[AN] I forgot this is updating weekend! Mercy me! I got reviews from the last chapter! I love you all! In honor of that, I have composed a letter. Ahem.

Dear Sir or Madam Potter fan,

Please regard this letter! If you don't tell me how I've done, my writing won't get better. Critique it to your heart's content, from plot-lines to my spellin'. Feel free to rip it all apart.

Sincerely,

Pat McClellan.

[AN]

32 - The Flight of the Pingaling

Harry's eyes opened so slowly that he wasn't certain when it had actually happened. The scent of medicine lingered in the air, but it was not the scent of the kind that said "drink me and whatever's broken will mend, straight away." That was the unpleasant but comforting smell of the school infirmary. This was instead the kind that said "drink me and the pain will all go away." Harry knew only a bit about that kind; up until now he hadn't had much use for it. Arthur Weasley's run in with the snake had been about as close as he came. The idea that he may need some of that was simply frightening.

He couldn't exactly remember how he got here. His head hurt, and he focused on the Occlumency exercises that had been coming so easily the past several weeks. The throbbing ebbed slightly, but didn't resolve itself totally.

Someone was sitting next to him. Without his glasses, the visitor was a swirly blob, but Harry reckoned he knew him just the same. He tried to speak, but it seemed to take some time for the words to make it all the way up his throat and past his lips.

"Prof-" He winced at the sound. "Professor Lupin?"

"Harry! Merlyn and Morgana but it's good to hear you. Don't move!" Harry certainly hadn't planned on moving. He couldn't feel his arms or legs, anyway. The blob murmured and then set something down and fumbled for a few seconds. Eventually Lupin tucked Harry's spectacles on him. They fit funny, as though either the spectacles or his head had been broken and hadn't been perfectly repaired. The way he felt, he was willing to believe that either could be true. Perhaps even both.

Harry groaned, and then fell silent. Now that the world was in focus, more or less, he could get a better grasp of what was around him. He was certainly in a hospital ward. Lupin looked incredibly ill, thin and pale. There were inky, ashen stripes under his eyes, and his lips were dark beneath his unkempt mustache. That wasn't really the worst part, however, as bad as it was.

Harry could see past Lupin, who was sitting on his right. There was an old lady asleep in a chair next to him, and Harry recognized her as Neville Longbottom's grandmother. He was certain he had heard her name, but right now it wouldn't come to him.

Beyond her, in a bed he assumed was identical to his own, lay Neville. Harry knew he ought to be happy to see his fellow Gryffindor; as badly as Neville was beaten and as much blood as there was on the floor, and he was relieved to see the steady rise and fall of Neville's breast. That didn't stop Harry from closing his eyes and wishing he could un-see what he had just seen.

"What happened to Neville?" There was really only one answer that made sense. Harry wasn't exactly sure why he was asking.

"Whoever attacked him worked him over pretty good, Harry," Remus said. "We think you interrupted him."

"Connor did this."

Lupin cocked his head. "The American?"

"The bloody American," Harry spat. Harry still had his eyes closed, though he could hear Remus bending over and fumbling with something. Harry lay in silence for a bit. He wasn't sure how long; time had gone all wonky. He didn't think that was magical this time.

Whispering next to him drew his attention...he'd either been sleeping or doing Occlumency. He didn't open his eyes immediately.

"Are you quite certain that's what he said?"

"Quite. I even asked."

Well then. Dumbledore and Remus.

"That doesn't seem to fit with what we know," Dumbledore mused. It was the kind of thing Harry could imagine him saying as he stroked his beard.

"He said it," Remus repeated.

"Well, he has suffered rather a severe injury to the head. Perhaps..."

"No," Remus interrupted. "No, it's the first thing he said, without hesitation. Either it's true, or he thinks it's true."

"But Mister Colier found him; it was he that alerted me!"

"Yes, well," Remus paused. "I suppose he'd be the first to know, if he did it. Have you questioned him?"

"Extensively," Dumbledore said. Harry felt something funny in his leg. He wondered momentarily if somebody was touching it and the brief and tiny tingle was all he could feel. "Mister Colier has a...romantic attachment to another student. When I questioned her, she implied that he was sleeping in his common room until they left together for a late-night...engagement at her urging." Lupin must have done something then, though he didn't speak. "There were witnesses who attested to that. I suppose it's possible, but his timing..."

"I've never met this American," Lupin interrupted. "But Harry told me he could bypass his wards."

"That is possible," Dumbledore admitted slowly. "He's the product of an experiment you see..."

"That doesn't concern me," Lupin snapped. "What concerns me is that this news doesn't surprise you. You knew he could do that and you put him right next to Harry, regardless. Really, Albus? Even if you don't care about Harry-"

"That is uncalled for. You know-"

"I'm just saying...even if you didn't, have we come all this way to take a risk like that?"

Everything was silent for a few moments. "In my estimation..."

"Look, Albus. Tempers are high, tensions are high, patience is low. Mine and yours both, I suspect. I'm going to stop before I say something I'll regret. All the same, I trust you will get to the bottom of this, because if you don't..."

"I will." Dumbledore said with some finality. There was a pause. "May I ask, and this is totally unrelated; how is Augusta managing to sleep through all this?"

"There's a muffling charm on Longbottom's bed."

"Indeed?"

"Oh, yes." Remus appeared to be cooling off. "Not so much now, but for a long while, awaking was...unpleasant for him."

"I can only imagine."

"Imagining probably wouldn't cut it, Albus. The boy screamed in agony. Originally the charm went to the edges of the bed, but Augusta persuaded them to extend it. See that line there? That is a line I daren't cross. I don't fancy hearing screams like that ever again. From a child, no less. That's why you need to find who did this. Harry...Harry's the lucky one. He was just beaten to within an inch of his life. Look at Longbottom! Look at his face, Albus!"

"Remus, I assure you, whoever did this will pay for his or her actions."

There was a creaking noise and things rustled. "Don't assure me, Albus. Just do it."

Harry opened his eyes.

"Ah! Harry, my boy!" Dumbledore smiled reassuringly. Harry didn't feel much like smiling.

"I saw Connor's boot when he kicked me in the face."

"And you are absolutely certain they were his? Take your time to think about it if you must."

"I don't need any time. They look just like mine."

Dumbledore nodded. He gazed thoughtfully at Neville. "Harry, would it trouble you if I held onto Mister Colier for a few days, until Mister Longbottom awakes? I would dearly like to hear what he has to say. It is my understanding that he and Mister Colier were good friends. Part of me can't help but be genuinely perplexed at idea of him harming young Mister Longbottom."

"I saw it!" Harry snapped.

Dumbledore raised his long, thin hands. "I promised I would look into it and so I shall. We are merely discussing things, as two adults do. Can you think of anything else that may help me?" Harry shook his head. "Get some sleep, my boy. Seeing you awake is a tremendous burden off my soul." Dumbledore smiled. It looked and sounded sincere enough. Harry managed a feeble smile, and Dumbledore nodded and backed away. He nodded at Remus. "Don't hesitate to contact me, should the need arise; especially when Mister Longbottom rejoins us." Dumbledore turned away and walked slowly down the ward, his steps echoing where they weren't eaten up by curtain-wrapped beds with muffling charms. When he vanished from sight, Harry turned to Lupin, who shrugged.

Lupin watched him for several moments. "Harry, I imagine you get enough of this, so I'm going to keep this short and sweet. Don't bother."

"I know...it won't make me feel better," Harry snapped. "You too?"

"I wasn't going to say that at all," Lupin said. "Revenge almost always makes me feel better." Harry stared at him. "What? Surprised? Have I ever not been honest with you?"

Harry shook his head. "If it will make me feel better...Neville deserves justice."

Remus glanced at Neville. "I agree with you there." They were both quiet for a while. Harry stared at Remus again.

"Justice."

"What's on your mind is revenge," Lupin said decisively. "Leave that to someone who's good at it."

"I'm sure I could manage."

"I'm sure you could," the older man agreed. "You take after both your parents in that regard...James could do anything he set his mind to. It might have been ugly and clumsy, and he may have put half of Hogwarts to the torch by the time it was over, but he could have done it. Revenge was even something he did well."

They waited in silence. Harry knew there was more coming...he knew the role Remus had played to the Marauders...their collective conscience. It was something that was as part of his nature as being a werewolf. In the end, Remus didn't disappoint him.

"Revenge for you is like the taste of blood to me," he closed his eyes. The look on his face disturbed Harry. "It makes you feel...powerful! You feel in control! You are the master, the hunter, the predator. Everything answers to you!" Harry felt queezy. "You have some...just a little drop...and all you want is more, and more...you can smell it. You think you can master it. You tell yourself you will save your bloodlust for those who deserve it..." He paused and opened his eyes. "And maybe for a while you do." He took a deep breath. His fingertips were shaking. "There's a reason Lycanthropy is a curse, Harry. All that power, all that destructive potential, just waiting for the once second in my life when I am finally consumed." Harry didn't want to listen to Lupin, but it wasn't like he could go anywhere, and anyway, between Remus Lupin and Arthur Weasley, they were the two adults who had never given him the feeling that they were manipulating his life. Deep down, he knew this was Remus asking him, but not stopping him. Deep down, he knew Lupin would leave that decision for him. The least he could do was listen to him, before he cursed Connor to bits.

He realized after a bit that Remus had a hand on his shoulder. He couldn't feel it all that well. He looked beyond his father's friend to Augusta Longbottom and his still-unconscious friend. If there was one thing he learned this year, it was that nothing was free. Someone would always pay.

Remus's discolored lips twisted into a weary smile. "Revenge is like treacle, Harry; very sweet, but very sticky."

Harry smiled bitterly. Even if it was advice he never intended to take, it was catchy.

Dumbledore returned the next day. Harry had been able to glean that he'd only been out of school for three days; it felt like much longer.

"How are you, Harry?"

"Feeling much better, headmaster."

"Up and about, are we?"

"I walked a little bit last night."

"And how did that go?"

"Well, Sir." In truth, his legs below the knees were still numb, so it was a bit frustrating. Harry had never considered how hard walking could be for someone who couldn't feel their feet. Dumbledore looked to Neville's empty bed. "He's out with an orderly. I expect he'll be back in short order." Neville, it turned out, hadn't been beaten as badly as Harry had. He was already more physically apt. "I think they are going to show him a mirror today."

Dumbledore frowned. "Then it's good I've come with work for you to do. I can offer him my support, such as it is." Dumbledore reached into a pocket and produced a small, clay ball.

"I hate those," Harry said dryly.

"I would have brought the pensive, but this travels rather better and I only need you to examine my interview with Mister Colier." He handed the ball to Harry. Harry looked at it disdainfully. "It is only my discussion with Mister Colier. Miss Granger informed me that you may have some apprehension. I can assure that I simply want you to attest to the truth of his statements, insofar as you reasonably can."

Harry looked to Neville's empty bed and sighed. "Recordatio."

Connor was standing before the headmaster's desk. He was dirty, as usual, and he was gazing around in wonder. Dumbledore was sitting at his desk. Harry had very rarely gotten this point-of-view. He almost felt as though he was breaking some rule.

"You're not going to restrain me?"

Dumbledore blinked. "Heavens, no. This is merely an interview; not an inquisition. Do sit down." Connor carefully sat, as though the chair might try to eat him. Harry had never seen a chair do that, but he could imagine that somewhere, there was one that would.

"I've already told you everything. I've even shown you."

Dumbledore set a tiny vial in front of him, and slid a sheet of parchment across the top of his desk. Connor read it only briefly. "Veritaserum? Why don't you just tell me to drink it? It's not like you couldn't have just slipped me some."

"That wouldn't be the right thing to do, Mister Colier. The right thing, in this circumstance, is to allow you the opportunity to decide to take it."

"Why now?"

"It is often useful when reports conflict."

"Whose? Mine and who else?"

Dumbledore ignored the question. "I can, of course, request permission from the ministry, but there is, as usual, paperwork. That paperwork would require me to, quite exhaustively, I might add, identify you as a person of interest to this investigation."

"What's this do then?"

"This sits in the bottom of a drawer. In the event that any allegations are founded, it will go to the ministry."

"And if they aren't?"

"After a decade, it's tossed in the rubbish bin. Metaphorically, of course. The parchment has a charm that will cause it turn to dust, in the event that no ministry seals are ever officially applied."

Connor leaned back, then forward again. "Got a pen?"

"A...?"

"Quill. Whatever. Where do I sign. Does it need to be in blood?" Harry wondered if Connor had forgotten that he was talking to his headmaster. Dumbledore slowly pulled his wand and held it aloft. Then he touched the bottom of the parchment, as if he was teaching an exceptionally slow child. Connor pulled his wand and slapped the same spot, which glowed briefly green. Dumbledore slit the tiny vial over his desktop. Connor took it, unstopped it with his teeth, and downed it in a single swallow. It was more than he'd ever seen used on anyone, so at least there wouldn't be any questions about proper dosage. "How long?"

Dumbledore eyed him. "What is your name?"

"Connor Colier."

"What is your age?"

"18."

"Lie to me. What is your age?"

"18," Connor repeated.

"Read what is on the parchment please."

Connor leaned over the desk and read from the parchment without picking it up. "I authorize the use of certain spells, as well as Veritaserum, for research purposes."

"Do you?"

"Yes!"

"Remember this number: seventeen." Dumbledore leveled his wand. "Imperio." Connor smiled. "Repeat after me: I have been sorted into Ravenclaw."

"I have been sorted into Gryffindor. This is lame."

Dumbledore lowered his wand and leaned forward. "Did you meet another wizard in the forbidden forest?"

"Yes."

"Is he your friend?"

"No," Connor responded quickly. "Kill him if you see him."

"Is he the remaining ex nihlo wizard? Will either of you harm a student?"

"Yes. Yes."

"I believe it's ready," Dumbledore said. He was markedly less friendly. "Are you responsible for the incident for which you have been summoned?"

"Yes."

"Explain."

"I was with Harry and Neville. I made enemies for them. I wasn't there when they were attacked in the hall. I arrived too late to help catch their attacker."

"Are you directly responsible?"

"No."

"Why does one of them remember seeing your boots?"

"Because I was wearing them." Harry had to admit; Dumbledore was probably asking for that one.

"Why does he remember you kicking him?"

"I was slipping on all the blood. If I kicked him it was on accident. If I'd have meant to; he'd have stayed kicked."

"Did you see their attacker?"

"Yes."

"Describe him."

"I can't. He was wearing a mask and gloves. I think it was the wizard Harry and Neville and I chased earlier."

"Why do you say that?"

"He saw all three of us. Also, when I tried to capture him, he transfigured into a rat."

"You didn't tell me this before. Why?"

"I wanted to find him myself," Connor said, coolly. "I wanted to make him pay."

Dumbledore seemed unfazed. "Why didn't you follow him immediately? It seems to me you are uniquely suited."

"Harry and Neville were pouring blood. I took them back to the common room and got help."

"What spell did you use?"

"Sir?"

"To get them back to the common room. I will check your wand."

"I didn't use a spell."

Dumbledore drummed his fingertips on his desk. "You carried them both?"

"Yes."

"That must have been difficult."

Even though it wasn't a question, Connor answered anyway. "It was. Harry was nothing, but I had to struggle with Neville."

"Remember this number: fifteen. Say it after me."

"Fifteen." Connor was eerily calm. Harry had decided at some point around the middle that he didn't much care for Veritaserum.

Dumbledore flicked his wand. "Obviate. Quickly, what number did I ask you to remember?"

"Seventeen," replied Connor without a pause. When Dumbledore nodded, Connor let out a big breath. "How are they? Can I see them?"

Dumbledore placed his hands flat on the desk and leaned back. "They are as well as one could expect. Harry was beaten nearly to death and Neville...you will have to see that for yourself. You'll see them when the rest of the students do." Dumbledore rose. "You are dismissed, Mister Colier. For now I am satisfied that you have told me the truth; even if you left very important bits out."

"About the rat." Connor said. He still rose to go, but paused with his hand on the door.

"You may wish to remain secluded for the next hour, as you will have no chance of retaining your discretion. I will inform your house prefect...do you have a preference?"

"Granger."

"I will inform Miss Granger that she should test you before you join the rest of the students."

The memory faded to black, and Harry found himself again on the hospital bed. Sometime during the memory, Neville had returned. He was sitting with his back to Harry, head held in his hands, with healers and Augusta Longbottom arrayed around him. Harry looked up to Dumbledore.

"This doesn't prove anything. I still don't trust him."

"Obviously, or I would not have to resort to such measures," Dumbledore replied. Harry wished Remus was here.

"They could have both been faulty."

"Do you think they were?" Dumbledore asked. No, Harry did not. Especially not with Dumbledore, and especially when one was restricted and the other downright forbidden by the ministry. Only he wasn't going to say that, and Dumbledore could sense it. The headmaster continued, "Does Mister Colier's account coincide with what you remember?"

Harry thought about it. "Yeah," he was finally forced to admit. Dumbledore glanced at Neville. Neville was watching them closely. Dumbledore sighed and extended one hand, and Harry deposited the clay ball into his hand. The headmaster slowly walked to Neville's bed, where he handed over the clay ball. Harry watched as Neville went motionless. After a long time, his eyes opened and he nodded. His jaw was clenched, and he looked quite angry. He even appeared to shout something, although the muffling charms were holding up well; Harry couldn't hear anything. Dumbledore remained motionless for a long time, then walked back to Harry's bed. He scanned over at Neville again, who was still staring balefully in his direction. With Neville's new face, it looked particularly ominous.

"I only wanted to do what was best for you," Dumbledore pleaded. "Both of you. He agreed to it."

"Don't reckon that's because he felt as though you forced him," Harry muttered. He had momentarily forgotten his rage at Connor; especially when he saw the pale scars still visible on his hands.

"I suppose it looked that way."

"I suppose it looked exactly that way. Neville has been his best mate since he got here, and you just showed him that. Sometimes you don't think things through, do you?"

"I do," Dumbledore insisted, looking to Neville again. Neville had lain with his back to them. "Though I'll admit there are times I don't take other perspectives into account, as well as I should."

"Yeah," Harry said. "You can say that again."

There was a long and awkward pause. "I had better return to Hogwarts. Two students have been assaulted, and their attacker is still on the loose. Do you agree with Colier? Do you think it could be Pettigrew?"

"Who else?" Harry said. "Connor and Neville were with me the night we cornered him. Connor almost had him. I didn't think he'd be brave enough to attack us face to face."

"It didn't happen face to face," Dumbledore reminded him. "Sleep on it, Harry."

Two hours later, Neville and Harry were talking about going back. Neville was returning tomorrow, Harry the day after, if all went well.

"Are you ready?" Neville asked.

Harry though about it. "I miss Parvati. I want to find out who did this. Are you?"

"No," Neville said, simply. He waved his hand over his face. Harry wouldn't have blamed him for breaking out in tears, but that didn't happen.

"If it bothers you, I'm sure we can..."

"I'm not worried about me. What will Lavender say?"

Harry was about to answer when he realized he didn't know what she'd say. Their talking grew more intermittent until Harry looked over and saw that Neville was asleep. The blue glow above his friend's bed told him that the silencing charm was active, so it must have been after ten. Neville would need his sleep anyway, if he was going home tomorrow.

A short time later, Harry was awakened by something...he didn't know what. He looked around blearily, until he realized a wizard in a bulky cloak was stopped in front of his bed. Harry didn't have his wand with him, and his mind frantically raced as he tried to think of something he could use for a weapon. There was the ever clean bedpan. He briefly wished it was a normal one. He reached slowly for it when the wizard dropped his hood.

It was not, as Harry had initially assumed, a wizard. It was Connor. Even in the darkness of the ward his eyes gleamed.

"Hello, Harry."

Harry shrank back against his bed frame. "Hullo."

"Are you feeling better?"

Harry shook his head. He was trying to convince himself that Connor would have already killed him, if that was his intent.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"I mean I am, but I don't get to go back to school tomorrow. Neville does, though. How did you get here?"

"Ping's on the roof."

Harry nodded slowly. The Pingaling was the name Dean had given to the motorbike that he and Connor had pieced together, on account of that was the noise it produced, most of the time it was running. "Why not just Apparate?"

Connor shook his head. "Not so good at that. I know it's hard to believe; me being a natural at everything I try, and all..." Connor had trailed off. He was staring at Neville's face in the dim light. He turned away from Harry. "Oh. What the f..." with several large strides he crossed over the mark that denoted the edge of the still expanded silencing charm. The chair that Augusta Longbottom had occupied was in his way, and he kicked it to the side. It was odd to see it fly and burst against the wall, but hear no noise. Harry struggled out of bed to legs that he could almost feel now. Conner extended one long arm behind him and held Harry back with a single hand. Harry couldn't see Neville, but he knew they were talking. Harry was struggling, but Connor was just too strong; even on Harry's best of days, and Connor's worst.

Suddenly, something was flying through the air. Connor released Harry, pinned a pillow that Neville had tossed against the wall with his right hand, then punched it with his left. Harry fell into Connor's back just in time to hear him beating on it three quick times; whump whump whump. The pillow wimpered, and Harry bounced off Conner's broad back. Neville reached out a hand as Harry flailed wildly, keeping him up right. Harry almost pulled Neville out of the bed, but Connor held them both in place with one large hand against Neville's chest. The other was pressed against the wall as if he was in danger of falling. After several tense moments, he nodded silently. Harry could see his jaw clenched, even in the dark. He pushed Neville back, and pulled Harry fully to his feet by the shoulders. Harry was pretty sure he could have simply picked him up and tossed him.

He had definitely missed something big between Neville and the American.

Both Connor and Neville refused to discuss any of what Harry had missed, playing it off as if it hadn't happened, and even making jokes.

Finally Neville glanced at Harry's watch. "I'm guessing you don't have permission to be here?"

"How'd you guess?"

"I've got to come back tomorrow, looking like this..." Neville waved his finger in a spiral out from his nose. "You had better be there, to threaten everyone into saying how good I look now...If you sleep through it, I'll fill your bed with bubotubers."

Connor laughed and rose. "Back to the Pinger, then."

One thing was certain in Harry's mind...Neville got to leave for Hogwarts tomorrow, and he was damned well going with him, no matter what anyone said.