So... I'm 8 days late. No excuses other than trying to get my bedroom all situated after the moving. I just finished chapter 35 and lo and behold I need one more chapter to maybe finish book one. I'm not sure I'll be able to post a chapter next month (not to mention it's getting close to finals week o.o). Anyway, enjoy!

Chapter 34: End of Term Feast

Meissa awoke the next day to find only a dull ache in her bones in comparison to the sharp lancing pain from before. Relieved that she isn't in pain any more she pushed herself into a sitting position, rubbing her eyes and suppressing a yawn.

"Meissa, you're awake," she hears Harry call out to her. Recovering from a yawn she looked over to find that Harry looked much better than he had the last time she had seen him.

"Hullo Harry," she greets amiably. "What did I miss?"

"Nothing too much," he answers. "Professor Snape was here sometime yesterday - he seemed pretty mad over the Skele-Gro." She winces slightly realizing that she could expect to receive a scolding from her godfather.

"You told her about the potion?"

"Yes."

Meissa couldn't quite suppress the noise of groan when she realized that her godfather was going to rip her a new one for withholding information that could've been important to her health.

"What's wrong?"

"My godfather is going to be steaming mad when I see him next," she rubs her forehead in aggravation.

"Oh." She looks up towards him to find that he had a worried look on his face. "Are you going to be okay?"

"Yes," she watched him for a moment. "The worse I expect from him is being grounded. Of course, there's also the fact that I deliberately put myself in harm's way following after you the other night," she thought to herself about that one. Chances are she would be grounded for some time - she rather hoped that she wouldn't be grounded for too long, she really did want to spend some time with Hermione over the summer break.

"What does he normally do when you're grounded?"

"It depends on what I did. Once, I blew up the potion lab when I was younger," she confessed, getting a disbelieving laugh from Harry. "I had this brilliant idea that I could create a potion that would be the cure to - well, you don't need to know what I was trying to cure. My point is I didn't have an understanding of what I was doing," she tells him. "I just tried to copy my godfather, putting in ingredients I thought would work together. What happened was… it started to bubble in this way that was… incredibly ominous.

"And then with this thundering boom it exploded and I was knocked back." She subconsciously rubs her shoulder as she recalled that day. "I was lucky - the bubbling told me right away that I did something really stupid and I managed to turn away in time to keep from getting the potion in my eyes."

"What did it do?"

"It tried to eat away at me. I was fortunate that my godfather was in the house with me at that time. He managed to keep me from dying that day, and once he found out what I was doing he went into a rage that… to this day still scares me. He then grounded me for a month and required that I read a book called One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi." She saw the way Harry's eyes lit up and knew he recalled having to read the book for an essay in at least one occasion.

"Wow… So your godfather punishes you according to your…"

"Crime?"

"Yes."

"That's what he tries to do. That particular incident he sought to educate me as to why I messed up as well as punish me. And in a way, it encouraged me to be better. I learned how to brew properly instead of just randomly tossing in potion ingredients."

"That's… different from what I've ever experienced."

"Yea?" she looks at him in curiosity, recalling her suspicions from before. She had a whole book of notes regarding the magical laws on child abuse or neglect and needed to get her hands on books regarding the muggle laws, preferably written by someone who is either a muggle, muggleborn, or a squib with intimate knowledge of the muggle laws. Otherwise it would be worthless if it was written by a wizard or witch.

"What was your groundings like Harry?" she asked lightly.

"Uh… I would be sent to my room, normally, if I did something wrong," Harry answered weakly - or it sounded like a weak answer to Meissa's ears.

"Do you get grounded a lot?"

"My uncle would label me as a problem child," he confessed.

She tilts her head at him, thinking about what she knows about him. "Really?" she shook her head in disagreement. "I don't know, Harry, I've only known you for… well, a year, and I feel that you're the furthest thing away from what I would consider to be a problem child."

"Thank you," Harry mutters quietly.

"Harry," she waits until he's looking at her. "Do you trust me?"

She watched him as he looks at her for a long moment. "Yeah. I mean… I trusted you to keep me safe…"

"It's one thing to trust me to keep you safe and another thing to trust me with anything in general."

"Oh… I-I feel that I can."

She arched an eyebrow at him. "Harry, you don't have to force it if you don't know yet," she reassures him. "I know that I've been primarily Hermione's friend but I hope that someday you and I will become proper friends."

"I… I definitely want that. And… I think I would want to learn how to duel from you."

She nods in agreement. "Whenever we have the time, Harry, I'd gladly teach you."

They share a smile between themselves before Madam Pomfrey showed up and ran a few spells over them, making little noises that told them nothing.

"I want to go to the feast," Harry told her while she was straightening his many candy boxes. "I can, can't I?"

"Professor Dumbledore says you are to be allowed to go," the medic-witch replied stiffly. Meissa was amused by her tone - it was as if she saw a danger/risk in Harry attending the feast. "And you have another visitor."

With that she came over to Meissa and began to wave her wand over her, doing further tests. While the doors opened to admit Hagrid into the Hospital Wing and not for the first time Meissa noted that he looked too big to be indoors. He sat down next to Harry and with one look he burst into tears.

She blinked at this and looked at Madam Pomfrey who looked like she had an expression of exasperation with the whole situation.

"It's - all - my - ruddy - fault!" the game keeper sobbed into his hands. "I told the evil git how ter get past Fluffy! I told him! It was the only thing he didn't know, an' I told him! Yeh could've died! All fer a dragon egg! I'll never drink again! I should be chucked out an' made ter live as a Muggle!"

"Hagrid!" Harry exclaims, shocked by this display of grief and remorse. Meissa was beginning to have a headache just from the sheer noise being produced from that side of the wing and Madam Pomfrey immediately gave her a migraine potion.

"Hagrid," Meissa tries, drawing his attention to her, "the information you shared would have been discovered sooner or later."

"Meissa's right, Hagrid. Voldemort would've found out even if you didn't say anything."

"Yeh could've died!" he sobbed. "An' don't say the name!"

"VOLDEMORT!" Harry bellowed that had Meissa grimacing at once from the sheer volume. Only part of her thought that it succeeded in shutting Hagrid up since he stopped crying as a result.

"Aiyi, Harry, stop with the yelling," Meissa gripes as she rubbed at her temples, massaging the pounding pressure she felt there.

"Sorry," he calls over to her before he started to speak to Hagrid again, "I've met him and I'm calling him by his name. Professor Dumbledore is right about that - fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself."

"There's a valid reason why everyone fears the name, Harry," Meissa injects, recalling the stories she had heard. She knew the risks of becoming too accustomed to referring the Dark Lord by his name but needed to inform Harry of the dangers so he could make his own decisions. She had no doubt that Dumbledore had not explained the reasoning behind the ridiculous names they've invented. "In the later years of Voldemort's terrorism - for that is what it was," she glared sternly at Hagrid when he looked ready to interrupt, "the Dark Lord placed a Taboo spell on his name."

"Taboo Spell?"

"Yes. I'll explain in a minute," she tells him when he opened his mouth to, she could only guess, question her further. "No one knew at the time but after a few months everyone realized that whoever utters 'Voldemort' - whether in the privacy of their home or in public - the Death Eaters would arrive and… all would die." Harry had a horrified look on his face. "No one wished to call him 'Dark Lord', to do so would to cause all to believe they support him and his agenda. Yet they could not call him 'Voldemort' without risking their very lives. So… they began to call him 'You-Know-Who' or 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named'."

"The Taboo Spell - what it does is alert the caster or those tied to the spell to when a certain word or an action is performed. If one was to, for example, forbid the consumption of pumpkin juice then anyone who drinks the juice after that would be marked - on a map to show their location."

Harry frowned as he followed what she was telling him. "So, anyone who even speaks Voldemort's name was identified," he summarized in his own words to make sure he understood this right. The nod he gotten from the raven haired girl confirmed this for him. "Okay… so it makes sense that everyone would be afraid of saying his name," he was frowning, clearly thinking about what this meant in general. "So, why isn't Professor Dumbledore the same?"

"Well… It's said… that the only person Voldemort was truly afraid of was… Professor Dumbledore," she answered.

"So… What would you suggest I do?" Harry questioned her.

"I refuse to say the ridiculous names they've come up for him - that's the only reason why I call him Voldemort," she shrugged slightly - pleased to find that there was little to no pain with the movement. "And if I call him 'Dark Lord' then everyone will assume I support him."

"So if someone was to call him 'Dark Lord' then…" she trails off, watching his face as she waited for him to draw the right conclusions.

"It could be seen as sympathizing with him," Harry concluded like she had thought he would.

He was smart - he has shown that on more than one occasions - but just refused to show it often. She knew from Hermione's frequent comments and complaints that Harry and Ron barely devote any time to their school work. But she felt that if he just tried he would succeed in so many things. If one just explained things to him - the context, the relating information - then he would begin to shine.

But the secrets - that would do nothing but hinder him, in her personal opinion anyway.

"So… I'm damned if I do, damned if I don't," Harry looked at her while Hagrid made a noise that indicated he had objections. Now that she thought about it he had been quiet - throughout the entire time she's been talking to Harry, other than blowing his nose into a hanky that was probably big enough to be a blanket for someone. She realized that it was a disgusting thought the moment it popped into her mind.

"Yes. This is why I told you all of this. It was so that you would be informed of the possible consequences because only you can make your decisions - no one else."

Harry nods, understanding her points and looked at Hagrid. "Please cheer up, Hagrid," he sighs, realizing that he was still upset, "we saved the stone, it's gone, he can't use it." He gestures at the pile of candies he has received while he was unconscious. "Have a Chocolate Frog, I've got loads…"

Meissa winced as Hagrid sniffled a bit too loudly for her own tastes. "That reminds me. I've got yeh a present."

"It's not a stoat sandwich, is it?" Harry asked anxiously while Meissa shuddered slightly at the last time she attempted the Groundskeeper's cooking. It was a miracle she hadn't chipped a tooth when she tempted a biscuit he had made. It was definitely a learning experience she would not want to attempt again.

"Nah," Hagrid shook his head, giving a weak chuckle. "Dumbledore gave me the day off yesterday ter fix it. 'Course, he shoulda sacked me instead - anyway, got yeh this…"

Meissa saw him produce a book from one of his pockets - it appeared to be tiny whilst in his hands - and handed it over to Harry. Meissa couldn't quite make out what it was from where she sat but it did look something similar to a book.

"Sent owls off ter all yer parents' old school friends, askin' fer photos…" Hagrid explained gently - as gentle as one could with his rather loud voice. At his words Meissa realized just what Harry had gotten and felt… a knot in her chest. It was a reminder that their situation wasn't all that different.

They both grew up without the love of their parents - in that aspect they were alike, the only difference was that she knows her mother is still alive and that she could, if she made the right connections, visit her. But Harry could never see his parents again except in photos. It was with this knowledge in mind that she felt awkward, recalling the rage she had carried for Harry, blaming him for her mother's incarnation. "Knew yeh didn' have any… d'yeh like it?"

It was at this moment that Meissa turned her head away - giving them some mediocre form of privacy she could at that moment.

~MJB~

Meissa waved aside Madam Pomfrey's fussiness, insisting that there is no lingering pain from her previously fractured ribs nor was there any aches in her bones or exhaustion in her emotions or magic. It was in that moment that the raven haired girl swore to herself that she would do all she could to avoid being sent to the Hospital Wing from that point on.

It was because of her fussiness that they've been delayed in joining the others in the Great Hall. Harry and her had mostly made the trip in silence, but she had to admit to herself that it wasn't an uncomfortable sort either. It was like they had made some kind of peace in the last two days and internally knew that there was no reason to make idle talk.

When they arrived they saw that the Great Hall was decked out in Slytherin colors of green and silver, a slight pause occurring as they took in the sight. Meissa knew, from the tales told by the upper years, that this would be the seventh year of them winning the house cup in a row. A huge banner with the Slytherin serpent covered the wall behind the High Table where the Professors and staff sat.

"Congratulations," Harry said to her, with no ill will towards her or Slytherin.

"Thank you," she glanced at him for a moment before giving him a half grin, "Better luck next year?" This earned her a grin as they found something to compete in.

"May the best House win," he returned, a spark of happiness and competitiveness appearing in his eyes.

In the hush that had fell upon their entrance just about all heard their brief conversation, the acoustic of the Hall spreading their words easily. A heartbeat passed before everyone started talking loudly at once so she waved a hand at Harry before turning to join her House mates, leaving his side as she sought out Daphne with her eyes.

A space was open between her and her cousin, she sees, and moved to take it while ignoring the stares of those in her House. She didn't really care all that much about what they thought - the few people whose opinion she cared about were those she cared a great deal about.

"How are you feeling?" Daphne asked quietly, leaning in to ensure as much privacy as possible.

"Better than I was before," Meissa confessed before she studied her friend's face - seeing the genuine concern. "I was told that you visited last night?"

"I did."

"Thank you," Meissa muttered, averting her eyes shyly.

Before Daphne could question her friend about the matter Dumbledore arrived, the Great Hall falling silence in respect or in some approximation of it.

"Another year gone!" Dumbledore says cheerfully from behind his podium. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth in our delicious feast." Meissa scoffs at his words, a huff of breath the only thing escaping. "What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were… you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts…"

Meissa exchanged looks between her cousin and Daphne, expressing to them that she thought that the Headmaster was insane. The slight nods she got from them indicated that they agreed.

"Now, as I understand it, the house cup here needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw has four hundred and twenty-six and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy-two."

A storm of cheering and stamping broke out at the table - Meissa fought to keep the cringe off her face as the noise assaulted her mind. As she was trying to resist the migraine she felt a vial being pressed into her palm and found herself looking at Daphne who gave her a reassuring smile. Nodding her head in thanks she quickly downs the potion and nudged her cousin who was banging his goblet on the table.

"Knock it off will you," she hissed at him, getting the faintest look of remorse from the blonde boy.

"Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin," Dumbledore spoke up, commanding their attention once more. Something about his patronizing tone set off a sense of unease and when she looked at Daphne she saw the same look reflected there. Draco, on the other hand, was ecstatic that they had won the House cup. "However," he continued and at once she knew that something was about to go very wrong for them, "recent events must be taken into account."

The room went very still and she saw the smiles on her House mate's face fade a little.

"Ahem," Dumbledore smiles amiably at everyone. "I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes…"

"First - to Mr. Ronald Weasley," the Headmaster starts. Meissa felt her heart seize as she realized what was about to happen. She looked across to the other side of the Hall and found Weasley, Harry, and Hermione. The youngest of the Weasley boys was purple in the face - if Draco saw he probably would've made an unflattering comment about it.

"For the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor house forty points."

In the amidst of the cheers from Gryffindor, Meissa's indignant shout was lost. She saw red and felt a hand at the bend of her arm, grounding her even through the intense rage she was feeling.

"Meissa, look," she distantly hears Daphne say before she found herself looking towards the Gryffindor table, an expression of offended pride and outrage on her face. She didn't know that - as her godfather watched her - she looked remarkably similar to her mother. But as she looked she found that Hermione was arguing fiercely with Ron who had something akin to a sneer on his face, as if he didn't care. Harry had the look of confusion on his face but seemed to be siding with Hermione, with the spark of disproval on his face.

"How did he take credit without anyone noticing?" Meissa muttered, the anger vanishing deep inside her. Seeing Harry and Hermione's reactions she knew that she hadn't been betrayed by them.

She wasn't sure when but eventually silence fell over the hall once more.

"Second - to Ms. Hermione Granger… for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor house sixty points."

Meissa looked at Hermione, their eyes connecting, and found that the Gryffindor girl was unsure about what to do. They had worked together to come up with the answer to the riddle. Meissa knew from scent alone which of the seven had the wine and that made it easier to identify the poisons. But she had no illusion that without her Hermione wouldn't be able to figure out the puzzle. The bushy haired girl is absolutely brilliant, she wouldn't have needed any aid at all. So in this instance she didn't care about credit - but in regards to the chess match she did care if only because she made sure to keep Harry and Hermione out of harm's way.

In the midst of the cheers - Gryffindor was now a hundred points up - Meissa looked over to her godfather and saw that his face was growing more and more ominous by the passing second.

"Third - to Ms. Meissa Black…" The hall went quiet and she found herself holding her breath, "for a well fought duel, I award Slytherin house… ten points." Silence reigned - in light of the points that had been thrown out, the points was insignificant. Meissa had no idea if she was supposed to be insulted - in fact, that's exactly what she feels.

This… this act made it extremely clear in her mind that Dumbledore was bias. Just like everyone else in the country.

"Fourth - to Mr. Harry Potter…" The entire hall was still silent, it was enough to allow a person to hear the drop of a pin, "for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house seventy points."

The noise was deafening. Meissa counted the numbers in her head and realized that Gryffindor was now tied with them. So now she wondered what would come next because she doubted he would stop here. Draco was shouting protests, furious about the whole thing. She shared a look with Daphne, wondering what more Dumbledore was going to do.

Dumbledore, after some time, raised his hand for silence which he got almost immediately.

"There are all kinds of courage," he says with a smile on his face - making her distrust him immediately if not more than ever before. "It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom."

Meissa winced and covered her ears at the explosion of noise, almost immediately feeling Daphne's hand on her back. The sheer volume of the cheering was so painful that she found it almost hard to concentrate. But still, she forced herself to look across the hall to Hermione and Harry. The Gryffindor girl was looking at her - it was too far to see what emotions were there in her eyes but she imagined there was concern. Harry looked shocked as Weasley - it was hard to miss him - shook the black haired boy, glee apparent on the red head's face. And from the corner of her eyes she saw Longbottom disappear under the swarm of people hugging him - her mind wondering only briefly just what he had done to warrant praise, or was it just a convenient thing for Dumbledore to latch onto?

"No!" Draco protested, his voice clear due to proximity and only because of that.

"Which means," Dumbledore called over the storm of applause, as Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were celebrating as well, "we need a little change of decoration."

"I cannot believe he did that," Daphne hissed into Meissa's ear, noting but ignoring the shudder from the close contact. "He gave you merely ten points for dueling?! You did more than that!"

"I know," she turned towards her friend as Dumbledore clapped his hands. The green hangings, high above their heads, became scarlet and the silver became gold; the huge Slytherin serpent vanished and a towering Gryffindor lion took its place. "But it's a lesson learned."

"What lesson?" Draco demanded, somehow overhearing this in the midst of cheers.

"That Dumbledore is bloody bias little wanker," Meissa concludes with an angry sneer on her face.

"Language!" Draco goggled at her.

She ignored him as she spotted her godfather shaking Professor McGonagall's hand - she saw that both had a look of discontent on their faces. Which struck her odd since she would've thought that the Transfiguration Professor would be overjoyed that her House won, unless she was all about fair play.

She shook her head in disbelief at what had transpired in the past ten minutes, her head throbbing as she fought her emotions. The rage was toxic and choking so she made an effort to slide it away and into the pools - reminding herself to let it out when she could vent properly. The disappointment was a deep sensation that she didn't think she could hide even if she could try. She was… disappointed that the cup they had won - rightly won through their efforts from the time of the welcoming feast to the End of the Year feast and it was snatched away. The disappointment mingled too much with the rage but she knew that she didn't want to hide it away so she separated the feeling into two parts.

The part that was tangled with her anger she cut away and allowed to sink into the pools while the rest remained free.

After that was sorted through she found that there was no other emotion. Just rage and disappointment.

"This," Daphne muttered, "this is the start of something bad."

Meissa turned to her, puzzled by the randomness of the comment and arched an eyebrow at her. "What brought that on?"

"Think about it, Slytherin wins for six years straight and then this year happens - a Philosopher's Stone in the heart of Hogwarts, a possessed Professor, and nearly two hundred points awarded to Gryffindor because the Boy Who Lived did some insane thing," Daphne grumbled.

Draco leaned over, his breath brushing over Meissa's skin and prompting her to elbow him for space. With a grumble he obliged, saying, "You think the Headmaster will do something like this again?"

"It doesn't seem that farfetched."

Meissa frowned as she recalled her earlier suspicions about the stone and Professor Dumbledore. But the reminder of the possession of Professor Quirrell reminded her of something.

"Does anyone know any books on spirits?" she spoke up, interrupting whatever was being said between her cousin and Daphne.

"You might find something in the Library," Draco comments. "But we're leaving tomorrow, remember?"

"I think there's a book in my family's personal library," Daphne adds in before Meissa could say something to her cousin. "If I find it I'll owl it to you."

"Thank you," she says to the blonde, thinking about what she had in mind.

There was something odd going on in Hogwarts and she intended to find out just what it was.

~MJB~

So... does anyone feel like killing a few people after this chapter? Let me know who is on your hit list! I might consider doing an omake for the heck of it.