Title: Lusus Naturae

Chapter: Twenty

Rating: M for Mood-Kill

Warnings: Abuse, Death, Gryffindors

"C'mon, I'll walk you back to your room."

Harry pushed away from the table, slinging a leg over the bench to join Neville as the last of the desserts vanished from the table and the other students began filing out the way they had come.

"Actually," Harry countered. "I'm supposed to go to Gryffindor Tower."

Neville stopped abruptly causing Harry to crash into his back. The crowd of retreating students parted around them. It was only with an insistent shove that Neville began ambulating again, this time at a much slower pace. Following his friend's lead, Harry hung back until they found themselves at the end of the queue to leave the Great Hall.

"You're joking," Neville asked. His face had taken on a sickly pallor.

Harry shook his head. "Dumbledore's orders. Snape was... not happy," he added with a grimace.

Neville grabbed Harry's arm and said quite seriously, "Harry, er- I rode the train with the rest of them. They were saying some awful things. Maybe it's best you go back to Professor Snape's rooms tonight."

"What were they saying?"

"I'd rather not..."

Harry eyed Neville for a moment before allowing the boy's shameful expression to dissuade him from pushing for an explanation. He could imagine well enough on his own.

"I don't have much of a choice," he said glumly.

The two marched up the Grand Staircase towards the seventh floor looking to all the world like prisoners on their way to receive the Kiss. Having fallen away from the coagulating student body they were left to walk alongside Percy Weasley, the Gryffindor Prefect, who pointedly avoided acknowledging either of them. When they got to the portrait of the Fat Lady, Percy at least provided the password, though he muttered it without a glance spared in their direction.

"Scurvy Cur."

The Fat Lady offered Harry a sad smile as he passed.

They stepped into the Common Room - the Lion's Den as it were - with their heads lowered and the singular goal of sneaking up to their dormitory unscathed. Harry had hardly crossed over into the warm sitting area from the entry corridor before his attempts at going unnoticed failed.

"Oi, Potter!"

The raucous conversation quieted to sibilant whispers as the others turned to watch him enter. Seamus Finnegan leapt atop one of the tables positioned at the center of the room to be seen above the taller students milling about.

"You're in the wrong house, mate!" Dean shouted.

Seamus grinned, patting Dean on the shoulder and raised his own voice to inform Harry, "Snakes sleep in the dungeons!"

A ripple of agreement spread through his housemates. Harry was not given time to react. Neville led him by the arm towards the stairs to the boy's dormitories. They had nearly made it up the first few steps when a figure descended from the upper floor.

Ron Weasley looked positively sick to lay eyes on Harry. His face twisted into an exaggerated cringe and half of his lower body made to turn and flee back up the stairs. It seemed his brain caught on after a moment that Harry and Neville were heading to the same place.

"You're not staying here?!" Ron managed with a crack in his voice for his efforts, pointing dumbly at Harry as if to make his point.

"Move, Ron," Neville said, his eyes looking squarely at the ground but his tone firm.

"You heard the man," Seamus hollered. "You're not staying here!"

"Yeah!"

"Get out, snake!"

Percy Weasley stepped in to mediate, much to the older boy's displeasure. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Let us pass," Harry hissed, climbing a stair and causing the younger redhead to retreat up a step in kind. "I'm tired. I'd like to get some sleep."

"No bloody way!" Ron yelped, eyes flicking to his older brother. "Percy..."

"You had best come with me, Potter."

"Really?"

"Harry," Neville whispered, tugging on the sleeve of his robe.

Harry turned and witnessed the others - now standing at attention, mutely observing the proceedings - and took careful note at the many wands drawn. Some were even pointed.

The portrait of the Fat Lady swung open again, permitting entrance to two giggling feminine voices. Three young witches stepped cautiously into the pervasive silence.

"Harry," Hermione Granger gasped.

She hesitated a moment, visibly deciphering the conflict unfolding in the room. Parvati Patil let go of Hermione's arm as the bushy-haired witch pulled away. Ginny Weasley made quick work of stepping around the barrier presented by Patil's motionless body to witness it for herself.

"Ronald..." Hermione warned lowly having spied him blocking the stairs. "What are you doing?"

She moved across the room to put herself between Harry and the others. Neville - grateful for the back up - joined her at the bottom of the stairs to stand guard.

"What's going on?" Ginny asked into the tense silence.

She looked between the faces of her older brothers who were sprinkled across the scene in varying degrees of dismay. Ron pointedly ignored making eye contact with her, Fred and George were huddled in the far corner with their backs turned - likely profiting off the unexpected diversion - and Percy quietly ordered her to go find Professor McGonagall. With a glance spared at Harry's back she took off to do just that.

"You'd better go, Harry," Oliver wood said, encouraged by the display from Hermione and Neville to join in his defense. His wand was drawn in a loose grip at his side. He proclaimed loudly over the hushed whispers, "Nothing to see here! There will be no fighting," he added, waving his wand across them to ward off any would-be duellists.

"Ron," Harry tried. The boy who had once been his best friend - his first friend, even, after Hagrid of course - did not answer. "Let me by."

"You can't go up there," Ron argued, clearly frantic at the thought.

After a moment considering his options, Harry spared the briefest of moments sizing up the body barricading the stairwell before launching himself under Ron's spread arms. He threw an elbow into the redhead's ribcage as he passed, lurching up the stairs two at a time. It felt vaguely reminiscent of racing past his cousin Dudley on the stairs to use the loo... With his belongings already moved from his room to the Gryffindor dormitories, Harry had no intentions of leaving them behind.

"Bloody-" Ron cursed, but his words faded into the background.

"Harry!" Neville cried.

Harry cleared the upper landing and sprinted down the corridor. Pounding foot steps followed closely behind. He didn't spare a glance back to see whose they were. The door to his dorm was propped open. He ducked inside and slammed it closed as he went.

He saw his trunk first, sitting atop the mattress of the four-poster bed he had spent his first two years at Hogwarts relishing in the comfort of. It was open. His belongings were tossed. A collection of vials containing his nightly regimen of potions were scattered across the floor beneath the bed; some were shattered, leaking multi-colored tonics and supplements through gaps in the floorboards. Clothes were draped over the canopy. His pants were prominently hung at the foot of the bed. Someone had written 'Potty' on his pillow in black splotchy ink.

There was a struggle outside the door. Harry didn't bother to open it, but he hadn't needed to. It swung open groaning as the disused hinges rubbed against themselves.

"Potter," a gravelly voice called from behind him. "Come with me."

"The Headmaster will hear of this, I assure you."

The Transfiguration Professor looked down her nose at Harry who had glumly surrendered to the circumstances of his capture. He didn't bother to give her the same attention. She was speaking about him, not to him.

An incessant whirring sound hovered over his left shoulder emanating from Alastor Moody's mad eye. Beyond that, all Harry could focus on was the nauseating smell coming off the disfigured man. Not quite the reek of the late Professor Quirrel's fetid turban, but something off that Harry could not name.

"What would you like me to do with him?" Alastor demanded gruffly, as though he could only speak in curt antagonistic undertones.

Professor McGonagall sniffed, "Take him to Severus."

Moody mutely agreed to do just that. He set off away from the both of them, leaving Harry to trail behind if he wished to escape the glare of his Head of House. The clank of the man's metal foot on the cobblestones, alternating with the resounding thud of his walking stick, echoed off the walls as Harry was escorted down the hall. They had come to find McGonagall in her quarters what with it being after hours. Professor Snape's quarters were only a few doors away.

Mad-Eye didn't bother to knock. He booted the door thrice with his false leg. Professor Snape answered almost immediately. The door swung inside and Severus' expression morphed between disdain, surprise, and concern in rapid succession - not that Harry bothered to look up from the ground to witness it.

"Moody," Severus droned.

"Snape," Alastor growled.

A moment of silence passed between the two men and Harry tentatively raised his face to view whatever unspoken conversation was taking place. As he did, Professor Moody came to the decision that his time was better spent elsewhere and mutely stomped away. Harry found he preferred the silent brooding to the one-sided conversation Mad-Eye had held with himself as he led Harry away from Gryffindor Tower, cursing children and Dark Lords and Azkaban prisoners under his breath the whole way along.

Severus hesitated in the doorway, examining Harry where he stood.

"Come in," the man offered finally, not unkindly, stepping aside to allow space beneath his outstretched arm for Harry to pass. "Have you taken your potions?"

He noted Professor Snape scanned the length of the hall where it continued away from the door to their quarters with a palpable suspicion before closing and bolting it behind them. Harry barely made it inside before collapsing into the nearest of several severe looking antique chairs spread around the sitting area.

"Care to tell me what happened?" Severus asked.

A spot of tea appeared on an end table nearby, conjured by the Professor with the help of the house elves no doubt. Severus carefully navigated across the room, giving Harry a wide berth as if the silent angst would eat him alive if he were to stray too near, and poured two strong cups.

"They trashed my things," Harry offered flatly.

He took the opportunity to dispense with the uncomfortable weight of the glamour, shrugging off the enchanted pendant. Severus exchanged it for a steaming mug and disposed of it nearby before settling into the chair opposite him.

"Anything else?"

"They said, 'Snakes sleep in the dungeons,'" Harry added.

"We expected this."

"Mhm."

"It will take time," Severus offered, if blandly with s sneer. "Gryffindor loyalty, indeed."

Harry set down his untouched tea and stood. He dragged his feet across the room towards the hallway.

"I'm going to sleep," Harry muttered before the Professor could ask.

"Sleep well, Harry."

Harry awoke the next morning to a note from Professor Mcgonagall, which Professor Snape handed him with a welcome candor about his feelings on the matter. It stated he was to return to Gryffindor Tower again the following evening. Exceptions would not be made to accommodate him at this time.

Professor Snape said he was powerless to intervene, citing some ancient by-law instituted by the Founders of Hogwarts themselves. Harry had seen first hand the workings of Salazar Slytherin in the depths of the Chamber of Secrets below the school and thought any by-laws owing to the Founders could go suck on a Lemon Drop.

After Arithmancy with the Ravenclaws that afternoon, Harry excused himself from Neville and Hermione. The two had done a passable job posing as human shields between him and the rest of his house mates for the walk to and the duration of the class, but Harry was still on a reduced schedule and they were off to Herbology with Professor Sprout. Neville let him leave only after promising to meet him in the library when classes were finished.

He was left meandering the vacant halls alone. A handful of upper year students enjoying their free period mulled about, but Harry went largely unnoticed. Part of him considered sneaking into Gryffindor Tower and planting himself behind the closed curtains of his bed in hopes they might not notice him there for the night. Something akin to rage seized his chest at the thought.

That feeling carried him to where he stood, glaring down the stone gargoyle that guarded the Headmaster's Office. Professor Snape would be livid if he found out Harry had the intention of not only disobeying orders to avoid the Headmaster at all costs, but had bothered to seek the conniving old man out. He would deal with that when the time came.

He took out his wand. It required shuffling the most prized of his possessions between deep pockets in his robes where he had stashed them to keep them safe, given that anything of his that he set down appeared to vanish and reappear in the Gryffindor dormitories. Neville had snatched his Invisibility Cloak and a few of his books for him that morning.

He tapped the holly stick on the closed eye of the gargoyle and took a step back when it blinked at him.

"I need to speak with Headmaster Dumbledore," Harry said as a question, wondering if he would be permitted without the password.

The stone statue seemed to regard him for a moment before it rose to full height and leapt out of the way. Harry muttered a gracious 'Thanks' as he ascended the spiral staircase.

The Headmaster was not in. At the very least the customary seat behind his desk was vacant and Harry had misgivings about his plan as he stepped into the intimidating space. It seemed larger in the Headmaster's absence. Instead of a genial greeting he received a sad trill from the Phoenix perched on a golden ledge near the window.

"Fawkes," Harry whispered. He crossed the room eager to run his fingers through the creature's silk feathers. "He's not here?"

"Not as such, Mr. Potter," harrumphed one of the portraits hanging behind the desk.

Harry tried to cover the startled misstep in his footing as he craned his neck to observe them. It wasn't a face he recognized.

Phineas Nigellus Black...

Though, maybe he did. He paused to consider how he would address the man - er, portrait - but it seemed the late Headmaster Black was not interested in hearing what he had to say. The man turned and quickly strode off the canvas. The others were eerily vacant.

"Hm," Harry hummed as he continued towards Fawkes.

The phoenix sang another haunting note as it unfurled, stretching out its beak towards him. Harry's fingers met the fuzzy feathers at the crown of Fawke's head and a jolt of energy sparked between them. Fawkes sang and the agitation that plagued Harry throughout the day slowly faded to the back of his mind.

"Harry Potter," a familiar voice croaked.

He didn't have to guess at its source. He turned his head a fraction to catch sight of the Hogwarts Sorting Hat in his peripherals.

"Back again, are we?"

He stroked the length of Fawkes' wings and considered ignoring the self-important accessory altogether.

"I have nowhere else to go," Harry murmured sourly. "The Gryffindors don't think I should be in their house."

"I told you," the hat chortled. "You would do well in Slytherin."

"A bit late for that."

"Sorting is not a binding contract."

Harry turned at that, but as he did the sound of stone grinding against itself crept up the staircase. It announced the approaching presence of the Headmaster who strolled lesiurely through the open door a few moments later.

"Harry," Dumbledore said warmly. "I hope you're feeling alright?"

Harry narrowed his eyes as he mentally calculated the reversal of their usual roles. He stood further from the door and could not shake the sinking feeling that he had wandered into a trap.

"The gargoyle let me in," he explained in lieu of an answer. "I came to ask about my sleeping arrangements, sir."

The Headmaster looked past him and his eyebrows furrowed into something of a solemn, downturned expression. "Ah, yes. I was afraid it would be a contentious decision. Professor McGonagall was well within her rights to demand it, as I'm sure Professor Snape informed you."

Harry could practically taste the lie as it hung in the air between them. He couldn't immediately tell what game the old wizard was playing at, but it certainly did not bode well for him. He carefully considered his options before countering the first move.

"Professor McGonagall told me it was your decision, sir."

There was a near imperceptible pause as Dumbledore returned the consideration and began plotting his response.

"Would you care to have a seat?"

Harry was more than happy to resume their customary positions on the proverbial chess board and made for one of the nearby armchairs.

"I believe Minerva spoke with your housemates this morning before breakfast," the Headmaster explained patiently. "I understand your concerns, having lived much of my life as the odd one out. These things are only temporary."

"Aren't you afraid I might hurt someone?"

One of the Headmaster's shoulders tensed and Harry knew he had found something. A dark pride bristled beneath his skin.

"Are you?" Dumbledore countered lightly.

The wizard was now inspecting him with a close interest, peering over half-moon lenses with a calculating glint to his eye. Harry could feel the intrigue boring holes into his back.

"After what I did to Professor Lupin..." he trailed off.

"You didn't mean to, by your own admission."

"Well, no sir," he agreed. "Professor Lupin attacked me, but last night in the Common Room the other students had their wands drawn."

"I suspect you have more control over your actions than you believe, my boy. Control of oneself is the strongest weapon against our detractors."

Harry curled one hand around the pendant he wore and pondered those words for the briefest of moments. "You think I chose to hurt Professor Lupin then, sir?"

"I don't believe you have that sort of darkness in you, Harry," Dumbledore said firmly as he circled the room, ending behind his desk. He lowered himself into his own chair with a groan. "That alone is why I've gone to such efforts to protect you."

"What if I have another accident?" Harry asked, keeping his voice small and unassuming.

"I trust you would come to me before the matter spiraled out of hand."

"What would happen to me, though?"

Dumbledore sat back in his chair and laced his fingers over his lap. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"Would I go back to Professor Snape's quarters then, sir?"

Harry rose his apathetic eyes to the answering tightness in the Headmaster's face and offered the vaguest hint of a smile. Some part of him relished in the shudder the old man suppressed.

Dumbledore leaned forward and said with all the seriousness that he often hid behind a facade of patronizing geniality, "I'm afraid if you were to harm another student in this school, we would have to consider expulsion. There would be no protecting you, Harry."

"I understand, sir."

A/N: Is this suspenseful? I think I might be bad at this.