A/N: Happy New Year! And hello again. Sorry for the long wait, but better late than never, right? I survived my first semester of vet school and am very happy to have finally finished this chapter over break. Unfortunately, I can still make no promises about any timely updates going forward, but please know that I am still working on them in my very limited spare time. I want to see this story finished as much as you! And a big thank you to everyone who is still reading!

Warning(s): violence, character death, mentions/discussions of suicide, descriptions of injuries/blood

Chapter 18 - Day And Night

On Wednesday morning, Remus woke up with a smile. Despite his much interrupted sleep the previous night he was in a splendid mood. Tossing open his hangings, Remus happily sprang to his feet. He cheerily made his way around the room, unceremoniously ripping open the others' hangings and waking the slumbering boys within.

"Wakey, wakey!" Remus sang. "You know the drill- if I'm up, you're up!"

"But why do you have to get up so bloody early," James whined, attempting to bury his head in his pillow.

In one quick motion, Remus summoned all of their pillows and blankets into a large pile in the middle of the floor. "It's not that early," Remus said with a roll of his eyes. Honestly- you'd think he'd woken them before dawn the way they were whinging.

With a litany of grumbles, Sirius, James, and Peter eventually dragged themselves out of their now barren beds.

"Hey- why is he exempt?" Peter asked with an accusing finger pointed at Harry's still undisturbed bed.

"Because I'm in charge and I say so," Remus shot back.

Sirius gave an exaggerated yawn and stretched. "Good to see the power didn't immediately go to your head," he muttered.

James snorted, "You're one to talk," receiving a glare from the other boy.

"As a show of good will, I'll let you have first go in the bathroom," Remus offered Peter, choosing to ignore the side conversation.

Not one to let an opportunity go to waste, Peter immediately started gathering his clothes before scurrying off towards the loo.

"You have fifteen minutes before I send Padfoot in whether you're done or not!" Remus called after him, causing Peter to let out a squeak and pick up speed and the others to laugh.

As Peter's form disappeared into the bathroom, Sirius turned back towards Remus and the laughter slid off of his face.

"I saw you guys talking last night," he said, nodding towards Harry's bed. "Is he okay?"

Remus sighed and his face fell a little too. "Just some bad dreams. And bad memories. I'm just glad he actually went back to sleep." Sirius nodded.

"How long are you gonna let him sleep?"

Remus shrugged. "It's no use waking him up just to kick around while everyone gets ready. He already showered last night," he pointed out.

"Are we sure he's even actually in there?" James asked, causing Sirius and Remus to look at him with matching frowns. "Hey- don't you act like he's not a flight risk. And like that isn't exactly the kind of thing he'd do- sneak off but make it look like he was still asleep so that we either wouldn't worry or wouldn't track him down."

"He makes a fair point," Sirius admitted, looking back at Remus. While Remus hesitated, Sirius took the initiative and strolled over to peek through Harry's curtains. "Shit."

Remus and James' heads whipped around. "He's gone?!" James gasped, disbelievingly. When he'd originally said it, it had mostly been a joke.

Sirius shook his head, pulling back the hangings a bit to give the others a view of the bed. A fuzzy brown ear could just barely be seen sticking out from under the edge of the blanket where a small lump was curled up. Sirius let the hangings fall closed.

There was a heavy silence as they all considered the situation. The last few times Harry had woken up after shifting in his sleep had not gone well, to say the least.

"How bad was it actually last night?" James pressed Remus. "Bad enough that he's losing control again?"

"I don't know…" Remus admitted. "I mean, he seemed a bit rattled, but honestly, on the 'Harry nightmare scale' I wouldn't have thought it broke the top five. But there's a lot going on inside his head, so who knows."

"He could have done it on purpose," Sirius countered. "When we found him in the forest last night he was Bambi too. I hadn't really thought much of it since he was, you know, in the forest and it was freezing."

They lapsed into a contemplative silence.

"Well, we better get it over with," Sirius eventually sighed. If there was going to be a situation, they're better off having more time to deal with it before class. He pulled back the hangings more fully this time and perched on the edge of the bed. He gently pulled back the covers so that if Harry did wake up and panic, at the very least he wouldn't get tangled up. "Bambi," he called out softly, carefully using the back of one finger to gently stroke the top of his head. "Rise and shine. It's time to get up and face the day. Come on, Bambi."

The little deer's ear twitched and he seemed to lean slightly into the gesture before letting out a sigh and slowly opening his eyes. Sirius drew back once he saw that Harry was awake and retreated from the bed. Bambi lifted his head up, blinking and looking around before flopping his head back onto the pillow. He rolled over onto his side and extended his foreleg in an odd sort of kicking gesture. Letting out a grunt of frustration, he wiggled himself over more towards the edge of the bed and then repeated the strange action- this time succeeding in knocking into the edge of his desk.

As Bambi's hoof connected with the wood making a dull thunk, his eyes shot wide open and he scrambled to get his legs underneath him. However, on the soft mattress, that was easier said than done, and in the end he only succeeded in toppling over the edge and landing in an unceremonious pile on the floor, causing the others to wince in sympathy. Once he got his bearings again, Harry finally shifted back.

"Ow," was all he said, rubbing at his now doubly bruised shoulder.

"Here," Remus said, stepping forward and offering Harry his glasses. "I'm guessing these were what you were going for?"

"Thanks," Harry said, a slight blush creeping up his face in embarrassment as he accepted the spectacles and put them on. With a groan, Harry hauled himself to his feet. "I've really gotta stop doing that," he grumbled.

Not realizing that Harry had been referring to falling out of bed, Sirius asked, "So I take it you didn't mean to transform then?"

"Uhh, no," Harry admitted all the same.

"At least it took him longer to panic this time," James commented to no one in particular.

"Hey! You try waking up without fingers and see how well you keep your composure."

"Hey- I have hooves too, you know. But you don't see me using that as an excuse," James said mock-haughtily.

"Oh, piss off," Harry told him with a dismissive gesture.

"I'm just thinking you could do with some guardrails- or maybe a crash mat," Remus suggested contemplatively.

"Ooh- What's that bumper shield spell they use on toddlers?!" Sirius joined in.

"Piss off, the lot of you," Harry said, brushing past them only to realize that there was already somebody in the bathroom. Changing course, he went and leaned moodily against the far wall.

"Well, I think Petey has gone past his time limit," Remus said, with a knowing smile. He glanced over at Sirius before nodding his head toward the closed bathroom door. "Sic 'em."

Sirius gave him a salute before marching dutifully to the door. As he grabbed the handle, Sirius called out, "Ready or not, here I come!" Before throwing it open and shifting into Padfoot in one smooth motion.

There was a series of loud barks and shouts and the sound of water being cut off before a still dripping wet Peter beat a hasty retreat, towel clutched tightly around his middle. Sirius' cackling laughter echoed through the open doorway as he chucked Peter's clothes out after him before slamming the door closed again.

"Fifteen minutes!" Remus called out in reminder.

"You absolute knob!" Peter huffed, rummaging for another towel to dry his hair with so he could still remain decent.

"Hey- I warned you and you knew the risks," Remus told him in a fair-is-fair sort of way.

"There's time limits on the loo now?" Harry asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Only for these space cadets," Remus said, gesturing at James and Peter and then the closed door that led to Sirius. "We," he motioned between Harry and himself, "are not the problem in the mornings."

"Fair enough," Harry shrugged.

"But only for the week," James reminded Remus. "Wormy and I don't have such draconian rules," he assured Harry, as if this one affected him too. "The rest of us don't believe in such oppression."

"Oh, yes. Waking up on time and being considerate of your roommates- the tyranny!" Remus said dramatically with a false swoon.

"Exactly," James said with a grave nod. "Now," he clapped his hands together with a fiendish smile. "How long until I get to kick Padfoot out?"

"Nine and a half minutes," Remus relayed.

"Tick, tock!" James cackled, dancing around with glee.

"Well, you lot are up early," Gretta said, casting an appraising look across the guys as they clambered into empty seats around the table.

"No sleeping in when Remi's in charge," James said through a yawn.

"Sounds like 'Remi' should be in charge more often," Milli teased.

"I don't know what you're complaining about- you finally have time to eat the breakfast of your dreams before class. You should be thanking me," Remus insisted, shoving the beans towards James, who perked up a bit as the aroma wafted into his face.

There was a flutter of commotion overhead as the mail arrived- something Harry hadn't gotten to see in a while since they were usually so late to breakfast. He leaned back in his seat and watched the well-coordinated chaos of hundreds of owls flooding the hall and yet all of them managing not only to avoid one another, but also to find the one person they were delivering to amongst the messy sea of students. It really was magic.

An owl landed in front of Gretta, delivering the morning copy of the Daily Prophet. She took the paper and offered the owl a bit of toast before it flapped away. Unfolding it, Gretta scanned the headlines and a few seconds later, gasped.

Smacking Milli- who had the misfortune of sitting on Gretta's right- she excitedly said, "Look at this!" As she spread the paper out across the table. Everyone nearby craned their necks to see what she was talking about. Harry had to stand up in order to read the headline over James' shoulder.

Undersecretary Sacked Due to Daughter's Dastardly Dealings

Harry looked around at the others, a little confused why Gretta was so amped up about some Ministry drama. These kinds of headlines- and much worse- seemed to hit the paper more days than not recently. But everyone else was still staring at the paper.

"What does it say?" Lily finally asked in a clipped tone, also too far away to read the small print.

Shoving the others back, Gretta reclaimed the paper and read out, "It was announced this morning that there has been a restructuring at the Ministry of Magic. Richard Willisforth Pembrooke Neith- now former Undersecretary to the Head of the Department of Mysteries- was relieved of his duties earlier this week. Neith will still retain some level of position within the department, he will no longer be serving in that coveted role. While the Ministry has not released a formal statement as to the reason behind the demotion, one does not have to look hard to see a straight line between this decision and events that took place at the end of last week in regard to his daughter, Phoebe Willemina Gossimer Neith. The young Neith was expelled from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry on Friday as well as arrested. While the details of her case remained sealed as the young Neith is not yet of age, unconfirmed reports of the incident that resulted in her expulsion and subsequent detention have claimed of severe spell damage, magical larceny, and a vicious attack on another student. The identities of others involved in the incident- victims and/or accomplices- have not yet been identified, but no formal action has been taken against any other students and no statement has been released by the school."

"Well, thank Merlin for that," Harry muttered. They all turned to look at him. "The last thing I need is my name in the paper- particularly as somebody's victim," he said disdainfully.

"Look who's 'glass half full' now," Remus said with a raised eyebrow.

"I didn't know Neith's dad worked for the Ministry," Harry said, ignoring Remus' ribbing.

"Oh yeah- he was like, a huge deal," Milli told him. "Where do you think she got that lovely attitude? Daddy was an important man." She let out a mean sort of laugh.

"Especially since he worked in the Department of Mysteries," Gretta added. "I mean, any random Unspeakable has a certain level of clout, but to be second to the top? That's only a few steps away from the Minister himself."

"No wonder she was such a delight," Harry snorted. "She probably didn't think anyone would dare arrest her- let alone that the charges would stick. Huh. I guess there are still good cops. And I guess daddy's influence didn't quite extend all the way to Dumbledore."

"Our parents are gonna lose the plot when they see this," Haleigh said worriedly. "I'm sure we've all complained to them about how awful Neith is and how much she hates us."

"It's a good job mine don't read the Prophet then." Lily leaned back in her seat. "Good luck to the rest of you."

"You don't need luck," Harry pointed out. "Just tell them the truth. For one, the article was wrong- but I guess that's what you get when you go ahead and report hearsay," he said exasperatedly. "And none of you guys were actually involved in the incident. Just- please leave my name out of it if you do send any letters. Even private post isn't always secure and like I said- I'd really prefer to keep my name out of the papers."

Haleigh nodded in understanding before running off to snag a school owl before they were all taken. Peter quickly excused himself as well.

"Do you want to hear the rest of it?" Gretta asked those who remained.

"There's more?" Lily leaned in again.

"Yeah. It says, 'When asked about the incident in question, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster at Hogwarts said, 'Our students have a right to their privacy. The parents or guardians of every student directly involved have been notified accordingly and trust that swift action has been taken in response to this incident in accordance with the Hogwarts bylaws. The rest is a Ministry matter.' No further details were divulged besides the Headmaster confirming that young Neith was indeed officially expelled, which was already a matter of public record. As of yet, there is no date set for any trial for Ms. Neith, but we will keep our readers informed as the case develops. Starting today, Tagitha Schmint has been appointed Interim Undersecretary to the Head of the Department of Mysteries whilst interviews are conducted to find Neith senior's permanent replacement.'" Gretta lowered the paper so that it was resting on the edge of the table as she looked around at the others. "Damn- they're really rubbing salt in the wound, aren't they?"

Just as he made to nod along with the rest in response, a sudden flare of pain ignited across Harry's scar accompanied by a flash of anger that was not his own. He sucked in a sharp breath as his hand made to instinctively shoot up in some attempt to ease the pain, but it caught on the edge of the table, causing the silverware to jump and clatter into the nearby dishes, drawing everyone's attention.

"Are you okay?" Gretta asked as Harry shook out his hand, bringing the other one up to rub at his forehead instead.

"Yeah," he got out as his face scrunched up in pain. Harry could still feel the echoes of Voldemort's anger churning within him. He shivered. Merlin- it had been a while since that had happened. Not something so sharp and specific- it had really caught him off guard. In fact, things had been rather quiet on the alternate-Voldemort front in general recently. Well, it seemed that Harry's brief reprieve had come to a sudden and painful end.

Harry finally opened his eyes only to meet Lily's intense gaze. "You sure?" She asked worriedly.

"Yeah," Harry said with a small smile, bringing his hands down and away from his face. The burning had thankfully faded into a more tolerable prickling sensation that he was much more accustomed to dealing with- though Lily noted that the tension hadn't quite faded from around Harry's eyes. "That just- really smarted," Harry played it off, rubbing his wrist again.

Harry was almost glad for the distraction Charms provided. They were sitting their exam for the household charms unit and while Harry knew his head wasn't one hundred percent in it, he found the questions easy enough to get lost in that it served nicely to pass the time. Honestly, this whole 'not really caring about his grades' thing was quite liberating and in most classes his marks had not even suffered much with his shift in attitude. Not that he'd ever dare tell her, but Lily made a much more enjoyable study partner than Hermione ever did, so Harry found that he actually wanted to revise sometimes, rather than needing to be dragged, kicking and screaming into it.

Flitwick collected their written exams halfway through the period before beginning the practical portion of the test. Harry found sitting there waiting his turn to be a slightly less engaging activity, much to his disappointment. Flitwick had set up the front of the classroom to look like the crossestion of a small house complete with a kitchen, bedroom, and bath. He called people up one at a time and asked them to perform three random spells from the unit in turn. It almost looked like some absurdist stage play and Harry was soon passing the time by coming up with little plots around why each student was needing to fold the laundry, knit a sock, and unclog the toilet- or whatever their assigned tasks were.

As Remus began his portion by cleaning the window behind the table in the kitchen, Harry decided that he was doing so in order to keep an eye on his new neighbor across the way. He then moved on to sweeping the floor, which was obviously because now that the window was clean, he could see all of the dust floating around and settled on the floor. Finally, he cleaned the oven because he'd decided to bake some cookies in order to have a pretense to drop by the neighbor's house to better spy on them, but he still needed to impress, so the oven had to be cleaned before any baking could commence. Afterall, one cannot have last night's roast contaminating today's cookies- perish the thought!

When it came Harry's turn, he dutifully did the dishes and scrubbed the toilet and made the bed make itself. For once in his life he was pretty confident that he'd made full marks.

After lunch, the 6th year Gryffindors dragged their feet on the way to Defense. So far in the last week they had had a pretty piss poor track record when it came to their shared lessons with the Slytherins, so hopes were not high that this one would break the trend. Really, they would count it as a victory if nobody ended up in the hospital wing by the end of class.

As they walked into the room, Fortin was waiting by the door to collect everyone's wands. Harry was a little surprised to see that, for once, there were actual desks sat out in neat rows in the classroom. The Slytherins had arrived early and were already filling up half of the seats with those eerily blank expressions fixed in place. The Gryffindors shuffled in, taking up the remaining empty chairs.

As the last student slid into their seat, Fortin strode forward, right down the center aisle, her dark robes billowing behind her. When she reached the front of the class, she turned and surveyed them with a sharp gaze.

"Ideology," Fortin began, her voice ringing through the silent room. "The noble and fools die for it. The power hungry invent it. And the rest are expected to live by it. It is passed down and ingrained and taught and learned. It is systems and ideals and actions. It is the foundation from which we all grow, but no two people will ever start from or reach the same place." She paused, giving the class a hard look. "There are facts and there are beliefs. Immutable versus intangible. We can debate what is true, but not how one feels about it. The question is, where does one draw the line? No two people will ever perfectly agree on everything, but at what point do you stop engaging with a controversial topic? Do you cut someone out of your life for their beliefs? Do you make them your enemy? Do you overrule their right to live?" Fortin paused for a moment as her eyes swept the class once again.

"No one subscribes to an ideology that they don't think is right. That is what makes ideology so powerful- and dangerous. Both sides in an ideological war know down to their very core that they are in the right- that they are fighting 'the good fight'. These are the battles that have no survivors. I am not here to tell you what to believe. In fact, I'm sure I could stand up here and talk myself blue in the face and not sway a single soul. Change must come from within. No- it is my job to provide you with the tools necessary to defend yourselves. I want to see you survive long enough to grow. All of you. But in this class, I can only provide you with the facts. Your beliefs are between you and your god. But I do ask you to consider where your line is. For once you cross it, you are fighting to what end?" Fortin paused before warning, "Do not be blinded by an ideology that may not even be your own. It is human nature to want to have something worth fighting for. I will just caution you to remember that that thing may be all that you are left with- all that remains- when the smoke clears and the dust settles." There was a beat where Fortin's words hung heavy in the air.

"In this class, I have drawn that line for you. It has been drawn for you at this school and by the Ministry when you leave. But there will come a day when no one else is there to draw one for you and all you will be left with is your own personal line. And the most dangerous thing you can do is cross that line without conscious thought." Fortin then abruptly turned around and wrote on the backboard the words 'ideology', 'beliefs', and 'actions' with arrows pointing from left to right between them. "Consistency between one's ideology, one's beliefs, and one's actions is key. Contradiction breeds dissonance and a conflicted mind is not one that is functioning at its highest potential. Today, we will be having a discussion and everyone is expected to participate. Our discussion will primarily be focused on the 'actions' portion of the chain," Fortin underlined 'actions' on the board, "but I encourage you all to reflect on the other two parts as well in the context of your own ideologies and beliefs. Actions are something that we are all capable of, but whether or not we do them is informed by those items further upstream and where we draw our line. Pura-" The girl in question jumped slightly, not expecting to be so suddenly addressed. "Name an action, either offensive or defensive," Fortin commanded.

Pura looked a little panicked for a second before she sat up a little straighter in her chair and said, "Cursing someone?" She didn't sound very sure if her answer had been what the professor was looking for, but Fortin gave her a nod before turning around and drawing a long line across the entire board and putting a tick in the middle of it labeled 'cursing someone'.

"Evans- another action," Fortin called out, turning back and looking at Lily expectantly.

"Uhh- Hexing someone?" Lily offered, also sounding unsure.

"And is that better or worse than cursing someone?" Fortin asked.

"Better?" Lily said hesitantly. "Or at least not as bad."

"An interesting distinction to make," Fortin commented as she added a tick mark for 'hexing someone' to the left of the one for curses.

They went on like that for a while with Fotin calling on people randomly and having them add various actions to the continuum they were creating. When people started throwing out specific spells it led to a side debate about if there were some hexes that were worse than some curses which led to a blurring of the line between the two categories on the board. The ticks were switched to brackets that slightly overlapped with specific spells listed out within them. The same was then deemed true for jinxes and hexes.

When Peter mentioned the Unforgivables and told Fortin to place them all the way on the far right end of the spectrum, Harry couldn't stop the skeptical, "Really?" that slipped out of his mouth unbidden.

Fortin turned to him with a raised eyebrow. "Do you have a differing opinion, Mr. Doe?" Everyone was looking at Harry now with expressions ranging from mildly curious to incredulous.

"Uhh… I just think that I'd rather have someone try and Imperious me than murder me," he pointed out, motioning towards the word 'murder' that was already on the board. "At least that one you can throw off. And it also matters a lot what they intend to have you do. If they make you do a funny dance versus have you kill somebody there's a big difference. And even with something like the killing curse- there's something to be said for a quick death. I'd rank that one below something like being skinned alive, don't you think?"

Fortin erased the tick she had just added for the Unforgivables and turned them into another bracket. "How far down do you think it should go?" She asked Harry.

"I think it should match up with the beginning of the curses section," Harry shrugged. He one hundred percent believed that an Imperious in the right hands was better than a vicious hex in the wrong ones. "Technically they are curses after all."

Fortin did just that and then added a tick at the far right end labeled 'skinning someone alive' which made Harry smile.

They continued on for the rest of the class adding to their drawing. As they went on, there were more and more interjections, objections, and side debates leading to a more and more complicated product. Fortin ended up having to expand the chalkboard multiple times by the end of class in order to accommodate everything that they had discussed. By the time Fotin called the lesson to an end, their chart had about six tiers and brackets and asterisks with clarifications and squiggles that represented gray areas that they simply could not come to a consensus on. It looked a bit of a right mess. With a few waves of her wand, Fortin sent pieces of parchment flying through the air to settle on everyone's desks. Looking down, Harry saw it was a smaller copy of the final product from the board.

"Your homework," Fortin announced, "is to draw your line. You may adjust the rankings as you see fit before doing so if you disagree with the class consensus. I will not be collecting these, but I expect each and every one of you to complete the exercise," she warned. "Gather your things," Fortin said as she walked back down the aisle. "You will receive your wands back as you exit the classroom."

While they hung out in the common room waiting for dinner, Harry borrowed Remus' Transfiguration textbook again. He'd done the readings over the weekend, but he hadn't even started on the essay that was now due tomorrow for McGonagall. At that moment, Harry was slumped low over his parchment with his eyes screwed shut as he scrubbed at his face, letting out a deep sigh. This sucked. He really didn't care about the potential risks of epidermal transfiguration. His scar hadn't stopped prickling all day and by that point it had blossomed into a full-blown headache that was edging worryingly close to full-on migraine status. In truth, all he wanted at that moment was to go lay down. Unfortunately, that wasn't really an option unless he wanted to be nagged by everyone or just admit defeat and go to the hospital wing. So Harry did his best to pull himself together and muster on, but after another twenty minutes or so his vision began to blur to the point that he couldn't really read the words on the page in front of him.

Leaning back in his chair with a wince, Harry said, "I think I'm gonna turn in early," drawing the other's attention.

"Early?" James said incredulously. "It's not even six o'clock. We haven't even had dinner yet!"

"Yeah, well- I'm tired," Harry said, trying to rub the bleariness out of his eyes.

"Are you feeling okay?" Sirius said, leaning over with an outstretched hand as if to feel for a fever.

"Touch me and you'll lose that hand," Harry threatened, not even bothering to open his eyes, but effectively stopping Sirius in his tracks.

"Someone's cranky," James noted, earning himself a glare from Harry.

"It's just a headache," he sighed, slumping forward.

"Do you want us to bring you up some food?" Remus offered, trying to defuse things a bit.

Harry's insides squirmed uncomfortably at the very thought of food. "No," he said hurriedly. "-Thanks," he added, trying to sound more casual. "I'm just gonna go to sleep."

Harry closed the book in front of him and pushed it back over toward Remus before gathering up his ink, quill, and parchment and dragging himself to his feet. Once he was vertical, Harry paused for a moment as a spike of pain shot through his head and he was forced to close his eyes as the world settled around him. Once he was sure he was reasonably steady, Harry headed towards the stairs to the dormitory and the promised relief that was his bed.

Upstairs, Harry clumsily changed and then promptly collapsed onto his covers, curling up in a protective little ball. But sleep refused to come. Harry tossed and turned for what felt like hours, unable to get comfortable as the pressure mounted in his skull. Eventually, he couldn't take it any longer and Harry forced himself up. Grabbing his wand, Harry shuffled into the bathroom. Surveying the items scattered around the counter, he picked up a comb and transfigured it into a mug. Not fully trusting his transfiguration skills, Harry gave the mug a thorough washing before filling it up with water and throwing a Warming charm at it.

As he brought the steamy mug up, Harry took a few deep breaths, desperately trying to focus on nothing other than gentle, damp warmth that tickled his face. Taking a sip, Harry could almost convince himself that it was a lovely cup of tea in his hands as he let out a sigh. Harry leaned against the wall beside the counter and slid down to the floor, lacking the motivation just then to leave the blessedly dark little room. The fake cup of tea may not have actually helped Harry's headache at all, but it did help settle him. By the time his drink was nearing its end, he wasn't feeling nearly as antsy and some of the muscles in his back seemed to have started the slow process of gradually unwinding.

At some point the small part of Harry's brain that was still tuned into his surroundings acknowledged the sounds of his dormmates arriving back from dinner. He could hear a soft conversation going on out in the main room, but didn't trouble himself with the details of it.

There was a lessening of the darkness on the other side of his closed eyelids and Harry heard, "Shit- Bambi- Are you okay?"

Harry sensed movement. As someone drew close, he grunted, "Touch me and lose the hand," causing the nearby movement to stop.

Sirius- or at least Harry was pretty sure it was Sirius- sat back on his heels and frowned. Back in the doorway, the others lurked, taking in the scene. Harry was sitting cross legged on the floor, leaning against the far wall. His head was tipped back, resting against the stones behind him and his eyes were closed. He wasn't wearing his glasses. It was an oddly exposed position to find him in- usually when they found Harry places he was either curled up or at the very least had at least one knee drawn tightly to his chest. Perhaps it was a weird thought to have, but it struck them as almost odd seeing the other boy's neck laid bare. It was hard to tell if it was a position of relaxation or surrender.

They had all assumed him asleep- the cup held loosely in his lap threatening to slip from his lax grip at any moment- so everyone jumped when Harry's rough voice cut through the still air of the bathroom.

"I thought you were going to bed," Sirius commented, trying to get a read on the situation.

Harry shrugged, "Couldn't sleep."

"So you decided to have a cuppa in the lav?" Sirius asked in a slightly bemused tone. Harry just gave another apathetic shrug. "The furniture designed for sitting just wasn't doing it for you?" He asked with a raised brow that Harry could not see.

"'S dark in here," Harry admitted and there was a beat of silence.

"Mate- if it's that bad, maybe you should go see Pomfrey," James said worriedly from over by the door.

At that suggestion, Harry finally opened his eyes. Looking up, he narrowed his eyes in an attempt to make anything out in the murky darkness of the bathroom before leaning forward with a groan and cradling his head in his hands, spilling the last few sips in his mug without notice.

"Or we could go get her," Peter offered, almost hopefully.

"She can't fix everything," Harry mumbled. Pulling himself upright again to face the blurry blobs of his dormmates, Harry said, "I'd just be sleeping there versus sleeping here- and I'd rather sleep here."

"You're not sleeping here," Peter pointed out.

"I almost was before someone let the hippogriffs storm the Bastille," Harry retorted.

"So sorry we interrupted your tea party with the toilet," Sirius snorted. "Would you like us to leave you to your beauty sleep then? It really is a cozy spot that you've chosen," he said with an appraising look around at the dingy bathroom floor.

"If I agree to sleep in a real bed, will you agree to hold off on calling in the calvary?" Harry challenged.

"If memory serves," Sirius said thoughtfully, "I believe you formally lost your right to vote on such things."

"I'm not voting- I'm negotiating," Harry countered.

"Well, at least he's still with it enough to defeat Sirius in an argument," James commented to those by the door.

"Yeah, but how much does that really prove? I think we should send Moony in and see if his fancy semantics still stand," Peter said, throwing Sirius a smug smile.

"I think we should stop torturing him and let the man sleep," Remus interjected. He, of all people, could at the very least sympathize with wanting to sleep in your own bed rather than the hospital wing when you didn't feel great.

"May I?" Sirius asked, extending a hand out toward Harry. Given that the other boy had now threatened to cut the appendage off twice that evening, he was weary of getting it too close without express written permission.

With a huff, Harry accepted Sirius' help and got to his feet. He couldn't help the pinched expression that took over his face as the world tilted around him when he stood up, but Sirius' steady hand at his back helped ground him as his brain seemed to slosh nauseatingly with the movement. The others quickly got out of the way as Sirius guided Harry back to his bed.

"We should probably warn you-" James spoke up as Harry crawled under his sheets, "that it's best not to transform when you don't feel well. We learned the hard way that it's a lot harder to shift back when you feel like shite and it's just a recipe to get stuck."

"Noted," Harry grunted as he moved to pull his covers right over top of his head.

"Goodnight Bambi!" Sirius called out. "We'll try and keep our hippogriffing to a minimum when we turn in later."

Harry snorted as he heard the dormitory door close.

Sun beat down on Harry's neck as he stooped low over the manicured beds of number four, Privet Drive. Sweat ran down his face, dripping off the end of his nose in great drops that watered the finicky plants below him.

"Just because you opted to go gallivanting through time does not mean you are excused from your chores, boy!" Vernon Dursley's spit mingled with Harry's sweat as he barked his orders.

And Harry was trying. This was the last thing left on his list and then he would be all caught up on all of the work he had missed. But really, the problem was the snakes.

They were everywhere, teeming in the beds, making it really hard to see where the weeds were. Every year when Harry first returns for the summer the grass has inevitably begun to invade the beds, so he knew that there had to be more weeds than what he had already pulled- he'd been gone for decades, after all- but he just couldn't find them.

The snakes hissed and laughed at him. A few tried to give him advice or tell him about their days or complain about the traffic, but their voices were getting all jumbled together and the cacophony was giving Harry a headache. He didn't dare risk telling them to shut up or move aside with Uncle Vernon and his beady eyes looming over him and inspecting his work. Such 'funny business' would not be tolerated and Harry really didn't want to blow things when he was so close to being finished.

Leaning back to wipe away the sweat that was threatening to drip onto his glasses, Harry looked up and found himself not outside in the garden of number four, Privet Drive, but rather in a large hall constructed of dark, roughly hewn stone. People he didn't recognize- lots of people- were gathered, standing around in front of him, some of them mingling amongst themselves while others seemed to be looking at him expectantly- eagerly.

"Order!" Harry called in a voice not his own. One that sent shivers down his spine and drew immediate silence in the large room. "We have business that needs attending to so that we may get on to less- boring matters." Harry's eyes swept the room, taking in the crowds' wrapped attention, pausing longer than strictly necessary just to savor it that much more. He got up and made his way around the ornate table he was sitting at, coming to lean almost casually against the front of it. "Tonight, a new face!" Harry raised his arm, gesturing dramatically at a doorway at the front of the hall off to his left.

From the shadows emerged a sickeningly familiar figure. Neith strode in with confidence in every step. She had an insufferably smug look on her face as she tossed her shiny hair back, barely sparing a glance towards the crowd and daring to make eye contact with Harry. Ahh, the hubris of youth.

"And some not so new," he added as two more figures entered behind Neith. The man was tall and thin, but looked extremely put together in deep mahogany robes clasped with an expensive looking chain. His face was a blank mask, completely devoid of emotion or expression. Beside him walked a woman. Her dark hair was intricately interwoven with chains matching those on the man's robes. It was the kind of styling that looked both effortless and like it must have taken hours to achieve. She walked with her nose just the slightest bit in the air though her face too lacked any substantial expression. Unlike the man, whose eyes were dull, her gaze seemed to cut like ice.

Harry raised his hand once again, this time halting the newcomers' progress so that they took up a spot stage left. Neith finally turned to face the onlookers with that look of superiority still firmly affixed on her face. The woman merely clasped her arms behind her back and stood at attention while the man bowed his head.

"You have come to us early, my dear," Harry purred and Neith's eyes seemed to glow even brighter. "Caused a little trouble, have we?" He asked in a lightly teasing tone, letting out a small chuckle that clashed eerily with the stoney look in his eyes. But at his words, Neith outright smiled, pride seeming to ooze out of her. "Hoped I'd notice?" Harry tilted his head in question. "And yet your father-" his voice turned arctic cold, "seemed to think he could hide from me. Hoped I wouldn't notice." The woman- presumably Neith's mother- couldn't keep the sneer completely off of her lips as she glanced sideways at her husband in disgust. "You cannot hide from your Lord." His last words were directed toward the room at large.

The man stooped his head lower, but did not try and defend himself. He was likely a smart man who knew such things were futile.

"Years- decades- a lifetime's worth of work, burned," Harry said passionately, looking at the Neiths imploringly before turning and facing the crowd. "But I hope that we can take this day as a lesson. We must learn from our mistakes- and the mistakes of others- so that they may never hinder us again."

And then, almost lazily, Harry waved his wand towards the girl in front of him. "Avada kedavra."

Neith senior's head shot up just as his daughter's body crumpled to the floor and his eyes were filled with a terror and grief that Harry knew all too well.

"No!"

The cry rang through the dorm and everyone woke with a start. Then there was a noise somewhere between a gasp and a strangled sob that got them moving.

Knowing better than to muck around with it when everybody was already up, Remus flicked his wand and threw the whole dormitory into harsh illumination. All eyes fell on Harry, who seemed to be trying to claw his way out of his bed, his breaths coming in heaving gasps.

James reached him first and threw caution to the wind and just grabbed his arms in an attempt to still their frantic motions. "Harry! It's okay. You're awake. You're okay." James tried to speak in a soothing tone, but his voice shook a little as the frantic words came out.

"No!" Harry fought him, trying to throw James off. "God- He killed her! He-" But then Harry's eyes seemed to roll back into his head and he collapsed like a ragdoll against James and began shaking.

"Peter- go get Pomfrey! Now!" James commanded. In the next blink, Peter was gone and Wormtail was sprinting off, squeezing himself through the crack in the door.

As Harry snapped awake, he was haunted by the ghost of Neith senior's eyes. He needed to go. He needed to move. He needed to get away from what he'd just witnessed. He needed to tell someone what just happened. And then James was there, holding him down and Harry needed him to understand. He needed him to get out of his way.

But then his scar gave an almighty throb and he was falling. And then he was struck by lightning. His nerves were on fire and Harry knew nothing but pain.

His next conscious thought was of his disdain for the pitious man huddled at his feet. Fastidious mahogany robes now lay twisted around their wearer as if trying to strangle him.

"Perhaps without such distractions, you'll do a little better this time around," Harry said coldly. "No one lives to disappoint Lord Voldemort twice." The threat hung in the air. "Her mistakes were inevitable," he said with a careless gesture towards Neith's body. "Do not let yours be so," he warned. "Your wife knew when to cut the dead weight- it would be wise to listen to her more often."

"How could you?" The man whispered brokenly, looking not at his torturer, but at his wife. "She was your daughter!"

The woman did not even spare him a glance. "No daughter of mine would be so stupid. I have no daughter." Then she bent down and pulled a delicate ring off of Neith's finger before stepping over her body and leaving the room.

"Your wife is still young," Harry said mildly. "With these lessons learned, you can always try again. Crucio."

Pomfrey and Peter flooed directly into Gryffindor tower before hastily making their way up the stairs to the boys' dormitory. Pushing open the door, they found Remus, Sirius, and James huddled around Harry where he laid on the floor, trembling. The three boys looked up with varying degrees of panic and relief in their eyes when they saw Madam Pomfrey sweep into the room.

"What happened?" She asked briskly, dropping to her knees and taking up James' spot beside Harry as he skittered out of the way.

Peter had come huffing and puffing into her wing, waking up all of the patients as he banged on her office door, which alerted the matron that her presence was being requested. He'd only managed to get out, "Harry… Dorms… Bad… Really bad…" Through heaving breaths before she'd ushered him into her office, snatched up her bag, and headed straight for the fire.

"A nightmare," James said breathily. "Or at least, it was a nightmare. But he woke up- he was trying to say something- and he just, collapsed. He's been like this since- we couldn't wake him up."

Once again, Harry was soaking wet, but this time the water didn't seem to have done the job. He was shaking and twitching, but it didn't seem to be purely from the cold. There was something unnatural about the movement that made it distinct from a normal shiver. His breathing was harsh as he threw his head from side to side as if trying to escape something, but at the same time unable to move.

"Rennervate!" Pomfrey tried to no effect. She cast a few diagnostic charms and got the same unsatisfying result she seemed to every time with Harry- that nothing was actually wrong with him despite all of the evidence to the contrary. With a weary sigh, she dried him off. No use letting the boy get hypothermic while they waited for whatever this was to pass. Pomfrey ran a hand over his clammy face and as she brushed his hair back, she noted just how angry the scar on his forehead looked. Red and inflamed, it seemed to be radiating its own heat that sent a chill down her spine. There were undeniably some very dark magics at play.

As they watched Harry writhe, James looked as though he was about to lose it. He wanted to scream at the matron to do something! Everyone kept telling them to get an adult when shit like this happened, but now they had and she wasn't doing anything! Pomfrey just watched on with sad eyes like the rest of them and James had half a mind to shove her out of the way and reclaim his spot.

And then suddenly, Harry went limp. James had thought watching him thrash about was terrifying until the moment he stopped. All motion ceased and for a beat too long, it looked as though that had included Harry's breathing.

"Harry?" Pomfrey called out gently, leaning over to evaluate the sudden change.

Harry's face had gone from screwed up to lax and now that his head was not tossing and turning, she could see fresh tears mixing with the cold sweat on his face.

"Harry?" She tried again, a little louder this time. "Can you hear me?"

To everyone's surprise, Harry shook his head. It was an odd response, because the negative answer would imply that he had indeed heard the question. Was it just a coincidence?

"Can you open your eyes for me?"

Again, Harry shook his head.

"Come on, Harry…" Pomfrey coaxed as she reached a hand out toward his arm.

But the second she made contact, Harry wrenched himself away and in the next blink, he was gone. Heads turned to find him huddled beneath the nearby window with his knees drawn up protectively to his chest as trembling arms did their best to pull them in even closer. Haunting- no, haunted- green eyes darted around the room, attempting to reconcile the blurry shapes with fragments of memory.

After a few long seconds of quiet staring wherein everyone was afraid to do more than breathe, Harry felt something cold bump into the back of his hand. Looking down with a start, he found his glasses floating just in front of him. He slowly reached out a shaky hand and fumbled them onto his face.

"Thanks," Harry said in a quiet, raspy voice, finally able to properly take in the scene before him.

Everyone had remained frozen where they were when Harry had woken up. Pomfrey was still crouched on the floor, one hand hovering out in front of her over nothing, even as she was turned to the side staring at Harry. Remus was across from her, his wand resting nervously in his lap. Peter and Sirius were behind him, standing with their weight not quite settled as if they were ready to bolt any second. And James seemed to have halted midway through taking a step towards Harry. His mouth was open, but there were no words on his lips.

Harry brought a hand up to wipe his face, but when his first attempt was unsuccessful, he opted to scrub at it with his shirt instead. His neck twitched, causing his head to smack into the stones behind him and many sympathetic winces around the room. A few seconds later, his shoulder twitched, causing him to jump slightly and bang his head on the windowsill above him.

"Why don't you move away from the wall, yeah?" Sirius suggested with the ghost of a playful smile tugging at his lips. "No use giving yourself a concussion on top of all the other shit," he added helpfully.

Harry shot him a weak glare, but made no move to comply with the suggestion. He didn't really feel like moving right then, actually.

With a sigh, Sirius walked over and crouched down by Harry, just off to one side. "Come on, Bambi," he said placatingly as he moved to pull Harry forward.

"Don't touch me," Harry snapped. The words came out harshly and without conscious thought, but effectively stopped Sirius in his tracks. The hand he was reaching with quickly turned palm up in surrender. Harry wasn't quite sure why he said it, but the conviction was real all the same. His skin prickled uncomfortably, but in a way that was not fully attributable to the lingering effects of the Cruciatus curse. He felt dirty. He didn't want to contaminate anyone else- he would have sworn he could feel the blood on his hands.

Looking down at the offending items, Harry quickly tucked them around his body and curled in a little tighter, bringing his head down to rest on his knees. He took a few deep breaths through his nose in an attempt to stave off more thoughts he didn't need rattling around in his head at that moment.

"Are you going to be sick?" Pomfrey asked urgently.

"No," Harry croaked, but he refused to look up, which was not exactly reassuring.

"Was it…" But Pomfrey wasn't really sure how to finish her question without betraying Harry's trust.

The half question seemed to be enough though as it got Harry to finally look at her. The grief in his eyes felt so heavy it could topple her over, but it was his next words that nearly stopped her heart.

"I killed her," he whispered, but everyone heard it as the words seemed to echo around the room. Harry's voice held such remorse that it made Pomfrey's chest hurt.

"Who?" Sirius asked softly, his hand reaching out once again, but stopping just shy of making contact. Harry didn't respond. He didn't look at him. It was as if he hadn't even heard the question.

"I- I-" Harry choked as James cut him off.

"He killed her," he said emphatically, taking a step forward. "That was the first thing you said when you woke up- 'He killed her.'" But Harry was already shaking his head.

"Killed who?" Sirius asked again, but Harry was solely focused on James.

"That's what you said," he insisted. "And it looked like you were too busy being tortured to be doing much killing," James added bitingly.

"That was after," Harry said, still shaking his head, not even bothering to deny it.

"Who was 'he'?" James pressed.

"No. I-"

"No! You didn't!"

"How would you know?!" Harry snapped. "You weren't there! You don't even know what we're talking about!"

"Then tell me!"

"Mr. Potter!" Pomfrey interjected harshly, seeing how Harry's breathing had gone erratic once again.

Deep-seated instinct kicked in and Harry's head snapped up at the name that was no longer his. Something twisted painfully in his chest as he watched Pomfrey shoot a warning look towards James. Harry forced himself to take a few stuttering, calming breaths. He was Harry Doe, he forced himself to remember. And they were already long dead.

Finally capturing Harry's gaze, once again Sirius gently asked, "Who?" He could see the exact moment that something within Harry crumbled.

"Neith," he whispered brokenly. "I- He- killed Neith."

Now that- that had not been what anyone was expecting. Brows creased in new-found concern and troubled looks were exchanged around the room. Another muscle twitched in Harry's back and he gave another jerk.

Pomfrey's eyes held nothing but sorrow. Of all of the people in that room, she was the one who knew that Harry's words were, in all likelihood, true. In that moment, she mourned the life of one student while she mourned the innocence of the other who had to watch it end. Not that Harry had much of that left to spare…

"What?" James' voice rang through the dormitory, heavy with the confusion that everyone felt. "What do you mean-" But Harry was already shaking his head again, his eyes screwed up tight.

"That's enough," Pomfrey said with finality, cutting off the burgeoning interrogation before it could really begin. "Would you four please mind stepping out into the hall and giving us some privacy?" She asked politely, even though it wasn't a request.

Slowly- hesitantly- the other boys complied. Peter almost looked relieved at the excuse to escape the stifling atmosphere of the room while James and Sirius looked torn about both leaving Harry behind and not getting any answers. Remus remained as stoic as ever, though his halting movements as he finally moved to leave betrayed his inner conflict.

Once the door was properly shut, Pomfrey cast a privacy ward just to be safe. "Harry," Pomfrey spoke evenly. "Can you please look at me?"

Slowly, Harry drew his gaze up, facing the matron once again. This time, he just looked tired and his eyes held nothing but weary resignation.

"I'm sorry." The words slipped out in a moment of unguarded honesty that Pomfrey neither intended nor regretted. The statement hung in the air for a beat before Pomfrey cleared her throat and went on, "Does anything hurt?"

Harry shook his head, but at Pomfrey's skeptical look as her eyes ran critically over his still trembling form, he told her, "Really- it's just the after effects." With a small, wry smile flickering across his lips, Harry added, "Would you believe me if I told you that I actually feel better now than I did all evening? I had the worst headache earlier- it's kind of a relief that it's gone, even though it kind of sucked getting rid of it." He let out a shaky laugh.

Pomfrey just pursed her lips at that statement.

In truth, at that point Harry was almost lightheaded with Voldemort's smug satisfaction still echoing around somewhere in his chest. The bastard was quite pleased with how well he'd made his point.

"You didn't have to kick them out," Harry said quietly as his face fell into something more neutral. "It is their room after all."

"It's your room too, Harry," Pomfrey reminded him gently. "Besides- for all of the long nights and headaches that lot has caused over the years, they can sleep in the common room for the rest of the term for all I care," she told Harry in a faux-serious tone. Harry mustered up a half smile for the exasperated mediwitch. They sat in silence for a minute before Pomfrey asked, "Is there anything that would help right now?"

Harry sighed as his leg twitched. "Honestly, I just want a shower."

"That, at least, I can provide," Pomfrey smiled. "Do you think you can walk?"

Harry looked at Pomfrey with doleful eyes. "Are you really gonna drag me to the hospital wing?"

"Would you rather I leave and send your roommates back in?" She asked shrewdly.

Harry closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. Because, No, he really wouldn't. Harry just wasn't up to fielding the onslaught of hovering and questions that were sure to come shoving through the door as soon as Pomfrey opened it. He honestly wasn't sure he was with it enough to not slip up and potentially blow his cover. "Can we just- wait a minute?"

Pomfrey's expression softened. "Of course."

After Harry involuntarily smacked his head on the wall for a third time, Pomfrey summoned a pillow from one of the beds and slipped it behind him, but did not push him to move or get up. After a few more minutes, Harry slowly began to uncurl himself, taking care to stretch out his trembling limbs. Wiping his shaky hands on his jumper, Harry finally said, "Okay."

Pomfrey carefully helped him to his feet. As they made their way towards the door, Harry grabbed the sweatshirt that was hanging on the back of his desk chair in an attempt to help lessen the shivering, even though he knew it wasn't actually from the cold. Surprisingly, as they opened the door the pair were not rushed by the other boys. In fact, they were nowhere to be seen in the hallway. As they rounded the corner to the stairs, Harry could just make out the sound of voices filtering up from the common room. As Pomfrey started down the first step, a hush seemed to fall over the room below. Their progress was slow, but eventually they reached the bottom and Harry saw his doormates crowded around one of the low tables by the smoldering remains of the fire. Peter was passed out in one of the overstuffed armchairs while the other three appeared to be the epitome of 'try and act natural'. That is to say, very much not acting natural. James and Sirius were both sitting all the way back on the couch with their arms draped over the back in a way that no one ever actually sat- let alone two people on the same couch. Remus was on the floor with his back up against Peter's chair, but he looked as though he couldn't figure out what to do with his hands and for some reason he had opted to place them both face down on the table in front of him- you know, like a normal person would do. Not.

Merlin. For how well Harry knew this lot could act, they sure were not pulling it off very well right then. Peter was the only believable one out of the lot, and Harry was pretty sure that was because he was genuinely asleep.

"You boys should head back up to bed," Pomfrey instructed as they drew nearer. When Sirius opened his mouth, Pomfrey cut him off before he could even begin. "You can come visit Harry tomorrow after lessons if he still hasn't been released by then." Harry threw the matron a glare at the implication that he might not be released come morning. "And don't forget Mr. Pettigrew," she added over her shoulder as they reached the portrait hole. "Sleeping like that isn't good for his neck."

When they finally reached the hospital wing, Pomfrey issued Harry a towel and allowed him to shower. Harry felt like he couldn't get the water hot enough. That sticky feeling of contamination was still coating his skin- somehow water resistant it seemed. No amount of soap or scrubbing helped. Eventually, Harry gave up and just stood under the scorching stream, concentrating on the rivulets of water as they snaked their way down his back. But his muscles refused to relax. Tipping his head up to face the spray, Harry closed his eyes as focused on the new sensation. Hot tears ran down his face- Wait- No. Harry shook his head, spattering the walls with more spray as he snapped his eyes open. Blinking hard, Harry chased away the ghost of Neith senior's tortured face.

As he stared at the wet ground, Harry couldn't help but recall how Neith's body had silently crumpled onto the unforgiving stones- that self-righteous smirk still fixed in place. And then the image of Mr. Wesley, limp and bloody, took her place before shrinking into the body of a young goblin. The water raining down seemed to turn thick as it smothered Harry. The heavy air was suffocating. He quickly fumbled with the taps to cut the onslaught and hastily stepped out of the stall. Burying his face in the soft towel, Harry did his best to chase those images away.

A few minutes later, Harry emerged from the steamy bathroom redressed in his sleep clothes. After toweling off, Harry had noticed the neatly folded pair of hospital pajamas perched on the shelf, but he chose to ignore them, intending to claim ignorance if Pomfrey pressed the issue. He hoped she wouldn't. Despite their high quality, there was just something about the striped, hospital-issued pajamas that Harry hated. Donning them felt a little like admitting defeat. Like wilfully dressing in prisoner's garb.

Madame Pomfrey was waiting for him and beconned Harry over when he hesitantly made his way into the eerily silent wing. It was the middle of the night, after all.

"Feeling any better?" Pomfrey asked softly. Harry just shrugged, knowing any lie would be fruitless. The matron sighed and then turned, walking back towards her office, and beckoned Harry to follow.

Surprised that he hadn't just be directed to the nearest empty bed and told to sleep, Harry hesitated before falling into step behind her, a bit wary of the mediwitch's motives. Once they had entered the office, the door swung closed behind them, causing Harry's nerves to fray just that much more.

"Have a seat," she told him, motioning towards the couch and armchair that seemed to have replaced the usual straight-backed chairs across from her desk. A small table sat between them that had two steaming cups on it. Cautiously, Harry went over and took up a spot in the corner of the couch, taking care to kick his trainers off before drawing his knees up and peering at the matron suspiciously over them. "You don't need to look at me like that, young man," Pomfrey said, in a slightly exasperated tone. "I am not about to pounce." Harry, however, did not relax, even as Pomfrey settled herself comfortably in the nearby armchair. "I simply figured asking if you wanted to sleep would be a waste of both of our time. I thought perhaps a game might help pass the time, if you'd like?"

Harry's eyebrows shot up almost comically. "A- game?" He stuttered, finally giving Pomfrey the satisfaction of a verbal response.

"Have you ever played Wizarding Draughts?" She asked, summoning a board from a cabinet at the back of the room with a flick of her wand.

"Erh- No. I've played English Draughts, if it's similar?" Harry offered.

"Quite. Just like with Wizard's and muggle chess, the base gameplay is virtually identical, but the pieces are commanded across the board, rather than manually manipulated. I do have chess as well, if you'd prefer- though I should warn you that I never did acquire any real taste for the game, so the competition would be quite flat."

Harry shook his head. "I'm rubbish at chess. I don't like thinking more than two moves ahead," he admitted with a faint, self-deprecating smile.

"Somehow, that doesn't surprise me," Pomfrey said, teasingly returning the look.

With another wave of her wand, the pieces arranged themselves on the board and Harry was surprised to see that every one of them was a different color as they shuffled around into their starting positions, creating a sort of rainbow in front of him. Interestingly, since the colors were all over the place, the two sides of the board seemed to be square pieces versus round rather than dark versus light.

"The goal of the game remains to capture all of your opponent's pieces by jumping over them. Pieces can only move forward until they reach the far side of the board, where they will be 'crowned', and then the royal pieces can move as they please. To move a piece, simply call out its color and the space you want to direct it to. I also prefer how the pieces in this game do not talk back as they often do in chess," Pomfrey told him wryly.

Pulling his eyes up from the distractingly colorful board, Harry said, "You don't have to do this, ma'am," blushing faintly as he looked at Pomfrey before quickly looking away. "I'm sure you were asleep before you were pulled away. I'll be fine- you should go back to bed. It's the middle of the night. You have plenty of patients you need to be well rested to care for."

"Never you mind how I choose to spend my nights," she chastised gently. "I would hope you trusted me to properly manage my duties."

Horrified that it had come out that way, Harry scrambled to amend his statement. "No! I never meant- I didn't-"

Pomfrey held up a soothing hand. "Relax, Harry. I know you meant no harm in it. I merely wished to point out that that simply need not be a concern of yours presently. Let us focus on right now and we will face tomorrow when it comes, yes?" She gave Harry a knowing look. "And I have a feeling that tomorrow will be a trying day irregardless of how much sleep is had tonight," Pomfrey sighed. Harry continued to stare at the floor. "It's your move first, Harry," she prompted after a short stretch.

Harry started slightly, struggling for a second to pull himself out of his spiraling thoughts as he attempted to focus on the game board beside him. "Dark green to C3," he said quietly.

Madam Pomfrey sipped her tea as she contemplated her first move. Looking for something to do with his hands, Harry reached out for his own mug. The tremors had yet to fully subside, so he quickly brought the cup to rest against his legs, stabilizing the sloshing liquid. Harry had to stifle a snort when he saw that the mug contained hot chocolate rather than tea. He found himself feeling a mix of childish and grateful as he took a sip, letting his eyes fall closed as the drink seemed to burn its way down his throat in the best possible way.

"Lavender to E3."

Harry opened his eyes once again and refocused on the board. "Orange to E3." He didn't really have a plan, but if he lost, it wasn't like it really mattered. His draughts prowess wasn't exactly something he considered a fundamental part of who he was. And the quiet atmosphere of the transformed office gave the whole activity an air of secrecy- like in the morning, everything would be set to rights and no one would be the wiser that this moment ever occurred. His victory or failure- it only existed there and then.

It was hard to tell how fast time was passing under the dim lights of the office, but somewhere around their fourth match, Harry started to drift. He hadn't even realized that his eyes had closed until he was startled awake by the bright flash of green that streaked across the back of his eyelids. He started so badly that the- thankfully empty- mug tumbled to the floor.

Jumping up, Harry scrambled to recover it, praying that the porcelain hadn't broken in the fall. "Sorry- I'm sorry-" the words slipped out of his mouth as he reached his arm underneath the couch, sweeping it around in a blind, panicky search.

Harry flinched when someone's hand settled on his back, causing him to pause long enough to hear his name being spoken gently over the frantic beating of his own heart. Once she saw that she had finally gotten his attention, Pomfrey summoned the cup out from under the couch and set it on the table beside where they were crouched.

"Sorry," Harry whispered again, briefly looking up at Pomfrey before averting his eyes once again to the ground.

Pomfrey gave him a sad smile. "It's okay, Harry. No harm done," she told him kindly. "It's okay to drop things and it's okay to fall asleep," she added, covering her bases since, knowing Harry, the boy could have very well been apologizing for either- or both.

"I don't want to fall asleep."

Pomfrey let out a small sigh. "I know." At that, Harry looked up, a bit surprised by her response. "But at some point you are going to have to."

"I know." Harry let out a sigh of his own. "But that doesn't mean that I want to," he said dejectedly. There was a moment of silence that hung in the air. "I hate it," Harry said suddenly. "I hate being like this. I'm exhausted, but for me, sleep doesn't mean rest. It's a roll of the dice when I close my eyes of if I'm going to dream of daffodils or be tortured or watch someone die. It's like you're starving, but the only food around is poisoned. Or you're drowning and someone who wants to kill you is the only person throwing you a rope. Damned if you do and damned if you don't. At least this way the consequences are predictable- at least I'm in control."

"But you can't just let yourself drown," Pomfrey reminded him gently. Straightening up, she offered Harry a hand. Hesitantly, he took it and allowed himself to be guided off the ground and back onto the couch. "There's a reason you should never go swimming alone."

"Why should I drag someone else down with me?"

"Why can't they lift you up instead?"

"Because I'm tied to a cinderblock of a psychopath." It came out much more bitterly than Harry had intended.

"Perhaps," Pomfrey began slowly, carefully considering her words, "if I understood more about what was happening, then I could offer some more useful aid." As Harry held his silence, Pomfrey decided to just take a stab and see where it got her. "Was it more 'particularly sick shit'?"

The shock alone of hearing those words come out of the usually so proper and professional matron drew Harry back in and left him staring at her with wide eyes. And then he cracked a tiny smile and let out a snort, which Pomfrey counted as a victory. But then Harry was shaking his head as the moment of mirth seemed to drain away.

"It's not even that- It wasn't even that bad-" The words halted as Harry struggled to figure out what he was trying to say. "I mean, it's never sunshine and unicorns when someone is throwing around unforgivables, but this wasn't anything like with the goblins…" Harry seemed to lose his train of thought for a minute before shaking himself out of it and getting back on track. "Her life meant nothing to him. He threw it away without even a backwards glance at the body- just to emphasize a point he was trying to make. And she wanted to join them! At least with the others, I could rationalize what happened- however awful it was. Inflict pain on your enemy, kill them. That's war. But to do it to your own people? To your family? Her own mother offered her up for slaughter! How could she do that?!" His words had started quietly, but by the end, Harry was practically spitting them out.

"Something need not be obscene to be horrifying- or 'sick'," Pomfrey said after taking a second to gather herself after Harry finished talking.

"I watched her dad watch her die," Harry said softly. "I don't think he even realized that he made a mistake-" It was a bit of a non sequitur. "Her father loved her and he took away what the man was fighting for. You could see it on his face- in the way the light died in his eyes. But that psycho is so fucked in the head that he couldn't even fathom such a thing. He'd have to know love to understand true loss and the impact it can have. There are plenty of pains that potions can't get rid of, but the pain of a Cruciatis wears off a lot quicker than the pain of losing someone you love. I hope that little oversight really bites him in the ass."

Lily's stomach clenched uncomfortably when she saw the guys slink into the Great Hall Thursday morning. Their pale, pinched faces were a stark deviation from the chipper Remus and his begrudging friends who had strode up to the table the day before. When she noticed that they were sans Harry, Lily fully pushed her food away as her increasing anxiety chased away any thoughts of hunger.

As they quietly settled around the girls, Sirius planted his elbows heavily on the table, leaning forward to rub his face with his hands. Before anyone was brave enough to ask, he told them, "Long night. Harry had a really bad nightmare-episode-thing… We really need to find a better term for whatever those are," he added as a side note, glancing over at James, before going on, "Bad to the point that we went and got Pomfrey. But he was up and talking and left with her under his own steam, so I'm sure he'll be back and brushing it under the rug by the end of lunch." He let out a long breath through his nose before shaking his head and sitting up straighter. "How was your night?" He asked overly cheerfully with a big, fake smile.

"A lot better than yours," Milli snorted, receiving nods of agreement from the other girls.

"Congrats," Sirius said, flashing her an enthusiastic double thumbs up.

They settled into a slightly awkward silence as everyone pushed food around their plates, no one really in the mood to eat. Eventually, the stilted atmosphere was broken by the morning post flooding in. A large barn owl landed in front of Haleigh, presumably carrying her parents' reply to her hasty letter of appeasement she had sent off the previous morning. She looked rather apprehensive as she carefully retrieved the letter and offered the bird a whole piece of toast, which it happily accepted. Gretta's usual owl barely paused long enough to deposit her copy of the Daily Prophet in her general vicinity before swooping away to make more deliveries, apparently on too tight a schedule that day to stop for a snack.

Gretta leaned across the table to grab up her paper and began to peruse the headlines. A minute or two after she had disappeared behind the paper, Gretta let out a gasp.

"Nieth's dead!"

There was a clatter of dropped silverware and she looked up at the sound to find all four guys' wide-eyed, panicked faces staring back at her.

"Wh- What?" James barely managed to get the word out.

"There's just a short follow up to yesterday's article and a brief statement from her parents. It- It sounds like she killed herself…" Gretta seemed to lose steam as her eyes read and reread the words before looking up, unsure how to feel about or process what she was seeing.

"What does it say?" Lily was the only one brave enough to ask.

Gretta read out the copy in a monotone voice. "A shocking and tragic update to yesterday's article regarding Richard Neith's demotion within the Department of Mysteries and his daughter's, Phoebe Neith's, troubles. The young Neith passed away last night. The Neith family provided the comment below. No public memorial services will be held." She paused to take a breath before continuing, "It saddens us to announce the loss of a capable, young witch. Shame is a difficult thing to live with and we just hope that she has found peace. Please respect our family's privacy during this difficult time."

A heavy silence filled the air after Gretta finished reading.

"So he's a Merlin-damned seer now?!" Peter cried suddenly, only for James to hastily slap a hand over his mouth with a fierce glare while Sirius hissed, "Shut up!" and attempted to kick the boy under the table. At the same time, Milli asked, "What?" With a confused, but mildly suspicious expression.

Peter struggled in an attempt to throw James off. After a few more seconds of wrestling, James just up and dragged Peter off of the bench. "Not here," he whispered sharply into his ear before finally releasing his hand from over the other boy's mouth and then promptly turning and dragging him back towards the Entrance Hall. The others all scrambled to follow, snatching up bags and abandoning plates in their haste not to lose the pair in the sea of students milling about.

James steered them all the way to the abandoned classroom their little group had claimed on the first floor. Once inside, he finally released his grip on Peter, giving him a slightly rougher than necessary shove as he did so.

"What's your problem?" James almost yelled, feeling no need to be subtle now that they were well away from any prying eyes or ears. They had taken the time to ward the room with privacy spells around when Harry had started practicing with a vengeance earlier in the term.

"My problem?! What the hell is wrong with you?!" Peter snapped back.

"You can't go yelling shit like that in the Great Hall!"

"I didn't say it that loud…" Peter scoffed, though he did look a bit contrite, mixed in with his anger.

"Yes, you did," Sirius butt in, drawing both boys' attention to the fact that the rest of the Gryffindor 6th years had all followed them.

"Sorry… But you have to admit, it's kinda- freaky," Peter said more hesitantly.

"Okay- does someone want to clue the rest of us in?" Milli asked, clearly irritated.

All eyes naturally shifted to Remus, who took a deep breath, shaking his head at his nomination to have the honors of explaining. Nonetheless, he dutifully told them, "Last night, after Harry woke up, he told us that Neith was dead. But he was really upset and freaked out and wasn't making a lot of sense."

"He kept saying, 'I killed her'," Peter added, feeling like that was an important detail.

There was some time where no one spoke until Gretta said, "Kid needs to get his damn guilt complex under control…"

"No shit," Sirius snorted humorlessly.

"Do you think he really did?" Haleigh asked hesitantly, in a small voice.

James turned toward her with an incredulous expression. "How the bloody hell could he've?! He was asleep. In the dorm," he said emphatically.

"I meant see it. Not kill her," Haleigh clarified, shrinking back. "Merlin- I know there's no way he actually killed her," she said heatedly.

James brought a hand up to run roughly through his hair, taking a breath and a step back. "Sorry," he told her with an apologetic look, letting out a sigh. "I don't know," he admitted.

"It'd be one hell of a coincidence if not," Remus pointed out.

"Aren't seers supposed to see the future?" Gretta interjected.

"Yeah?" James said, confusedly.

"Well, if he had the dream last night and Neith died last night, then it very well couldn't have been a prophecy. Or at least- not a very helpful one," Gretta explained. "For all we know he had the dream after she died."

"What about his weird headache?" Peter pressed, still looking at James.

"What about it?" James pushed back while Gretta asked, "What 'weird headache'?"

"Harry just wasn't feeling well last night, remember?" Sirius explained, also not quite sure how that was relevant to their current discussion. "That's why he skipped dinner. He had a pretty nasty headache before he went to bed."

"I wonder if it is some kind of empathetic magic," Milli suggested thoughtfully, gaining a handful of dubious looks.

"That stuff is just a myth," Gretta dismissed with a shake of her head.

"How would you know?" Milli shot back with a raised eyebrow.

"How many empaths do you know?" Gretta asked skeptically.

"Rare doesn't mean mythical," Milli snipped.

"Yeah, but it doesn't mean likely now either, does it?"

"How many Parselmouths do you know?" Milli asked with a victorious gleam in her eye. "I'm just saying- a minute ago we were entertaining 'seer' as a possibility and those aren't exactly a knut a bushel, so we might as well keep our minds open to all of the possibilities."

"And it's still possible that it was just a coincidence," Lily pointed out.

Peter shook his head. "You weren't there- you didn't see it. He knew." He paused, wrapping his arms around himself almost protectively. "How did he know?" Peter asked with a shiver.

"I- I don't know," James admitted helplessly.

Harry awoke to bright sunlight streaming through the large, unfortunately familiar windows of the hospital wing. Thinking back, he wasn't quite sure when he actually managed to fall asleep the previous night and it was to his embarrassment that he distinctly did not recall making the journey from the matron's office to the bed he currently found himself occupying. At least he was still wearing his own pajamas and Pomfrey had not changed them out for the dreadful hospital issue ones while he was unawares. Harry was not sure how long he had been asleep, but it seemed to have been thankfully long enough to dispel any potentially lingering effects from his vision the night before.

Donning his glasses and looking around, Harry saw that a few of the other patients were sitting up in their beds, reading, working on homework, or else staring boredly at the walls around them. He caught sight of Madam Pomfrey bustling around a bed whose occupant was not currently conscious.

Sliding to the edge of the bed, Harry leaned forward towards the next occupied bed two to his left. The girl- he vaguely recognized her as one of the Hufflepuff chasers- sat with one arm in a sling and a quill in her mouth as she stared intently down at a bit of parchment in her lap.

"Excuse me," Harry whispered loudly, trying to catch the girl's attention, but not Pomfrey's. Once she looked over at him curiously, Harry asked, "Would you happen to have the time?"

The girl looked down at her injured arm and scowled before shaking her head and grabbing her wand off of the bedside table in order to cast a tempus. It read 11:23.

"Thank you." She gave Harry a nod before turning back to glower at her parchment.

"And where do you think you're going?" Pomfrey's unexpectedly close voice caused Harry to jump.

"Uh- lunch?" He tried.

She gave him a flat look. "I think not."

Harry sagged. "Are you going to keep me hostage all day?" He huffed, just this side of a whine.

"You've been awake not even five minutes," Pomfrey said exasperatedly. "Eat," she commanded, a tray appearing beside Harry with a wave of her wand. "Once you are finished we may begin negotiating the terms of your release."

"Fine," Harry sighed.

Pomfrey ran a keen eye over him as she asked, "I take it you are feeling okay? No lingering or new symptoms that I should be made aware of?"

"No ma'am," Harry said mulishly.

"Good. Presuming you can manage to keep it that way through the end of your meal, we will reconvene then." And with that, the matron turned on her heel and walked purposefully away to check on another patient.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry caught sight of the girl two beds down struggling to contain her laughter. "What?" He asked her with a furrowed brow.

"Nothing," she said as lightly as she could manage past her grin. "It's just- I've never heard Madam Pomfrey speak that way to a student."

"What- you mean she doesn't torture everyone?"

"No- she doesn't negotiate with anyone," she clarified.

Somehow Harry managed not to choke on his lunch or drown in his pumpkin juice and was able to bargain for his release from the matron's clutches within the hour. It may have been a new record. Pomfrey even lent Harry a spare robe to wear as he made his way up to Gryffindor tower to get properly changed. It was the middle of lunch by the time Harry was making his way through the halls, so thankfully there were very few people milling about to catch him out in his sleep clothes. By what felt like some miracle, given his track record, Auror Monroe did not make an appearance at any point in his journey.

Upon his arrival in the dorms, Harry made quick work of getting properly dressed. He said a quick hello to Pyrrhus as he grabbed the jumper off of his desk chair. As he straightened up, Harry paused there for a moment, staring down at his desk. There were a few books and bits of parchment and a quill or two scattered haphazardly across it. As Harry rolled up his half-finished Transfiguration essay and pocketed it, he couldn't help but feel like he was forgetting something. Without his rucksack or textbook or anything, it kind of felt like he was going to class naked. But as he really thought about it, Harry realized that it wasn't even worth it to bring anything to take notes on since his writing hand was still not up to snuff. So, Harry just grabbed his wand and began working on his apology to Professor McGonagall for the dismal attempt that he was about to attempt to pass off as his homework as he made his way back out of the dormitory.

The timing worked out almost perfectly so that Harry found himself at the top of the main stairs in the Entrance Hall just as lunch was winding down and the majority of students were leaving the Great Hall for their afternoon lessons. The rest of the 6th year Gryffindors had hung back a bit since the Transfiguration classroom was not terribly far from the Great Hall, but given how tenuous their current standing was with their Head of House, they were not willing to push it too long and risk being late for her class.

As they pushed their way through the small crowd dragging their feet around the doorway, Milli let out an unamused snort. "No shit Sirius- you should've taken formal bets," she said, jabbing the boy in question with an elbow before nodding towards Harry as he made his way down the stairs.

Looking over, Sirius just shook his head. "What can I say? He is nothing if not predictable- at least in this one respect. Bambi!" He called out, waving an arm to catch Harry's attention.

The other boy's head shot up and a small smile graced his lips as his eyes fell on the group of Gryffindors. "Hey," he greeted as he caught up with them.

"Hey," Lily said with a smile of her own. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine," Harry responded automatically, but at the derisive snort Sirius gave, he amended, "I mean- I feel okay?" It came out as more a question than statement as Harry glanced sideways at Sirius to see if that answer would be more sufficient.

"Closer," was all Sirius said, his tone somewhere between bemused and exasperated.

Harry rolled his eyes. Hey- at least he'd tried. "Come on- we can't be late for Transfiguration," he said instead of arguing with Sirius, setting off towards McGonagall's classroom. The others exchanged a few looks and shakes of the head before falling into step behind him.

Transfiguration was- uncomfortable. Harry couldn't really think of a better word to describe it. It wasn't quite the tense, oppressive atmosphere that had loomed over their last few lessons since everything had gone to shit that dreadful day in Potions. Instead, the air in the room seemed heavy and McGonagall's lecture lacked its usual crisp delivery. Even the Hufflepuffs were apparently not immune from whatever was in the air as many of them slumped low in their chairs, barely even attempting to look as though they were taking notes or even paying attention. And McGonagall hadn't bothered to reprimand them either.

Harry couldn't help but fidget slightly in his seat, unable to shake the disquieted feeling churning in the bottom of his stomach. It felt as though he had sat down in the wrong class or something- or like he had woken up in some kind of dower version of the Twilight Zone. As he glanced around, he saw that his friends appeared to be similarly affected and Harry wondered what he was missing. He'd only slept through one class- and that had been Potions with the Slytherins, so he didn't think anything that might have happened then would be affecting the Hufflepuffs so much as well as the Gryffindors in the room. Harry puzzled over this for the remainder of the lesson.

When McGonagall finally released them, Harry could not wait to get out of the room. He waited impatiently in the queue to hand in their homework, not even bothering with his excuse for his half-done essay as he hastily added it to the growing pile on the professor's desk. He quickly made his way out of the classroom, not pausing to lurk by the doorway and wait for the others, Harry headed down the short hallway and out into the small courtyard at the end. Taking a deep breath, Harry felt like his lungs were able to properly fill for the first time since he'd sat down in Transfiguration. Despite the fact that it was just barely above freezing out, Harry basked in the weak sunlight and fresh air. The bite of the cold on his skin seemed to cut through whatever had been clinging to it and attempting to smother him.

"Harry! Mate!" Someone called, causing Harry to open his eyes. Looking around, he saw that it was James who had spoken. He was making his way quickly over to Harry with Sirius, Remus, and Peter hot on his tail. Panting a bit as he caught up, James said, "Sorry- I was worried you were trying to give us the slip again." It came out a bit sheepishly.

"Oh, sorry," was all Harry could think to say. Clearing his throat, he added, "I just wanted to get a little air," motioning vaguely around the courtyard.

"Well, how about we go for a walk before dinner then?" Remus proposed.

Harry looked down, a touch of color creeping into his cheeks. "You don't have to-" but his sentence was cut off by a flurry of motion.

Black robes whipped around, obscuring Harry's vision for a moment. Remus was yanked backwards, his face twisted in pain as his right arm was wrenched behind him. Harry's wand was in his hand before he'd even registered what had happened.

"Ah-ah-ah," came a girl's sing-song voice from Harry's right. "Drop it, or I'll give him a scar worse than yours," she threatened, digging a wand into James' throat.

Looking around, Harry realized that they'd been ambushed. Beside James and the girl there was another boy Harry didn't recognize giving Sirius a very similar treatment. From the looks of them, the new pair were likely a couple of 7th year Sytherins that Harry had just not had the pleasure of meeting yet. Avery had Peter restrained just like how the other boy, who Harry now saw was Mulciber, had Remus held. Snape slipped into the little circle that they had created and extracted Remus' wand from his robe before turning it on its owner with a smug expression.

Seeing nothing for it, Harry reluctantly dropped his wand, taking care to toss it slightly behind him into the bushes rather than anywhere it could easily be reached or stepped on. He did not have a good feeling about where this was going and he did not want his wand to be added to the inevitable list of casualties.

"Not a complete idiot then," the girl said with a mock frown, exchanging a look with the boy beside her. "Pitty."

"You!" A girl shrieked and Harry whipped his head to his left to see an irate Rosamund stalking towards them. As she got close, though, Harry could see her tearstained, red face. "It's all your fault! It's your fault she's gone!" She fumed, closing in.

"She killed herself!" Another new voice shouted from behind Rosamund. The angry Slytherin turned to reveal Lily standing defiantly behind her, hands clenched tight at her sides.

Rosamund's eyes burned with fury and shame. "How dare you?!" She snapped, baring her teeth threateningly.

"We all read the paper, Reina," Sirius spat heatedly.

"What?" Harry asked confusedly, allowing himself to be sidetracked by this new course of events.

Looking over to Harry with a slightly surprised expression, Sirius told him in a low voice, "It was in the papers this morning- Neith committed suicide yesterday."

Harry's face fell suddenly blank as he processed Sirius' words. Turning toward the Slytherin with a critical eye, he asked, "Do you really believe that?" A stunned silence seemed to freeze the group following the simple question. As it dragged on, Harry added, "Because if so, then I wonder how well you really knew her."

Rosamund seemed to snap out of the trance and was seething. "What the bloody hell would you know?"

"What I know is that she didn't seem to be all that upset about leaving school. But I'm also not blind to reality and I don't choose to keep my head in the sand! She fucked up and caused your Dark Lord a serious headache when she got her father fired. Did you really think that that would go unpunished? She got a little too overzealous and was murdered for her trouble," Harry said adamantly.

"Don't speak-" She snapped, but Harry didn't let her finish the bland threat.

"Don't believe everything you read in the papers. And do try and use that thing between your shoulders to do more than sneer at people. If you really cared about Neith, you'd want justice and the truth. Not revenge- and certainly not on me. Merlin! She stole the wand. She broke probation. She attacked me. Hell- I didn't even turn her in! The aurors only knew the half of what she did. What she tried to do. She would've been relieved when she realized that I didn't write her a one-way ticket to Azkaban." Harry shook his head, turning earnest eyes on Rosamund once again. "I didn't read the paper, so I don't know what they said, but I wonder which is more likely… that she killed herself or that someone thought it would be easier if you thought she did?" Harry raised an eyebrow. "If you really cared about Neith you wouldn't willingly go groveling back to the man that slaughtered her and threw her aside without a second thought," he finished with a sweeping look around the group.

A crack echoed around the courtyard and Harry's face burned. While he'd had his head turned, Rosamund had closed the last few meters between herself and Harry in the blink of an eye, slapping him with a perfectly manicured hand.

Harry stumbled back half a step, blindsided by the slap. "Hitting me won't make it any less true."

Rosamund let out an almost inhuman sound somewhere between a shriek and a cry, closing the distance between her and Harry once again. She clawed at his face with long, sharp nails. Harry threw his arms up in an attempt to shield himself, but he made no move to retreat. There were fresh tears rolling angrily down Rosamund's face as she tore viciously at any exposed flesh she could find. Spittle and snot mixed and splattered with her heaving breaths.

There were shouts and hands pulling, but Harry couldn't make heads nor tails of any of it. Then, suddenly, he was pushed back by a strong, invisible force and went tumbling into the hedge.

"Enough!" McGonagall boomed, hurrying into the courtyard. "That is enough."

As Harry sat up, straightening his glasses, he saw that Snape had dropped Remus' wand and that all of the Slytherins had taken a few conspicuous steps back from their captives. Rosamund and Lily appeared to have also been knocked on their asses by McGonagall's spell- though Lily was already getting to her feet. Rosamund just sat there, completely ignoring McGonagall's presence and instead continuing to glare daggers at Harry.

After a quick survey of the scene, McGonagall spoke briskly. "Gryffindors- you will accompany Mr. Doe to the hospital wing and wait for me there. Slytherins- with me. And that includes you ladies," she added with a pointed look over towards where Milli, Gretta, and Haleigh were standing on the periphery along with Pura and Hagit. "Your wands, Carrows. Until this is sorted out," she demanded, extending a hand expectantly towards the two 7th year Slytherins. Reluctantly, they fished them out and surrendered them. "Yours as well, Mr. Lupin, Mr. Doe," she sighed. Remus quickly stooped down to grab his wand and hand it off to the professor while Harry had a slightly harder time of it having to first disentangle himself from the bush before crawling over to search for his own under the thicket. Once he found it, Harry turned his over as well. "And yours, Ms. Willus, for good measure," McGonagall requested, which Haleigh gave her without protest. "Now, directly to the hospital wing with you- which you are not to leave until the Headmaster or I have released you," she dismissed them. "Slytherins- my office. Now," McGonagall barked. Avery, surprisingly, stooped down to collect Rosamund and help her up.

They waited until the glowering Slytherins had fully vacated the courtyard before any of the remaining Gryffindors dared to make a move.

James was the first one to break the spell, coming over to offer Harry a hand up.

"Thanks," Harry grunted as he got to his feet. Using one of his sleeves to wipe away the blood running over his eyebrow and into his eye, Harry laughed. "Pomfrey's gonna be so mad," he said, unable to stifle another laugh and earning himself a series of concerned looks.

Harry was proven neither right nor wrong as a rather stoney-faced Madam Pomfrey greeted them at the entrance to the infirmary. McGonagall must have somehow warned her of their impending arrival because she didn't ask any questions as she immediately led them all to the back of the wing. The other patients watched on curiously as their group was shepherded past. Harry smiled and waved to the Hufflepuff girl he had spoken to that morning, but she just stared back at him with a slightly horrified expression. Pomfrey ushered the Gryffindors into her office.

She conjured a series of couches and chairs and instructed them all to find a seat. "Now, first things first- is anyone else injured besides the obvious?" She asked, with a nod towards Harry and a searching look cast around the rest of the group.

"I think it's just a bruise, if anything," Peter said, inspecting his arm at various angles. "Avery has a nasty grip."

"Mulciber too," Remus added, rolling back his own sleeve.

Waiting another few moments and hearing no other complaints, Pomfrey nodded in acknowledgement before making her way over towards Harry to start. "Do you want to tell me what happened?" She asked as she inspected Harry's face.

"Not really," Harry sighed, but he continued all the same. "Rosamund was upset- and she took it out on me. And she has sharp nails," Harry shrugged.

"Anything that I can't see?"

"Can we just start with the face?" Harry asked hopefully.

"Start?" Pomfrey raised an eyebrow.

"I may have fallen into a bush as well," Harry admitted. "So there's probably some on my back and arms, but they're all just little scratches- I promise," he said, raising his right hand in oath- the back of which also bore a few scrapes as well.

In the end, Pomfrey acquiesced to Harry's request and healed up his face and neck before having him take his shirt off so that she could manage the rest. The others- bless them- meanwhile tried their best not to stare at Harry and his marred skin while so exposed. Harry was also quietly thankful that Pomfrey allowed them to do this in her office, rather than out in the wing. Once she was satisfied that Harry had been returned to an equal state of health to that which she had released him in barely three hours prior, she moved on to Peter and Remus and had the lot sorted in a few short minutes.

"Now, you all are to stay in here. I must go care for my patients, but someone may come get me if you need anything. I will be back to check in on you in a bit or else Professors Dumbledore or McGonagall may be in to speak with you before then." And with that, Pomfrey left the Gryffindors to their own devices while they awaited their impending hearing and- hopefully- their release.

The silence that followed her departure was undeniably awkward. So many thoughts and questions were rolling around in everyone's heads, but none of the lions seemed brave enough to voice them. After a while, Harry was beginning to feel antsy again. He had half a mind to start a conversation about literally anything just to fill the air with something other than the mounting tension that hung there now. In the end, he thought better of starting something that may lead to things that he'd rather not discuss, and Harry resorted to another tried and true coping mechanism.

Getting up from his chair, Harry shucked his outer robe and shoes and made his way over to the bare patch of wall beside the door, planted his hands firmly on the ground and kicked his legs up. Once he was sure he was balanced, Harry took a deep breath and closed his eyes, attempting to shut the world out.

"Umm… What are you doing?" Gretta asked uncertainly.

Opening his eyes to see Gretta peering over the back of her chair at him, Harry sighed. "Trying to see if any of this looks any better upside down."

"Does it?" She asked, cocking her head to the side, sounding both skeptical and curious.

"Not really," Harry admitted before closing his eyes again.

There was a short stretch of silence before Haleigh quietly asked, "Do you think they're gonna kick her out?"

Harry snapped his eyes open- he hadn't even considered that. "Merlin- I hope not."

"What? Why?" Haleigh asked confusedly.

"Because I don't wanna find out what the next one does to me when they blame me for that too," he scoffed. "Besides," he went on, taking on a more somber tone, "she was just upset. It wasn't actually about me. She wasn't really trying to hurt me."

"You should've told that to your face," Sirius said, his head propped up on the arm resting atop his drawn up leg.

"She was mad. I get that." Harry would have shrugged hand he been able to. "Her best friend died. I'd be mad too."

"How'd you know?" Peter asked suddenly.

Harry looked a bit uncomfortable at the question. "I mean- I've lost people too. And made some pretty bad choices after. It's a lot easier to be angry than sad."

"No- about Neith. How'd you know all that stuff?"

"Oh-" Harry said, embarrassedly. "I- Uh- Like I said- it makes more sense doesn't it? The story and timing and everything feels a little too convenient, right? And you lot didn't see her that day. I don't know how well you knew her before then, but she was a full-blown fanatic. She thought she was doing the Lord's work out there. That's a pretty big one-eighty to make in not a lot of time."

"And what about last night?" Peter pressed, unimpressed by Harry's answer.

"Last night?" Harry asked, a little nervously.

"Yeah. Care to explain how you knew she was dead before the body was even cold?"

There was a series of outcries at that from around the room. A few shouts of, "Whoa!" and "Hey!" along with a hissed, "Peter!" and an angry, "Not cool."

Harry just muttered, "I don't remember."

Peter, who had put his hands up in apology for his previous comment, scoffed, "Pretty convenient how that faulty memory of yours only seems to give you trouble when you don't want to answer questions."

There was another round of collective disapproval at that statement voiced around the room, but it was soon cut off by Harry as he kicked off the wall and stood back up to glare at Peter.

"Convenient?" He hissed. "You think any of this is convenient?! Did anything about last night look convenient?! I'd like to see you go a few rounds with the Cruciatus curse and then tell me all of the details the next day. What color were the bloke's robes who tortured you? How many people were there to watch? What did you have for dinner before things kicked off? It's a bloody miracle that I can get out of bed most mornings and still remember Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration." Harry was breathing heavily, but he tried to let his sudden anger disperse a bit. "I didn't ask for this- and I know you didn't either. But not every question is going to get a satisfactory answer- that's life. I'm doing my best to suck it up over here, so maybe you could try a little too? Huh? Maybe you should just be thankful that no one tried to claw your eyes out today or that it's not one of your friends that's getting put in the ground."

Peter had gone pale and shrunk back into the couch by the end of Harry's rant. "I'm s-sorry," he managed to quietly stutter out.

Just as a heavy silence fell over the room once again, the fire behind Pomfrey's desk flared bright green and McGonagall stepped out. She cast a brief look around the room before saying, "Mr. Doe, if you would please take a seat. I am just going to have a quick word with the matron." And then she swept purposefully out of the room.

Harry reluctantly sat back down, bringing his knees up and resting his head there, turned decidedly away from Peter, as weighty silence cloaked the room once again. McGonagall was only gone for a minute or two and all too soon Harry found himself uncurling to sit up straight in order to properly face his professor.

Seated at Madam Pomfrey's borrowed desk, McGonagall let out a tired sigh before she began, "I would like to hear your side of events."

There was a brief exchange of communicative glances around the boys' side of the room before Remus spoke. "We were just standing, talking in the courtyard when all of a sudden it seemed like half of Slytherin jumped us. Mulciber grabbed me and Snape took my wand. Avery grabbed Peter, and the Carrows had their wands at James and Sirius' throats before we even knew what happened. They made Harry drop his wand. And then Rosamund came storming in, yelling at Harry. Lily jumped in to defend him- verbally, I mean. Harry tried to explain things from his perspective and then Rosamund just attacked him. Lily tried to pull her off- and then you arrived, ma'am," he finished succinctly.

Before McGonagall had a chance to ask any follow-ups, Lily added, "We," motioning towards herself and the other girls, "were in the hallway when we heard Rosamund yelling. And, well, can you really blame us for being worried when we heard that? The Slytherins had no reason to be anywhere near the courtyard then and with the recent track record… We tried to break it up, but when Rosamund started attacking Harry, that's when Haleigh ran to get you."

"I see," McGonagall said shrewdly. "Anything else to add?" She asked the group at large. Upon receiving nothing but shaking heads, she added, "Mr. Doe?" As her gaze settled on Harry.

"That's what happened, ma'am," he said with a shrug. "It was a bit much, but she was just upset."

There was a beat of searching silence before McGonagall gave a stiff nod. "Well, the wands corroborate that there were no spells cast, so you may have them back. And I want to acknowledge that you attempted not to escalate the situation- which demonstrates the appropriate maturity that I expect from my 6th years. Now, you may either return to the tower or else head down to the Great Hall as dinner will be served shortly," she dismissed them, before adding, "And if ever any of you would like to talk- about anything- do remember that my door is always open. I, Madam Pomfrey, and the rest of the staff are here to support you in all matters, not just academics."

They opted to head down to the Great Hall rather than trek all the way up to the tower before turning around to head down to dinner anyway. The hall was still pretty empty, so they claimed their seats by the far end- not so close to the doors as to be constantly jostled by the flow of students entering and leaving, but near enough that they could make a quick escape once they were finished with their meals. As they settled in, no one was very eager to talk, so most of them pulled out something to work on or entertain themselves with while they waited for the food to appear.

With a sigh, Harry put his head down on the table, and resigned himself to staring at the wall for a while. While yes, he did have an essay for Herbology due the next day, he didn't really feel like begging a book off of someone to work on it and he was equally unenthused about the possibility of joining in on the convoluted tic-tac-toe type game that James, Sirius, and Peter appeared to be playing on a bit of spare parchment. As he sat there, decidedly not falling asleep, Harry caught sight of something sticking out of Gretta's bag that piqued his interest.

"Is that today's?" He asked, pointing at the corner of the Daily Prophet peeking out from where it appeared to have been jammed hastily between two books.

"Yeah…" Gretta told him wearily.

"Can I see it?"

"Are you sure?" She said hesitantly.

"Yeah. I wanna know what it actually says."

Gretta pulled out the paper and passed it over to Harry. "Page 3," was all she said.

Harry immediately turned to the indicated page and read: A shocking and tragic update…

He couldn't help but read and re-read it. Shame is a difficult thing to live with. The words echoed around in his head. He could hear them, clear as day in that woman's cruel voice. I have no daughter. She made sure of that. Harry gave a bitter internal laugh at the careful wording of the statement. There was nothing technically untrue printed, but it was said vaguely enough to imply one thing while meaning another. Shame is a difficult thing to live with. Yeah, but whose shame? It certainly wasn't Neith's. No- it was her mother's.

Everyone jumped at the sudden burst of flames as the copy of the Daily Prophet that Harry was holding crumbled to ash in an instant.

"Sorry," he said apathetically to Gretta before looking down and sweeping the smoldering remnants of the paper off of the table. "It's a shame."

Harry hated how exhausted he was that evening. He'd dragged his feet as long as possible working on his Herbology essay, waiting out almost everyone else in the common room before slinking his way up to the dormitory. Quietly, he showered and brushed his teeth and got ready for bed. He organized his desk and double checked that Remus' gift was ready for his birthday the next day. Once he had run out of ways to put off the inevitable, Harry flopped into bed. As he stared up at the canopy of his four-poster, Harry tried desperately to distract himself. He thought about Charms and went over their whole last unit in his head, challenging himself to recall each spell they had learned in order. Eventually, he drifted off to sleep.

Harry woke with a start some hours later with cruel words ringing in his head and a deep ache in his muscles that spoke more to hours scrubbing floors than a Cruciatus curse. Biting back a groan, Harry sat up and shivered. His skin itched and crawled uncomfortably. His scar burned- but not the one that usually gave him trouble. The words on the back of his hand prickled in a way that made Harry want to rub them raw.

Liar.

The word was shrieked and hissed in his ears as slid his feet onto the cold stone floor. He rolled his neck in an attempt to release something- though he wasn't quite sure what.

Freak.

That one he knew was all Aunt Petunia's shrill voice. But he couldn't help picturing the look on Peter's face yesterday. Couldn't help once again feeling that stiflingly oppressive atmosphere that had settled around him and his friends.

Rubbing the back of his hand unconsciously against his pants, Harry couldn't decide which was worse. Well, at least he knew he wasn't a liar.

Anxiety rolled in his stomach as Harry pushed himself to his feet. Had he finally blown it? Had he finally done one too many freaky things? Had he finally scared his friends off? Driven them away? They certainly hadn't seemed to want to talk to him yesterday. Then again, he hadn't really been in much of a chatty mood either. But then why had it felt so- awkward? Looking around the room at the softly snoring occupants of the other beds, Harry felt so very out of place. He shouldn't be there. He knew he shouldn't be there. His body was screaming at him to go. To leave and find a nice, dark, out of the way place where he wouldn't cause any more trouble.

He wanted his cloak. His fingers itched to go rummaging through James' trunk until they buried themselves in the cool, slick fabric and he was wrapped in the comforting solace of invisibility. He wanted to wander the halls like the ghost he was. To find that perfect place to hide away before daybreak- before the sun rose and he cast a shadow much too big for his small, inconsequential form once again.

But even as Harry entertained the thoughts, he knew he wouldn't go through with them. For one, he would never steal from James. And sneaking out without the cloak would be too risky. No more trouble. But it was also something more than that that turned the escapist fantasy sour in his head. Harry didn't want to worry the others. Even within all of his spiraling negativity, Harry knew that if James woke up, he would not be worried about the missing cloak- he'd be worried about him.

You didn't come home last night… You have to come home… Please, just- come home…

Home.

It was still a bit of a foreign concept to Harry- having a home and being wanted there. But, well, if they'd let him fall asleep there, then they would probably expect him to wake up there too, right? But Harry couldn't just go back to bed. His skin still felt uncomfortable as it clung to his bones. He couldn't stand the thought of lying down. So instead, he made his way over to the windowsill- the very one where he always sat up to watch the full moon rise over the forest. With a quick glance around the still domratory, Harry tucked himself into the alcove there and cast a strong shield charm around the space. Reaching up, he opened the window just enough to let a steady draft of cold night air brush his face. Taking a deep breath, Harry leaned his head against the cool panes, bringing his aching hand up to press against the glass as well. The steady pressure and chill brought with them a blissful relief.

There was barely any moon in the sky, so it took Harry's eyes a while to adjust to the shades of darkness that painted the grounds, but soon he was watching the trees sway and the clouds drift peacefully in the breeze that lapped at his face.

There was precisely one day a year where Sirius could be counted on to be the first one up in the 6th year Gryffindor boys' dormitory- and that was March 10th. He took great delight in being the one to wake up Moony on his special day. It was a sweet irony that he savored for the boy who spent the other 364 days a year complaining about having to drag the rest of their arses out of bed. And at this point- it was tradition.

Not daring to turn on a light and risk blowing his covert operation, Sirius slipped out of bed and padded over quietly on socked feet to Remus' bed. Taking a brief moment, Sirius looked down at his peacefully slumbering friend and smiled fondly until a devious spark caught in his eye and it morphed into more of a feral grin.

Planting his hands firmly on the mattress just beside Remus' head and shoulders, he began to softly sing, "For he's a jolly good fellow," gently bouncing the bed in time with the song. "For he's a jolly good fellow," the words were getting louder and the beat faster as he went. "For he's a jolly good fellow!" Remus let out an exaggerated groan and rolled over so that his back was to Sirius and his head was buried in his pillow. "And so say all of us!" Sirius finished with a cackle, grabbing Remus' shoulders and giving him a shake. "Oh, come on Remi! Birthday boy's gotta be ready to face the day. We're burning precious daylight you mangey layabout!"

"Oh, piss off Padfoot," Remus grouched, though a fond smile that no one could see graced his lips.

Sirius just gave the boy one last shove before skipping off to wake the others, singing, "And so say all of us! And so say all of us!" Practically shouting each line in Peter and James' faces respectively, eliciting more groans from his friends. When he reached Harry's bed, however, the mirth slid off of his face. "Harry?" He called out tentatively, already searching the bed for any sign of either the boy or the fawn that should have been there. "Fuck. Bambi!" Sirius called again, turning around just as Remus flicked his wand and turned on the lights.

"What's wrong-?" Remus began, but Sirius cut him off.

"He's gone!"

Getting out of bed, Remus made to calm Sirius down. "He could just be-" but again, he was cut off- though this time by Peter.

"He's right there," he said, jutting his chin towards the windowsill where Harry had fallen asleep.

Sirius let out a sigh of relief, letting his shoulders drop as he made his way back across the room. "Well, that's a new place," he half joked. Reaching a hand out to shake Harry awake, Sirius cooed, "Bamb-" but the end of it was lost to a hiss as his fingers met an unexpectedly unyielding object midair just a few centimeters shy of his target. "Oww," he complained, shaking his smarting hand out.

"What happened?" Remus asked as he cautiously made his way over to join him.

"I think…" Sirius began, reaching his hand out once again- though much more slowly this time- only to stop mid air where he rapped his knuckles on an invisible barrier. "He put up some kind of shield charm."

"Really?" Remus asked, half expecting it to be some kind of prank as he reached out with his own hand only to meet that same wall that had stopped Sirius as well. "Huh."

"I'm impressed it stayed up while he was sleeping," James commented, joining the little group.

"Well, how are we supposed to wake him up now?" Sirius huffed before turning and banging on the shield, yelling, "Bambi! Bambi! Wakey-wakey! Don't make me toss you in the lakey!" Harry, for his part, didn't even stir.

"Try flashing the lights," Peter suggested over his shoulder from where he was rummaging for something in his trunk.

With a shrug, Remus gave it a go and after a few quick flickers of the lights, Harry's eyes snapped open. He jumped up straight and his shield charm crumbled as his focus was scattered. A blast of cold air hit the three boys gathered around where the charm had been in place and they all shivered.

"Merlin! Are you trying to freeze to death?!" Sirius cried, as his teeth chattered for a second.

"Wha-?" Harry asked sleepily.

Sirius reached out and gently pulled Harry off of the windowsill before reaching around to firmly close the window. "We don't need another Doe-cicle on our hands."

"N-n-no," Harry stuttered.

"No?" Sirius raised an eyebrow at him.

"N-not tryin' to f-freeze to d-death," Harry mumbled.

Sirius looked at him skeptically, noting the slightly glassy look in his eyes and the other boy's sluggishness. "How about we get you warm and argue about that later, yeah?"

When Harry didn't respond to that, Sirius just led him over to his bed and coerced the boy into it. Harry seemed to melt into the residual heat in the covers from where Sirius had been sleeping not too long ago.

"You guys go ahead and get ready and we'll see if he's a little more coherent in a bit. I'd hate to ship him off to Pomfrey if a little snuggle and a warm shower was all he needs," Sirius told James and Remus softly who nodded in return. And with that, Sirius shifted into Padfoot, who jumped up on the bed and wiggled his way down under the covers beside Harry, who was already half asleep. He seemed to curl in around the new source of heat, nuzzling slightly into Padfoot's shaggy fur with a contented hum.

A half hour later, Remus roused the now sleeping dog for the moment of truth. Once Padfoot had extracted himself, he changed back and gently shook Harry's shoulder before quickly pulling his hand back to a hopefully safe distance. "Bambi…"

Harry's face scrunched up as he brought a hand up to rub at his cold nose before slowly blinking his eyes open. "Wha'd you want?" He groaned.

"I want you to sit up and tell me Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration," Sirius said.

"What?"

"You heard me."

Harry let out another groan as he sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Gamp's Law explains the four Principal Exceptions to conjuring- food, currency, potions, and- uh- beings?" He explained tiredly.

"Good. Now, go shower," Sirius said, giving Harry a pat on the head, earning himself a swat.

Sirius danced away while Harry grumbled and summoned his glasses. Putting them on, he looked up and saw Remus watching the scene unfold. "Happy Birthday, Remus," Harry smiled before looking around and furrowing his brow. "Umm- Sirius? Why am I in your bed?" He called out in mild concern.