Chapter 16-Justifiable Violence

Chapter 16: Justifiable Violence

:I absolutely forbid it,: Tom snapped. Harry didn't realize you could snap in parseltongue, until then.

:Tom, I need to get to practice.:

:You already went twice, Harry, you had your fun. That's enough now. I will not have you risking your life for a game. Quidditch is dangerous, Harry. People die.:

:It's a school team, Tom.:

The man in the mirror hissed angrily. :It doesn't matter! I will not meet my end at the hands of a bludger!:

:You really have no faith in me, do you?:

:Not the point, Harry.:

"You know, Tom, this could end up furthering those goals you don't want to tell me about. Quidditch players are popular, you said so yourself. Winning games might make my housemates like me more...and I need them to like me, right? You said I need allies. I won't be getting any if they're all so suspicious of me,"he finished with a bit of a scowl.

Pain tickled Harry's scar, and Tom looked a bit indignant.

"Sometimes I think you forget your place, Harry. Do not forget how much you value my guidance."

:I know...I'm sorry...:

"You should not have to play games to garner loyalty. You have other tools at your disposal. Like fear."

"Maybe. But I don't want to be that kind of person. I don't want to hurt people, to scare them."

Tom narrowed his eyes. "Harry..."

"When was the last time a Hogwarts student died in a Quidditch game?"

"..."

"I thought so." He shook his head, trying to ignore the weakly pulsing pain in his scar. "People are more likely to do what I want if they feel like they owe me. That's something I've known for a long time, and I've never been proven wrong. They may be Slytherins, but they're human too."

"There are other ways of accomplishing this. You do not need to play Quidditch to acquire trust and loyalty. Why must you be so insistent on this?"

Harry sighed. "Tom, my dad played Quidditch, you know? Even if it's for the Slytherin team...I want to make him proud. Just this one thing, Tom, just this one thing. Please."

Tom looked at him for a long moment, disgruntled, and yet...there was something else in his eyes. What it was, he could not tell. "Do what you must."

Harry smiled brilliantly. "Thanks Tom!"

Harry could not keep a grin off his face as he strode down the dungeon corridors with a skip in his steps, the thought of flying again lightening his limbs. Harry loved flying. The crisp wind brushing his face and tousling his hair was invigorating, and being so far above the ground, moving so fast, could only be described as liberating. While Harry was flying he felt free – far above the troubles of his world, with a swift means of escape. And chasing the snitch – it was a challenge without stakes, an exercise in pure physicality.

Tom, on the other hand, hated flying. Well, he didn't hate flying, but he hated Quidditch. Tom was very displeased with his desire to join the Quidditch team, and if it weren't for how impressed Tom had been with him lately, he doubted he would have been allowed to even attend one practice, let alone two, and now a third.

At the beginning of the term, Harry had solemnly decreed that he didn't want Tom to help him with any of his class work; he appreciated Tom's help and everything, but he wanted to succeed at Hogwarts on his own merit. Tom seemed quite pleased with Harry's declaration, and had easily acquiesced, but not without a warning. If Harry didn't do well in his classes, or slacked off, there would be consequences. Which, of course, meant pain. Lots and lots of pain.

So between his desire to make Tom and his parents proud and his aversion to pain, Harry had lots of motivation to apply himself in all his classes, and he was quite pleased with the results. He had quickly surpassed all his classmates, and was almost always the first to accomplish whatever tasks his teachers assigned, with only a few exceptions...just about all of those exceptions occurring courtesy of one Hermione Granger.

Granger was...annoying. Interesting, amusing, but annoying. A know-it-all and teacher's pet of the highest degree, she was clearly used to being the best at everything...and with good reason. The muggleborn witch was both intelligent and skilled, and was always a few steps behind Harry, sometimes overtaking him completely.

Harry continually remained at the top of the class in Charms and Transfiguration, but he was always competing with Granger and Malfoy for first place in Potions - not that that was an easy feat. While Professor Snape seemed to like Malfoy well enough (well, he said 'like', but he really meant 'didn't completely hate'), Harry and Granger were not so lucky - Professor Snape hated them on principle. With Granger it was simple; she was a Gryffindor and a know-it-all, two things Professor Snape found incredibly annoying. With Harry, though...it was more complicated. He didn't yell at Harry often - because unlike the other students, he didn't give the Professor something to yell about - but Harry knew that his potions were marked more strictly than anyone else's. Not to mention, Professor Snape insulted his intelligence every chance he got (much to Tom's ire), and liked to call him out in class to answer questions about things they hadn't learnt yet. In a way, Harry appreciated it, because the fact that Professor Snape was so hard on him spurred him on to study Potions even harder...because unlike Granger and Malfoy, Potions didn't come quite as easily to him. On the other hand, Professor Snape's treatment of him saddened him greatly, because deep down, he felt like he deserved it. His Professor certainly didn't remember the visit he'd paid him one year prior, but Harry did, and still felt bad about tricking the man into letting him into his house so Tom could cast unforgivables on him.

Anyway, despite being a Gryffindor, Granger did quite well in Potions, and more academic subjects like History of Magic and Astronomy were still her domain. She was a good writer, and her essays showed as much.

As for Defence against the Dark Arts, Harry had had a slow start due to his headaches; they had been agonizing at first, making it impossible absorb anything class. They'd lessened over time...but it was still concerning. Tom said that he might be reacting to another horcrux in the vicinity, but he didn't really know what to make of the severity of his headaches either. Tom's theory also begged the question as to why Professor Quirrell would have a horcrux with him in the first place. Either way, it didn't really end up mattering, because with the aid of Madame Pomfrey's potions and his carefully crafted, shiny new occlumency shields, he'd pulled ahead to first in the class, an honour previously held by Granger.

So as irritating as he found Granger, he had to admit, she was a worthy rival, and he admired her audacity. Moreover, she seemed to have a kind heart, an eagerness to learn, and a desire to do her best in everything; despite her faults, he really did think quite well of her. He couldn't say the same for his housemates. They all seemed rather put off by the fact that a muggleborn witch was beating them in almost every subject, and Harry found the glances of relief he got every time he beat Granger rather amusing. Slytherins were...funny like that. Many of his housemates were rather snobbish and thought too well of themselves, in his opinion. Most of them were purebloods, and of those many were quite wealthy...which, of course, would not have been a problem were it not for the fact that they occasionally reminded him of the Dursleys and some of his old classmates just a bit too much. Malfoy especially seemed very used to getting what he wanted, and was quite accustomed to certain norms and patterns of behaviour, and didn't appreciate deviations from them. This created a lot of tension between them.

The boy was still sore over Harry's little fib at their first meeting (Harry knew that was going to come back to bite him), and had been trying to hex Harry on a semi-regular basis ever since. Granger and Weasley didn't seem to hold it against him (indeed, Weasley was still quite amused by his name game, and took pleasure in calling 'Harry Dursley!' and 'Tom Evans!' after him in the halls), so Harry was at quite a loss to explain the blonde boy's behaviour. Harry had managed to evade him thus far, and even Malfoy was too honourable (or perhaps just too proud) to hex him in his sleep, so he figured he was safe for now. He really hoped he didn't have to put up with seven more years of this, though. No, that was simply not acceptable. He'd have to mend things with Malfoy eventually, but he wasn't sure how to. Any conflicts he'd had with people in the past had been solved by avoidance, which was not an option here. Moreover, Tom was completely unhelpful because his answer to everything went along the lines of

"Fear breeds respect, and dominance peace."

Harry's other dormmates were a lot more tolerable. Crabbe and Goyle were fairly quiet, which he appreciated; they weren't too bright, and were a bit too thuggish for his liking, but they seemed to be loyal sorts, and they didn't really bother him unless goaded on by Malfoy. Zabini was, like Malfoy, a bit of a spoiled brat, but was not nearly as insufferable, and was much more mature. He was very skilled socially , Harry noticed; the boy exuded confidence and was quick to make friends (rather, friendly acquaintances) with the older students. He also made quick friends of the Slytherin girls in their year. He seemed rather sure of himself around girls, and Harry soon discovered that this was at least partially due to the fact that he lived alone with his mother.

The girls were...confusing. Harry'd never really known any girls before, and he found that he really had to be careful what he said around them. Davis was pretty practically minded, and seemed to have fairly thick skin (incidentally, she was the only half blood in the group), and Greengrass had a good head on her shoulders, seemed pretty smart, and definitely knew what she wanted. But Parkinson and Bulstrode...they were crazy. Bulstrode was inexplicably timid at the strangest of times, and tended to make strange, squeaky, girly noises when amused or startled, and Parkinson...she was just a whole new level of...everything. Snappy, easily offended, pompous, irritable, prone to mood swings - she was everything Harry didn't know how to deal with. They were just so...volatile. Not angry, and for the most part not ill-tempered, just volatile. He didn't understand them at all - and since Harry was perfectly sane, if he didn't understand them at all, they had have a few screws loose, right? As a whole, he'd decided that one of his goals for the year should be to learn to talk to girls without offending them or getting scoffed at. Tom hadn't been much help.

"I wish you luck. I really do."

But you're hopeless, was the unspoken conclusion. Harry knew he was mocking him.

And then there was Nott. Theodore Nott. The first few weeks following their encounter in their dorm room were tense, and had clearly left Nott unsettled. In fact, the boy was pretty scared of him for the first week. He'd made it clear that he wanted to maintain an amiable relationship with Harry (Harry still wasn't quite sure whether he liked him, or he was just impressed with him), but was easily startled by him, and even stuttered a few times when they spoke, which Harry later learnt was very uncharacteristic of him.

Eventually, though, the guilt wore on Harry just a bit too much, and one evening he took a very alarmed Theodore Nott aside for a little chat.

"So...I realize that we may have gotten off to a rough start..."

He could tell Nott wanted to scoff at that, but refrained.

"And it has occurred to me that it may seem like I've been blackmailing you..."

Another near scoff.

"But I want you to know that that wasn't...I didn't mean for it to come off like that. And I'm sorry. I went about this the wrong way, and I apologize."

Nott blinked, looking somewhat shocked.

"I'm sure you know about the...bad reputation surrounding...people like me, and I have a lot of people watching me...a lot of people who might get the wrong idea. There are lots of things that could go wrong if people found out...and I don't know if I can deal with that right now. I just want to stay out of trouble. I hope you understand."

Nott nodded slowly. "I...do."

Harry smiled brightly. "I'm glad. And I also want you to know that I won't hurt you, and you don't have to be scared of me. I don't like hurting people, especially you, because I like you."

Nott seemed very surprised by his earnest confession. "I...that...that's good. Listen, I still won't say anything, Potter. I'm not Malfoy – I'm not very keen on screwing you over. Personally, I think that the prejudice against...people like you is really poorly placed. There's nothing wrong with...what you are. I think it's rather brilliant, actually."

Harry's smile grew even brighter. "It makes me so happy to hear you say that! I'm really relieved, honestly. This is going so much better than I thought it would."

Nott looked a bit amused at that.

"So...I was hoping we could...start over. That's what people say, right? That they want to start over?"

Nott grinned at him, a bit. "Yes, Potter, that's what they say."

"Alright, then. My name's Harry Potter, but you can call me Harry. I'm very pleased to meet you."

"And I'm Theodore Nott, and you can call me Theo."

Harry had been ecstatic at his success. He did it, he actually did it! He had a friend, a friend who accepted him for who he was. He couldn't be more grateful.

For now, Nott was his only friend. He had a few friendly acquaintances, however. He often exchanged friendly greetings with Ron Weasley, who seemed to have gotten over the whole silencio-rictumsempra-flying rat incident, for which he was glad. The other boy seemed very good-natured and was clever in his own way. Moreover, he rose to the challenge of distinguishing himself among 5 older brothers very determinedly, which Harry admired. Neville Longbottom was also someone he remained on friendly terms with. The timid boy had taken some time to warm up to him, but after the incident with the rememberall, he had accepted the fact that Harry was, in fact, a nice Slytherin, and was really a pretty agreeable person, if he did say so himself. Terry Boot and Michael Corner from Ravenclaw also spoke with him from time to time, eager to pick up some of Harry's expertise in spell-casting. The two Ravenclaws were good conversationalists and intelligent company, and Harry...appreciated them.

As for the other Slytherins...they were cautious around him. Harry got the feeling that a lot of them still believed he didn't quite belong, what with the fact that he wasn't a pureblood, knew little of pureblood tradition and wizarding culture in general, and had Gryffindors as parents. It was kind of concerning for Harry, as Tom kept insisting that he needed to make allies within his own house. But that was where Quidditch came in. Harry was convinced that if he started winning his house some points, they'd come to appreciate him, and maybe even like him.

Not to mention, it was a lot of fun.

Suddenly finding himself outside, Harry smiled when he was startled from his musings by the fresh, cool, October air hitting his face, and allowed himself a moment of tranquility before he was interrupted.

"Potter! You're late!"

Harry smiled at his team captain sheepishly. "Sorry Flint, I was finishing an assignment. It won't happen again."

The older boy rolled his eyes, tossing him his broom.

"Wingardium Leviosa," the class recited, while Harry tried to keep a bored expression off his face.

He saw Theo glance at him with a frown. "You don't have to look so bored," he whispered, somewhat grudgingly.

Harry smiled at him sheepishly. "It's not purposeful, I promise."

"You already know this one too, then?"

Instead of answering, Harry pointed his wand at the feather lying on the desk, and said quietly, "Wingardium Leviosa."

Sure enough, the feather rose from its place on their shared desk, hovering in the air for a moment before gracefully descending.

"Look! Look everyone! Mr. Potter's done it! Five points to Slytherin!" their diminutive professor cried as Harry blushed a bit.

Theo obviously noticed the blush, because he sneered at him in that subtle, reflexive way he always did. "How you can be a show-off and modest at the same time completely escapes me."

"That's not purposeful either."

Meanwhile, he noticed Granger and Malfoy both glaring at him, as usual.

The rest of the class passed slowly, Granger attempting to assist her fellow Gryffindors after she had quickly mastered the spell as always. Harry felt bad for the girl. She obviously thought that assisting her housemates would win her brownie points, while it really only made them begrudge her even more.

This fact was evident when, while they rose from their seats, he heard Weasley chatting with Dean Thomas:

"It's LeviOsa, not LeviosA. Honestly, she's a nightmare. It's no wonder she hasn't got any friends!"

Harry sighed as the poor girl overheard the conversation and ran out of the classroom with tears in her eyes, while Malfoy snickered behind him. So many people, so many feelings...people were so complicated.

"I think that the non pondere jinx might be a good alternative," Michael Corner was saying as he, Terry Boot, and Harry entered the Great Hall, 15 minutes late for the Halloween Feast.

After Charms class the three of them had all approached Professor Flitwick with the same question; were there any levitation spells with shorter incantations? After all, it might not always be practical to enunciate "wingardium leviosa" in the middle of, say, a duel. The professor, thrilled with their question, had happily directed them to a number of books in the library, which they had been searching through for the last hour and a half.

Boot chewed on his lip a bit. "I don't understand why it's not a charm, though."

Harry shrugged. "From the reading I've done, it could be something as simple as the wand movements."

"You think that's it?" Boot said with a frown.

"Well, from what we read, it looks like using it's going to be more tiring too. Maybe that has something to do with it."

Corner raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Well, I'm thinking that the complexity of the wand movements might have something to do with the way the magic you put in is used..."

Corner grinned. "And maybe a lot of energy gets wasted somewhere!"

Harry nodded. "I think we'll have to do a little more research on the etymology to be sure."

Boot groaned. "Etymology? My Latin is rubbish."

Corner rolled his eyes. "You're just lazy."

"I'm not lazy. I just like to conserve energy."

"You know who might know something," Harry said, interrupting the beginnings of their friendly banter, "Granger."

Boot perked up a bit, at that. Harry thought he might have a bit of a crush on her. "Where is she, anyway?"

Harry looked around. "I'm not sure. Anyway, I'm going to go eat. We can finish this tomorrow."

"Yeah, see you Harry."

"Talk to you later, mate."

Harry smiled a bit as he approached the empty spot beside Theo at the Slytherin table.

"Hello everyone. Do any of you know where Hermione Granger is?" he asked immediately as he sat down.

Malfoy sneered and Zabini raised an eyebrow, like they usually did whenever he said anything.

"And what makes you think we'd know a thing like that?" Bulstrode sniffed, making another one of her squeaky sounds.

"She's probably still crying in the bathroom near the Charms classroom," Greengrass interjected, with a bit of a scoff.

He frowned as he dished some carrots onto his plate, somewhat concerned about the muggleborn girl's alleged behaviour. "Why would she be crying still? And why cry in the bathroom?"

Everyone just looked at him like he was being stupid. He hated moments like this, when he was the only one who didn't know something.

"Is...no one going to answer?"

"You know nothing about women," Theo sighed.

Harry blinked. "I don't know any women," he said, oblivious to the glares of the girls around him

"Never mind where where she is," Theo said, trying to diffuse the sudden tension that Harry was still quite oblivious to, "Where have you been?"

"The library."

His friend scoffed at him. "Of course."

"And what were you researching this time?" Zabini asked, the slightest bit of curiosity revealing itself in his voice. Sometimes he would randomly become interested in what Harry was doing, but Harry had a feeling the other boy just liked to know what everyone was doing for the sake of it.

Nevertheless, Harry perked up at the question, so excited that he nearly choked on the piece of ham he'd been chewing. "Alternative possibilities for levitation spells. You see, the levitation charm has an eight syllable incantation, which is rather on the long side. Now, say you are in a situation that requires quick thinking, and you need to levitate something. Pronouncing eight syllables, especially ones that are accented the specific way the levitation charm's are, could take too much time - Boot and I timed it, it's about two point three seconds. I have a theory, which is completely conjecture at this point, that because of our liberal use of gender and declensions in Latin the length of the incantation is independent from the etymology in that -"

"We get it Potter," Parkinson interrupted, unmistakable irritation practically dripping from her voice. "You're a genius. Now can you shut up about it?"

Harry frowned. "I'm not a genius. I just think a lot."

That earned him quite a few glares. Honestly. These people were so touchy.

"That came out a bit wrong. I meant to say I'm just curious. Weren't any of you puzzled over the fact that such a simple charm has such a long incantation?" Really, Harry had been wondering this for a couple of years now. He tried asking Tom, but was told to "figure it out himself", which indicated that he could figure it out himself - Tom liked to make him feel stupid, sometimes, but he never assigned Harry unreasonable tasks. Well, nothing too unreasonable anyway...

Theo rolled his eyes at him. "Most of us had enough trouble just casting the charm in the first place."

"Honestly, Potter, I don't know how you do it," Davis said as she piled more mashed potatoes onto her plate, "You're always the first person to get it right, and it's almost always on the first try!"

Harry smiled sheepishly. "Not always. Sometimes Granger beats me."

Everyone pointedly ignored that comment, so he switched gears. "The trick is to learn everything several weeks in advance."

Beside him, Theo snorted. "You say that as if it's a simple matter."

Harry refrained from commenting on that, and decided to switch gears again. "You got it pretty quickly, Parkinson."

The girl sat up straight, a smug look adorning her face. "It's all in the wand movements," she said primly.

Malfoy sneered again, at that, but said nothing. He had also figured the charm out pretty quickly, but Harry avoided addressing him directly whenever possible. Although, perhaps paying him a compliment might ease the Malfoy heir's dislike of him a bit...

But just as he was about to open his mouth to pay said compliment, the doors to the Great Hall flew open, and a very frazzled Professor Quirrell stumbled in.

"Troll! – in the dungeons – thought you ought to know."

And with that, the poor man lost consciousness and met the stone floor face-first.

Suddenly, the Great Hall was in an uproar, students darting to their feet and crying out in fear, confusion and disbelief - they were only silenced by the Headmaster's Sonorous charm. "Prefects," his voice rumbled across the hall, "Lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

Harry sighed as he rose to his feet as per the directions of the nearest Slytherin prefect. This was...unexpected. Actually – he frowned, as he followed the rest of the Slytherins out of the hall – it was rather suspicious. How did a troll end up in the castle? He'd never seen a troll before, but he was pretty sure they were rather massive, and stupid, on top of that. How did it get in? It couldn't, could it? Unless it had help...

He was suddenly snapped out of his thoughts by a startling realization. Granger didn't know about the troll. He remembered, Greengrass had said that she'd taken up residence in the bathroom closest to the Charms classroom (which was rather close to the dungeons), and would no doubt still be there, wallowing in her embarrassment (which he had, over the course of his brief meal, deduced was the reason for her absence). He glanced at at the Slytherin Prefect in front of him, Clara Rosier. She wouldn't care if Granger was in peril, she'd just want to make sure all the Slytherins were safe. One muggleborn student from Gryffindor wouldn't matter to her. What should he do? They were relatively close to the bathroom...if only he could find someone to ask for help...

He blinked. Wait, why did he need help? All he had to do was warn Granger. Yes, that shouldn't a problem, he thought, as he cast the disillusionment charm over himself and slipped away, unnoticed by the rest of the Slytherins.

Once in the clear, he sprinted back around the corner and down the hall, growing alarmed when he heard an angry growl in front of him.

Well, that couldn't be good.

Bursting into the bathroom, he found Granger backed up against the wall, terrified, with tears running down her face, as the troll - a horrifyingly ugly creature no shorter than four metres - waddled over to her, knocking sinks and stall doors from the walls, growling stupidly amidst the hissing of ruptured pipes as it approached her.

His eyes widened. "So that's what a troll looks like," he said curiously.

The troll let out another growl, and he was startled to attention. "Granger!" he shouted, "I'll distract it, then you run past!"

The terrified girl nodded frantically, as Harry steeled himself and called out, "Bombarda Maxima!"

The troll was thrown to the side, and Granger took the opportunity to scramble past it, over to Harry.

"You ok?" he checked.

She looked at him, horrified. "No! And neither are you! We're being attacked by a troll!"

Harry's eyes widened as the troll got to its feet at a surprising speed and began to run toward them.

Oh dear. Oh no. A troll was charging him. Seriously, a troll was charging him. What do you do when a troll is charging you? Fear was flowing over his tense body like ice water, and he didn't have time to think.

Make it bleed.

Oh, that could work.

"Diffindo!"

A moment later, he and Granger were covered in troll blood, as the giant creature fell to its knees and its newly detached head bounced off to the side.

Well that was...a very overpowered severing charm.

Poor Granger was hyperventilating at this point. She stared at him with owlishly wide eyes. "You just...decapitated a troll."

Harry nodded slowly. "So I did..." he said, a little stunned himself. "I don't really know whether to feel self-satisfied or saddened by it's untimely demise," he said frankly, as the muggleborn girl stared at him as though he'd sprouted a second head.

Just then, a torrent of loud footsteps approached the bathroom, preceding the arrival of Professor McGonagall, and behind her Professor Snape and Professor Quirrell. Taking one look at the headless and very dead troll, the squeamish professor let out a whimper and collapsed onto a pile of rubble. Whilst Professor Snape only glanced coldly at the children but went on immediately to examine the troll, Professor McGonagall full-on glared at them.

"What on earth were you thinking of?" she said, with cold fury in her voice. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory?"

Professor Snape, who seemed to have finished inspecting the troll, turned to Harry and Granger also; his face was stoic, but Harry could tell that there was rage underneath, along with no small amount of curiosity.

Suddenly, a small, shaky voice spoke up, drawing everyone's attention to Granger. "Please, Professor McGonagall – he was looking for me."

"Miss Granger!"

Granger managed to steady her legs, and stepped forward, face red with shame. "I went look-"

Harry, realizing that Granger was going to take all the blame, quickly interrupted. "Granger was feeling ill after Charms, and didn't make it to the feast. She hadn't heard about the troll. I realized this, and thought I should alert her to the danger...I know it was foolish, but I was terribly worried about her."

Professor McGonagall turned her disapproving glare straight back to Harry, before Granger spoke up again. "If he hadn't found me, I'd be dead now for sure. He didn't have time to come and fetch anyone. It was about to finish me off when he arrived."

"Well – in that case…" said Professor McGonagall, her unwavering glare still fixed on Harry, "Five points from Slytherin, for directly disobeying the headmaster and going off on your own without a teacher…"

Harry sighed, resigned.

"But ten points to Slytherin, for caring for the well-being of a student not even in your own house. And for sheer dumb luck."

Harry smiled. "Thank you pro-"

Her glare shut him up.

He glanced over at Professor Snape, who was still scowling at him menacingly, and did his best to look very, very guilty.

"Now," Professor McGonagall huffed, "I want both of you to report to the hospital wing immediately."

"Yes Professor McGonagall."

"You're lucky you weren't killed," Madame Pomfrey was saying as she checked Granger over for injuries. She sighed. "Very lucky indeed, Miss Granger. Just the split lip, then."

Granger nodded dejectedly.

"Now, now, none of that. It's nothing a little magic can't fix."

"I can do it!" Harry piped up from behind them, a bright grin on his face. "I remember the spell you taught me, Madame Pomfrey!"

The woman smiled at him softly. "Well, what do you say, Miss Granger?"

Granger blushed. "Sure," she said very quietly.

Still smiling, Harry pointed his wand at her. "Episky!"

And with that, the cut vanished, leaving Granger somewhat dumbstruck. "That's it?"

Madame Pomfrey looked at her with amusement. "That's it. Now off you go. You deserve a full night's rest, after what you've been through."

Granger thanked her with a smile, and when she turned around to leave, Harry made to follow her.

"Not so fast Mr. Potter," the matron said sternly.

Harry smiled sheepishly. "I'm actually not hurt at all Madame Pomfrey. It was just Granger. The troll didn't get anywhere near me."

"Be that as it may," the woman said, "I can't have you leave just yet." Her face softened. "How have you been, Harry?"

He tried to keep his face from falling at the question. "I've been fine, ma'am."

The matron frowned. "And your headaches?"

"Nearly gone." He smiled. "Barely notice them anymore."

"Well, I'm glad to hear it, but I was hoping...we could have another chat," she said, gesturing to one of the chairs beside her.

"Alright," Harry said uneasily as he sat down.

"Have you been eating enough?"

"I think so, ma'am."

She nodded slowly. "It looks like you've gained some weight, which is certainly a good sign. But Harry...I still am at a loss as to how to explain why you needed to gain weight at all."

Years of going to bed without dinner will do that to a person, I guess.

"I just, forget to eat sometimes, I guess."

"And your Aunt and Uncle, they don't remind you?"

Of course they don't - they wish I'd just starve to death.

"They're really busy."

The woman nodded slowly. "And were they also too busy to get your wrist set properly?" she asked carefully.

Of course, they're always too busy for me.

"I told you, ma'am, they didn't know about it."

"But how could they not notice, Harry?"

They did notice, they just didn't care.

"Uncle Vernon works a lot, and Aunt Petunia has to take care of Dudley. He's a lot of work to take care of, you see." He made a face and added in a stage whisper, "He's not very bright."

"And the ribs, Harry? You can't tell me they didn't notice that."

Harry hesitated. He knew exactly what he wanted to say. Because even though he had Tom with him always...sometimes the emptiness that he could see, hear, and touch was more real than his best friend. When faced with tangible hatred and rejection, sometimes words that only existed in his head didn't save him from the pain. Sometimes knowing Tom was there wasn't enough.

They hate me.

They wish I was dead.

Sometimes, they've made me wish I was dead.

When I'm with them, I feel worthless.

When I'm with them, I'm just a freak.

When I'm with them, I'm alone.

Please let me leave.

Please help me.

But he couldn't. Tom made it clear that the Dursleys were crucial to his plans. The fact that they didn't care where Harry was and what he did allowed him to move about freely, running Tom's errands for him with relative ease. He couldn't afford to leave. Tom's plans would grind to a halt, and then where would they be? He had no idea, but Tom seemed to, and made it clear that they couldn't afford to be in such a place at all.

Besides, it wasn't that bad. It really wasn't. After all, Tom didn't have it much better, at the orphanage. If he could do it, Harry could too. He just had to be strong. It really wasn't that bad. This stuff happens to loads of kids, right? He was just weak. He just had to try harder. He just had to be strong.

They're just muggles.

They can't hurt me.

I'm stronger than they are.

I'm strong.

"That was my fault, Madame Pomfrey. The doctor gave me instructions, he told me to stay in and rest, but I went out to play instead. My cousin accidentally tripped me, is all."

The old woman in front of him seemed to wither slightly at his words, the lines on her face growing deeper and her eyes more tired. "If you insist, Harry."

He nodded, putting on his best smile. "You really have nothing to worry about Madame Pomfrey. I'm fine. My family loves me, and they really do take care of me. Accidents happen, is all."

The matron sighed. "Very well, Harry. You may leave."

He forcibly widened his smile as he rose to his feet. "Thanks Madame Pomfrey! You have a good night."

"And you as well, Harry."

He turned to leave.

"And Harry...when you're ready to talk, please do come to me. I'll always be here."

"Of course."

His false smile bled off his face as he walked away, and as he rounded the corner, he almost burst into tears. He hated these 'chats'. It was the third time Madame Pomfrey had interrogated him, and the third time he'd had to lie to her face while everything inside him screamed at him to tell the truth. He didn't understand why he felt so conflicted - he knew what he had to do. So why was it so hard? Why did it hurt so much to lie?

His heart was thudding in his chest as he hurried down the multitude of stairwells leading down to the dungeons, and the sound of blood pumping in his ears drowned out even his footsteps. He needed to get away. He needed to be alone. He needed his bed. He needed Tom.

When the door to the common room was in sight, he sighed in relief, and a smile almost made it onto his face when he uttered the password.

"Animam Puritate."

Unfortunately, his relief was short-lived.

"Hey Potter," Malfoy sneered at him, barring his way immediately as he entered the common room, no shortage of eyes on him.

He sighed, steadying his breathing as best as he could. "Yes, Malfoy?"

"I heard you went running after that stupid mudblood Gryfindork, Granger." Word travels fast at Hogwarts, apparently.

Harry did his very best to keep his face neutral and raised an eyebrow. "And?"

Malfoy looked at him smugly, as Harry's answer had garnered them some more attention. "That kind of behaviour is not appreciated in Slytherin House, Potter. Would you care to share why you'd risk your life for a mudblood?"

"Not really."

"Don't walk away from me, Potter!"

The whole common room was staring at them now.

"As you wish, Malfoy."

"That's what I like to hear. Now, would you like to explain why you no doubt lost us points for a mudblood? Does she remind you of your mother, Potter? She was a mudblood too, wasn't she?"

"Don't talk about my mother," Harry snapped, feeling too exhausted and stiff from nerves to humour the boy.

"Why not? Does it hurt your feelings?" Malfoy mocked.

Harry grit his teeth. Why was Malfoy so irritating?

"That's it, isn't it? Your mother – are you ashamed of her, Potter? Are you ashamed of the fact that she was a mudblood who-"

"Do not finish that sentence, Malfoy." There was something hot and nearly boiling in his chest, some strange feeling he'd never felt before, raising his heart rate as it simmered beneath the surface.

The boy grinned at him maliciously. "Or what?"

Or what? Or what? How dare Malfoy underestimate him! He'd shown himself to be capable, he'd won his house so many points, and disarmed the other boy many times already, and still Malfoy thought him to be weak! And still insisted on insulting him! After all he'd done for him, after all the times he'd shown him lenience, and looked the other way. After how kind, patient, and merciful he'd been...how stupid was the boy? How ungrateful, rude, insulting, cruel...

That was when the feeling in his chest reached boiling point.

Harry was just as surprised as everyone else when a sickening snap interrupted their conversation, and Malfoy's grin bled off his face, replaced by horrified pain. His face paled drastically, and he fell, moaning and crying out as his leg collapsed at an eerily wrong angle.

It was broken. Harry broke it.

Suddenly aware of the spectacle he had made and the gasps circulating the Common Room, Harry froze. What had he done? Was that him? Of course it was. He'd been angry...too angry. He lost control. Lost control of what? What could he possibly lose control of? It was that feeling, he knew it. That wonderful, terrifying feeling that had been there, boiling furiously, only to evaporate a moment later.

What was that?

He panicked, suddenly afraid and feeling very guilty about breaking the boy's leg (even though it was an accident, he swore it was). Everyone had seen them - he'd lost his temper in front of everyone. Would they be afraid of him? Hate him? Ridicule him for losing his cool? He had to do something...

But what does one do at a time like this?

Fix it.

Taking a deep breath, he slowly walked over and looked down at the whimpering boy sadly.

"Or," he said with a soft voice, all his previous anger and indignation completely drained from it, "Nothing. I won't threaten you, Malfoy. I trust you are intelligent enough to understand what will happen next time you speak out of turn like that."

Malfoy gasped, doing his best not to cry.

"Next time, I take out my wand."

The other boy looked at him with unconcealed fear in his eyes, as Harry knelt down beside him, drawing his wand and pointing it at the boy's leg.

"Episky."

Luckily, seeing a it was a nice clean break, the simple healing charm did the trick.

He looked up at Malfoy with a remorseful frown. "I'm sorry for hurting you."

And with that, he nearly ran out of the Common Room, doing his best to ignore the stunned stares he left behind him.

"You're really terrifying, you know," Theo would say to him later. Harry was sure that the other boy didn't realize how hurtful that statement really was.