Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine but Stroper…lucky me…NOT!
Warning: This chapter contains curse words, alcohol use (obvious if you read the title), and the mention of cutting.
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Where Do I Go From Here?
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Chap. 7 Fighting Slytherins and Alcohol
Harry stood in a darkened corridor, just minutes after returning the dishes to the kitchen. He had been on his way back to Gryffindor tower, hoping that he would meet no one on the way considering how late it was, but halfway there he heard the low rumble of voices from up ahead, and had hid in the first spot he could find. Unfortunately, there were no tapestries or statues to hide behind, and the corridor led nowhere; it merely ended a few meters from where it started and held nothing but closed and locked doors.
The voices got closer and Harry pressed his body into the shadows, bumping his head against the wall with a thump as he backed up too far. The voice that had been talking suddenly grew quiet, and Harry held his breath in fear that he had been heard. But when the low chatter resumed moments later, Harry blew his breath out in relief, and he strained his ears to listen intently to the words being said in his effort to identify the speaker.
The male voice spoke again, and Harry felt as if his heart had lodged in his throat. Of all the people who he could have run into after curfew, it just had to be Malfoy! And to make matters worse, he knew the boy had been made a prefect; Ron had complained about that very fact for over an hour that morning.
Harry pushed himself tighter up against the stone wall as Malfoy rounded a corner and started heading down the main corridor, right in Harry's direction. He could hear the footsteps stop just beyond the hallway where he was hiding, and after a few minutes of silence, he cautiously stuck his head forward, catching a glimpse of the individuals standing so close now. Yes, it was definitely Malfoy, but the other person was some girl with long, brown hair that she all tied up neatly in a ponytail. Harry didn't know the girl's name, but he was able to tell from the colors she wore that she was a Ravenclaw. He had seen her around before, but what would she be doing with Malfoy?
His question was answered a moment later when Draco wrapped an arm around her and pulled her closer. Harry watched as Draco slid his hands provocatively over the girl's body and then he drew his face up in disgust as the pale Slytherin began kissing the girl, and he withdrew into the shadows, having no desire whatsoever to watch his rival making out with some girl. Soon, Harry could hear the two say goodnight to each other, and Harry leaned forward again, just in time to see the girl head off, presumably in the direction of her common room.
She had just disappeared from view when Draco spoke out loud.
"So, Potter, is this what you usually do with your spare time?"
Harry almost jumped in alarm at having been spoken to so abruptly when he had thought himself well hidden, and he clutched his wand at his side as he stepped out of his hiding spot. Draco turned to face him, with his wand in hand as well, and the Slytherin sneered in contempt at the boy in front of him.
"I know you were watching us. Did you like the show?"
Harry had no answer to that, and he raised his wand slightly, ready for anything.
"You're such a pervert, Potter. Wait until I tell the whole of Slytherin that Gryffindor's Golden Boy gets his kicks watching others make out from where he hides around corners."
"I wasn't watching you!" Harry tried his best to sound defiant, but the slight shakiness of his voice just made the comment sound feeble more than anything else, and he bit his lip in anger at himself for sounding so weak.
"The hell you weren't, Potter. You were there watching us the whole time. Admit it."
"Fuck you!" Harry turned on his heel, so desperate to get out of the confrontation that he didn't care whether he was heading in the right direction or not. He had only made a few steps in that route when he heard Malfoy's voice behind him utter something in indecipherable to Harry's ears; but when a purple light shot over his shoulder, hitting the stone wall to his right, he knew that the Slytherin had fired a spell. Once he realized what was happening, but before he was able to turn to defend himself, he heard the boy mutter something else and Harry cringed in expectation of some form of pain.
Suddenly, a loud, gruff sounding voice called out a spell unknown to Harry, and for a moment, he was encased in a glowing blue bubble that dissipated after absorbing the spell Malfoy had shot at him. Harry slowly raised his head to see who his defender was, but all he could see were dark robes hanging from around someone's shoulders. He looked past the man's back and could see Malfoy fleeing, and he stood stock still as the man turned to face him.
He was shocked when he realized that it was Stroper standing there. The man was grinning as he tucked his wand away, and Harry found himself unable to say more than a quiet 'thank you' to the man when he stopped in front of him. Stroper looked Harry up and down and grabbed him by the arm, leading him up the corridor as if he were a wayward child.
"W-where are we going, Sir?" Harry stammered out, and he cringed a little when Stroper peered at him from over his shoulder and gave him a calculating look.
"We're going to my office."
Harry waited for a while for the man to say more, but Stroper remained silent as they continued their walk through the empty halls of Hogwarts, the only sounds being the rhythmic footfalls of the man's boots on the stone floor. He was getting more anxious by the minute, so he finally got the nerve to ask, "But why? I've not done anything wrong."
Stroper raised an eyebrow at him and reminded him, "Isn't it past curfew?"
Harry gulped as he remembered, and he spent the rest of the journey getting more and more nervous in fear of what the man would do to him. He barely paid attention to where they were going, and it seemed as if just an instant had passed before they were both standing in front of the door to the man's office.
Harry watched as Stroper raised his wand and tapped the tip of it against the doorknob, which glowed slightly before a barely audible click sounded, signaling that the door was now unlocked. The professor swung the door open and guided Harry in, depositing him onto a straight-backed wooden chair that sat next to the desk. Harry sat silently in wait as the man then walked around and sat in his own chair. When Harry heard his Professor 'humph' he slowly raised his gaze to him.
Stroper was giving Harry a slightly quizzical look as he commented, "Geez, boy, you act as if I were about to use you as bait for Death Eaters."
The statement was meant as a joke, but Stroper watched as the boy's eyes got big and he was quick to explain.
"You do realize I said that merely in jest, don't you?"
Harry's cheeks reddened a bit as he answered, "Yes, Sir." The truth of the matter was that, considering the man's line of work, Harry had assumed that Stroper might just do that. Any further thought on that, however, was cut short as the man spoke again.
"Also, you should know that you're not in any trouble tonight; not for being out past curfew, nor for your altercation with Malfoy."
Harry picked up on the amount of distain used when Stroper said Draco's last name, and he sent his professor a questioning look. Stroper understood the silent inquiry, and he clarified, "That little snot is the son of a Death Eater."
Harry knew this, but he didn't interrupt as Stroper continued to talk.
"I have gone up to the ministry myself to testify about Lucius Malfoy's involvement with You-Know-Who, for all the good it did. You know, I've seen that man with my own eyes consorting with other known Death Eaters, but apparently, that makes no difference at all as long as Lucius is there with enough money to line the pockets of everyone from Fudge on down."
Harry was relieved that at least one professor in the school shared his view where the Malfoys were concerned, and he was able to relax a little with that knowledge. He leaned forward in his seat and asked, "Sir, if I'm not in trouble, why did you bring me to your office?"
"I figured it would be safer for you to wait a while before heading back. Malfoy ran off before I had a chance to hex the little prat, so he very well could be waiting for you somewhere in-route to Gryffindor tower. I didn't think you'd be so keen on dealing with an ambush by a fellow student this late at night."
"Oh." The thought had not even occurred to him, but now that he thought about it, that did sound like something Draco might do. "How long should I stay then, Sir?"
"I'd say for at least the next half-hour or so."
Harry didn't mind too much. At least this way, he wouldn't have to deal with any of his dorm mates, and he would have a valid excuse to give them for why he was getting back so late. But then a thought occurred to him and he asked, "But, Sir, won't I get in trouble if anyone finds out. I thought we could only stay up past curfew if we were in detention. Professor McGonagall will have been notified when I left my detention tonight. She'll know I didn't go straight back to the tower."
"Don't worry about it, Harry. If she asks, just tell her I had you start your training early."
Stroper wanted him to lie to Professor McGonagall? That woman knew everything when it came to her precious Gryffindors; how would he be able to get away with something like that?
Stroper picked up on the indecisiveness on Harry's face and was quick to reassure him, "I told you not to worry about it. No one will know you're not training. Both this room and the classroom beyond are spelled with protective wards to prevent anyone from hearing anything that goes on from within whenever the doors are closed. I've even removed the portraits from the walls of both rooms."
Stroper let a self-satisfied look cross his face as he continued, "I set it up that way as a privacy measure. Call me paranoid if you like, but you don't last long in my usual line of work without being at least a little over-zealous when it comes to those sorts of things. After all, spies could be anywhere, even in a castle as protected as this one."
Harry didn't know whether the man was referring solely to the few children of Death Eaters that attended, or whether the man was referring to others. But then Snape came to mind and Harry couldn't help but wonder who would win that fight if Stroper ever crossed wands with Hogwarts' most feared professor. Unable to help the snort of amusement that escaped his lips, Harry quickly looked up to see that Stroper was once again staring at him. He straightened up in his chair and tried to ignore it, but he felt as if the man's eyes were burning holes into him with the intensity of the gaze and he squirmed uncomfortably in his seat.
"What's the matter with you, Boy? You seem awfully jumpy."
Stroper's observation came out sounding like an accusation, at least to Harry's ears, and he cast about for an excuse as he fidgeted in his seat.
"Uh, it's nothing, really. I guess it's just from having been surprised by Malfoy like that."
Harry knew that his explanation sounded ridiculous, but he never had been able to come up with good excuses on the spot like that. That particular talent had always been more Ron or Hermione's forte than his own, and he could tell that Stroper wasn't convinced.
The only acknowledgement that Stroper gave in return was a small grunt as the man hoisted himself from his seat and walked over to a tall wooden cabinet in the back of the room. From where he was sitting, Harry could barely make out the intricate designs carved all over the fronts of the darkly stained cabinet doors, and he could see nothing of what the man was doing once the doors swung open. The shelves within, along with the many small bottles sitting on them, were hidden from view as Stroper stepped closer to the cabinet, blocking everything contained in the mysterious cabinet from sight.
The tinkle of glass against glass sounded through the room as Stroper turned from the cabinet and headed back to his desk, the cabinet doors swinging closed of their own accord before Harry could see any more. Harry returned his attention back to Professor Stroper, and he saw that the man was now holding a filled glass cup in each hand.
Stroper sat one of the cups in front of Harry before sitting back down in his own seat, the amber liquid within his cup sloshing a little over the edge of the glass with the momentum of the movement. But the man didn't seem to mind, and he tipped his glass in Harry's direction and said, "Drink up, Harry. It will settle your nerves."
Harry slid his glass closer and peered inside it, wondering to himself if there was any way out of this situation. First of all, he wasn't sure what was in the cup. He figured it was some type of liquor, but surely, the professor would not willingly give him something like that…would he?
Harry tipped the cup from side to side a little, letting the liquid slosh back and forth some as he pondered what to do, but then he reasoned that if Dumbledore trusted this man, than perhaps he should, too. Besides, what harm could one little glass of this stuff do to him?
Having never had any type of alcoholic beverage before, curiosity got the better of him, and he raised the cup to his lips and took a sip. Almost immediately, he spit the small mouthful of stuff back out, spraying the desktop in front of him with a splattering of the strong tasting liquor. Stroper burst out laughing and Harry could feel his face heat in embarrassment.
The last thing Harry wanted was yet another person thinking he was stupid and weak, so with his brow lowered in a look of determination, he took a deep breath, raised the cup to his lips again, and drank as quickly as he could. His free hand clenched into a tight fist at the first swallow of the foul concoction, and Harry could feel the stuff burn its way over his tongue and down his throat. He was able to get down almost a quarter of the glass before quickly setting it down. Coughing and spluttering so hard his eyes began to tear up, Harry was already regretting his rash decision.
He chanced a look up as soon as his coughing fit subsided and noticed how pleased Stroper seemed to be. Perhaps, thought Harry, I did the right thing. Deciding that he was glad he had shown his professor that he was able to do it after all, Harry took another deep breath, readying himself for another sip. The next few mouthfuls went down easier than the ones before it, and Harry relaxed as the alcohol began to make him feel mellow.
Stroper didn't talk much as the minutes ticked by, merely asking Harry a question every now and then. At first, Harry would only give the man short answers, still too nervous to say more than a few words at a time, but before long, Harry found himself telling Stroper all about Hogwarts.
Harry had just started telling the professor about Moaning Myrtle when he drank the last bit from his cup. He looked back at Stroper and realized that the man still had most of his drink left. Shrugging it off, he began explaining why everyone avoids that particular bathroom on the fifth floor when he noticed how slurred his words came out. He stopped talking almost immediately.
Deciding it was just an effect of the alcohol, Harry pushed it to the back of his mind. But when he tried to shift in his seat to make himself more comfortable, he discovered he was having trouble coordinating his movement, his limbs feeling as if lead weights had been tied to them. Now, he was truly alarmed, and he struggled to rise from his seat as his sight began to blur.
Harry finally managed to stand upright, his hands gripping the desktop so tightly his knuckles were white, but then spots of blackness began to swim before his eyes. Trying to yell out in his alarm, he panicked when the only noise that came out was a feeble, inarticulate sound that was more like the call of a half-dead kitten than a plea for help.
Falling forward onto the desk, and then sliding down to the floor, Harry desperately sought out his professor, finally getting a glimpse of the man just before hitting the stones below. The last thing Harry saw before everything turned black was Stroper's stoic face as he sat passively in his seat, watching as Harry finally lost his fight with the oncoming darkness.
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Light was hitting Harry's eyes, and he groaned out as pain shot through his head in matching rhythm to his heartbeat. Bringing his arms up and shielding his face from the light, he blinked a few times and looked around in confusion. Where am I, he wondered. He slowly picked himself up from the floor, holding onto the wall as he did so, afraid that he would fall if he did not do so. The dizziness faded away after a few minutes, and Harry looked around trying to sort out his thoughts.
He realized he was in one of Hogwarts' many corridors, and judging from the view from the nearby window, he was about four or five floors up. Walking a few paces to the end of the corridor, he turned the corner and realized where he was; for at the end of the next corridor was the door to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Yes, he thought, I do remember something last night that had to do with Myrtle's bathroom…But for the life of him, he could not remember any other details.
Scratching his head in confusion, Harry stumbled his way toward the closest set of stairs that would take him to Gryffindor tower. On the way to his dorm, he finally came to the conclusion that he must have fallen asleep in one of the corridors on his way back from Snape's detention the night before.
Stopping just outside the portrait of the Fat Lady, Harry stretched his arms and legs, wondering if his sore, stiff muscles were due to having spent the night sleeping on the stone floor. He shook his head in bewilderment and said the password. Making his way through the portrait hole, he ignored the astonished gasps of a few third year students who he passed, and he trudged up the steps to his dorm room.
To his relief, he entered the room and found it blessedly empty. He pulled out his wand, and after a quick Tempus charm, Harry discovered that the rest of his dorm mates must be down in the Great Hall for breakfast. Grabbing a few items from his trunk, Harry made his way to the bathroom for a quick shower. He had decided that a nice long spray of cold water might ease some of the tiredness from his body and see him through yet another day of classes.
It wasn't until he passed by the mirror over one of the sinks that he realized just why those third years had reacted like they had. In his haste to return to the dorm, he had forgotten to recast his glamour charm like he was supposed to that morning. He sifted through the belongings he had brought into the bathroom with him and pulled out his wand. Locking the bathroom door, he took a few moments to study his reflection in the mirror and almost didn't recognize himself. His hair was even wilder looking than usual, and his pale skin was highlighted with several small, dark bruises that were littered about his neck and chest, clearly visable through the gap at the top of his partially unbuttoned shirt.
He grazed a finger over the marks and winced at the soreness the action caused. He stopped with a finger still hovering over the mark near his left shoulder. He didn't remember getting these marks at all. Leaning closer to the mirror, Harry followed the shape of the largest mark with his fingertip and was perplexed when he noticed that the shape was almost like that of a bite mark.
Not knowing what to think about the situation, Harry stepped into the shower and turned on the tap. Cold water blasted out and he gasped as the chilly spray made contact with his skin. He finished as quickly as he could and hurried to get dressed. Stopping once again in front of the mirror on his way out, Harry cast his glamour charm, grimacing a little as he watched his reflection warp and then solidify into the image that he now hid behind. Just the remembrance of why he was forced to do such a thing had him reaching for his knife as soon as he could get back to his trunk.
Meanwhile, several third year Gryffindor students were knocking on the office door to their Head of House, and were surprised when the door opened, revealing not only Professor McGonagall, but also both of Gryffindor's prefects where they sat at their Head's desk.
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A/N: This chapter was a lot easier to write than the last one was. I know this one is a tad shorter than the last one, but I've had a total of 9 kids at my house since Friday, and all of them under the age of 13…AHHH! What was I thinking?! I'm letting some kids from the children's home stay here for a week, so it's been crazy here and I was lucky to find any time to write at all. And on top of it all, my husband is having surgery today, so I'm writing this as I'm waiting for word from the doctor on how the surgery went.
I will try to have the next chapter posted by July 9th, but I can't make any promises about that yet. After that date, I'll be leaving on vacation for a week and a half to stay in a cabin in the middle of the woods with NO t.v., No phone, and absolutely No chance of having a way for me to access the internet. So, if I don't have the next chapter posted by the 9th, then it will unfortunately have to wait until I get back. Sorry all. I will try very hard to have the next chapter posted by then.
Now, one of my readers brought up the question about why Ron and Hermione didn't notice the new scar on Harry's palm, and I wanted to explain my reasoning in case anyone else was wondering the same thing. Even though Ron and Harry are close, how often do you examine your best friend's palms? They just didn't notice yet. After all, they've only been back to school for one day. Snape noticed because he was looking for something, and since Harry was washing cauldrons, it drew Snape's attention to his hands.
Lastly, I would like my faithful readers to let me know what they would like to see in the next couple of chapters…Do you want more Malfoy interaction? Perhaps a visit from Remus? Maybe Snape should confront Harry himself?
Please let me know, and I'll tailor the next chapter to whichever idea gets the biggest response.
Also, PLEASE don't forget to review. If you like the story at all, please let me know. Your reviews feed my muse. Thanks to you all!