Chapter 15
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HARRY MAY BE BANNED FROM QUIDDITCH, BUT THERE WAS NOTHING STOPPING HIM FROM OBSERVING THE PRACTICES SOMETIMES. Adhara was only a bit shocked when she realised she had to inform him of that. Which prompted Ron to drag the boy to the field to give him some pointers.

"Is Montagne looking for a new seeker?" asked Millie over lunch.

They took up a spot at the very front of the Slytherin table, away from the teachers. Adhara was in no mood to have Umbridge shoot daggers behind her back the whole meal. Apparently, the investigation was already underway, though Adhara doubted anything would come out of it. The woman most probably already vanished the quills and any other proof.

"Yes. Our reserve seeker isn't very good, but no one else is willing to try out. There's this fourth year called Harper that may try out, but we aren't too sure. The next match isn't until February, though, so we've got time."

"Isn't Malfoy upset about the whole thing, though?"

The three girls looked above the sea of heads to where Malfoy sat. The boy was silent, mournfully staring at his meal.

Adhara shrugged. "It's not like he can complain to his father."

"Ouch. Harsh, Adhi."

Adhara didn't really care. "You didn't hear what he was saying about Harry and Ron's parents. He deserves the punishment."

"You don't think his mother's going to do anything?" interjected Hermione.

"After seeing the state of his nose?" answered Millie. "The woman practically screamed when she came to the infirmary. There is no way she's letting him play ever again."

Hermione turned around towards the entrance of the Great Hall. "The twins are thoroughly upset."

Adhara and Millie followed their friend's gaze, where Fred and George were picking on a group of Slytherin first years. Adhara narrowed her eyes.

Hermione turned back to face them. "No amount of house points will get them to behave. They just don't care!"

Adhara's gaze flicked back to her. "McGonagall?"

Hermione squirmed, looking away.

"You don't want to?"

"I don't want to look like I failed in my first year at being prefect!"

"You won't, though."

Millie hummed. "How about their mother? They're terrified of her."

"I already threatened that I would, but I haven't actually...you want me to tattle to their mother?"

Adhara shrugged. "Use whatever methods' in your disposition."

"Besides, is it truly snitching if they're in the wrong?"

Hermione looked thoughtful, nails between her teeth, but she still kept hesitating.

"I don't know..."

"Just write to the woman, start with pleasantries," instructed Millie. "Then say something like 'Oh, Mrs Weasley, I know I'm a prefect and it's my job and everything but they're friends so I'm not sure what to do!'"

Hermione blinked. "That's...quite sneaky."

Millie shrugged.

"You're taking advice from Slytherin," reminded Adhara. "What else did you expect?"

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If you told first year Harry Potter that in five years time, he was going to defend Malfoy from bullies, he would have straight up laughed at your face. Fully, loud crackles.

And yet, here they were.

He was on his way to meet his friends at the Shrieking Shack — they did find a way to get past the Willow without breaking their ribs — when he found three older students looming over his blond classmate.

Malfoy wasn't quiet, though, it wasn't like him to be. He was talking back — perhaps more like sneering back — looking like the ponce that he was. But, the others had him backed up against the corner of the corridor, and despite the boy's courageous front, he was outnumbered.

"What are you three doing?" Harry found himself asking despite himself.

The sixth-years turned around, looking relieved when they noticed it was Harry.

"Potter. Just the man we were talking about!" said one of the taller boys, approaching him. He raised a hand, perhaps to shake Harry's hand or something but he didn't pay attention to him.

He looked at Malfoy, who was looking at him with his eyes narrowed.

Harry eyed the tall boy. "Were you?"

The boy — blue tie — dropped his hand, running his tongue over his teeth. "Wholf, show him the paper."

The girl — yellow tie — unfolded a copy of the Prophet from her pocket, showing Harry the front page.

Lucius Malfoy's trials begin once again! it read.

Harry didn't show any reaction. He didn't even move, merely averting his gaze where Malfoy and the other two were again.

The last one — green tie — they really formed a colourful gang there, point for unity — shoved a finger in Malfoy's chest.

"Rich boy's family here probably pulled some strings. They're gonna pay their way out of murder charges."

Malfoy shooed the boy's finger away with his book, looking at him disgusted. He wiped his chest. "We just might. If you ask nicely, my mother might help you pay for a new uniform. Those trousers look awfully short, no?"

The boy didn't hesitate, between one breath and another, Malfoy was on the ground, a hand holding his jaw.

It took Harry all his effort not to move an inch.

"How could you be so shameless," asked the girl, sounding choked. "Your father murdered Cedr—" Her voice gave out. She advanced towards Malfoy, leg raised to kick him when Harry—

"Stop! Just. Stop."

All three turned towards him.

The first boy, the tall one, snorted in disbelief. "Potter. Malfoy, his father killed—"

"Yes, his father. Not him. Why pick on him, then?"

The tall boy was looking at Harry with a mirthless smile on his face, eyes full of scorn.

The other spoke up. "You're defending him?"

"More like I'm standing up against you."

The tall Ravenclaw full in laughed this time, a dry, humourless laugh that sounded like a discordant ringing. "Your sister writes one article standing up against a Ministry employee, and now you all think you're better than everyone."

Harry grinded his teeth together, barely suppressing his anger. He didn't like the look on the Ravenclaw's face. All Harry wanted to do was to smack it off him.

But he restrained himself.

"How can I not when you act so beneath me?"

The boy ran his tongue over his teeth again, clearly irritated. Harry was surprised he hadn't punched him.

"Let's go, lads. Let the mighty Harry Potter take care of this."

Harry waited in his spot until the three left to help Malfoy off the ground. The blond boy brushed him off, standing up by himself.

"Piss off, Potter!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "People usually say thank you in these situations."

"I didn't need your help," stated Malfoy, brushing off nonexistent dirt from his trousers.

"Clearly." Harry watched the boy closely. He looked thinner than normal. Either that, or he brought new clothes that fitted him too big. Though, knowing how proper Malfoy's tend to be, that didn't look to be the case. And there were deep bags underneath his eyes.

"You're not acting like yourself."

"Excuse me?"

"Any other time," continued Harry, "you would have hexed them. Yet, you didn't even bother taking your wand out."

"What's it to you?"

"I'm asking why did you defend yourself?"

"Again," said Malfoy through gritted teeth, "what's it to you?"

"I just want to help."

"I don't need your help. Especially not against some low-life mud—"

That confused Harry. "You've been avoiding that word for a while now."

"What?"

"That word. You haven't used it in a very long time."

"You really don't know how to piss off, don't you?" Malfoy started to walk away, rolling his eyes. "Learn to mind your own business, Potter."

Harry scrunched his brows together. He followed him. "What is up with you? Why are you so...so weird?"

Malfoy whirled around. "Excuse me?"

"You're so bloody confusing! One minute you're apologising to Hermione, painting Millie's nails, and the next, you're insulting Ron's mum? What is up with you?"

"That was before you landed my father in Azkaban, wasn't it?!"

"Me? I didn't land you father anywhere! If you haven't noticed, I've been trying to tell people that it was Volde—"

"Don't say his name!" Malfoy looked restless. It was the first time Harry noticed that the boy's eyes were completely red. He didn't look like he was sleeping at all. "Take my advice, Potter, and learn to watch your own back instead of others. You're the one who needs it the most!"

Malfoy walked away, leaving Harry speechless.

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And if that entire encounter with Malfoy wasn't enough, later that same week, McGonagall decided to call in everyone who had had a detention with Umbridge. Apparently, the investigation was well underway, and until further notice, Snape was going to take up Defense classes, much to the man's pleasure.

Harry sat in front of McGonagall's desk, a biscuit in hand and a determined look in his eyes. He wasn't going to be worn out.

Hermione renewed the glamour on the back of his hand. He was ready for his professor to chew him out. Though, so far, all the woman has done is offer him tea and biscuits. He has been here almost fifteen minutes and McGonagall hasn't asked Harry a single question about Umbridge.

The worst part of his mind tried to convince him it was because she didn't trust the Quibbler to begin with, only calling students into her office for a front. Though, the logical part of him deduced it was probably because of other reasons.

Another ten minutes of silence. Harry watched McGonagall quietly sipping on her tea, though she didn't reach for the biscuit tin once.

Finally, when Harry's patience was starting to run thin, she spoke up.

"I wanted to start with an apology, Potter."

Harry blinked, caught off guard.

"You tried to come to me, and I dismissed you. I would understand if you do not trust me henceforth, but I do need you to know that I am sorry."

"Pro — professor," stuttered out Harry. "There's nothing — I mean — Umbridge didn't do anything to me."

McGonagall hummed. She peered at Harry's hand, who unwittingly pulled it to his chest. Realising what he had just done, Harry inwardly cursed himself.

"You aren't the first student to hide scars behind a glamour, Potter."

Harry bit his lip. "You can see it?"

The woman smiled gently. "As bright as Miss Granger might be, she would need a few more years of practice to get past these eyes."

Annnnd fuck. If McGonagall saw through the glamour, then surely...

"Rest assured, I cannot see what you are hiding. Only that you are hiding something. And it doesn't take a brilliant mind to put together what you are hiding."

Harry looked down at his lap. He didn't want to make eye contact.

"I understand if you don't want to talk to me. But Potter — Harry. I advise you to have someone at your side, an adult. Someone who you can trust, someone who you can talk to."

And — well — Harry did have someone, didn't he? Because why else would Sirius' name cross his mind at the mention of that?

Harry knew he could trust him. But did he really need to admit to anyone about the bloodquills? Why did it even matter?

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On his way out of the office, Harry bumped into someone. He turned to apologise, only to meet face to face with that tall bloke who tried to torment Malfoy. The Ravenclaw.

Harry noticed how the boy was trying to pull down his sleeve over his hand.

"Potter, what're you doing here?"

Harry heard the question, and he wanted to deny everything. But his gaze was locked on the boy's hand, and the words got stuck in his throat.

He looked up at the sixth-year, unable to say anything. Harry simply looked back at McGonagall's door, and the boy followed his gaze, and understanding somehow dawned on him.

"Oh..." He walked around Harry, intending to continue without saying a word to Harry.

But the Gryffindor boy had other ideas in mind. "Wait!"

The sixth-year stopped in his tracks. He turned to look at Harry.

"What's your name?"

The boy looked confused. "Why does it matter?"

"It matters. It just does."

The Ravenclaw looked hesitant. But he took a glimpse at Harry's hand, then looked straight at him. "Carmichael. Eddie Carmichael."

Harry smiled. "I'm Harry Potter."

Eddie chortled, loud and mirthful. "Everyone bloody knows who you are."

Harry shrugged.

"See you around, Potter."

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That evening, Harry and Adhara found themselves at the owlery again.

He asked Adhara who the students who gave a statement to the Quibbler were. Adhara answered back that she couldn't say, because she made a promise.

"Was it a Ravenclaw?"

"Some. There were also Hufflepuffs, Gryffindors and Slytherins."

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Unfortunately for them all, by the time Hagrid's class on thestrals rolled around, Umbridge's investigation came to an end. And without further evidence, no bloodquills to be found, and with strong support from the Minister himself, the charges against the woman were dropped. Apparently, the countless number of students who revealed their scars to McGonagall meant nothing.

The Board of Governors weren't happy and some parents were still pushing for a trial. In the meantime, Umbridge was deemed innocent until proven guilty, so she was allowed to resume her position as High Inquisitor, once more.

After mocking Hagrid for the entire class — and making Parkinson and her friends laugh, though Malfoy cowered behind her when Harry sent a nasty glare in his direction, perhaps remembering their encounter from the other day — Umbridge returned to the castle, leaving them all feeling helpless.

"This is such bullshit," commented Ron out loud. "How is she still allowed to be here?"

"She has the Minister backing her up," reminded Hermione. "It'll take a lot to get her kicked out."

"Maybe someone should blackmail her to leave," mumbled the redhead.

"And you would know how to? Got something to shake, Weasley?" teased Millie.

Ron stuck his tongue out to her.

Harry was watching the thestrals. Adhara joined him, arms crossed.

"What do they look like?" she asked.

Their friends were still bickering behind them.

"You know what dinosaurs are?"

"Obviously."

"Nothing like them."

Adhara gave him a blank look.

"Aww, Weasley," said a voice behind them, in a mocking tone. "Afraid for your friend? You don't want him to get any more scars?"

Harry and Adhara looked around to see Parkinson taunting them, still. Strangely, Harry smiled, big and proud, confusing Adhara.

"You know," started Harry, because apparently he was in the mood to fight today, "with Adhara stealing all the attention with the Quibbler lately, it's made me jealous. I'm thinking about writing, too."

Everyone turned to him. Parkinson looked at him, equally confused. Adhara raised a brow at him.

"What are you all looking at? It's true! I can start a gossip column, called 'Pureblood Speaks'," he announced, motioning with his hands.

"What are you getting at, Potter?" demanded the pug-faced girl.

Harry smirked, playful. "Want a feature?"

"Excuse me?"

"You know, to talk about your fake marriage contract."

Parkinson's face turned a deep shade of red, from both embarrassment and anger.

"Harry!" chastised Hermione, but Millie was openly laughing out loud. Ron only looked shocked.

Adhara, on the other hand, looked impressed.

Malfoy, apparently growing back his spine, advanced towards them. "Five points from Gryffindor, for bullying."

"Five points from Slytherin," threw back Ron, "for provoking first."

Parkinson pushed Malfoy out of the way, looking straight at Harry worth her fists clenched. "Just you wait, Potter! Your friends may have your back now, but what will you do once they start dropping dead, one by one."

The smile on Harry's face vanished. Ron was in front of him in an instant.

Even Malfoy tried to pull Parkinson back, but to avail.

"Maybe you can cosy around with thestrals, they'll be the only things you have left, soon."

"Pansy!"

The implications of Parkinson's words made their classmates go quiet. She had practically admitted Harry claims to be true right there and then.

But the taunting look on Parkinson's face fell right as she noticed the serious expression that Malfoy wore.

"What?"

Malfoy pulled her away, leaving Harry and his friends.

Ron tried to reassure him. "Don't listen to her, Harry. She's only talking rubbish."

Harry wasn't convinced. "Was she, though? Voldemort is back. It's no laughing matter." He looked back at the thestrals, the very sight of which proved Parkinson's words to be true.

He could only see them because he watched Cedric die. And Cedric wouldn't have died if it wasn't for Voldemort, if he hadn't been with Harry.

Hermione smacked him over the head, breaking him out of his thoughts.

"Stop thinking nonsense!"

Harry rubbed the back of his head, frowning. "But she isn't wrong! Cedric died because—"

This time, it was Adhara who smacked him.

"Stop that!"

"Stop with your nonsense, then," she challenged. "Cedric's death is on Voldemort. Stop blaming yourself."

"If it wasn't for me, then—"

"If it wasn't for Voldemort, Cedric knowing you wouldn't have mattered. You like playing the hero so much, you blame yourself for everything."

"I don't like playing hero—"

"Yes, you do," they all chimed in.

At the sound of their voice, one of the thestrals approached them too closely, but Millie gently pushed it away. The action reminded Harry that she could see the animals, too.

That he wasn't the only one.

"You get so lost in that head of yours, you need to get out of it."

"You both need to remember that you've got people in your corner. You need to learn to lean on them," admonished Hermione.

Adhara blinked, brows furrowing as she faced Hermione. "What do you mean, both? Why're you dragging me into this?"

"I don't know, Adhi," chimed Millie, "how do you know Mione was talking about you?"

Adhara glared at her.

Apparently, Ron didn't want to be left out. "Harry's not the only one with a hero complex."

At that, Adhara looked flat out insulted, making Harry laugh.

"I do not have a hero complex!"

"Of course you do, Miss 'there's-someone-I-want-to-protect'!"

Adhara glared at Harry. One thing about his sister was that she didn't pull her punches. "Alright, Mr 'it's-the-right-thing-to-do', what's got your thoughts so muddled about this, then?" She lifted Harry's hands, showing him his own scars.

The smile on his face fell once more. Even the others looked appalled that Adhara brought it up so casually. But Adhara wouldn't do something like this unless she felt it was necessary.

"It isn't the same."

"Isn't it, though?"

And — and — wasn't it, though?

Adhara fought for her people. Harry fought for everyone else. It was why he wanted to fight Voldemort. Because it was the right thing to do, because Harry didn't want innocent people to die. Adhara didn't care so much about that. She didn't want to fight the war. She only joined the DA because Harry was going to, and she wasn't about to leave him alone.

It was why she wrote the article, too. She didn't speak up against Umbridge until Harry was in direct danger. She did it for Harry, not for others.

So, wasn't it Harry's turn to stay true to the pattern? To speak up about his scars so that others could have a chance? Harry thought of Eddie, he thought of the other nine students who gave their statements to Adhara, who were brave enough to speak up about their scars, so that an abuser could be taken down.

Because isn't that what Harry believed in? To fight for what was right?

"Have someone in your corner," had said McGonagall. "Lean on others," reminded Hermione.

And Harry thought of one person back then, and he thought of him again today.

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A/N If anyone's read "Uncontrollable" (my Ginny Weasley fic), then the name Eddie Carmichael might sound familiar hehe.