Chapter Four

Harry, being the universe's spittoon (so far no one had corrected him for saying so), had no choice but to make a showy, dramatic entrance. Escaping the whore house was a difficult venture for those, not being blackmailed and sponsored by sick old pedophiles, and so for him it was downright dangerous. A number of the other whores were paid by their 'owner' specifically to keep the others from running. In return, their schedules were almost empty, so they made sure to be thorough. Their eyes were especially sharp on Harry, who was well liked and brought in a lot of money. The escape had cost him a black eye, a bruised neck, a broken ankle, and a bullet to the abdomen. All told he was lucky that only one of the bastards had pulled his gun and that Angela lived only three blocks away. He was even luckier that one of her older brothers was a wizard, who had gone to Salem's Academy in the States where his dad had lived, and moved to Britain after his death to be with his siblings. Wanting a quick and easy route to his mother's house, he had her connected to the Floo Network and left a small jar of Floo Powder on their mantle for his own use. So it was after a small tussle (read two on one, terribly uneven due-to-injuries, tackle match), and a bit of verbal assertion (read screaming courtesy of Angela), that the two managed to Floo to Grimmauld Place, where her brothers couldn't follow, and from there to Hogwarts Great Hall, where they arrived, more than slightly ragged and covered in soot and blood.

Again, chaos was prevalent until Remus stood to officiate. Dumbledore, wisely, hadn't done more than lean forward and place a firm on the Potters' shoulders to hold them back when he saw them jumping to their feet with the rest of Hall's occupants. Remus raced towards the front of the group and was allowed, reluctantly, to hover over the young man as Angela began to fluster about worriedly. Without a moments hesitation the werewolf called for Lily.

"Harry, you need to be healed," he said firmly in answer to the confused look he was given, surely in response to the name he had just shouted. "Ignore who casts the spells, just let them work!"

The glare continued, vague and unfocused, just as it had begun, unwavering. He did a wonderful job of ignoring his mother who bustled about healing and muttering obscenities over each injury and the blood that seeped from the hole in his right side. Her piercing green gaze flitted from the bullet wound to the ankle to the black eye to the hand shaped shadows circling his neck, furious at the sight of her son, but making not a sound above her breath for others, except perhaps Harry, to hear.

Angela didn't do quite as well. "You can fix this, right? He'll be okay? If he doesn't come out alright I will slit each and every one of your throats in the night!" She went on to issue more threats and worried inquiries, even after Ron and Hermione pulled her to the side to allow Mrs. Potter easier access to her son, and to give her a once over herself. The poor girl had blood all down the front of her shirt, matting her dark purple hair where she must have her hands through the locks, and smeared on her hands and face. Her frightened tears mixed with her black eyeliner to make disturbingly artful tracks through the blood on her cheeks. Discreetly, Hermione waved her wand and banished the mess.

Misters Weasley and Granger were physically restraining James, who had broken away from the Headmaster the second his wife reached Harry, and Sirius, who was trying to race to his godson. Both quite perturbed at being held up. The older duo won eventually, just as Lily finished and Harry (now only slightly hunched over, favoring the shot wound), attempted to calm down his friend.

"Angela," he said, firmly at first. She responded by poking him in various places as if checking for pain. All she found was annoyance which prompted her to continue, in the hopes of ridding them both of some stress with humor, but Harry grabbed at her arms immediately, not at all in the mood for games.

"Go sit down," he said.

"Sit down? You dare tell me to sit down? Like some inattentive child!"

"Yes. Sit down, Angela" He was angry now, so, being intelligent as she was, Angela merely glared and turned to the table, jerking her hands from his harsher than necessary in order to make her point. Quickly, she sat down next to Luna with a conversational 'is this seat taken?' and was content to pretend to ignore everything else said for the rest of the evening.

Harry glared at her back until she pulled a salad bowl towards her and was shoveling the greens onto her plate. Stone faced, he turned to Dumbledore.

"My wand, please, Headmaster." His voice was strained and furious and perfectly level. Albus almost feared answering. "…Or the pieces."

Finally the Headmaster stood fully, and produced a small red box from the sleeves of his robe. Silently, he came around the table and opened the box, holding it out to Harry once he reached him.

"Strangely enough," he began in almost a whisper. "None of the wands would allow themselves to be broken."

As Harry took his box, Albus moved on to the others, producing three more boxes from his enchanted sleeves. Harry stared at his wand, grimly turning it his hands, feeling it out. Ron tested his grip and grinned at Hermione, who gave him a watery smile, and Cassie, who grinned back. Neville twirled his around his fingers and happily levitated a bread roll. Ron quickly followed suit, only he chose a bowl of soup, which hovered precariously over Percy Weasley's head. Luna rolled hers between her hands and airily tucked the stick behind her ear, and continued eating her roast.

"Expecto Patronum." He said it quietly, yet again the entire room heard, their ears attuned for their friend and savior's voice, and all eyes turned to Harry, and the large silver wolf that had come from his wand. Remus had to steady himself and forced air into his lungs as he heard Hermione whisper.

"It's a werewolf." He had no idea he meant so much to Harry. He could feel tears welling behind his eyes as the ethereal specter sniffed slowly around the Hall, looking for the threat.

James and Sirius stared sadly, betrayed. Moony and Padfoot had enthusiastically told James of his son's Patronus, and now it had changed.

The stony silence was broken a few moments later when Ron let go of the soup bowl, and the uproar began. Each Weasley jumped to his or her feet, and began to yell in one form or another. They were joined by Hermione, Cassie, and Dumbledore, none of whom had any luck in quelling the infamous Weasley tempers.

"Ronald Weasley! WHAT ON EARTH DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?"

"WHAT'S IT LOOK LIKE I'M DOING?"

"Ron, I really don't think that was necess-"

"That was entirely necessary! You people can't just go around pretending you've never made mistakes!"

"WHO SAYS WE'VE NEVER –"

"MADE MISTAKES? WE'VE MADE –"

"PLENTY OF MIS –"

"WHO ARE YOU TO TELL US HOW TO BE? YOU DON'T KNOW US!"

"Everybody! Please, just stop!"

"WELL, I DO KNOW YOU AND I KNOW THAT PERCY IS THE BIGGEST PRAT OF YOU ALL!"

"That doesn't mean he deserves to have beef stew dumped on his head, Ron!"

"Yes, it does!"

"GINNY!"

"Well, it does!"

On the outskirts of what amounted to a mini-mosh pit, Harry called to Dobby in a low voice.

"I don't suppose the Headmaster prepared rooms for us, did he, Dobby?" He asked. The small creature's ears wiggled as he bounced happily on the balls of his feet.

"Oh, yes, sirs Mr. Harry Potter, sir!" he exclaimed proudly, "Dobby has done, Mr. Harry Potter's room personally, he has, sir."

"Really? That's wonderful, Dobby. It really is," Harry said still clutching his side. "Can you take me there? And Angela" he added, pointing out his friend who was looking in on the Weasleys brawl with amused alarm.

Dobby took a good long look at this new friend of the 'Greatest Wizard Alive'. Harry didn't know what kind of conclusions his little green friend was drawing about his relationship with the younger girl, but he really didn't care. He'd had worse bedmates than Angela (he knew that even if he'd never shared a bed with her before – he'd slept with some horrible people) and he could probably get something worked out for her if she wanted tomorrow. Separate beds at the least.

"Yes, sir, Mr. Harry Potter, sir!"

"Thank you so much, Dobby. Just let me go get her and we'll go."

"Ange," he whispered in his friend's ear, "I need to sleep. Are you gonna come with me?"

She turned away from the show to face him, fork full of pot roast still in her mouth.

"I guess so," she grumbled, "I couldn't find my way around here by myself."

"If you want to keep eating, you can," he answered glaring at the fork still in her mouth. "Just call for Dobby when you're finished and he can show you to the room."

He pointed Dobby out and smiled at her expression. It was unlikely her brother had even ever seen a House Elf, and she would never have heard of one. Bradley rarely talked of anything to do with the magical world, not even in those few years he was a happy and eager citizen. She gasped and immediately started coughing to get the roast out of her throat. Harry thumped her a few times on the back and smiled again.

"You know you really should swallow your food before you start talking."

The purple haired girl glared at her friend, and set her fork down in distaste. The Weasleys were finally beginning to calm down with Ginny having broken the ice.

"I'm still hungry," she decided. Harry nodded and turned to go.

"Harry?" Harry turned back around.

"Hey, Hermione."

"Where are you going?" she asked, looking very worried. Again Harry smiled. It was good to see Hermione again, even worried.

"Just to bed, 'Mione. I'm exhausted." Her face softened and turned sympathetic. He had lost an awful lot of blood, and was very pale. Of course he would want to sleep.

"Oh…Well, alright, then," she said walking towards him and opening her arms for a hug. "I'll see you in the morning, okay."

He hugged her firmly, fighting the nervousness that built within him at the idea of physical contact.

"'Night."

"Sleep well, alright."

Harry turned to go again and almost groaned when he heard a light, sweet voice casually tell him goodnight, instead he turned, smiled, and returned Luna's sentiments sincerely. Honestly, he was amazed. He had smiled a lot in the last half hour, and hadn't had to fake any of them. However, Luna's attentions, nice though they were, succeeded in drawing the rest of the rooms' attention, and he was treated to a tentative chorus of goodnight's, sleep tight's, sweet dreams', and you're leavings?' mostly from people he didn't care to deal with just yet. He did get to leave though. And he did get to collapse into a wonderfully soft bed with warming spells on the sheets.

He woke slowly the next morning from a deep dreamless sleep, unconsciously savoring the weight of the blankets above him and the soft pillowing beneath him. Angela snored quietly next to him, keeping well to her side of the bed and hogging more than her fair share of the blankets if the corner he was clutching for dear life was any indication.

Hurray for chapter 4! I hope you guy and gals out there enjoyed it. Let me know what you thought! hint hint REVIEW!