Unofficial Portkey Archive

Harry shivered in his sleep, tossing and turning as and endless plague of screams filled his dreams. They were high and shrill and sometimes words were intermixed but he could never distinguish one voice from another. In the end, a high laughter always preceded his awakening.

Cold sweat poured down his back as he wiped the damp perspiration off his forehead. Whipping off the blanket, Harry drew a robe around him and padded down to the Slytherin Common Room. It could never be conceived as warm or homely, but there was a certain drama to the room that Harry always found attractive. It was wide with dark, ebony furniture accented with green and gold trim. Everything in it was of the most elegant nature, from the plush rugs to the fine handle of the poker. Along the walls were deep, green banners with the Slytherin emblem and a snake intertwining the banners. The lighting was always dim, clustered around a few lamps that constantly gave the impression that everyone else was in the shadows.

Harry took a spot on one of the love seats by the fireside though there were no embers burning. A quick Incendio did the trick and Harry watched the fires burn for a little while, trying to wash out the screams from his dreams. He had always them and while he suspected the true origin of his dreams, they never came into to detail. It was always vague, filled with a familiarity that was just out of recognition. The warm glow of the fire was starting to envelop him and the cold, chilling laughter was finally ebbing away.

"Couldn't sleep?"

Tracey plopped down next to him, a loose robe covering her shorts and a dark green tank top. She bent her legs so that she was in a little ball, her arms wrapped around her shins and her chin placed on top of her knees. She watched the fire for a minute or two with him, not caring that he didn't answer. What other possible answer could there be for sitting in the Common Room at 3 in the morning?

"What's your excuse?" Harry finally asked.

"Millicent tends to snore. I woke up to use the loo and all was lost from there."

Harry chuckled, lifting his eyeglasses to rub his tired eyes. He knew that Tracey wanted to ask why he was awake too, but he never told her. It was too embarassing to disclose to her that he woke up in the middle of the night from nightmares. He was thirteen for Merlin's sake.

"You come down here a lot don't you? I mean, in the middle of the night that is."

"I like the fire. It's cold in the dorm."

"Oh."

It was a disbelieving noise, one that Tracey made often when she didn't want to press a subject around him. Though she was one of his best friends, Harry rarely opened up to either her or Blaise. Blaise would try to turn it into a joke and deep inside, Harry admitted that Blaise could probably care less. He was a person of opportunity and ambition and while Harry knew that Blaise put up a good front, he also knew that his dark friend was decidedly cold-hearted. It only made sense that he was in Slytherin with the rest of the snakes.

"How's your head?" she asked.

"Not a scar on it...besides the other one I mean."

Tracey smiled, pulling back a curly strand of her black hair behind her ear. "Did you know that when my Mum heard you were in Slytherin, she wanted to propose an arranged marriage between us right away?"

The abject horror on Harry's face must have made Tracey laugh because she was suddenly giggling uncontrollably, pointing at his face as she buried her head.

"I mean, I didn't mean it like that!" Harry protested. "I would be flattered to but - I just - that's a little..."

"...ridiculous?" Tracey finished, her blue eyes twinkling. "I told her that myself, but she still brings it up when I go home for the summer. Especially since we've gotten closer."

"Well, I'm sorry for that," Harry genuinely said. "I can't believe that your family still believes in arranged marriages."

"You know how Purebloods are. Traditional to the core."

"And your Mum would make an exception for a Half-Blood like me?"

"You're the Boy-Who-Lived. I think that transcends any blood status."

"Hmph. Not really a woman who sticks to her principles?" Harry raised his eyebrows at her with a mocking smile.

"Watch what you about my mother, Potter." Tracey tried to say it in an intimidating voice, but she dissolved into a fit of giggles again.

"Do you honestly care about that? All that blood stuff, I mean." Harry didn't look at her as he asked, content with staring at the small blaze.

"It has its place."

Harry saw her shrug out of the corner of his eye, carefully watching her reaction. She grew quiet, not wanting to extend the conversation any longer. Harry knew that he couldn't just blatantly ask her if she disagreed, but the lack of boasting or any gregariousness on her part appeased him. At least she wasn't like Malfoy. Harry suspected that she might have had her own reservations about blood statuses, but it was hard to buck against the House as well as her family values.

"And if I was a Muggleborn? Would she still want to try and arrange you and I even if I am the Boy-Who-Lived?"

Tracey drew her lips together, a slight tinge of annoyance that Harry recognized. She didn't answer for a moment, deep in thought. With an exasperated sigh, she disappointedly said, "No."

Harry nodded to himself, careful not to express any overt disagreement with her answer. Instead, he scooted over on the large love seat and patted the space next to him.

"The fire's warmer over here."

She didn't hesitate to get up, padding on the plush rug and curling up next to him so their arms were touching. Harry sat with his arms crossed and his legs stretched out in front of him while she resumed her position of sitting like a tiny cannonball.

"Do you care at all?" she wondered aloud.

In turn, Harry suspected that she knew he wasn't as deeply committed to blood statuses as the rest of the Slytherins. After all, he was raised by a Muggle family and didn't fit the traditional standards of a Pureblood Slytherin. Their constant proximity to each other also allowed her to see his frowns and looks of disdain when he overheard Malfoy or some of the older Slytherins.

"I'd be honored to be arranged to wed you." Harry deflected.

She punched him hard in the shoulder, the smile lighting up her heart-shaped face.

"Prat."

****************

When Harry woke up in the morning, overcast skies started an already gloomy day. After a few more minutes, Tracey had fallen asleep in his lap and Harry had to gingerly wake her up and get her to bed. Only a few hours of slumber came to him before class started again and Harry took a little more time than usual facing the warm spray of the shower. Their first class that morning was Creatures with Gryffindor. It was the new House on rotation.

Professor Lupin was already waiting for them, still dressed in shabby robes. Usually, the class would file in with Slytherins on one side and Gryffindors on the other, but Harry amusedly noted that there were certain people, like Malfoy and his goons, who sat in the back. It was no coincidence that a few other Gryffindors sat next to him, still in the back of the classroom and as far away from Professor Lupin as possible.

If Lupin noticed the odd arrangement, he said nothing, only flashing them a smile as he closed the door with his wand. It shut with a finality and Harry heard a small whimper behind him. He could only smile at their fearfulness, not detecting any sort of danger with Professor Lupin. After all, he was only a werewolf for a short time anyways. Where was the harm?

"Good morning, everyone. I'm pleased to have a special project for you today. Headmaster Snape often talks about being fearless and conquering your fears in battle. But how can you know what you fear unless you see it? There is more than one way to conquer your fears but the easiest way is to see a physical manifestation of your own fear. Who can tell me a creature that can do that?"

Ron Weasley raised his wand, an oddity if Harry had ever seen one. "It's a Boggart, sir."

"Correct, Mr. Weasley! And who can tell me a Boggart does?"

Hermione Granger's hand shot up next and she patiently held it up even though it was clear that a lot of the Purebloods had heard of a Boggart. Lupin smiled at the bushy-haired teenager and tilted his head to allow an answer.

"A Boggart is a creature that manifests one's worst fear. It is often found hiding in dank, dark places where it can hide its true form until a person comes along. Its rare for someone ever to see a Boggart's true form."

"Correct again, Ms. Granger! Now with all of that information, can someone tell me what our special project will be today?"

Parvati Patil gulped and said, "A Boggart?"

Lupin smiled though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Astute, Ms. Patil."

Pivoting on the spot, the Creatures Professor brought forth a stand-alone closet that was already rattling, wobbling between its two legs. The class gasped and the audible sounds of chairs screeching backwards shrieked in their ears.

"No need to be alarmed! The Boggart is trapped inside this closet until I open it, now I want everyone to form a single file line."

It was a slow going and many made an effort to stay in the back of the line as they filled out. Eventually, Harry was somewhere around the first third with Tracey in front of him and Blaise behind him. In front was Ron Weasley, visibly shaking in time with the shuddering closet. Lupin hushed them, clearing the room of its desks and chairs and walking towards the corner where he had an odd vinyl, record player.

"The key to defeating the Boggart is to humor. Imagine something amusing and turn that Boggart into something funny and it will lose its fearful form! The spell you cast is Riddikulus, but remember - humor is the key."

He placed the needle onto the record and the instrumental version of "Sing, Sing, Sing" started blasting over the magically amplified speaker.

"Come on!" Lupin encouraged. "Here we go!"

The closet burst open and a giant tarantula poured out, its eight legs flailing and smacking against the ground. There was a collective gasp as the class all took one step backwards and Ron Weasley suddenly lost all color in his skin.

"Weasley! HUMOR!"

His hand shook and the spell was barely above a whisper but Weasley managed to squeak it out.

"Riddikulus..."

The tarantula suddenly had on bowling shoes, slipping on the slick floor as it toppled over in a heap. Weasley gave a relieved sigh and there were a few chuckles at the sight of the giant spider on its back.

"Excellent! Next! Next!" Lupin waved Ron away to the back of the line as Seamus Finnigan stepped forward.

Finnigan's Boggart was a Banshee who lost her voice when Seamus cast the spell. The Banshee clutched its throat, trying to shriek but failing miserably. Eventually, the class chuckled in appreciation, fearing the Boggart less and less as each student went up and took their turn. With the exception of a few students who had to say the spell more than once to make it work, the class generally dealt with the Boggart. There were some interesting fears, especially Lavender Brown's doppelganger that fell from the sky and splattered on the ground. She had to chant the spell to herself before her body suddenly jumped in the air and started performing an awkward Russian dance. Even then, she wasn't particularly convinced.

All of a sudden, Tracey stepped up to the metaphorical plate, tying her curly, dark hair into a ponytail and rolling up her sleeves. She had a determined look on her face as the Boggart writhed around on the ground as a lion without any teeth. The Boggart whirled in the air as it did when it morphed into shape and eventually, Harry saw Tracey's greatest fear.

It was all fire, a heat so scalding that Harry could feel it even from a distance. He heard someone gasp behind him as the fire started taking shape, forming legs and then a torso and then arms and finally a head with horns. It turned around, snarling and growling with a haltering cadence. The flames licked the floor, but Tracey was unmoved. She raised her wand defiantly and yelled, "RIDDIKULUS!"

A great wave swelled and washed over the fiery demon, dousing it as it gave a shrill wail until all that was left were dying embers. No one laughed. No one chuckled. No one even so much as snorted. Was that supposed to be funny?

Lupin, apparently undeterred, shouted, "Next!"

Harry stepped forward, wondering what would appear from the Boggart. He had a few ideas, mainly centered around Dudley and his friends. He hoped that it wouldn't show up though because that would be a bit of an embarrassment to someone who was supposed to be the first Third Year to ever rank that high on the Master List. The Boggart started taking shape again and Harry widened his stance like he was about to duel. He was wrong about it being Dudley.

He was not wrong about it being a Dursley.

The Vernon Dursley in the room was just as fat as he was in real life, his belly spilling over his belt with pants that barely stayed affixed around his waist. His mustache was twitching and Harry spotted the nervous tick his right eye took when he was furious. In his right hand was a brown belt rolled around his hand several times. He uncoiled it so that instead of holding the buckle, he held the other end of the belt. Vernon raised it above his head and bellowed, "BOY!"

"Riddikulus," Harry said in a flat tone.

Vernon started to swell, his belly inflating even more as his feet slowly came off the ground. The buttons at the top of his shirt rocketed off in different directions as his feet slowly came off the ground. His face was purple and his eyes manic, but the class laughed as Vernon started drifting towards the ceiling like an obese balloon.

"Next," Lupin said softly, making eye contact with Harry and giving him a furious look. What's he mad at me for? Harry thought.

Walking towards the back of the line, Harry chanced a look over his shoulder to see a young boy shivering with tattered clothes. Blaise said the words and the boy was suddenly cartwheeling all over the room. As Harry reached the back of the line, Tracey immediately leaned towards him and whispered, "Who was that?"

"No one," Harry quickly answered, "Some Muggle that I got in trouble with once. Don't know why that was the one who showed up."

Tracey nodded, accepting the story at face value. Sometimes, he wished she was more perceptive about things, but then again, he was the one that purposefully didn't tell her about his uncle. But he was interested in her Boggart.

"And yours? That looked like some fire demon."

Tracey shrugged, brushing her robes down and rolling back her sleeves so they were straight down her thin arms. "I've always been afraid of it. I had nightmares about it when I was little and they never really went away. Luckily, fire has a very obvious answer to it."

"Wasn't very funny though."

"It was funny to me."

The class ended quickly afterwards and Lupin asked them to write one scroll of an analysis of the Boggart's behavior and how to quickly defeat it. It was a relatively easy assignment, but Lupin insisted on using the experiences in class and relating it to their scroll. He dismissed them early, citing their excellent performance with the Boggart.

"Harry. A word with you, please," Lupin called him back.

Telling Tracey and Blaise to go on, Harry lingered for a second as Lupin shuffled his papers. He took his time to examine the professor with the graying hair. His clothes were baggy and a couple years worn, but Harry cold see lithe strong arms and a strong back. From his readings, he knew that transformed werewolves inherited some of the physical strength and though he was shabbily dressed, Lupin must have been very able.

"May I ask who that was?"

Harry smoothly answered, giving Lupin the same lie he gave to Tracey. "It was some Muggle I got in trouble with when I was little. Apparently, it scared me enough."

Lupin paused, giving him a piercing look. But Harry kept his face blank and his eyebrows slightly raised as if he was surprised that he was being told to stay back just for this. After a moment, Lupin nodded, his lips pursed and his expression defeated.

"You know, Harry. I was in Hogwarts many years ago. You should look me up in the yearbook some time. You'll be pleased to know we share many things in common."

"Okay, sure. Is that all?"

Lupin dismissed with a slight nod of the head and Harry left the classroom, bewildered as to why Lupin would ask him to look him up in the yearbook but grateful that he didn't press about Vernon.

************

Night fell quickly after their classes and Harry was once again in Trow's classroom, pouring over footage of previous duels. Tonight, he was once again focusing on Hermione Granger and her apparently psychic ability to predict spells. She was supremely confident in her form, never looking surprised as spell after spell was shot at her. In turn, she only used spells when it was necessary, often allowing her adversaries to tire themselves out or over extend themselves in frustration. In short, Hermione Granger was ruthlessly efficient.

It was an admirable quality, to be sure, but Harry was confident that he could overwhelm her next time they dueled. Her characteristics were too Ravenclaw, too practiced, and too predictable. Most importantly, she rarely led the attacks, allowing others to be baited into attacking her and exposing their own inherent weaknesses. There was merit to that plan as she was a girl as well as a Muggleborn. It must have been all the more frustrating to others who perceived her the way Tracey did.

Backing away from the Stationary Omnioculars, Harry saw that the room was dark and even Granger had left already. Trow kept one light lit for him, but it was already past supper and approaching curfew. His notes were near illegible in the dark so instead of continuing on, Harry packed his belongings and started towards the kitchens for a late night snack. The House Elves there always amused him and they never failed to bring him the best of desserts.

The corridors were dark, save for the torches that lined the walls and the moon hanging overhead, and Harry's rhythmic footsteps immediately allowed his mind to wander and stray. How can I get higher on the Master List? It's not enough to just keep beating others and winning the inter-House competitions. I have to do something remarkable. Is that why Snape isolated me during the match versus the Ravenclaws? Did he want to see how I reacted?

Harry hoped that he had acquitted himself quite well as no one else on Slytherin was even touched by a spell during that duel. In retrospect, there were other ways to solve the problem, but the suffocating blanket of the fog did its job. It disoriented him to the point where he couldn't think logically and rationally. Turning a corner to the kitchens, Harry was so lost in the clouds that he didn't hear the footsteps coming from behind him.

The first thing he felt was the sharp snap of his neck as something smashed against the back of his head. His glasses tumbled off the bridge of his nose, clattering against the ground as it crunched under the sole of someone's shoe. Instinctively reaching for his wand, Harry found that he was unable to do so due to the other foot that had fallen on his hand. Crying out in pain, Harry tried to wrestle free, knowing all too well the inevitable next step.

They always kicked the stomach, knowing that was where vital organs lay so Harry brought his stomach taut as the toe of another foot smashed into it.

There's four of them, Harry thought through the pain.

Instead of allowing the foot to escape, Harry threw his body over it, rolling the ankle and hearing the satisfied yell of one of his attackers. He twisted as hard as he could, but his other hand was still stepped on and so all he could hope for was a severely twisted ankle.

"Get the fucker off me!" The voice yelled.

A few more kicks to the ribs did nothing, but the shoe that connected with his cheek dazed him enough to loosen his grip. From here, Harry knew there was nothing he could do without his wand so he curled into a ball, tucking his elbows to take the brunt of the damage for his ribs and hoping they would avoid his head.

Luckily, wizards weren't nearly as adept at physical violence as Muggles. Harry already knew that they must have been Purebloods because they didn't take advantage of damaging his legs and instead went for the more traditional body shots. They stopped after a moment, but Harry didn't release from his position. Often, Dudley would stop just so Harry would open up and his fat cousin would start the assault all over again. If nothing else, Harry was a quick learner when he applied himself.

They did stop, their heavy breathing filling the halls. One, Harry assumed it was their de facto leader, leaned down and whispered, "You're nothing special, Potter. Just a little twat that everyone doesn't see. Think of that next time you go to Battle class."

Their receding footsteps meant that they were apparently leaving and truth be told, it was not the worst jumping that Harry had ever received. Once, Harry stole Dudley's candy cane during Boxing Day and Dudley had proceeded to stuff his mouth with snow. It was only through a slight moment of ingenuity that Harry started swallowing the dirty snow to prevent himself from choking. It's just water, he had thought.

Hoping to Merlin that no one else was in the hallway, Harry dragged himself to the Slytherin Common Room. Slowly opening the secret passageway, Harry was relieved to find no one in the Common Room for once. It must have been even later than he thought. Making haste, Harry took the stairs two at a time, ignoring the painful agony in his ribs and his abdomen. Nott was finishing his nightly preparations, so Harry paused outside of the lavatory, dearly hoping that his fellow Slytherin would hurry up. Fortunately, Harry caught him at the tail end of brushing his teeth. Quickly divesting of his clouds, Harry jumped in the shower, bringing a hand mirror with him as he did.

The hot water stung his skin, but there were few cuts. Most of the damage would manifest itself into bruises that could easily be hidden behind clothing as his Uncle frequently reminded him when he was young. He was fortunate that they didn't break his wand but even Purebloods wouldn't go so far. They wanted to send him a message, not get themselves expelled. A broken wand would lead to the Headmaster and Snape would quickly find the culprits. No, they just wanted Harry to know they were there, lurking in the dark when he didn't expect it.

There wasn't a lot of damage to his faith, thankfully, and Harry had brought some special ointment that could easily cover and heal the damage. Though he wasn't an expert with Healing spells, he knew a few that could fix some issues with the slight bruising on the back of his head and a quick Reparo fixed his glasses.

There was nothing he could do about the bruises on his ribs and his abdomen though. Those would have to stay and only time and the human body would heal it. Thankfully, they were easily hidden and Harry wouldn't have to explain them unless someone physically lifted his shirt and spotted the purple-yellow bruises. Those could be explained away as experiences from Battle class.

Yet, if they spotted the thin and criss-crossing scars on his back, that would have been much more difficult to explain. They would have started asking questions about why they were so faded and why they were so numerous. Those questions, Harry did not want to answer. He only wanted to be known by the one scar on his forehead, not the several on his back.

**********

"Do you think this wise?"

"I think lots of thing wise. Conversely, I find lots of things to be madness. This is the second time you're questioning my judgment."

"Making him suffer for suffering's sake just doesn't seem to be the best course of action. Not to mention the effect on those boys. If they knew that they were subconsciously pushed to attack him..."

"I only enhanced what was already felt. The boy needs to know that enemies exist. Too long he has crushed all of his competition save for the insufferable Muggleborn."

"He did perform admirably against the Ravenclaws. Few doubt his courage and bravery, traits that..."

"....Gryffindors would admire, no doubt. Too many times that side of him rears its ugly head. Still, I doubt few Gryffindors would appreciate the ingenuity and timing of that plan. He also holds the command of his fellow classmates. They disobeyed Malfoy and took their positions even when they couldn't see him."

"It is a testament to his ability to get people to trust him. There is an earnest honesty about him. Do you wish to stamp all of it out?"

"I wish to stamp the trusting out. He must know that he can trust no one but himself. There is a difference in delegating others responsibilities and trusting them. Need I remind you of the last time the Potters put their trust in someone?"

"The Potters trusted a lot of people. Just because one of them failed doesn't mean that we should subject the boy to the radical opposite."

"How can you argue with the results? He is thriving."

"He is talented. There is a difference. There is no nuance. It is all sound of fury and we both know where the fury comes from."

"I stepped in whenever that blasted pig of an Uncle went too far. They won't remember, but I always prevented it from getting worse."

"But you still let it happen."

"It has hardened him. There is no question that his hardship is his motivation."

"I wish there were other ways to motivate him. He can only survive on anger and talent for so long. He needs to refine these talents, explore different ways to attack. It will be no use forcing him into these situations if he only reacts with barbs and talons."

"What do you propose?"

"The Muggleborn. Her way of doing things."

"Her? I already have enough trouble with the wolf discovering things with the Boggart. I thought he would know something about harnessing the beast within, but I fear that he's quickly outgrowing his usefulness."

"He has his purpose. It would be too suspicious to release him now."

"Release him? Yes. Get him sacked? Not as difficult."

"There are more important things to worry about than the wolf. He needs the Muggleborn. He needs to start thinking differently."

"I fear you greatly overestimate her. She's nothing more than a product of luck and her classmates severe misconception that she's incapable. We already know her limits!"

"She has her limits but if she helps him untap his, what is the harm?"

"You know the harm."

"You said you would do everything possible to maximize his talent. This is the inevitable next step."

"Inevitable indeed. Fine. And you were sure that the boys can't be identified by him?"

"I'm positive. I just...this isn't right."

"A great man once told me that one must make a choice between what is right and what is easy. He forgot to mention that there is a third option...what is necessary."

A/N: A couple of people have asked me what the long term plans for this story was. I already have plotted out beyond Third Year and I do have an ending in mind. That being said, this is subject to change since I obviously won't write something akin to a book devoted to each year. Fear not, the structure of Hogwarts Battle School will still remain. And yes, I have read the book that is the prime inspiration for this ;).

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