A/N

It is time for a little bitchiness again, following an idea of a review some weeks ago.

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Secondary Damage

Hogwarts – still 24th of November

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One by one the students and spectators had left the task area, leaving behind a barren tribune with only heaps of rubbish telling of the hundreds of people who had been there barely an hour ago. Daphne had left to visit her mother and Neville departed with a few fellow Gryffindors to prepare a little party. They had invited Harry to accompany him, but he had refused. Now, at last, they understood the danger; now they accepted that no mentally sane fourteen-year-old would willingly take part in the tournament. But Harry needed some time alone, more or less alone at least. Hermione was still there but she didn't count. She was his friend, his sister, she understood and trusted him. And – signs and wonders – she had learned to stay silent in the last months, to refrain from asking too many questions.

"Mister Potter?"

Harry turned around and stood up as he noticed Professor McGonagall. "I wanted to congratulate you for your outstanding performance."

"Thank you, Professor, but a great part of the credit belongs to Hermione, Neville and especially Daphne. Without the help of my friends I wouldn't have been able to accomplish this."

Minerva granted him one of her rare smiles. "Your ability to choose the right friends is certainly one of your greatest virtues."

Hermione and Harry stared at their House Mistress. Her approval of his friendship with Daphne was unexpected but more than a little appreciated. She hadn't said anything against the relationship so far but with Dumbledore not being restrained about his opinion and McGonagall so close to the Headmaster, Harry had feared that she would share his damnation.

Harry couldn't prevent his words from sounding accusingly as he asked: "Then why weren't Neville and Daphne allowed to visit me before the task?"

"It wasn't her decision, Harry," Hermione interjected. Quizzically Minerva stared at her favourite student. With a hint of a blush, Hermione shrugged: "I eavesdropped your conversation with the Headmaster. You both weren't particularly silent."

Now it was Minerva's turn to blush as she remembered how intensive her argument had been. She had been furious when the Headmaster had denied Daphne Greengrass the right to visit Harry without any reasonable explanation. He had no right to interfere like that in the friendships of Harry Potter and his intentions to promote the relation between the boy-who-lived and the Weasley children were a bit dubious at best, dubious like many things he did around Harry.

"We weren't in complete agreement about the matter," Minerva confirmed. "But it was his decision to make. Apparently he assumed that it would be good for you to… restore your friendship with the Weasley family. You have been quite close to them for the last three years. And despite the twins tendency to cause mayhem they had been reliable in the past and good friends."

Harry stared at her, trying to read McGonagall's real thoughts about the family. How close were they? Harry wondered. He had never seen Minerva at the Burrows and despite the Weasleys being a traditional Gryffindor family he saw no similarity concerning their personality. He decided to make a shot in the dark.

"Yeah, they have always been a very orderly family."

He noticed how her pupils dilated. Bingo. She wanted to ask something, but suppressed the words.

"Yes, I know about it. I was told…" He left open who had told him about the Order but certainly Minerva was able to make the right conclusions.

"You shouldn't know…"

"Why not?" Hermione asked angrily: "Because the Headmaster wants Harry to be kept in the dark?"

Minerva flinched but Harry pressed the matter: "I've battled 'him' already thrice. The first time I survived because of the sacrifice of my mother, the other two times only because of my friends and Fawkes. With a bit of support, with a bit of knowledge…"

"Why, Minerva?" Hermione didn't realize that she used Minerva's first name despite someone else being present. "Why is Harry always left in the dark, why doesn't he get training if he's so important, why did he have to live with that terrible family, against the will of his parents?"

Somewhat beaten and with a low voice Minerva answered: "I don't know, Hermione, I really don't know. The Headmaster doesn't discuss his decisions with me anymore, he makes them all alone. It has been like that for a while now. I didn't want to leave Harry with the Dursleys, didn't want him to return there every summer. I didn't know how bad it was there, but I feared…"

"But you obeyed, Professor," Harry glared. "You always obeyed the Headmaster in all his decisions. You complained; you raged, but you never said: NO!" He calmed down a bit as Hermione gently pressed his arm and he even forced a small smile at her. "I obeyed him too for all these years, but you may as well know: I won't do that in the future. I'll make my own decisions from now on. I'll only listen to my friends in the future. And the Headmaster… I don't regard him my friend anymore. He has his eyes on his own agenda too much rather than on my wellbeing."

Minerva stared at him in silence, unable to answer with something sensible.

Harry breathed deeply a few times: "And you, Professor? Are you my friend?"

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"We need some distance," Ginny growled and kicked another pebble away. Her steps were much more forceful than needed and her face resembled a stormy night. Ron was at her side but didn't say a word. Even he knew that it was unhealthy to disturb his little sister if she was in that mood.

"Aargh," Ginny yelled, clenching her fists and causing more than one Gryffindor to turn around and stare at her. They were all on their way back to the dorm and hastily avoided her eyes as Ginny glared at them. She was so furious. Harry belonged to her; it had always been like that. Her mother had read to her the stories of the boy-who-lived for years even before she saw him the first time, back then when Harry and Ron started Hogwarts. At the beginning it all went well. As ordered by their mother they had caught the moment at King's Cross to meet Harry and quickly Ron had been able to make friends with the lonely boy.

Hermione had been a little setback but apparently she wasn't interested in Harry in a romantically way. And in Ginny's first year, despite the ugly experience around Tom's diary, had been not so bad in the end. Harry had saved her life and with her life debt towards him it was only natural that she tried to stay close. Hell, even Hermione tried to help for a while to get them closer to each other. For a year all went well, the progress was small but steady. Ginny had set her eyes on the Yule Ball and was ready to be Harry's girlfriend on Valentine's Day at the latest.

Enter the bitches, Ginny groaned.

The Greengrass bitches had crashed all her plans. The mother had started to court Harry, tried to fetch the place of his surrogate mother, a place that belonged to Molly Weasley for years. Invitations, holidays, family feasts and the traditional Christmas sweater – how could he forget all these signs of motherly love and simply turn to that black-haired cow?

Ron was certainly not helping. More than once Ginny had felt the dire urge to throttle her brother. He had annoyed Hermione, he had angered Harry. His envy had been enough reason for him to openly defy Harry after the Champions' choosing. Yes, he was right about Harry cheating his way into the tournament – that or someone like Dumbledore had intervened on his behalf. But did he have to say it out loud? Couldn't he simply shut his mouth?

For a while he had been able to make friends with other Gryffindors, especially Dean and Seamus. But his latest behaviour, especially towards Hermione, had been enough to drive them away again. Even Ginny was disgusted about how Ron behaved towards Hermione, how often he insulted her despite her help. How intensive must these feelings be for someone not belonging to the family? In the moment Ginny didn't knew a single student that wanted to be friends with Ron. Hell, even Cedric had showed quite openly what he thought about the red-head. Before the task was even over, everyone knew about the little scene that ended with Ron's expulsion from the tent.

Every setback had darkened Ron's mood and every darkening of his mood and foul language had only severed the situation. Ron could only break that circle through an honest and heart-felt apology – nothing he was able or willing to do.

Ginny was seething inwardly. She needed Harry. His fame, his wealth, his name – he was her ticket away from her family, away from poverty. They were Purebloods but dirt poor and without any influence. Her father would never reach a position in the Ministry to gain fame and status. Perhaps Percy would be more successful with his boot-licking, but Ginny doubted it. He was far too dumb in choosing whom he supported, made too many enemies on his way. Intellect is not all, Ginny pondered.

At least he had been able to make his NEWTs, something that wasn't certain for her. The twins already spoke about ending the school prematurely and Ron… he was so dumb and lazy, Ginny didn't expect anything from him school-wise. And he was not even intelligent enough to understand that without Hermione's help he wouldn't even make his OWLs. Ron, the great Quidditch professional – dream on. He wasn't nearly talented enough for that. Only thanks to Harry's pleading he had gotten the position in the team. Even the Chudley Cannons would laugh to his face. No, without some kind of miracle he wouldn't make his OWL and Molly would find another solution for his future, perhaps a low paid job at the Ministry in Arthur's department.

And as if this wouldn't be bad enough: Ginny was sure how Ron and his envy would end things for her. If he wasn't allowed to go to school after the OWLs he would rage and pout about Ginny being sent to school. Ginny wasn't a Hermione Granger or Padma Patil, but until now she had been well in her marks, far better than the twins and Ron. But he would complain about the money and in the end their parents would agree, that a girl didn't need NEWTs.

Her mother had never been employed, had always been mother and housewife. She expected Ginny to do the same and you didn't need NEWTs for that course of life. Money had always been rare in the Weasley's home. Only Hermione's support of Ron's intellectual deficits and the prospect of Ginny being Harry's girlfriend and later fiancée would be enough to convince Molly to send Ginny to the school after finishing the OWLs, no matter how good a student she really was.

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While Ginny was pondering about her future, her chances to take her NEWTs and how unfair life had been, Ron stayed more or less silent too. Inwardly he groaned and grumbled, his ire targeted at the same person he had come to hate since summer break.

"Why do I have to be friends with him," Ron wondered. "I really can't stand him and his constant attention-seeking. And now he turns everyone against me."

Not only had Harry always had money and fame, the young witches at Hogwarts steadily trying to get near to him and even the teachers did everything to make his life easier. Ron shuddered angrily as he remembered how Harry had been allowed to join the Quidditch team in the first year, Harry… not Ron. And this year, the first year with an open keeper position, with Oliver Wood gone Ron at last had the chance to join the team only to hear that this year there won't be any official games. Unfair, unfair, unfair, Ron growled, ignored by his sister. It was Harry's fault somehow, Ron was certain about that.

There would be unofficial games at least. The first had been against Hufflepuff and they had won 290:220. But instead of congratulating him, they all had only spoken about Ginny catching the golden snitch. It wasn't his fault that the Hufflepuff chasers had been better than Angelina and her comrades. No wonder that the new ream captain wouldn't see any fault in her play, that it had been 140:220 against Gryffindor before Ginny's catch. The girls simply had to try harder next time. Instead Angelina had demanded that he train more. As if he could.

With Hermione unwilling to do his homework, he did not have as much time for playing as he wished. Next year she'd better come back to her senses. He needed her help to reach reasonable OWL marks, while he concentrated on his career. While everybody else went to the library, he would train as never before. He would show them all what kind of player he was and after the OWLs he would join his dream team, the Chudley Cannons. For a moment pictures of team captain Ronald Weasley leading the Cannons to the Championship crossed his mind and a happy smile played around his lips.

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"Ron?"

A small hand, a forceful slap to his head, brought Ron back from his daydreaming.

"What was that for?" He growled, but Ginny was hardly impressed and simply entered the Gryffindor common room. A few other Gryffindors were already there; Dean, Seamus and Neville among them, preparing the party to celebrate Harry's performance, to welcome him back into the embrace of his house mates.

The happy smiles and playful banter were enough to make Ron's blood boil again. Never had they done something similar for him. Why not? He could have done this dragon-egg-thing quite the same. He wanted a party for himself, he deserved it.

Ron didn't notice his sister crossing the room. Her anger was rising even more. The thought of Harry's success at the task only reminded her of the event afterwards, how he asked that bloody cow to be his date. It was horrible enough that Harry had asked the Greengrass girl to accompany him to the ball instead of her. Certainly it had been out of some stupid idea of obligation to her family, because nobody else would invite that bloody slut. But then he had the nerve to ask her to be his date… his date. Ginny felt like screaming at the top of her lungs.

Shoving Colin Creevey aside – the boy had tried to make some snapshots of the preparations – Ginny marched with thundering steps towards the staircase to the girl's dorm. While she ascended the steps, the picture of Daphne played amok in her mind. Her smile teased her, her long hairs invited to be pulled off. How she would love to smack away that stupid grin from that ugly face…

A small meow prompted Ginny to look up. On the railway near the top of the staircase a little bundle of fur was waiting. Great! She had forgotten to feed him this morning because of the tournament. For three months she had been caring for that ugly beast – many thanks! Begging, Balou stared at Ginny, his black fur… black… as her hair.

Something snapped in the girl's mind at that moment, something was too much for her to control her anger any longer. The constant bickering of her mother, the scolding of the twins about Ginny's behaviour towards Daphne, Harry's refusal despite all she had done for him. And then this blasted tomcat had the nerve…

An angry slap whisked the tomcat away from the railway, followed by an equally angry kick that sent him against the wall. Something snapped audibly in the tomcat, someone yelled her name. Now she was in even more trouble, Ginny mused, a red haze over her mind. It was the tomcat's fault that Harry would now hate her even more. Balou tried to stand up, but one of his legs seemed to be hurt. One of the boys tried to follow her, but the staircase sent him back, didn't allow a boy near the girls' dorm. In a dreamy state Ginny stepped near the tomcat, a cruel smile on her lips.

I'll show you, she thought, I'll show you all.

A vicious kick hit the side of the tomcat, broke instantly some of his ribs and sent him flying through the room, six, eight yards away and down to the ground of the room. With a nerve-wracking smack he hit the floor and remained there lifeless. Ginny saw nothing of this really, her mind only on her hurting foot. Turning around as if nothing had happened she entered the girls' dorm and closed the door behind her.

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Daphne was sitting on one of the Hospital beds, thinking quite happily about the first task and reading in a book her mother had gotten from Madam Pomfrey. Not only had Harry succeeded, following Hermione's tactic and her training, but he had done so without any bruises. Flipping the pages she decided that this book about organ injuries would be an interesting lecture for the winter break. Daphne didn't notice the content looks from Madam Pomfrey and her mother. Her mother was content because of the altered invitation to the ball as Harry's date. Perhaps it was time to tell the teenagers about the second contract. And Madam Pomfrey was content because she hoped that Daphne inherited her mother's talent for the healing arts.

Poppy belonged to the small circle of persons who knew about Roxanne and her hours of helping a Healer in the poorer districts of London under the cover of Polyjuice. Poppy had always been impressed with the power of Roxanne's healing spells and had read in a few letters from her that Daphne had started her training a year ago under the cover of learning emergency spells in case of household incidents. That Cyrus was buying this cover story was only proof for his battiness, in Poppy's opinion.

Daphne had followed her mother and the school nurse into the Hospital where the ladies were speaking about some inventions her mother had learned about in her Muggle studies. More than once Roxanne had told her about all those medical gadgets Muggles used for diagnostics. Computed tomography had been especially interesting. Astoria would have liked it, Daphne thought with a hint of grief. With Daphne more interested in Muggle Art and Architecture, Astoria had always been quite fascinated with the technology. Unlike Arthur Weasley, a man they only knew by sight, the younger Greengrass girl wanted to know how they worked, wanted to understand the principles behind them.

Roxanne had always been very supportive of this and Astoria certainly knew more about electricity and electronic than an average Muggle teenager of her age. But all this had changed after her engagement to Malfoy. Trying to please the stupid prat she had stopped to read Muggle books and suppressed any further interest about the matter. This was another point in a long list of reasons to hate Malfoy.

Her mood must have been showing on her face, because her mother interrupted her thoughts: "Daphne, dear, something on your mind?"

Daphne sighed: "Malfoy. I was only thinking about Malfoy the prat."

For a moment Roxanne pondered about scolding her daughter for her language, but she kept her tongue, her opinion about the young Malfoy being simply too similar.

Just as Daphne wanted to turn her attention towards the book again, the door to the Hospital opened and someone walked in. Daphne interest about the visitor turned to full-fledged horror as she realized that it was Neville Longbottom who entered the hall with a stony face. At his side walked Ciddy, a large cushion hovering in front of the petite house elf with the broken and bloodied form of something that Daphne recognized as Balou only because of the colour of his fur. Gently Neville put the cushion on a bed and looked begging at Madam Pomfrey. "We didn't want to apparate with him," he whispered, before he thanked Ciddy for her help.

Instantly Roxanne started to cast a complicated spell and above the tomcat a three-dimensional picture appeared, showing his bone structure and his organs in different colours, rendering visible a large number of injuries.

"What's that?" Poppy asked, impressed by the spell and the knowledge she got about this patient. She realized instantly the benefits of having such a spell handy, especially when more than one Healer was working on a patient.

"It is a spell I researched with the help of one of mother's colleagues. I copied something Muggle Doctors have been using for a few years. I found a description in a book and thought it could be helpful."

"It's terrific. You should publish this spell. I know some Healers at St. Mungo who would kill for a spell like this."

"I know," Roxanne sighed. "We're working on it. But with all the work invested we can't simply give it away and some pureblooded Ministry jerk so far denied to accept its usability and worth. For months we're…"

"Would you please shut up," Daphne yelled. She had tried to learn something about Balou's condition from Neville but he hadn't been willing to say what happened before the tomcat was healed. Listening to her mother and Poppy with rising anger, she now had enough. "Talk later about this and help him, damn it."

Ashamed both women only nodded and started to examine the tomcat, speaking quietly what could be done. "It is difficult to help him," Poppy explained after a while. "I don't have much experience with healing animals and a patient this small… with our usual spells and the usual amount of magic involved, we could do more damage than good."

"But we must do something," Daphne begged, near tears. "We must help him."

Poppy was silent for a moment, thinking about what to do. It was Roxanne's turn to answer: "Not we – you."

"What?" Both Poppy and Daphne demanded to know.

"Your healing spells aren't nearly as powerful as mine. But it's not power we need here but delicacy. Remember how well you have been treating those children at the Easter Break. You should cast the spells, at least the most important one. This will give him time to recover with weak-dosed potions."

"I… I can't. What if I hurt him even more?"

Neville, who had been silent so far, stepped at her side and put an arm around her. "I'm sure your mother knows what you're able to do. Please, do it… for him." He left unspoken whether he meant Balou or Harry, possibly both. He hugged her anew and, after a supporting look of her mother, Daphne nodded weakly.

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In silence Daphne - her mother sitting at her side with an arm around her exhausted daughter - watched Madam Pomfrey apply another potion to the tomcat. She had been working for over an hour, weaving small healing spells on the tomcat, trying her best to ease his pain and avoid a circulatory collapse. She had only mended the most dangerous injuries and set the broken bones right to allow them to heal correctly over the next days.

"He'll live and I'm quite sure that he won't be crippled. I can't say much more at the moment," Poppy announced, to everyone's relief. Pondering, she stared at Daphne. "Next year you'll be a fifth year, won't you? That will allow you to take Healing as an elective course. I expect to see you in my class. Mister Longbottom will be there too, I believe."

Daphne glanced at Neville and the boy nodded with a smile. "I wanted to combine knowledge about Herbalism, Healing and Potions. I'm not quite sure what I'll do later but these themes interest me. I would be happy to see you there."

"I… I don't know," Daphne responded. "I know that my mother is really interested in the healing arts but at the moment I have no idea what I'll do later."

"Irrespective of your later career," Poppy responded, "you shouldn't ignore your talent. Your mother was right about the power of your spells but I've seldom seen someone so… feeling… with his spells."

"Okay," Daphne agreed after a supporting smile of Roxanne. "I'll at least think about it."

Turning around towards Neville, Daphne's face changed from soft to stormy in seconds: "Now that Balou is cared for, Neville, it's time to tell me what happened." Glaring at the gulping boy, who sensed a large amount of trouble upcoming, she demanded: "Spill!"

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A/N

About the Quidditch game: Yes, every other observer would comment that the Gryff chasers had been far better than the Hufflepuffs, but with Ron as a Keeper…

But this description was the very special sight of Ron Weasley, Quidditch prodigy.

What kind of reaction do you want to see towards Ginny? My son is a great friend of the Crucio spell, but to my regret that isn't an option. What would be appropriate?