I do not own anything here, nor am I making a profit from this. It is purely to pass my time, and hopefully, interest other people. J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter, not me.
A big big thank you to violetkitty02, Petrichor-3, ParanormalMoonlight, Agent L, Icy eyed Angel, Angel-Miyu, Allyieh, xSaffire55x, VampQhuinn, MDarKspIrIt, and SevLoverKat for the reviews!
Ps - I'm sorry for the cliffhanger for this chapter :)
Chapter Three - The Wrong Side
Draco had never considered himself a cruel person.
He couldn't deny the fact that he had had his fair share of taunting over the years, that he had been the reason that several first years burst into tears. He knew that whenever the mudbloods and blood-traitors of the school were furious or terrified, that it was almost certainly because of some plan he had concocted. And he knew that he, solely, could effectively control every single Slytherin's actions to suit his very whim; be it to mock, insult, or ridicule other students. It wasn't malicious, it was control.
And anyhow, they all brought it on themselves.
If someone slandered the Malfoy name, they were ostracized. If they belittled him, they were punished. And if they, Salazar forbid, think themselves better than him, they had better hope that Draco didn't come after them himself, for they would leave that fight a testicle short and the unfortunate (or fortunate, in Draco's opinion) lack of ability to procreate.
No, he had never felt particularly cruel.
But as Draco stood by the hospital wing window, watching a numb Potter collapse by the edge of the lake, sobbing hysterically, he unconditionally believed himself the cruellest bastard to live.
.
.
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Harry stared at his clock blankly, wanting nothing more than to just curl up in his blankets again and ignore the fact that he had class to attend. He was tired, and sore, and just healed…and there was nothing to do in class anyway except watch his peers jealously and curse his own existence. There was no real reason to attend. After the mishap in Transfiguration, Harry would happily pack his bags and run for the next train. What was the point? If that was going to happen, he would will it to snap his neck instead of his arm.
The fact remained, he was nothing better than a squib now; there was, for the first time in his life, nothing at Hogwarts for Harry. Or, that was what he repeated as a mantra inside his head.
That was the reason for his hiding. Definitely not the fact he didn't want to face the unnaturally observant blonde git from hell, who unsurprisingly, shared most of his classes.
Double Defence. Transfiguration. Charms. Study. Five of his six classes today were spent with the insufferable, attentive little twat. Five of them. God, it would be better to reapproach Romilda and threaten her with every Gryffindor present; that way, at least, he would survive with his dignity intact.
Slowly, the clock ticked down. He only had five minutes until Transfiguration. McGonagall would protect him there, wouldn't she?
Knowing his brain and sense of useless guilt was against him, Harry swung out of bed slowly and gathered his equipment for class. At least in that class, he was seated away from the slimy backstabbers…and closer to the traitors in red.
Why hadn't any of them checked up on him? After a few hours Harry had gotten stiff from the cold and ventured back inside. The common room had been empty. Everyone had been asleep. Not a single person had checked on Harry in the hospital wing, or, it seemed, been even inclined to worry. Now his job was done, no one cared.
Even Ron and Hermione hadn't checked on him. Neither had woken him this morning either. Sure, they were in a tiff yesterday, but hadn't they calmed down after he had been hurt? Even seeing their friend in obvious pain, they hadn't quelled their anger towards him?
Was this what Harry came back to Hogwarts for?
Slowly his feet took him through the castle, they too not willing participants of the day. They wanted to drag Harry back to the comfort of his bed, where it didn't matter if he was angry or upset or hurt; once you were asleep, in either dreams or the reoccurring nightmares, you weren't dy…ill. The bed never snapped at Harry either.
He had reached the door all too soon for his liking. Knowing he was late anyway, he sighed again before pushing open the door, blatantly not meeting anyone's gaze. His feet shuffled forwards hesitantly, taking him to a deserted seat at the very back of the room. Alone. Isolated. Apparently where Harry belonged.
Wait, wasn't that a good thing? If everyone was angry at him…he couldn't hurt them, could he? If this thing gained control and destroyed his body…no one would mind. There would be no regrets over joining a war to save a boy already dying. There would be no tears, no more people that decided enough loss was enough…everyone would be fine, as long as Harry kept his distance from them.
How lonely.
"…Mr Potter…you will take the notes for yesterday. Do not attempt this spell." Like he needed to be reminded. Harry watched sullenly as his peers began changing their nail colour, before moving on to their eyebrows and hair. He only watched the Gryffindors. He would be bloody damned before he glanced at the green side of the room.
Despite fact that Harry felt someone staring at him throughout the lesson, he had managed to keep his head down and not glare at anyone except his unfortunate quill. Thank god that the class had ended rather quickly, his 'friends' and classmates groaning as they copied the homework and scurried for the exit. Harry's had already been completed.
Groaning inwardly, Harry hesitantly approached McGonagall's desk, waiting until the door had finally snapped shut before turning to stare at her hands. After yesterday, he couldn't meet her eyes. Not after the hopeless pleading she had done, not after she had shown him the weak side of her…even in the bloody headmistress, there was no stability to be found at Hogwarts. How comforting.
"I need a fake wand." Harry said to a particular pretty quill on the desk, "They'll notice if I don't try. With a fake wand, at least I look only incompetent."
"…Harry-" God, even her voice was laced with sympathy; sympathy that she had no given right to offer! She wasn't the one with this thing invading her body!
"I just need a fake wand." Harry drudged out, his stare turning to a glare as the quill mocked him. A bloody quill would live longer than he would.
He barely restrained rolling his eyes as McGonagall sighed heavily, swishing her wand to provide Harry with a replica. He slowly put his own wand away, and instead picked up the copy. It was a hollow mimic of his original, without the residue of any magic at all. Perfect.
Charms was actually interesting, now that Harry could pretend to be trying. He waved his 'wand' around perfectly, muttered incarnations with just the right amount of frustration, and tried not to seem too amused by Flitwicks nervous expression every time he tried out the spell. Perhaps this day was looking up after all. Of course, none of his paper folded into miniature animals to leap across the room, but it was interesting nevertheless. Especially Malfoy's dragon, which even had paper flame when it opened its mouth. It would have been more impressive if Hermione had managed to create it instead, though.
Maybe it was his complete inability to cast a simple spell that had Hermione approach him after dinner. Some sort of vicious kick-the inept-when-they're-down tactic.
Harry glanced up completely surprised as Hermione pulled up a chair at his table at the library, pulling out a book and reading it as if this was nothing strange at all. She didn't even glance at him as she read the novel, occasionally flipping a page or nodding to herself.
Only when Harry went back to his Defence essay did she speak, in a tone as if she were scolding a child lightly. "You know, I think this fight has gone on quite far enough."
"You're telling me." Harry muttered, rolling his eyes as she flicked the next page quite savagely.
"Harry, you know that Ron is just angry right now, and that he doesn't hold a grudge." Yes, yes he bloody well does! "But try to look at it from his point of view. We haven't seen you the entire holiday, months even. As soon as the last battle was over, you disappeared. You even missed Fred's funeral."
"But that wasn't-"
"I know it wasn't your intention, Harry, but we couldn't even find you to tell you when it was. Everyone expected you there, hell, we needed you there…and you weren't. And then, you're almost completely silent on the train. And then, you go straight to bed after the opening feast. And then, you don't talk to us nearly as often as you used to. You either 'um' or 'yeah' or nod you head, no actual sentences. It hurts, Harry. We're your friends; we need you to at least acknowledge our existence."
Harry swallowed tightly, clenching his grip on the quill. She was joking, right? Did she want him to curse everyone within a ten meter radius, or did she find it fun to push all the wrong buttons?
"This summer was especially hard on Ron, Harry. He needs his best friend, now more than ever. And, then to see you fraternizing with the Slytherins of all people-"
"That was not my fault!" Harry jerked around to stare at Hermione, his anger only growing as she only continued her façade of reading her stupid bloody book. Growling, Harry ripped it from her grip and literally threw it to the other side of the room. "Bloody look at me at least! No one left me any seats, the only ones left was-"
"I know that Harry!" Hermione finally snapped back, slamming her hand on the table. "But Ron doesn't! He's jealous, Harry, like he's always been of you! He doesn't want to lose his best friend, and all he sees is how further you're drifting away!"
Ouch.
Harry blinked, swallowing tightly as Hermione continued cruelly, successfully finding something that had connected with Harry, if not for the reasons she thought.
"Ron is terrified of losing you Harry! He's already lost one brother, and he sees you as one too! Don't let him lose another brother! It'll destroy him! And you, who know Ron best, should know perfectly well that he isn't the most articulate person, and when he gets jealous, he tends to push away those close to him! Just give him another chance, Harry! Be his brother!"
Harry could only nod hopelessly, clenching his nails into his palms as if to stop the stinging in his eyes. And there was the brunt of it. He was going to leave…and Ron would be completely lost and devastated by it. Another life he had effectively destroyed, without lifting a fucking finger.
"…thank you, Harry." Hermione suddenly lunged at Harry, sniffling as she buried her face in his neck. "Come on, come out of hiding and join us in the dorm."
"…No…I have too much homework to do as it is…I'll meet up with you later…promise."
Harry watched impassively as his friend left the room, a new bounce to her step, as if all her worries had suddenly been taken care of, as if she had no fucking care in the world-
Harry growled savagely, tossing his table away from him and barely noticing it as it flipped through the air, books and papers being flung about the room. He had returned to Hogwarts …for this?
.
.
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The next few days past in a blur for Harry. Wake up at six and hide near the lake. Go to breakfast, but eat nothing. Classes. Take potion. More classes. Pretend to be pathetic at magic. Listen to the jokes, make believe that you're smiling, fail a bit more. Pretend to eat dinner. Engage in drivel games with Ron and Hermione. Pretend to go to bed early. Sneak to hospital wing at midnight, take more potions. Sneak back to common room. Have nightmares. Wake up at six.
It was getting harder and harder to get up each morning, with the same continuous, tiring routine hissing around him as soon as he jerked awake. God, the nightmares were worse than they had been before.
Dreams about Voldemort making inferi from Fred, Lupin, Sirius, Lavander, Colin… people being tortured, somewhere, and only their screams being rebounded through Harry's head… Dreams about Harry sitting alone in the hospital bed, his eyes sunken and dead, his breathing small gasps…his wand lying just out of his reach. He would reach for it, plead for it, try to do magic just so it would hopefully kill him this time… trying to rip out the oxygen machine to let himself simply suffocate, but his arms were too frail, without muscle, too weak to pull out a simple cord…pleading with Ron to simply kill him, but his friend would laugh instead, shaking his head moodily. "You're my brother. I won't lose you." Dreams about finally reaching the knife and plunging it into his chest…for it to be healed a moment later by a monster in a lime-green uniform…
And Harry would wake up, trembling, sweating, bringing his hands to feel his face, to ensure he wasn't that hollow shell of a being that this thing was trying to make him out to be. No, he would never be that. He was Harry Potter; saviour, hero…tired.
.
.
.
As soon as Harry entered the hospital wing, he was bombarded by enraged shrieking. It did nothing to improve his growing temper, or current headache.
"Foolish boy! I was told you practised in both charms and defence today? Didn't I warn you about doing that? Who cares if you can make a teapot dance, if you snap your neck while doing so?!" Wow. She was furious today. "In your condition, you shouldn't be doing any magic!"
Sure, he had tried in class. The fake wand was working, however. "I'm not falling behind, especially like this. I returned to pass my NEWTS, not watch everyone else pass them."
Pomfrey just tutted at him, shaking her head and thrusting his potions towards him, forcing him to sit on his usual bed. "The sidelines are exactly what you need, Mr Potter! Do you even comprehend how serious this is? You need a guardian that won't tolerate your lack of interest towards your own life! Exam's can be redone, when you're healthier to do them!"
"…I make my own decisions now, thanks. I'm overage, and I intend on passing my exams. This year." Harry said quietly, hoping she would drop the subject and yet knowing that once riddled up, she would continue for hours. Do them when he was healthier? No use prolonging the inevitable.
"Gryffindors have too much courage in my opinion; you demonstrate nothing but pure idiocy! You don't mind waking me up in the middle of the night to get your potions, but you won't do as you're told! I would rather you be a Hufflepuff right now, with nothing but respect, and a healthy dose of fear!" She snapped. "Drink your potions. Now."
Harry nodded, used to this nightly lecture by now. She wasn't usually as angry as she was tonight, but at least when she was angry she wasn't crying or avoiding his eyes. Harry tipped the first potion back, and froze.
Someone was occupying the bed opposite him. Awake.
The slightly glowing eyes blinked at him.
Harry swallowed the potion, picking up the next and hastily running through every possible situation. How much had they heard? How much had they guessed? Bloody hell, Harry and Pomfrey had almost had a shouting match over Harry's health!
The eyes blinked again.
"Wait for another ten minutes for them to settle, and you can make your way back. Are you taking the Stabilizer around midday? Yes? Good. I'll see you tomorrow, Mr Potter." Fan-fucking-tastic. If they didn't guess who it was before, now they defiantly knew.
Harry stared back at the eyes, making up his mind. He needed to know who it was, and to tell them to keep his secret. He shuddered to think what would happen if they didn't…the entire school would know he was sick twenty minutes after the kid left the hospital.
Determined, Harry swung his feet over the bed, intending to head over to the student and beg them not to say a word, when a cool drawl stopped him.
"Don't even think it, Potty. Another step and you'll be cursed."
…
Fuck!
"…Sure." How he managed to keep his voice relatively calm, Harry didn't know. Only that it felt as if it was about to curl up and suffocate him the next time he spoke. And hell, Harry would even let it. "What are you doing listening in on conversations, Malfoy? I thought you grew out of that at least five years ago." Why the hell was he antagonising him?
"I'm mending." Came the cold reply. "I would suggest you're here to gloat with the other pathetic Gryffindor's apparent prowess at injuring me, but from what I just heard, I doubt it. Sound to me like you're sick, Potter."
The confusion Harry had felt at hearing his friends had apparently attacked Malfoy vanished as soon as the Blonde Git had finished the sentence. He probably deserved it anyway. "Good inferring; it's really amazing what you can come up with. Someone in the hospital at night taking a simple pain reliever. I'm astonished you're not in Ravenclaw." Did he know how dry Harry's throat was? Could he somehow tell he was lying when he was across the room?
"I know you're sick, Potter." His tone sent shivers though Harry's spine.
"You have no idea what you're talking about."
"And I also think I'm the only one that knows." Malfoy continued over Harry, speaking calmly as though he knew he had Harry rooted to the spot; and being Malfoy, he probably did. "Otherwise, your disgusting little pets would have followed you here. That leaves me in a very nice position, wouldn't you say?"
"It would, if I were actually sick."
"Why are you in the hospital if you're healthy? Why would you take three vials of potions? Why would you need a…stabilizer, was it, at midday? And why would the patron be pacing for a good twenty minutes before you got here, pulling her hair out and contemplating going to you instead? It must be by vivid imagination." Harry could tell Malfoy was smirking, his tone smug and amused. God, this was the worst possible scenario. Even Parkinson would be preferred to be here than Malfoy…She could be bought, at least!
"Shut it, Malfoy. I'm here for study purposes. I'm training to be a healer."
"Good try. Wasn't it a 'simple pain reliever'?"
Harry swallowed again, watching as the silver glows blinked again, obviously pleased. He wasn't going to be able to lie out of this one. He was just thankful that Malfoy couldn't see him properly; everyone could always tell as soon as he lied.
"Malfoy, it's really none of your business if I'm slightly ill or not. It's nothing. A slight cold, an injured rib. Nothing. You have nothing on me." Please, please just believe it and shut up!
"If only I could be inclined to somehow consider your ramblings." Harry sighed in frustration, clenching his teeth together furiously. "So what is it Potty? Cancer?"
"It's nothing like-"
"Somehow your magic depleting?" Holy shit, he couldn't do legilimency, could he?
"You have no idea-"
"Don't tell me you're dying? After all the effort the Dark Lord put into killing you, some illness is going to-"
" SHUT UP!" Harry was almost as shocked as Malfoy as he bellowed at him. He was thankful that the darkness hid his face. Hid his fear. "It's nothing!" He spit out, clenching his hands on the sheets furiously. "You have nothing on me, because I'm not sick! I am not dying, I'm perfectly healthy! If I could defeat bloody Voldemort, a fucking illness won't be a problem! So, for your deaf ears, and to destroy your fucking vivid imagination; I. Am. Not. Sick!"
Harry didn't wait for a response as he tore from the room, letting it slam against the wall as he escaped. Shit. Shit! Shitshitshit! By morning, everyone in the castle would know! They would know and judge him, and regret helping him through the war…and nothing would be the same again!
Harry wiped away the tear that managed to escape his eye savagely, cutting his cheek but not caring in the slightest. Out of all the students in the school, why did Draco fucking Malfoy have to be in that room?!
.
.
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Harry entered the Great Hall quickly, making his way to his seat with his head down and shoulders squared. Merlin, why the hell did they have to sit so far down the table? He accepted a hushed silence, he expected the gossiping to start, the whispers he so loathed to flitter about the room…nothing.
Harry sat down, swallowing tightly as he glanced around. No one was watching him, even less talking about him… what the hell? Harry glanced at Malfoy, who was eating quietly, occasionally speaking to either Zabini or Parkinson. He…hadn't told anyone?
"Oi, Harry." Harry glanced at Ron, tensing as he expected the demand to come…except Ron was looking over his shoulder. Harry followed his gaze, surprised as a beautiful eagle flew through the air, landing directly in front of him.
With trembling hands Harry untied the single parchment, unrolling it with a sick feeling through his stomach.
"That's Malfoy's bird. Why is that git writing to you?!"
Harry glanced at the Slytherin table, the impassive Malfoy decidedly refusing eye contact. What the hell? Harry stared at the single word on the paper.
Denial.
Snarling, Harry tore up the paper, tossing it to the floor as he jerked his head up to glare at Malfoy again. This time, the blonde git was staring straight at Harry, an elegant eyebrow raised and a smirk on his face.
A challenge if Harry ever saw one.
And who was he to deny a challenge?
.
.
.
"Wanna play a quick game of quidditch, Harry?" Oh. Quidditch.
Harry blinked, suddenly feeling a hell of a lot lighter than he had a few minutes ago. Quidditch. Why hadn't he thought of that before? You didn't need magic to play, hell, you only needed to stay on the broom! He could feel free and normal again in the air! Who cared if Malfoy was going to spread rumours about him? If he was in the air, they couldn't reach him, could they?
"Yeah, sure. Be on my team Ron?" Ron grinned at his friend's sudden enthusiasm, glancing at Hermione before nodding again, his smile stretching further.
"Hell yeah! You, me, Dean and Seamus verses the girls."
"Hey, that's not fair!"
"I can barely hold the ball!"
"Come on! It's called a quaffle!"
"A ball is a ball, Ronald."
"You have Ginny!"
Harry smirked at his friends playful bickering, not able to hold back his smile even if he desperately wanted to. This here was normal. This is what he wanted; his friends banter, joking faces, and staying up until midnight just chatting. Right now he felt normal.
The entire group continued arguing about teams until they came to the bridge, finally agreeing on equal-talent teams. It would be Harry, Hermione, and Ron, versus Dean, Ginny, Parvati and Seamus. Since Hermione was a disadvantage, woefully bad and impossible to train, they had decreed the teams fair and just…much to the bushy haired girl's disgruntlement.
"God, why did they return?" Harry glanced at Parvati, who was suddenly shaking with ill-conceived rage, pointedly glaring over Harry's shoulder. Damn it. He had successfully avoided them for the week.
Harry sighed before spinning around, holding back a groan as his eyes met with glinting silver. Naturally, today of all days, this particular minute out of all bloody minutes, did both houses decide to have a match.
Both groups quietened immediately, eyes hardening as they took in the complete opposite of personalities. The Slytherins were all rolling their eyes, glancing at one another and debating silently whether or not to say anything…the Gryffindors were muttering to themselves, eyes hardening and chins stubbornly set. God, this was going to be fun, wasn't it?
"…We've booked the pitch." Hermione was the first to speak, crossing her arms dangerously. Always one for authority.
"I'm sure we can halve the space." Harry glanced towards Malfoy at his cool words, not even a hint of aggression or sarcasm in his tone. He looked as tired as Harry felt, almost as sick of all the fighting. As soon as Harry's eyes fell on him, Malfoy glanced his way, taking in his obvious confused expression and smirked, raising his eyebrows. What, think I can't be mature? He seemed to be saying, achieving in making Harry turn red and drop his gaze. Damn him! He had avoided him for a few days, and with one sentence, he was already smirking like the git he was. Harry hadn't even said anything yet and Malfoy was making Harry into a fool.
"Snakes have never shared a thing in their lives; better not break the habit." Hermione replied coolly, "And anyway, what makes you think we want to share with the likes of you?"
The Slytherins all turned towards Malfoy, who with an exaggerated eye roll turned away…and began to walk off. No fighting, no belittling…no common Malfoy activity. What the hell?
Harry turned back to his friends, watching them light up with pride at their stubborn defender, smiling and making gestures to the Slytherins behind their backs. The entire thing might have been left at that, if a whispered "Tart." From Parkinson to Nott hadn't drifted back over to the cheering Gryffindors.
If only she could have kept her mouth shut for a second longer.
"Me, a tart?" Hermione snapped, effectively re-catching every stare from Slytherin and Gryffindor alike.
"Hermione, don't-" Harry began but was silenced into shock by his friend's next words.
"I've heard a lot of stories about you, Pansy. Jumping from Malfoy, to Flint, to Nott, back to Malfoy, through the entire Slytherin dorm-"
"Even becoming 'friendly' with the Carrows to get an 'A'." Ginny added her piece, despite the incredulousness from Harry. She acted as if she couldn't see him gaping at her.
"If I'm a tart, at least I'm not…" Hermione trailed off here, looking decidedly uncomfortable. She clearly didn't want to finish the sentence, the vocabulary not particularly nice. Ginny didn't mind.
"A slut."
Harry could barely comprehend he had heard that from innocent Ginny's lips. It was just…it was Ginny, for Merlin's sake! He had never assumed she could swear and even if she could, assumed she wouldn't. It didn't suit her. And was bloody rude to boot. And what was worse, was that the other girls were grinning and patting her on the shoulder as if she had done some great justice by slandering another student.
Never had he expected either of his friends to snap back like that; it was just vicious.
"Oh, and back to Malfoy again, I hear. Well done, achieving your all end dreams, aren't you?"
Harry quickly turned back to Parkinson, catching her pale, hurt expression before she covered it hastily, rolling her eyes as if it was of little consequence to her. Harry caught Malfoy's furious gaze though, and knew the truth.
Harry opened his mouth to speak, but before he did, Zabini was moving. He cocked his head to one side, wrapping his arms around Parkinson's waist and leaning his head on her shoulder. "You forgot me, Granger. Don't I count as a good fuck?" He asked as if he was discussing the weather, watching the riffle of indignation run along the Gryffindors with a smirk. "Do you want to give it a go, see if I check out? I want to be added to your list."
"Oi! That's my-"
"I even think I'll be able to stomach it, you know, given your situation." Zabini continued as though Ron didn't speak, his slicing words silencing the group immediately. "Does it count as bestiality, Draco?"
"I think it does." Malfoy drawled out, cocking his eyebrow as he examined Hermione, watching as she shuffled back and turned bright red.
"Oh, good, another experiment off my shagging list then. Up for it, Muddy?"
"I don't want you tainted, Blaise. Who knows what you might catch? Given the Weasel and all." Malfoy spoke as though he was considering a pet, and knowing them all, they probably were.
Hermione was near tears, jerking around stubbornly to glare at Ron and the other boys for not defending her, completely unaware that the Slytherins just smirked and started to leave again, this time without the little remarks.
Harry just stood there nonplussed. The bloody Slytherins had defended their own better and more effectively than the Gryffindors. Which was the house of loyalty again?
Hermione spun around, a retort on her lips finally, but the Slytherins were already a few meters away, beyond caring about the house of red. Instead, she growled, glancing at the other girl Gryffindors. And, girls, being able to somehow communicate with expression alone, nodded in agreement. Ginny whipped out her wand, jerking it in the Slytherin direction.
Almost as if in slow motion, Harry spun back around and watched in growing anger and frustration as Parkinson's cloak suddenly glowed, the words 'slut' staining her back in thick red, neon, and looking remarkably like blood, if not for the fact it glowed. Slytherin and Gryffindor alike jerked out their wands, spinning around with loathing in their eyes, hurt about to come from their lips.
"You vile little bitch!"
"Come closer, I dare you!"
Harry hesitated for a moment, cursing his own lack of better judgement, before lunging forwards himself, both his wand and his fake wand still secured in his robe. He stumbled between both groups, arms out wide and swallowing nervously. He was, despite the fact none of them knew, utterly defenceless. Bloody hell.
"Everyone's angry, just…walk it off…" Walk it off? Walk it off? Great suggestion, Harry. You should be a negotiator.
Ron was at the front of the pack, his red face and hair clashing horribly. "Get out of the way, Harry."
"Ron, just calm down-"
"Move it, Potter." Harry glanced at Malfoy, surprised he didn't just hex him, but snapped back to Ron when he jerked forwards again.
"Oi, just calm down! Think for a moment! There are too many of us here, a stray spell could hit anyone-"
"They insulted Hermione, Harry! They insulted me!" He interrupted roughly, turning his glare on Harry instead of Parkinson. "They're bloody Death-Eaters and worse! We're allowed to get them back, for everything they put us through!"
"Just think about-"
"We're done thinking! We're Gryffindors! We don't connive like them, we move! Come on, Harry! We all know you've wanted to get at Malfoy for years!"
Okay. Fine. If persuasion wouldn't work…
Harry just ignored the Malfoy comment completely. "Oh, yes, definitely Gryffindor. Loyal and brave and all that jazz! Tell me, what do you call hexing someone, without a wand on hand, when they're back is turned? So very Gryffindor, don't you think?" Harry winced, feeling each and every heated glare suddenly thrown his way.
"…Harry-" Dean began angrily, but Harry cut him off immediately, not letting anyone else talk unless they could show that actual thought was occurring behind their thick-headed brains.
"Hermione did start this!" He blurted out, regretting it as soon as it was said. Quickly, he tried to cover it up but knew it was a fail. "I'm not saying you deserved what has been said, Hermione, but you did start this fight!"
"Why the hell are you defending them?" Ginny suddenly bellowed, stepping forwards viciously and shoving Harry's hand away so she could step closer. She practically radiated fury. "They're scum! They're Death-Eaters!"
"They are not their fathers." Harry said quietly, the pressure to take a reassuring step away from the fiery girl all too welcoming.
"Look at his arm!" Ginny shrieked, gesturing somewhere where Malfoy was standing. "He was as good as a Death-Eater the day he was born! They were out for your time! Our time! Our lives!"
"Gin, just try to-"
"No! No! You weren't here! You weren't held under the crucio, by him, in classes! You weren't humiliated by them daily, were you? They. Are. Scum!" God, Ginny was about to burst into tears, her voice started quivering as she stared at Malfoy with such loathing.
"Scum or not, they've done nothing today-"
"They killed Fred." Ron muttered quietly, raising his head to meets Harry's horrified face. "And you're defending them?"
"…Ron-"
"Lavander was killed too. Or do you not care about her?" Parvati spoke up, hands clenched in rage as she stared at Harry, blinking away as if ashamed.
"Colin idolized you." Seamus added quietly, shaking his head in disgust before he literally stalked away from the group, his anger radiating as he stormed off.
He wasn't diminishing their lives, though. He wasn't telling anyone to forget about them, or just get on with their lives…revenge was disgusting though. It had turned people Harry thought he knew into these strangers.
"I'm not saying to forget them! Have I ever said that? I just don't want curses flung around where anyone could get hurt!" Harry swallowed again as Ginny stepped closer, hand on her wand threateningly. When had a simple game of Quidditch turned into a fight for his bloody life?
"They chose the wrong side, Harry. They fought against us! Against you! She," Ginny spat, as if daring Parkinson to deny anything she might say, "demanded we just give you up to Voldemort! How can you just…forget all that?"
"I'm not!" Harry hastily tried to figure out when this had turned into a political debate. "I'm just…moving on."
"Moving on." Ron turned away in disgust, following Seamus' example. "How can I possibly move on?" Harry watched helplessly as Hermione ran off after him, not even sending Harry a last glare. He had crossed some line, and he didn't know if he would be allowed to redeem himself again.
…
Did he really want to?
The next second he had to fumble for his wand, a reflex from the war, and cast a quick protégo as a jinx appeared from nowhere. Harry turned to Ginny, eyebrows raised as he took on her stubborn stance. Without a word she tried to jinx him again, then sent out a curse.
Each time, Harry blocked it with ease, trying to feel at ease with a wand in his hand instead of nauseated. He was lucky he had managed to grab his actual wand, not the fake copy.
"…you won't win." He said softly, determined to not drop his gaze from Ginny's, struggling not to stare at his body to find out what ailment was going to occur now.
He blocked a last jinx, then watched as his classmates, he didn't feel brave enough to call them his friends right now, turn and storm off, excessively loud shouts of outrage reaching him even when they had retreated back inside.
Knowing that only half the battle was over, Harry sighed heavily before willing himself to turn around, wincing as a group of furious glares met his gaze immediately. It seemed that they neither wanted nor needed his help, and Malfoy was already opening his mouth to no doubt tell him so, when it happened.
His magic was…popping. That was the only way to describe this weird sensation down his arm. Harry frowned, feeling as though small bubbles were under his skin, and each time one popped a biting, burning sensation lingered cruelly. He winced, watching with a morbid fascination as his hand suddenly stopped wriggling, and lay dead, the 'bubbles' slowly inching up to his wrist instead.
Harry tried to move his fingers, to click, to simply bend his thumb…nothing.
He only had to wait until his wrist stopped flexing before spinning around and bolting back towards the castle. Screw the Slytherins, they would probably leave him there and hex him for helping.
Harry flew through the corridors, tripping once on a stair and getting unsteadily to his feet, one arm dangling uselessly by his side. He caught sight of his fingers, almost whimpering as he saw they were already a deep blue.
It was lucky for him that his feet were in survival mode, sprinting without conscious thought of a destination. The bubbles were crossing his chest, his stomach, down his thighs… it was getting difficult to breathe, his vision was fading with these black dots flickering in and out of focus…
The doors of the hospital wing flew opened before Harry could touch them.
"MADAM POMFR-"
His legs gave way, sending him crashing to the floor, blood spurting from his nose as he fell straight on his face, without arms to either ease his fall nor hold him up. Thank god he was turned over quickly, his panic fading as his ability to keep his eyes open did.
"…I can't…move…bubbles…burning…spreading…" He managed to whisper out, he hoped at least, before the darkness finally took him.
Harry's last conscious thought was he didn't particularly want to wake up.