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Evil as Plain as the Scar on His Face
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It was September 1, 1992, and Harry James Potter was just stepping out of his taxi at King's Cross Station, the cabbie helping him with his trunk. Harry was entering his Second Year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. After an uneventful summer, he was looking forward to returning to his world, the world of magic. Growing up over the past decade in the Muggle World, it just felt wrong living at the orphanage now. Being at Hogwarts felt right, like he belonged there, like he was home. While Hogwarts wasn't perfect, it felt knew he belonged there more than he belonged at the orphanage and he knew without a doubt he belonged there more than he had ever belonged at the Dursley's.

Shaking those memories out of his mind, Harry focused on the upcoming school year and the excitement that was sure to come.

Giving the cabbie a tip, he shouldered his knapsack and began pulling his trunk behind him, looking for Platform's 9 and 10. It was Tuesday just before 10 so there wasn't too many people, the work day having started a few hours before. So if he started running at the entrance to Platform 9 ¾ it would look extremely suspicious. Instead, he made his way over, leaning back against the wall casually, waiting for the magic to recognize him and let him through.

Confusion filled him as nothing happened. Pushing a little harder, still, nothing happened.

What was going on? The platform couldn't be closed so why couldn't he enter?

Looking around, the messy haired boy resigned himself to waiting for a family to come and help him. Sliding down the barrier, Harry pulled out his journal, not having had time this morning to write anything down. There was a lot to write about. The orphanage had been in a flurry of activity the past fortnight. The staff had informed the children that they had ten months to find them new homes, be it permanent ones or foster homes or just to another orphanage. Harry had known it was only a matter of time, a wave of deinstitutionalization was sweeping the nation. People were horrified learning about the life they lived and wanted to be seen taking a stance for the 'poor children'. Personally, Harry found it disgusting. It was these same people who refused to give the orphanage money to actually take care of the kids, the same ones who hurried along a little faster when they saw one of them.

Where was the outrage when his uncle was able to drop him off, no questions asked?

Where was the outrage when he went to school for a week with a broken arm before anyone noticed and said anything?

No, Harry knew he didn't belong in this world. If he had been in the wizarding world, none of this would've happen. No one would overlook something so severe, of that he was sure.

Dot, the head caretaker, promised that they were going to work on his case while he was away at school. Secretly, he was hoping the Headmaster would let him stay over the summers until he graduated as he literally would have nowhere else to go and if he was put in a foster home, it'd be harder to hide his magic from them as he couldn't exactly go around telling every foster house he'd have that he was a wizard!

Dammit, school hasn't even started and he's already stressing over this! He'd already spent the past fortnight going over how to approach the Headmaster about his request and the anxiety was still clawing at him. What if the Headmaster denied his request?

The hooting of an owl drew his attention. Bingo! A wizarding family of five was approaching the barrier. Moving to the side, Harry watched blankly as the father went first with his daughter, who appeared to be a first-year. The clattering of metal confirmed his theory: the barrier was blocked.

"What's going on da? Why can't we go through?" the brown haired girl asked, most likely never having experienced this before.

The husband turned to his wife, anxiousness written across his face, "Something's blocking the barrier."

She looked worriedly at the barrier, "Should we contact the Ministry?"

They would start to draw attention if they stayed there any longer. Three kids with odd-looking trunks and a caged owl didn't scream muggle.

"Ah! No need," the father motioned to another group entering the platform. "Felix should be able to take a look."

Their little group grew by four and Harry was anxious to get through to the Hogwarts Express.

Skipping the pleasantries, Harry observed as the adults seemed to get right down to business. From what he could hear, this Felix person worked for the Ministry in the Warding Department.

Noting that in his notebook – Harry promised to look more into it later – he narrowed his eyes as he saw the first man discretely wave his wand around the group while Felix stepped closer to the barrier. It appeared the group had either yet to notice Harry or were ignoring him as the man didn't even spare him a glance. Harry had to stop his hand moving to flatten his hair over his scar. The black crow's nest had grown a few inches so his bangs could cover his scar completely. But it was a force of habit picked up at the Dursleys and carried over when witches and wizards would ogle his scar.

Felix waved his wand, mumbling a few incantations under his breath and tapped the bricks. Humming, he stepped back. "It has been tampered with. Someone activated the emergency wards that bar both the entrance and exit for the platform. I reset it but Chris and I should go in first, make sure nothing else was tampered with."

"Mum, why are there emergency wards on the platform?" It was the little girl speaking, her inquiry's making her a sure put for Ravenclaw, Harry thought. Not that there was anything wrong with that, Harry being one himself. She had shifted from her father's side to her mother's, most likely concluding it to be the safest place.

Her mother patted her hair as the two men entered Platform 9 ¾ with wands raised. "During the war, the Ministry placed wards around the platform in case there was an attack so people had a safe place to go."

One of the older boys scoffed at that logic, "So then you'd be sitting ducks during an attack."

"Nicolas!" A quick reprimand from his mother silenced any retort his brother had it seemed. Harry watched their interaction in interest. It always fascinated him to observe family dynamic and made him think of what his own would've been like had his parents not been killed.

An awkward silence took over the two families as they waited for the men to return. Only a few minutes elapsed before they were appearing in front of the barrier again, giving the all clear. "There was no sign of anyone but I sent word to the Ministry to send a team of Aurors to take a look."

Harry quickly put his notebook away after scribbling down – aurors? – and followed closely behind the last person. He didn't want those wards suddenly closing on him again.

Smoke filled the air as he finally made it to Platform 9 ¾ and he greedily took in the sight of the scarlet train. He was going home.

/

Being one of the first people on the train had its advantages: He had the pick of the carriages. He chose one close to the front that way a majority of people wouldn't keep walking by to ogle him. He had gotten lucky last year as no one knew him but this year that anonymity was gone.

Pulling out his most recent book, 1001 Every Day Charms, from his knapsack and gripping his wand, he relished in actually being able to perform magic. He had felt naked all summer, unable to use his magic. The downside of living in an orphanage, other than the obvious, was that he rarely had time alone. Someone was always nearby and while Dot and the others were okay, he really couldn't stand being around them for long periods of time.

A knock broke his concentration.

Looking up, Harry noticed a nervous looking red-haired girl in the doorway. He raised an eyebrow at her fidgety figure.

"Um, everywhere else is full. Do you mind?" she managed to squeak out, probably half expecting him to turn her away.

Must be a first-year, Harry thought in fondness. He remembered his first train ride last year. He motioned to the seat across from him in an invitation. A wave of relief took over her face as she dragged her trunk behind her.

"My brothers were supposed to help me but ran off the moment we boarded." She sighed as he helped her stow her trunk. "I'm Ginny, by the way, Ginny Weasley." She pushed her hair back as she introduced herself, her nervousness from before quickly fading.

Harry could see the resemblance to his year mate, Ron. If he was the brother she was talking about, he could wholeheartedly believe that he ran off without helping her. He didn't have a very good reputation.

"Those are crappy brothers," he stuck his hand out to shake hers, "I'm Harry."

Ginny smiled at him and Harry couldn't help noticing all the freckles adorning her face. They suited her.

"So what house do you think you'll be in? Gryffindor like your brothers?" his voice inquiring, as they started small talk.

A smile broke out, pride shining in her eyes, "That's what I'm aiming for! It's a family tradition."

Harry wondered what house his parents had been in. Were they in Ravenclaw or Gryffindor? Were they even in the same house?

"What about you?" her voice broke him out of his musing.

"Hmm? I'm in Ravenclaw?" he half-smiled, holding up his book like that explained everything.

Her laughter filled the compartment. Harry looked at her in confusion, what had he said?

She giggled, "It's nothing; I just, I wouldn't picture you a Ravenclaw."

Harry huffed in faux indignation, "Well, I can already tell you're a Gryffindor."

They fell into a comfortable conversation flow, each trading stories, becoming more and more comfortable with the other.

It grew dark and that meant they were getting closer to the castle. It also meant Ginny's nerves began to grow. Harry tried to reassure her that it was nothing to worry about, remembering his own reservations last year.

"You'll go up there and the Sorting Hat will barely touch your head before it declares you a Gryffindor."

Ginny sent him a weak smile, knowing he was trying to help calm her. Surprisingly, it helped. She had all these expectations from her family because of her brothers that she was worried about messing up. But with Harry, he didn't know her family or her brothers. He just saw her, Ginny. To be honest, it was refreshing to step out of her brother's shadows and be seen as herself.

Ginny moved to exit the compartment before pausing, "We're friends, right? You'll still talk to me after I'm sorted?"

Harry felt his stomach roll. He hadn't really had a friend at Hogwarts. His dorm-mates were more of acquaintances than actual friends. Biting his lip, he couldn't keep the smile off his face, "Find me at lunch tomorrow?"

Ginny turned her back to him to hide her blush, happiness filling her at his response.

Harry exited the train feeling better and better about this year. He'd made a friend.

/

Just like he predicted, Ginny was sorted into Gryffindor with the hat barely touching her head. She threw a bright smile his way as she raced to her older brothers who congratulated her. The girl from the platform had also gone into Ravenclaw just like he had predicted.

With a few words of greeting from Professor Dumbledore, the feast appeared on the tables and famished, Harry began to dig in.

"How was your summer Harry?" a voice to the left grabbed his attention. It was Padma Patil.

Smiling, he put his silverware down and finished chewing. "It was okay. Mainly roamed around London and Diagon Alley when I could." He noticed some of the others listening in. "It was an adjustment after being here all school year."

"I know the feeling. I didn't think it'd be weird spending 27/7 with Parvarti again but it was an adjustment. I mean we see each other every day here but it's different being home." Padma tried to explain. Her twin and she were the best of friends but they had both grown last year. They had different groups of friends and found different interests. They had to relearn each other over the summer.

This opened the conversation up for the other second years.

"Me mum was hovering all summer! You'd think I was dying the way she was acting!" Terry Boot grumbled, stabbing his roast.

Anthony Goldstein leaned into Harry, to explain away some of his confusion, "Terry's the youngest of three. So he's the last to attend Hogwarts. His mum don't like to think that he's growing up."

Harry didn't understand but then again, he didn't have a mum so maybe that was normal for parents.

"Did you do anything over the summer?"

Anthony shared an excited smile with Harry, "I actually visited some relatives in the States. That's a strange place, let me tell you."

"Do they have a school like Hogwarts?" He hadn't read anything about magic in the United States or any other country for that matter. Did every country have a school like Hogwarts or were they different? Was the magic different?

Another voice cut into their conversation, "Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

It was Morag MacDougal. Harry wasn't sure he had ever heard her speak before. She usually kept to herself or stuck close to Mandy Brocklehurst.

The conversation that took over was in-depth and informative as they discussed their summer assignments and what they thought about the curriculum this year. Harry mainly listened, chiming in from time to time but mostly he found his gaze wondering to Ginny over at the Gryffindor table. She fit right in, just like he had known she would. Her gaze met his and they shared a smile before he noticed the person next to her nudged her side. Harry watched as they exchanged a few words and Ginny's wide, horrified eyes met his before averting them to her plate, red staining her face.

Harry frowned, already guessing what had happened. It was the reason he hadn't given his last name. No one could treat him normally once they found out he was Harry Potter.

He started poking around dejectedly at his food, wondering if Ginny would treat him the same now that she knew who he was.

/

His class schedule furthered dampened his mood the next morning: History of Magic in the morning and double Potions in the afternoon. He had hoped he could put off seeing the Potion's Professor for a few more days. It was like the forces out there couldn't see him happy for a single day. Not even the mouth-watering smells of breakfast could lift his mood after Professor Flitwick handed him his schedule.

A similar sentiment was heard amongst the second year Ravenclaws when they examined their schedule.

"Professor Binns and Professor Snape in the same day!" Terry moaned into his arms, nearly dumping his goblet of pumpkin juice.

Anthony and Padma were more subtle in their displeasure. At least he wasn't the only one dreading today.

Disregarding the obvious, Harry could tell this year was going to be good. With the awkwardness of last year gone, Harry felt himself falling right in with his housemates. Finding conversations more and more open for him and understanding the wizarding references a lot better. He wasn't afraid to join in in the nightly discussions the boys had before bed and they weren't afraid to explain anything he didn't understand. That was the hard part of last year, being the only one not raised or having any knowledge of the magical world. Already feeling uncomfortable with everyone knowing who he was, things were only made worse when he had no idea what the boys were talking about. So he just kept his head down and learned as much as he could last year. This year was going to be different, he promised himself.

At the orphanage, there weren't really such things as friends. You never knew who would leave and when. Better not to get too attached. School wasn't any better. It was a pretty nice public school they went to in London but the kids knew who they were and made it known in how they interacted with them. They couldn't participate in school activities or clubs because they didn't have the money and no one wanted to be friends with Freaky Harry who always had weird things happening around him.

Here, after last year, he was hoping people would begin to treat him like any other student. It seemed to calm down after a few months but there were still a few persistent kids. Living with the other boys all last year, it was obvious to them he was nothing special, that he was just like them so they didn't treat him any different. Around his housemates, he found himself in study groups occasionally mingling with Hufflepuffs. He could tell Professor Flitwick was proud when he asked Padma to be his partner in Charms instead of working by himself. The same with Professor McGonagall.

Despite his promise, more often than not, he found himself seeking out solitude. Living in the castle could feel claustrophobic at times with so many children in corridors, in rooms, in the Great Hall. Being alone allowed him to clear his head, to satisfy his curiosity. His exploration of the castle last year left him with more questions than answers. His trusted cloak helped him there. The only possession he owed that connected him to his parents. After receiving it as a Christmas present last year from an anonymous source, Harry had put it to good use in his nightly wanderings.

The Weasley Twins still managed to find him under his Invisibility Cloak. He had to be more careful on his little nightly strolls. There had been a few close calls where they had almost got him caught by Filch. He didn't trust them but at the same time, they hadn't said anything about his cloak which he was sure they were suspicious of. He would much rather avoid them all together, thank you very much.

It was the third weekend of September and Harry was outside, like a majority of his classmates, enjoying the mild weather. His books were neatly tucked into his knapsack, having only recently completed his Charms essay on the wand movement and uses of Lumos and how to increase the power of the spell. He had found it easy to drop back into this familiar routine.

His relaxing afternoon came to an abrupt conclusion when he found himself being rudely dragged away from the practice snitch his eyes had been following for the past five minutes.

A voice roughly demanded of him before he could get his barring's straight, "That snitch, you were following it?" There was a hint of giddiness in the voice.

Squeezing his eyes to stop the spinning, Harry tried to form words, "Wha-? Um…yeah, it's not that hard."

That was apparently the wrong thing to say as instead of being left alone under his tree, Harry found himself being dragged to the Quidditch Pitch. "Have you ever played Quidditch? Do you have a broom? You do have a seeker's build." The boy dragging him continued on, speaking at Harry, not giving him time to answer any of his multitude of questions.

Who was this guy? Seriously? Who just kidnaps a kid relaxing, minding his own business?

"Here," a broom was thrust into his hands, "I want you to fly to the center of the pitch while I release the Snitch. Catch it as fast as you can."

"Who…um…who exactly are you?" Harry asked, unsurely.

"Derrick Hopkins, seventh-year Quidditch Captain. Now I want you to do exactly as I said." The now identified Derrick, demanded with no room for objections.

For some reason, Harry found himself obeying the older student. His 180 cm stature easily dwarfed him and he had a tone that made Harry feel like if he said jump he should ask how high. Gripping the well-worn wooden handle, Harry felt free as he lifted up off the ground. Sure he had flown last year with the rest of the first years but he had rarely been able to go flying freely after that.

Doing a few loops and turns, the bespectacled boy readied himself for the snitch. It shouldn't be too hard. He had been able to follow it during last year's games.

Derrick released the snitch and, waiting for his go-ahead, Harry raced.

The wind rushing through his hair and the weightlessness of flying amplified his adrenaline rush. He could stay up here forever as he tracked the tiny golden ball. He lost it for a second as it took a sudden plunge but he was right on it not a moment later. This was the most fun he had had in a long time!

They were getting closer to the ground when the snitch made another sharp turn but Harry was right on it and pulling up from the dive, he cut off its escape with a tight grip around the fluttering wings.

The windburn wasn't even noticeable on his face as his facial muscle felt like they were stuck in the largest smile he had ever worn.

Disembarking from his borrowed broom, he found himself rushing to Derrick with the golden ball firmly clutched in his right hand and the broomstick in his left.

"That was…That was amazing!" the excitement was so obvious in his voice, he couldn't contain himself.

When he got close enough to Derrick to see his reaction, he wasn't disappointed. If possible, an even bigger smile was on the seventh-year's face. "Congratulations! You're Ravenclaw's new seeker!"

The ground felt slightly harder, his feet barely making the next step on the soft green grass. He had not been expecting that.

"But I-I don't have a broom! I've never even played Quidditch before!"

Derrick wasn't taking any excuses though. He wanted Harry on his team. No, he needed Harry on his team.

"I'll speak with Professor Flitwick about a broom and as for never playing…you'll learn. Practice is this Saturday at seven o'clock."

This year was definitely turning out better than last year already. With a smile still adorning his face, Harry followed Derrick to the training rooms where he would find his training gear on Saturday.

"Come on, I'll introduce you to some of the team." Harry was really starting to like Derrick. In the two hours he had known him, he hadn't said anything about who he was, didn't try to make him feel inferior, and he put him on the team!

He still couldn't believe it!

"Emily and Ryan are doing an assignment for Care of Magical Creatures right now. They're seventh-years. Emily is a chaser, like me, while Ryan is our keeper. Davies is probably in the library. He's a fourth-year and our last chaser. Finally, Duncan and Samuels are our beaters. Samuels is a sixth-year and Duncan is a fifth-year."

Going over the names, Harry realized minus Davies and himself, this was the same team as last year. He voiced his observation to Derrick.

"Those two graduated last year and this is the best team we've got. Gryffindor has a good team but since Charlie Weasley left, they haven't had a decent seeker. Diggory is one of the best players on Hufflepuff; he's their seeker."

There was a house missing, "And Slytherin?"

Derrick glanced at him, eyebrow raised, as if he really needed to answer that question. "Slytherin has a good team but they lost Higgs last year. It's not talent you need to look out for with them."

And Harry understood what was left unsaid. From what he remembered of the team last year, Slytherin liked to play dirty.

He felt Derrick pause in their walk to the Great Hall. "Actually, go sit with your friends, I see Professor Flitwick leaving. The sooner I can talk to him the quicker we can get you a broom." The seventh-year took off to intercept their head of house but turned around for one last word, "Remember Potter, Saturday at 7."

Still not believing what happened, Harry sat himself down next to Michael Corner and Terry, who immediately started interrogating him.

"Was that Derrick Hopkins you were with? Prefect and Quidditch Captain, Derrick Hopkins?!"

Spooning a handful of grapes onto his plate and grabbing a few sandwiches, Harry let the anticipation build.

"Well?! Why were you with him?" Impatient faces flooded his vision as he bit into a grape.

Deciding he had let the anticipation build long enough, Harry gave them what they wanted, "Apparently I'm the new Ravenclaw Seeker."

"WHAT?!" A few heads turned their way at the exclamations. Seeing it was only a group of second-years, everyone went back to their own conversations.

"Ssshhhh!" Harry tried to keep them quiet.

"Do you know how amazing that is?! Second-years rarely make the House Quidditch Team."

For the first time, Harry didn't mind being the center of attention of their group. He told them all about his flying and how he caught the Snitch. He bashfully brushed it off as nothing as the boys stared at him in amazement. There was a buzz in the hall as they fell into a discussion about Quidditch, the conversation interesting enough to bring input from older years sitting nearby.

The ceiling reflected the general mood: a bright sun with minimal cloud coverage.

From his position at the Head Table, Dumbledore felt a smile take over his face and a twinkle enter his eyes as he observed the normally subdued savior interacting animatedly with his year mates.

"From what I hear, Ravenclaw has found themselves a new Seeker. His father would be proud."

The aged witch next to him held back a scowl. She had wanted the boy to be in her house and now his Quidditch skills were going to another team.

"Now now dear Professor McGonagall, is that jealousy I sense?"

"Gryffindor needs a Seeker." She bit out, no real venom behind her words.

Her disappointment and bitterness were evident as her eyes strayed from her lions to the little eagles.

"Ahh, and young Mr. Potter would've been the perfect fit for your team." Dumbledore nodded knowingly. He knew how passionate his Transfiguration professor was about Quidditch. "I imagine Mr. Wood would've loved to have a talent such as Mr. Potter's. If I may be so bold…perhaps Mr. Hopkins is better suited to take him under his wing?"

Tearing her gaze from the students, McGonagall leveled Dumbledore with a stern look, "You know I had hoped Mr. Potter would be one of my lions, but I only want what's best for him."

They both turned to observe the subject of their conversation. Harry was laughing at something one of the kids had said, immersed in the conversation, unlike last year where he was rarely seen even sitting with his year mates.

Perhaps Quidditch would do some good for the young Mr. Potter.

"Hmmm," Dumbledore hummed thoughtfully, "Has Mr. Potter been to the Trophy Room."

Together the two hatched a plan involving the unsuspecting eagle.

/

Harry had quickly become one of the favorites on the Quidditch team. Derrick became a sort of mentor for Harry. When they were practicing, he would go over strategy with him and how to better his game. He also let him hang around his group of friends. It was rather weird at first, them being 17 and 18, but Harry didn't mind all that much, especially when they would help him with Potions. No one could understand why Snape hated him so much, so between his teammates – to make sure the man couldn't give the second year another detention similar to the one he assigned during a practice – they swore to help him pass Potions.

Soon they were hitting the end of October and Harry honestly didn't know where the time went. Life was good. He was home.

Halloween was only a few days away and there was a cheer in the air that he just couldn't replicate. The closer the 31st got, the more the anticipation built. It had been like this last year too. It was this day that he felt the loss of his parents the greatest. Why did they give their life for him? Why did he survive? Would they be proud of him?

It was with luck that October 31st fell on a Saturday and Derrick had decided to keep the practice short that morning. As they left the changing rooms, Emily stopped to give him a small, understanding smile as the others patted him on the shoulder. They knew their young seeker was hurting today and they knew there wasn't anything they could do to stop the hurt. The best they could do was give him their support.

He needed a quiet place, somewhere lacking student traffic. The best place was the library as most of the students were outside or in the Great Hall enjoying the festivities of the holiday and the weekend. He just couldn't find it in himself to celebrate with the school. He had tried last year and it had been miserable. This year he figured he'd spend it alone, just wandering the castle. Terry and Padma had promised to bring some treats back with them after the feast; they didn't want him to completely miss out on the celebration.

He smiled as he thought about them, his friends. It was pretty amazing the difference between this year and last.

He was roaming the edge of the Restricted Section, hand skimming the worn and used book spines when he heard it: "…rip…tear…kill…"

It was a faint voice, a voice that seemed to freeze his soul, a voice of ice-cold venom. His fingers stilled in their movement across the spine of Magical Diseases: Vol 3.

"…soo hungry….for soo long…"

The voice was getting closer! Harry slammed his leg into the bookcase in his rush to move. His heart rate quickened as he rushed from the library, paying no mind to Madam Pince's yelling about running in her library, no, he had to move. It was a primordial survival instinct that was screaming at him: if he stopped, he'd die!

"…let me rip you…let me tear you…let me kill you…kill…time to kill…"

Harry was up the staircase to the second-floor, chest heaving as he looked around wildly, his glasses slipping down his nose. Where was it?! Where did the voice go?

"…blood…I SMELL BLOOD!"

Harry jumped; the voice was right on top of him! But how? He was the only one in the corridor!

Gathering his courage, the Ravenclaw pulled out his wand, thankful he had remembered to grab it from his study table before his perusal of the bookcases.

"Who are you?" Harry shouted, voice cracking, as he crept down the corridor. "Where are you?"

Silence answered his questions.

"Yes, a murderer would take the time to answer your questions. Use your brain, Potter!" he muttered to himself sarcastically before berating himself.

He'd almost reached the end of the corridor and instead of turning back like any sane person would, he called out a warning.

"Whatever you've done…you won't get away with it. Professor Dumbledore will catch you!"

His wand was gripped tightly in his hand as he pushed his back into the wall, willing his courage not to fail him as he filled his lungs with shaky breaths.

Deep breath…don't do it, do not do it Potter. Harry was fighting an internal battle with himself. He had come this far, one part argued, so go all the way and turn the corner. The other, more rational side, argued back that he didn't know who or what was on the other side and he could be walking to his death.

His determination was too strong; he turned the corner and stopped in his tracks. There, on the wall, shimmering in the light of twin torches, were haunting words. Heart rate now pounding in his chest, threatening to beat right out of his body, hair standing up on his arms and neck, Harry approached the wall. His eyes were glued to the words, convinced the closer he got that they were written in blood.

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPEN, ENEMIES OF THE HEIR BEWARE.

A plethora of thoughts bombarded his scrambled mind: What was the Chamber of Secrets? What heir? And who were its enemies?

His mind didn't have long to think about these questions as his eyes rested on the large shadow hanging behind one of the torches. He eyed the puddle of water on the floor as he neared the wall.

"Bloody-!" Harry cut himself off in shock. This wasn't good, this wasn't good at all. It was Mrs. Norris, the caretaker's cat! She was dead.

It took a moment for his mind to process what his body should be doing. He needed to get out of here and alert someone. If he was found here, at the scene, he knew it would look bad. He had his fair share of wrong-place-wrong-time run-ins at the orphanage.

But it was too late. He had only taken a few steps back when the sound of a hundred feet climbing the staircases assaulted his ears. He stood in the middle of the corridor as silence fell among the mass of students as they spotted the words and the cat.

The lone Ravenclaw darted his eyes from face to face, looking for anyone familiar, anyone who could save him from what was to happen next. There were none.

"Enemies of the Heir, beware?" A gleeful, vicious voice cut through the silence, "You'll be next, Mudbloods!"

It was Draco Malfoy. His eyes alive and face flushed in what Harry could only describe as giddiness. Honestly, based on reactions, Harry felt like they should change places.

Accusatory looks were thrown his way at the declaration, as if he had spoken and not the Slytherin. He tried to back up, put more distance between him and the cat but it didn't lessen the glares, the fear he could feel from the students. He could see some movement from the crowd like someone was pushing their way through but another voice took his attention.

"What's going on here? What's going on?"

Argus Filch came, pushing students out of his way to get to the front of the crowd. When his gaze landed on his precious cat, he fell back, clutching his face in horror.

"My cat! Mrs. Norris! What's happened to Mrs. Norris?" Harry and everyone else could hear the pain in his voice. Everyone knew how much he loved his cat. His dull, popping eyes landed on the sole student next to his cat. "You! You killed my cat! I kill you!"

He advanced on Harry, not caring to ask any questions, already convinced of the student's guilt.

Harry backed up, not liking the look in the caretaker's eyes. But he knew he had nowhere to go.

The crowd seemed to part again as a figure came shoving out, racing towards Harry until it stood, blocking access to the second-year.

It was Derrick!

"I'd think carefully before attacking a student, Mr. Filch." Harry had never heard Derrick use that tone before and suddenly he had a new respect for his Quidditch Captain.

There was tension that hung over the corridor and everyone held their breath to see what would happen next.

"Thank you, Mr. Hopkins, for coming to the defense of your fellow student." Dumbledore swept past the three to Mrs. Norris, quickly detaching her from the torch. A number of teachers had followed the Headmaster and Harry saw a few of them give him curious looks. He stared right back at Snape when the Potion's professor refused to move his gaze. Harry knew the man was suspicious of him, he was always suspicious of him.

"Come with me Argus," Professor Dumbledore said to Filch with a reprimand in his voice that surprised Harry. "You too, Mr. Potter, Mr. Hopkins."

Still looking at Snape, Harry was startled at Dumbledore's request for Derrick to come with them.

"Sir –," he went to protest before he was interrupted by his second least favorite professor.

Lockhart stepped forward, Harry would say, too eagerly.

"My office is nearest, Headmaster – just upstairs – please feel free –"

"Thank you, Gilderoy," said Dumbledore, cutting the Defense professor off.

The silent crowd parted for the Headmaster as those requested followed him, as did Snape and McGonagall and Flitwick. The remaining professors shepherd the students back to their common rooms with the help of the prefects.

He really should've listened to that voice telling him to go the other way, Harry thought in hindsight. If he had, he wouldn't be in this mess now. The caretaker already didn't like him because of his nightly wanderings and now he thought he killed his cat!

His tense shoulders relaxed slightly when he felt the calming hand of Derrick on his shoulder. Glancing up, Harry let out a small sigh. Someone believed in him. He needed all the help he could get. Of the six staff members, two held a healthy dislike (Harry was sure it was full blown hatred) of him and he wasn't sure about the Headmaster. He had seen Professor Dumbledore's gaze linger on him more than once.

The two Ravenclaw's stood back and out of the way when the professors began examining Mrs. Norris on Lockhart's desk.

It took a while but at last, Dumbledore straightened up. Harry looked at him anxiously, waiting for the verdict.

"She's not dead, Argus," he spoke softly to the distraught man.

Harry ignored the exclamations of the Defense professor, focusing on what Dumbledore said next. Not dead? She looked pretty dead to him. Filch seemed to have the same thoughts.

"She has been petrified. But how, I cannot say…" he trailed off in thought as if remembering something important.

"Ask him!" Filch shrieked, pointing accusingly at Harry who moved to defend himself as Derrick moved slightly in front of Harry.

Dumbledore, quite tired of Filch's unfounded accusations, moved to stop the caretaker, "No second-year could have done this. It would take Dark Magic of the most advanced –"

Filch was beyond reason at this point, "He did it, he did it! You saw what he wrote on the wall!"

"Really, Argus? I'll not stand for this slander against my student. What proof, other than circumstantial evidence, do you have that Mr. Potter did what you accuse him off? Practicing Dark Magic is a serious charge." Flitwick may only be 137 cm but he cowered the caretaker into backing away. It was a reminder that the half-goblin had been a Dueling Champion for some time.

Gaining confidence from his Head defending him, Harry finally spoke up, "I never touched Mrs. Norris! I found her like that, like everyone else!"

He was aware of all eyes turning to stare at him.

"If I might speak, Headmaster," drawled Snape, finally stepping out of his dark corner. Harry and Derrick both tensed. "Perhaps, Potter may have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time?"

It was said with a slight sneer curling his mouth as if he doubted his own suggestion. Harry felt his mouth drop open at the unexpected defense.

"But," there it was. Nothing with Snape was ever what it seemed. "We do have a set of suspicious circumstances here. Why was he in the upstairs corridor at all? Why wasn't he at the Halloween feast?"

He was ready to jump to his defense, knowing Snape wanted nothing more than to get him in actual trouble, "I was in the library. Madam Pince can tell you –"

"Yes, but why not go to the feast? Why were you in this corridor?" Snape's eyes glittered in triumph in the candlelight.

All eyes looked at him for an answer. Why hadn't he been at the feast and why had he been in that corridor?

He fumbled for an answer. It sounded stupid to say it, like he was some little kid. Biting his lip, Harry tried to mumble out a response, "I um…I was –"

"Speak up and stop babbling like a buffoon!" Snape snapped at him in irritation.

Unable to hold back his anger at the professor, he took the bait. He stood, shrugging off Derrick's hand. "My parent's died today, sorry I don't want to celebrate their death!" Harry was just as vicious. He knew there would be punishment later for his outburst but he didn't care, Snape has had this coming. "You may not care that my mum and dad are dead, but I do. I don't care if Voldemort," there were a few cringes at the name, "died that night. I'd rather have my parents back."

Surprisingly, Snape had nothing to say to that. If anything, the look on his face reminded Harry of regret? It was an odd emotion to see on the greasy haired professor's face, one that was quickly replaced by his usual scowl.

A moment passed for tempers to cool before Dumbledore broke the silence, "As understandable as your situation is Mr. Potter, you still have yet to answer why you were in this particular corridor? The staircase to the Ravenclaw common room is the same as the one from the library."

"I -" Harry struggled with his answer. In the muggle world, hearing voices no one else could wasn't a good sign and he was sure it was the same in the wizarding world. But if he didn't give some possible excuse, he'd be a suspect. He had to tell the truth. "I was following a voice."

He heard Snape scoff in disbelief which he ignored. He didn't need to convince the Head of Slytherin; he needed to convince the Headmaster of his innocence, who seemed to be holding off on his dismissal of his claim for now. "A voice? What was it saying?"

Harry thought back to when he first heard the voice, to the terror that enveloped his body. It was like nothing he had ever felt before. A shiver of fear went through his body as those words replayed in his mind.

"It was…It was like nothing I've ever heard before. It didn't sound human; I felt like my entire body had been frozen." Concerned looks were shared at this. "It talked about killing…that it had been so long since it ate last…It sounded like it was hunting."

Snape leaned forward, gaze never leaving Harry's, sneer already in place, "So naturally you followed it. Figured you didn't need a professor to help you."

"Severus!" Dumbledore's sharp reprimand was enough to silence any snarky retort Snape had left. Harry looked at the Headmaster in disbelief. He believed him! "Please, continue."

"Um…I got to the second floor and it sounded like it was near me, in the corridor somewhere. It got excited…said it smelled blood and that was the last thing I heard." Harry looked Dumbledore in the eyes, willing him to believe he had nothing to do with this. "I walked the rest of the corridor because I thought someone had been injured – why else would there be blood? – and I found that message and Mrs. Norris."

Dumbledore's gaze didn't leave Harry's. He felt like the aged wizard was reading his mind. Finally, his gaze shifted to his deputy. "I believe precautions will need to be taken in light of recent events. I trust you to take care of them?" Receiving a nod, he turned to Snape, "Please check with Pomara on when her Mandrakes will be ready for the Restorative Draught. I feel we may be in need of it."

Harry's eyes widened as he turned to Derrick who had a similar expression gracing his face. The way he said it…it was like he was expecting this to happen again!

"After that, I want to meet with you in my office." Snape's expression didn't change except for a narrowing of his eyes but Harry figured that could be considered his normal expression. "Filius, if you could escort Mr. Potter and Mr. Hopkins to their common room?"

Nodding, the Ravenclaw Head motioned for his eagles to follow him. It was late and with the events of the night, it would not be wise to send them off alone.

"Oh, and 20 points from Ravenclaw for recklessness, Mr. Potter." Harry accepted the punishment. Considering the situation, it could've been worse. He could've done without Snape's smug smirk which was quickly wiped off at the Headmaster's next words, "And 25 points to Ravenclaw for defending a fellow student, Mr. Hopkins."

/

The walk back to the tower was quiet and neither student knew what to say. Unable to stand it anymore, Harry turned to Flitwick, "Professor, what exactly is the Chamber of Secrets?"

Sighing, the Charms professor had hoped to avoid this question but his eagles were an inquisitive bunch. "Legend has it being a secret chamber built by Salazar Slytherin himself. It is said to house a monster only he and his descendants could control. But in the millennia since, no one has been able to find it."

Derrick looked skeptical, "But sir, the Headmaster seems convinced that this will happen again. Has it happened before?"

Has it happened before? If it did, was the person ever caught? And what was the monster? Surely someone would've seen something if it had.

Already on edge from the night's events, Flitwick bristled under the questions. "No more questions for now. It's late and I want the two of you off to bed."

The castle was quiet and for the first time, Harry was uncomfortable being out in the corridors past curfew. He had wandered these halls countless times and never felt like he did now. He doubted even his Invisibility Cloak would take this feeling away.

A chiming rang out, the noise echoing in the empty halls.

Was it that late? It didn't feel like midnight. Harry wondered if the boys would still be up waiting for him or if they had given up and fell asleep.

They bid the professor goodnight as they entered the common room. It was empty, even the embers in the fireplace were cold.

The sudden weight of the night finally settled on him, and Harry felt like collapsing onto the sofa instead of making his way up to his room. He was prevented from doing just that when he felt a pair of eyes trailing his every movement. Turning, his eyes searched Derrick's, now wondering why he came to his defense when no one else had.

"I've seen you, you're not cruel Harry. Besides, anyone with half a brain would know you couldn't do it." Derrick let out a quiet laugh. The seventeen-year-old amused as he gazed at his young seeker. "No offense, but you're not smart enough to know any spell that could do that. Most seventh-years wouldn't even be able to perform a spell that powerful."

Harry didn't know whether to be offended or grateful but he did bring up a valid point. Dumbledore had said the spell was Dark Magic and powerful. Who would believe a second-year could cast that? Heart a little less heavy, Harry bid his captain goodnight and set off to his room for some well-needed rest.

Dark blue eyes followed his movement up the stairs thoughtfully before following. Tomorrow was a different day. They would see what it brought.

Only one of them slept peacefully that night.

·

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling