"Well…"

Harry hesitated.

"I took a trip past the dog," he said, looking at Hermione. She had her moments, but the way she reacted to things was beginning to wear on him.

Hermione looked like she didn't even know what to say for a moment.

"I should tell someone, before you get yourself killed or something," she muttered.

Harry paused. Suppressing a spike of irritation, he thought about what to say carefully.

"I would like to think you are my friend, Hermione," he started. Hermione looked up at him with a slightly surprised expression.

"...but if you did that, I don't think we could be friends." Harry was taught to avoid ultimatums, but all things had their time and place.

"What! But what you are doing is wrong! And dangerous! You're already hurt and you'll get caught and… and... you'll lose points!" Hermione said in a rush, a flustered expression on her face.

"Maybe," Harry said calmly. "But the fact is I have to be able to trust my friends. You ought to know by now I'm not going to change, and if I can't tell you things without you telling others, knowing I don't want that, then I can't trust you."

Hermione stood there for a moment and made a frustrated noise. She fidgeted.

"...Fine," she said bitterly, looking down. "You're going to get in trouble eventually, whether I say anything or not."

Hermione sat down a few feet from Lily.

After a few minutes of silence, during which Lily finished applying the various potions, she spoke.

"So what did you find?"

Harry gave a short laugh. She reddened, but looked at him challengingly.

"Well, under the trapdoor is a long shaft. At the bottom is a Devil's Snare. That is how I was injured," Harry answered shortly.

Hermione mouthed something to herself. She seemed bewildered for a moment, then snapped her head up.

"Wait. Devil's Snare… How are you alive?"

Harry grinned. "I have no idea what you mean." He couldn't resist provoking her.

Hermione's shriek of frustration could be heard all the way down the hall.

Harry was lying in his bed that evening, when Medea spoke.

"Harry."

Medea had been oddly quiet since last night. Harry had wondered why, but he knew she would just clam up if he had asked.

"Yeah?"

"I… need to apologize. I shouldn't have asked you to go down there. I've always been a bit… impulsive."

"You don't seem very impulsive to me." The only time Harry could recall her acting impulsive was when she was shopping.

"I try to restrain myself most of the time. It is rare that I do something this… monumentally foolish." She sounded bitter. "The last time was the Grail war, actually. As you know, I was summoned by a terrible Master. I contrived so that he wasted every command seal. And then rather than simply incapacitating him… I found myself so disgusted with our contract that I killed him to be rid of it. It was only afterward I gave any real thought to what I had done. I tried to reach a temple where the ley lines converged, but… I didn't make it."

Harry sighed. She had always glossed over the end to that story.

"It isn't all on you, you know. I knew it was a stupid idea and I still did it."

Medea laughed. "...I suppose."

Harry cut his arm again. Wincing, he aimed his wand at the wound and said carefully, "Episkey." The tear knitted back together slightly. Harry repeated the healing spell three more times before the wound closed completely.

Harry eyed the blood. "Scourgify." The blood vanished. Harry had learned the hard way not to use that spell on an open wound. The way it interacted with an unbroken chain of 'mess' continuing into the flesh was… painful.

He moved the knife to cut his arm again, when he was interrupted.

"Harry? What are you doing?"

Glancing toward the door, he saw Hermione looking at his arm.

"...Are you cutting yourself?" she said in an incredulous tone.

Harry laughed. "How else am I going to practice healing spells?"

Hermione looked slightly ill. "Surely there is a better solution…" She shook her head suddenly.

"I know you seem to have this super-prepared thing going and I do approve of learning but you really shouldn't be going so far as to start cutting yourself up!" Hermione said, her voice rising as she spoke.

"So, what is Lily up to," Harry deflected. He knew Hermione wouldn't approve of any reasoning he was willing to give. Not that she'd approve of the reasons he wasn't willing to give either…

"I assume she is off doing whatever it is you last told her to do," Hermione said, frowning. She seemed bothered by Lily's tendency to do whatever Harry told her without question— somewhat ironic, given how she was about teachers and rules.

Still, she didn't bring it up directly anymore. She had a habit of phrasing questions such that the answers she did not like sounded wrong. This backfired when instead of defending herself Lily just got upset and refused to talk to her.

"That's just how she is," Harry said lightly, putting the knife down.

"She doesn't act like that with anyone else!"

To be honest, Harry was curious himself, but he wasn't going to set off that mess, especially with Hermione around.

"So what brings you up here?" Harry asked idly, standing up. He brushed off his pants and robe.

"It's Halloween, you know. The feast is about to start, why are you up here?"

Harry sighed. "I don't really celebrate Halloween. It is also the day my parents died, you know."

Hermione gave him a surprised look. "Oh! I should have thought of that, I knew that…"

She paused. "Are you going to just sit up here cutting yourself then?" Harry gave her a flat look.

"That sounds a lot worse than it really is when you say it like that."

"Surely there is another way to practice, I can't imagine wizards going about cutting each other," Hermione said.

"If you must know, the standard practice is to injure animals repeatedly, then test on more humanlike magical creatures until you are sufficiently skilled to work on 'people'."

"What!" Hermione said in shock. "I can't believe that! That's monstrous!"

"Wizards do not have the same morality as muggles," Harry said tiredly. "Theirs is… older. They do not ask the mouse if it wants to be a teacup, or if the conjured bird wishes to vanish. Creatures, with or without intelligence... they don't have rights. Even wizards have very few rights. You don't see me suing the people publishing those ridiculous children's books, do you?"

Hermione just stared at him.

"I'm guessing you didn't know. I'm not surprised, someone seems to have gone out of their way to whitewash everything for the muggleborns, from the books to the food. No roast swan for dinner here." Harry gave a small, grim smile. "You should do the research, you'll see what I'm talking about."

"I… what… I need to..." Hermione walked out mumbling about checking her books.

Harry picked up the knife.

Harry wandered the halls. After discussing it with Medea, he felt it would be useful to talk to every ghost in Hogwarts. After all, they had been here longer than even Dumbledore. If anyone knew interesting things, it would be them.

Currently, he was looking for 'Moaning Myrtle'. Apparently, she haunted the first floor girl's bathroom. When he pointed out that didn't sound very nice, Sir Nicholas merely said that she died there and was exorcised, and if I wanted to know anything more ask her.

Medea was very interested in wizard ghosts, for obvious reasons.

"Myrtle?" Harry called out questioningly at the entrance to the bathroom.

There was no reply.

Hesitantly, Harry opened the door and stepped inside. The bathroom was empty. Harry paused. Nicholas said Myrtle's bathroom was out of order…

A deep grunt came from behind him.

Harry turned around, and stared at the rather large troll filling the doorway.

"...Medea?"

"Mm— ...What."

There was silence for a moment.

"...you know, after the corridor I seriously considered mugging a policeman in Belfast and sending you a submachine gun. But then I decided I was overreacting."

"In the future, feel free to overreact," Harry said in a monotone.

The troll focused on him and started lumbering forward, knocking sinks loose with its club without even noticing.

Harry pulled out his wand and pointed it at the troll. It looked at him stupidly.

"Fuck it. Lumos solem."

A searingly bright beam of light hit the troll in the face. It roared, reeling back, its club smashing into the wall. Harry ran toward the door, angling to pass the troll on it's left.

The troll suddenly started swinging the club blindly. As it approached his head Harry dropped into a roll, coming back up onto his feet. The club slammed into the other wall, shards of stone flying. Harry couldn't help a pained noise when a few shards sliced him.

Blinking furiously, the troll turned, shattering through another wall with its club. Harry was struck by more fragments of stone as he dived through the door.

Harry quickly turned and pointed his wand at the doorway.

"Colloportus colloportus colloportus." The door swung in fitful starts, finally shutting and clicking.

Harry ran toward the door and slapped his hand to it.

—Boundless space—

Harry's circuits lit. "Analysis. Reinforce." Harry structurally grasped and reinforced the door as far as he dared. Traceries of light etched themselves across its surface, straight lines splitting and changing paths in jagged patterns.

The door shuddered as the troll slammed it, but it appeared to be holding.

Harry eyed the door as he ran. Just as he reached the end of the corridor, he saw McGonagall come running in the other end, followed by Snape and Quirrell.

He'd leave them to it.

The students were in an uproar about the troll. Some of the rumors even claimed that Harry defeated it. Harry assumed this was just speculation, since he wasn't questioned. Someone must have noticed his absence from the feast.

Harry was amused to hear the Charms professor had spent several hours examining the bathroom door before the last dregs of his reinforcement faded.

"The corridor was bad enough, but at least that was something you had to seek out. But this is just… I don't even have words."

"What is the status of the house?" Harry interrupted. Medea had gone over the same things several times by this point.

"Mh? Oh, it isn't too bad. Without the need for Alteration, the elves could install most of it. The actual defenses are in place."

"So… you think we could smuggle Lily out? I think I need to re-evaluate things and I don't think she would handle it well if I left her here alone," Harry said.

"If she is being watched, they will notice. But they probably won't be able to follow. If they do… it won't be a problem." Medea sounded amused by the thought. "Everything suspicious is below ground, just so you know. Do you have any intention as regards Hermione?"

Harry thought about it for a moment. "Not sure yet. I take it you have no opinion?"

"Well… I'm fine with it. She would provide more data on wizards, I suppose. Obviously we would keep magecraft away from anyone we bring here."

Harry headed to breakfast. When he got there, he saw Hermione and Lily were not present.

He frowned but sat down anyway. Looking around, he saw several of the teachers looking at him. Snape, though, seemed to be limping. Harry narrowed his eyes. That was strange.

Shrugging it off, Harry started eating. After a few minutes, someone tapped on his shoulder.

Harry turned around to see a Slytherin girl with glasses shuffling nervously. She handed him a note and ran off. He opened it.

"I've heard terrible things about you from Malfoy. But I know better than to just believe anything I'm told. I spoke to Crabbe and Goyle, and I find what you did wasn't to show him up at all. I'd like to speak to you, should you have the time.

Parkinson."

It could be a trap. But even if it was, Parkinson sounded far more reasonable than most students. Which he still needed to make an effort to talk to more of…

Harry decided to write a reply after he ate and send it via… hm. He'd have to give this some thought.

Harry discussed the letter with Medea. She felt that he should send his reply in the same fashion. In the end Harry had Lily take a letter to Parkinson at lunch. It was short, saying only that he was willing to listen, with directions to an unused classroom and a time.

He had stolen several chairs and a couch and placed them in the room. Right now, he was sitting in one of the chairs, waiting.

It wasn't long before Harry heard footsteps outside. The door opened slowly.

Pansy Parkinson slipped in the doorway carefully. She had brown hair and a hard face. Her wand was in her hand, though she had it at her side. She was looking at him and around the room carefully.

"If you don't trust me, why did you come?" Harry asked, leaning back.

Pansy snorted. "I came because I don't know what to make of you, and I don't like that."

She walked over to a chair and sat down on it carefully. Pansy looked at him.

"The first thing I heard about you was from Malfoy. He was complaining about how you had no respect for your betters, trying to fool him or some such. But nobody else says much about you, so I asked Malfoy's little guards." Pansy waved her hand lazily as she spoke.

"Apparently, what you did was as simple as telling him you hadn't seen Harry Potter. Not what I would have expected. But what I really found interesting was your spat over the, ah, muggleborn girl." Pansy smiled at him.

"Oh?" Harry said idly.

"Yes. You didn't say much, didn't even reply to him until he started insulting your pet. But then you, what, lost your patience with the boy? Just grabbed him by the collar with a look like you could kill him and it wouldn't bother you at all. Then you freeze, tell him he's nobody, and walk away."

Pansy leaned back, crossing her arms. "Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived? I'm not some idiot girl to care about you not dying at the age of one. But the boy in that hall… well, he's interesting."

Harry's face went blank. "You're going to have to be more specific about what you want, Parkinson."

Slowly, she leaned forward.

Harry looked at her.

"I want you to show me something special. That you aren't just an overblown orphan Ravenclaw." Pansy paused. "As for why you should… the girls in Slytherin? In my year, they're mine. If you are as interesting as I'm thinking, you would have some use for students in Slytherin. If only because they shouldn't be quite as stupid as what you have to work with."

Harry thought for a moment, then lit his circuits. Pansy seemed to tense slightly, even though he knew there was nothing she could sense. Perhaps from his face?

Harry leaned toward her and reached out his hand, palm up. Pansy looked at him.

"Your hand," Harry said. Pansy eyed him, then gave him her hand.

Harry raised his other hand in clear view, then pushed prana directly into her.

Pansy seized up and made an agonized sound. She shuddered and fell back into her chair, hand slipping from his. She whimpered.

Harry leaned back. After about a half a minute broken by the occasional unintelligible noise, Pansy stopped shaking.

"What… Potter?" She blinked, then focused on him. "What the hell was that?"

"Was that interesting enough?" Harry asked curiously.

"If by interesting you mean painful! But yes, I saw, no wand." It seemed being given a pulse of foreign prana and the subsequent seizure had left her a bit off her game. Which was the point.

He knew it wouldn't cause any lasting damage. Or it didn't for any of Medea's adult test subjects, anyway. Usually.

"I'm not going to explain what I did just now. You have your proof I'm not 'just another Ravenclaw'. If you want more you are going to have to prove yourself useful."

Pansy looked at him. "If you think I'm just going to fall in line like one of your pet Ravens—"

Harry slid out of his chair, grabbed her shoulder, and pushed more prana than last time.

Pansy shook for about a minute, that time. Harry grabbed her hand just as she came out of it.

"Ugh, you made me bite my tongue!" Even as she complained she was looking at him nervously.

"Collateral damage," Harry said calmly. "You shouldn't start a game if you can't go without a win, Parkinson." He traced her palm with his thumb. She looked at her hand like it was a snake.

"What do you want, Potter," she said bitingly.

"You can tell me what Malfoy, or anyone else, says about me in the future, for one," Harry said. "Other than that… I don't suppose Slytherin has a library?" He looked up at her inquisitively.

"Fine, I'll tell you whatever, let go of my hand," she said, pulling her hand away. "Slytherin has a small library. Nothing like Ravenclaw, I'm sure. Probably more useful. What about it."

"Just curious." Harry smiled at her.

"Yeah… whatever." Pansy got up and moved towards the door. She stopped halfway through.

"I'll figure you out, Potter," she said as she slipped out.

Harry sat in the room for a while, thinking.

chapter end

A/N:

A guest commented about Medea's legend, suggesting she cared too much about Harry and the cupboard and so on in ch1.

She didn't care about Harry. She was offended by the abuse on principle, because it was pointless, it did not and could not achieve anything. The Dursleys offended her because they were stupid. In fact, she didn't see them as any better than animals, hence her offering to kill them as a way to endear Harry, who was actually of some value.

It is true she murdered her own children in a popular version of her legend. However, there are various analysis's of that that suggest she had reasons that made sense to her in that era, reasons that do not apply here and definitely don't cover pointless abuse. Finally, popularity of a given version of the legend is irrelevant; spirits are from a "true" history, not just legend, or Arturia would be a dude.

...Still, given your interpretation came up at all. I went back and revised that paragraph. It should be better now.

Prana seizure looted from "SV steps into the Moonlit World (Nasuverse Quest)".

I've tried to add more description around dialogue in this chapter. Criticism would help here. In the other direction, I still think I put too much fluff in my sentences sometimes.

Also, question: For the purposes of extracting [verifiable] information from an unwilling subject, would you say the threat of pain, or the withholding of pleasure is more effective? This will become more relevant eventually.