The Prince-Who-Lived

Chapter Fifty-five

Alan had to admit that the most interesting thing about dating Luna was when she would abruptly decide they were going to do something. Usually, in those instances, it was something bizarre. Currently, said unexpected activity had pulled him away from his homework once he only had Ancient Runes left – a class he could afford to miss homework on because of his excellent scores – and now they were wandering the seventh floor, looking for something Alan hadn't the first clue about. Luna was staring at the walls until she finally stopped at a tapestry. Alan took a moment to look it over, and then started laughing. Luna sniffed.

"Silly men do silly things."

"Training trolls for ballet doesn't strike me so much as silly," Alan snorted, "as the stupidest thing I've seen in a long time."

"Well." Luna laughed at him momentarily. "You must admit there is that." She then turned abruptly around and stared at the blank wall opposite.

"What are you looking for over there?"

"Something to do with the number three." Luna dreamily announced. "But what, I cannot be sure."

Alan shrugged and walked over to the wall, staring at it for a long time and then running his hand along the stones as he slowly walked down the length to where a portrait got in the way. He turned around and did the same, looking lower down and wondering what on earth Luna could be thinking about – there was a much better place for this in the library, with a cushioned chair … the second try hadn't opened anything, and Alan turned and stalked back to Luna, fully intent on distracting her so thoroughly her foolish notion of exploring further in the area would flee her thoughts, and they could get back to the library, which had a chair perfect for his ideas…

"Oh, thank you, Alan!" Luna beamed and ran over to the wall. Alan could only stare at where she had been. He hadn't done anything. That wall had most stubbornly been a wall. He knew how to find secrets, thank you. He turned and blinked rapidly at the door Luna was looking through. After a moment she pulled back out and shut the door, pouting.

"That wasn't what I was looking for, Alan." Luna answered, her tone flat but amused. "We need a room other than the library. Hmmm, I should try … this…"

"Luna, what the Hell…" Alan really felt he should be used to this, but c'mon! How she managed to be so strange was beyond his comprehension.

"One moment!" She called, pleasantly. She was retracing his steps, stalking from one side to the portrait as she trailed her hand in imitation of him, back from the portrait to the alcove with the large vase, and then turning and flouncing back to Alan. Before Alan's eyes, a door materialized in the wall, as basic and typical as the castle got. Alan could only blink.

"See?" Luna purred. "There's something important in that room, and we need to find it. Come, then we can go find a nice comfy spot."

Alan sighed and pulled the door open – and stopped. "Luna, this is going to be impossible!"

The room was the size of a cathedral, the windows tall and musty, leaking diffused light through the labyrinthine alleys of broken furniture and random, scattered items. He could only compare it to a garage sale on a mammoth scale, of items more or less worthless and far more insane. Luna, typically, was unmoved, but her eyes looked tight. That, more than anything calmed Alan down.

"Do you even know what we need to find?"

"I don't." Luna answered softly. "But … I might be able to narrow it down…" She fumbled at her bag and pulled out a small, purple crystal. "I knew I found this in the library for a reason." She murmured.

"When did you find that?"

"My second year." She murmured. "I think it fell out of Neville's bag, but I know he won't miss it. He hasn't yet. Can you conjure me a string, Alan?"

Bemused now, Alan did so and Luna spent a minute or two tying the string on just so. Alan just sighed and glanced over the items nearby. He glimpsed at least two rusted swords beside a necklace he wouldn't have touched with a stick it was so ugly and so coated in a cascade of magic. Further down, he thought he saw a small cache of brooms underneath a hovering fanged Frisbee, and in front of him was a noble looking chair with something growing out of the cushion and waving threateningly as he drew nearer. Alan quickly backed off and glanced at Luna. Her eyes were closed and she was spinning the crystal over her right hand, palm up. The circle had become lopsided – the crystal was mainly aiming sidelong, and then Luna dropped it into her hand and glanced down. She smiled and pointed.

"It's left, the first left."

Alan didn't argue, but simply led the way. "What are you feeling that you're so sure something is in here?" Alan queried.

"It's something that feels like you." She answered.

"But I've never been in here before." Alan pointed out; on impulse, he quickly tugged a curtain down and grimaced as it revealed a chair covered in dark bloodstains and reeking of rot. Underneath the chair was a cage with a fuzzy blob inside, immobile. He didn't look.

"It's not you-you." Luna hummed. "It's another part of you. I've felt it before, about other things." She tilted her head patiently and then stopped, dropping the crystal down and starting it swinging again. Alan wished she'd moved at least a few more feet away from the disgusting chair, but took the chance to cover his nose and look at the fuzzy thing underneath. It was a rather stale looking chinchilla of sorts, except covered in long brown fur. Alan imagined it was probably petrified. The hair was getting rather stiff and beginning to degrade, and it's eyes, while wide open, were coated in dust. Alan simply shrugged it off and moved to the other side of the aisle. This was a small jewellery box, again cursed, sitting on a side table that quivered at his approach. Alan backed off and checked on Luna. This time the circle had changed to swinging forwards. Luna dropped the crystal into her hand and confirmed it.

"Further ahead."

Alan led the way once more. They walked down a long ways, passing a blistered cabinet, and coming across a bicycle. Alan had to laugh at the rusted penny-farthing bike someone had brought here and stowed for whatever reason. It was leaning on an intricate headboard someone had blown a hole through, and beside it was something making growling and snapping noises. When Luna paused again to consult her dowsing once more, Alan began to glance round, trying to find the source of the sound without touching anything. He didn't want to know if some of this could bite. He hadn't found it by the time Luna spoke up with a slightly confused tone,

"Back. We need to go back. Alan, let me lead."

Alan stood and nodded, letting Luna go first. She walked slowly, swinging the crystal in a circle and staring only at it as she moved. It was a slightly oblong circle, swinging to her right and ahead, and back to her left on a diagonal. Alan presumed the correct place was the one facing her right but shrugged it off. He began to scan that wall, and found the blistered cabinet, and ugly bust, a few rolled carpets and a chair, leaning back to back with a bent lance and a dresser in the next aisle over. Luna came abreast of the cabinet and hesitated before walking slowly past it. Several paces later, she stopped and pointed at the cabinet.

"It's somewhere over there."

Alan blinked at her. "Are you sure?"

"Yes…" Luna hummed and blinked. "As sure as I can be. Alan, this is important. The last time I felt like this, it was the cup."

Alan stepped back, stunned. "The horcrux?"

"Yes!" She snapped. "And I don't know why they feel like you!"

Alan realized that was what was disturbing her most. It didn't really surprise him; he was connected to Voldemort in a some way but apparently Luna found it disturbing and hated it. Alan turned and opened the cabinet, riffling through it. If it was a horcrux that made things several times easier: he was looking for something that actually looked significant, not a broken dowel or a rusted cage with a five-legged skeleton, both of which he could immediately discard as possibilities. Most certainly everything else he'd used so far had been significant – Slytherin's Locket and that fancy golden cup – and Alan couldn't imagine him settling for less.

The cabinet held nothing, but Alan tapped the walls, drew out the drawers and scanned the top of it all the same. He glanced back at Luna, but she was stubbornly refusing to look; she was standing on the other side of the aisle, hugging herself and fitfully glaring at the crystal dangling from her hand as though it had done her some personal wrong. Alan brushed it off and began to look through the items on the right side. He found a wig, a bag full of broken nails, a few bones, and some crumbly bits that smelled strongly of mould. The desk underneath tried to slam it's drawer shut on his hand. Alan glared at it, and moved to the left side; he'd only fight that desk if he had to, thank you very much.

The other side had the gleaming bust, a mess of scattered papers, and a dusty old quill sitting on a stack of books on a chair with a cracked leg. Alan couldn't find anything there, and finally he lifted the bust off the books and set it aside. A tarnished tiara fell onto the books from behind the bust, and Alan moved to shift it aside before he realized it was enchanted. He blinked, and frowned at it. How was he going to get to those books if he had to deal with a cursed piece of jewellery? Irritably, Alan took the quill and prodded it out of the way and onto the floor before dusting off the book beneath. Luna gave a soft gasp and Alan turned to find her reaching for the tiara.

"Luna, don't touch that, it's cursed!"

"It's not cursed," Luna dreamily answered. "I think this is Ravenclaw's diadem." She purred. Uncaring of Alan's warning, she touched it and then froze. Alan felt his heart nearly stop in the second she took to speak again, "No…" She panted. "This is the horcrux."

Alan wasn't sure that was a much better announcement. At least he could get clean; he was coated in dust. "Luna? Are you alright?"

"Yes." She answered. She straightened without picking the diadem up and hugged her arms around herself. "We need to get that to Dumbledore." She pointed out breathily.

"Luna, are you sure you're alright?" Alan asked again, quickly grabbing two of the pieces of parchment and quickly folding them into a pouch, sticking the ends together before scooping up the tiara with it and shaking it down inside. Luna merely nodded, disturbed, and watched him go. After a moment, when they were walking back out, she asked,

"Why did you disregard it?"

Alan flushed. "I hadn't thought Voldemort would choose such a feminine accoutrement. Guess I should have known better after the locket and the cup."

Luna laughed brightly, and held open the door for Alan. Alan stepped out and disillusioned the parchment sleeve before bowing Luna further down the corridor and on to the long walk to Dumbledore's office, spelling as much dust off as he could. They arrived at the same time as Green was stalking upstairs; Alan wasn't going to argue with that luck. Naturally, Green looked them both over thoroughly, and, after Alan brandished it slightly, squinted at the disillusioned parchment in his hand.

"Peopled don't tend to disillusion their homework." Green pointed out acerbically.

Alan just shrugged; Green was just moody sometimes, especially when he wasn't allowed in his lab. "This isn't homework. You might even enjoy it." Green simply frowned, and Alan sighed. "This is for Dumbledore. Can you let us up?"

"Yeah." Green nodded. "You caught him on a good day; he's actually in. He's been disappearing, so it's getting rather annoying. I'd wanted to talk with him last week." He groused.

Alan laughed softy. "There is that. Thank you."

Green just shrugged and stepped onto the revolving staircase, Alan and Luna behind him. Upstairs, they stepped out and Dumbledore glanced up in surprise. "Mr. Prince." Dumbledore nodded. "What a pleasant surprise."

"This is probably even more pleasant." Alan grinned, cancelling the spell and tossing the makeshift sleeve onto this desk. "Found that in a hidden room upstairs."

Dumbledore murmured a spell and tapped the parchment. The top layer went invisible, revealing the tiara underneath.

"Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure." Luna recited. "It's Ravenclaw's diadem."

"And it's a horcrux." Dumbledore murmured. "A terrible loss, but an unavoidable one. Green, can you take care of it?"

Green nodded sharply, his eyes glittering with interest, and picked up the sleeve. He glanced at Alan before speaking up, "Will you come meet with me to check on its destruction? I wanted to talk to you about Slughorn again; he's getting annoying."

Dumbledore nodded shortly, and Green quickly slipped back downstairs. Alan moved to follow, but Dumbledore softly asked him to stay. Alan obeyed, curious. Dumbledore took a moment to rub at his eyes; he looked very tired and finally he smiled up at Alan, his expression delicately strained.

"Sir?" Alan offered.

"Alan, child," Dumbledore began but quickly cut himself off as Alan frowned. "Alan, I am most pleased you brought that to me."

"Luna insisted on finding it, sir. I just got covered in dust." Alan added.

"It was most noble of you to do so, and to listen to her." Dumbledore smiled honestly, finally. "And I thank you, Luna, for finding it."

Luna's expression was torn again. Alan reached over and pulled her against his side, having to quickly shove the sensation away as she snuggled against him; Merlin, she knew how to be distracting! Dumbledore was still watching, and the way he was smiling at him made it clear he could guess what the sensation was doing to him – the smile had become genuine.

"I should also inform you that that was the last horcrux I believe we needed to find." Dumbledore added. Alan blinked.

"Are you sure, sir?"

"We have found and destroyed six, Alan. The diary. The locket. Nagini, who died when Neville rescued Harry. I found a ring in the house of Tom Riddle's mother and destroyed it over the summer, and Pettigrew brought us the cup. And you have found the diadem. I can only imagine Tom Riddle finding a sweet power in the idea of a seven-part soul – the most powerfully magical number, indeed. And using horcruxes, to make himself immortal…"

"But he's mortal now, then?" Alan asked cautiously. "He has no more horcruxes."

"He has no more, as far as we can be sure." Dumbledore answered. His expression was sad; Alan felt he must have missed something, been lied to, but Dumbledore suddenly fixated on Luna next to him, and asked, "Alan, what do you know of love?"

Alan blinked abruptly. Did he just…? He wouldn't have. Would he? What?

"I imagine you were raised in the best environment, or at least one that was exceedingly caring." Dumbledore continued, apparently stubborn on that nebulous point.

"If a tad careless," Alan agreed.

Dumbledore's eyes crinkled. "The very same. Now, Alan, please tell me. You remember the prophecy?"

"Yes…" Alan drew the word out and looked worriedly down at Luna. He hadn't mentioned the prophecy to anyone. However, Luna both looked unsurprised and glared up at him; Alan gave up and turned his glare to Dumbledore, daring him to let the laughter on his face become any more pronounced. Dumbledore smoothed the look off most of his face, but his eyes were twinkling.

"Do you recall the line of the prophecy speaking of the 'Power He Knows Not'?"

Alan raised his eyebrows. "Indeed. Do you believe you know it?"

Dumbledore's twinkling was worse now. "I do believe I do, and I do believe you have some grounding in it."

"Oh, love!" Luna piped up. "Love is the most fascinating power."

Alan glanced down at Luna sceptically to find her staring back up at him with a bright smile. Alan looked up at Dumbledore, mildly hoping for it to be countered, but when he found him smiling still, Alan wasn't exactly surprised.

"Love?" Alan asked sceptically. It was just so … typical … and kinda pathetic.

"Yes, Alan, love." Dumbledore smiled. "I suppose you are unaware as we have not made a point to share much news with you and neither have you asked, but it has been confirmed through several sources that abruptly in the middle of summer, Voldemort flew into a terrible temper for no apparent reason before locking himself in his quarters. Would you, perhaps, know the reason for that?"

"Summer?" Alan asked, trying not to blush. He didn't think he was succeeding. Oh, to have forgotten Geoffrey's warning like that! And reminded of it, when the adults couldn't have known… "Indeed?"

"Yes." Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling, damn him. "However, I don't believe you experienced any bad effects at that time, did you?"

Alan wordlessly shook his head, and the coughed. "Er, are you sure its 'love'?" Couldn't they get off the topic of him and Luna while she was in the room?

"Does it sound weak, to you, Alan?" Dumbledore's tone had become serious again. It didn't help his blush any.

"Well, just a bit, yeah." Alan offered.

"Are you afraid to love? Do you not hold anything dear?" Dumbledore asked.

"No…" Alan answered carefully, not liking the interrogation. Really, what self-respecting teenager would admit to that anyways? And nothing was important to him, not really… Alan quickly revised the thought as Luna began to draw circles on his back; his face flushed again. "Well, yes, but… Sir, this isn't making sense."

Dumbledore only smiled. "Perhaps we should continue the conversation when you are less … distracted."

Alan nodded. "Yeah, probably."

"Perhaps you could come visit sometime at your leisure with your friends? I've promised Harry a talk as well."

"That'd be more difficult." Alan hedged. "Sixth year is butchering us."

"It does that indeed. There is little hurry. Everything seems to be in hand, Alan, so do not worry yourself. Things are going better than I could have anticipated."

Alan didn't even bother to understand that, and just shrugged it off and left. He could hear Dumbledore chuckling softly, and a final few words, "I suppose Voldemort won't be in a good mood tonight, either … fitting, for it to be Samhain."

Alan blushed again. It's not like he was wrong, but the Headmaster isn't supposed to know about that. Maybe he could try and figure out how to fix that … leak, or whatever it was… After a few minutes, however, Alan glanced up at Luna, who was dragging him along, and tugged on the arm she was holding. They were almost back up the stairs to the room they'd been in earlier and she stopped, curious. He folded his arms over her shoulders and pulled her back against his chest, staring at the wall ahead.

"Luna, do you think there's power in love?"

"You said last year nothing destroys Occlumency like teenaged hormones." She teased.

"That's more of a weakness." Alan groused.

"You never felt anything during the summer, after we made love. Dumbledore said Voldemort was hacked off at that."

"But why?"

Luna shrugged under his, oblivious to his frustration. "Maybe he's gay?"

"What?"

Luna glanced up at him innocently. "Maybe Voldemort is gay. I'm much too much woman for him, then."

Alan could only blink for several moments before she continued; Alan took a minute to realize she was speaking sense again.

"Despite losing your Occlumency when I distracted you, you didn't have any ill effects, so the loss didn't allow Voldemort any leeway and instead caused him pain. I'll assume you were most kindly disposed towards me at the time, most loving, so in that sense there is power in love, and it is a power Voldemort cannot abide."

Alan blinked several times more and frowned. "Luna, I'm not a loving person."

"Do you love me?" She asked blandly.

Alan shook his head and smiled. "Of course I do."

"Then you are loving." She pulled him to move forwards again but Alan refused. She frowned back at him, and Alan tried to explain.

"But Luna, I don't love anyone else. That's not a lot of 'power' if it's only for one person."

"Not Geoffrey?" Luna asked briskly. Alan thought a moment and shook his head. "Blaise? Andrew? Severus?"

Alan shook his head again. "No. I care for them, sure, but they can take care of themselves. I don't love them."

"What about Harry? And Regulus?"

"I love Regulus." Alan answered quickly. "He's, honestly, like a father. I'm not close to Severus."

"And what about Harry? What about Neville?"

"Neville's strong enough on his own. He's a comrade, but he's not close to me." Alan hedged. He didn't look at Luna.

"Alan, what about Harry?"

Alan grimaced. "I don't know. I don't think I love him, he's my best friend, but … he's…"

Luna glanced at him for a long moment, slipped her hand into her bag and pulled out a card at random. She glanced at it, and slipped it back inside. Alan looked at her, curious, but she reached up and tugged him forward again. Alan had to concentrate on keeping his feet for several minutes, and finally, when she released him to pace in front of the wall, Alan took the time to catch his breath before grabbing Luna as she returned to him.

"Okay, coy is over. What was that card?"

"The card?" She asked brilliantly. She smiled brightly, kissing Alan's nose. "Harry is something you already know about. You've known it for years."

Alan couldn't think of it, himself, and followed Luna into a mock-up of what had to be her bedroom with the odd pictures and round shape. He ignored the images for the time being and pulled her onto the bed, growling, "Luna, that didn't help!"

Luna kissed him, and while it was pleasant and nice, melt-into-your-shoes good he pulled away and frowned at her again.

"I'm not giving up."

Luna gave him a slightly exasperated look. "What is your heart's desire?"

Alan blinked and suddenly remembered: His heart's desire. His equal. Alan felt an incredulous smile build and he laughed softly. It was Luna's turn to frown, and she looked so cute Alan couldn't help but kiss her on the nose in return.

"Harry is my equal." Alan answered honestly. "And I think we need to give Voldemort something to regret about Samhain, don't you?"

Luna answered by simply pulling off her shirt and bra in one fell swoop.

IIII

Alan's high spirits were counter-point to Harry's own, and in addition he was suffering his own bout of confusion as well. After having an extremely pleasant rendezvous in the closet with Daphne, he was still feeling a bit worried about Susan – because he still liked her. He was about ready to slap himself for the fickleness, but stubbornly carried on as he had been, attending the Monday dinner party with Neville and going through class feeling a Hell of a lot more relaxed than he had been. The lapse of the curse had reduced his stress so much he went from using Dreamless sleep every night at midnight after waking from a nightmare to once, maybe twice a week. It also added another pleasant dream to the mix, one where it hadn't been an uncomfortable broom closet, and he hadn't remembered he'd had unfinished homework and so did she…

His confusion wasn't helped when it occasionally morphed into Susan Bones.

Neville was additionally in high spirits, something everybody was teasing him for as it not-so-coincidentally occurred at Hermione's split with Anthony Goldstein and a resulting shouting match during Defence that ended with Severus pronouncing them an excellent choice to demonstrate a silent duel – one that Hermione had won almost instantaneously against the pissed off Ravenclaw.

Schoolwork seemed to ease up suddenly, and Harry found himself paying more attention during the Quidditch practices – a factor probably aided by him getting back on a broom and nearly taking a beater's bat to McLaggen's head. Within five minutes of the first practice he spent in the air, Harry called a halt and waved McLaggen to the ground. The burly seventh year lumbered over and frowned.

"What's the matter, Potter?"

"That's Captain to you, McLaggen." Harry threw at him. "Maybe you should remember it. I gave you leeway in your actions earlier because I wasn't up there to keep an eye on you, but if you don't stop ordering the others around you're off the team."

"You certainly weren't doing a good job of it-" McLaggen blustered, angry.

Harry cut him off with a slash. "No, that was earlier. I certainly couldn't do much about it when I was incapacitated, and Alan wasn't willing to come down on you because he wasn't actually the captain,"

"Like I'd listen to a Slytherin-" McLaggen scoffed.

Harry fell silent and gave McLaggen a grim smile before raising one finger. "That's your second strike. Your first was when I had to pull you down here to tell you off. You've got one more chance, and you're off the team."

"What'll you do if Weasley can't play?" McLaggen demanded, shocked. "You don't have another reserve; none of the others even did half as well."

"Melanie can pinch hit, and Demelza play in the Chasers." Harry grinned insincerely. "And I'd sooner forfeit a game than put in a useless waste of space who can't play with others." McLaggen's face turned bright red as he struggled not to blow up. Harry's grin widened. "So play nice, unless you'd rather leave already, on your own terms."

McLaggen took several deep breaths and smiled bitterly back. "I'll prove you'd be wrong to throw me off the team.

"By all means." Harry agreed, wishing he'd just leave. "Now go play nice. You're reserve, and you bloody well aren't captain."

McLaggen only nodded, flying back up to play as Harry took to the air and watched as they worked together, calling out advice. After that practice, Harry quickly asked Melanie if she thought she could pinch hit as keeper, and got a hesitant agreement. Harry told her to go play with a couple first years or so when they put together a pick-up game, and left her to it. He was looking forward to the first game of the year.

Of course, it couldn't last. Harry felt it was probably poetic justice that the night before the match, he had a nightmare and didn't have any Dreamless Sleep. Morning found him with his head on his arms at the breakfast table, Ron chivvying the other team members to eat and be ready to go since Harry wasn't up to it. Partway through the meal, Ginny elbowed him and smiled despite his haggard appearance.

"Vaisey's in the hospital wing, you know." She pointed out. "And the sky's lovely and blue and Malfoy is glaring at your back, as per usual. He looks a bit peaky himself."

Harry sighed and sat up, running his fingers through his hair. "I'll be fine. Thanks Ginny."

"No problem." She beamed. "Don't get hit with a bludger, would you? We don't need to pull in Demelza, okay?"

"Yes, Ginny." Harry grinned. "I hear you."

"Great. Now, come along. Alan's already promised to have his wand out, Dumbledore's gonna be there, and Madam Hooch has been told to keep an eye out for falling Seekers."

Harry laughed again, and felt a little better. There were no worries about him ending up in pain due to wind impact; after testing it with Daphne, Neville had returned to his habits of slinging his arm over Harry's shoulder and teasing him about his lack of height. He would do fine, provided he didn't have a panic attack in the air or a flashback. Besides, if he did he was good enough to get back on his broom, right?

Surely.

Well, he just stubbornly wouldn't run into those problems. They could wait till he returned to the ground.

The match started, Harry smiling threateningly at the Slytherin captain Urquhart as they shook hands – and tried to wring the other's out of joint. Madam Hooch glared between them and gave the whistle; and they were up in the air and a high pitched, female voice came through the commentator's mike.

"And the teams get off to a great start, we've got Gryffindor vs. Slytherin, and the line-up looks pretty fair. Gryffindor is maintaining their habitual female Chaser line, while Slytherin has the archaic idea that women don't play sports. In fact, Gryffindor has Potter's little sister in the Beater position; I can hardly imagine how she can even manage without getting knocked off her broom, so I expect some pretty fancy playing today!"

Harry looked down and found a small head of black, curly hair standing in the commentator's box – he suspected she was on a stool or something: the commentator was Sable Hodges, and she must have had a bucket-full of sugar for breakfast to sound that excited. Maybe it was a first year thing, but man – he hadn't been that hyper, had he?

"And Urquhart streaks up the pitch with the quaffle in hand, come to challenge Mr. Weasley – and it's saved, Weasley drops the quaffle off with his sister and she's back down the line to shoot on the Slytherin keeper. It seems that Quidditch must run in families in this case, as the Weasleys have had players on the Gryffindor team almost every year they've been at this school, not to mention Miss Potter's stunning ferocity with those bludgers that probably weigh more than she does."

Harry laughed as Nanna shouted in offence, still grinning widely. Harry was circling, waiting and watching as Draco circled opposite, a glare fixed in his direction.

The game went much in the positive vein. Katie gracefully led Ginny and Melanie around the pitch, passing and feinting in all directions and getting score after score through the other side. Ron had missed only one goal – during which he'd been fouled, and Melanie had made the penalty shot that resulted. Draco was looking paler than ever, and he viciously glared at Harry, trying to ram him and other cruelties – but when Gryffindor was a hundred points up, Harry suddenly shot straight through the Chasers once more, skirting the commentator's platform. Draco, appropriately, followed him frantically – Harry was indeed chasing the snitch, and so focused he didn't notice Draco yelling at him, didn't notice until he'd snagged the snitch and come to a stop, holding it proudly aloft. Gryffindor went wild, Luna' hat roared, and Draco was suddenly and abruptly hexed off his broom, Neville bearing down on him like a storm cloud. Harry landed quickly and headed him off, grabbing his arm, confused as Hell.

"Neville, what the Hell got into you?"

Neville stopped, tense as a pillar, and didn't answer. Harry frantically tried to think of what could have transpired – they had flown past where Neville was sitting, sure, but Harry hadn't heard anything. Draco shouted behind him,

"Oh, that's why! Can't stand your whore plying other wares? Despicable, barely fought anything, he did, and doesn't really care what you do, does he, even up to forcing it down his throat!"

Harry's ears roared. That had happened once – he'd been blindfolded. He'd also been sure there'd been only three people present: Lucius, Voldemort, and one other. One other. He felt his face blank, and Neville pulled out of his grip, running to attack and Harry didn't stop him, merely sank to the ground, spiralling in darkness and trying to forget.

When he could see again, someone was supporting him, helping him walk up to the castle. Neville was stalking ahead, sullenly remaining one step behind McGonagall, and everyone was murmuring around him. Harry growled and tried to straighten. Ron quickly asked, "Are you all right?"

Okay, Ron holding him was fine. He was nearly as tall as Alan and broader, so that was peachy, really. "Yeah, I'm all right. What happened?"

"Neville hexed Malfoy into a shivering ball of slime." Ron growled, pleased. "Ruddy git deserved it. Not a lot of people heard him, so I don't know why, but when you just collapsed like that, Hooch and McGonagall weren't too keen on punishing Neville until they knew why. When neither would repeat it, McGonagall gave them both detentions with Ms. Harper – that's the new caretaker. You tend to call her Sybilla."

"Okay." Harry agreed cautiously, getting his feet under him and walking along with Ron. Ron slowed his pace so Harry could keep up in his groggy state, and Harry quickly cursed the memories that kept plaguing him, crippling him. He was only grateful it hadn't happened in the air. "How're our Slytherins?"

"Fine, as far as I can tell." Ron answered. Harry pulled him to a stop and had him wait at the doors, Harry watching the group come up, laughing and joking. They all came upon them, demanding to know he was all right. Daphne kissed him and lingered to much laughter and Harry's profuse embarrassment, and then they moved inside, happily, pleasantly… Harry waved them off, citing the party in Gryffindor tower, and went upstairs to enjoy himself, and hopefully forget his second collapse in plain view of the school. He supposed he should be grateful it hadn't been worse, but still. It was frustrating to lose control like that.

His anger, and the party, was forgotten twenty minutes later when a student raced up to Gryffindor tower and screamed that someone had just appeared above the lake and fallen in – they hadn't resurfaced. Harry was stunned, and ran down to the shore with everyone else, wishing Gryffindor tower were closer to the front door – even as fast as he could go, it was still more than five minutes before they joined the other students on the shore.

Flitwick and McGonagall were doing something; Harry wasn't tall enough to see, but the crowd was gasping, astonished, panicked – and someone hollered his name. Harry pushed his way forward, breaking out of the crowd and froze. Alan was collapsed on the shore, panting for breath and coughing – he still hadn't taken down a bubblehead charm. Harry cancelled it without thinking and pushed him onto his side, where Alan proceeded to hack and cough himself hoarse, bringing up more water.

Severus burst through the crowd and dropped next to his son, holding out a potion that Alan shakily accepted. He seemed stronger after it; he sat up and Harry rocked back on his heels, hoping everything would be all right, wondering what the Hell was going on. When Alan could finally breathe properly, he glanced over at Harry, then up to the teachers.

"Someone set this up." He croaked. "It was a living chain that attacked me and was a portkey over the lake. God, that was a strong animation charm, and," He took a moment to cough, "that's a fucking deep lake." He finished weakly. "Cold, too."

Severus pulled his son to his feet and frowned at McGonagall. The Gryffindor Head of House straightened and parted the students beyond, leading the way into the school. Harry watched her go feeling lost, and a bit afraid.

Strike four. Who's out? Who's trying to kill him?

Harry hated that he didn't know what was going on. Someone was out for Alan's life, someone who was apparently resourceful, and capable of getting at several complicated items. Poison in his food. Discrete spells. Invisibility. And now, a complicated trap of a portkey and that chain. Animated chains were not easy to get a hold of, much less add a portkey to. Harry glanced at Flitwick.

"Shouldn't you get the chain out of the lake, or see if it's even still there?" Harry asked carefully.

Flitwick frowned at the water. "That would be quite deep, but if Professor Dumbledore were to ask the merpeople… I think that would do it. Return to your house, Potter, Prince should be just fine."

Harry had trouble believing him, but wasn't going to not believe him. Pomfrey knew what she was doing; she would have Alan in hand, and Harry had homework to do, much as he loathed the necessity. He could check in on Alan later … after. Ron was silent as Harry caught up with him again, Hermione gently putting her arms around him and walking with him back up to Gryffindor tower, where the party had essentially fallen apart with most of the Quidditch team worried about their friend, no longer gung-ho enough to keep the spirits up. Harry didn't care. He was just worried. Irritably, Harry pulled out his homework and lost himself in the complicated essays they had to complete.

IIII

Alan had severe bruising – again – and damp lungs from inhaling water before he got his arms and wand free, and was kept over the weekend, released on Monday. Harry had to admit whoever was trying had to be sweating bullets. Four serious tries. Each one had failed, and Alan kept jumping back from them, undeterred, unhindered.

They really should have expected it.

Friday had Potions in the morning; Green had them teaming up and working on a potion together – today, Ron had begged Harry to work with him and Harry had acquiesced, if only to see Hermione and Neville working together, so painfully polite to each other that Harry had to stifle his laughter half the time. Working with Alan's additional notes on the potion, Harry and Ron were doing fine. They were three quarters of the way done – the potion was highly unstable and required minute attention to details –

Alan's cauldron exploded.

Harry was knocked out of his seat as Alan fell onto him, screaming hoarsely. Daphne was shrieking in the background, and Harry saw Michael Corner helping Blaise to his feet. He had to swallow hard: Blaise's face was puckered and blistered, brilliantly red. Green was by his side immediately, and threw a thick phial to Harry.

"Pour it over his face, now, get his hands as well!"

Harry fumbled with the phial, too shocked to really think, and Theodore suddenly crouched next to him, forcing the cork out and pouring the viscous fluid over Alan's face and hair. His skin, pale to begin with, was even more painfully red. Theodore stopped after he'd pretty much coated his head, and picked up Alan's hands, which were just as blistered. There was barely enough left. Green stood, Blaise's arm held firmly around his shoulders, Michael Corner bracing his other side.

"Ron, pick up Alan. Try not to brush any of the residue. Neville, you're on the other side. Harry, go find Slughorn in his office and then meet me up at the Hospital wing. God save any of you morons if you do anything in my absence. Don't touch your potions or your equipment. Everyone step back from your tables."

A short glare from him around the room had everyone away from their tables. He doused all the fires and abruptly a shiny barrier appeared around each table.

"Don't try anything against those shields. Hermione, you and Mr. Macmillan are in charge. If anything else happens in here while I'm gone, one of you will be cleaning up this mess by yourself, you got that? Harry, go."

Harry ran out of the room and quickly found the Potions office nearby. He knocked briskly, and Slughorn poked his head out, blinking carefully at Harry's face. He supposed he looked somewhat ghostly, all told, so it wasn't too surprising Slughorn straightened with a firm expression.

"What do you need, Harry?" He asked quickly.

"There was a bad accident during class. Green needs to leave to take Alan and Blaise to the Hospital wing. I assume he wants you to assist with clean up, since the potions are all ruined."

"Very well." Slughorn nodded. "What potion were you making?"

Harry blinked and then shrugged. "Um, it was the Grand Brenthlizen Syrup."

Slughorn looked startled for a moment and then moved a little faster. "I assume the fires were put out?"

"Yes." Harry answered, "and he solidified his barriers or something. Nobody can touch their stuff right now."

"Merlin bless that man's shielding power. Very well. Are you needed elsewhere?"

"I'd like to go check up on Alan." Harry hedged. "Please." Harry stopped outside the door and wrung his hands. He really didn't want to be stuck down here …

"Someone needs to be getting your stuff together." Slughorn pointed out.

"I'll be back before long, I promise. Green told me to meet up with him."

Slughorn's face softened. "Very well. Go."

Harry nodded and turned to run upstairs. There were few people in the halls, a couple seventh years, a few younger students. Harry couldn't get to the Hospital wing fast enough, and he came in, panting slightly and gazing feverishly around the room.

"Harry!"

Harry turned and found himself face to face with Green who frowned down at him. "There are showers in the back room. Go in there and rinse yourself with cold water, clothes and all and pass them out. I've sent a house elf for a change of clothes. You can't leave any of that stuff on you, even if you can't feel it. It's non-reactive to water; get in there."

Harry blinked, stunned, and Green shortly chivvied him back with a threat to start stripping him out there. He was called away by a frantic Poppy, but left Harry with a glare that told him he knew how to make someone do what he wanted no matter how stubborn they were. He'd probably learned it from his brothers dealing with him. Obediently, Harry took the bitingly cold shower, gasping as he waited till he was soaked to strip out of his sopping wet clothes and then rinse off again, stepping out to eagerly towel off and change into the dry clothes laid out. He stepped out and Green singled him out again, frowning and casting several spells his direction. He frowned and, after glancing Poppy's way, strode over.

"Alan and Blaise will be fine. The potion exploded into a corrosive steam; they need to have their skin regrown, as it was as bad as a third degree burn. Both of them will be fine, eyes, hair, skin and all. They'll just be in the hospital wing all weekend. You need to go downstairs and pick up your stuff. If you find any part of you breaking out in a rash, come immediately to the hospital wing. Any transfer might slowly be taking effect if it wasn't fully washed off. Your clothes will be treated and returned to you."

Harry nodded, his throat tight, before Green ushered him out with orders to return to the class. Harry didn't leave immediately, and finally called, "Green!"

Green's red hair gleamed as he turned back, plainly irritated.

"What happened?"

Green flinched and sighed. "One of them messed up for some reason. There's no current way to tell; Poppy knocked them both out and they won't wake until at least tomorrow evening for their own sakes."

Harry winced and nodded, leaving quickly. He wouldn't want to be awake in their condition either. He wandered back down to the dungeons, deep in thought, coming back only to the conclusion that answers would have to wait for Saturday, a thought that didn't leave him very happy.

IIII

Sunday afternoon, when visitors were finally allowed in, didn't hold any real answers either. Alan was ecstatic to see him at least, as he'd become tired of –stubbornly- doing homework through thin gloves since he'd been woken up that morning. Pomfrey wasn't allowing anyone to get near his bed, so all they could do was talk – both his and Blaise's skin was still tender and vulnerable. Harry found it a bit awkward to be talking to him, with his face and hands painfully raw, but toughed it out. He was rewarded by Alan's warm smile.

Alan was better off than Blaise. Blaise had been the one to make the mistake, and he'd been much closer than Alan and he had less of a defensive reflex. His left eye had extensive damage. Pomfrey was saving it, but it was going to take at least a week – Blaise was less than pleased, but vain enough to put up with it. He did have the blessing that his hands were fine; he'd been wearing his dragonhide gloves, gloves Alan had overconfidently left off to work with ingredients – timing that must have been purposeful. When Harry did manage to talk to Blaise, it took several long minutes but he finally got him to answer– he was sure he must have fallen victim to the Imperius. All it had taken was a single action to set the potion off.

The news brought a chill to Harry's spine. If that was the case, this wasn't an accident – it was attempt number five on Alan's life.

A/N: Well, stuff. Explosions, risk of death, fun. Oh, and horcruxes. *grins* Should I offer bonus points for guessing who's trying to kill Alan, or is it too obvious?
Next chapter: More hormones (I know, yuck, but it just happened and I don't know why!) but there's politics and then... *rubs hands together and cackles* Then I can promise you action. *collapses into evil laughter*

Fire & Napalm