Hi everyone - so I wanted to mention that it looks like I'll be busy for the next two months. Hopefully I'll have time to update a chapter but if ya'll don't hear from me after April 2nd then assume that I've been busy packing and unpacking (yes - I'm moving to a new place. So much fun! *insert sarcasm*)

At the moment I have about two more chapters written for this fic. I'm hopeful that chapter 35 will be the end of year 1. We'll see. I do plan on touching onto the summer activities. If any of ya'll been to London or currently live somewhere in the UK please lemme know of any good activities for the girls to go to. If I use the suggested activities I will mention the person who gave me the idea.

Now off you go and don't forget to write a review to lemme know whatcha think!

Chapter 33: Unasked Questions

"When he spoke of the Philosopher's stone he made it seem like he was the one who destroyed the stone - that he persuaded the Flamels to destroy it."

She extended two fingers to keep track.

"He claims that Voldemort is not killable as he is now - that of course begs the question as to whether he tested this theory out, if he did then why had he not informed the authorities that Voldemort still lives. If he had not then how does he really know that attempting to kill him as he is now would result in failure?"

This one resulted in a third finger being extended and she saw that Hermione and Harry had a thoughtful look on their faces.

"On top of that he refused to give you a reason why Voldemort would want you dead. That's a surefire way to get someone killed because they'd unknowingly put themselves in danger." Hermione nodded in agreement to that observation. "Also, the magical protection your mother apparently gave you…" She frowned as she considered her words. "If your mother did indeed grant you some kind of magical protection then it's probably not based on love but blood."

"What?" the Gryffindors asked in confusion.

"Well… this is only speculation… but your mother gave her life to protect you." Meissa tilts her head as she thought about this. Most of this she was coming up right that second but could later confirm with a few books. "There are rituals that depends on the willing sacrifice of one's life. It's basically the ultimate sacrifice one can perform. But they definitely do not depend on love."

"The last two points I have has to do with the invisibility cloak he mentioned before and the life debt owed to your father."

"How are those lies?"

"Not lies… just questionable things." Meissa sighed as she considered that her seventh point wouldn't make much sense to Hermione or Harry. Both were raised by Muggles so they wouldn't know just what Dumbledore had done. Wouldn't know that he had broken several pureblood etiquettes just by informing Harry of the bond between his father and her godfather.

"For one, a life debt is no one's business except for those involved," she said coldly. "While the life debt was owed to your father it was up to Professor Snape to inform you. It was a major breach of etiquettes for the Headmaster to say anything about it." Harry looked unsure at what she said but said nothing in response. She hadn't expected him to.

"That aside there is the curious matter of the Headmaster possessing what I can only assume to be a family heirloom," she added with an air of cold curiosity.

"Is that important?" Harry asked, his green eyes glinting at her.

"It is…" She pauses as she considered her words. "If the cloak was a family heirloom then it should have a spell woven into it that, upon the death of either the Lord or the one whom it was bequeathed to, would return the cloak to the family vaults."

"Then that got to be it," Harry exclaims, starting Meissa from her thoughts.

"What?"

"Professor Dumbledore said that my dad left it to him."

"No Harry," Meissa mutters quietly. "He said that your father 'happened' to leave it with him."

Hermione looked between the two of them for a second before she spoke up, "Harry… do you know if your father was the Lord Potter before he… died?"

Harry frowns and Meissa knew, in that moment, that he wouldn't know. Who would've told him anything about his family? The muggles? They wouldn't know anything about the pureblood society - the fact that Harry behaved as he does told her that no one taught him anything about his family heritage.

"He must have been," Meissa injects quietly. "To my knowledge he is the first and only child of the last acknowledged Lord Potter."

"Acknowledged?" they both questioned at the same time.

"Yes," she sighed as she took in the confused looks from the two Gryffindors. "Every Lord and Lady of a House is typically acknowledged by both the magic of the House and Wizengamot. The highest court of law in Magical Britain. Wizengamot was established in the medieval days and predates the Ministry of Magic as well as the International Statue of Secrecy." This time only Harry had a look of confusion on his face - something she felt will have to be fixed as soon as possible.

It was not right that an heir of an Ancient House be ignorant of their heritage.

If she ever finds out who is responsible for this she will take great pleasure of ruining them.

"I'll find a book that will explain this to you," she promises Harry, deciding that it was best to return to the subject at hand instead of spending the next thirty minutes summarizing something for him. "In any case, a Lord of a House, major or minor," that part got a confused look but she decided to continue before expanding on anything, "would have to be acknowledged by Wizengamot. Typically that would happen after the Lord was tested and accepted by the House's magic."

"Wait, what do you mean tested and accepted by the House's magic?" Harry interrupted.

She sighed to herself. It would seem that it is time for a bit of lecture. "Each House that can trace their lineage to the days of Merlin have a type of magic that protects the bloodline. These houses are typically acknowledged as Ancient Houses, sometimes as Ancient and Noble Houses. It depends on the deeds performed by the members of the House in question. These are also known as Major Houses. The Minor Houses are those established after Merlin's death. They are typically not as old as a Major but occasionally an Old family will relocate to Britain. In any case the minor Houses will have no major deeds attached to the name or will be acknowledged as a Noble house." She looks at the two of them.

"After some time, the House gain traits that are unique to them. Magic cultivated will eventually lead to magical gifts - or so my ancestors have discovered. Each family that has a magical history that spans more than ten generations will typically have a gift of some kind. A family that has existed for many generations will, of course, have more than one gift and sometimes marrying another family with a similar type of history will allow the two lines to mingle - occasionally granting both lines with the gifts of the other House or perhaps creating a brand-new gift from the two lines blending."

"Is that why many purebloods look down upon Muggle-borns?" Hermione questioned lightly, obviously recalling a conversation about purebloods. Meissa hadn't gotten into great details about purebloods - mostly because she didn't want to see the disgust in the other girl's eyes when she realized how unfair the Wizarding world is to those born to muggles.

Meissa sighs and twirls a lock of her hair around her fingers. "Yes…"

Harry made a noise that prompted Meissa to look at him. What she saw was a look that was both one part angered and one part disgusted. "So that means… my mom was…"

"Looked down by a lot of purebloods?" Harry looked at her sharply when he heard her words. "Most of those who are… prejudiced are typically Dark families."

"You mean those declared Dark?" Hermione asked quietly, obviously recalling an earlier conversation. Although the fact that Harry had a confused look told her that Hermione never took it upon herself to educate him - and Meissa had to make herself realize that of course she wouldn't, she wouldn't know that Harry needed to know this as well since he was muggle raised.

"Yes. Those typically aligned with the Light tend to be more open minded about muggle-borns," Meissa looks at the two of them considering her words. "The way things are set up, pureblood reign at the top of the hierarchy - firmly believing that their purity of blood and the fact that they have gifts is the reason why they are superior to all else. Those born to first generation witches or wizards and… muggles or purebloods tend to be considered as half-bloods - they're rather common among the community but also looked down just for the fact they're not pure of blood."

She considers the two of them once more and decided they needed to know everything about the state of the Wizarding world before they get blindsided by a bigoted pureblood. "Below those considered as half-bloods are the muggle-borns… There's a slur - common among those who believe that muggles are primitive people, if you ever hear someone say 'mudblood' then they're likely insulting a muggleborn," Meissa states in a flat tone, her eyes focusing on no one at first.

But her curiosity got the best of her and she found herself looking at Hermione - a slow look of realization appearing on her face.

"I'll be hearing that a lot soon, won't I?"

"It's likely…" she confesses quietly. "It's not common to hear it within the vicinity of a Professor but I think it's rather likely you'll hear the word at some point." She gently tugged on her hair as she thought her words through. "The fact you haven't heard it yet is probably because I've gotten a bit of a reputation of hexing anyone who speaks ill of my friends. But I wouldn't rely on it forever - reputations are rather fickle."

Harry and Hermione exchanged looks before they looked at Meissa with something akin to understanding. She wasn't quite sure if she liked them looking at her like that. It gave her a prickly feeling along the back of her neck.

"Thank you," they said in near union as they nodded their heads at her.

"What?"

"You're the reason," Hermione says in a near whisper, "you've protected us from the worse of what we could've faced."

She looked at them in shock - she hadn't thought they would come up with that idea. "No," she protests, "You give me too much credit."

"No," Harry disagreed. "I think she's right - and I thank you."

She shifts uncomfortably for a second - the sharp flare of pain reminding her not to do that again.

"How did we get so sidetracked?" she asked - hoping that this would serve to distract the pair. "What was my original point before I started lecturing?"

Hermione was - of course- the one who came up with the answer, "The invisibility cloak."

Meissa snapped her fingers as she mentally latched onto the previous topic. "Right. So, most heirlooms would be magically tied to the House and of course, Gringotts would have a list of the properties and objects owned by any particular family. I find it curious that any items belonging to the Potter family would linger outside the vaults with no acknowledged Lords in charge."

"You mentioned that. But why is this so shocking?"

Meissa rubs her face as she thought about the answer to his question. She wasn't quite sure but she suspected that any pureblood family would safeguard against thieves and looting. She doubted that Harry's father was not the lord of the Potter family - and she further doubted that the invisibility cloak was not a Potter heirloom.

"I'm unsure of how to explain this… Think of it like this, all items may be allowed from the vaults or manors with the permission of the current Lord of the family." She pauses to make sure they were still following her. The slight nods she got from them told her that for now she still had them. "The items can only be taken by another member of the Potter family, typically those born into the bloodline." Another nod.

"For the Headmaster to hold possession of a Potter heirloom he would need the permission of the Lord of the Potter family," she looks at Harry, "Your father was most likely the one who gave him permission at the time."

Hermione made a gasping noise and pulled their attention to her as a result. "That's what you're trying to say!" she exclaims excitedly to her friend. "If Harry's dad was the Lord of the Potter family then that would mean when he died the cloak should've gone to the vaults!"

Harry's eyes widened and she saw the gears go into overdrive. She found it rather intriguing to watch how he pieced together something and - hopefully - come to the right conclusion.

"Then how did he keep the cloak to pass it down to me?"

"That, Harry, is the thousand galleon question."

~MJB~

Meissa was lying on the cot opposite of Harry with a fierce scowl on her face as she stared up at the ceiling.

She had been discovered shortly after she finally got Harry to realize that something might be wrong with the Potter estates - Hermione may have been a tad too loud or they tested their luck a little too long. It didn't matter because she had been confined to the Hospital Wing and this time there was a spell around the vicinity of the cot to alert the Madam of her potential escape if she moved from the bed.

With a tired sigh she tried to make herself comfortable - as much as she could with the fact that she had been forced to drink Skele-Gro. She knew - deep inside - that she should've passed out within minutes of drinking the potion and she did. There was a component in the spell designed to cause the drinker to go into a healing sleep to prevent them from injuring themselves as the potion replaced the bones with new bones. The problem, though, was staying asleep.

But she had woken up scarcely thirty minutes after consuming the potion - something she sincerely regrets since it meant she was wide awake through the pain until she passes out. She knew it was only thirty minutes thanks to the clock that ticked over the doors that separated them from the rest of the castle. It was enough to drive a person mad - a dangerous feat when one considers the fact that the Black family secretly have a reputation of insanity.

She had to consider that maybe some of the insanity was bred into the family - she remembered there was a person who married into the family - a Rosier if she recalled this right. She could remember that there was Rosier in the Death Eater ranks - and he was one of the most deadliest fighters on Voldemort's side. She could only imagine that his downfall was widely celebrated by the Aurors if only because he was too insane to be taken alive.

A sharp flare of pain along the side of her body had her gasp out loud for the first time she awoke.

"Meissa?"

She stifled a low groan - both at the pain and at the fact she let her weakness become known. She hadn't meant to alert anyone to the fact that she was awake. "What Harry?" she squeezes her eyes shut to try and push the pain aside.

"I thought you were supposed to be asleep," he comments as she heard a rustling noise. Was that him getting out of bed?

"Don't tell Madam Pomfrey."

"Why shouldn't I?"

"Because… she can't do anything about it. The Skele-Gro can't be taken with any other kind of healing potions," she muttered through gritted teeth.

"But… shouldn't she know anyway?"

"All that's going to do is make her worry," she forced herself to think through the haze of pain. "She cannot change anything about this."

A long moment of silence had her wondering if Harry agreed with her. She could recognize his footsteps - it was usually soft, as if he was afraid of making too much noise. It wasn't that different from her own footstep - except her footsteps is the way it is because the Black Manor tended to echo if one was too loud.

She first noticed how quiet Harry was when she was chatting with Hermione. She could typically recognize a person - if she knew them well enough - by their footsteps long before she hears their voices or see them. She knew Weasley was approaching them - his footsteps tends to be loud and rather blusterous, making claims that he cannot back up.

If she mentions this to Hermione or even Daphne she knew they'd be looking at her as if she lost her marbles - again. Not to mention she wasn't sure if she wanted to give away how she knew when they're approaching her.

In any case it couldn't be denied that she could recognize a person by the way they walk. So she knew that Weasley was approaching her and Hermione - but she had been taken by surprise when she saw that Harry was in his company. She hadn't sensed him at all and that was troubling for her.

Even when she was trying her hardest to sense him she couldn't when he's in the company of someone who had louder footsteps - the only exception was when he's with Hermione or when he's extremely mad. Only then could she sense him.

"Meissa - are you sure Madam Pomfrey can't help you?"

"I'm sure…"

She heard him make a noise - something a person would produce from the back of their throat - before there was a rustling of cloth. She could only assume that he had returned to bed. She didn't want to risk her ribs just to look - just breathing was hard for her, she didn't want to imagine what would happen when she moved.

So she stayed still and gritted her teeth to bear through the pain - she can do that. She knows that - she's done it before…

~MJB~

"The whole school's talking about it," she hears a voice pierce the haze of pain she had let herself drift away in. "What really happened?" She squeeze her eyes shut as she fought her way through the pain - trying to place the voice.

She could hear at least one other voice talking - she couldn't fully comprehend what was being said. The pain along her side was just as bad as when she allowed herself to drift away - it was enough to make her want to stay distant with her body, but she had this niggling feeling that she needed to tune into this conversation.

"So the Stone's gone? Flamel's just going to die?"

"That's what I said, but Dumbledore thinks that - what was it? - 'to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure'."

She forced herself to focus on her body - she knew that it was the key to forcing herself to bypass the pain and this bloody haze. She reached out to her hand - telling herself to stop being a pansy and just move.

So intent she was on getting her body to move she completely missed the fact that there was someone by the cot until a hand slipped into hers. All of a sudden she could only feel this sensation - the pain was a distant thing as she found herself unwittingly focusing on the sensation of this hand in hers.

Soft. Slightly calloused from holding a wand - it wasn't her godfather, her mind could think that in the midst of this information. Small - no, it wasn't too small. It was just right. Their hand practically slotted into place in her own. A shiver ran through her body - she could feel that but she couldn't feel the pain.

Wait - they're moving.

No!

~MJB~

Daphne was sitting by the cot Meissa was laying on - she had slipped into the Hospital Wing after Hermione and Ron, keeping out of sight of the redhead since she wasn't in the mood to deal with his brand of idiocy. She didn't like the low noises her friend was issuing - it sounded too much like what she had heard her friend make in those nights when she had forgotten to set up silencing wards around her bed. Meissa would never say what plagues her those nights - the near haunted look in her eyes was enough to ward off deep probing questions.

Even if she felt brave enough to find out, to push the issue, she feared losing Meissa's friendship. And that would always keep her from digging too deeply. If there ever come a day when Meissa start to share her life's story she'll listen without judging. She'll wait for that day for however long it takes.

But right now, her friend was laid up for who knows how long and a part of her regrets letting her go down there without her. She doesn't know if she would've changed anything. It was likely that nothing would've changed even if she had gone. It was possible that she would've needed her own bed as well.

There was too many what-ifs for her mind to comprehend. She just needed to accept that this is how everything has played out and plan to do better for the next incidence.

Shaking aside the thoughts about doing things differently she reached out and gently slips her hand into her friend's. Her thumb rubbing tiny circles onto the back of Meissa's hand. She couldn't think of anything else to do - Meissa was beyond her at the moment, lost to whatever dreams she was forced to experience.

Daphne knew that Meissa would be asleep for a few more hours - that's what Madam Pomfrey said before she permitted her to enter the Hospital Wing. So she didn't expect Meissa to be awake. Would hope that Meissa would remain asleep for a few more hours - even with the knowledge that her friend was unnaturally resistant to potions.

"Daphne," she hears Hermione call out to her, her voice low to keep from being too loud in the large room.

"Yes?" she looks up from Meissa's too stilled form.

"Madam Pomfrey wants us gone now," Hermione tells her, a few steps easily carrying her over to Meissa's bedside.

The blonde simply nods and made to stand up - her hand moving to slide free from Meissa's.

Only to have it squeezed tight suddenly as if she was trapped in a vice grip. A low noise issued from Meissa's throat - it sounded like she had tried to say something - and Daphne found herself staring at her best friend's face.

She shouldn't be aware.

Yet she was.

She shouldn't have been able to move her body.

Yet she could.

"Madam Pomfrey!" Hermione squeaked as Daphne leaned closer to Meissa, her free hand going to rest on top of their hands.

"Meissa?" A low noise issued from her throat - and this time she could see the rapid movement under the other girl's eyelids. She was aware - but how could she function under the pain? "Can you open your eyes?" she asks cautiously, the last she wanted to do was anger the other girl with a request she couldn't obviously do.

"Step aside, Ms. Greengrass," Madam Pomfrey appeared at her elbow and without further ado she began to wave her wands.

Daphne couldn't see the pattern to the motions - she was not familiar with healing magic and thought it would not be a bad idea to learn some - even if they were only the basic sort.

"Is she awake again?" Harry asked anxiously from his side of the wing.

"She was awake before?" Madam Pomfrey's voice was stern and maybe ringed with a bit of anger. "You did not inform me of this?"

"I'm sorry," Harry said at once. "She told me that there was nothing that could be done."

"When was this."

"Um… it happened not long after she took the Skele-Gro."

Daphne frowns and looks between her best friend, Harry, and Madam Pomfrey. "What does this mean for her?" she asked quietly, looking at the medic-witch.

"I've never had anyone awake during the process of re-growing bones," Madam Pomfrey replies, a hint of uncertainty lacing her words. "I will need to consult with Professor Snape regarding this," with a grim look on her face she waved her wand over Meissa's body and Daphne saw and felt her going slack. Daphne squeezes her friend's hand once more before she gently slipped free, making sure to ensure that her friend wouldn't be too uncomfortable.

With one last look at her friend she leaves the Hospital Wing with Hermione and Ron, determinedly ignoring the red head to keep from wanting to hex the other boy.

"Daphne?" Hermione starts in a low voice, "Do you think Meissa is going to be ok?"

"I don't know," she confessed, "I've never heard of someone being able to resist the Skele-Gro."

"What does Skele-Gro do anyway?"

"It's a potion that basically re-grows your bones. It'll be like it was never broken in the first place." Daphne allowed a frown to appear on her face. "I don't know too much about it but I believe that one of the components of the potion is something to cause the person to sleep until the potion has finished its' work."

"So… If Meissa resisted the sleep induced portion of the potion then doesn't that mean she could resist the healing portion?"

Ron scuffed. "Why does it matter, Hermione?"

Daphne narrows her eyes at him. Suspecting where this particular line of thought was heading. "Meissa is our friend," Hermione states sternly. "If she can resist potions then she would be in danger of resisting potions that would be beneficial for her."

Daphne blinks as Hermione's words registered in her mind - realizing the truth in them and began to ponder this. If Meissa could resist the Skele-Gro, or at least the portion that would spell her asleep, then could she already be resisting the effects of her potion regime.

"Who cares about her. She's a slimy snake and I think she put a spell over you."

"Ron, she wouldn't do that!"

"That's what she wants you to think! Of course you're not going to think bad about her when you're being controlled by her!"

"How dare you!" Hermione glared at him and - as Daphne watched on - looked just seconds away from slapping the heck out of him. "Meissa would not do anything of the likes of that!"

"You're only proving my point, Hermione. You'll never think of anything negative of her while you're under her spell," he remarks with something akin to a sneer on his face before walking away.

Once he was out of hearing range Hermione made a sound that conveyed her frustration with him.

"He's going to be a problem," Daphne remarks lightly getting a noise of agreement from Hermione.

"I don't really see why Harry is friends with him," the bushy haired girl sighed as she rubs her forehead. "Harry is nothing like him."

"I don't know either. In any case you should return to your dorms. The feast is tomorrow so a head start in packing wouldn't be a horrid idea."

Hermione nods her head in agreement and left Daphne's side with a muttered parting. The blonde nods and watched her go until she was out of sight before heading down to the Slytherin dungeons, thinking to herself and wondering if Meissa will have recovered enough to attend the Feast.

~MJB~

So… who wants to kill Ron now?

I'm actually curious to know who will predict what happens at the feast. If I remember right that should be the next chapter. So that's an exciting bit to come yea? Aight, leave a review or pm if you have a question.

Ja ne!