Chapter 15

All Hallow's Eve

A/N: Thank you to everyone who had read and reviewed, it's really great to see that people care about this story. I'm sorry to everybody for the cliffhanger, but I enjoyed it. I guess that means I'm not actually sorry.

Username94: Thank you for the compliment! I always hate how magic is basically limitlessly powerful for everyone without definition in these fics, so I'm trying to put some rules on it so that it makes more sense.

Starfox5: Yeah, Malfoy as a character is really enjoyable for me to write, and it seems that I'm getting some strong emotional responses, so I must be doing a decent job. I hope to flesh him out a lot more than he was in Rowling's originals.

NathanHale2: I have to have cliffhangers occasionally ; )

Meja9201: Thank you so much for the reviews! I'm glad you like it!

Lumony-nox: I'm glad you've liked it, I hope you enjoy this just as much.

Fair warning, this is a long chapter.

Harry awoke to the soft swishing sound of a curtain being drawn closed next to the hospital bed in which he lay and scrabbled for his glasses. After placing them on his face, he saw that it appeared to be early morning and Madame Pomfrey was moving from window to window closing blinds to help keep her patients resting.

Harry felt the left side of his head and was surprised to feel no wound or dried blood from Malfoy's spell. He began to sit up— hoping to climb out of the small hospital bed— before noticing that he was wearing some sort of gown and his clothes had been removed. As he looked for the shirt he had been wearing, Madam Pomfrey noticed him.

"Harry?" She said in surprise. "I can't believe you're awake already. Even with my healing spells it should've taken another day or so before you came to. What are you doing? Lay back down." She seemed quite put out that Harry had had the nerve to sit up. "You need to have a good looking over before you're getting out of that bed. Bad enough you've already been in here twice, but to try to get out of bed as well. Just like your father I guess."

The elderly witch continued to mutter almost as if she were speaking to herself while Harry laid himself back down on the bed and she waved her wand over his body, casting various diagnosing spells. "You knew my dad?" Harry asked with a hopeful tone in his voice.

"Yes, yes." The bustling woman said. "James Potter was always finding himself into the Hospital Wing. I had just begun at Hogwarts when he began attending. Gave me a run for my money he did." She frowned down at Harry. "You look startlingly like him you know, except for your eyes. You have your mother's eyes."

Harry almost tried to look at his own eyes, an impossibility to be certain, but his desire was so great that for a moment he almost forgot that. "My eyes look like hers?"

Madam Pomfrey's maternal face stared at Harry for a moment. It was the first time Harry felt as if this was truly the first time she had focused the whole of her attention on him since he had awoken. "Dear, haven't you ever seen a picture of her?" She almost whispered the words.

Harry shook his head. "Never. There weren't any pictures of her at the Dursleys'."

Madam Pomfrey just stood for several moments. The lack of movement from the usually busy woman was shocking. "I'm sorry dear." was all she managed to whisper. There was a brief pause during which Harry sat and waited for Madam Pomfrey to say something, anything to fill the now-empty conversation. Finally, she said, "You told Professor Flitwick that you were alright only moments before you lost consciousness. Why is that?"

Harry shrugged. "I didn't think it was that bad. I mean there was blood, but head wounds always bleed a lot. I thought it would stop in a minute."

Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips. "Because you have so much experience with head wounds, I'm sure." She said in an admonishing tone.

Harry immediately dropped his eyes to the floor and hoped she didn't notice his nervousness. He didn't like this line of questions at all. Madam Pomfrey's expression softened and she spoke again. "Next time, if your professor tells you to take things easy, listen to him, would you dear?"

Harry nodded, relieved that she didn't seem to suspect that he did, in fact, have plenty of experience with head wounds. Madam Pomfrey nodded back and spoke again, "Well, since that's settled, it seems that you have made a full recovery much faster than I had expected. You'll be alright to go to your afternoon classes if you make sure to have a large lunch as soon as you leave."

Harry agreed hurriedly, not wanting to stay in the sterile room any longer, and within the hour he had departed the hospital wing.

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Harry arrived somewhat earlier than most of his fellow first-years, as they were finishing with a Defense Against the Dark Arts class when he had been discharged. As such, he was mostly done with his meal by the time he started to see his classmates filter into the Great Hall. Ron noticed him sitting at the Gryffindor table and quickly made his way to stand next to the raven-haired boy.

"Harry!" He said loudly. "You're alright! And they've already let you out of the Hospital Wing?" He said with a confused look on his face.

Harry nodded. "Madam Pomfrey seemed surprised, but she said that I had made a full recovery and said I could go to lessons if I ate a big lunch." He nodded at his mostly-finished plate and Ron frowned slightly.

"You should've tried to stay longer. As it is, you got out just in time for Potions with Snape and the Slytherins." Ron almost hissed as he said his hated professor's name. Ron then sat next to Harry and gestured to his plate. "You'll need more than that for this to count as a large lunch. Probably two or three times that."

"Not everyone needs as much food as you." Harry attempted a light joke. He kept a casual face on, but it felt odd to be teasing someone. It was something that Tonks had done, but it took quite a while before Harry was used to it, as the Dursley's had never done anything even slightly similar. He was also a little off-balance due to the portion Ron had suggested. Harry already felt quite full, and Ron said that he had eaten less than half of a good-sized meal. He worried that the boy might notice his continually small portions, and so reluctantly took a handful of small scoops from various plates of food around the table.

Ron laughed somewhat and began digging into the food which threatened to spill from his plate. "So Pomfrey said everything's alright?"

"Yes." Harry replied slowly, wondering why Ron was asking again. Apparently, his facial expression communicated his unspoken question and Ron explained, "It's just that you seemed pretty well beat in Charms. Flitwick was really worried; and when Pomfrey saw you, she got all red and angry, it was quite scary. She even wanted to give Malfoy a week's detentions, but apparently Flitwick bought that it was an accident and he only got one. Once she had calmed down, she told us you shouldn't wake up until tomorrow evening."

Harry smiled. "A little bump on the head won't keep me down that long." His dark tone did not match his smile.

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Entering Potions, Ron and Harry took seats on the farthest side of the room from where Professor Snape's desk was. Although Harry held no particular dislike for the man, Ron felt that he was unfair and prejudiced toward all Gryffindors, and him in particular. As such, he wished to remain far away from the greasy-haired professor.

As they set up their cauldrons, Harry saw Hermione take her place in the front of the class at a table that usually remained empty in part due to Snape's tendency to critique those in front of him most harshly, and partly due to Hermione's choice to sit there. Harry wanted to catch her eye, but she never looked his way. He wondered if that was purposeful or not.

The classroom filled slowly and Malfoy and his friends made a point to take the table next to Harry and Ron's, shooting them dirty looks as they sat. The last students trickled into the room, and Harry and Ron were joined by Blaise Zabini and Seamus Finnegan just before Snape began his lecture.

"Today," Snape slowly intoned. "We will be learning proper methods of ingredient preparation. The basic potions we have been practicing up until now have been nothing more than throwing the right items into a cauldron and drinking the stew. In order to make a potion of any complexity, the skilled practitioner must understand how to properly cut, grind, or otherwise prepare any ingredients necessary."

Professor Snape began drawing diagrams on the board showing different types of cut ingredients. He pointed to each and explained how they differed from the others. Harry was astounded. Apparently, if a recipe told you to cut a strip of dragon leather, it meant a specific crosswise slicing method. To mince was to render small bits of nearly-pulverized ingredient. One could also be asked to cube, chop, or slice, and that was without the different terms used for powders or ingredients that weren't cut.

Harry struggled to take in the massive amount of information that Snape was writing on the board and was scribbling furiously while the professor wrote still more. As soon as his back was turned, Malfoy looked at Harry across the aisle that separated them. "Back from Pomfrey already, are you Potter? Surprised you weren't down for a week after that fall." He whispered.

"Shut up, Malfoy." Ron said darkly.

"Or what?" Malfoy sneered at him. "You'll come over here and teach me a lesson?" He looked at his tablemates and made an embarrassed face. "Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot to introduce my companions. Pointing at the large boy across from him, Malfoy continued. "This is Vincent Crabbe, but we just call him Crabbe. That's Gregory Goyle, and to my right is Edward Avery. All of us are in the High Gentry, which means any of our families is worth a dozen of yours Weasel."

Ron's face was a violent red. "That all depends on how you define worth, Malfoy. At least my family hasn't built our house on blood money."

Malfoy grinned. "You're right, you built it on mud and dung because you couldn't afford stones." He looked to Harry. "Shut your boyfriend up, Potter. Watching him cry and whine over your little boo-boo was enough of him for me."

If possible, Ron turned even redder. Before Harry could respond the redhead was already speaking.

"You don't know a thing about my family." Ron said far too loudly, drawing Snape's attention. He continued, not noticing the black-haired professor's angry look. "And Harry could've died from what you did. Madam Pomfrey said since the spell hit him right in the head he had two simultaneous concussions and—"

"While I'm quite sure we are all interested in Potter's injuries." Snape said sarcastically. "I do not believe that the middle of my lecture is the proper time to be discussing it." He looked at Ron with disgust. "You will report to the Dungeons for detention this Saturday at eight in the evening." He shot Harry a look, but said nothing to him.

Ron was fuming, but didn't speak again until Snape dismissed the lesson, telling all the students that they would continue with practicum of the most common preparation methods over the next few lessons. Harry was relieved that he wouldn't have to remember everything from only today's lesson, but Ron's thoughts clearly lay elsewhere.

"That greasy git." Ron said viciously after they had left the Potions classroom. "Giving me a detention when Malfoy was the one who started it all."

Harry looked to the redhead and, after a moment's hesitation, shrugged. "What did you expect? It's Snape." He said, hoping to appease the redhead. Ron had been being much louder than Malfoy, he knew, but he didn't want to cause a pointless conflict, especially seeing Ron had been attempting to defend him when he had received the detention.

Ron nodded. "Guess you're right, he's always a git."

Harry smiled, keeping the thought in the back of his mind that Ron would probably have gotten a detention from several teachers other than Snape for his actions.

0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Harry stood in a dressing room having just pulled on his Quidditch robes. He held the broom he had been designated to use, a Cleansweep Seven, and tried to fight down his mounting nervousness before his first match.

Gryffindor would be facing Ravenclaw today. Harry's stomach was tied up in knots as he thought about something Oliver Wood had said to him as they marched down to the pitch.

"Alright, Harry. Remember that, in the end, this match rests on you. We'll need you to catch the snitch for us, otherwise the game won't end with a win. You got that?" he had said.

Harry had, for some reason unbeknownst to himself, assured Oliver that he would catch the golden snitch. He had been perfectly confident. Unfortunately, that confidence was entirely falsehood. His palms were sweaty within his seeker's gloves and his shoulders were tense. He looked at himself in a mirror for a moment, inspecting his burgundy and gold quidditch robes, before leaving for the main area of the team's dressing rooms.

He was the last one to enter, and when Oliver saw him he nodded his head quickly. "Alright everyone, this is our first match of the season. We had a great year last year, but couldn't win the cup because of a lousy seeker." He looked to Harry. "But that won't be a problem this year. Just play like I know you all can and we'll have this match, then it'll be on to Hufflepuff and Slytherin before the house season ends. Remember, the better you play, the more likely you'll be chosen for our league team. I've heard rumors that we might be fielding two this year."

There was a collective sigh from the Gryffindor team as he said this. "There's always rumors of that, Wood." Angelina said. "Problem is, they're never true."

Wood shrugged. "Maybe this year's different. Anyway, just remember that we can win this."

With that, the Quidditch team began to file out onto the field and Harry was more confused than ever. He ran up to Fred and George as they exited. "What was all that league team talk about?"

Fred laughed hollowly. "The league team is the real season, at least if you ever want a chance at going professional. Instead of competing with just the Hogwarts teams, it's one team made up of members from all the house teams that competes with other schools. It's usually all sixth and seventh years."

"And usually you have to be from a rich royal family to make it on." George finished. "We always hear rumors that they'll be opening a second team to accept more players so it's more equal, but it's all codswallop."

Harry nodded, understanding the team's resigned look when discussing it. He was just beginning to become nervous again when they entered the pitch and Fred turned to him. "You ready for your first match, Harry?"

"I'm a bit nervous." Was Harry's only reply.

"Don't be." George smiled. "You're a brilliant seeker."

"And," Fred continued. "All that nervousness disappears as soon as you're in the air. Watch and see."

With this, they turned and the team as a whole walked to the center of the pitch. Wood shook hands with the Ravenclaw captain and Madame Hooch, who was serving as referee, called for the players to mount their brooms. Fred and George shot Harry one last grin and pointed into the crowd as they leapt atop their brooms and flew into the air. Harry turned to where they had pointed and saw Ron in the stands gesturing wildly with a face painted a deep red and replica Gryffindor robes. He smiled brightly when he saw Ron accidentally cuff Blaise in the side of his head while he was pumping his fist. If he was this energetic now, imagine what he would do when the game had actually started.

Harry looked at the broom in his hand one last time. He wondered at how different his life had become since attending Hogwarts. He was away from the Dursleys. Even if he had to go back, right now they couldn't touch him. He didn't have to worry about beatings from anyone. Well, anyone except maybe Malfoy or Esther, but they were nothing compared to his uncle. They had rules to follow. Vernon didn't.

And, even more important than the lack of beatings, Harry had friends. True, they were not necessarily the friends of a normal eleven-year-old, but he finally had friends all the same. Tonks was coming to visit, Hagrid had invited him back down for tea, and Ron was sitting in the stands cheering. Harry thought of Hermione last. They certainly weren't friends in the traditional sense, but he felt some responsibility for her, though he wasn't sure why. Every time she pushed him away convinced him even more that he should keep trying to befriend her. He remembered looking in her eyes and seeing the same pain as his. Were they the same? He imagined, for a moment, her living with someone like Vernon. He saw his uncle strike her soft face. He saw her in the cupboard.

Harry's thoughts ended with a tremulous wave of anger that rushed through him at these images. He would find out why she had his eyes, and if she had a Vernon of her own, Harry would find a way to stop him.

Harry mounted his broom and shot into the sky like a dart. The match had begun.

0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Harry swept through the air on his broom, going back and forth between desperately scanning the pitch for any sign of the snitch and watching Ravenclaw's seeker as he did the same. The match had been going on for almost an hour and the score currently rested with Gryffindor behind by forty points. Harry knew from his extensive talks of strategy with Wood that now would be the time it would be most vital for him to succeed. If they were down much further, Harry would have to change strategy to blocking the Ravenclaw seeker and helping the chasers when possible.

Harry looked again to Ravenclaw's seeker who sat suspended in the air a dozen meters away. He too was scanning the pitch, looking for any glint of gold that would give away the snitch. Harry turned away again and looked to where the Gryffindor chasers were making an attempt to score.

"Johnson with the quaffle, to Bell, back to Johnson. She gives it to Spinnet. Takes the shot—and a skillful save by Hatcher! He turns the ball to—" Harry let the endless litany of Lee Jordan slide out of focus when he saw what might have been the snitch. He looked closer. Yes. There it was, right below the Ravenclaw goalposts. Harry remembered the strategy Wood had taught him. He turned toward the Ravenclaw end of the pitch and shot in that direction as quickly as he could. He didn't aim for the snitch for fear that the rest of the Ravenclaws would see it and snatch it before he had the chance to get to it, he aimed instead at an indistinct point about fifty meters to the right of where the snitch was and kept his eyes locked firmly to it to watch for any change in its position.

Harry knew that the Ravenclaw seeker was several feet to his right and racing in the same direction as him, but was unsure whether he had yet seen the snitch. Ravenclaw's other players maintained their relative positions across the pitch from him and began a quick, desperate search for the snitch in Harry's indicated direction. The Gryffindor players also looked for the snitch while continuing their play, with Alicia Spinnett seizing the quaffle from midair when two Ravenclaw players passed it between themselves.

Harry continued his streaking way across the pitch and waited until he was close enough to the goalposts that he could outpace the others to the snitch. He quickly adjusted his course and aimed himself to where the snitch had flitted above him and to his left. This put Harry directly between the Ravenclaw seeker and the snitch, which was exactly what he had hoped for. Harry pressed forward and the Ravenclaw keeper saw his destination. Harry saw his eyes lock onto the snitch, and the seeker shot toward the golden ball, leaving Ravenclaw's goalposts undefended.

Harry was now racing against two of Ravenclaw's players. He was getting closer to the snitch. It was neck and neck between Harry and the Ravenclaw keeper. Harry pushed his broom as hard as it could move. They were a mere twenty-five meters away. Less. Harry had taken a slight lead. He held out his arm. As they each reached for the snitch, Harry and the Ravenclaw seeker collided in the air. Harry's broom turned downward and he made one last wild swing, barely gripping the snitch between his fingers as he fell face forward toward the field below. The crowd cheered uproariously as the safety wards caught him and slowly lowered him to the ground.

"Gryffindor wins!" Harry heard Lee Jordan shout out to the crowd. "Their new seeker catches the snitch from behind to give them the win by twenty points!"

As soon as Harry landed he held up the snitch and the crowds cheering increased to an even greater din. His team swooped down around him and all eyes were on them. After this, Harry was on the receiving end of hordes of congratulations from his teammates and fellow students on his way up to the castle. Fred and George remarked that they had never seen someone take to flying so quickly as he did. Wood just nodded and told him he did well. But the other students were much more raucous.

As he walked, Harry was bombarded by students who told him exactly what he did, and why it was amazing. He found it quite strange to be the center of such attention, and began to feel a slightly nervous fear that something would go wrong. He had no particular reason for it, but he knew from experience that whenever he was the center of attention like this, things turned sour.

This realization put Harry on guard, and he began watching for some unknown threat from those around him. Suddenly, Harry felt a pair of hands clap down on his shoulders and he jumped forward and spun while drawing his wand to point it at his unknown attacker, rattling off the knockback jinx. Harry saw a blur of red as the person who had grabbed him flipped unceremoniously through the air and landed in a heap several feet from where he had begun.

It was Ron. He looked up to Harry with a strange look for a moment before grinning embarrassedly as his twin brothers saw him lying on the floor.

"Brilliant, Potter!" Fred said.

"Yeah, with pranks like that planned we might have to induct you into our order."

"Your order?" Ron muttered the question as he stood up and brushed himself off. "What's it called?"

"Well, my dearest little brother, that is on a need to know basis. As yet, you have shown no excellence in pranking since we arrived at Hogwarts and we are waiting for you to show some initiative!"

"Yes," Fred continued. "I mean look at Harry here. He's just won his first quidditch match spectacularly and he still has the wherewithal to pull off something like that. How he knew you would be the one to grab him is beyond me, but it was perfectly done."

For his part, Harry had pressed himself against the wall and was breathing heavily, hoping to calm his racing heart. His face was red and all he could think was that he hoped no one realized this wasn't meant to be a prank.

"Just imagine where you could go with pranking, Ronald. If you come with us, the world is your oyster. The possibilities are limitless." George said.

"It's high time you began to take your learning seriously." Fred joked. "If you don't start now, you may just end up like Percy."

Both Ron and Harry laughed at this and the four of them continued up to the Gryffindor common room while Fred and George praised the endless career paths that becoming apprentice pranksters would afford Harry and Ron, so long as their mother didn't find out, of course.

0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

It was Halloween morning and Harry awoke, startled. He had had another of his strange dreams. In this one, he had been walking through hallways while voices whispered to him from the walls. They hissed out Harry's weaknesses and their vitriolic words left him feeling dirty. They spoke of torture and murder, and occasionally the walls would shimmer to bring back some memory Harry had of the Dursleys. Near the end of the dream, Harry had found himself in a black and empty room where the voices became shadow, like wisps of ink through the air, and pressed in toward him. He felt as if he were drowning. Suddenly, the shadows settled into a small pool around Harry's feet.

Then the walls changed again, all of them unanimously offering up to Harry the image of a little black-haired boy sitting cross-legged on a wooden floor in an empty room. His face was downturned and Harry heard a soft sobbing as he rocked back and forward. The boy was rambling on and on without pause.

"They won't let me out. They won't let me out. They said I can't get out. They won't let me out." This continued for several moments and Harry saw a door behind the boy with several large locks holding it shut. The boy continued his muttering while Harry watched. Then the boy stopped moving.

"I hate them." He looked to the floor for a moment, then to the walls. "I'll get out." He whispered. Harry felt a strange mix of compassion for the boy, and fear of him. There was something evil in him. Then the boy's eyes met Harry's, and they were black as night. Harry felt terror course through him as the boy spoke one last time.

"Does it hurt to burn?" he said as he lowered his hand to the wooden floor and a sudden fire rose from it to course across the floor and up the walls. The fire went everywhere except that locked door and Harry suddenly heard a noise behind him. He turned and saw what he knew was the other side of that door. The shadows that whispered were rising from underneath it, like wisps of smoke.

"Hello, Harry." The boy said from the walls.

Harry attempted to calm his racing heart as he sat in his fourposter in his shared room. He knew it was only a dream, but somehow it felt real. And that boy scared him worse than anything he had ever seen. He would take a dozen Vernon Dursley's over that one boy. There was something empty in his eyes. Something missing.

Throughout the day, Harry dwelt on the dream. He couldn't focus during classes or meals. There was something that triggered his memory about it, and he felt as if he had heard the boy's voice before. Ron was finally able to break through his haze just before the Halloween feast in the Great Hall.

"Harry!" he said for tenth time as Harry sat in his room, staring idly at the robes he was about to change into.

"Yes?" Harry questioned, honestly not having heard Ron calling for him.

"Hurry up. We're going to be late for the feast if you don't snap out of it. What's the matter with you? You've been out of sorts all day."

Harry shook his head, trying to forget his dream. "I'm fine, just haven't been feeling the best. Maybe some food'll fix me."

Ron nodded. "Food is almost always the best medicine; second only to loads of food." He grinned terrifyingly and Harry could see the deaths of hundreds of sausages, pies, and potatoes in his friend's eyes.

"You scare me sometimes, you know." Harry joked, and the boys laughed their way to the feast.

The Great Hall was filled with almost all of the students at Hogwarts when Ron and Harry entered and made their way to the Gryffindor table, sitting near Neville and Seamus.

"How are you two doing this fine evening?" Ron asked the pair.

"Quite well." Neville chimed. "I didn't get a single detention this week. All the professors said I've made a vast improvement. 'Cept Snape and Binns of course, but I don't know if I can do anything about that."

Seamus nodded as Neville spoke. "I'm just excited for the feast. Be good to get away from the school feel for a bit."

"Food is the best medicine." Ron repeated himself, though it didn't seem entirely relevant to the conversation.

"How 'bout you, Harry. Are you feeling alright? You seemed a bit…" Neville trailed off. "Well, just a bit off, I guess."

"I'm fine." Harry reassured them. "I've just had a lot on my mind."

After this, the boy's talk turned to quidditch, as it often did. Harry didn't know anything about the teams, but Seamus and Ron could quote statistics and plays for the last several years without problem. Neville wasn't as big a quidditch fan as the other three, but he enjoyed listening to their conversation and would participate when he felt capable.

Just before the feast was set to start, Neville turned to Harry. "Harry, can I ask you a question?" he said nervously.

Harry felt a bit nervous himself, but nodded. "What is it?"

"Your family—the muggles you live with—have they told you much about your parents?"

Harry's blood went cold and he felt Seamus and Ron's eyes on him as soon as Neville had asked the question. He knew they were far too attentive for this to be a normal query.

"No." was all he said. His hands were clenched tightly beneath the table.

Neville looked as if he wanted to ask another question, but instead said. "That's what I guessed. My Gran said your mum was known for being good at Potions and that I should ask you for help with it."

Harry was stunned. "She—" He cut off for a moment, finding his mouth dry. "She was supposed to be good at Potions?"

Neville looked at Harry with too-knowing eyes and nodded. Ron and Seamus were quiet for their part, both trying to look as if they weren't hanging on every word of this exchange.

"I didn't know that." Harry said. "I'd be happy to help you, but I'm not sure if I'm your best bet. Potions isn't my strongest class. It might be better to ask Hermione." Harry gestured down the table to where she sat. "Everyone knows she's the best in our year."

Neville looked even more nervous now. "I don't think that's best. She—well she kind of scares me. And I've heard rumors…" he trailed off.

"Rumors of what?" Harry asked sharply.

Ron spoke up next. "Some of the gentry don't like a muggleborn showing them up." He grimaced slightly as he said it, knowing that he had complained to Harry about just that. "They've made it known that things won't go well for any friends of hers. They probably wouldn't back it up, but no one's brave enough to stand up to them for her. She's not exactly friendly herself. And anyway—"

Ron cut off as Dumbledore took the stage and began to speak.

"Well we have had a lovely beginning to our term." The old wizard began. "I hope all of you have learned just as much as you can from our professors, and from each other. School is about not only learning your classes, but also building friendships that will last, and enjoying those friendships." Harry thought the headmaster had looked at him as he said this last. "Why, only today I found myself with two students who I know quite well when, out of nowhere, my robes became a bright pink color." Dumbledore was the only person in the hall that didn't look at the Weasley twins. "I feel that this is just the sort of friendship that you all should strive to cultivate." To his side, Harry saw Professor McGonagall shaking her head weakly, knowing that Dumbledore had just approved students pranking teachers.

"I do not wish to go on overmuch." Dumbledore said loudly. "But I hope that you all remember that making friends that last is a necessary part of your schooling here. No one should be left friendless for any reason." Harry was sure that Dumbledore had looked at him this time. "Finally, I would like to remind our Prefects that we will be meeting and discussing the beginning of this term after the Feast in Professor Flitwick's classroom."

"Now, with that out of the way, let us enjoy our feast." Dumbledore clapped then, and the plates filled with food. The next hour was spent in jovial conversation, with everyone eating and laughing and carousing together. Harry particularly enjoyed the pumpkin pastries that had been served as dessert with the meal. Ron devoured three times his fair share of the food and had to ask Neville for help to extricate him from his seat when they left the Hall.

As they were walking out of the Hall, Harry saw Hermione begin looking around in a panic, searching first her robes and then the nearby floor. Clearly, she had lost something. He watched as she stood up and quickly left the hall. He pointed this out to Ron and the others. "What do you think she lost?"

Ron shrugged. "Should we ask?" Neville said.

Harry felt a moment of uncertainty, then thought on Professor Dumbledore's words. He nodded, and the four of them followed her from the Hall. They were struggling to catch up with her when they turned a corner and saw her stopped in front of Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. Several students stood, watching this apparent confrontation and whispering to each other.

"Give. It. Back." Hermione enunciated every word. Clearly angry. Malfoy laughed.

"You think you'll get it back just for asking?" He looked to his friends, then back to her. "I don't think it belongs to you, mudblood. I think you must have stolen it."

"I didn't steal anything!" Hermione's voice was thick with empty tears. "Give it back or I'll tell Professor—"

"Oh no! You'll report me to a teacher?" Malfoy mocked. "Can't fight your own battles, Granger?"

Hermione looked furious. Harry saw her hands clenching at her sides and her pink cheeks. The hallway seemed to be growing colder. Malfoy held up a wand that was a silvery-white color and twirled it between his fingers.

"If you want this, you'll have to ask nicely, mudblood."

Hermione was just about to respond, when Dark Hair stepped out from the circle of students watching Hermione and Malfoy and approached the blond boy. All whispering stopped at his appearance, and he held his hand out to Malfoy. "Give me the wand." He commanded in the tone of one who fully expected to be obeyed. Malfoy looked at him for a moment, clearly unsure of how to proceed.

"Who is that?" Harry asked Ron quietly. Ron shot him an incredulous look and looked between Harry and Dark Hair rapidly.

"You don't know?" His tone was one of pure astonishment.

"Why would I ask if I knew?" Harry said, frustrated.

Ron shook himself, as if to get rid of some malignant idea, then turned back to Harry. "His name is William Faust. He's the son of the king."

Harry suddenly understood Ron's reaction. "That's the Prince of magical England?" Harry looked at Faust with new eyes. He was thin and tall for his age, easily taller than Malfoy and Ron, both of whom were taller than Harry. He wore fine robes that were a grey so dark they were almost black; and he had bright blue eyes that hid under dark eyebrows.

Ron gave a pained expression, as if he didn't like that definition. "Basically. I'll tell you more later, but his father is technically in charge of most of Europe." He turned back to watch Hermione and the boys.

Faust now held the white wood wand in his hand, turning it over carefully. Malfoy looked less-than-pleased.

"I'm a fair hand with wands, as I've studied wandlore since I was eight. Let me guess." He eyed the wand speculatively. "Clearly, this is Aspen, about eleven inches, and a dragon heartstring core if I don't miss my guess?" He looked to Hermione, who nodded. Harry remembered Malfoy badgering Ollivander in his shop in the hopes he would be given an aspen wand. He guessed that was why he had stolen Hermione's.

"Aspen," Faust said slowly. "is white and fine-grained, and resembles ivory. It is known for its charmwork, as well as a propensity for duelists, being very good at martial spells. Favors strong-minded, determined wizards." He looked at Hermione. "When paired with dragon heartstring, aspen is rumored to be one of the most fearsome wands in existence, drafting complex spells in moments and issuing forth powerful curses." He looked at Hermione. "How did a mudblood like you end up with a wand like this?"

He looked out to the crowd around him, and Harry realized the boy was putting on a show. "I know that all of you don't believe some mudblood—" He spat the word viciously. Harry noticed that he didn't speak like a normal first year, then realized he had probably had training to speak more eloquently. "could have a wand such as this. It is unacceptable. You probably don't even know how to use it do you?" He looked at Hermione, who was crying softly by this point. Harry prayed for someone to show up and stop this. He could see the prince's eyes, and he knew that something horrible was about to happen. He prayed for a teacher, a Prefect, anything. Harry saw that Neville and Seamus were watching wide-eyed as the prince spoke. They could feel it too.

"Let me show you how an aspen wand should be used." Faust said softly. He whipped the wand toward Hermione and yelled, "Diffindo!" Hermione's robes shredded in a dozen places as she held her arms up to shield herself. Harry saw blood on her hands and forearms. He tensed up, angry, but Ron spoke. "Don't do anything, Harry. Faust isn't someone to be on the wrong side of. You just have to deal with him. If you try to stop him, he'll curse you. He's supposed to be one of the best spellcasters the royal family has ever had, and I'm sure he knows some mean curses that he isn't using."

This angered Harry even more, and he looked to Neville. The poor boy was almost crying. "I can't do it." Harry heard him repeating.

Faust looked at Hermione and smiled. Her robes were in tatters, and in several places there was bare skin visible. Harry was relieved that it seemed she only bled from her arms. "I'm sorry." Faust said to Hermione smugly. "I remember you wanted a partner to practice with." He pointed the wand at her stomach. "Propus!" The spell hit Hermione and pushed her harshly into the ground. She lay there for a moment, wheezing.

Faust laughed and much of the crowd laughed along with him. Malfoy was grinning from ear to ear. Harry had never been so angry in his life. He looked at Faust's bright eyes and a small seed of hate formed for the boy in that moment. He was just like the Dursleys. Using his power to make others do what he wanted. Harry looked for someone to stop Faust, but no one was there.

"Does it bother you that your own wand will work against you? It's because you're a filthy mudblood." Faust said. "If you were pure like I am, this wand wouldn't dare turn on its master. You're too weak for it." He pointed it at her a third time. "Wingardium Leviosa!" She slowly rose into the air a few meters before he released the spell and she dropped to the ground. Harry heard her body land with a crunch and she groaned loudly. For a moment, he flashed to his last beating from Vernon, the broken ribs he'd received. He slowly began to walk forward.

Faust turned his back on Hermione and faced the crowd. "With such a poor showing as this, I don't think she deserves a wand, do you?" He called out and received a spattered chant of no's from the gathered students. "She let it be stolen, let it be used against her. I think I'll just break it."

Hermione lay on the ground, clearly in pain. She clutched her arm tightly to her. But at the mention of breaking her wand, Hermione's face became anguished and full of panic. It was at that moment that Harry heard the crowd go quiet, and realized he was standing between Hermione and Faust. He leaned over her. "It's alright. I'll get it for you."

He straightened back up to see that Ron and Neville knelt behind Hermione. They must have followed him into the circle. Harry looked at Hermione's wounds and allowed his anger to flow hotter. Neville was whispering something to Hermione that Harry couldn't hear.

"What is this?" Faust's voice asked behind Harry. He turned back to the prince.

"I've decided to get Hermione's wand back for her. She appears to have misplaced it." Harry said.

Faust laughed. "You've got guts, I'll give you that." He pointed the wand at Harry. "Propus!" Harry's midnight cedar wand was up and out instantly, pushing the spell to the side. He pointed it at Faust.

"Give me back the wand, and I won't hurt you." Harry said in a voice colder than he'd ever used.

Faust appeared momentarily stunned. "You? Hurt me? You're a fool." He retrieved his own wand from his pocket and its red wood gleamed in the firelight. He pointed Hermione's wand at Harry. "Petrificus—" He began, but was cut off as Ron yelled out a spell behind Harry, and Hermione's wand shot from Faust's hand to land on the floor. Faust was furious.

"You dare to cast a spell at me? You are nothing! Nothing! For this I will end you." He pointed at Harry. "Reducto!" Harry deflected the spell and pointed his wand at the floor below Faust. The prince was furious, but nothing could match Harry's fury. "Incendio." He said quietly. The spell hit the floor and flames leapt up around Faust's feet, coming close to his robes.

"Expelliarmus!" Cried Faust, and Harry's wand was wrenched from his hand to clatter behind him. There was a collective gasp as the fire around Faust did not stop. It continued to rise around him, spreading through the corridor, but burning no one. Faust looked at Harry, shocked.

"Very good, Potter." He yelled. "Wonder if you can keep this up while I curse you. Reducto!" The spell shot from his wand and Harry, wandless, caught it with his left hand. He felt a crunch as several bones broke instantly and he screamed. Faust smiled as the flames receded from him. "You are nothing, Potter. You can't touch me. You are weak." He pointed his wand one more time.

Harry saw the same look in Faust's eyes that he had seen in Dudley's, he knew he had to stop him before Hermione was hurt. He fanned his anger and the flames jetted up to catch Faust's outthrust arm for a moment before dissipating. Faust yelped and pulled his arm back as he was burnt, but recovered quickly and turned back just in time to see Harry leaping atop him.

Faust crashed to the floor with Harry atop him. Harry grabbed Faust's arm with his good hand and smashed it to the ground, causing Faust to lose his wand. Faust returned this by striking Harry in the face with all his might. Harry's head rocked back, but then he looked back down at Faust and smiled a terrifying smile. Faust could hit him all he wanted, but Harry was made for beatings. Faust could never be Vernon.

Faust realized that something had changed and was scrabbling against the stone floor to get away from Harry when Harry grabbed him by his hair and smashed his head into the floor. Faust took hold of Harry's broken hand and squeezed, causing Harry to cry out.

"I will break you!" He shouted to Harry. "Every bone in your body." Suddenly, Crabbe and Goyle were on either side of the pair. And Harry felt a kick connect with the ribs on the left side of his body just as his jaw cracked on the right side from a fist. Strike after strike rained down, but Harry refused to let go of Faust. He cackled loudly as the boys beat at him and he smashed his fist into Faust's face, breaking his nose.

The large boys finally pulled Harry off of Faust and threw him to the ground. He laid there, blood on his face and hands, a few broken ribs, a broken jaw, and smiled. He held his hand out to his fallen wand and it zipped into his palm. Through the mass of people that had crowded into the circle, only those closest saw Harry summon his wand. He slowly stood and the crowd was silent again.

Faust's face was pale and blood leaked from his nose. He looked at Harry's bloody right hand holding his dark wand and gasped. "I won't forget this." He said to Harry. Malfoy looked at Harry, grinning madly. "Freak." He called out. "You're not normal."

Harry smiled wider. "I've been told."

The group of boys retreated and Harry fell to one knee. He looked back to see Ron and Neville, both who had clearly been involved in some sort of fighting, having bruises and cuts, and Hermione. She held her wand now and looked at Harry with a strange expression on her tear-streaked face before running to him. She threw her arms around Harry's neck and wept with loud, racking sobs. "Thank you." She whispered over and over.

Harry struggled to remain semi-upright and tried to shake the sense of discomfort he had with her touching him. Something felt different about her touch than anyone else's. He didn't think she wanted to hurt him. He slowly relaxed into her touch, hoping that things would finally be right, knowing that it was never that easy.

Chapter 15 is done! Thank you for reading and please review, I'm quite nervous about this chapter. You all are amazing.

Where were you when I was at the parade?