Chapter Six: Back to the Bathroom

A/N: Sorry it's been a while. Bad author! (smacks)

Harry froze as the bolt of red light erupted from his wand and hit Snape right on the back of the head.

With a sickening 'thud', Snape fell to the floor of the dungeon. The entire class paused what they were doing and stared at his limp form, too stunned to move. Even the diminished swarm of pixies seemed to pause for a moment.

Harry ignored the pixy tugging on his robes and lowered his wand, horrified. He had knocked out a teacher. He had knocked out Snape! He'd get expelled for this, for sure.

"Oh dear, Potter," said Malfoy, as he emerged smirking from under a bench at the back of the room. "I imagine you'll probably get expelled for that." In the commotion Harry had forgotten about the Polyjuice potion, and he was slightly startled to see Draco looking like him.

"Shut up, Malfoy," Hermione snapped. "Before I do the same to you." After Harry had Stunned Snape, she had hurried to hide the potions ingredients in her bag before moving to Harry's side. "Harry was only trying to stun a pixy. Unlike some people," she added pointedly.

The class had gathered around Snape, each apparently unwilling to be the one to revive him. "What do we do now?" asked Neville, who appeared to be fixated by the sight of Snape's unconscious form and was staring at it, his face rigid with terror.

Hermione raised her wand. "Ennervate," she encanted, and the class seemed to shrink back as Snape's eyes snapped open. Harry had never seen anyone go from a horizontal to vertical position so quickly.

Snape's expression was so icily cold that Harry was sure the temperature had dropped a few degrees. "Who," said Snape in a voice of the utmost forced control, "is responsible for this?" His jaw was clenched tight and Harry noticed with alarm that there was a nerve twitching in his cheek.

Most of the class looked at the ground or seemed to become terribly interested in the activity of the remaining pixies. Draco shot Harry a look of pure vindictiveness. Slowly, Harry raised his hand, still clutching his wand. He was looking at the floor but he could feel Snape's eyes boring into him.

"Potter."

Harry hadn't realised it was possible to imbue one word with so many shades of loathing. Full of dread, he looked up at the cold face of the professor.

"There was a pixie-" he began, trying to compose his face into a picture of honesty, wondering if Snape could tell if he was lying. Knowing what he now did about Snape's skills at Legilimency, he wondered if it was even worth trying.

"A pixie," said Snape shortly. "Mr Potter, you are no better at deception now than you have ever been.

"There was, Professor-" burst out Hermione hotly.

"I saw it too," added Neville staunchly, visibly quailing when Snape turned cold eyes on him.

"I see." Snape's voice positively dripped with bitter sarcasm. "…and did anyone else see this pixie that Potter so clumsily managed to miss?"

There was a long silence, during which most of the students looked at the floor to avoid Snape's stare. When the pause had become almost unbearable Snape's voice broke the silence.

"I thought not." He strode to the front of the class and Vanished some papers. "Granger, Malfoy, as prefects I'm leaving you in charge of the class. If anyone leaves this dungeon before the lesson is over, the entire class will be in detention for a week."

Hermione nodded mutely and Draco gave a sickening smile as he answered, "Yes, Professor." Somehow Harry didn't think this boded well for him. Sure enough, Snape, still pale with anger, loomed in front of Harry's desk.

"Gather your things, Potter," he said. "I'm taking you to the Headmaster."

Snape didn't speak a word to Harry all the way to Dumbledore's office, and he strode along so quickly Harry practically had to jog to keep up with him.

When they reached the entrance Snape gave the password ('toffee apple') and told Harry grimly to wait. With a last dark look, he disappeared from sight up the spiral staircase.

Harry leaned back against the cold wall and closed his eyes. He felt cold and slightly sick. No matter how he thought about it, there was no getting around the fact that he, Harry Potter, had actually Stunned Snape. Had anyone even done that before? Surely not even the Weasley twins had gone that far in their pursuit of mischief.

The image of the tall black form dropping to the dungeon floor replayed itself over and over in Harry's mind, closely followed by the image of himself leaving Hogwarts forever, dragging his trunk behind him. Would he really have to leave? Would the Dursleys take him back? And, worst thought of all, how would he ever see Ginny again?

Harry was still trying to collect his fevered thoughts when the gargoyle outside Dumbledore's door swung inwards, and the wooden spiral staircase descended into the gap. Harry hesitated.

"Well go on, they haven't got all day," said a dry voice from behind him. Harry turned and saw Phineas Nigellus sauntering into an empty portrait.

"Do you know-" began Harry, but Nigellus interrupted him tersely.

"Hurry up, boy. Do you imagine the Headmaster of Hogwarts has nothing better to do than sit around and wait for someone like you?"

Harry shut his mouth and climbed aboard the spiral staircase, which immediately propelled him upwards towards Dumbledore's office.

When he reached the top the door to the office was open and he could see Dumbledore inside, sitting behind his desk. Harry entered nervously. The headmaster didn't exactly look angry, but you could never tell with Dumbledore.

"Sit down, Harry," said Dumbledore, shutting the door behind Harry with a wave of his hand.

Snape was standing in a corner, glaring at him. "Headmaster, might I ask-" he began as Harry sat down. Harry noticed Snape's still-livid countenance with a spurt of hope. If Harry had been expelled then surely Snape would be looking more cheerful?

"Professor Snape, you know my thoughts on this matter," interrupted Dumbledore with an air of finality. Then he turned to Harry. His eyes were grave, and looking into their placid depths Harry got the impression he already knew there was more to this. "Harry, I would like you to explain to me what happened in the dungeon just now."

"Well, someone… somehow some pixies got loose in the classroom, so we were helping to get rid of them," he began. "And I was trying to stun one when S- Professor Snape got in the way, and it hit him but I swear it wasn't meant to, Professor. It was an accident!"

"I see." Dumbledore sat back and for what seemed like an age he seemed to contemplate the delicate silver paperweight in front on him. Snape cleared his throat. "Well, Harry," said Dumbledore suddenly, "from what Professor Snape has told me there is no evidence to indicate that this was anything more than an unfortunate accident." Harry looked at Snape, who had gone a sort of puce colour. When he looked back at Dumbledore he met a penetrating stare. "I would advise you to be more careful in future, Harry. If you truly wish to study to be an Auror you will have to learn to control your curses far more carefully."

"Yes, Professor." Harry's heart beat wildly in relief. He didn't dare look at Snape.

"You may go now, Harry," continued the headmaster. "Just remember what I've said."

There was a conspicuous silence as Harry left the room and got onto the spiral staircase. He got the feeling Snape would have a lot to say as soon as he was out of earshot.

Harry was deep in thought as he hurried towards the Great Hall. Just wait until he told Ron what had happened! As he crossed the entrance hall Harry spotted Ginny amongst a group of people. Desperately he tried to walk past, but his legs seemed to have developed a life of their own, steering him helplessly towards her group. An involuntary smile sprang to his lips at the sight of her.

As Harry approached the group, mostly Gryffindors in Ginny's year, they fell oddly silent.

"Hi Ginny," he said, a trifle unsurely. Her face darkened, and Harry felt a twinge in his gut. "What?"

"What do you want, Malfoy?" asked Dean Thomas, stepping forward. Of course! In all the excitement he'd forgotten his hour wasn't quite up, and Snape had been so angry he'd let him go anyway.

"It's not Malfoy-" he began, but then he saw the protective hand Dean had placed on Ginny's arm when he stepped forward, and felt a stab of physical pain in his chest to rival the pain he felt inside. Suddenly it didn't seem worth explaining. Nothing seemed worth explaining, and all he wanted to do was escape. "Never mind," he mumbled and hurried, head down, into the Great Hall to find Hermione and Ron.

Ron was alone when Harry reached the Gryffindor table, and from the blank looks he received when he sat down realised to his dismay that Hermione and the rest of the Potions class must not have got there yet.

"Malfoy, what-?" Ron began, his face a picture of bemusement and disgust.

"It's me, Harry," Harry began impatiently. "We did Polyjuice in Potions, Hermione will tell you."

"Malfoy…" Ron started again, half getting to his feet, but to Harry's relief Hermione chose that moment to arrive behind him.

"Ron, don't hit Malfoy, it's Harry," she said breathlessly. "And he Stunned Snape, and I got the stuff, and a pixie stole one of the gnarl quills, but I don't think it'll matter. Harry, how did it go with Dumbledore?"

"Polyjuice… and what pixies? And how - hang on, you Stunned Snape?"

Harry grinned. "Yeah, he was about to catch Hermione. But Dumbledore let me off."

Ron's expression at that moment could quite accurately have been described as one of undiluted delirium, and it was a full ten minutes before Hermione could even begin to persuade him to concentrate on the matter at hand.

"The problem is," Hermione said, frowning, "where do we brew it?"

"'Seasy," Ron mumbled through a mouthful of shepherd's pie. On seeing Hermione's disgusted expression he quickly swallowed. "That's easy," he repeated. "Where do we usually go to brew things we're not allowed?"

That evening they could hear Myrtle's wails echoing down the corridor as they rounded the corner towards her bathroom. Harry winced as a particularly piercing note made the pipes vibrate. "We need to find a new place for this kind of thing," Ron grumbled loudly over the sounds of weeping.

Myrtle's crying subsided to a soft whimper as she emerged from her cubicle and saw who had come in. "What are you doing here?" she whined between sniffles. "I thought you were too good to come and see me now.'"

Ron, to whom the comment seemed to be directed, coughed nervously. "Er, hello Myrtle. We've just come to make a potion."

Two large round tears welled up in the ghost's eyes. "I should have known. You hate me, of course you didn't come to say hello!" she wailed, and dived with a splash down the nearest toilet.

"Seriously," muttered Ron. "Anywhere will do. Anywhere at all."

Hermione had soon set up a cauldron and tripod over a slow-burning flame, and began to add the ingredients, pausing every so often to refer to the instructions she had copied out. "It should be done by Wednesday or Thursday," she said as she showed Ron how to chop the vervain roots properly.

"So you can cure him before the match with Slytherin on Saturday?" said Ron, looking happy, and Harry, who was perching on a wash-basin feeling useless, suddenly perked up.

Hermione frowned. "Honestly, is Quidditch all you think about? But yes, hopefully I'll be able to make an antidote by Saturday." She frowned. "Of course, I should really be working on my extra Transfiguration-" Catching a look from Ron, she stopped. "Obviously this is more important," she finished hurriedly.

Harry let his head sink into his hands as Ron and Hermione carried on with the potion. He had offered to help, but when his mind had wandered to Ginny and he'd almost sliced his finger instead of a gnarl quill, Hermione had banished him over here to watch. Only he wasn't watching, because he couldn't seem to stop thinking about Ginny and Dean laughing together, and Dean's hand on her arm, and how stupid he must have looked standing there and staring-

"Harry?" Ron's voice penetrated his tortured reverie.

"Hmmm?"

"I said are you still up for Quidditch practice first thing tomorrow?"

"Oh yeah, sure," he replied vaguely. Ginny would be there. She looked good in Quidditch robes, he remembered, athletic and windswept with her hair all coming out of its ponytail, all rosy-cheeked from the exercise. And she always had this glow about her after flying, the same as he felt, a warm happy feeling that even though he was exhausted he'd been doing what he loved best.

"Harry? Bloody hell, he's gone again. HARRY!"

"Sorry, what?"

Ron gave a very Hermione-ish eye roll. "Never mind. Go to bed mate, you look knackered."

"I'm fine," Harry attempted to say through a giant yawn.

"Seriously mate, as your captain, I'm telling you we need you awake tomorrow. Go to bed!"

Harry didn't need telling three times, and an hour later he was in bed. He'd earned some funny looks when he told the other Gryffindor 6th year boys he was retiring at nine o'clock, but at least he was left in peace to sleep. He was afraid tonight might be another case of lying awake for hours, but after a few minutes of indulging in blissful thoughts of Ginny, which brought a warm feeling to his stomach, he dropped into a deep slumber.

Harry was dreaming. Ginny was inside a giant soap bubble, and she kept floating away from him, yet always seemed just within reach of his grasping fingertips. He couldn't quite see her properly, she was partially obscured by the bubble's iridescence, but she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, and all he wanted to do was reach out to her. The bubble was suddenly floating up through the branches of the Whomping Willow, and Harry's efforts took on a new urgency as he began to climb the tree after her. Suddenly a horrible wailing sound filled Harry's head and he found himself slipping and sliding uncontrollably, until he hit something hard with a bump.

Disorientated, Harry looked around. He was on the common room floor, how did that happen? And where was that siren noise coming from? He rubbed his eyes confusedly. Somebody turned a light on, and there was the sound of giggling.

A number of people were peering round the door leading to the male dormitories on the other side of the – hang on. On the other side of the common room. Which meant that the steps he'd just slid down…

"HARRY," came Ron's enraged voice as his friend pushed through the gaggle of people. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING TRYING TO GET INTO THE GIRLS DORMITORIES?"

A/N: Oops, Harry. Now that was silly, wasn't it? ;)