Chapter 18: Back On My Feet Again 1/2

THE BINDING OF FATES

CHAPTER 18

WHEN I'M BACK ON MY FEET AGAIN

Summary: The Senior Hogwarts Staff have a meeting with the Auror team. Pomfrey experiments on Harry's blood.

"Headmaster," Auror Drinkwater said. "Sorry to trouble you so late." It was two in the morning.

"The hour is of little importance. The sooner we get to the bottom of this attack, the better." There was no twinkling of eyes, nor was he in any mood for frivolities. "One moment, please. I wish to summon the heads of house for this meeting." Albus Dumbledore flicked his wand four times and then gestured for the Ministry Officials to come in to the staff room.

"The meeting will be basically inconclusive, I'm afraid. But feel free to summon them." River Drinkwater and his fellow Auror Jon Dawlish stepped into a board room next to the Teacher's lounge. Dempster Wiggledale, the representative for the Research Unit Sub-Human Intelligent Non-Goblin Species (R.U.S.H.I.N.G.S) division of the Regulation of Magical Creature Department followed them in.

Mr. Wiggledale pulled along a thick chain dragging along the suspect house elf who was cuffed and muzzled. The manacles connected the neck, wrists and ankles with chains designed more for a human three times his height. The elf's head stared at the ground, ears drooping, tiny fists holding up the overlong chains' slack close to his chest as if his life depended on it not dragging on the ground.

The three Ministry employees took seats at the long rectangular table. Albus Dumbledore flicked his wand. A teapot and clean cups came floating towards the table. He smelled the pot and realized that it contained stale tea.

"While we wait for my fellow teachers, I will see to this," Dumbledore said and stepped into the kitchenette next to the staff room to make a fresh pot.

By the time Snape, McGonagall, Flitwick and Sprout came into the board room, Albus Dumbledore was already seated and everyone had a cup of tea before them.

"Apologies for the late hour, but I believe we all would like to hear what the preliminary investigative results were," Dumbledore greeted his staff. The four heads of house murmured agreement and took their seats, except Snape, who watched the elf with an intensity reserved for errant Slytherins who dared overstep their bounds.

"Severus, please sit," Dumbledore said calmly. Snape pulled out his chair and sat, eyeing the elf handler next.

"Why is the creature chained like this?" he asked with an air of suspicion.

"Vampire's manacles. Stops magical disappearing or shape shifting," Wiggledale pulled the chain for emphasis, and the elf shuffled closer, holding his chains close, similarly to how a baby holds its favourite blanket for comfort.

"The headmaster wanted us to meet as soon as our preliminary report was finished," Dawlish said. "Our main talking points will revolve around this-" he took out a wand wrapped in parchment. "And this," he placed a written scroll and a vial of an unidentified potion on the table. He opened the scroll of notes.

"Um... In summary: the scenario presents itself as a premeditated chain of curses, poisons, hexes and mind control. And ended in one heck of a battle. The elf here," he pointed. "Is the middle man. Mr. Lockhart was his victim. Penelope Clearwater was also an intended target of this elf, or possibly directly hexed by the mastermind. She has been coerced using an amorous potion, and then confounded, and lastly suffered under a memory jinx. The potion was found in Lockhart's quarters. We have countered the poison, but the combination of the mind control being compounded by the Confundus charm is an issue. Right now, she may need weeks to recover properly from that particular combination of spells. She needs rest, and proper medical care. Her status is considered stable and her treatment can be facilitated here at the school. No need for St Mungo's until the healer here can evaluate and escalate if necessary."

Dawlish took a sip of his tea, frowning at the report parchment.

"Lockhart's natural corpse would have connected a lot of missing pieces together. Unfortunately, Harry Potter and Jon Black decided to take matters into their own hands. And from our light questioning of a few of his classmates, something Potter did seem to trip the whole situation."

"Something Potter did?" Snape snapped.

"From all accounts, Lockhart and this creature here were performing a show, a break-the ice technique to possibly give a fun first impression. Lockhart was definitely not himself, however. Neither was this fellow. The elf was controlling him, to a point. The elf was also under instructions."

"From who?"

"That, we failed so far to find out," Wiggledale offered. "Their magic binds them from breaking their owner's secrets. He is not registered in the family elf records either."

"What has he said?" Dumbledore pressed. Yet another elf somehow caught up in dark magic. Was this a coincidence?

"Nothing. The tongue has been removed. And he cannot be coerced to use other forms of communication. A well thought out plan to protect the true culprits."

The staff all looked perplexed at the elf, who resembled something more like a pitiful bat without wings. Dawlish cleared his throat.

"But various dark modifiers were inflicted on Lockhart before these two came before the students, some we believe were cast a while ago. Most likely he was probably forced or under the Imperius to ingest a personality modifying potion, but the petrifying curse leaves that aspect inconclusive. Which makes this much harder to pinpoint exactly what happened to him. Something about Potter's presence caused Lockhart to change. Some students noticed his eyes turning a pinkish hue before those two boys decided to do something."

Snape stiffened. Dumbledore noticed Snape's reaction, but did not take his eyes off of the Auror. Dawlish stood up and approached the wall.

"We traced the spells back on this wand," Dawlish tapped his wand on his report scroll and with a flourish threw it up into the air towards the wall. The scroll flattened, enlarged, and stuck on to the wall. On it was a report on the left half and a diagram of a clock on the right half.

"One week ago," he commanded, and the date appeared above the clock. He tapped the scroll again. "I am creating a time lapse of the last few days of Lockhart's life," he explained to his audience. He tapped the scroll clock. "Six second hour speed." The clock's three arms spun quickly, and pings of light glowed on the second hand every time a spell was cast. A Conjured Spell List appeared underneath the clock in sync with the glowing light.

"The regular stuff, if you consider all these grooming and styling charms 'regular' for a male. Also there is a pattern of daily household routines at particular times until this day, Thursday of last week." He pointed with his wand at the list which showed a repetition of basic spells a wizard might use during the course of a week. "Then, nothing." The clock kept spinning but no blips of glowing light came forth. "Nothing until... Sunday morning, where a normal unpack spell and some other regular mundane stuff associated with him moving into his quarters. A peculiar and noticeable gap. Sunday's spells were ended at five fifteen by a weak attempt at a rubber shield spell and a hastily attempted Patronus message, which probably did not reach its intended target . Did anyone here get a distress call from Lockhart before the opening feast?"

The school staff shook their head murmuring negatives. "The Hogwarts Express' arrival at Hogsmeade is usually at three thirty. Students usually arrive at the castle an hour or hour and a half after," Flitwick stated.

"Yup. We believe that a participant might have been on that train. We suspect whoever was behind this, captured Lockhart previously, most likely Thursday evening; and did whatever they needed to do to him. Probably made him ingest a Forget-Me-Please memory potion to lock away whatever curses they put on him."

"That may be Jack In the Box," Snape hissed. "A potion used to mask hexes and curses to allow a short period of normalcy. Effective for moving cursed wizards in public without drawing suspicion. Only known by select potions alchemists, and nigh impossible to brew." Auror Dawlish nodded.

"Drinkwater. Make a note of that. Very possible lead. It narrows down our search. Never heard of it before, but you may be 'in the know' more than us," Dawlish said. "Auror Drinkwater, the Spell globe, thanks." Drinkwater opened a small chest and passed him a small clear ball with two holes in it. "So. Here is where it gets serious. Monday, one p.m. If you didn't know this little fellah here," he tossed up the glass sphere; "It's a Spell globe. It can replay images of spells cast by a wand. Only images, so do not be alarmed. The spells are not active."

Auror Dawlish pushed the tip of Lockhart's wand into the spell globe's hole. A light began to swirl in mist within the sphere. A smoky yellow light emanated away from the wand, resembling a muggle cinema projector beam.

A sequence of magic began. Auror Dawlish pointed his wand at the list of magic numbered down the scroll display on the wall. He started from the top.

"Ok first. Concealment. The Disillusionment charm. Cloud dust charm. Smoke Bang hex." Auror Dawlish explained as the spells rippled forth, pulling down his wand along the scroll.

"As you can see, this is what happened in the classroom. The fight really begins when Lockhart uses a highly skillful non verbal-deflection of a Stunning Charm... then an incredible sequence happened. Watch!"

A blistering light show of magic flowed out of the wand. "Blazing Curse. Sticking Charm, Cushioning Charm, Cutting, Obliteration, and Banishing. Bombarda multiple times, Confringo the same, Shield Counter Shrinking hex, Cutting ten times, Combustion, Ignition, Disembowelment, Bone Shattering, Concussion, Inciendo, Full body bind, Ripping, Crushing, Surgical Amputation, Impedimenta, Flame spear, Icicle curse, Scorpion Curse, Propulsion Charms. You name it. The spell globe recording enchantment has listed all seventy five lethal spells within the fight which lasted less than thirty seconds. Finally, a pretty strong Protego. Then nothing. He was taken out."

The staff were silent, watching the eerie light show splash against the wall. Dumbledore's eyes were scrutinizing the list of magic coming down the enlarged scroll.

"Harry could not have been the one responsible for blocking all that," McGonagall whispered. "I doubt even any seventh year could."

"Indeed," Snape said softly. "This defense was all Mr. Black."

"We deduced that. However, we cannot, under Ministry Law, confiscate his wand and do this same procedure to him. This definitely was self defense under lethal attack, and he is not to be pressured into an interrogation. What we do know is that whatever petrifying spell he used, it's pretty damn strong."

"What would you like us to do for you concerning Jon, Auror Dawlish?" McGonagall asked politely.

"Watch over him. You've got a transfer student who knows how to block all of these spells. Usually, in our experience, that means that they might have knowledge and expertise in using them. Or, he has one heck of a shield charm. One of our main conclusions why we suspect Lockhart was under some sort of dark magic control was the extreme change of behaviour from Sunday to the point of combat. Also, not one Unforgivable was cast, which needs a full combination of mind, heart, and magic to work." Dawlish flicked his wand at both the scroll and the Spell globe. The presentation was over. "Unfortunately that's all we have for you, at the moment. Mr. Wiggledale? Anything you want to add?"

"This elf is our only real clue to who was behind this. We are locking him up in our dungeon until we figure out a way to get the information from him," Wiggledale confirmed.

"I will be staying on, Headmaster Dumbledore," Auror Drinkwater said. "Auror Dawlish would try to crack it from his end with the rest of the department. We have agreed that I will remain and be his eyes and ears." The three Ministry officials stood up.

"Very well," Dumbledore agreed, also standing. "Thank you for your report. The floo network will be open in my office." The staff and Aurors all walked out, the heads of house diverting along the way to return to their quarters. Dumbledore escorted the Aurors to his Office and Dawlish and Wiggledale left through the fireplace.

Rivers Drinkwater and Albus Dumbledore stood staring at the fireplace, both men contemplating the not-so-ideal situation the school was in. The light soot from the fireplace was falling slowly unto the thick rug.

"If that will be all, Headmaster," Drinkwater turned to leave.

"One moment," Dumbledore hesitated, thinking. "I do have a favour to ask. I hope that you may be of some particular help to us, in a non-Ministry capacity?"

"Oh? What did you have in mind?"

"While we search for a replacement for our teaching post, would you terribly mind organizing a Dueling tournament to help train some of our students to defend themselves in a real life situation... and also to take their minds off of this horrible tragedy? A welcome and useful distraction would raise the spirits of the school, while imparting useful knowledge which may help keep them safe."

Drinkwater thought for a moment, touching his chin as they walked.

"That's a good way for me to get to know the students here. Once I don't have to mark papers and issue detentions, I don't see why not. I wish I had something like this when I was here."

"Excellent. We may speak more of it tomorrow, and make our plans a reality. For now, let me escort you to your quarters."

"Sounds like a great idea," Drinkwater smiled, rubbing his short beard. "Mighty fine idea, in fact."

"You would be doing the children a great service. I would be in your debt," Dumbledore acknowledged with a slight bow as they walked through the dark hallways of Hogwarts.

Michael Ellewyn-Sare sniffed the reverse side of the secret passageway in the Ravenclaw Tower library at four o clock in the morning. He found nothing in that bathroom. No revealing spell had any effect. The only reference he knew about the Secret Chamber of Hogwarts was a vague clue. Moaning Myrtle was killed a long time ago, in a bathroom. Other than getting chummy with the ghost and blatantly asking her, he had to figure this out himself. The ghosts were loyal to Dumbledore.

Someone had definitely tried to prevent anyone from entering though. That Confundus trap was well played, growing in intensity the closer to the door the person reached. Penelope paid that steep price already. The lust potion forced her to do his bidding with an indomitable determination but all of those steps on the Confundus Charm made her turn back. By that time it was too late. She was speaking in tongues for an hour and then finally passed out around noon.

Whoever orchestrated that defense knew the bathroom was special. That meant he was getting very close.

He just needed to crack the secret.

Patience, a small voice told him inside. Haste will not make a difference here. Intellect and patience is the key.

His fox nose smelled no one was around, so he pushed through and reverted into his normal body. He snuck upstairs into his bedroom and changed his robes into his pajamas. He would ponder about this mystery a few more days then try again.

Lucius did say that it won't be easy. Anything worth forty thousand galleons couldn't be easy.

I can't believe I am doing this.

Tonks was currently controlling a tempered Lumos spell as she tiptoed through the massive but disgustingly smelly chicken coup.

A fucking chicken thief. Oh well. It could be worse. Someone could actually catch her doing this daring and kick-ass heist.

"Nymphadora. Listen to me. You hunted shitty nogtails and drained their stinking piss in a farm smelling of death and even more shit. This is nothing. Don't cry. Just do it," she hissed to herself in the dark, red-bulb illuminated building. She had a large, empty flour bag strung over her shoulder, ready to full up with feathered presents; a psychotic female version of Santa Claus. Or maybe with the reddish glow on her Blood red robes she could be Satan reaping these poor, innocent, chicken souls for everlasting torment?

She stepped in something that didn't feel like firm ground, and was quite squishy.

Fucking hell.

Tonks convinced herself that she was doing it for Hagrid, Hogwarts School, and all the kids in it. She couldn't find any relation between roosters and a Basilisk that Wednesday morning at Hogwarts library, but Harry insisted on it in his note. It was so important that in the few precious minutes of consciousness he could spare, he decided to use it to scribe that note and underline those clues. Unfortunately, as of this time, early Thursday morning he was still out cold and the Hospital ward did not allow any more visitors the next day. If he could have only told her why they needed the roosters this might not have left such a gaping hole in her pride and maybe, just maybe, repair her shattered sense of 'wizard-relations-with-muggles' sense of morality.

She bit her lip as she tiptoed through substances she dared not shine her light on. There were dozens of birds sleeping here. Would the muggles raise a regional alarm if she took a few hens here, a few roosters there? Would the MLE hunt her down for Muggle-baiting?

Her target before she snuck in was four roosters, ten hens. She was going to follow through, she wasn't going to back down, damn it to hell.

At least no one actually saw her doing this. Tonks also had a great Nancy story to tell Hagrid when she offered to help him out with his coup. He'd be delighted that a past student would think of helping him out in such a fashion. Hopefully he would not press too hard and actually investigate if she 'had a distant relative on her father's side that reared chickens'.

Hopefully. She would absolutely die if Dumbledore somehow found out she was a Diabolical Cock Snatcher.

The things I do for those two...

She shone the light in a roost full of sleeping birds and got to work with a toned- down stunning charm.

Harry opened his right eye slowly. His brain felt foggy and his vision took a while to focus. Madame Pomfrey hovered over him, putting away a vial of potion.

"Harry, wake up dear," Pomfrey encouraged. "How are you feeling?"

"Drugged?"

"Expected. Take your time. I'll help you if you need to use the washroom."

The sun was bright and shining through the windows.

"What day is it?" Harry finally got his bearings.

"Thursday. The sedative lasts close to forty eight hours, to help with the discomfort. How does your eye feel?"

"Eye feels...scratchy. Confined. It's throbbing a bit." Harry gingerly touched the bandage covering the left half of his face. There was no spike of pain, only a sensitivity that was a bit more acute than he was accustomed to.

"Easy there. The eye is out of danger and is fully repaired, however it will take some time to heal and feel 'normal'. How is your vision in your right eye?"

"Where are my glasses?" Harry asked, patting the side table.

"You shouldn't need them," Pomfrey smiled. "Tell me if you can read the poster on the other side." She drew open the curtain and pointed to the far wall. There was a poster showing basic wand safety and steps to calming a spelled patient with particular symptoms.

"That's... nice.." Harry stuttered, momentarily pleased that he can see so well. "Yeah, I can read it."

"Excellent! Don't you fret, young man. Soon, everything will be ok," she smiled confidently.

Suddenly, a wave of self pity came over him. He almost died Monday. The fact that he could only look through his right eye cemented that in his brain. He looked down at his left arm. It was bandaged down to the wrist and in a sling. He simply stared at his fingers, which were slightly swollen and crusty looking. Right now, he felt very vulnerable. "How... is it?" he indicated his bandaged left arm with his right.

"Your arm? It has been fixed, and it should heal fully within another week. But for now, you must not use it and leave it in the sling. The healing process works better when the body accepts the magical procedure and finishes the strengthening stage naturally. You need to eat something. Are you sure you are ok, Harry?" Pomfrey asked again.

Harry didn't know how to answer that. He tried to wiggle his fingers and memories of the few seconds in the Defense classroom flashed behind his eyes. He squeezed his eye shut when the red hot spikes sunk into his face.

Phantom pain ran through his face and arm. He shuddered, keeping his eye shut tight, trying to push it away.

"What's wrong, are you in pain?" she enquired.

Harry shook his head, but did not answer or look at her. He just took deep breaths, trying to push aside the anxiety and calm his racing heart.

Complacent and cocky, Harry. You underestimated Lockhart. Just because you lived to seventeen before, doesn't mean you would make it that far again. Think! You've changed things! Everything is not the same as it was!

"I'm ok. Just a bad feeling. Memories of... this," he indicated the left side of his face. His right eye snapped open, focusing on Pomfrey's face. He scowled, his voice getting stronger. "It is nothing. I'm fine."

"You are sure, Mr. Potter?" she asked, her posture returning to the strict no-nonsense nurse mode.

"Yeah, I need to use the bathroom. And something to eat sounds good." Harry swung his legs over and put his bare feet on the ground.

"Very well. When you stand up, I need you to turn around slowly on the spot."

Harry frowned at the strange instruction. "Huh? Why?"

"It is to make sure your balance and motor skills were not affected." She drew her wand. Harry began to turn, then everything went haywire and he had no choice but to stumble back into bed. She ran a diagnostic spell and saw the basic health indicator charm flicker from green to yellow to red then back to green.

"Interesting."

"What's 'interesting'? " Harry muttered, a bit annoyed he was feeling so dizzy. He closed his eyes as he sat down. His head was spinning.

"You are showing undulating signs of poisoning, but... You aren't poisoned." Madame Pomfrey frowned. "Stick out your finger." Harry did and she tapped it gently with her wand. Harry felt a tiny pin-prick and a pearl of blood dangled from her wand. She deftly dropped it into a nearby test tube.

"One moment. Don't try to get up yet." She stepped to the cupboards and pulled out a few tiny vials.

"The health diagnostic spell shows what I expect to see of someone who was bitten by a snake. However," she dipped a drop of venom in the test tube with his blood. "It seems you are immune to poisons. Or venom on a whole."

"That's good, right?"

"Technically... yes. We medics always like to know why, though," she looked at him. "We also found phoenix tears in your blood. The most potent restorative there is. That could be it."

The Basilisk venom and the phoenix tears are in constant battle within me, it appears.

"So... Venom won't work on me. But... is my blood poisonous, or something?" Harry deflected.

"Heavens," she said, surprised. "I hope not. I must have gotten some on me during the past few days. However, I like your rationale... that is a good question though. Let me check. Finger again." She repeated the process and placed the drop of blood on a petri- dish. She then took out a bezoar and crushed it flat with a silver knife. Copious amounts of juice squeezed out. She scooped up the pulp and mixed it in the Petri dish with his blood.

The juicy pulp coated the blood but did not mix. Madame Pomfrey frowned.

"Your blood seems to have the same neutralizing and anti-venom properties of a bezoar. One more time. I am going to test your blood on a sample of poisoned blood." Madame Pomfrey drew a drop of her own blood and placed it in a clean petri dish. She took a vial of Cobra venom and used a dropper to place two drops on in the dish. The venom had an immediate and drastic effect on the sample. The blood thickened and turned into a dark, jelly substance.

"Finger again," she commanded. Harry offered his slightly sore finger. She took a drop using her wand and put it on her poisoned blood. Before their very eyes the venom was nullified and her blood turned back to its natural red colour and texture.

"I will have to look into this. But some other time. For now, take this. This is to help with your balance. Your visual and vestibular systems might have been affected during the surgery and may be throwing you off. It should ease up within the day."

She offered Harry a capsule with a glowing pink substance inside. Then she offered him a glass of water. After a minute, Harry felt the world become stable again.

"Let me help you over to the bathroom," she offered.

Harry gratefully accepted. He stumbled and shuffled his way slowly with her aid to the bathroom doors and further inside right up to the stall. He opened the door, and using his good hand to keep balance, was able to close it behind him with a kick. He felt like an invalid. Even though deep inside he knew he was lucky to even be alive, he was still embarrassed he needed so much help to reach the bathroom.

"I'll be outside. Let me know if you need help to make it back to the door." She left him and turned to leave.

"I'll be fine," Harry replied, trying to put confidence in his voice. When he was finished, he ambled slowly towards the mirror above the sink. He looked a mess with all those bandages and his hair sticking out from the top of his heavily wrapped face. For some reason he was reminded of the bandaged villain in the cartoon Dudley used to watch, Samurai X. He washed his hands and left the bathroom, taking careful, deliberate steps not to fall over again.

Madame Pomfrey was bustling about, changing sheets with efficient skill and cleaning up the laboratory desk area. She quickly cleared the pharmacy counter and discarded the test samples. She watched him carefully as he made his way back to his bed, unaided.

"A cane may be necessary. You will need to stay at least one more day, it seems," Madame Pomfrey said. "Your motor skills definitely aren't what they used to be. I'll release you tomorrow afternoon instead once I see improvement."

Harry's first response was to protest and reassure her that he was fine, even though he realized that was his inner rebel speaking. He knew damn well he was not ready to leave yet.

"Okay, no problem," Harry sighed. He looked around and realized that he was not the only one here in the ward.

"Who is that over there?" he pointed to the girl sleeping with a eye mask on. Her wrists and ankles were restrained and tied to the bed. Her hair was covering most of her face.

"Penelope Clearwater, a sixth year Ravenclaw. Confounded. Poisoned. And a memory jinx," she tsked. "She has been doing much better, I must say. We are hoping it wears off soon. Normal counters are not working, but progress has been positive and steady."

Crap. She must have gotten past his aversion and Notice-me-not charms by Myrtle's bathroom. She probably also set foot on the more severe Confundus jinxed-tiles. He'll need Jon to bring him his Fwooper tail wand to release her from its proprietary Confundus hex.

Then the Crow's Vambrace would need to get to fucking work on that snake Ellewyn-Sare.

"Damn. Sorry to hear that," he said with genuine sincerity. He will kill that fucker when he got a chance.

"No, no, never you mind that. That's what I am here for. You concentrate and focus on getting better. It wasn't your fault."

Harry felt even more awful now. He made a conscious effort to take her advice and concentrate on himself, so that he could help Penelope get better and then corner Michael with a proper dose of Veritaserum. Hopefully, with an Auror or two as witnesses. Speaking of cornering vermin, he had to devise a way to incriminate Peter and vindicate Sirius.

Once again he had to internally scold himself for being reckless, hasty, and not taking things one step at a time. He couldn't do all of that and deal with the chamber of secrets when at present moment he could barely walk. He sighed.

"What about the bandages? When would they come off?"

"Your facial bandage can come off tonight. The eye bandage will stay on until Monday evening. That definitely needs one week of no use to heal properly. The arm sling, that might be two to three weeks. You will need to come every night for checkups when you leave, and for re-dressing. Maybe pain killer, depending on if you move your arm too soon. I must stress, once again, do not use it. The flesh is still knitting and needs proper time and care to heal."

"Right." Harry's stomach grumbled something fierce. "You were talking earlier about food?"

"Yes. I'll have the elves bring something up. Come, have a seat at the eating area, Mr. Potter."

Harry shuffled across, and struggled to maintain balance to sit down. When he finally settled himself, another sudden bout of depression crashed like a wave over him. He sighed. Being injured and defeated once again in the hospital wing sucked.

RD

I just got back from visiting Harry. He helped your best friend's sister. Tomorrow both of them should be given the all clear to head back to their dorms. As it is the weekend, he asked for me to invite you again to the castle so we could talk about things. Walk with your Jet Black gloves and broom.

Mr. B.

Jon was sitting in the common room writing a letter to Tonks. It was eight o'clock, an hour and a half after dinner on the last day of classes that Friday evening. Surprisingly, a lot of students had made the trek with him. He recalled the events of the evening.

First, when he told Alexandria of his intention, she had offered to join him. He agreed and when they both stood up, Mistress Granger was quick enough to deduce where they were going and asked if Ron and herself could accompany them. Ginny shyly asked as well. Neville caught on when they left as a group. Katie called out from lower down the table and she immediately left her friends. Alicia Spinnet rose as well, curious about the procession her best friend was joining. Angelina saw her fellow chasers leaving and nudged Oliver to investigate. Oliver just had to make eye contact with the twins and those two knew what was up, and answered the summons.

Daphne came across to Neville as the group left the hall. She asked him a soft question and eventually the entire procession made a solemn journey through the halls, many other students whispering and giving them long, strange looks as they made their way.

Most of the students were in awe of Jon already. Word of the fight in the defense class had spread since classes resumed Wednesday afternoon. Basically, everyone knew Jon took out the defense professor who went barmy and in a murderous rage, sending Harry Potter severely injured to the hospital wing. Jon had acted as if he were merely taking out the trash instead of killing a grown wizard and saving the Boy Who Lived.

The dozen students swelled again, and was taking the shape of a small crowd when Hannah Abbot, Lee Jordan and Shea Carrow from Slytherin joined them a couple floors above. The only house not represented was Ravenclaw.

Hermione was silently counting the number of people about them when she whispered something to Jon.

"You think Ms Pomfrey would allow us all?" she asked.

"Is there a policy which prevents this?" Jon countered, not breaking stride.

"Not that I know of..." she said lamely.

"Then it is allowed. Allies and symbolism are important. The school, from this simple display of camaraderie, knows that we stand with him," Jon stated. The party eventually reached the doors. He turned to them and gave them a small head bow. "Thank you everyone. You honor him with your presence." He opened the door and held it open for everyone to file in.

Harry was seated at the eating table, reading an issue of witch weekly. When the first few students poured in, he had no chance to hide away the magazine. He smiled at Ron and Hermione then his smile grew into mute shock as the others kept pouring in. By the time Madame Pomfrey came to investigate, the walkways were crowded with well wishers. Since he wasn't bed-ridden and in no need of isolation, she simply explained the rules of the infirmary and not to cause any trouble. Harry greeted everyone and immediately asked Jon for his Fwooper wand that he had previously taken from his boots when they initially brought him in.

After about ten minutes of small talk, Harry shakily got up and asked the crowd to stay here for a minute while he went to check Penelope. Harry, Jon, Hermione and Katie went with him. Harry cast the special reversal of the fwooper-class Confundus charm on Penelope using his matching wand.

The result was immediate. Penelope stopped fighting against her restraints, and her head stopped twitching as if she were possessed. Her breathing became slow and even. Hermione put her hand to her mouth and stared at Harry with astonishment.

"Hey," Harry said after a couple minutes when her face relaxed. Penelope's eyes fluttered open. "You were hexed."

"I was?" she responded. She frowned at Harry's bandaged appearance. "Potter? What in the bloody hell happened to you?" she demanded. "Why am I- oh!" she looked down at the restraints on her wrists and ankles. She pulled at them. "Fuck. It was this bad? Asylum level restraints! Let me guess, my face is covered in scratches, huh?"

"Yeah. Absolutely. You look like you got makeup done by a werewolf or, probably a hippogryph." Her face was pale, but unblemished. Harry dipped his face lower to scrutinize her cheek and pointed. "Ooh. I could play tic-tac-toe on those N.E.W.T. level right-angle scars."

"Funny," Penelope retorted. Hermione smacked his arm. Harry grinned as he moved her hair from her face tenderly without even realizing what he was doing. Penelope didn't even flinch, just blew away a strand that was by her lip. He had to keep reminding himself that a normal twelve year old boy wouldn't just do these things. "What happened to you though?"

"The hippogryph and werewolf practiced on me first," Harry sighed. "I must say they did a much finer job with you, though. The training helped."

"We'd make a good couple, then," Penelope retorted, her scowl turning into a crooked smile. "But seriously?"

"Someone cursed Lockhart. Mind control. We got in a spot of trouble with him."

"I don't see him around," Penelope craned her neck to look at the other beds.

"He's six feet under. Aurors took him a few days ago." Harry said simply.

"Fuck!" she breathed.

"Yeah. Scary." Harry shook his head but Penelope got the feeling that Harry and Jon weren't even phased one iota that a professor was dead.

"You going to get me out, or what?"

"I'll call the healer," Hermione offered.

"Wait, Hermione," Harry said, his tone lowering and getting serious once again. "Penelope, do you remember anything?"

"The last thing I do remember is having dinner. With Michael. Where is he, by the way?"

"Ellewyn-Sare?" Harry prodded. "I don't know." But he might be officially 'Missing' when he was through with him.

"Yeah. Then... waking up here. What day is it?"

"Friday. After dinner."

"A whole week! I must look horrible!" she pulled at the restraints. "Ah! Can you please get this off?"

Harry nodded to Hermione. She walked off to fetch Pompfrey.

"Drink a lot of Camomile tea." He eyed the clothes hamper at the side of her bed stuffed with her scrunched up school robes. They were wrapped up in a clear plastic bag with official Auror labels on it. He levitated it further away from her. "And throw away those robes you wore Sunday. Don't get close to it without a proper stasis charm. In fact, I'll ask Jon here to do it for you," Harry strongly suggested. "Jon, use inciendo on them in a level three cauldron, alright?"

"It will be done, Harry of house Hollow."

Katie put together what he was saying and grabbed Harry's good arm, turning him to face her. She stared hard at him. "She got potioned, like me?" she hissed.

"I believe so," he whispered back.

"Jon?" Penelope asked, staring at the silent dark haired boy. "As in, Lord Black?"

"Just 'Jon' is fine, Mistress Penelope," Jon smiled.

"Mistress? Wha... ?"

"Don't mind him. He's weird like that," Katie explained.

"Oh. Ok. My sister told me about you two."

"Oh?" Jon asked. "Sarah? And what did she say?"

"Hm. You guys are some 'powerful motherfuckers' was the direct quote, if I recall. I laughed at her. I said Harry Potter could fly pretty good, considering he's only a firstie, but that's about it. She said, 'Oh, you got that right.' When I asked what she meant about that, she just shrugged but didn't say a thing. So... what did she really mean?"

The two boys looked at each other and shrugged. "Ah, that story might be best told... later." Jon folded his arms, a definite smirk on his face.

Harry grinned. "Let's just say your sister knows what she is talking about. But let's keep that between us, yeah?"

The Ravenclaw girl said nothing, but Harry knew that they loved to analyze hundred of meanings from vague responses. She just looked at both of them for a few moments. Harry could see the gears turning and the pieces coming together on the new puzzle in front of her.

"When you barged in, on the train... I really thought you were going to lose it when you saw us snogging. You said something about 'your' compartment, you were so certain of it." She smiled in a way that insinuated that some sort of jealously was involved. She looked between them and saw Pompfrey walking down the aisle. "She's coming."

"We'll talk later. Katie, let's go. Jon, handle the robes, mate. Anyone you wanna call to fetch you some fresh clothes?"

"Cho is my understudy. Cho Chang. I trust her more than my fellow sixth years right now," she frowned. "I'm not a typical 'Claw to be perpetually scared or paranoid, but I've just lost a bloody week of memories. Can you bring me some parchment and quills without Pomfrey knowing?" Penelope asked Katie softly so the approaching healer could not hear her.

"Sure," Katie replied. "I pop back in a little later."

"See ya," Harry nodded. He and Katie shifted and allowed Pomfrey to come check on Penelope. As they walked, Katie had to slow down her stride considerably to let Harry keep up.

"You're really banged up," Katie noted. Ah... that was smart. Great opener, stupid.

"'Tis just a scratch," Harry smirked, looking down at his feet as he concentrated on each step. Katie groaned in exasperation.

"A scratch. You look like a fifties movie horror patient," she teased. "Walk like Frankenstein too." Her words were meant to be humorous, but Harry sensed that Katie was genuinely worried about him.

"I do, don't I?" Harry laughed. "Well, the bandages on my face are coming off in the morning. A new face. And a few new body parts. Harry Potter 2.0; new and improved."

Katie stopped them before they joined the crowd. "You're impossible. I'm really glad you're going to be ok though." She ruffled the clump of hair poking out the top of his head, and ran her hand down to the back of his neck, touching the curls there. Harry felt a tingle when she touched the sensitive area of his nape. She patted him twice on his good right shoulder and pulled him in for a light hug. "Your friends are waiting." She smiled once again and walked off to join the others.

Harry watched her figuratively run away from him like if he was contagious. She said her goodbyes to the others without breaking stride and was out of the main doors seconds later.

He shook his head and shuffled along, careful not to lose his balance and collapse in a heap in front of the others.

Harry 's glorious return to his dorm Saturday before lunch was mundane and such a non-event that Harry felt a bit as if he were in the Twilight Zone. All of his other adventures before usually ended in either severe ostracism or on the other end of the scale, Hero worship. When McGonagall dropped him off inside the portrait a few first years simply avoided him, and a couple seventh years watched him slowly walk across the common room and up the stairs but said nothing. The majority of students were outside enjoying the last few sunny days of summer watching Quidditch tryouts.

Hedwig had delivered a letter on his bed.

RH