"Nothing," Davis said frustrated, throwing the small plastic slip onto the desk Harry was working at. "Nothing turned up on the tests I ran on that hair. The examination seems to conclude that the hair is non-existent. The cells seemed to have shut-down, they're unreadable. I just don't understand it."
Harry sighed at the new dead end. They weren't getting anywhere with the attacks, all the leads turned out to be nothing. Harry gave a sympathetic but appreciative smile at him and Davis returned to the more secluded area of the library, locking the entrance as he went. Harry returned to studying the book in front of him, Stream Plants by Hydromeda Bushela. He was scrutinizing the detailed images of Fluxweed, so that he could recognise it when he went looking for it.
It was growing dark outside the castle, grey clouds scudding across the sky. When Harry sighed for the fifth time he concluded that it was the right time to return to the common room. He began packing his books into his already bulging schoolbag until he heard his name whispered from somewhere in the library. He paused, his head positioned as if he were listening, then he carefully placed his bag on the table and moved closer to the shelf of leather-bound books. Gently removing a book from the shelf he peered through the gap he had created. A group of students were huddled around a desk, murmuring together in anxious voices. Every now and again, a blonde-haired boy would glance around furtively. He seemed to be the one doing most of the speaking.
Concentrating intensely on what he could hear, his hearing increased and a blast of noise erupted in his ear. Then it ceased and he could hear a commanding voice addressing the others. "Of course it's Potter! Who else could there be? Hermione Granger," he joked. There was a murmur of laughter in the group until the boy started again. "She's an intelligent witch but I don't think she's capable. She is too well-known with the teachers. Answering all those questions every time they're asked. But Potter…he is different. He's just as smart as she is, maybe even more, but he doesn't flaunt it. He keeps to himself. I rarely hear him even speak. There is only one word for somebody like that."
"What is it?" Susan Bones asked innocently.
"Dangerous," he replied dramatically. "People can't survive that long, living like that. I heard he went to live with these really abusive muggles…who hit him and stuff," Harry's hand trembled slightly and he grabbed the shelf to stop it. "And then all that business with You-Know-Who…"
"Exactly," interrupted Susan. "If he defeated You-Know-Who then why would he be the Heir of Slytherin. Surely being the saviour of the wizarding world means that he is good. Ernie, what you say makes no sense whatsoever."
"Ah, but that is where we have to start the guess work. You-Know-Who sought out Potter. Now why would he do that?" Harry could make out the puzzled looks of the surrounding students. "Here's my theory. You-Know-Who received information of a new Dark Lord who would fight him for his control of the wizarding world. So he set out to destroy this young Dark Lord before he became a fully fledged tyrant. And voila, his plan goes amiss and now we have Potter. He must have some sort of sixth sense, where he can tell whether you're pure-blood or muggle born."
Looks of fear and terror swept across the faces of the assembled group. Harry felt his blood boil at Ernie's cruel words. The anger coursing through his body blinding his rational thought. He took a deep breath and he calmed slightly.
"Well I for one am not afraid of him," Ernie announced pompously. "I come from a long-line of pure blooded wizards and will not discredit my ancestry by bowing down to a reckless twelve-year old."
Harry finished zipping up his bag and then threw it roughly over his shoulder. In order to exit the library he would have to pass the scared second-years by. He stormed around a corner and into the aisle of books. The group instantly leaned away from each other and averted their eyes. Ernie grew extremely pale but remained standing. Harry had his head bowed, his eyes darkened in the dimness of the library. He shoved past Ernie which earned him a frightened retort.
"I'm not afraid of you," he repeated, trying to reassure himself. Harry halted his progress down the aisle. He spun around, his eyes landing on Ernie. "You don't know anything. About me, about my life or about the attacks. You're just a scared little boy who needs someone to blame," Harry said dangerously.
Ernie face twitched. "I know it's you, Potter. You attacked those muggle-borns and you're trying to silence me now. It won't work. I'm not afraid of you."
"If I wanted to kill you, you would already be dead." Not the most tactful of sentences as it didn't alleviate the situation, but Harry gained a slight sense of pleasure from it. He took a step closer to Ernie, who was visibly quivering with fear. Shadowed green eyes bore into wide blue ones flickering with terror.
Harry remained in that intimidating position until he felt Ernie was ready to move, he then took a step back, waved casually to Susan, and left through the library door. Harry's thoughts were still on Ernie and his followers so that he wasn't aware of where he was walking. Not until he walked smack into someone. Harry glimpsed a bag going flying through the air before he fell in a heap to the ground.
He immediately picked himself up off the cold stone floor and twisted to see who he had walked into. A girl, Harry suspected to be a sixth year, chuckled in amusement. She wore heavy mascara and a profound ruby lipstick. Her dirty blonde hair, with deep roots suggesting it was cheaply highlighted, framed her slightly rotund cheeks. Even though she was somewhat plump, she had a beautiful, inviting glow. Her giggling revealed her brilliant white teeth. "Aw, sorry," she said in an East London accent. "Wasn't really lookin' where I was goin'."
Harry remained silent as he gathered her fallen possessions and replaced them in her bag. "Thanks. You're a right gentlemen you are," she complimented, taking her bag which Harry offered. "So I finally get to meet Harry Potter. What a day, eh? First David Carmichael asks me out and now I get to meet the great Potter."
Harry blushed slightly in embarrassment. "I'm not great, I'm just Harry."
"Well then, `just Harry', my name is Abigail. But don't call me that," she cautioned. "It's Abby. Abby Cole. Easy to remember. If ya forget, I'll have to kill ya," she said before bursting into fits of laughter.
"You're nothing like I thought you'd be. I'm muggle-born so I had no idea who ya where before I came here. A mate o' mine pointed you out last year. I thought `now there's no saviour, he's just a scared boy'." She stopped with a pensive gaze at Harry, a hand on her curving hip.
"So `just Harry' was I right?" she asked in a playful tone, hiding the curiosity in her voice.
Harry took a deep breath, buying time. "I suppose, last year…yeah you'd be right. But time goes on, people change, feelings change. I was terrified…now I'm not."
"But…" she whispered mysteriously "you're still scared." She leaned forward so their faces were nearly touching. "It alright to be scared. Especially at the moment. Nearly every witch, wizard or ghost is frightened out of their wits. I'm worried about my friends and the only thing that keeps me going is that they're just as worried about me." She smiled sweetly and moved back. Harry let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been keeping. He had no idea why but he felt intimidated by her, not in the sense that he was scared…but that she knew something he knew.
"What year are you in?" Harry enquired. Abby grinned at the sudden shift of atmosphere. "Sixth year. Finished my O.W.L's last year. Did okay, not brilliant but it was enough. Got through in Potions, I was right shocked. So another two years with old Snappy Snape. Hates me he does. Thinks I'm right mouthy…" she said this all very fast and the pause seemed longer than intended. "Of course I am mouthy. Cheeky at times but with him its hard not to be impolite. Breathing seems to offend him." She giggled again this time Harry joined in with a slight laugh.
"Ah so he does smile," she added feigning awe. "You looked miserable a few moments ago. So what had you down?"
"Oh, nothing. Just some students…idiots," he laughed nervously.
"Point them out to me. I'd give em a right seein' to," she offered. "What've they been sayin' anyway?"
"That I'm the Heir of Slytherin," deadpanned Harry. He didn't want their musings to get to him, but he couldn't stop his feelings of disappointment in his peers. "Which I'm not," he added.
Abby let out a roar of laughter again, nearly falling to the ground. This made Harry grin at her. "You…the Heir of Slytherin. I would've already been murdered by now. Don't listen to them Harry. They're just afraid and they need someone to be afraid of. That's all."
"Thank you, Abby," Harry nodded gratefully.
"No probs," she replied. "So Harry, I better be off. Got a Divination diary thing. I don't even know what I'm doing, just guessing I suppose. I'll see ya around and take care of yerself."
She hugged Harry vigorously nearly lifting him off his feet, planted a kiss on his cheek and ruffled his already tousled hair. "Bye," Harry said, slightly dazed.
"Hey Harry what's with the lipstick?" George Weasley asked mischievously. Harry paused mid-way climbing through the portrait hole. He furiously wiped the cheek where Abby had kissed him. Hermione, who was seated on the couch, immediately looked up, then averted her gaze to her homework. "Nothing," Harry responded "I just met a girl, Abby, and she was…friendly."
"Oh, we thought you'd got yourself a girlfriend. You're a bit behind to be honest Harry. Abby…do you mean Abby Cole? Cause that kind of fits. That child hugs and kisses anything that stays still for a more that a second. But she is nice. Really nice. And unbelievably friendly. Very…eh…sociable."
Fred nodded in agreement. "I dated her last year…for about a week. Tremendous kisser…great arse…particularly…"
"Please stop," Harry pleaded taking a seat beside Hermione. Hermione smiled kindly and offered her handkerchief so he could wipe the remaining lipstick from his face. It was then that Ginny stepped into the common room, looking confused and baffled. Every head around the fire turned to look at her, some with bemused expressions.
"Hey Gin…you lost?" George said earning a mumble of laughter. "Have you been drinking again? Cause our parents are gonna kill you if the teachers find out?"
"No, No I'm fine," she replied numbly before leaving through the girl's staircase. Harry peered pensively in the direction she had just left. "She's been acting odd recently. Like she's lost something," he said thoughtfully.
"Yeah…her marbles. She used to only act weird around you…now it's all the time," Fred pondered. Harry's reflected on the last few meetings he had with Ginny and realised Fred was indeed right.
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"We better go or we'll be late," Hermione admonished as Harry placed his wand in his pocket. They were preparing for the Duelling Club and Harry was curious to know what they would learn. He suspected just the basics but it depended on who would teach them. Hermione was seated on Harry's bed playing with his duvet cover while Harry pulled on a jumper.
Ron was at his own bed rooting through his suitcase for a spare pair of socks. "At least we don't have to wear our uniforms. They can get awfully…unventilated." Both Harry and Hermione laughed at his choice of words. After Harry had successfully pulled on his greying hoody, the three of them made their way to the Great Hall.
A large wooden square platform was suspended in the air above the milling students. A rickety ladder led to the platform and perched midway up the ladder was a grinning Lockhart. Harry sighed and ran a hand through his dishevelled hair. Hermione eyes lit up while Fred and George whined about the quality of teachers these days. "Welcome to the new Hogwarts Duelling Club. Due to the misfortunate attacks of the last few weeks, we've decided to ease some peoples fears by teaching them to defend themselves."
"Now, we'll start with a simple Disarming Charm. Let me please introduce my assistant, Professor Snape." Lockhart scaled the rest of the ladder, while explaining some Duelling tips and some history on the admirable sport. Then he scrambled onto the platform. The raised stage lowered so all the students could see Lockhart facing Snape. Snape bared his teeth, his pallid face curtained by his greasy hair, his dark eyes barely visible. "Note our positions, and our concentration," Professor Lockhart roared to the crowd.
"On the count of three. One…Two…THREE!!"
There was a dazzling flash of scarlet light and Lockhart was sent hurtling through the air. He skidded across the platform, earning a few screams from the girls. Harry threw his head back slightly and folded his arms. Hermione whimpered, her fingers covering her mouth. "He's fine," Harry reassured her as he watched Lockhart stumble unsteadily to his feet, his wavy hair standing on end. Snape smirked unpleasantly, his lip curling baring more menacing teeth.
"Its alright kids. I'm fine," yelled Lockhart. "What a wonderful display of a Disarming Charm…of course if I wanted to prevent it I would have. Saw it a mile off. Now does anyone want to volunteer to have a try themselves. Perhaps against Professor Snape." Nearly every student backed away from his gaze. Some of them gasped and Harry heard Fred and George muttering about how crazy someone would have to be to face Snape in a duel. As Professor Lockhart went to replace his hat, the students grouped together and started conversing with each other. "Duelling with Snape, can you imagine?" Ron asked incredulously.
"I wouldn't say he'd hold back anything," Seamus said. "Just rip you to pieces."
"Well if I had to duel with any of the teachers, I wouldn't choose him," added Hermione.
"I heard Flitwick was a Duelling champion so I wouldn't pick him. Nor McGonagall. Wouldn't mind Lockhart. What about you Harry?" Ron asked.
Harry didn't answer, his eyes focused on the rigid form of Snape. "Harry, don't you dare," Hermione admonished. "You cannot possibly be thinking about this." Harry started shoving his way through the mingling crowd. A group of fifth years who were standing near the ladder, pointed warily at him and stepped back as he drew closer. "Harry…this is madness," Hermione shrieked, seizing his arm. As Lockhart started to address the gathering, Snape glared at Harry from high up on the platform, Harry returned the glare fiercely.
"He won't hold back on you," Hermione hissed, trying to tug him away from the ladder. "Hermione," he yelled abruptly spinning around to face her. "It's time someone showed him that the way he treats people isn't right."
"How do you plan to show him that?" she retorted. "By letting him hurt you!"
Harry bit his lower lip, before pulling away from her grasp. He ascended the ladder with speed. Lockhart descended the ladder, telling them they needed more space. "Well, well Potter. Another brave attempt to show off," Snape sneered.
Harry silently removed his wand from his pocket and repeated the position he had seen Snape take only a few moments ago. Lockhart counted down again, the students held their breaths in anticipation.
Breathing deeply, Harry closed his eyes. He could still sense Snape facing him and the anxious but excited mass of students. At the count of three Harry's eyes flew open and red beams of light shot from each of their wands, ricocheting off each other. Harry dodged the rebounding spell then cast another.
"Impedimenta," he screamed. Snape used his wand to avert the spell, which connected with a windlass above the platform. With an abrupt jolt, the timber platform rose higher above the ground not unlike an elevator. The two of them circled the platform, their eyes trained on each other. "Expelliarmus," Snape roared unexpectedly.
Harry felt an inescapable pressure in his stomach as he was flung through the air and collided with the platform. He slid across the wood and felt solid ground disappear as his legs slipped over the edge of the platform. At the very last minute he clutched the side of the stage with his fingers, his legs dangling dangerously over the drop to the floor of the Great Hall. He heard the crowd take an intake of breath and gritted his teeth as the pressure built in his fingers. With a roar of pain he lifted himself until, using his elbows he could roll onto the stage. He heaved a sigh of relief, his forehead dripping with sweat.
"It's over, Potter. I win," Snape declared idly, his wand pointed where Harry lay panting. Harry's wand was directly beside Snape's foot. There was a pounding in his ears as his heart rate rocketed, a voice telling him to continue the duel, to take it as far as he could. "Really," Harry said doubtfully. He held up his hand, palm facing outwards and his wand flew across into his grasp.
"Incendio," he yelled causing Snape's robes to catch fire. Snape wheezed in fright, took a step back and tripped over the flaming robe. He grunted as the orangey tinge turned to a deeper crimson and flared higher. Harry watch almost transfixed as Snape just remained motionless on the wooden floor. Seeing Snape was reluctant to extinguish the flames Harry did. It was only then that Harry pondered the thought that the villainous Professor Snape had an indisputable fear. Fire.
"Just like daddy," Snape hissed. "Never finishes the job." He tottered to his feet, nose flaring with anger. He was absolutely incensed.
"Why do you always involve my father? Is that what this whole thing is about? What he supposedly did to you?" Harry roared back. Both wizards remained in a fighting stance as they glowered at each other.
"You don't know what your father did?!" Snape screamed.
"You're right…I don't. Do you know why?" Harry asked, yelling manically. "Because I never knew him! He died before I could talk to him…before we could have those sentimental conversations that really matter. Just because I look like him doesn't mean I am him… I may resemble him but I'm not him. Why can't you see that?! I'm not my father," he bellowed.
There was complete silence on the platform. Snape appeared to have conceded his stance. His shoulders were slumped and he stumbled back, grabbing one of the bulky ropes that held the platform up. It was inevitable, at least to Harry, that this exchange would eventually happen. That Harry wouldn't be able to maintain a calm exterior around him forever. Snape had shoved and drove Harry way over the edge and finally, at the end, Harry had fallen.
"You never gave me a chance…in my entire existence at Hogwarts, you never once gave me even the slightest chance. Your mind was well made up before I reached this castle. Was it just my father?" he cried. "Or was it something else?"
Snape opened his mouth to say something. The fierceness that usually occupied his face had vanished to be replaced by a forlorn and confused expression. He closed his mouth, completely devoid of words as he watched Harry wheeze from his little trip over the side of the platform and their modest screaming match. Harry placed his hands on his knees, bent over and coughed uncontrollably. His stomach was still reeling from the forceful Disarming Charm. He felt as if his lungs had been crushed.
Suddenly there was a crunching noise heard from overhead. Harry was aware of the floor beneath his feet sloping before he tumbled backwards. One of the ropes had collapsed so that the platform was suspended unevenly by the three remaining supporting ropes. Harry's head collided violently with the floor, before he found himself again dangling treacherously over the platform, his wand left his hand, rolled down the platform and clattered to the floor. Blood trickled into his squinted emerald eyes as his hands desperately felt around for a source of grip. He grasped the metal fastening which the forgotten rope had previously been attached to.
Down on the ground Professor Lockhart was furiously trying to repair the damaged stage. He tried shooting spells at the rope in ruins but they didn't have any effect in repairing the tattered rope. Students had moved closer to the surrounding walls lest the platform fell.
Harry was losing his grasp because of his sweating hands. His head was throbbing and he roared as he tried to lift himself higher but this time he failed to do so. The platform was now almost vertical and Harry's stomach lurched as it gave another fierce shake. It was then that Snape came into view, one hand wrapped securely around a rope, the other outstretched towards Harry.
"Reach," he shouted desperately. Harry hastened to scurry up the platform and found Snape's hand. With incredible strength Snape heaved Harry towards him. The platform evened out as their weight shifted. Snape pointed his wand at the windlass and the platform lowered until Harry found himself being dragged off the platform. "Somebody fetch Madam Pomfrey…NOW!" Snape shrieked.
"What wrong with him!?" Hermione pleaded kneeling beside Harry who was shaking his head faintly and blinking slowly. Snape glanced at her before lowering himself to get a better examination of Harry.
"Potter…" he paused "Harry…can you hear me?"
Harry was becoming more disorientated and Hermione could almost feel the dizziness he was experiencing. The deep gash above his eye was bleeding copiously down his face. "Do you have anything to stop the bleeding?" Snape asked Hermione.
"Er…" Hermione replied rummaging around in her jacket. She retrieved a handkerchief and offered it to Snape.
"Place it over the wound." He indicated Harry's head. Trembling, Hermione reached over and pressed the handkerchief to his forehead. Harry shifted his head slightly but eased under her touch. Soon Madam Pomfrey drove her way through the crowds and bent down beside Harry.
"Dazed…vacant facial expression, definitely a concussion," she rapidly told Snape. She hissed in a breath
when she laid eyes on the flow of blood running from underneath Hermione's hand.
"Will he be alright? Hermione asked heatedly.
"Yes dear, once we get him to the Hospital Wing."
After levitating Harry to the Hospital Wing, Madam Pomfrey administered to Harry a Blood Replenishing potion and also a potion to relieve the pressure from Harry's head. After he had been placed in a bed, his head wrapped in a bandage, he soon drifted off to sleep. When Madam Pomfrey had insured that he was indeed asleep and not unconscious she left Snape and Hermione alone beside his bed.
"What were you doing?" Hermione enquired suspiciously. "Why did the platform break?"
"Because the idiot who constructed it, `Professor' Lockhart, failed to complete it," Snape snarled. "Actually…I think I'll go and have a talk with him."
He strode down the aisle between the rows of beds and shoved open the double-doors, leaving Hermione alone beside Harry.
She pulled up a comfortable seat and held Harry's limp hand as he slept, soon falling into a deep slumber herself, her head resting on the side of his bed.
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Okay I'm desperate for reviews. I swear…it's like an addiction. Any portkey author would agree! So if you can, please feed my addiction. I know…I'm terrible, lol.
Thanks for reading…and reviewing. Hope you enjoyed it as much as I loved writing it. I didn't actually mean to hurt Harry, it just sort of happened!
Take care,
Radagast
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