AN: I do not own Harry Potter or the Wizarding World Universe.

Chapter 14

"Johnson to Bell, Bell to Spinnet," Lee Jordan announced, his voice getting louder. "Passes Marrow, just Rollins now! Come on, Alicia!"

Harry watched the Gryffindors dominate the pitch. The Ravenclaw team was good, but the Gryffindors were better. At least, that's what it looked like to him. He wasn't an expert. The two self-proclaimed experts beside him kept up a running commentary that was less like Jordan's focus on the Quaffle and more on the positioning and moves of the players themselves.

Harry let the information go in one ear and out the other. He wasn't trying to be rude to his friends; he just didn't see the point. He hadn't even had time to go out flying on the school brooms outside of the mandatory Flight lessons every week since the start of term. They were fun, but trying to borrow one of the school brooms was a nightmare.

"Chang dives!" Jordan yelled excitedly.

Harry looked up. The Ravenclaw Seeker shot toward the pitch, her hand outstretched. McLaggen was hot on her heels. Harry frowned.

"There's no Snitch," he said aloud.

"Nonsense," Ernie said as he stood to get a better look over the other students.

"Oi! Sit down!" someone behind them yelled.

Harry wasn't surprised to see Chang break away and climb quickly. McLaggen was a little late in realizing it was a feint. It did give the Ravenclaw Seeker time to look around the pitch without having someone tailing her.

Unfortunately for her, McLaggen saw the Snitch before her, and she was out of position.

"Look at him go! McLaggen has seen the Snitch!" Jordan yelled.

Harry had to give it to the Gryffindor. Clearly, he'd been working hard to make up for his previous losses.

Gryffindor won by a large margin and ensured that Ravenclaw was out of the running for the Inter-House Quidditch Cup.

"So, just before Easter Break, Slytherin would have to lose to us, which, of course, is going to happen, and then Ravenclaw has to beat Slytherin for Gryffindor to have a chance," Cauldwell said as they made their way back up to the Castle.

"That's a lot of ifs," Finch-Fletchley said with a shrug. "Slytherin is going to beat Ravenclaw. They don't have the team to handle their fouls and heavy hits. That means we must beat the Slytherins. Even then, it'll be us versus them." Unlike Harry, Justin tried to learn everything about the wizarding sport.

"No, it isn't that simple. Our games have been close, and we did win, but Gryffindor just got a bunch of points for that match. We've got to score high against Slytherin and win," Abbott argued. "No, them winning this game by so many points means the Gryffindors are in the running again."

Harry just listened and nodded when it seemed appropriate. He was already dreading the few weeks of the Slytherins trying to make the Hufflepuffs lose points and get in trouble. The only comfort he took was knowing he wasn't on the Quidditch team. That would only make him a real target, not someone for Malfoy to try to release his frustration upon. Draco and Professor Snape were a lot alike in that regard.

On Tuesday after Gryffindor's win, Malfoy was back up to his old insults and attempting to bait the other first-year Hufflepuffs into getting in trouble. He hadn't had much success on Monday in History of Magic. No one wanted to test Professor Binns after the last demonstration.

In Transfiguration, Draco kept up a string of muttered insults and accusations under his breath. He took a seat as far from Professor McGonagall's desk as possible.

"Is it true Hufflepuff's common room smells like wet badger, or is that just you, Potter?"

Harry snorted. That was actually a good one. It was certainly better than his last insult of: "Potter, you might be the most famous wizard in Hufflepuff history. Not much of an achievement, though, is it?"

Draco obviously hadn't realized that Newt Scamander was a Hufflepuff. The current Minister for Magic had also been a Hufflepuff, but he didn't think that was much of an achievement if Susan's constant complaints about the wizard were to be believed. Her aunt, Amelia Bones, was not a fan of the Minister.

"Potter, are you sure you're in the right place? I thought Hufflepuff only accepted people who actually worked hard."

"Do you have the insults written down somewhere? Maybe that's where your magical talent is, being a jester. You might take Peeves' place once you die. About as useful too," Harry whispered back.

Malfoy started cursing at him and managed to catch Professor McGonagall's attention. He lost fifteen points. The other Slytherins glared at him. One of the older Hufflepuffs had said the Ravenclaws had overtaken Slytherin in House Points that morning at breakfast.

"You'll pay for that, Potter," Malfoy warned as they left the Transfiguration classroom.

In Defense Against the Dark Arts, Harry tried his best to ignore his pounding head. Oliver Rivers accidentally partially blinded Harry with the Sunlight Charm.

"Oh, sorry, professor, I wasn't looking where I was aiming my wand," Rivers explained as Harry blinked spots out of his vision.

Professor Quirrell stuttered something that Harry didn't catch. He was looking right at the professor when a knife-like stabbing pain dug into his brain from the area around his scar. "Never show pain," he whispered to himself as he rode out the after-effects of whatever happened.

Anger, unlike Harry had ever felt, welled up in his chest. He gritted his teeth and clenched his wand. His first impulse was to hex Rivers, but he stomped the desire down.

"You alright, mate?" Ernie whispered beside him.

Some dim part of Harry realized that his yearmate was keeping well away from Harry's wand. He managed to get the anger pushed down. "Yeah," he got out. It sounded like a growl to his ears.

"Right."

For some reason, the simmering anger surfaced several times for no reason as the class went on. Usually, Harry would be happy to cast the Charm he'd worked on before class, but he didn't trust himself. His anger was unnatural, and he couldn't help but wonder if Malfoy did something to him while his back was turned. Draco wasn't even in the class. Did he think that Harry would do something stupid if he were angry enough? Was it a curse? A hex? Something in his juice at lunch?

"Mate, you look like you want to punch something," Ernie said quietly as they finally left the classroom.

Harry took another deep breath. He looked at Macmillan. "I just need to vent or something. Where can I practice some spells without getting in trouble?" he asked, a little sharper than he'd meant to.

"Study Corridor off the Library. It's probably empty until four. I'll go with you," he said.

"I… want to come too. I need to practice that… uh… Red Sparks spell," Bones said quickly after stumbling over her words.

Harry didn't care who came; he just needed to use his wand and not hurt anything or anyone. Macmillan led them to one of two expansive rooms down a long corridor beside the Library. He pointed to a spot where someone could stand and send spells at a target on the other side of the room.

"Thank you," Harry managed to get out. He stalked over to the farthest spot, pointed his wand at a sad-looking wooden dummy, and said, "Sollucere." A brilliant beam of light erupted from his wand as the Sunlight Charm bathed the opposite end of the room with light.

As soon as he let the Charm go, he felt a little better.

"Blimey," Macmillan muttered. "I'm glad you didn't do that in class. I think the dummy down there is smoking."

Harry did see faint tendrils of smoke coming off the wood. He sent several other spells at it, careful to pronounce each incantation. A Knockback Jinx made the wooden dummy spin around, the Levitation Charm made it rise off the floor, and the Red Sparks Spell hit it in the chest. He let the target drop to the floor and sent a Severing Charm at it. A piece of the dummy that once might have been an arm fell off.

Harry breathed out slowly. He imagined the dummy putting itself back together and tried the Mending Charm. It more or less worked. That was one he needed to work on.

"Well… I don't think you'll have much problem with the practicals," Susan snorted. "Can I give it a go, or are you going to beat up on the poor thing more?"

Harry felt a grin stretch his face. He felt better and got out of the way so the others could practice.

The anger and the pain in Defense Against the Dark Arts was not a one-time thing. For some reason he couldn't explain, his head hurt, and the more it hurt, the angrier he got. It was like someone kept jabbing his scar with a rusty blade. He thought he might hurt someone if it continued.

"Sir, may I ask a question," Harry said as the others left Potions the next Tuesday.

Professor Snape sneered at him and looked around the room. "You obviously have," he said in a tone that meant that Harry should leave.

"I am not skilled enough to make my own Calming Draught. Do you know of an alternative?" Harry pressed on. Professor Snape was his best bet to getting an answer without having to ask Madam Pomfrey and explain what was going on. He didn't think she would like the fact that he was getting so angry he wanted to attack other students in his class.

Something seemed to shift in the Potion Master's expression, but Harry didn't know what it was. Professor Snape leaned back against the teacher's desk and raised a single eyebrow.

Harry took a deep breath. "My head… scar… hurts badly during D.A.D.A., sir. It's making me angrier and angrier, and I do not know why. Pain is nothing new, but this feels… I don't know. I read about the Calming Draught and hoped it might help. I will pay for any ingredients, but I can't make the potion yet," he said quickly.

The professor seemed to consider his words. "A little pain won't cause you to get angry, Potter. Leave," he sneered after a moment.

Harry took a deep breath. It was a long shot, anyway. "Thank you for your time," he said and made to walk out. Susan and Macmillan were near the door, waiting for him. He hoped they hadn't heard what he said.

"Potter, we have a Hospital Wing for a reason," Professor Snape said as he was about to leave.

Harry turned and nodded before closing the door behind him.

"What was that all about?" Ernie asked.

"I'm going to miss Defense today," he said with a shrug. He hoped they would drop it. Thankfully, his yearmates didn't ask any further questions.

Madam Pomfrey was in when he finally figured out where the Hospital Wing was. He'd skipped lunch. The massive double doors had been closed, so he walked by them twice without realizing they were at the end of a corridor.

"Yes, how can I help you?" the older witch wearing a white apron asked. Her light eyes and fly-away hair drew his attention for a moment.

"I… was told to ask you for help with a problem," he said slowly. He had no idea how he would explain what was happening.

"Go on. I do not judge, and as long as you are here in good faith, I will do everything in my power to help," the witch said softly.

Harry took a deep breath and used the exact same words he'd used with Professor Snape. Madam Pomfrey's expression was not what he expected, nor were her questions.

"Do you feel this way in any other class?"

"No, professor."

"I am not a professor, dear. Just call me Healer or Madam Pomfrey. This pain, is it in one place or all over?"

He answered her questions to the best of his ability. She asked questions like whether he'd eaten the same thing before each Defense class or if he ate a lot of sugar before he went to bed. Her questions seemed to go on forever, yet she never asked anything specific about the class itself.

"I don't know how all this helps, but can I just buy the Calming Draught? I don't know if it will even work," he huffed.

Madam Pomfrey's smile faded as her eyes roamed his face. "Before we use potions, I would like to try something first. Your class is about to start, correct?"

Harry nodded, unsure of where this was going.

"You will stay with me and take a bed. What was the last subject you worked on with Professor Quirrell?" she asked.

"Ghosts, Vampires, and Hags. All creatures who are weak against the Sunlight Charm."

"Good, then you will continue studying here. I will find a table. If you feel the pain or anger, please let me know. This will allow me to see if it is something within the classroom or if it is another factor. You said you did not feel this way when you read your coursebook?" she questioned.

Harry shook his head. He hadn't considered that his books might be cursed or something.

The afternoon passed without a problem. Harry's head and scar didn't so much as twinge. He didn't feel any anger or desire to hurt others.

"So, it is localized to the Defense Classroom," Madam Pomfrey said as she tapped her slender finger on Harry's book. "Your next lesson is Thursday?"

Harry nodded.

"Then I will give you a pass to visit me as soon as you start feeling these effects. You have my permission to leave, and if the professor says anything, feel free to give him the note and come straight here. Do not tarry or get sidetracked. Do you understand?" she questioned sharply.

Harry nodded and thanked her. He packed up his things and left.

The others were worried, but Harry said everything was okay. He wasn't sure they believed him, but he didn't push too hard to get answers. Harry got through the next two days without any issues. He told himself that nothing would happen in Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Ten minutes into the lesson, his head started to hurt a little. He ignored it. This level of pain was nothing, and Professor Quirrell, in his stuttering way, told them that the Gytrash, dog-like spirits with forked tails, would be on their final exam. Thirty minutes in, his head throbbed, and the pain was becoming more localized to his scar. He didn't feel the anger that generally came with the pain, so he stayed.

Nearly an hour into the lesson, a sharp spike of pain made him sway in his chair. What he could only describe as a murderous rage consumed his thoughts. He wasn't sure how he did it, but he left the class, leaving his belongings behind, and made his way to the Hospital Wing.

"Mr. Potter, it… come in," Madam Pomfrey said as she took his arm.

His body spasmed, and he wrenched his arm out of her grasp. He growled something and went for his wand. The next thing he realized, he was looking at the ceiling. It took him several seconds to realize he was in the Hospital Wing.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Potter," a soft voice said beside him. He blinked and looked around. The part of the Hospital Wing nearest the door looked like a hurricane hit it. Madam Pomfrey's face appeared in his vision, and he sat back, startled.

"You seem a little better," she smiled.

All of a sudden, he realized that he'd used a Knockback Jinx. "I'm so sorry," he muttered.

"Well, you did warn me that you were a little angry in class," she smiled, although it seemed forced. "How are you feeling now?"

It took him a moment to come up with an answer. "My head is still throbbing, and I taste something coppery," he muttered as he licked his lips.

"Any anger?"

He shook his head and winced a moment later.

"I've taken the liberty to inspect your belongings and found nothing that could cause this to happen," she said softly.

Harry nodded. He felt bad. "It's me?" he asked quietly.

"No. I spoke with Albus. He and Severus found a cursed object under your seat. Its purpose is to open the mind. At first, we believed you used it to take in more information, but it quickly became obvious that you were not the owner."

"Malfoy?" Harry muttered. The prat had said he would pay for his comment the other day. Nothing had happened so far.

"No, this is more complex than Mr. Malfoy could achieve. Both Albus and Severus believe it to be the work of the person who tried to frame you for entering the Restricted Section. Yes, all infractions are tracked, even suspected infractions. Albus and Irma cleared you."

Harry grunted. He hadn't done anything, yet they had marked it in his record. That didn't seem fair at all.

"I have been assured that this will not happen again, and the culprit will be found," the healer said with a smile.

Harry took a deep breath and lay back. He realized how uncomfortable the bed was and shifted.

"Are you in pain somewhere?" she asked.

Harry shook his head. "Just trying to get comfortable. Too soft," he muttered.

The healer seemed to study him for a bit. He watched her out of the corner of his eye. She waved her wand, and he felt the bed harden. Immediately, his back felt better. It wasn't as hard as the floor, but it was much better. "How did you do that? Oh, thank you," he quickly said.

Madam Pomfrey studied him for a moment. Harry noticed that her fingers were a little tight around her wand and her back straight. He shifted on the bed. Maybe he shouldn't have said anything. She was angry with him. His eyes flicked to the destruction by the door. She had every right to be angry.

"Can… I fix that?" he asked with a nod to the damage.

Something passed over her features. Harry studied her mouth and stayed still. Something he said made her angry.

"You will need to rest," the healer said, her tone soft. He saw her white knuckles and knew she was only pretending to be nice.

Harry nodded and lay back. He kept her in the corner of his eye so he'd know when to expect something to happen. She'd seemed nice, but Petunia was friendly to strangers too. Now that Harry had destroyed something of hers, she would be angry with him.

The healer studied him for a bit before moving off. He glanced at her back. She seemed even angrier now.

Harry lay there for a while, wondering what to do. Would she allow him to leave for dinner? Did she intend to keep him longer? They found the cursed object. Did that mean his headaches would stop?

He took a deep breath and glanced across the room. The healer was cleaning up the mess he'd made with her wand. He'd been lucky that Professor Snape didn't do something to him when he asked for the Calming Draught. His luck had run out, was all. There will always be people like Vernon and Petunia.

He wasn't like Dudley. He didn't deserve friends. His friends were in books and being useful. Petunia made sure he knew what his job was. He rubbed his index finger with his thumb. "Careful. Be careful. Do not do anything to anger the healer."

Harry waited in bed and reviewed what he had done wrong. She was a stranger, and he'd asked her for magic. She was like Professor Snape and didn't like to share information. He understood that. His yearmates asked for his notes all the time, but he didn't like to share. They'd know what he knew, and he would stand out.

He began reviewing everything he'd done since coming to Hogwarts. A dawning horror rose in him. He knew better. Dudley wasn't here, but Malfoy acted like him. Was that what he meant? Did his Housemates help Malfoy? Finch-Fletchley certainly didn't like Harry much. He'd been… too trusting around the others. Bones, Macmillan, Abbott, Harper, and Hopkins worst of all. He wanted to be worried about Merriweather… but, he struggled to come up with anything. There were good people, like Mrs. Townsend, when he was nine. His teacher stood up to Dudley and his gang. Getting them in trouble with the principal.

Harry was punished when he got home, but she wasn't to blame. It was his fault that somehow Dudley knew he ratted on them for punching Susie Baker in the nose.

Time passed in that fuzzy way he remembered in the boot room. He was aware of the healer moving around the Hospital Wing, but he was focused on other things.

Professor Sprout was another concern. Was she like Petunia too? He'd seen anger before, and she'd… hugged him. Were hugs a sign of something? He'd seen mums and dads hug their children in school. Petunia hugged Dudley all the time and called him pet names. Vernon didn't hug anyone, not that Harry saw. What other reason did someone give hugs?

Harry fretted over the Head of House for what seemed like an eternity. There was a gnawing worry in his stomach that she would come to visit him. What would he say? How did she really act? Was it just a mask like Petunia? His chest hurt from trying to keep calm. He glanced toward the healer. She didn't seem to be paying attention to him.

As if thinking about her summoned the professor, his Head of House appeared in the doorway of the Hospital Wing. She had his bag. Hadn't the healer said they searched it? Why did Professor Sprout have it, then? Right then, it didn't matter.

Straight-backed, hand clenched over the straps of his bag, and a firm expression on her face, Professor Sprout marched toward Madam Pomfrey. Harry watched her closely without being obvious about it. At least, he hoped he wasn't being obvious. The Head of House went to the healer and whispered something. Madam Pomfrey pointed to where Harry was. He quickly tried to look busy doing… what, he didn't know, but not looking like he was spying on them.

"Harry, how are you feeling?" Professor Sprout said a few minutes later as she sat his bag on the side table.

Open arms. Relaxed back. Open hands. Smile.

He processed the information and tried to understand the difference between when she entered and when she came to see him. "Fine, professor," he said. She'd come to expect him to talk with her, and he didn't want to make her angry. That was his fault for talking so much. People wanted you to talk more when you did.

"I heard about what happened. I… I must admit that I was surprised you went to Professor Snape first, but I'm glad you did. He was able to assist much quicker than normal."

Harry heard the accusation. She was his Head of House. Why hadn't he thought of asking her first? Professor Snape was a strange choice in the first place. He knew the man hated him like Vernon did. Maybe he'd hoped the promise of payment would work? It worked with Vernon. For some reason, he couldn't come up with a good reason why he went to the Potion Master first. Professor Sprout would have been able to get the Calming Draught for him.

He realized he was taking too long to answer. "Sorry, professor," he managed to get out in a rush.

She smiled at him. Harry wasn't sure what to make of it. Nothing changed in her expression, but it felt wrong. "I'm glad you're doing well. Is there anything you need?"

He shook his head. There would be food in the Kitchens when he left. That gave him an idea. "I do need to do my homework. Can I leave now?" he asked, trying to keep from sounding too hopeful.

"I will ask. Are you sure you don't want to stay a little longer?"

Harry nodded. He deliberately did not look at the healer, who seemed to be hovering nearby. Was she afraid he'd say something? What would he even say? It took him a moment to realize he was starting to breathe a little heavier. He stroked his index finger under the sheets.

After what felt like an eternity of Professor Sprout staring at him, which might have only been a few seconds at most, she smiled and moved away from the bed. Harry fought to keep from breathing out too hard. He desperately wanted to know what the two were discussing but didn't want to appear too interested. After a moment, he heard softer footsteps and turned to look.

The healer had his wand, but it wasn't pointed at him. "You are free to return to your dormitory, but if you feel anything, and I mean anything out of the ordinary, you come back and see me," she ordered.

He nodded but promised himself that he would never return unless he had to. Even then, maybe not.

The healer looked him over again before glancing behind her to Professor Sprout. Harry had no idea what was going on, but he was almost positive that his Head of House was the one that got him out of there. The healer stood straight-backed, her hands resting under her stomach, and he could see the muscle of one of her arms bulged. She was likely clenching her fists. Not a good sign.

"You are free to go," the healer said with a nod to him as she swept away from the bed and deeper into the Hospital Wing.

Harry deliberately did not jump out of bed, but it took as much willpower as it had not to attack his fellow yearmates in class. His hand shook as he took up his bag, almost forgetting his wand on the bed, and slid his trainers on. He wasn't sure when they came off or why. Professor Sprout was beside him before he was to the door.

"When you feel up to it, and there is no rush, I would love your opinion on a new tea I've cultivated. Do you like jasmine?"

Harry had never had jasmine tea. He shrugged. That seemed good enough for the professor. "Good, just drop by after class. If I'm not there, feel free to check the greenhouses," she said with a smile.

After a few more corridors, the professor went in a different direction.

Harry didn't run, not really. He just quickly moved to the Kitchens and asked for dried meats and a jug of juice. Thankfully, the house-elves didn't even ask why. He thanked them and rushed to the Common Room. Somehow, he managed to get by the groups of other students and didn't get spotted by his yearmates.

Harry had no words for how glad he was to have the invisibility cloak. It wasn't until he was on the floor of his dormitory under the safety of his cloak that he felt like he could breathe again. His hands shook as he clutched his schoolbag. Eventually, Harry was able to calm down enough to consider what to do.

Abbott, Bones, Macmillan, and Harper likely would want to know what happened. The others probably wouldn't care. They might even know if the professors found the cursed object while they were in class. He might not have to explain anything.

At some point, he'd gotten too comfortable. The adults were the ones who might make him go back to the Dursleys. He wouldn't jeopardize that. Remembering about the Dursleys made him grimace. In a few short months, he would need to go back. What then? Was there anything he could do? Madam Pince hadn't been angry with him. She even cleared him in his official record. Maybe… she could give him ideas… but she might think he needed to stay with the Dursleys. Anyone who met them thought they were great people.

Harry crossed his legs and thought furiously about how he could plan for the summer and how he would act for the rest of the term.