A/N: He-hey, I got an update up within a month! *throws a party*

For those of you who read my last A.N., I'm doing way better now. Life is still crazy, but isn't that always true?

Thanks to whythehellnothavefun and ComfortSnake for beta reading this chapter!

Last Chapter: Harry was forcefully pulled out of his tank to the Care of Magical Creatures classroom, where Professor Artemius Braeburn collected some samples. The Carrows then arrived with Ginny in tow, intending to torture Harry to draw information about the DA from her. Instead, Seamus Finnegan and Flynn Martin arrived and rescued Ginny, leaving Harry behind.

It was so quiet. Harry hated the quiet.

Only Artemius was left, hesitantly uncurling from where he'd tried to shelter next to the little cabinet that supported his wireless. The only sound was the splashing of the water around Harry. Its dramatic movements were the only proof of the pain and chaos that had been present just moments before. It tugged on Harry's body where it had a grip on his tail, jostling his searing shoulders and electrifying his cruciatus-tormented skin. He heard himself whine quietly - pitiful, scared, pained. He felt as if he could barely breathe for the agony searing in his upper back.

Artemius carefully made it to his feet, his eyes darting around the room as if afraid. He drew in a shuddering breath and readjusted his grip on his wand, before his eyes landed on Harry and he hurried to the edge of the tank.

"The absolute brutes," he said shakily. "I tried to tell them this was a bad idea, Calder. To hurt such a beautiful creature for something so crude. I tried, but they have more sway in the castle than I do, unfortunately. Let's get you down now, nice and easy…"

As Artemius spoke, he aimed his wand and lowered the cuffs on Harry's wrists slowly, carefully, until the water was supporting most of Harry's body weight. Harry let his eyes drift partially shut as the warm water wrapped around him, prickling his battered nerves but soothing his throbbing shoulders. His tail spasmed in a reflexive movement to dive under and escape. The cuffs didn't let him go, though, and he only caused another quiet wail of pain to escape his chest.

"Shh, shh, easy now," Artemius soothed. "I'm going to help you feel better first. Trust me, you won't be able to hunt the way you need to with shoulders like that, Calder. Come now, swim over here and I'll fix you up."

Harry's wrists were still held by the cuffs, but they didn't drag him - the magic almost felt loose, as if it were a lead and the professor had left slack in it.

Artemius was holding a hand in the shallower water of the interaction tank, making little splashes as if to encourage Harry to approach. Harry rolled his eyes painfully toward the professor. He'd said something… oh. He was offering medical care? But he wanted Harry to go to him for it?

Harry twitched, then clumsily kicked towards the professor, letting himself drift into the narrow confines of the interaction tank as the professor had wanted. The light pressure on his wrists released as he did so, and Artemius's face lit up with excitement.

"There you go, good boy," the professor praised.

Harry emitted a displeased, muted bass note in response. His eyes were still just slits, but he could see Artemius clucking to himself on the other side of the glass, his wand flicking as he sent out waves of penetrating magic to assess Harry's body.

"Dislocated shoulders - no wonder with that swelling - and severely torn muscles. Overtaxed nerves. Thank Merlin it's not worse."

Harry grumbled wordlessly - only understanding that the professor was relieved, for some reason - and then whined as his muscles spasmed, causing him to bump against the tank's side.

"I know it must hurt quite a bit, Calder. Try to be patient; I'm going to fix you up. You'll be back to swimming and hissing and hunting just as you were shortly."

Harry looked at the professor blearily. What was he still going on about?

Magic seized the bones in Harry's left shoulder. Harry didn't have time to react before the magic forced his bones back into place with a loud pop, and he screamed. Artemius was keeping up a stream of soothing words above, but Harry didn't hear the meaning. The magic moved to his right shoulder, and, without any hesitation, forced the bones there back into place to make Harry scream again. The water around him buzzed with the high-pitched sound, which felt like sandpaper against his raw skin.

The magic retreated from Harry's body, leaving him to gulp down water and try to steady himself against the floor of the tank. He felt himself trembling; whether from pain, shock, or both, he couldn't know. His bones felt far more fragile than they ever had before. Remembering the feel of them shifting underneath his muscles was enough to make him feel sick, but his stomach stayed still. And the pain he'd been in had dulled a little, though his shoulders were still throbbing with angry heat.

The professor was still talking, Harry realized.

"…don't care what their reasons are, I am never letting them near you again, Calder, I promise you that!" Artemius's volume had risen, confident now that the others seemed well and truly gone. He'd gone over to the cabinets hung over his worktable and was sorting through various glass bottles that looked like very large doses of potions. They clinked gently against each other as he moved them around to read their labels. "I was entrusted with your research and care by Lord Slytherin and the headmaster himself. If anything more permanent had happened to you… I shudder to think of it. No. I must tell the Carrows that you must not be harmed! You are far too valuable for advancing magical research to waste on crude interrogations."

The professor paused, then lifted a bottle from the shelf and turned back to Harry. "Here we are. A little something to help your muscles heal, and it should help take away some of that pain, too."

Harry was used to swallowing potions, so he was startled when the professor simply uncorked the bottle and poured it into the tank next to Harry. Harry whistled in surprise and jerked back from the quickly spreading, noxious-looking green cloud. He could feel the potent magic in it, already spreading out toward Harry's mouth and gills.

There wasn't any way Harry could avoid breathing it, though. The magical lid of the tank's wards had him sealed in just as surely as the grate past the tip of his tail.

Foreign magic reached into Harry's body, carried on the bitter potion. He hissed at the intrusion before he realized that the magic was seeking out his sparking nerves and torn flesh, muffling pain and knitting muscle back together. He slumped, letting the water carry his weight, and crooned softly at the relief. The bitterness of the potion-laden water didn't seem so bad anymore; the wizarding magic no longer an invader in his body, but an ally.

"There you go, Calder. Much better, isn't it?" Artemius said consolingly from above. "We'll just let you get all that into your system for a little while. You'll be feeling right as rain again soon."

The professor gave the side of the tank a gentle pat as if trying to comfort Harry.

"And don't worry, this won't happen again. I will see to it. I'm sure the headmaster will agree with me, once I make my case to him. He's a reasonable man, and he can put a leash on the Carrows." The professor drifted away, and Harry heard the muffled clink of the potion bottles being set down. "Would you like some music on, Calder? I can't let you back into your tank just yet, but there's no reason we can't make this as pleasant as possible for you."

Harry made himself look up and saw the professor already tapping the wireless with his wand. It was still tuned to the channel that played opera music. There was a male singer on at the moment - the voice intense, low, foreign, and unusually flat in its singularity. An orchestra was playing in the background, punctuating the swells of the singer's voice with a host of stringed instruments.

It wasn't as unpleasant as Harry would have expected opera to be, back when he'd still been human. But it still felt as if it lacked some vital element to making it enjoyable. It was an acceptable way to take away the grating edge of silence in the room, but nothing more.

"I don't have any recordings of mersong, unfortunately," Artemius prattled, fussing around something at his worktable. "So you'll just have to make do with this for now. I know it isn't the same, but it's about as close as we humans can get to your beautiful voices."

Harry decided to ignore him and gingerly moved his arms, wary of the pain that had lit him up at small movements just a little while ago. The potion was doing its job well, though, and the pain was manageable. Not just the damage done from his dislocated shoulders, either - the professor had given Harry something to soothe the pain from the cruciatus, too.

Harry chirped in quiet confusion. This was the first time he'd received any kind of medical attention after being tortured, and with his head still a bit hazy, he couldn't figure out why the professor had bothered. Harry was a prisoner, and Voldemort and his death eaters were known for torturing their captives to either death or insanity. Sure, Voldemort might want to keep Harry alive now, but "alive" didn't have to mean "comfortable and in good health." Besides which, the professor had spent some time not too long ago ripping out Harry's scales.

Needless to say, it didn't make sense.

Harry's grumble made the water's surface above him jump in rounded waves. His body was still aching, but he also knew the potion wasn't done yet. The magic became more concentrated inside of him with every breath he took, sticking to his body even as the water came and went again.

Harry tried to sink as firmly as he could into the bottom corner of his tank, resigning himself to the fact that he was stuck here again under the professor's watchful eye. Artemius was still at his work table, no longer prattling (thank goodness) but humming along with the strains of the music as he worked. Every so often he glanced over his shoulder to check on Harry before turning back.

The entire setting felt so completely mundane that Harry had a hard time believing that the other events of the morning had even happened. In the chaos of seeing Ginny alive, getting tortured, and watching his friends escape; Harry had nearly forgotten that he'd also been attacked inside the tank, repeatedly stunned until he felt bruised, and then undergone the professor's unwelcome and painful prodding. Had it really just been a couple of hours since he'd been trying to write messages on crab shells?

The water was warm, and there was music, and Harry's muscles felt like thread unwinding from a spool as the potion continued to mend and soothe. He found himself submerging under a mental haze, a single eye beginning to close. He was so tired. Being catapulted from crushing boredom and loneliness into heart-pounding adrenaline, then slammed with the unexpected agony of torture was already enough to leave him sapped. He didn't even have the energy to begin sorting out the tangled mass of emotions associated with the memory of Ginny and Seamus escaping-leaving-him-behind.

Easier just to let himself sleep.

Harry did force his eye back open when Artemius's shadow darkened the tank. The professor stood over Harry, a soft look on his face that almost convinced Harry that the man somehow cared.

"Shhhh, it's alright," Artemius said quietly. "No need to worry. It's just me, and we're all done. No need to be alarmed."

Harry hissed quietly, and the professor cracked a smile.

"Already feeling better, I see," the man said. "Don't worry, I'll leave you alone to rest for a while."

Artemius left Harry's sight. Harry checked over his shoulder to see the professor conjuring a simple wooden chair near the door, then summoning a magazine from the worktable. He was obviously intent on staying.

Harry roused himself enough to shift into the opposite corner of the tank, where he could better keep an eye on Artemius even as he slept. Exhaustion was still pulling at him, overriding his distrust of the wizard. No matter what the man had already done, he truly didn't seem to have any intent of causing Harry pain at the moment. Besides, Harry could wake himself up if the wizard so much as twitched.

Harry let the banality of the warm water and the opera music wash over him again, pushing thoughts of Ginny and escape and being trapped from his mind. He'd have to deal with them eventually, he knew, but for now…

Well, it wasn't as if his ruminating thoughts made the slightest bit of difference to the world outside his tank, anyway.

He let himself sleep.

Neville paced in the common room, anxiously twisting and rubbing his hands in front of him. Almost all of Gryffindor was in the room with him - most of the younger years sitting with friends and speculating about the cause of the school's lockdown, while many of the older students (most were in the DA, by now) gnawed their lips or paced and exchanged knowing glances with each other.

Their plan had been hasty. It couldn't have been anything else, given that it had been pure luck that had given them an opening to attempt freeing Ginny at all. Neville had called an emergency meeting, shared his information, and helped hatch a simplistic plan with the available members of the DA in just half an hour. He'd tried to volunteer to lead the rescue team but had just as quickly been shot down by Seamus.

"If this goes south, Gryffindor needs you more than it needs me," Seamus had insisted. "Stay. Keep everyone safe. I'll get Ginny."

Neville had wanted to protest. The Gryffindor seventh-year boys' dorm was already half the size it had once been, with both Harry and Ron missing. He didn't want to lose another. But Seamus had been getting more and more agitated, and Neville knew if the other boy couldn't do something productive he'd likely end up exploding in a way that got him killed needlessly later.

Flynn Martin, one of Ginny's closest friends, had volunteered as the second. Demelza Robins, who'd been overeager to take action for weeks, volunteered immediately for the role of runner. She'd stay under a disillusionment charm cast by Susan, and tail Seamus and Flynn so that if anything went wrong and the rescue team were captured, she could report back to the DA what had happened and where they'd been taken.

Flynn knew where Ginny's stash of Weasley Wizard Wheezes products was, and that she had some Peruvian Instant Darkness powder among the supplies. The team had left together to retrieve it, from there to go straight to the eighth floor in the hopes of intercepting the Carrows and Ginny before they made it to Harry. The hope was that they wouldn't have to break into the classroom to free Ginny, though they all knew the passcode just in case. Using it would likely mean losing access to Harry later, though, so Neville had urged them to get up there as quickly as they could.

Still, he was all too aware that their time had been very short. It had been half an hour since the students had been ordered to return to their common rooms and prohibited from leaving, and the rescue team hadn't returned. Neville couldn't help but imagine the worst. His friends and housemates captured and tortured, or even killed, for the crime of resisting Voldemort. No one on the team was even an adult. They were kids, and Neville felt as if he'd doomed them all.

There was nothing else we could do, he tried to tell himself. We couldn't just abandon Ginny.

They also couldn't afford the risk of her breaking under the pressure of watching Harry be tortured. They could all end up dead.

The portrait opened. Neville turned quickly, hoping it was Seamus, Flynn, and Demelza. He deflated when he saw it was McGonagall.

She assessed the room with pursed lips. Neville knew she was taking note of who was there, and who wasn't.

"Mr. Longbottom," she said, making Neville start. "A word, please."

Neville glanced over his shoulder. Parvati was sitting on the couch, staring blankly into the fireplace. Even still, she was the other senior prefect… if only because she was a pureblood. The same reason as him.

Any protests or questions stayed stuck in Neville's throat, though. He followed his head of house back out of the portrait hole, and looked at her nervously, expecting the worst.

"I was told to find out if any more of my students were involved in this morning's events," she said gravely. "In addition to Ms. Weasley, the Carrows are currently searching for Mr. Finnegan and Mr. Martin, who were both identified during the rescue."

Neville swallowed. So something had gone wrong. Their hope had been to use the darkness powder, then grab Ginny and run before they could be identified. Had they arrived too late? Had a fight broken out?

But if the Carrows were searching for them, that meant they'd all gotten away.

They'd all been able to run. Which meant they were all healthy… probably.

"Mr. Longbottom," McGonagall interrupted his worrying. "If there was anyone else involved, it would be best if you told me who so that I can provide them an alibi."

Neville blinked. "Um, Demelza. Demelza Robins, she - she was - "

McGonagall raised her hand to stall him. "She was working on an extra-credit assignment in the greenhouses this morning, and so didn't hear the announcements to return to the common rooms for the lockdown."

Neville stared at her, taking a moment to catch on before he slumped and nodded in relief. "Thank you, Professor."

"I'll see to it that Professor Sprout is aware," McGonagall said.

Neville let out a steady breath and nodded, immensely grateful to have a professor on their side.

"As far as the Headmaster will be concerned, all of Ms. Weasley's accomplices risked themselves to rescue her in a show of typical Gryffindor rashness," McGonagall continued. "Thus leaving Gryffindor house purged of its extremist element."

Her slight smirk showed that she knew very well that the so-called 'rebellion' had many more members than just three Gryffindors.

Neville swallowed, nodding. "Professor… you said… they were seen. Do you know if they… will they…"

"Will they be successful in getting away?" McGonagall guessed.

Neville nodded.

"The Carrows lost their trail, and so, are currently combing the castle," McGonagall said. "So long as Ms. Weasley and her rescuers had a place to hide, I suspect they have made it there by now. I cannot speculate any further than that."

Neville sagged with relief and gave the professor a grateful nod. "Thank you."

McGonagall turned to the portrait of the Fat Lady. "Allow Ms. Robins to enter when she returns. If anyone asks you about her return, tell them you don't know the details and direct them to me."

"Aye, I will," the Fat Lady answered solemnly.

"Professor?"

McGonagall turned back to Neville. "Yes?"

"Why did you only ask to talk to me? Parvati is a prefect, too."

McGonagall pursed her lips. "Would you say that Ms. Patil wanted to be a part of this conversation?"

Neville recalled the way she'd seemed to fold in on herself more and more with each passing day; how he often saw her sitting together with Lavender clutching hands while they read their textbooks, trying to block out the cries of first years who'd just come from Dark Arts.

"I… suppose not, Professor."

"Ms. Patil would be weaker for being included, not stronger," McGonagall said quietly. "Though I trust you to keep that to yourself."

"Yes, Professor. I suppose… I understand. I will."

McGonagall laid a hand on Neville's shoulder and squeezed, leaning close and lowering her voice. "I have seen how you have shouldered the burden suddenly given to you, Mr. Longbottom," she said, eyes serious but crinkled with anxious pride. "I know it is not an easy one to bear. I am immensely proud of all my students, but especially of you - and I know your parents would be just the same."

Neville swallowed thickly at that, clenching his fist on an imaginary candy wrapper.

McGonagall gave his shoulder another squeeze. "Rely on your friends, Mr. Longbottom, when it grows too heavy. And be careful."

Neville gathered himself with a shaky breath, then forced himself to meet her gaze and nodded. "Thank you, Professor. And you too."

Demelza returned, disillusionment charm having faded, another hour later. Neville wasn't the only one to notice her return, and several voices were raised to ask her where she'd been before Neville raised his voice above them all.

"Demelza, here. McGonagall was looking for you."

The sixth-year approached him warily, but the others backed off. He put up a quick privacy spell once she'd taken a seat at the table across from him. It wasn't that he thought anyone in Gryffindor would betray them, but some of the younger years were too curious for their own good. Good kids or not, it might not take more than a threat or two from the Carrows to have them accidentally letting slip something important.

"Your cover story is that you were in the greenhouses working on an extra credit assignment, and didn't hear the announcement about the lockdown," Neville said quietly. "McGonagall is going to make sure Professor Sprout will corroborate it."

Demelza slumped in her chair and nodded. "I was hoping to get back sooner, but the charm wore off halfway back and I'd seen Snape and Filch prowling around, so I hid in a secret passage until it seemed quiet. I didn't even know if it was safe for me to come back here after I heard about the lockdown."

"They'll know you weren't here, but McGonagall and Professor Sprout will cover for you," Neville reiterated, trying to be reassuring.

Demelza nodded shakily.

"Are they safe?" Neville asked.

"Yeah," Demelza breathed. "They all made it."

Neville slumped in his chair at the news. "Thank Merlin."

"It was close," Demelza said, eyes flicking up to Neville nervously. "By the time we got up there, they were already torturing Harry."

Neville tensed all over again, eyes widening. He didn't have to press before Demelza continued.

"They'd left the door open. I think they'd just started - too eager to start torturing to bother watching their backs."

Neville clenched his hands on his knees. Demelza took a deep breath.

"They threw the powder in, and it worked. They got Ginny, but in the doorway, she started fighting them. She wanted to go back for Harry. The powder started to fade, and they were all spotted. Finnegan and Flynn barely got her out before they were hit with a cruciatus."

Neville closed his eyes, intentionally taking deep, measured breaths. They should have predicted that Ginny wouldn't want to leave Harry behind. They should have found a way to cover Seamus and Flynn in disillusionment charms, too. Or gotten there faster. Or…

Something.

Neville swallowed. He was forced to admit, bitterly, that this had been the best they could manage under the constraints.

And he really couldn't blame Ginny for trying to go back for Harry. Ordinarily, they wouldn't leave anyone behind. But rescuing Harry with their current resources (which was to say, none) would only get Harry and them killed. A fact Ginny could have easily forgotten when she'd been held prisoner, tortured, and then seen Harry tortured. The fact that Harry was a siren now was secondary to her - she only saw her boyfriend.

Neville could only imagine how Harry was feeling right now. He doubted that the Carrows had explained to him what was going on, and it would be awful to be left behind with them, no matter how practical the DA's reasons.

Demelza took another deep breath. "The Room provided beds and bathrooms for them, but we're going to have to sneak them food."

"We'll manage," Neville said. Somehow. Getting enough food for three people up from the kitchens to the seventh floor undetected was easier said than done. But they'd do it because they had no other choice. It was a problem for later, though. The important thing right now was that everyone was safe, and Neville needed to make sure Demelza stayed that way. "Was Ginny hurt?"

"Little banged up," Demelza said. "She said she'd been crucioed a few times, but no lasting injuries as far as we could tell."

"And did they get anything from her?"

"Snape was out of veritaserum," Demelza said, her eyes shining with relief at how lucky that was. "And she's sure she didn't tell them anything under the torture."

"That was close," Neville said hoarsely. Way too close. They needed to be more careful. All it would take was one of them captured and dosed with truth serum to sentence the entire DA to imprisonment, perhaps even death.

Neville's heart raced just thinking about it, and for a moment, felt he couldn't breathe. Then he dug his fingertips into the tabletop and reminded himself that they'd gotten away with it, this time. They'd just have to do better in the future. They would have a very serious talk about the consequences of taking rash actions, and hopefully, even the most headstrong of Gryffindors would understand. They couldn't afford to make mistakes, not anymore.

"You okay?" Demelza asked, frowning, concerned.

"Yeah," Neville rasped, then cleared his throat and tried to sound stronger. "Sorry. Yeah, I'm alright. That was just… too close. I don't like the fact that we're still okay because of luck."

Demelza nodded and shuddered. "Yeah. Me either."

Neville once again fought to get his racing thoughts under control and made himself smile at the girl across from him.

"Thanks, Demelza. I'm glad you're safe."

"Ditto," she said with a small smile. Neville returned it, even though he had no idea what the word meant.

Her smile didn't last long, turning serious once again. "Are we still going to try to… do the other thing?"

She meant talking to Harry.

"Yeah," Neville answered softly. "Though we should probably wait a week to let them drop their guard a little. I'll call another meeting and we'll figure it out."

She nodded and rose from her seat. "Well, for now, I think I need a nap."

"Hey," Neville said, stopping her. "Thanks, Demelza. You did great."

Demelza smiled, but her eyes were anxious.

"Not really. I was terrified."

Neville smiled weakly at her. "I'd be more worried if you weren't. Besides, I think we all are, Gryffindor or not. You acted despite that, and that's what counts."

Her smile became a little more genuine.

Days went by without any disturbance. It was frightening, how Harry's life now seemed to swing wildly between terrible, oppressive boredom and heart-pounding fear. For the first two days after being tortured in front of Ginny, Harry spent every waking moment tensed for when he might hear that chime to signal they were coming for him again. But the water stayed silent, and exhaustion forced Harry to relax.

He'd begun sleeping in smaller chunks, scattered across both day and night, so he could watch the silent, darkened hallways outside his tank in the wee hours. He both dreaded and hoped that he would see Ginny again, sneaking out to see him. He hoped that she'd made it safely away because the shovel-faced woman had been stomping and sour every time she passed Harry's tank ever since Ginny had escaped.

He knew Ginny needed to stay hidden; that sneaking to come out and see him would likely end with her getting killed. But he realized that he was also horribly lonely, and his feelings were not obeying his reason.

He was presently back to work on his write-a-message project, and he couldn't make himself stay quiet. The entire tank was quiet. He had to do something to banish the silence, and was only mildly irritated that he kept finding himself humming or singing nonsense lyrics or talking to fish. He really wished that the Hogwarts school song had better words. It was one of the only ones he knew from start to finish, and singing "Hogwarts, Hogwarts, hoggy warty Hogwarts," over and over again had about as much appeal as the silence.

He'd caught a crab the previous day for breakfast, and taken great pains to pry it open without snapping the large upper shell into pieces. He'd used his teeth and claws to scrape it clean of as many lingering traces of meat as he could, and then had begun the long process of scratching a warning message into the outer part of the shell.

His space was extremely limited, and his writing was necessarily blocky and childish thanks to his tools. He had to press very hard with his claws to make a mark on the shell, and even then, he wasn't confident it was distinct enough to be readable to someone on the other side of the glass. So he'd set to scratching the message over itself, again, and again, and again, and again. His claws had been aching by the time he'd put it down the day previous, and he still wasn't satisfied that it was readable. It didn't help that his claws often slipped on the slick shell, leaving errant hairline scratches in places he didn't want.

He'd debated for a long time about what he wanted his first message to be. He had two pieces of information to share that were both important: details about the horcruxes, including his own status as one as well as Nagini's; and the muggleborn concentration camps that Umbridge was working on. While the horcruxes were vital to defeating Voldemort himself, Ron and Hermione were still out there, and the muggleborn camps were a far more imminent threat. It was also far easier to condense a warning about it onto a shell than it would have been to try to fit an entire, detailed explanation about horcruxes.

So far, his message simply read, "DANGER. MB CAMPS."

He was really bored from scratching those letters for the hundredth time. He was lying on one of the rock shelves toward the top of the tank, where fewer people seemed to be around. His claws were beginning to ache again, but he wanted to finish this. To do something useful, even though he was trapped and useless.

"Our heads could do with filling with some interesting stuff," Harry sang absently as he scratched. He'd picked the tune of one of the opera songs Artemius had had playing the other day, and he smiled to himself at the juxtaposition of the ridiculous lyrics with the dramatic swoops of melody."For now they're bare and full of air, dead flies and bits of fluff." He let his voice plummet on the last few words, turning the song ominous. Ridiculous.

Harry finished tracing the jagged triangles of the "s" and went back to the beginning of the message. His tracings weren't perfect, and so the lines often ended up far enough apart that they didn't compound on top of one another to actually make the message clearer. His tools were clumsy at best, though, so there was nothing for it but to keep going.

"My head doesn't have any dead flies," Harry hummed to himself. "But Luna was pretty convinced about the wrackspurts. Maybe that's what the song means."

He worked at it a while longer before he felt something flutter against his tail. He turned and looked down to see the persistently irritating fish that he'd been wary of in his first few days back at Hogwarts. He'd woken up to it hanging onto his tail a few times, now, and had learned it wasn't trying to hurt him.

"Hey, Hoover," Harry greeted the fish as it inspected Harry's scales. It had an odd, oval-shaped flat thing on the top of its head. He'd thought it some kind of disease once he'd gotten a good look at it, but it seemed to work a bit like a suction cup. As Harry watched, the fish swam so its head was pressed against Harry's tail and latched on[1]. The sensation was a little funny, but not painful or uncomfortable. Harry figured it was just the aquatic version of a freeloader. Why swim around on its own if it could just piggyback on Harry?

He did have a suspicion that the fish was eating something on Harry's scales. Algae, or bacteria, or dead skin, or something. He did feel a little cleaner whenever it had been poking around him for a bit, and he'd heard about the tiny fish some spas used to help clean dead skin away from people's feet. Maybe these were something similar? His theory was what had given him the idea for the name, in any case.

A second fish, similar to Hoover, was swimming up towards them now. Harry hummed in curiosity as the other one approached. He'd thought there was only one, but they looked identical, so it was possible he just hadn't seen them together before.

"I see you brought a friend, Hoover," Harry said as the newcomer investigated Harry warily. He let it circle his tail and stayed still, and finally, the new fish seemed to decide Harry was safe enough. It latched itself onto Harry's scales a bit lower down than Hoover had.

"It's only right that you get a name too," Harry told it. "How about Bissell?"

The fish, predictably, didn't react; but Harry chuckled at his own joke just the same.

"I guess you two are about the best company I'm going to get in here," Harry sighed, turning back to his shell. He frowned at the progress. The letters were wide and jagged and pale, but they were there. The question was whether the glass would distort it too badly to read.

Movement outside the tank caught his eye, and he looked out to see the shovel-faced woman stomping onto a staircase just below his position in the tank. He quickly pushed the shell flat against the rock to make sure it was out of her view, then watched her as she stormed down the staircase as if someone had brewed her tea with salt water. Served her right. Harry hadn't forgotten the look of anticipation on her face while dead-eyes had lifted his wand to crucio Harry.

"I'll take the fish over the death eaters, though," Harry whined softly.

Once he was sure she was out of sight, he lifted his shell back up to examine it critically. His consideration emerged from his gills as a steady hum. The vibrations it sent into the water were soothing to Harry's skin.

He moved the shell higher to give Hoover and Bissell a clear view of it.

"What do you both think? Will Neville be able to read it?"

Bissell let go of Harry's scales and shimmied further up, then reattached himself.

"Yeah, that's what I'm worried about," Harry said. "This glass is pretty thick. What if Neville can't see it properly through it?"

He got no further response from his two freeloaders, though, so Harry pushed himself off of the rock and swam up to where one of the tank's two largest fish was swimming in lazy circles. This particular one had a strangely lumpy head that reminded Harry of Frankenstein. It was thicker than Harry's chest and at least a meter long, with dull green and blue scales[2]. As Harry approached it, Hoover and Bissell stayed attached to his tail. He felt a slight amount of extra drag from their presence, but not enough to make swimming difficult.

Harry flipped to swim alongside the Frankenstein fish and held the crab shell out in front of its face.

"I need a tiebreaker opinion," he told it seriously. "Bissell thinks it's still illegible because he had to move closer, but Hoover seemed fine with it. What do you think? I need my friend to be able to read it from the other side of the glass."

The fish turned to avoid Harry's hand and the shell it held, dismissive.

Harry hummed in annoyance. "Come on. You've got nothing better to do. You may as well try to read it."

He pushed the shell in front of the fish's face again. This time the fish ignored him entirely and pushed Harry's hand aside, managing to flick Harry's shoulder with its tail as it passed.

"Fine, be that way," Harry said, the notes sharp with annoyance. "You obviously have more important things to worry about than the lives of thousands of innocent people. Like swimming in circles, doing absolutely nothing. Is your brain leaking out of your skull? Is that why your head is so lumpy?"

The fish continued on its set course, ignoring him.

"Fine then," Harry told it. "I'm calling you Crabbe. You have that same look about you, you know. The dumb, lumpy kind."

The fish turned a bit further away from him, and Harry crowed in victory.

"Serves you right for ignoring me, Crabbe!" he sang. "You probably can't even read and that's the real reason you're ignoring me!"

The fish sank in depth a little, irritated with Harry's lingering presence and witty insults. Obviously.

Harry couldn't sigh, but he could sing a little sound that kind of mimicked one. He did as he looked back at the shell in his hands. He would have to name the other large fish Goyle. Wouldn't be right to have one without the other, after all. What did they even eat? Their mouths weren't very big, and they didn't seem to have scary teeth. They didn't eat other fish, did they?

He bet the eels in the Great Tank ate fish. They had some scary teeth[3]. Harry was never going to stick his arm into a dark crevice underwater again, because he was pretty sure one of those could take a finger off.

"Focus, Harry," Harry sang to himself, flicking his tail in annoyance. "Message. Thousands of lives at stake."

He blinked at the message. It seemed perfectly legible to him, but he also knew exactly what was supposed to be there, and he thought the letters might be burnt into his eyeballs by now.

Maybe he was just overthinking it. He'd been able to read Ginny's letter through the glass, and that writing had been much smaller. But it had also been clearer, given that it was written neatly in ink on parchment. But his writing was bigger. And thick.

It was probably fine.

Hopefully.

"My claws ache," Harry murmured, flexing his hands. "I could always try to show Neville, and then if he can't read it I'll scratch it out more. But I think he will be able to. He should. I think. And I'm hungry. I think it's dinner time. Or maybe lunch? Maybe it doesn't matter."

What he wouldn't give to be able to go sit down in the Great Hall and just eat. Instead, he was going to spend upwards of half an hour trying to corral hundreds of fish into a corner of a tank that probably had thousands of cubic feet of water in it, just so he could manage to catch one.

Maybe, when he had finished passing on his message, he should try to make some kind of net. At least then he might be able to catch a few fish at a time, and he wouldn't have to hunt three times a day. Perhaps he could manage it by tying bits of seaweed together? How strong was seaweed, anyway? And how much of it would he need to make a net?

Harry tucked his shell into a wedge between two pieces of coral, then swam down to catch himself a meal.

A house elf drunk on butterbeer ended up being the solution to the DA's food-smuggling problem.

The prefects had been taking it in turns to ferry food from the kitchens up to the Room of Requirement for almost a week while on their patrols. Most of them had at least one item of clothing or a waist bag that had built-in undetectable extension charms, which were well-suited to being stuffed full of cloth-wrapped pastries, bread, cheeses, and fruits obtained readily from the obliging kitchen elves. The charms had their limits, though, and the prefects were barely managing to get the three fugitives enough food to cover two meals a day. It wasn't even November yet, and Neville worried about what they'd do when more students were forced to take refuge in the Come-and-Go room.

He was sure it would happen. The violence against muggleborns wasn't going to get any better with the Carrows around.

When Neville arrived for Herbology and saw Susan setting up by the bubotuber again, he thought maybe she had the same concerns. He collected a tray of snapping snapdragon seedlings and a stack of small pots, then set his workstation up next to her.

But it seemed their luck was holding. She had good news.

"We don't have to smuggle anymore," she told him, her voice a breathy whisper, tight with excitement.

Neville's mouth dropped open, a squawk of "what?" almost escaping before he banished it back down. When he tried again, he managed to contain himself to a low whisper as well.

"How?"

"There's a free house elf who works in the kitchens," Susan said, fighting a grin even as she kept her eyes trained down on her tray of seedlings. Her dragonhide gloves were getting plenty of use as the tiny plants belched sparks at her. "Apparently, the elf was in the habit of crashing in the Room when she got too smashed because the other elves don't go there. She popped in last night, gave our friends a right scare and almost left again before Seamus talked her down and she practically passed out."

Neville frowned. He thought he remembered Harry being friends with a free elf, but he was pretty sure that one had been male. Doppy, or Dotty…

"What's the elf's name?" Neville asked.

"Winky," Susan answered, dashing Neville's idea. He was sure Harry's friend's name had begun with a "d."

"She used to belong to the Crouches," Susan went on. "And she's been drinking ever since she was freed by Crouch Senior for being caught with a wand."

"And she's… going to help us?" Neville asked dubiously. Between having served the Crouches, the drinking, and the wand, the elf sounded more like a liability than a help.

Susan smirked. "She blames the death eaters for corrupting Crouch Junior and destroying her family, and she wants nothing more than to serve a respectable family again. When Flynn asked if Winky could bring them food, she made them swear they'd find her a new family to serve in return."

Now it was making more sense. "Weasleys?" Neville guessed, since he couldn't imagine muggleborn Flynn Martin or half-blood Seamus being particularly comfortable with a house-elf that manic. Ginny's family wasn't well-off enough to purchase a house elf, but at least they wouldn't be a foreign concept to her.

"Zacharias, actually," Susan chuckled. "He took them their meals last night and walked in while Flynn was trying to persuade Winky that she didn't need a family at all. Once they explained what was going on to Zacharias, he offered her a bond on the spot. All it took was his claim to be descended from Hufflepuff to convince her she could be proud to serve him."

Neville shook his head slightly, smiling. "Guess all that bragging had to be useful for something."

Susan snorted. "Don't let him hear you say that."

"Well, it's a relief," Neville said. "Sneaking like that every night was risky."

Susan agreed with a nod. "Even better, she'll be able to get out of the grounds and back without being noticed. She could carry messages or get supplies."

"More of that darkness powder would be useful," Neville murmured.

Susan nodded.

Neville bit his lip, thinking it over. Usually, students' family house elves were blocked by the Hogwarts wards from getting onto the grounds. But Winky was keyed to the Hogwarts wards as a Hogwarts elf, which meant she'd be able to come and go freely. That would have some big advantages, though she wouldn't be able to whisk the fugitive students away to safety. Hogwarts elves were permitted from taking students off the grounds, and WInky would be bound by the terms of her employment contract just as firmly as the elves Hogwarts owned. She also wouldn't be able to access the Smith properties, yet. Zacharias's great-aunt was the current matriarch, residing in their family's country manor with her son - the heir - and his family. Zacharias's mother was fourth in line for the family seat, and wasn't wasting her time hoping it would pass to her. She and her husband owned a kneazle and crup clinic on Diagon with a spacious home above the clinic floor. Zacharias would need to accompany Winky to both locations to bond her not just to his magic, but to the family's. The wards would keep her out until then.

"Zacharias already told her to keep working for Hogwarts?" Neville asked, just to be sure.

Susan nodded firmly. "He says he's got it covered, though Ernie and I both gave him advice about how to handle an elf just in case."

Neville nodded, content at that to let the Hufflepuffs handle the situation. "I'll let Parvati know. She'll be relieved not to have to do that tonight."

"She probably already knows. Zacharias told Anthony last night, so he's had all day to tell Padma."

And it wasn't suspicious for Padma to partner with her Gryffindor twin Parvati in a class or take her aside after a meal. Neville was the last DA prefect to find out, only because he was harder to approach than the rest. He didn't have many classes nowadays, and only Herbology allowed prolonged interaction with the other students.

Neville gave Susan a small smile. "Thanks for telling me, then. And we're still in the clear for tonight?"

"Yep," Susan said. "I'm on with Padma in the second shift. We'll cover you."

"Demelza is disappointed to miss out."

"Better not have too many involved," Susan said, a repetition of what they'd decided on in their last meeting. "And you don't have to rely on someone else's magic to stay hidden."

Neville shrugged. "I think she understands that, but she wants to do more. A lot of them do. It's only natural."

Susan smiled wryly. "You're dealing with more of those types than most. Can't say I'm jealous of you and being the leader of the lions."

"I'm not," Neville said, flushing. Harry was. And even when he'd really been around, they'd been a fragmented bunch, even in their own dormitories. Ron getting jealous of Harry, or angry at Dean. Seamus believing the Prophet's smear campaign against Harry, and Dean following along to avoid being disloyal to his friend. Neville avoiding conflict in general, and avoiding Ron when he'd had his own crush on Ginny.

Susan rolled her eyes and plopped a furiously spitting seedling into its new pot before soothing it with warmed potting soil. "Our year's Gryffindors have shrunk to half the number they had last year," she said, rather unnecessarily in Neville's opinion. After all, his dorm only had two beds in it now, compared to the five it had begun with. "So who is leading, hm? It isn't Brown - she doesn't have the common sense for it, and she's made too many enemies in the other houses with her gossiping. It isn't Parvati - she's a follower through and through, and now that she's a prefect while Brown is trying to avoid notice, she's barely managing to avoid breaking down completely. It isn't Eloise Midgen, because she's so shy that hardly anyone even knows her name. And it isn't Thomas, because he's also a follower, and he's understandably terrified, even more so now that Finnegan is gone. So. You."

A heavy weight seemed to settle on Neville's shoulders as she laid it out, so plain and bare.

Oh, Merlin. He was leading. How had that happened?

Susan flicked a small bit of dirt at Neville's robe sleeve. "Don't look like that, Longbottom. You've been doing great."

A strangled croak emerged from his throat as he tried, simultaneously, to comprehend the fact that he'd somehow become a leader and also not to collapse in a complete panic attack about messing it all up.

"You're good at keeping your cool even when emotions are running high, and at focusing on what matters," Susan went on. "It's reassuring to everyone."

Her words were kind and meant to be a balm, but Neville caught on to the way she spoke of "everyone" and not just the Gryffindors, and his brain began to melt completely.

"The entire DA thinks of me like that?" Neville croaked.

Susan cleared her throat. "I think… unofficially. Yes."

"But you… you're leading," he said lamely.

Susan snorted. "Hufflepuff, yes, but people respect me more because of my aunt than anything I did. They respect you because you don't budge on what's right, even when you're afraid, and it's clear that you're loyal to the entire group." She shot him a stern look, like a warning not to descend into panic again. "Don't overthink it, Longbottom. Just keep doing what you've been doing. And maybe let the fact that everyone genuinely respects you give you a little more confidence in yourself."

"Haaa…" Neville whimpered. "You know, you're really reminding me of all the reasons I never wanted to lead anyone in anything."

"It's usually the people that don't want to lead that end up actually being good at it."

Footnotes:

1. The Remora Fish is a real fish (or rather, a group of fish) often seen catching rides on larger aquatic animals such as sharks, whales, and rays. They have an... interesting diet, but they do help keep the water (and their hosts) clean. There's a link to an entertaining article with some lovely pictures of these oceanic ugly ducklings on the Ao3 version of this fic.

2. "Crabbe" the fish is an example of a very large Humphead Wrasse, also known as a Maori Wrasse or the Napoleon Wrasse. Males can get up to 2 meters in length, and they're known to be very friendly to divers!

3. If you guessed that Harry was referring to moray eels, you'd be correct. There are other species in the tank as well that aren't so terrifying, but Harry doesn't have much of an education in marine biology. To him, eels are all basically the same.

I am not an expert on what species of fish can realistically be put in the same aquarium with each other. I try to pick species that are consistently found in tropical waters, but beyond that? I don't have that kind of research time, lol.