Harry cracked his eyes open, then shut them again. He could very vaguely hear whispering around him, but he was a bit too distracted by the searing pain in his entire body to pay it any attention. Everything hurt. It even hurt to think, though the idea that he probably should was starting to nag at him. What could possibly have happened to cause all this pain?

"He's awake!" One of the whisperers had decided to speak louder. Harry wished he wouldn't.

"Harry, are you alright?"

"Potter?"

"Harry?"

Harry moaned a little inside. He cracked his eyes open a sliver and looked around. Draco, along with the entire Slytherin Quidditch team, Blaise, Pansy, Hermione, Dudley, and Neville, were all crowded around his bedside, soaked and covered in mud.

"Keep it down," he managed, and closed his eyes again.

"He's fine," Flint pronounced, sounding satisfied. "Of course he is, Potter knows what's important. I don't see the rest of you diving into a crowd of dementors to win us the game. Pathetic."

As Flint spoke, the entire fiasco came flooding back. Harry's eyes snapped open. They were all still watching him, aside from Flint, who was eyeing the rest of the team with disdain.

"Harry!" Hermione squeezed in next to Blaise so she could reach him, and took his arm, holding on just a bit too tightly. "Are you alright?"

"You scared the hell out of us, Harry," Blaise said, slightly ashen, though still grinning. "Amazing catch though."

Harry blinked up at them all. Flint took the opportunity to salute Harry and usher the team out of the hospital wing, still lecturing. Draco and Neville moved over to the now empty side of Harry's bed while Dudley hovered at the foot, and Pansy sat down by Harry's legs and patted his knee.

"Neville, hand Harry his glasses," she instructed, before turning to Harry and beginning to scold him. "Harry, you've got to be more careful. You can't keep going around getting yourself nearly killed every couple days. It's going to give me premature wrinkles."

Harry thanked Neville and put the glasses on. The world swam into focus and he saw that he had vastly underestimated the state his friends were in. Hermione's eyes were red and bloodshot, and Blaise looked incredibly upset; the grin he'd had now looked more like a grimace. Draco, though usually pale, looked whiter than a ghost and as though he was restraining himself from copying Hermione and taking Harry's arm. Dudley's eyes tracked Harry's every movement, and even Pansy's face was a carefully blank mask as she fussed with Harry's bedcovers, smoothing them compulsively.

"What exactly happened?" Harry asked, frowning at them. "Why were there dementors?"

For a moment, no one spoke. Then Pansy smoothed Harry's covers once more, and looked up at him.

"They were hungry," she said. "That's why they were there. I can't imagine they're fed properly here. As a matter of fact, I'd be horrified if they were."

"There was a big crowd of excited people and they flocked to it," Blaise added. "Everyone stopped playing once they realized they were there, but you -"

"You followed the bloody Snitch right into their waiting arms," Draco interrupted heatedly. "You just dove right in and disappeared and it took forever to get to you, even with Dumbledore and all the teachers trying to make the dementors leave."

"They didn't want to leave," Pansy said softly. "They were hungry. You were like a mouse in a snake pit."

Harry stared at them. Hermione spoke up in a shaky voice. "Dumbledore was furious. He ran right out onto the field and shot some silver stuff at them out of his wand, but it only made a few of them leave. There were so many of them. He had to do it a couple times before they all finally left you alone, and by then you were just laying there in the middle of the field. We all thought..."

Pansy squeezed his knee, then smoothed his covers out again. "The broom Draco's father bought you was destroyed," she said vaguely.

Harry stared numbly at his hands above the blankets. He had almost died. His broom had been destroyed in the process of his nearly dying.

"I...it's fine, Harry," Draco said, all the tension rushing out of his frame as he dropped down on the other side of Harry's legs. "I'm sure Father wouldn't mind replacing it if you want him to. Your old broom is still good, in the meantime."

"That's alright, Draco," Harry answered faintly. "He doesn't have to buy me a new one."

They all sat quietly for a minute or so, before Madame Pomfrey came bustling over and told them to come back later.

"You're soaked to the bone," she said disapprovingly. "I'll not have you all back here tomorrow with pneumonia because you couldn't change your clothes."

"Can't we just cast drying charms?" Draco asked, not moving from his spot on the bed. Madame Pomfrey raised an eyebrow at him.

"Visiting hours have been over for half an hour," she said severely. "As Mr. Dursley is family, he may stay ten minutes longer. But the rest of you have to leave."

Dudley perked up at this and cast a drying charm on himself. Harry smiled faintly at him, noting that Hermione's tutoring had paid off tenfold. Dudley moved closer to the bed as the rest of their friends said goodbye and left grudgingly.

"I was so scared when the dementors got you," Dudley said quietly. He was still watching Harry closely, face pale. "Neville explained to me about the Dementor's Kiss after Dumbledore finally got you off the field."

"The Dementor's Kiss?" Harry asked, confused. Dudley shuddered slightly.

"That's what they were trying to do to you," he explained, sitting down near Harry's legs. "They have a mouth under the hood, and they kiss you and suck out your soul through your mouth."

Harry suddenly felt very cold and clammy.

"That sounds absolutely awful," he said, horrified. "I'm happy Dumbledore stopped them."

"Me too," Dudley said solemnly. They contemplated the idea for a moment in silence.

"Ron was going to come and visit you too," Dudley unexpectedly. "But he's kind of upset at Hermione right now. He thinks her cat ate his rat. It probably did, but she doesn't think so and they're fighting. He said it was either her cat or your snakes, but he doesn't really think that, I don't think. He's just upset. He's had that rat forever."

Harry nodded absently. Dudley gave him a long, sombre look.

"You look terrible, Harry. Get some sleep." Dudley stood to leave, and looked down at Harry. "I'm going to write Dad and tell him what happened," he said. "You're coming home for Christmas, right? Only he'll want to know."

Harry nodded, and Dudley gave him a strained smile before turning and leaving the Hospital Wing.

The next morning, Draco, Blaise and Pansy showed up at the infirmary bright and early, Draco carrying a newspaper under his arm, and all three of them bearing various gifts.

"Daphne and Tracy asked me to give you these," Pansy explained, setting the cards and a vase of flowers on the nightstand. "You'll be getting several visitors today, besides."

Blaise agreed and began stacking the armful of sweets he'd brought. "Theo wishes you well, though I think I should taste-test these Chocolate Frogs he gave you for poisons, and probably those Jelly Slugs from Pucey, too. I always thought he was a shady character..."

Harry smiled. He was feeling much better this morning, and it looked like his friends were too. Draco dropped a stack of cards in Harry's lap and opened up the copy of the Prophet he'd been carrying.

"Boy-Who-Lived Attacked By Dementors!" he read aloud importantly. Harry's eyebrows shot up.

"I'm in the paper?"

Pansy and Blaise made themselves comfortable in chairs around Harry's bed, but Draco remained standing.

"Of course you are, Harry," Pansy said dismissively. "Now listen, this is important."

Draco glanced at them briefly over the paper, and continued reading. "Yesterday night, our very own Boy-Who-Lived was attacked by more than fifty dementors while playing Seeker for the Slytherin Quidditch Team during the first game of the season."

"Was it really that many?" Harry asked, aghast. Blaise and Pansy nodded. Draco lowered the paper.

"The Prophet is calling for the removal of the dementors from Hogwarts," he said. Harry gaped at him.

"What?"

"They're saying the school needs better security that won't end you up in St. Mungo's," Pansy explained, sounding slightly amused. "If you gave an interview right now and demanded it, I'm sure they'd be gone in a few days."

"What do you think, Harry?" Blaise asked, already halfway through Harry's Jelly Slugs. "Dementors or no dementors? Is there anything else about Hogwarts that's been annoying you lately?"

Harry blinked several times, processing this strange new development.

"If we get rid of the dementors, though," Harry said thoughtfully, "What's to stop Black from getting inside?"

"He's already gotten inside, Harry," Pansy pointed out. "He's figured out a way past the dementors. They're no longer useful. Let's get rid of them."

Harry frowned. "Do you really think it'd be that easy? One interview?"

Draco smirked and sat down at the foot of Harry's bed. "I think it'd be as easy as rumours that you want them gone. Flat out say it, and you'll never see one again."

Harry's eyebrows went up as he considered this. "I'll think about it."

Pansy shrugged and picked up one of his cards. "This one is from...ooh, Hannah Abbot. This should be good."

Harry wrinkled his brow as she opened the card. "How did you bring cards from other Houses? I thought those were just from Slytherins."

"Bit of a big head, Harry?" Blaise commented, smirking at him. "Do you really think that all those cards could come from just Slytherin? Just for that, no Bertie Botts for you."

Draco rolled his eyes delicately as Blaise nicked more of Harry's sweets. "Blaise, we all know he'll have this many from each House by the end of the weekend."

"This was just the morning rush," Blaise agreed blithely. "Pansy and I have been just outside for a while, keeping a lid on your visitor traffic. Can't have just anyone walk in here with you in the state you're in."

"I'm fine," Harry said, blushing, embarrassed that they would go to all this trouble for him.

Blaise grinned and raised the Bertie Botts box in salute. Pansy and Draco ignored them, now cackling over the get well cards.

"It even rhymes!" Draco gasped. "It wouldn't be nearly so bad if it didn't rhyme!"

Harry rolled his eyes and was laughing at Pansy's exaggerated rendition of the poem when Hermione burst through the doors of the Hospital Wing with Dudley and Neville in tow.

"How are you this morning, Harry?" Neville asked, handing Harry a stack of cards. "These are from a few of the Gryffindors," he explained at Harry's curious look.

"Good morning, Harry," Dudley said, sifting through the pile of candy in his arms to set a package of Cockroach Clusters on the nightstand before settling in with Blaise to eat all of Harry's get well tokens.

"Did the Gryffindors decide Harry needed to work on his assignments?" Blaise asked, indicating the books and parchment Hermione held in her arms. Hermione smirked at him in amusement.

"These are mine," she said, and set them down in Harry's lap.

Harry looked up at her with his eyebrows raised, then down at the books.

"I've got two things to tell you about," she said, a tinge of excitement colouring her voice. "Number one is that I know who Tom Riddle is now." She sifted through the books and picked out one in particular, plus some parchment that looked like the genealogy she'd written out back at the beginning of term, only filled with a lot more writing.

"I had to put off researching it for a while, because schoolwork takes precedence of course, but I looked at it again last night," she explained eagerly, pulling out a quill and a clean sheet of parchment with Riddle's full name written in large, clear letters at the top. "It just seemed odd that he would have pulled a name like Voldemort out of thin air - "

Draco made a sound in the back of his throat. Pansy, Blaise and Neville didn't look happy about her use of Voldemort's name either. Hermione sighed and continued anyway.

"So I thought maybe he didn't," she said, becoming more animated as she explained. "There's a V-O-L in Marvolo, so I thought maybe it was an anagram." As she spoke, she wrote out the words 'Lord Voldemort' on the parchment, and began tracing arrows from Riddle's name to Voldemort's. Harry's eyes widened slightly as each letter found its place. The others were leaning in as well, watching with wary interest. Dudley frowned when she finished the name.

"You've left out three letters," he pointed out, using his sugar quill to indicate them. "M, I and A. Was his first name meant to be Mia or something?"

Pansy's eyebrows shot up past her hairline. She opened her mouth to say something, but Draco beat her to it.

"Mia?" he repeated scornfully. "First of all -"

"Draco, shut up," Blaise interrupted, grinning. "I think Mia is the perfect first name for the Dark Lord. It's very unusual. I think it's dignified, don't you, Harry?"

Blaise's eyes were dancing with amusement, even as Hermione huffed at Dudley and Draco in exasperation.

"No, it's not part of his name," she said. "If you would just let me finish..." She drew arrows from the three extra letters to the front of the name, to make the phrase, 'I am Lord Voldemort'.

"You-Know-Who didn't think Mia was very dignified, then," Neville said after a moment. "Though 'I am' isn't much better, is it?"

"If his middle name had been 'Narvolo', he could have been an Ian," Blaise decided. He was clearly enjoying this much more than Pansy and Draco, who were looking a bit sick. "Ian is a pretty dangerous sounding name, don't you think so, Draco? Very eastern European, I think."

Draco looked like he had lockjaw. Hermione looked up at him expectantly, almost challengingly. "Is this proof enough, do you think?"

Harry, along with the rest of the group crowded around his bed, turned their eyes to Draco for his answer. He sat in silence for a moment, the barest of emotions flitting across his face.

"I need to think about this," he said finally. Harry frowned at him. What was so difficult about accepting that Hermione was right? "What was the other thing you had to talk about?"

He noticed Harry looking at him and looked away, refusing to meet his eyes.

Hermione interrupted anything Harry would have said, though, with a shocking revelation. "Sirius Black never had a trial."

She sat back and watched with satisfaction the effect her words had. Harry's head had swung almost involuntarily away from Draco to stare at her, even as he forced his jaw to stay in place and not drop.

"Excuse me?" Neville and Blaise echoed with similar expressions of surprise.

"He never had a trial. There was no mention of his trial anywhere I looked." She leaned forward, eyes bright. "Normally, like with Marvolo Gaunt's arrest, the Daily Prophet mentions somewhere in the article that you can owl the Ministry for a transcript. They're considered public information, you understand, especially the older ones. I owled the Ministry, and I got a response from the Department of Archives and Records saying that they didn't have a copy, and that as far as they knew, their Department had never received one."

"And from this, you decide he never got a trial?" Pansy asked sceptically. "Couldn't it have just gotten lost somewhere on the way?"

Hermione shook her head. "The archivist said she had thought it was strange, and when she looked into it she found out they never gave him a trial in the first place. I got the owl confirming it yesterday, but of course with all the excitement I couldn't bring it up until now."

There was silence for a moment, until Draco broke it.

"Imagine this," he said, a devious smirk beginning to blossom on his features. "'Harry Potter Demands Removal of Dementors from Hogwarts and Fair Trial for Sirius Black' That's the headline."

Pansy's eyes were wide with the possibilities. "Imagine it! If Black is innocent and Harry makes a big deal of it in the papers, he'll probably come back for a trial, and either way this'll all be settled.

"What if he's not innocent, though?" Neville asked. "I mean, would he risk coming back if he knew he'd likely lose?"

"Not if he thinks Harry Potter is on his side," Draco said, eyes gleaming. "He'd be more likely to be declared innocent just because Harry said so, and if he's been paying any attention to the papers, he'll know how the wizarding world reacts to the Boy-Who-Lived. And if he's insane and doesn't think that far ahead, well, at least we'll know what we're dealing with."

He grinned at Harry, who grinned back in spite of himself. Draco made a very good point.

"How about this for a headline," Pansy suggested. "Boy-Who-Lived Claims Convicted Criminal was Never Convicted!"

"Ooh, I like that one," Blaise said approvingly. "Good alliteration. How about 'Dementors Attack Boy-Who-Lived Because of Ministry Incompetence'?"

"You three are shameless," Hermione said, though she looked just as excited as they were. "I'll have to write back to that archivist, maybe she'll be willing to give a quote for the article." Harry laid back in his bed, smiling. It looked like the question of whether he should use his name had been answered, though he found he didn't mind as much as he'd thought he might. The headlines they were coming up with were actually pretty good, if he thought about it, and if it settled this Sirius Black business once and for all, Harry was willing to put himself out there a bit.

"This calls for a celebration," Blaise said, raising a newly opened box of Jelly Slugs. "If Harry feels up to it, of course. It's still a Hogsmeade weekend until eight o'clock tonight. I'm sure we can get you out of here by then."

"How are you going to get this in the paper?" Dudley asked. "You aren't going to write it yourselves, are you?"

Draco shook his head and picked up the newspaper he'd been reading when he first came in. "Of course not. We're going to have an expert do it." He tapped the article about the Dementor attack. "The journalist who wrote this will do nicely. Rita Skeeter."

A/N: Thanks muchly to my beta, euripedes, and thanks for all the reviews!