Chapter 17

Revelations

A/N: Chapter 17 begins! I'm so excited to be coming close to finishing this story. I hope to have it finished within the next few weeks if I can continue to make time for it with my new job. Thank you for reading and reviewing! Warning! There are references in this chapter that come from after the time the book is supposedly set in! I am aware, and I do not care one wit. I am referencing what I do because I consider it worth referencing.

Elliesmeow: I hope you find my portrayal of Dumbledore satisfactorily : )

SunMoonKunochi: Thank you so much! I love hearing that people have enjoyed what I've written! I hope you like the way this story continues.

Freed-sama: I agree that making them all mini-politicians would be a bit much, though to say that there are none who view themselves as such at Hogwarts would be foolhardy. Fortunately, none of my planned main characters will be overly worried about garnering political favor. About keeping everything in one story, I like the concept, but I wasn't sure if that would dissuade people from reading it when it started to get into the 500-600k word mark near the end. I thought that that many words might be somewhat daunting to someone looking for a story. Thoughts?

IveGotNoIdea: I will say only this. In my HPverse, technology is not a gamebreaker and dark magic is just as limited as light magic. As for the Prince hurting someone as a favor, I am referring more to the word's original meaning than I am to its current use of just being a small act someone does for a friend.

Harry and Hermione sat alone in the hospital wing scribbling on their individual pieces of parchment while Madam Pomfrey filed some sort of paperwork in her office. Ron and Neville had been released from the hospital wing the previous afternoon, so the pair were quite alone. Before they had left, the group had made plans together to go and visit Hagrid at his house as soon as Harry was released from Madam Pomfrey's care, having become interested by Harry's description of the large man.

Upon awakening this morning Harry had seen that Hermione was already conscious and reading a textbook with some parchment next to her. Upon questioning this, Harry discovered that Hermione had requested all of today's assignments sent to the Hospital Wing while she waited for her wrist to finish mending. He immediately petitioned for the aged Healer to give him his assignments as well and they had spent a handful of companionable hours working, with occasional accents added by Harry asking Hermione a question about an assignment, unsurprised to find that she always knew the answer.

Harry sat in his bed in the stone-wrought hospital wing scribbling out a small essay on Melplogg's Principles of Transfiguration when Hermione's voice broke his concentration.

"Harry." She said with a nervous voice, and when Harry looked up he saw that her downturned face was slightly pink. She was looking at her hands and knotting and unknotting the fabric of her skirt that was spread across her lap. Her brown hair framed her face and her chocolate eyes tentatively met Harry's for a moment.

"Yeah, Hermione?" he prompted.

"I…" She paused for a moment as if searching for what to say, then she straightened out of her slouch and her confident demeanor returned. "I just wanted to apologize to you for how I've been treating you since the start of term. I haven't been being very friendly." Harry was startled. This was the last thing he had expected Hermione to say and he didn't quite know how to respond. "I—"

"No, let me finish." Hermione interjected. "I could tell it bothered you and I knew I needed to apologize. I was afraid that if I tried to be friends with you bad things would happen. That's what the other girls told me. They said…" Hermione shook herself visibly, dismissing the thought. "What they said didn't matter. I know I should've been nicer, I just got scared that you would be treated badly for talking to me, and then I started telling myself you were just the same as the others; that you wouldn't want to know a muggleborn." She shrugged. "I know it wasn't right, and I just wanted to apologize."

Harry was momentarily speechless, but summoned his voice and opened his mouth, ignoring the small pain he felt as he did so. "Hermione, you don't have anything to apologize for. I know what they did to you." He smiled at her with a truer smile than he'd ever worn.

Hermione smiled back at him and Harry could see the tension fall from her face as she replaced it with a smile. "Can we start over?" Hermione asked, standing up from her bed and striding to Harry with hand extended for a shake. "I'm Hermione Granger." She said.

Harry smiled and took her hand to shake it. "Harry Potter, pleased to meet you."

Hermione let out a small laugh and she returned to her bed and propped the magical cast over her left hand on her lap. "So what do you think of Hogwarts so far?" Hermione asked in a slightly sardonic tone.

Harry laughed. "Well it's certainly been exciting so far." He said jokingly. "Maybe a little more exciting than I would've preferred it."

His face became more serious. "But in all honesty, it's amazing. I feel like I'm constantly walking around gawking at everything."

Hermione nodded. "It's just so fantastic, isn't it?" Her eyes lit up. "I feel like everyone judges me for liking my classes so much, but how could I not? It's like everything that I've read about in stories for so long is actually true, and I'm lucky enough to see it. Why wouldn't I want to learn everything I could." She spoke quickly, the words pouring out one after the other in a way that made Harry smile at her passion. When she finished, her cheeks colored slightly and she glanced at Harry again.

"I sound like such a bookworm, don't I?" She asked in a small voice.

"You sound like someone who enjoys magic and understands that it's worth something." Harry smiled at her and saw something in her eyes similar to happiness. He thought she looked much better that way.

After this exchange, Harry and Hermione made small talk for about an hour, asking various questions about each other, as is the way with new friendships. The conversation was simplistic and enjoyable for both. Harry found out Hermione's middle name, Jean. In turn, he told her his favorite color, dark green. Hermione talked of her love of books and music for quite a while, blushing when she realized that Harry hadn't spoken for several minutes. Harry didn't mind, as found himself at a loss for anything he was so passionate about as she was for her books.

To hide his apparent lack of life experience, Harry asked as many questions as he could. What did Hermione like to listen to? Classical was her go-to, but she enjoyed most genres. What did her parents do? They were both dentists. What was her favorite book? That one stumped her. The young girl sat thinking for several long moments as she considered. Finally she spoke.

"Really, there's too many to consider. There are so many different genres and types. I love Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. It's an example of what solid prose can add to a story. At the same time I love fantasy novels like C.S. Lewis' Space Trilogy and The Lord of the Rings. Recently there have been several American authors I find myself deeply enjoying like Patrick Rothfuss and Brent Weeks. Both are exceptionally good, but they write an entirely different style than most of their peers. These are just from the top of my head, and I haven't even counted any non-fiction." She finished her longwinded answer and smiled at Harry. "What about you? What do you like?"

Harry shrugged, feeling slightly awkward. "I haven't really ever read any books I've enjoyed. Only my school books for the most part."

Hermione's expression was one of complete incredulity. "How is that even possible?" She exclaimed.

"My relatives don't read much, so I don't really have the chance to have any books that I could read." Harry knew he was entering dangerous territory and began searching his mind for how to change the subject.

"Didn't they ever buy you books?" Hermione continued in further exasperation.

Harry was saved by responding when Madam Pomfrey entered the room. She bustled over to check on Hermione and cast a few spells to check on the state of her mending. "Ms. Granger," she started. "It seems as if everything has healed quite well. Once I grab you another regimen of healing potions you'll be free to go." Hermione smiled brightly and the mediwitch dissolved the magic that held her wrist in place before turning to Harry and pursing her lips slightly.

"Mr. Potter, your condition was unfortunately much more severe. Most of your minor injuries have been healed to the point that I would be willing to let you depart, but that hand of yours is nowhere near ready. The spell must be applied every six hours without fail in order to stay in place. You'll have to be here for—" She paused as she cast another few spells to determine Harry's current progress. Her face turned surprised for a moment. "Actually, only another week. Maybe even less if you continue to heal at this rate. Lord, boy, you certainly heal quickly." She paused for a moment, as if considering, then continued.

"You must also understand that you won't be able to play quidditch for at least a couple of months. If you do you will most likely refracture your hand, which will only make this whole ordeal much longer." She shook her head softly as Harry's face fell. "I'm sorry Harry, but it's necessary if you want to be sure that your hand will still function. Fortunately, you'll be out of here soon and I'm sure your friends will help you keep your mind off of it.

Though Madam Pomfrey seemed to think that a week was a short stay, Harry couldn't help but think that he'd have to sit alone every day in the hospital wing doing nothing. He was not excited, to say the least. And no quidditch? Harry knew just how disappointed Wood would be, and he himself felt sick about it. He hadn't even considered that his broken hand could make him unable to play.

Hermione saw his stricken expression and spoke softly, "Don't worry, Harry. I'll come visit you every day while you're here, and I'll make sure Ron and Neville come by too. As for the other, I'm sure you'll be back on the team in no time. Once you get the cast off, there are exercises you can do to speed up the healing. I'll go to the library and see if I can find any." She finished with a smile and saw Harry's expression of gratitude.

"I'd like that." He said.

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"She said he won't be released for a week." Hermione informed Neville and Ron over supper in the Great Hall. "I told him that all of us would go visit him while he's stuck there. That seemed to take some of the sting away from what Pomfrey said about Quidditch." She said casually.

"What about Quidditch?" Ron said loudly, his interest piqued.

"Well," Hermione said slowly. "Madam Pomfrey said he won't be able to play for the next few months because of his hand. She said it would just refracture and—"

"He'll miss the next game?" Ron's expression indicated that he could think of nothing worse than this. "That means Gryffindor might lose against Slytherin." A small fire fueled by Gryffindor pride and rivalry with the Slytherins rose up in Ron at that moment. "Harry has to play. We need to win that game."

"I don't know, Ron." Neville said. "If Pomfrey said he won't be able to—"

"He'll just have to try anyway!" Ron interjected.

Hermione gave Ron a withering look. "Honestly, Ronald. Couldn't you look at this from Harry's perspective? He's got a broken hand and he can't play on the team because of it. I think our priority should be helping Harry, not the quidditch team." After saying this she stood from the table and stalked out of the Great Hall in the direction of the Gryffindor common room. With each step she nearly stomped the stone ground in her frustration. She hurried up staircase after staircase, having quickly memorized the path from the common room to the Great Hall.

When she arrived, Hermione immediately went to her shared dorm, planning on reading a book and going to sleep, but was surprised to find a note laying on her bed bearing her name. She tore it open and read only one sentence.

If possible, I would like to see you in my office at your earliest convenience.

Professor Dumbledore.

Hermione stared at the words for a moment, multiple explanations for the purpose of the meeting springing up and being rejected rapidly within her mind. Was she being expelled? Certainly not. She'd done nothing wrong. Well, she did lie to a teacher. But they wouldn't expel her for that would they? No. But what if they gave her detention for lying?

Her mind spiraled down this unhelpful path for a moment before she gathered her thoughts together and left the room. Speculation would help nothing, she told herself. Still, she couldn't shake the subject from her thoughts as she made her way by memory to Dumbledore's office, though she had only been there once before.

She arrived at the stone gargoyle she knew hid the doorway to the headmaster's office and slipped the note into its mouth. The stone wall immediately slid open and she mounted the stairs leading up to the large, wooden door. She was about to knock when she heard a voice from inside that stopped her for a moment.

"Minevra," She heard Dumbledore say. "you know as well as I do that that is not an option. You saw what happened to the Longbottoms."

There was a pause in the conversation and Hermione pressed her ear to the door to listen more closely. Whatever it was that Professor McGonagall said, she couldn't hear it. "Yes, I am quite sure it was real. What they did to him was horrible. If there were any safe way to remove him from that home, I would. But Harry must stay with the Dursleys if we want him to survive. You know as well as I that many of Voldemort's followers still walk free."

At the mention of Voldemort's name, Hermione breathed in sharply. Unlike those who had grown up in wizarding families, Hermione held no particular taboo for the name, but having been at Hogwarts for as long as she had, she had grown used to people's illogical responses. To hear Dumbledore so casually speak his name while talking about Harry had startled her. She scolded herself mentally for letting other people's fear influence her.

"Yes, Minevra. They beat him; in many unique ways. I saw things…" The headmaster's voice trailed off and Hermione waited, listening. Her thoughts ran wild. Harry had been beaten by his family? At first she wanted to reject the notion, but then she thought about his actions. He would get nervous and evade certain subjects, sometimes he said things that sounded especially grim and got nervous, and he had seemed quite used to broken bones. She nodded unconsciously as she accepted the thought, but that only caused more questions. Why was he with his family if the headmaster knew he was being beaten? And why would they send him back as they seemed to think necessary? What did Neville have to do with all of this?

She began to grow increasingly nervous as she realized she had heard no conversation for quite a while. Had she been detected? She quickly knocked her hand against the wood at this thought and waited for a moment before Professor McGonagall opened the door to her.

"Hello, Ms. Granger." the Transfiguration teacher said cordially, turning and motioning her into the room. The walls of Dumbledore's office were filled with the paintings of previous headmasters, this was not the most interesting thing in the room, however. Hermione saw several bookshelves that she could only assume held Dumbledore's most used books, dozens of small instruments whose purpose she could not guess, and off in one corner a sort of standing water tank that glowed slightly.

"Ah, Ms. Granger!" Dumbledore began. "I'm so glad you made it here this quickly. I had been hoping that you could shed some light on a certain subject for me. There have been rumors of a fight in the hallways on the same night that you and your friends were injured. I thought as a student you may have heard something more of this." He gestured for her to sit across from him at his desk while McGonagall sat to his side.

"What sort of fight?" Hermione struggled to keep her voice under control. She felt heat rising in her face and hoped it didn't show.

"That has been particularly hard to discover." The wizened old wizard said, eyes twinkling. "It seems that though several have heard about this fight, very few actually claim to have seen it. We hoped that you may have seen it before the accident that put you in the hospital wing occurred."

She felt her cheeks burning and looked down slightly. "I'm sorry, professor, I didn't see anything. I don't think my friends would've either." She shrugged as if she wished she could add more.

A small smile formed at the corners of the headmaster's mouth. "Alright, then Ms. Granger. We had hoped you might help us find those who participated in the fight, we had heard that it was quite severe. We wanted to be sure that the responsible party was punished."

Hermione felt an urge to tell him everything, but she knew that Faust would never accept that. Rather than speak, she shook her head back and forth, hoping that that would communicate adequately that she knew nothing of the subject.

"Ahh, well then it seems I've wasted your time, Ms. Granger. I apologize. If you hear anything, please let me know, and do have a good night."

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Harry sat in the Hospital Wing, reading over his school books while he waited to receive the day's homework from Madam Pomfrey. He had only two days left in the infirmary, according to Madam Pomfrey's most recent estimate, and he was anxious to be able to leave again. True to her word, Hermione had come to visit him each day for varying lengths of time. Neville and Ron had made it in only once, confessing that they had jointly received a detention from Snape when their potion melted through a table.

Harry was just switching from one textbook to another when he saw Hedwig perch herself outside the closed window of the hospital wing and begin pecking at it with her beak. He rose from his assigned bed and swung open the wide window to allow the bird inside. On entering, she immediately held out her leg to Harry and he removed the small note that was attached, reading it quickly.

Dear Harry,

I know I had mentioned it in a previous letter, but I wanted to let you know officially: I made Watcher! The official ceremony will be happening in a couple weeks and then I'll be able to come see you for Christmas! By the way, how are things going at Hogwarts? I hope things have improved, you seemed a bit down when you wrote your last letter. Anyway, thinking of you!

Sincerely,

Watcher Tonks

There was a small smiley face drawn next to where Tonks had written her name and Harry broke out into a small grin as he read it. He found himself quite excited to reply to this letter and be able to report that he was doing significantly better than before, minus the broken hand and temporary removal from the quidditch team.

He had jotted out a response and was tying his letter to Hedwig's leg when Hermione entered the room. He smiled at her before turning back to watch Hedwig soar from the window. After a moment, Harry returned to his bed and Hermione spoke.

"What were you sending?" She asked inquisitively.

"Just a letter to my friend Tonks." Harry replied.

Hermione nodded, and Harry felt an awkward silence descend around them. For the past several days, Hermione had seemed bothered by something during her visits to the Hospital Wing. Harry, being ever-curious, had spent a fair amount of time wondering about this. He turned back to his books, hoping to distract himself from the situation. Just as he was beginning to read, he heard Hermione begin talking.

"Harry—" she began, pausing for a moment before continuing. "Harry, Headmaster Dumbledore summoned me to his office the other day to ask about what happened with Faust."

Harry immediately felt his stomach clench with worry. "He knows?"

"I'm not sure." Hermione admitted. "He said he had heard about a fight between students, but didn't know who was involved."

"You didn't tell him anything, did you?"

Hermione scoffed. "Of course not. Really, do you think I'm that daft?"

Harry's face reddened slightly at her prodding. He was still quite unused to the casual joking insults that his fellow students, especially Ron, traded freely. He always felt as if he was at fault when they were directed at him. Unfortunately, Hermione noticed his silence.

"Oh Harry," she started. "I didn't mean it seriously." She met his eyes. "Anyway, that wasn't why I brought it up. I don't believe Headmaster Dumbledore intends to punish any of us, even if he does know what happened. I—" she paused again and a faint red tinge rose to her cheeks before she finished. "I overheard Professor McGonagall and Headmaster Dumbledore talking. He said your family—he said they hurt you." She trailed off, clearly waiting for some response without voicing a question.

Harry felt his sweaty hands turning clammy. He looked anywhere but Hermione. What would she think of him? She knew his secret. It was out. He was a little freak who couldn't stand up to a fat little boy and an even fatter uncle. He was weak. Would Hermione hate him? It seemed only fair; he hated himself. Would she be angry at him? So far he had kept everyone from knowing, or so he thought. Apparently, Dumbledore had figured it out somehow.

Harry, to his surprise, felt his hands shaking. He felt unjustifiably afraid. This realization only made him angry at himself. He tried to push down all of his feelings of fear and self-loathing to focus on how to respond, but all he could think in that moment was that he was worthless. A cold seemed to creep out from the center of his being, enveloping him.

Hermione watched Harry as his mind raced.

"Harry?" She said after several quiet minutes in which he stared at the stone floor.

Harry jerked at her voice and let his eyes rest on her again. He tried to speak, but found that his mouth was inordinately dry. He cleared his throat roughly, but still couldn't seem to find the right words.

"Harry, what did they do to you?" Hermione's soft, pitying tone filled Harry with shame. He was like a lame dog that people looked at and bemoaned why no one put it out of its misery. He wanted to run. All at once, he realized he had to get away from Hermione. If he never answered, maybe she'd let it go. Maybe—

"Harry," Hermione's voice, though young, had taken on an unmistakably commanding tone. "listen to me. I don't know what happened with you and your family, but you have to tell someone. Maybe Professor Dumbledore could get you out of there. You wouldn't have to go through it anymore. You deserve to be safe, Harry."

There was a pregnant pause before Harry spoke. "I'm a freak. Freaks don't deserve anything, they take what they're given and do as they're told." His uncle's words flowed easily from his mouth and Hermione's jaw dropped open.

"Don't you dare say that." Hermione said indignantly. "You aren't a freak, you're my friend." She said this with all the sureness of an eleven-year-old who needed no firmer logic; as if being her friend made Harry incapable of being anything bad.

Harry locked eyes with Hermione, and he felt a surge of gratitude toward her in that moment. She had called him her friend. He felt tears filling his eyes and looked down, speaking slowly. "You're not angry? You don't think I'm a freak?"

Hermione's voice softened until he could hear her sadness. "No, Harry."

Harry wiped his eyes with his right sleeve and continued looking at the floor. Hermione eventually spoke again. "Harry, what exactly did they do to you?"

Images of beatings again flashed through Harry's mind and he felt like he wanted to run again. "I—I can't—" He cut off. She wasn't angry at him now, but if he told her he didn't know how she'd react. What if she thought he was weak for not fighting back? What if she thought he was a monster for almost burning Dudley? He couldn't do it. He realized he was shaking his head back and forth and muttering. "No. No. No. No. No."

"Harry. Harry!" She said, finally drawing his attention. "It's okay, you don't have to tell me. I'm sure it's hard." Harry was surprised to see that there were tears in her eyes. His fear about Hermione lessened dramatically at her statement, but a new concern arose.

"Please," He said. "please don't tell anyone. I don't want people to know. They'll think I'm weak."

Harry saw fire leap into Hermione's eyes at that statement. "You most certainly aren't weak." She reached to take Harry's hand and he recoiled, expecting the familiar pain of a strike. Her expression was thoughtful. "You're strong, Harry. I hope someday you tell me what happened so I know how strong you are. Don't worry, I won't talk to anyone about this. It'll be our secret." Hermione smiled at him and Harry felt an enormous weight leave him. She still wanted to be his friend.

After this, Harry and Hermione sat in the Hospital Wing doing homework together and chatting about nothing important. At times, tension arose where Hermione clearly wanted to know more about what had happened, but she didn't ask. Harry knew that somehow, he hadn't convinced her he was horrible. He smiled often, and for the rest of the day all Harry Potter could think about was that Hermione Granger, the smartest witch in their year, told him he was strong.

A/N: Well there's chapter 17 : ). I had a lot more planned for this chapter, but I now realize that it would have been about 10,000 words if not more if I had put everything in there, so I decided to cut it here. Thank you for reading, please review and tell me your thoughts. I'm still not sure whether I should continue in this story for book 2 or start a new story/thread, please let me know. Thank you so much.

Where were you when I was disguising mistakes with goodbyes?