33 - The Face of Vengeance

When Harry awoke the next day, he had no plan, other than to make himself so incredibly inconvenient that the medi-wizards basically had to send him back to Hogwarts. When they asked how he felt, he lied and told them never better, although he still couldn't feel anything past his elbows or knees. He was getting better; four days ago, his whole body was numb. Neville was set to be released around lunch time, so that gave Harry the whole morning to endear himself to the staff. By mid-morning, he could tell that he was going to have to do something very special; apparently the staff here was well used to people who wanted out early. They handled him with the kind of calm which was almost aggravating.

Dumbledore and Augusta Longbottom arrived to collect Neville just as he and Harry were finishing up lunch. Harry wasn't exceptionally hungry, but he suspected that someone was paying close attention to what he ate, and figured that eating it all may convince someone important he was feeling better. In fact, eating that much made him feel terrible.

"Are you sure you're ready to return?" Augusta asked Neville. She inspected him carefully through one eye.

"I am if Harry is," Neville replied.

"I was under the impression that Harry had to wait for a day or two?" Dumbledore said. The way he said it didn't make it sound as though it was a question.

"I think if you ask, they may decide he's ready now," Neville observed. Harry was shocked. He'd never admitted what he was about to Neville; not in so many words.

"I don't know..."

"I'll ask," Augusta said, drawing herself up and straightening her hat. She clopped stiffly down the ward, the stuffed bird on her hat wobbling to and fro as if it was about to make a run for it. Dumbledore looked from Neville to Harry. The silence and ensuing conversation was somewhat awkward.

Harry was almost relieved when the medi-wizard returned with Neville's gran.

"This one," the wite-robed wizard said. "He's been trying to convince me all day."

"And?" Dumbledore asked.

The healer was eying the remains of Harry's lunch. "You haven't gotten sick yet?"

"No," Harry tried to sound resolute. Everyone was watching him.

The healer rubbed his whiskers for a bit. Then he stepped forward and waved his wand around Harry. It was some wood that was exceptionally white and quite long and tapered. Occasionally he would tap Harry, though as much as Harry tried to steel himself, he was never ready, and winced quite a bit. Finally the healer shrugged. "Poppy still at Hogwarts?"

"She is," Dumbledore agreed. "But if Mister Potter requires more diligent caregivers-"

"May as well stop there," the medi-wizard waved dismissively. "Bigger question is whether you can protect him." Dumbledore winced. The medi-wizard turned to Harry abruptly. "If I send you back, you're spending at least a night in your infirmary. Understand?" Harry moved his lips but couldn't squeeze out an answer immediately. "Listen; don't bother if you won't do that. You'll just end up here again and waste our time." He waved a hand. "All of us. Yours, too."

"I'll listen. Do you suppose I could take visitors, or be out with friends during the day?"

"Now, Harry," began Dumbledore. "I don't know-"

"I think that would be a splendid idea," the healer, whose name badge read L. Tus; FQMW, interrupted. "No other way to build up your strength and stamina. No over-doing it though. In fact..." he produced a surprisingly large pad of rag-pulp paper, tore off the top slip, then wrote something on it and tapped it with his wand. He handed the slip to Harry. "Start taking those immediately. You'll only need them for another day or two." Harry looked at the scrap in his hand. Not only was it illegible, he didn't even know which end was up.

"Very well," Dumbledore said, a bit stiffly. "I suppose if you feel it beneficial..."

"I do," Healer Tus interrupted again. He stared intently at Harry. "People who don't want to be here are usually bigger trouble than they're worth. Now, before I can discharge you, I need permission. You're technically hhd, you know."

"HHD?" Harry glanced at Neville.

"Headed for a Horrid Death," Neville said. "Only I think here it just means that you are just leaving sooner than they'd like." Harry glanced back at Healer Tus.

"Probably. What do I know? I'm just a Fully Qualified Medi-Wizard." He shrugged. He held out Harry's chart. "Give it a tap, so the world knows you're HHD."

"I have no wand," Harry said.

"Actually, Mister Potter is still an under-aged wizard," Doumbledore observed. Healer Tus pulled the chart back and glanced at it. "So he is." He looked at Harry. "Either you get someone legally responsible to sign for you or go back to bed. It's only a day or so. Either way, leave me alone, because I can make it a long day."

Harry looked to Dumbledore, who said nothing. After Augusta and Neville joined in the silent stare, he exhaled noisily.

"I suppose it will be good for your morale, Harry."

After procuring his medicine; which was a handful of large, violently green pills, they returned to Hogwarts. It was a long trip, made in a muggle automobile, since the healers didn't want either one of them apparating for a month. When they were outside the gate to Hogwarts, Harry was starting to get a feeling that he hoped was good old fashioned nausea. At the front doors, he had gone tingly down to the knees, even though he still couldn't feel his legs from the calf down all that well. They walked as swiftly as they could up to the Gryffindor common room, which was fortunately limited by how fast Neville's gran could move, which just happened to be slower than Harry, for the moment. When they reached the portrait of the fat lady, both women stared at each other.

"Auggie?" The fat lady blinked her beady eyes as though she couldn't believe them.

"Hello, Violet."

"Has it been that long?"

Augusta started at her hands. "It's been a while. Bringing my grandson back, don't you know? He was the victim of...something terrible, I'm afraid."

"I heard..." the fat lady trailed off. Whatever she was going to say was lost as she caught sight of Neville's face. She gulped and opened the portrait.

"Thank you," said Augusta, shortly.

Since it was still early in the day, there were only a few people in the common room when they entered...a few seventh years who were probably skiving off class and Emer Rath. Emer started to smile, but it froze before it had totally found its way onto her reasonably pretty face.

"Neville?"

"Yeah." He stammered. "Uh. Hi."

She was speechless, and instead of talking, shook her head a tiny bit. It made her hair ripple slightly. "What-?" She trailed off. Neville was definitely blushing. It made the purple scars on his face slightly less visible.

"We are investigating," Dumbledore said hastily. "If you can wait for a moment, Augusta?" He led them to the dormitory.

Harry could hear the hushed whispers behind him, and he whirled, pulling his hair back. "Honestly," he shouted angrily. "It's not like you've never seen a scar before!" They fell quiet, and a hand on his shoulder got his attention.

It was Dumbledore's, and he was peering at Harry. "Calm yourself, Harry. You've only just gotten back. I imagine we'd all feel rather foolish if you had to return to Saint Mungo's immediately after I authorized your release."

Harry nodded, and when he got back to his bed, paused. He checked enough of his wards to reasonably determine that no-one had tampered with his personal effects. The chansonarc, bottle of fire, and mirror were on his bed where he had left them. His talking cards were stacked neatly on his bureau.

"Where's my wand?" Harry asked, suddenly.

Dumbledore pulled open a drawer, where Harry's wand was lying next to his mother's. It wasn't strictly legal, but Dumbledore didn't mention it. Harry felt better the moment he grasped his own wand. Neville was over by his plants.

"Someone must have minded them for me."

Dumbledore smiled. "You have excellent friends, Mister Longbottom. I'm sure they were more than adequately cared for."

Harry hoped that was true. Connor periodically worked his way from 'trusted' to 'questionable' and back again. His head wanted to say Connor had proved himself; his gut wanted to remind him that perhaps the American was more clever than he appeared.

The headmaster saw them both into their beds and then rejoined Augusta, presumably to have a discussion with her in his office. Harry was only to remain out of the hospital wing while he was awake. He still had to return there to sleep. He sat on his bed, idly chatting with Neville, who was alternating between being worried and displaying false bravado.

They knew it was mid-afternoon when Dean and Seamus burst through the door. Harry and Neville looked up, and immediately both of the other boys stopped.

"Merlin...Neville..." Dean breathed. "Tell me that Yankee didn't do it! Wait...tell me if he did! Just say the word! I knew he was acting strange!"

"Strange how?" Harry asked.

"He didn't!" Neville insisted, absently rubbing his face.

"Then who did? We're not about to let someone walk away from..." He waved in Neville's general direction.

"I don't know who it was," Neville insisted. "But you think I'd recognize my own friend. We think it was-"

"Someone we've had problems with in the past," Harry interrupted. "A Death-Eater."

Neville looked at him and nodded slowly. Dean and Seamus didn't look as though they were buying it, but they both turned to go.

"We'd appreciate it if you didn't say anything until we come down," Neville said. "I'm...frankly I'm batty about it. What will Lavender say?"

Seamus paused. He had never been the closest friend to either of them, but now he tilted his head. "Colleens dig scars. And if they don't, you've got the wrong one." He stared at Neville's ruined face for a few more moments, and then nodded as he and Dean turned to go.

"Don't be too long," Dean said back. "People were worried. They'll want to see you." He looked Harry's battered body up and down, then shifted his gaze to Neville. "Especially now."

Harry turned his glance to Neville, who was staring at his shoes. "I suppose we'd better go then."

"It's now or never," Neville agreed. After a few breaths he rose and pulled Harry to his feet. A gesture that may have been awkward a week ago was welcome now. Granted, he was recovering quickly, but numb legs made it hard to stand up.

No one noticed them entering the common room at first. There weren't a lot of students there; Harry had seen more, but the time of day was a naturally active one. A third year girl noticed them and actually looked back down at her work, before she slowly and deliberately looked again, and then screamed.

A pall fell over the common room that was unnatural and uncomfortable. Everyone in there had looked to see what was going on. Once their eyes slid over Harry and Neville, they invariably stopped with a dumbfounded look. Some recovered quite quickly and looked away. Others continued to stare. The girl who had screamed had her hand over her mouth. Neville was turning quite red. He tried to push past Harry, but Harry wouldn't let him.

"These are your mates. They know you. I reckon they are more worried about how it happened than they are concerned your face is a little messed up." Harry desperately wanted to believe that. Neville's face was 'a little messed up' like the sky was 'a little blue'.

Ron chose this moment to walk in with Hermione in tow. He didn't notice Harry and Neville at first. He saw that all eyes in the common room were affixed to a common point and slowly swiveled his head around to see what everyone was looking at. Hermione had stopped dead in her tracks. Ron bound easily up the stairs and stopped short of hugging them both.

"Fancy a break, then, did you?" He didn't make it a point not to stare at Neville's face, but he managed to avoid looking without looking like he was avoiding it.

"Oh, Neville," Hermione began. She had followed him with difficulty.

Ron slapped her hand away. "Get off. I think it might be a new fad."

Neville smiled weakly and Ron looked around. "Oi!" Everyone was staring at them anyway. There really wasn't a need to get their attention. "Let's have a hand for Neville and Harry, then! Even grievous bodily injury can't keep them away!" Dean and Seamus clapped immediately, and most of the common room followed their lead. Ron shot spitballs out of his wand at the few people that weren't. He held up his hands after a moment. "Clear off that lounge, and get your looks in now. Next person I see staring gets hexed to next August."

"Ron," began Hermione.

"Quiet," he said in a whisper. Everyone continued to clap, then one by one tore their eyes away and back to whatever it was they had been doing before Neville and Harry arrived. Within ten minutes, the common room had, if not returned to normal, at least made a valiant effort. People were still wandering in after their last class of the day. Then there would be a mini-scene, and Ron, Dean, or Seamus would threaten someone into not making a fuss.

Harry didn't care for the commotion that followed. It was only the thought of Neville having to go through this alone that even kept him in the common room. In spite of his promise, Connor was absent, and in addition, Parvati and Lavender were gone as well.

Harry hadn't exactly ended on a high note with Parvati. Someone said something in his ear. He looked over to see Emer Rath leaning over the back of the sofa.

"Pardon?"

"I said 'welcome back', officially."

"Uh...thanks." A though occurred to Harry. "Listen, about your telescope..."

Emer dismissed him with the wave of one carefully painted hand. "Don't worry, Harry. It's just a telescope. Anyway, Professor Dumbledore had it mended and now I can practically see sidewalks on Mars. I'm just happy you're okay."

"Have you seen Parvati? Or Lavender?"

Emer shook her head. It was almost dinner-time, and Harry was quickly becoming drained.

Neville, who had been surrounded by girls all year, was amazingly looking somewhat satisfied. Never in Harry's life had his scar garnered him the kind of kisses, hugs, and cheek-touching Neville was getting now. It would have been nice if the bloody thing had been useful for anything but a telephone straight into the Dark Lord's thoughts. He'd have taken a snog over that any day.

By the time dinner rolled around, a vast majority of the Gryffindor girls-including Hermione, and she never even used cosmetics-had whipped up an excellent concealing charm, and Neville was even smiling now and then. It looked like he'd be able to take his meal in the great hall after all. Harry wasn't sure that would actually happen, right up until they walked out the door. They went as a group, which was handy, because he was moving very slowly. He didn't even really want to eat, even though his body told him that he was hungry. It seemed, on the whole, like too much work to be chewing things up tonight.

Harry found himself sandwiched between Ron and Neville. The other houses would occasionally peek over, but as Harry merely looked as though he'd been in a fight and Neville had the concealing charm, there really wasn't much to see. Connor was across from them, and he and Neville hadn't even talked yet, which seemed a little suspicious to Harry. He was starting to put a few things together in his head.

Before the meal, Lavender and Parvati showed up. They actually walked most of the way to the table without really looking at it, and both of them stopped immediately upon seeing Harry and Neville. Harry realized that he was holding his breath, against his will. He hadn't wanted to get as involved with Parvati as he had, but things had snowballed, and he wasn't sure how. After a moment when he was certain she was going to yell something rude to him, Lavender nudged her. She shook her head slightly and held out her hands, which was certainly odd, but more welcome than a slap. Lavender actually did hug Neville. She made a big show out of it, and Harry could hear him quietly warn her.

"Careful. I'll smear."

"Smear?" She peered intently at his face, then sucked in a gasp. "That's horrible!"

By then, Parvati had maneuvered through the crowd to her seat across from Harry, so he couldn't listen to anymore. She wasn't even saying much, but the mere fact that she was there made him feel a little better. There were times he was with her that he tingled, so maybe some Parvati was just what he needed to deal with the tingling he had now, from the beating he had taken. Natalie actually chatted with her more than he did, not that he'd complain.

Halfway through the meal, Parvati and Lavender had both moved over to talk to friends at the Ravenclaw table, and Luna Lovegood was slumped in between Neville and Ginny Weasley. She and Ginny had been talking, but she grew more and more distracted as the conversation went on, staring blatantly at Neville's face.

"I don't understand why you're hiding it," she said at last. She ran her fingers close to his skin, but not close enough to ruin the concealing charm. She followed the curving scar from where it started, at the tip of his nose, and all along the looping path it took as it spiraled outward, over his lips, his eyes, his cheeks, chin, and all the way up to his hairline, to where it finally ended in front of his right ear.

"People will stare at it," Neville muttered weakly. Ginny and Harry were both watching with interest now.

"It's very fascinating," Luna agreed.

"It makes me ugly."

Luna considered that. "I don't think that at all, Neville Longbottom. Whoever did it is certainly ugly. If anything, it makes people really look at you. I think you look dashing." She smiled a brief, intense smile, then turned to Ginny as if the conversation had never happened.

"How does she do that?" Ron asked. Harry just shook his head. "You better get to the hospital wing, mate." Harry looked at his friend, and Ron tapped the back of his hand with his fingertip. Harry looked down. I NEED MEDICAL ATTENTION was flashing on the back of his hand. "Big pills? Color of snot?" Ron asked

"Well...yeah."

"My great uncle Telius had to take them. Totally barmy...though he was a Labrador for the last few years of his life. He could fetch a stick, though." Harry wasn't surprised he had to go to the infirmary. He was actually surprised that he'd made it this long without passing out.

"Want me to see you there?" asked Neville.

"I can make it. I'm just ready for some sleep."

Harry fought his way to his feet and shuffled off slowly to the ward. Parvati met him about half way. Harry didn't really know what to say to her now that they were alone. She just walked beside him for a bit, then paused when they had almost reached the door.

"I'm sorry I was mean, Harry." She was sorry? "I was just cold, and tired, and mad I couldn't..." she trailed off. "That doesn't matter. I'm sorry. This is my fault."

"How is it your fault?"

"If I'd have been civil, you'd have waited for me, and this never would have happened."

Would it have? Harry wasn't sure. "Or it could have happened to you, too; and you're way prettier than me...it's not that bad if I get a little roughed up, no one can tell. I told you hanging around with me was dangerous. Look where it got Neville."

"Did that happen because of you?"

That was a good question, and he hadn't figured out a reasonable answer. "I don't know. Look, I'm glad we got to talk, but I have to sleep..."

"Of course!" she exclaimed. She kissed him softly. It hurt a little. "We can talk more tomorrow?"

"Provided I don't sleep through it," Harry said. Parvati smiled. He did feel better.

"Mister Potter! I do wish you'd stay away. Bed!" Madam Pomfrey pointed at Harry's usual bed. He ambled over to it. She beat him there easily and waved her wand over his body. "Running on willpower and good intentions, I see. You're mending. You can't overdo it." She was being slightly less terse with him than usual. Harry simply nodded. "Two nights, Potter. Two nights and you can leave during the day. You can manage that?" Harry nodded. "Then get to bed."

Sometime later, something awakened Harry from his sleep; someone was standing near him. He had his wand under his pillow, but as with Remus Lupin, he was pretty sure he knew his visitor.

"Professor," he croaked. How long had he been asleep? It couldn't have been for long. He was still dead tired.

"Hello, Harry." Dumbledore said. "I just stopped by to see how you were handling your first day back. And I was asked to bring you this." He gave Harry a glass of familiar smelling medicine.

"I'm pretty sure I'll sleep well enough," Harry said. Dumbledore simply shrugged. Harry held the small glass under his nose, then downed it with a single gulp.

That night was the first time ever that Harry had dreams while using the Dreamless Sleep potion. They weren't indistinct, but they didn't exactly make sense either. All he could remember was a lot of noise and different voices. At one point he even remembered pulling the pillow over his head, as though it would help drown them out. He awoke the next morning both refreshed and confused. The silence in the room seemed unnatural. He fumbled with his spectacles, tapped them with a wand, and jammed them on when he saw a blue glimmer. Madame Pomfrey was nowhere to be found, and the only other bed was surrounded by a curtain, and it was moving in a very unsettling way, as if it was a jellyfish consuming its lunch. Harry glanced at his watch. It was nearly breakfast time. He felt downright miraculous, as if he'd slept a week. The tingling in his arms and legs had retreated to this hands and feet, and he felt no urge whatsoever to go to sleep again. If he went to the common room first, he probably wouldn't make it to the great hall by the start of the meal. He decided just to go straight down. As full as he had been yesterday, he was ravenous now.

When Harry got to the great hall, he found it deserted. He glanced at his watch, shook it, and listened to it carefully. It sounded reasonable. He supposed it could have been off. It was right when he put it on last night, but stranger things had happened. After a half hour of waiting, he trudged up to the common room.

"Well! What a pleasant surprise!" the fat lady gushed. Harry assumed she was trying to act casual and let it slide.

The common room was empty, so he dropped with a grunt onto his favorite sofa. He felt under the cushion, and pulled forth the small bottle that eternally ran a few minutes behind. In it, the common room was empty too, and then he saw himself wander into the picture. He looked skinny and pallid, even in miniature. He stared at the bottle and spaced off. A noise behind him startled him, and he turned to see Neville appear, bleary eyed from the dormitory. His watch must have be a few hours off for some reason.

"About time," Harry said. "I've been waiting forever."

Neville looked up, and immediately the scars looked much worse...Neville was very pale, and judging by the huge streaks under his eyes, he could have used some dreamless sleep potion himself. Perhaps Neville should have been the one staying in the hospital wing for an extra night.

"Neville? Are you...okay?"

"Harry?" Ron said, emerging from the door. "Is that you? What are you doing here?"

"Waiting to eat. I woke up early, and my watch is off, so I went to the great hall early, and I'm starved."

"Early? We didn't know if you were back at Saint Mungo's! Parvati was practically spare. I think Hermione might have sedated her. And you should hear the latest."

Parvati spare? And sedated? And the latest? "What?"

Ron paused. He was thick, and when he got the idea that something might be wrong, it almost assuredly was. "Where have you been?"

"What? Saint Mungo's. You know that!"

"Again?"

"Wait. What? Again?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "For the last two days, mate?"

"Two?" Harry looked at Neville, who if anything, looked worse. "Two days? Like I went to sleep on Thursday and now it's Saturday?"

"Sunday," Ron said absently. He was staring at Harry in a way that Harry didn't like at all.

"Wait," Harry said. "Two days?" Ron was staring at him as though he had brain damage, which he very well might have. "You're having me on," he said at last.

"Here," Neville said, trudging slowly back up the stairs. Harry followed him.

Neville's spotty memory had given rise to a number of wonderful gimmicks and devices, but very few were as useful, in Harry's opinion, as the humble automatic calendar, which sat politely and only ever did one thing- changed the day, unerringly. He had it tilted out towards the rest of the beds, because there were times when one awoke that one wasn't exactly certain of the day, or in Neville's case, the month. Harry saw the date the moment he stepped through the door.

"Two days..." he muttered distractedly.

Ron nodded. "And you've got all the girls in a tizzy, mate. I wish they went that gaga over me."

"You've never vanished for two days," Connor said softly. He had pillows propped against the wall and was studying from an absurdly large history of magic tome. Various sheets of parchment were stacked around him. "When I vanish for two days, people hold me at wand-point and ask what I'm on about.

"That's because you're a suspicious lout," Ron nodded. Harry didn't think he was being mean, but he also didn't think Ron was trying to be funny. It was more like he was just observing. Connor nodded.

"You better find Parvati early," Seamus said, still lying with his face in the pillow. "She's a bit on edge." He rolled over. "I heard you may know who the witch with that un-stable professor is."

Harry had to consider this for a while before he caught on to what Seamus was actually talking about. "Where did you hear that?"

"A little bird told me. And Lavender told her. And Parvati told her, and she said she heard it from you."

"Ah. Well, some relative of McGonagall's, I guess," Harry said. He'd forgotten all about it.

Seamus pulled a sour face. "Why do you have to go and take the treacle out of my tart, Harry?" He flopped back down.

"What?"

"I'm not getting involved with a McGonagall. First thing I did wrong; I'd wind up a fox on hunting day."

"I've seen her. I don't think you stand a chance, anyway."

Seamus dismissively waved that hand that was nearly dangling to the floor without looking up. "I'm Irish, Potter. I've always got a chance."

Breakfast came later on Sundays, but eventually Harry found himself in the great hall, surrounded by an uneasy aura of impending doom. Parvati had hugged him...she'd downright constricted him, but she refused to say anything out of the ordinary. She wouldn't let him stray from her sight though. Not like he could if he wanted to; he was still moving somewhat slow.

They left the common room as a group, and when they reached the great hall, Harry saw that the other students had generally done the same. Their talk was muted, and as Harry looked around, he saw the Headmaster as well as several professors speaking to a group of wizards in important looking robes. When two of the larger ones turned to survey the room, Harry saw Lucius Malfoy. After the ordeal at the ministry, Lucius had been in hiding...he must have wormed his way out of it. Lucius saw him at the same time, and started to move, saying something to the rest of them. Kingsley Shacklebolt stepped in front of him and Dumbledore put a hand on the elder Malfoy's shoulder. Lucius glanced back with a startled look on his face.

Even from this distance, Harry could tell the look radiating from Dumbledore's face. It was very similar to the one he had seen in the Ministry at the end of last year. The look he wore now was not the benign, almost foppish headmaster; it was the wizard who understood innately that he could cause very important things to burst at will. It was combined with the feeling that one got around Connor; that he was a wound up spring, and prepared to pop; by fault or by design. Lucius didn't exactly cringe, but the change in his posture was immediate.

Kingsley placed one large hand on each man's shoulder and turned them away from the Great Hall. A few minutes later, the headmaster tapped the edge of his podium with his wand. It was far louder than it should have been, and all motion immediately stopped. The school governors regarded him from one side of the stage, and the teachers, the other.

Dumbledore cleared his throat, which surely wasn't necessary, as every pair of eyes in the room had to be on him. "I need your attention please." Some of the Slytherins were whispering noisily. Harry heard "Draco", but not much else. Dumbledore slapped the podium with his wand again. Again the thunder crashed. "That is not a request. I'm afraid I have some disturbing news."

[AN] Well, two from the end. Things coming together? I'm going to post another terminator story in the next few days, too. [/AN]