherin matter?" Harry asked, seriously angry, which showed in his voice.

"Because I thought we could be friends. I thought that I could rescue you from that evil family and from that Greengrass girl and we could both be in Gryffindor together," the youngest Weasley boy shouted angrily at Harry, his face flushed.

"Be careful what you're saying, Weasley! That's my best friend and her family you're talking about." Harry replied in cold anger. "Now, I'll ask you one more time, do you want any help with that potion of yours? Otherwise, I'm going to return to my project."

Without receiving an answer, Harry returned to his workstation and ladled a little of the potion into his small pewter cauldron to try out his new recipe.

It was the morning of Halloween, or All Hallows Eve, as the first years had learned the day before in an uncharacteristically interesting History of Magic lesson. Contrary to what seemed like the whole rest of the school, Daphne was in a bad mood. She knew Harry dreaded this day, the tenth anniversary of his parents' death, which meant she dreaded it as well. Her best friend had grown increasingly quiet over the last few days and his mood had been continually worsening. Now, he was sitting next to her at the breakfast table only picking at his food from time to time.

"Harry, would you talk to me?" She asked in a soft voice, careful not to touch him, because he had not taken lightly to that for a few days, either, always tensing up at the slightest contact. He looked up at her, his eyes haunted and sad, framed by huge rings.

"What?" He said in a croaky voice, looking at her forlornly.

"Can I help you somehow? I can't bear seeing you like that," she almost begged him. She could almost feel his pain physically by just looking at him. Not to mention their strange emotional connection.

"I don't think I want to go to a feast tonight. Would…" He paused, looking at her with his green eyes dulled by sadness. "Would you stay with me in the common room? I don't want to be alone today."

"But the Halloween feast is supposed…" His stricken look stopped her. No question, her best friend needed her, so she would be there for him. "Of course," she corrected herself, leaned over to him and slung an arm around him in a hug she held until his tense muscles relaxed a little.

By lunchtime, not much had changed, only Harry had started to brood even worse. In an effort to shake him from his depressed state, Daphne started suggesting various things. At some point, she even proposed studying for potions, it got that bad. Alas, Harry did not want to.

"Fine, I give up," she finally declared. "At least, let us get some homework done while we can. That essay McGonagall gave us will take hours."

"Maybe Hermione can give us some pointers," Harry put forward, gazing over to the Ravenclaw table. After they both failed to find her sitting with her house-mates, they got worried and started asking around.

"Well, after charms, Weasley said some very rude things about her being a 'bossy know-it-all' and how she could only make friends with," Lisa Turpin threw Harry a wary glance before she quietly continued, "evil snakes. I think she's crying in a loo in the dungeons now." With a guilty look, the small first year Ravenclaw added, "I tried to get her to come out, but I couldn't get her to."

Daphne locked eyes with Harry and immediately knew what he had planned. Together, the two friends hurried towards the girls' lavatory in the dungeons. At the door, Harry stood stiff.

"What is it?" Daphne asked, a guess already in her head.

"This is a girls' loo; I can't go in there!" He answered, looking outraged at the mere suggestion of crossing that particular door.

"Really, Harry! Sometimes you're too noble for everyone's good," she commented, before grabbing his robes and dragging him through the door. Inside the room, they could hear someone cry softly from the last stall, furthest away from the entrance. They silently made for that stall and Daphne hesitantly knocked.

"Leave me alone," the weepy voice of Hermione Granger could be heard coming from inside the stall.

"No, we won't. We're worried about you," Daphne answered in a steady voice. Hearing her friend like this broke her heart.

"Just go away! Wouldn't want your bossy know-it-all of a friend to spoil the feast for you," Hermione now almost screamed at them, her voice dripping with intense hurt.

"Hermione, about the feast…" Daphne started only to be interrupted by Harry.

"Hermione, I don't think this feast could be anymore ruined for me, to be honest. Remember what day it is," he said glumly, but it seemed to get Hermione out of her crying stupor. Instead, the door of the stall flew open and an astonishingly fast witch shot out into Harry's arms.

"Of course, Harry. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to be so insensitive, it must be a hard day for you," she now cried into his shoulder. He threw Daphne a helpless glance over Hermione's shoulder after releasing the tension from his body. As fun as Daphne thought it would be to let Harry squirm a little in his discomfort around the crying girl, she decided to set them both free.

"We know, Hermione. That kind of talk is sure to get to you," she assured her friend after gently removing her from Harry's arms. Or rather, removing Harry from her, with how hard she was clinging to him.

"We were not really planning to go to the feast, considering the day. You wanna join us in not going?" Harry proposed, and a still teary eyed Hermione nodded in return.

AN: Thanks to my great beta, haphne24.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter; if so please leave a review. If you didn't leave one anyway and tell me what can be better. I'd be especially interested, if I am getting into bashy territory with Ron, because that's certainly not what I want.

Enjoy your weekend,

alexandertheII