CHAPTER 15
SLYTHERINS AND SUCH

The halls were mostly empty. The bell had signaled the start of classes three minutes ago and most of Hogwarts's students were in their respective classrooms ready to learn...or ready to pass notes and daydream. Something.

That was why the card-playing men in a giant hall painting all looked up at the sound of racing footsteps. The men hollered drunkenly as Ron and Harry flew by. Ron flipped his fingers up at them as he passed.

Professor Trelawney had kept Harry after Divination to further discuss his impending doom. Ron, like a good friend, had waited in the doorway to make faces behind their batty professor's back. He'd desperately wanted to kill her, of course, but miming dying of boredom made the corners of Harry's mouth turn up when lately Trelawney's morbid talk often made both their faces lose a lot of color.

But now they were late for Potions. Harry breathlessly apologized every few steps, but Ron brushed it off. It was worth it. Still, Snape didn't take tardiness lightly and they'd be stuck with detention, for sure. How many nights depended on how sexually frustrated Snape was feeling that day...at least, that was Ron's theory about Snape's mood swings.

Nearly there, they rounded a corner and Ron nearly slammed into Harry, who had halted without warning. He followed Harry's gaze to a first or second year girl with a split book bag. She knelt by it, sniffling, trying to gather her books into her arms, but there were too many and that last one kept making the whole pile explode from her grasp. She was a Slytherin, though. Ron indicated this to Harry by pointing at his own tie and motioning for him to keep moving. The later they were, the worse the detention.

"Ron, she needs help," Harry said quietly. "Don't you remember being a first year? If Prefects and the older students didn't help us out we would never have made it."

"Name one time a Slytherin Prefect helped us out. They don't help us and we don't make ourselves late for detention helping them. It's a general rule, Harry."

But there Harry went, anyway, hurrying toward the girl.

The girl eyed him with mistrust, but Harry picked up her bag and mended it with a spell Ron had actually taught him to mend clothes. Wearing hand-me-downs meant it was one of the earliest spells Ron had picked up from his mother. Harry's clothes needed patching up even more than his own, which Ron could never quite get used to. He'd gotten on the Hogwarts Express at eleven, the abnormally serious talk from the twins still fresh in his mind: he would probably be the only one in his class with second-hand everything, and that with Ron's belongings having passed through so many brothers and being in even worse shape than when they'd had them, it would stand out. They told him to act proud whatever people said. They told him that if he acted like his stuff was as new as theirs, people wouldn't notice as much. Then they twirled their wands menacingly and said if anyone gave him a hard time about it, to talk to them.

Then, when Ron had easily fixed the tear in Harry's pajama shirt that first night with the mending charm, Harry had heaped on the praise with wide-eyed sincerity. In that moment, Ron ceased being embarrassed that he was the only first year with expertise in that spell.

Still, now was not the time to be using it to help first year Slytherins when he and Harry were going to get strung up in the dungeons by their thumbs if they were any later. "Oy, Harry. Going on five minutes. I don't want to be disemboweled today."

But Harry was helping shove books into the girl's bag. "What class you got?"

The girl looked up at him warily. "What?"

"You're late, yeah? Where you going?" Harry repeated, holding the bag out to her by its strap.

She snatched her bag from it and hugged it to her chest as if Harry was going to steal it after all that. "Transfiguration."

Harry nodded and pointed down the hall.

"Aw, come on, Harry, not the passage," Ron groaned. He wasn't exactly keen on running into Draco Malfoy on a late night run to the kitchens.

Harry ignored him. "Alright. End of the corridor on your right, there's a secret passage under the big tapestry. Go up when you reach the staircase, not down; it'll drop you off 'round the corner from the classroom."

The girl eyed Harry's red and gold tie skeptically. "If you're lying, I'll tell Draco Malfoy on you."

"Ooh, he's real scared," Ron retorted and Harry shot him a look.

"Ron, she's eleven."

"I'm twelve, jerk!" the girl scowled.

Ron snorted.

Despite the girl's hesitation, she finally gave a jerky nod and ran off toward the tapestry. She shot one last look over her shoulder at Harry before disappearing underneath it.

The two boys took off again.

"What a sweet, grateful child," Ron breathed heavily.

"Just doesn't trust us. Can't blame her."

"Well, who do you think's gonna lose more points out of this. If you'd let her be later than us, Slytherin would've gone down more. Strategy, Harry!"

"Don't much care about house points these days, to be honest."

That shut Ron up.

To their great surprise, as they rounded the corner, the rest of the class was still waiting outside the door to the Potions room, divided by house, of course. Harry collapsed back against the wall, breathing heavily, while Ron bent over, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.

"Oh, look. Potty and the Weasel," Malfoy drawled. The Slytherins snickered.

Ron straightened, temper flaring out of habit, but Harry spoke before he could.

"Wow, really hurt by that one, Malfoy. We might even cry," Harry said as if he found the whole thing too stupid to bother with. Ron went with it and rolled his eyes. Harry continued as if having an idea. "Hey, I know. Maybe you could make fun of Ron being poor and me being an orphan, just for some new material...oh wait..." He trailed off and shrugged. It was the Gryffindors' turn to chuckle. The Slytherins glared, but Ron smirked as it looked like some were having a hard time disagreeing.

"Why think of new ways to insult you when the old ones hold true?" Malfoy retorted easily. "Weasley's family can still barely feed itself and your mother's still dead."

Harry began digging through his bag. "Yeah, yeah, while the Malfoys are rich and evil and swimming in pools of champagne, we get it." He pulled out a bag of fizzing whizbees and offered some to Parvati. "Can we skip it this time or does the memory impaired section need a recap?"

Ron kept his face neutral best he could, digging his hand into the candy bag when Harry offered, but inside he was laughing in Malfoy's pinched face. He didn't know if Harry really didn't care anymore about Malfoy's taunts or if it was an act, but never had they left a fight so obviously the victors. Malfoy just looked foolish.

Harry turned to talk to Hermione about what had kept them, but Malfoy wasn't about to be dismissed on that note. "So Potter, I heard you were in the hospital wing the whole time we were at Beauxbatons and they were trying to keep it all hushed."

Harry froze. Ron and Hermione both looked at their friend in surprise. Ron began to panic. Had Harry gotten sick and not told them?

But the next second, Harry looked just as calm as before. "Well, where did you think I'd sleep while the wards around the dorms were being strengthened?"

"Oh, I don't know, perhaps in the kitchens with the dirty little house elves. I'm sure they'd have a pile of rags for you to sleep on. They'd remind you of those clothes you show up at the train station in each year." He cocked his head to the side. "Is it some Muggle fashion to look as if you sleep in a gutter or are you just trying to fit in better with the Weasleys?"

Ron felt himself growing hot and would normally go for his wand, but waited for Harry's cue since he seemed to be playing this differently today. Harry didn't look quite as coolheaded as before, but he still didn't rise to the bait. "So really we're just back to the same theme again, aren't we?"

"While Gryffindors are so creative," Pansy Parkinson sneered sarcastically.

There was silence. Shit. Ron wanted to have a cool comeback to that one, but he couldn't think of one insult that didn't play on "evil" or "snakes" or "ferrets." Harry either didn't have one or was unwilling to play the game, because he was silent.

"Looks like Malfoy's eyebrows are a quite a bit darker than his hair these days. Not a natural blond anymore?" Parvati offered.

Well, it was new. Even Hermione snorted a little at Malfoy's infuriated sputtering.

Everyone jumped when the door flung open and slammed against the wall. Millicent Bulstrode even let out a strangled scream. Snape's narrowed eyes scanned the group, trying to determine if anyone had been fighting. Then he turned around and disappeared back inside, robes billowing menacingly behind him as the students nervously followed.

Once they got their potions started, Hermione leaned over. "Did you really stay in the infirmary while we were gone?"

"Yeah," Harry whispered. "They wanted to keep an eye on me. Wards were down, that sort of thing. Didn't want some Death Eater nabbing the Boy Who Lived while someone was fiddling with the protections 'round the tower. Bit embarrassing, probably, if that happened."

"You weren't in there for..." Ron's breath caught at the thought, "...you know."

Harry's eyes widened. "No! No. I was walking around the castle. Ask your dad. I was fine, honest. Nothing wrong 'cept a busted nose from a fight with Dudley."

"Oh Harry..." Hermione started.

"Don't oh Harry me. I got him back good."

There was something about that story that struck Ron as off. Shouldn't Harry's cousin be at his own boarding school? But before he could ask, they all noticed Snape staring at Harry, obviously having overheard. Snape's expression was stony, but Harry looked embarrassed as he pretended to be preoccupied with his chopping.

Snape started walking the other way, so Ron opened his mouth in question, but suddenly Snape was there like an overgrown bat "suggesting" they quit their yammering and focus the small amounts of brain activity they possessed on the task at hand.

When Snape swooped away, Ron leaned forward over the cauldron and whispered, "You swear you weren't in there 'cause you were sick."

Harry blinked at him. "Nothing to do with cancer, I swear."

Ron nodded uneasily and followed Harry's instructions to add the next ingredient. Something still seemed off about the whole thing, but he supposed if something had happened it was done with by now.

-

Snape sat at his desk grading papers and watching his students out of his peripheral vision. Now it was clear how Potter kept his family's dirty secret from anyone who showed suspicion. He'd lied about it with ease that could only come with practice.

If the boy had been a Slytherin, Snape would have called him after class and made it clear he could come here for support. Snape wasn't a kind man, but it was his duty to look after his students and he would never shirk that responsibility. Harry Potter, though, was not a Slytherin. Harry Potter detested his Potions professor. Why bother reaching out to a boy that would push his hand away in disgust?

Then again, Snape had been the first to discover the situation. The boy had already opened up to him and to slam that door after such a brutal attack seemed cold at best, damaging at worst. But kindling a relationship with James Potter's son? Not the most appealing venture, to say the least. Though, of course, James Potter had never gotten the opportunity to influence his son...

He watched the boy pack up his things and struggled with whether to snap at him to stay, but the then boy was out the door with the rest of the students.

Snape's body relaxed. It was for the best. Potter had Minerva if he needed to talk. Snape had wanted out of this situation and he'd have to be a fool to insert himself back into it right when he'd been allowed an exit.

He nodded to himself and bowed his head once more over his work. Potter would be fine without him.

-

"Well done, my boy. How about all three of us at once, now?" Dumbledore's eyes sparkled with delight. Harry nodded, still breathing hard from his duel with Dumbledore, which had been preceded by separate duels with McGonagall and Lupin. He straightened as his professors began to circle him.

"This round, pretend each curse thrown is an Unforgivable. Assume no shields will work and that you won't recover once hit," Dumbledore instructed. "This is pure dodging and firing back, from three directions. Are you ready?"

Harry nodded and immediately the curses flew from all three directions. He ducked to avoid a yellow streak from Lupin, then jumped over a red jet from McGonagall. He fired back wildly, trying to disarm anyone he could hit, but there was too much happening. He barely managed to avoid a hit from Dumbledore...by stepping right into a beam from Lupin's wand. His legs sprung together and he fell forward to his hands in a pushup position.

Lupin quickly cancelled the Leg-Locker Curse and helped Harry up.

"That," Harry gasped, "is impossible."

"For most, perhaps," Dumbledore agreed, summoning Harry's glass and filling it with water from his wand. "If you'll allow me an observation from our earlier duel, when you concentrate, you seem to sense what your opponent is preparing to do. If you can tap into that and apply it to multiple foes, you may be capable of more than anyone expects."

Harry hesitated. "Alright," he said slowly, "just give me a second to figure out how to do that." He saw McGonagall hide a smile.

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, trying to focus his concentration. Okay. Three opponents. Where are they? What are they feeling?

Gradually, he felt them. Dumbledore was easiest. Harry could practically feel the heat of the power crackling around him. Lupin was next. It took Harry a moment to understand what he was picking up there: rage and calm, wildness and control. That was the werewolf inside, obviously, but it was nowhere near the full moon. Harry supposed it was always there though, always a part of himself that Lupin had to fight. McGonagall was the most difficult to pick up on, though when he did, Harry realized it was not for want of magical energy. His head of house was a powerful witch, that was for sure, but her animagus form was telling: an animal who could creep silently, who could wait, calm and still, with only its tail waving hypnotically, before suddenly baring its teeth and swiping with bared claws. He'd have to keep an eye on her...or a feel on her, he supposed.

"Ready," he finally said, opening his eyes but trying to rely more on those feelings than his sight. He therefore felt McGonagall prepare to pounce behind him and Lupin's inner wolf duck into a predatory stance. Harry pushed to feel more. McGonagall would strike first, aiming for his chest, then Lupin at his legs. Harry dodged and jumped when they did, then dove when he felt the fire that was Dumbledore's magic jet toward him. Dumbledore was easy to avoid because his spells burned so bright. The others, he knew he had to get rid of first, especially McGongall since she kept managing to slink out of his radar.

Lupin and McGonagall fired at the same time and Harry had to dive to the ground to dodge them. He rolled to avoid a spell from Dumbledore. He momentarily lost his feel for McGonagall, but found her again when she shot a hex. He rolled again, then fired a Body Bind while he still had her. It hit. One down. He leapt to his feet. He had an idea.

He started firing spells with abandon at the two, purposefully to one side or the other, forcing them to move in the way he wanted. It didn't take long to get them right where he wanted, Lupin directly in front of him, Dumbledore directly behind. He faced Lupin and hesitated. Dumbledore took advantage first and fired from behind. Harry ducked down and in the headmaster's momentary surprise as his curse disarmed Lupin, Harry spun on the floor and shouted, "Expelliarmus!"

It took him a moment to be sure he'd won. At Dumbledore's smile and nod, though, he collapsed onto his back, breathing heavily.

"Wonderful, Harry," the headmaster congratulated. "Very clever."

"Oh Albus, you've exhausted the poor boy!" McGonagall chided, obviously out of her Body Bind.

"No, I'm fine," Harry said, pushing himself up. He paused, then looked up at the headmaster. "I'd never be able to do that against a bunch of Death Eaters, though. This was nearly more than I could handle."

Lupin extended a hand and helped Harry up. "You forget one of your opponents is the most powerful wizard alive." He looked Harry right in the eye very seriously. "And you won't be alone out there again, Harry. We'll do everything in our power to keep that from happening."

Harry nodded, truly thankful for that. After last year and the graveyard... He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. No use thinking of that now.

Lupin patted him on the back and suggested he take a break.

The door opened and the room's four occupants looked over. Snape hovered in the doorway, surveying the unexpected scene. "I apologize for the interruption," he said slowly. "I was merely delivering Lupin's monthly dose of Wolfsbane." He set a smoking goblet on a desk they had pushed next to the door. "It should be taken within the next hour."

"Thank you, Severus," Lupin said with a polite nod.

Snape nodded curtly and turned to leave.

"Wait Severus," Dumbledore called. Snape looked back and the older wizard motioned him over. "Close the door, if you may. I'd like you to duel Mr. Potter."

Snape glanced at Harry suspiciously. "Excuse me?"

"Another duel?" Harry asked in disappointment. He was ready to crawl into bed and sleep for ten years.

"Just one more, my boy, and we'll let you go," Dumbledore promised before turning back to his potion's master. "Severus, we've been working with Harry to improve his dueling in light of present circumstances. I believe you could offer a more authentic experience for the boy."

"Albus," Severus warned, eyes darting to Harry.

"I already know about the spy thing if that's what you're worried about," Harry said. A part of him wanted to shoot Snape a smug expression, but he couldn't muster up the feeling. Ever since the man pulled glass from his back and let him sleep it off on his office couch, Harry had felt differently about him. Then, in Harry's darkest hour, there he'd been again. Harry had literally thought he was an angel while half-conscious on that floor. That memory made him feel a bit silly, but it still mattered. Snape had been there when Harry was certain he was going to die and be thrown away like trash, then wrapped him up with such care and lifted him into his arms and Harry had trusted that Snape wouldn't let the Dursleys have his body. That had been the most important thing in the world to Harry in that moment, just as it had been Cedric Diggory's last request to him. He doubted he could ever truly dislike the man after that, no matter how Snape felt about him in return.

"The Dark Lord knows," Snape said, going pale.

Harry's eyes widened. "No, no. Well, not that I know of anyway. You all made some pretty obvious references to it in the Hospital Wing last year after the..." His breath caught. He dropped his eyes as memories flashed, rapid fire. But then he shook his head, shaking off the daze. "...the tournament. Sorry."

"Perfect. Now we all understand each other," Dumbledore said.

"Perfect?" Snape repeated incredulously. "A secret that could get me killed is out among the student body, Albus."

Dumbledore seemed unconcerned. "Harry won't tell anyone, will you, my boy?"

Harry's eyes widened a little and he shook his head. "I swear."

Snape glowered. "How reassuring."

"Ron, Hermione and I know, but we all know how dangerous that information is. We won't say anything," Harry swore.

"See, he's already gossiped about it!" Snape gestured sharply toward Harry.

Harry bristled a bit at the accusation. He straightened up in his chair. "Actually, you two had your poorly disguised conversation in front of all three of us. We haven't gossiped about it to anyone."

Snape still eyed him suspiciously.

"All settled," Dumbledore concluded. "Now, as I was saying, Severus I would like you to duel with Harry. You may use tactics you usually use while fighting."

"Surely you can instruct Potter without my help," Snape said stiffly. "My fighting style is too advanced and too dark for a student. It would be inappropriate."

"Unfortunately, Harry has already been up against more than any student should and I'm afraid he will too soon be forced to draw wands against those whose fighting is also 'inappropriate.'" Dumbledore looked at Harry, who was startled by the sudden sadness in the headmaster's eyes. "He will be better prepared if he sees what he is up against, without feeling the effects of curses he cannot fight or learn from. We'll keep out the darkest ones, but ones without pain or long-term harm, use."

Snape frowned. "Very well."

Harry set down his glass of water and pulled out his wand. He walked over slowly, eyes on the floor so he could get a feel for his professor. Snape was barely even preparing to fight. He obviously had low expectations. Harry smirked just a little before schooling his face and looking up at his opponent.

The two bowed and took their stances. Before Dumbledore signaled for them to begin, Snape lashed out, hissing, "Expelliarmus!"

Harry easily blocked the curse, having sensed Snape beginning to tense just before it. Snape began to shout a curse, but something about what he was doing felt off. Harry was already jumping to the left when he realized it was a feint, to see where Harry was moving. "Imperio!"

The spell hit Harry squarely in the chest. A familiar wave of calm washed through his mind. A voice told him to lower his wand. Harry almost did, because in their last drills, a hit was assumed to be the Killing Curse and Harry would consider himself a goner, but he reminded himself that these weren't the same rules. If Snape could use a bluff, well, so could he.

As best as he could, Harry let his face go blank while mentally arguing with the spell, then he lowered his wand as asked.

Snape turned smugly toward Dumbledore. "Well, there you are."

"Expelliarmus," Harry shouted, hitting Snape straight on. He snatched the flying wand out of the air and grinned triumphantly. Snape stared, his jaw hanging just a fraction.

"You were saying, Severus?" McGonagall asked, arms crossed and clearly delighted.

"That was a good fake, Professor," Harry said genuinely, handing the wand back, handle first. "I knew something was off, but I didn't get it until it happened. You were seeing which way I jumped, right?"

"How...you were under Imperius," Snape protested in a tone that was almost a scold. "It shouldn't have broken just because I took my focus off."

"Oh," Harry scratched his head, "I can fight Imperius off pretty well. Sorry, I should've said. I guess that was cheating."

"There's no cheating in dueling. It's not an exam." Snape looked interested. "Let's try that again. Ready?"

Harry nodded. He was tired, but he could feel Snape still had low expectations. He wasn't preparing for battle like his other professors did.

Snape began raining curses and hexes on him in rapid succession. Harry blocked and dodged, not bothering to fire back. He needed an opening. He definitely got a workout, though. Snape liked firing curses at his different sides, or up then down, trying to say them so fast Harry wouldn't have time to reverse the way he was jumping in time. At one point, he had to twist sideways and suck in his stomach to avoid two that whizzed by on either side of him, but one streak of light came so close it burned his back.

Harry could feel himself tiring, but Snape was also slowing. Harry knew he had to get the shot before he messed up and was hit. He pointed his wand at Snape, just slightly off-center to the left and opened his mouth. Just as Snape jumped to the right, Harry jerked his wand over and shouted the disarming charm.

He soon had Snape's wand in his hand for the second time that night.

"Quick study," Snape grumbled as Harry offered him his wand back, but once again, the man looked intrigued, even, perhaps, the tiniest bit excited.

"Before you arrived, Harry beat each of us separately, then all of us together," Lupin bragged, shooting Harry a pleased smile.

"All three of you?" Snape repeated, eyeing Harry as if he were a fascinating potions specimen. "Even you, Albus? It was three on one?"

Dumbledore smiled in that twinkly way of his. "What do you say, Severus? We could use your expertise. Shall we plan on a four on one duel for the next lesson?"

Snape looked reluctant, but apparently curiosity won out. "I'll be there. You're right. Potter should learn the dark side of dueling. The Dark Lord certainly doesn't use tickle charms."

Harry snorted and smirked. "Just fires rainbows and unicorns at you."

Lupin shared a smile with him. Snape just looked mildly disturbed.

"I think it's time for me to escort Mr. Potter to his tower," McGonagall announced. "We've made the poor boy jump through enough hoops tonight and it's well after curfew."

"You don't have to walk me, Professor. I can manage on my own," Harry protested, his cheeks heating a little.

"I insist. You're dead on your feet and it's on my way. Don't want you nodding off in the hallway."

Harry said goodnight to the other professors before he and Professor McGonagall started toward the common room.

"I'm proud of you, Harry," she said once they were alone. "You're doing an excellent job."

Harry blushed. "Thanks, Professor."

"You know I'm available if you ever need someone to talk to," she said, her tone anything but casual.

Harry began to feel uncomfortable with where this was going. "Uh, okay."

McGonagall's eyes surveyed the empty hall then turned down at him with a sorrowful expression. "Harry, why didn't you come to me with what was happening with your relatives? Did you not feel I was approachable?"

Harry stiffened and avoided her gaze. "It wasn't personal; you're fine. I didn't want to talk to anyone about it. I still don't."

"Of course," she said quickly, but after a pause, she nearly blurted, as if she couldn't help herself, "You went to Professor Snape with it. I would have thought he'd be the last person in the castle you'd approach."

Harry's jaw clenched. He wished she'd just shut up about it. "It wasn't like I went to him for a heart to heart. I was desperate and he pushed it and it just came out. Please, Professor, I really don't want to talk about this."

McGonagall's face softened and she nodded. "Yes, of course. I apologize for prying. If you ever would like to talk, though, my door is always open to you, day or night."

"Thanks," Harry muttered.

He was beyond grateful to arrive at the Fat Lady's portrait and to dart inside the common room after a quick goodnight to his head of house.

It looked like it was later than he'd thought. The only two still in the common room were waiting to greet him. Hermione and Ron swept books off the table and slid them underneath as Harry collapsed in a big, cushy chair. They'd been doing that ever since he'd told them about the cancer. He knew they were trying to find something to help. He'd explained several times that he'd already been through the books during his initial search, but they wouldn't believe it until they saw it themselves, he supposed. Besides, he needed the cancer to defeat Voldemort. His dueling proved that. He could beat Dumbledore now, after all.

Of course if they could find something else... No. He wouldn't think like that. This was the key. He was saving lives. His mother had given her life for him, it was always meant that he would, in turn, give his life for the wizarding world. This way, he also got to save the Stensons. It was what had to be.

Either way, he was secretly touched they cared so much.

"You look wiped," Ron said.

"I am wiped," Harry muttered. He nuzzled his face into the soft back of the chair.

Ron leaned in. "So, tell us about it!"

"Make it short," Hermione added. "You need your rest."

"Thanks Mum," Harry said, eyes resting closed. "I dueled each separately. Then twice with all the three of them together. Then Snape alone twice."

"And you won?" Ron asked excitedly.

Harry nodded. "Except for the first time with all three. Got hit with a Leg-Locker."

"Harry! You're supposed to take it easy!" Hermione scolded.

"I'm fine, 'Mione."

"Ron, get him to bed. You know he doesn't understand what 'fine' means."

"Hey!" Harry opened his eyes to glare at Hermione, but Ron was right there.

"Come on, mate. Let's go."

"Fine," Harry grumbled. He pushed himself to his feet, but barely made it a few steps before feeling too weak. He eyed the staircase and just knew making it all the way up would be impossible. He shook his head and sat on the couch. "Never mind. I can't make that. I'm going to sleep here." He started to lie down but Ron grabbed his arm and tugged.

"I'll levitate you and it won't be pretty," Ron threatened. "We both know my levitation charms. You'll bang into lots of walls."

Harry groaned and allowed Ron to pull him to his feet. They said their goodnights to Hermione, Harry's being a mumble that didn't sound like anything in English, and the two boys started up the tower.

Just after the second floor, with Ron chatting away about how wicked it was that he'd beat Snape, Harry's foot caught on the stair and he pitched forward. He landed on his hands and Ron picked him up.

"You okay?"

"Fine."

"Nice spill."

"Arse."

At the fourth floor landing, suddenly Harry just couldn't open his eyes and felt himself sinking. He was shocked awake when arms wrapped around his waist and his knees hit the stone with a painful jolt.

Ron's eyes went wide. "Merlin, Harry. What was that?"

Harry pressed a hand to his forehead to try to wake himself up. His body had never felt so weak and he had never felt so tired in his life. "Maybe I did overdo it," he admitted. "I don't know. This is weird."

"Should I get Hermione?" Ron asked.

"No. Don't be an idiot; I'm just tired."

Ron shook his head. "This is more than tired, Harry."

A silence descended over both of them.

"Oh shit," Ron gasped, sounding like he was going to start hyperventilating.

"It's nothing. It's nothing," Harry said frantically, pushing to his feet. He didn't feel as tired now that Ron was looking at him like he was going to drop dead right there. He'd never told Ron about that initial dizziness and the coughing fit he'd had after Transfiguration that day. Maybe it would have been good to warn him that this sort of thing would start happening, but then, if Ron was pale and breathless at this, the reaction to hearing Harry had coughed blood probably wouldn't have gone over well.

Harry held onto the banister and pushed himself up the stairs. He felt tired and weak, though less like he was going to just fall asleep now and more like his feet would soon stop responding to his brain's strict demands that they keep going.

Ron had fallen quiet. Harry told him more details about his duel with Snape, trying to cheer Ron up by telling him how he'd won by using Snape's own trick against him, but he didn't think Ron was listening. With one more floor to go, Harry was too tired to keep up the effort. He wanted to say something to Ron, to be a supportive friend when Ron looked so traumatized, but what could he say? And he was so tired...

He slumped onto his bed and kicked off his shoes. Ron stiffly grabbed his toothbrush and disappeared. Harry was asleep before he got back.