The Map continued to be missing, no matter where Harry searched over the course of the next couple weeks. He had asked everyone who knew of its existence, but to no avail. The dreaded thought of letting Sirius and Remus know that he had lost it made his stomach clench, but it kept reoccurring to him. Maybe there was some kind of recovery charm on it? It wasn't unlikely. The Marauders had put all manner of safeguards on the Map, after all.
He hadn't forgotten why he was looking for the Map in the first place, either. He and Neville brought it up at the library one day, and Dudley and Hermione were intrigued.
"She was trying to break out?" Hermione asked. "You're sure?"
"Pretty positive," Neville said. "That was what was so odd about it."
"And the gate was open?" Dudley grinned. "She could have just walked out."
"She couldn't, though," Hermione said. "I mean, unless she's gone insane, there would be no other reason to attack the gates like that."
Harry and Dudley shared a significant glance.
"No, I don't think she's gone insane," Hermione said wryly. "Her articles are as lucid as ever."
"Define 'lucid'," Harry muttered, rubbing his temples.
"How would she have gotten stuck on campus, though?" Neville asked. "It makes no sense."
"And how can I use this to keep her from writing more articles about me?" Harry added. "That's the important question."
"She's not supposed to be on campus without permission," Hermione said. "I would suggest that we go to a teacher-" She cast Harry a quelling glance when he opened his mouth. "Except that Harry here obviously wants to resort to blackmail." She only looked mildly disapproving, so Harry subsided into his seat, satisfied.
"I can't blackmail her without knowing what's happened to trap her here," Harry pointed out.
"We'll look into it, then," Hermione said primly. "Keep your eyes and ears open in the meantime."
Harry smiled. He had a feeling he was a bad influence on these Gryffindors.
The loss of the Map and the Rita Skeeter situation had Harry feeling stressed, and the intermittent headaches that started getting worse in April weren't helping. Harry was sitting in a chair in front of the fire in the Slytherin common room, rubbing his head and trying to read his Transfiguration text when Blaise dropped into the chair across from him.
"Hey, Harry," he said. Harry gratefully gave up on the book, setting it on the end table next to him.
"Hi Blaise," he replied. "Where's Pansy?"
Blaise waved a careless hand. "Oh, you know how Pansy is," he said. "Probably off sacrificing a kitten or something."
Harry bit down on a bemused smile. Pansy and Blaise had the weirdest relationship.
"Anyway, that's not what I wanted to talk to you about," Blaise continued. "I talked to Draco the other day."
Harry felt the smile drop off his face. "What did he say?"
"He said you said he stole your Map."
"I did not!" Harry sat straight up in his chair, slack jawed. "I just asked him if he'd seen it!"
Blaise raised a very sceptical eyebrow at Harry. "And you didn't sound accusatory in the slightest, I'm sure."
"I didn't," he insisted. "I just asked him a simple question, Blaise. If he's going to go around lying-"
"Harry!" Blaise leaned forward and put his head in his hands. "Just shut up a second!"
Blaise's reaction startled Harry. He sat back in his seat and went silent, though he was still fuming internally.
"You're both idiots," Blaise said, lifting his head and glaring.
"But you have to admit that-" Blaise interrupted Harry with another glare.
"No. You're wrong." Blaise ignored Harry's appalled expression and continued. "Draco is wrong too. You're both wrong and you're both right, and you're both so fucking emotional about it that I can't push either of you into being sensible enough to apologise!"
Harry was floored. Blaise had seemed so understanding before now. Harry knew on some level that he was frustrated by Harry and Draco falling out, but he hadn't realized Blaise was this upset.
"Usually I can just push the two of you into being decent human beings when you're having an argument. I'm very good at manipulating people, Harry!" Blaise stood up and paced in front of the chairs, frustrated. "But it's been months and months and you won't stop fighting! But of course, neither of you are willing to just ignore the other, and you're both so volatile when it comes to the other that I don't want to talk to either of you anymore! I hate you both right now."
"Wait, are you-"
"No, Harry, I'm not telling you I don't want to be friends with you," Blaise said, rolling his eyes. "Because I can act like a rational fucking human being when I'm mad at someone, and separate the argument from the person."
Harry blinked up at Blaise, not sure whether to be extremely insulted or... extremely insulted in a more quiet way.
"I had this same exact conversation with Draco," Blaise told him. "And he reacted the same way. You two are too much alike for your own good."
And with that, he stormed out of the common room, leaving Harry gaping after him.
Harry spent the next few weeks trying hard not to talk about Draco with Blaise. He hadn't actually realized how often he did it until he tried to stop. It was eye-opening. He had thought he was ready to never speak to or about Draco again, but apparently that was just patently untrue.
It turned out that Pansy and Blaise had had their own things to tell Harry that had not managed to make it through the conversational jam. Harry was appalled to discover that they had been an item for only the past four months out of six.
He had assumed they were dating the entire time, but according to Pansy, Blaise was a bit of an obnoxious arguer (something Harry privately agreed with), and according to Blaise, Pansy was irrationally sensitive about the strangest subjects. As a result, they had broken up and reunited a total of four times already.
When Harry mentioned that he felt awful for not knowing this, Pansy raised an eyebrow and said archly, "Well, you should. We eat meals together every day, Harry. Blaise sleeps in the same room as you. Do try to keep up in the future."
He ended up telling Pansy and Blaise about Padma, in the hope that Pansy might know more about her. Harry had not managed to actually speak to Padma again, in part because he had no idea what he would say, and in part because when his snake mentioned she was nearby, he tended to lose all courage and take an alternative route to his destination.
They were in a lot of classes together, which Harry felt he should have known before Pansy pointed it out.
"You're absolutely oblivious, Harry," Pansy told him fondly. "I'll bet you don't know a single Hufflepuff's name, do you?"
Harry did not deign to answer this question, and started sitting with Anthony in some of the classes they had together, since Anthony always sat on the Ravenclaw side near Padma. Harry's snake kept up a distinctly un-funny commentary during these classes that usually had Anthony stifling amusement until dismissal.
The headaches had not gone away by the middle of May, and when Hermione found out, she forced Harry up to the Hospital Wing. Pomfrey tutted over him and pushed potions on him which only reduced the pain for a few days.
Studying for exams in this state was awful, and interruptions were welcome. Harry didn't even mind Poliakoff anymore, though he always seemed to find Harry during his free period these days, usually just to talk about some nonsensical thing or invite Harry to go for a walk. Harry usually refused the walks, since he really didn't want to encourage Poliakoff too much. He was a persistent sort.
The headaches got so bad that even Snape took notice during an Occlumency lesson one day.
"Where does it hurt?" Snape hissed, lowering his wand and approaching Harry's chair with a strange expression. Harry frowned at him and touched his scar.
"My forehead," he said. "I thought it might have been my scar at first, but it's just that whole side of my head, really. It just happens sometimes, it's not a big deal."
"How often?" Snape asked, peering into Harry's eyes and tapping his wand thoughtfully against his palm.
"In the morning, usually," Harry said. "And sometimes after classes are over, like right now. I've taken potions for them, but they don't really help much."
"Have you had any strange dreams lately?" Snape tilted Harry's chin and examined his scar. Harry let him, nonplussed and slightly uncomfortable.
"Nothing notable," Harry said.
"No nightmares?" Snape inquired, letting Harry go and stepping back to observe him more fully.
"No." Harry shrugged. "Except one where I was being chased by a manitcore last week."
Snape frowned and fell silent. Harry shifted under his stare.
"You clear your mind every night before you sleep, I assume," Snape said eventually. Harry nodded. It had become a habit by now. "You practice your Occlumency even when we are not actively working on it here."Harry nodded again. Snape examined him again, then nodded himself.
"Congratulations, Mr. Potter," he said. "I believe you have actually managed to successfully occlude your mind."
"You can tell because I have headaches?" Harry asked, bewildered. "Is that normal?"
"If someone is continuously trying to intrude and you are successfully repelling them, as I believe you are, then headaches are not uncommon."
"Who's trying to intrude in my mind?" Harry exclaimed, switching back to English in his alarm. The headaches were frequent! Whoever it was must have been dedicated.
Snape stared at him for another long moment, his face impassive. "I have only suspicions," he admitted eventually, in pointed Parseltongue. "I will speak with the Headmaster about your situation, if you will allow it, and keep you informed."
Harry nodded with haste. He didn't like the idea of someone else trying to break into his mind. His mind was his, and no one else had a right to be in there unless he let them.
Harry had a History of Magic exam on the day of the third Task, which was a strange contrast.
"This was the most exhausting morning I've had in weeks," Blaise summarized. "But tonight is hopefully going to be exciting. It doesn't seem right to put the two together like that."
Dusk found everyone gathering at the Quidditch pitch, which had been destroyed back in May just as Hagrid promised. Harry still grimaced at the sight of it, and he could see his fellow Quidditch players in the stands making the same face. The hedge maze was twenty feet high, and covered almost the entire length of the pitch. From the stands, one couldn't see down into the maze itself. All that was visible was the centre, where a tiny glint of gold hinted at the position of the Cup. Hagrid, McGonagall, Sprout and Flitwick were all crowded around the entrance, pinning red stars to their hats (or in Hagrid's case, his vest).
"Ladies and gentleman, the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin! Let me remind you how the points currently stand! In first place, with eighty-five points, Mr. Cedric Diggory of Hogwarts School!"
The cheers and applause were deafening. Harry and his friends joined in, whistling loudly for their school. He was sitting with Pansy and Blaise again, and Anthony and Luna had joined them. Harry could see his Gryffindor friends in a set of stands across the field, beaming and cheering with the rest of the Hogwarts students.
"In second place, with eighty points - Mr. Viktor Krum, of Durmstrang Institute! And in third place - Miss Fleur Delacour, of Beauxbaton Academy!"
As the applause died down, Bagman spoke again. "So... on my whistle, Cedric! Three - two - one -"
Diggory hurried forward into the maze at the sound of the whistle, and soon disappeared within. A ghostly arrow appeared above the hedges, marking Cedric's current position.
"Mr. Viktor Krum is next, again, with eighty points. Viktor, on my whistle!"
Krum wasted no time when the short blast sounded, hurrying in after Diggory, his own ghostly arrow moving at a rapid clip.
"Miss Fleur Delacour, in third place, on my whistle!"
With that, all three Champions were inside the maze.
"Now, if those of you in the stands look closely, you will notice designators for each Champion," Bagman explained. "And if you look more closely still, you will see that there are more than just Champions in that maze!"
True to Bagman's word, other arrows were popping up, each with a picture hovering over it.
"That's one of those awful Blast-ended Skrewts of Hagrid's!" Harry said, catching sight of one of the pictures.
"It's headed right for Diggory," Pansy said, grabbing Blaise's arm. "Oh Merlin, it's got him, hasn't it?"
All they could see was that the two arrows had collided. The rest was left up to the imagination. Harry thought that was incredibly cruel.
"Oh, look," Luna said. "Viktor Krum has found the boggart."
"That's a nundu," Blaise said, peering at the picture. "No wonder the death rate in this Tournament is so high."
"It wasn't a nundu minute ago," Anthony said. Indeed, moments later, the arrow coalesced back into an indistinct shape, and Krum's arrow sped away.
Bagman's commentary helped to shed some light on what might potentially be happening inside the maze, but the crowd was almost too loud to hear him. It seemed like everyone was having conversations like theirs. In fact, Harry's head started hurting, the crowd was so loud.
He hoped this wasn't the beginning of another one of his Occlumency headaches. He didn't like the idea that right at that moment, someone might be trying to get into his head. Snape had come back to him with only vague possibilities: someone connected to Voldemort might be trying to attack Harry, and all he could do was to continue to resist, to practice as often as possible, and to be careful when he wasn't on school grounds.
The longer he sat in the stands, the more he realized that this headache wasn't going away. The noise was only making it worse. Harry squinted down at the maze, but he couldn't get into the conversation his friends were having. The excitement was ebbing in favour of pain.
"You alright, Harry?" Harry wasn't sure who asked this, but he responded in the negative anyway. "Another headache? Oh, that's awful."
This headache was worse than most, actually. Harry realized this when he stood up to get away from the noise and found his head spinning.
"I've got him," someone said, and a hand gripped his arm. Harry descended the steps from the stands with the person at his side, and as the noise became more distant, he found the headache abating enough to look up and thank Anthony, who seemed somewhat concerned.
"I'm fine," Harry said, grimacing. "It'll go away in a few minutes and I'll come back up."
"You sure?" Anthony asked, peering at Harry's face. He didn't imagine that he looked good.
"Yeah, go ahead, really," Harry said, waving him off and walking a few feet to demonstrate how fine he was.
Anthony gave him one last searching look, but eventually disappeared back up the stairs.
Once Anthony was gone, Harry sagged and closed his eyes again. It really was an awful headache.
"Are you okay, Harry?" It was a new voice this time, and Harry blinked his eyes open to look at Poliakoff. He sighed.
"Yeah, I'm fine," he said. "Just another headache."
"I know a spell to fix headaches," Poliakoff offered, and reached into his pocket.
"I don't know," Harry said, uncertain. "It's not that big of a deal."
"You are in pain, Harry," Poliakoff said, wand now in hand. "It is a good spell. Just relax."
Harry felt a serene calm settling over him. It was blissful and strangely familiar, though he couldn't quite place it. It didn't bother Harry. At the moment, all he cared about was that his headache had disappeared.
"Come with me, Harry." Poliakoff's voice floated toward him, and Harry obeyed without thinking. They started walking together across the grounds.
It was strange, how familiar the feeling was. He felt happy and clam and worry free, but there was some part of him that didn't like it, that wanted to break out of the bliss and reject it. Harry blinked, his thoughts coming slowly.
"Keep walking, Harry."
And wasn't it weird how he was almost hearing Poliakoff's voice inside his head, instead out from his mouth? And why was he doing what Poliakoff said, anyway? He never wanted to do things with Poliakoff. Poliakoff was kind of weird. Harry avoided him at all costs, usually.
Wait.
Wait a minute.
The world returned to clarity with a jolt like a bucket of cold water, and Harry realized he was standing in front of the gates to Hogsmeade, next to Poliakoff.
"Wait a min-" Harry began, stumbling backward. Poliakoff had already grabbed him and gotten a good grip around Harry's waist, suddenly looking nothing like his usual bumbling self. Harry struggled, alarmed. "Hey! Let me go!"
Harry fought back and reached for his wand, but apparently Poliakoff had already taken it off him during their walk. He covered Harry's mouth with one palm, picked him up bodily, and ignored his struggles as he dragged him through the gates and off Hogwarts grounds.
Off Hogwarts grounds.
Harry screamed as loudly as he could though Poliakoff's hand, trying to summon some kind of help, but the roar of the crowd was loud enough that no one at the pitch would hear him. And everyone was at the pitch but them.
When they were standing a good twenty feet from the gates, Poliakoff spun them in a circle, Harry still caught in a firm grasp under his arm, impotent though he continued to struggle. Harry felt an awful sensation, like he was being squeezed through a tiny tube. It was worse than a portkey.
When they slammed into existence again, Poliakoff let go. Harry fell to his knees, gagging and retching. When he finally regained control of his stomach, he looked up, trembling, to see a gravestone.