"Are you all right, Harry, dear?" Mrs. Weasley whispers to Harry leaning across Ginny and I to speak to him as the train rattled along through its dark tunnel. "You don't look very well. Are you feeling sick?" We all look at him. How could he lie to us like that? He saw it through the eyes of the snake. What does that mean? As we get back she asks again."Harry, dear, are you sure you're all right You look ever so pale... Are you sure you slept this morning? You go upstairs to bed right now, and you can have a couple of hours' sleep before dinner, all right?" He disappears as we get inside and I look to the others.

"Is there an owl here I can use?" I ask them all, "I need to send a letter."

"Yeah we have Erwoll," Molly says pointing to the cage in the corner. I walk to the desk I worked at during the summer and pull out a parchment and start to write out my letter. A quick something to Draco wishing him a Happy Christmas and explaining the bare minimum of my situation to him. I fold the parchment up and tie it to Erwoll's leg. 

"Hogwarts. Draco Malfoy," I say clearly to the owl before letting it out of its cage to flutter off. 

"May I speak to you Y/n?" Sirius asks. I follow him to another room where. The one we cleaned out with the tapestry of his family. I look along the wall finding Draco's name and tracing his picture. "How's your research going?"

"Goyle, Crabbe, and Nott. They have to be following their parents," I admit, "Goyle isn't very good at hiding his mark. Saw it in the changing room at a qudditch practice."

"Malfoy-"

"Nothing. I have nothing on him," I say quickly. To be honest I hadn't even really investigated him. I was letting personal feelings and responsibilities mix giving me a hard time.

"You have to-"

"You have to send someone else to," I say to him, "I can't. You might not understand the concept. But I love Draco and I'm not ruining that for speculation that won't be true."

"But I could be."

"But it won't be," I snap, "he's not like that-"

"I thought you could handle this," Sirius sneers, "but you can't."

"You're right. I can't handle spying on my boyfriend. I'm sorry. But I won't do it. I will do anything else. But not him," I say, "I'm sorry." I slide out of the room and rejoin the others. Ron was about to beat Ginny in a game of Wizard's chess. "I play winner," I say as I sit on the arm of Ginny's chair. Ron's piece smashes Ginny's king calling him the winner. 

"Whatever," Ginny sighs switching spots with me. The three of us go back and forth with who's playing all the way til dinner. The final call being Me with 6 wins, Ron with 7, and Ginny with 2.  "The games rigged," Ginny hisses.

"How could he rig it we can't use magic?" I ask her.

"He got Fred or George to do it!" She accuses. I snort looking to the twins sitting at the table writing out their sales from the Wizard Wheeses. 

"Like they'd ever do anything to help Ron," I say.

"Yeah that was a bit of a stretch," Ron snorts. Ginny flips the board angrily. 

"Dinner!" Molly yells, "Ron go fetch Harry please. If he isn't feeling well tell him I'll save something." As I sit down the rest file in. Everyone besides Harry. Who said he wasn't feeling well enough to eat. 

"And its like Umbridge is running a military regime," I explain to them.

"Watching everything we do like a hawk," Fred says.

"The womans mad," George says. I chuckle as we all pick at our food. 

"Everything is crazy," Ginny says, "and we can't do anything about it."

"Just sit still," Molly says, "I'm sure everything will be fine."

"We are," I say to them, "sitting still and being calm." I send the others a look to remind them to watch their words around the members of the order. Fearing the adults would shut us down.

"Exactly."

**** 

The next morning we were hurried down stairs as Christmas decorations were gathered around us. "I thought we could decorate," Molly says, "and Sirius said was okay."

"That sounds lovely," I say as look around. 

"Yeah mum," Ginny says.

"Well Ginny, Y/n you can help me with the tree. Ron can you help Fred and George hand decorations on the walls?" Molly instructs. We all spilt up doing our part. Ginny, Molly, and I softly place decorations on and around the trees. While the radio near by played soft Christmas tunes. 

"Ginny look at these!" I exclaim as I show her the glittery orbs. I show them to her chuckling as I shake the glitter onto her.

"Y/n!" She whines, "that will be on me for forever." I smirk as I place it on the tree. But she does the same shaking purple glitter onto my forehead. 

"Gross," I say, "but now we match!"

"You're special," She chuckles.

"A right special nutter," George teases as he hangs garlain along the walls.

"Are you sure thats not you?" I ask him jokingly.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night doll," Fred mocks. I roll my eyes. As finish up hours later it was in time for lunch. We walk into the kitchen to grab the sandwiches Molly made for us before leaving to see her husband. As we all settle down I look over the group and sigh.

"So Harry?" I ask them.

"I doubt he was possessed," Ginny says, "I would know."

"We need to talk to him," I tell them, "he needs to know we aren't afraid of him. Or hate him."

"We should wait for Hermione," Ron suggests, "she'll know what to say." I nod.

"Sounds about right," I say, "when should she be here?"

"Tonight," Ginny answers for him. I sigh looking down at my food.

"I'm going to take something up to him," I say placing down my sandwich. "He hasn't eaten since breakfast yesterday. And he barely ate anything." Ron nods as I place the sandwich Molly made for him in a brown paper bag I found with some crisps. I walk up stairs to the room where buckbeak was being stored. I knock onto the door. "Harry? You in there." No verbal response but I could hear a stir along with a shushing of Buckbeak.  "Well if you don't want to talk to me. Here." I open the door enough to see Harry huddled in the corner. He watches me as I place the bag in the room then shut the door.

******

At 6 Hermione arrived and she pulled all of us kids up the stairs into Ron's room. "Stay here." After a couple of minutes she rejoins us with Harry.  

"I came on the Knight Bus,"  Hermione says airily, pulling off her jacket, "Dumbledore told me what had happened first thing this morning, but I had to wait for term to end officially before setting off. Umbridge is already livid that you lot disappeared right under her nose, even though Dumbledore told her Mr. Weasley was in St. Mungo's, and he'd given you all permission to visit. So..." She sits down beside Ginny and I. "How're you feeling?" 

"Fine," Harry says stiffly.

"Oh, don't lie, Harry," she says impatiently. "Ron, Y/n, and Ginny say you've been hiding from everyone since you got back from St. Mungo's."

"They do, do they?" Harry says glaring at us.

"Sorry not sorry," I shrug.

"Well, you have!" Ginny says, "And you won't look at any of us!"

"It's you lot who won't look at me!" said Harry angrily.

"Maybe you're taking it in turns to look and keep missing each other," suggests Hermione, the corners of her mouth twitching.

"Very funny," Harry snaps.

"Oh, stop feeling all misunderstood," Hermione says sharply. 

"Yeah thats my job!" I exclaim jokingly earning a few chuckles.

"Look, the others have told me what you overheard last night on the Extendable Ears—" Hermione says.

"Yeah?" Harry growls, "All been talking about me, have you? Well, I'm getting used to it..."

"We're worried Harry," I say softly.

"We wanted to talk to you, Harry," Ginny says, "but as you've been hiding ever since we got back—"

"I didn't want anyone to talk to me," Harry says. 

"Well, that was a bit stupid of you," Ginny says angrily, "seeing as you don't know anyone but me who's been possessed by You-Know-Who, and I can tell you how it feels." He freezes then looks to her.

"I forgot," He says.

"Lucky you," Ginny says coolly.

"I'm sorry," Harry says,  "So... so do you think I'm being possessed, then?"

"Well, can you remember everything you've been doing?" Ginny asks. "Are there big blank periods where you don't know what you've been up to?"

"No," he says.

"Then You-Know-Who hasn't ever possessed you," Ginny says simply. "When he did it to me, I couldn't remember what I'd been doing for hours at a time. I'd find myself somewhere and not know how I got there."

"That dream I had about your dad and the snake, though—"

"Harry, you've had these dreams before," Hermione says.

 "Yeah didn't you have flashes of what Voldemort was up to last year," I say.

"This was different," Harry says shaking his head. "I was inside that snake. It was like I was the snake... What if Voldemort somehow transported me to London—?"

"One day," Hermione says sounding thoroughly exasperated, "you'll read Hogwarts, A History, and perhaps that will remind you that you can't Apparate or Disapparate inside Hogwarts. Even Voldemort couldn't just make you fly out of your dormitory, Harry."

"You didn't leave your bed, mate," Ron says, "I saw you thrashing around in your sleep about a minute before we could wake you up..."

"Meaning you never left your room," I say to him, "meaning you're linked to Voldemort in another way." Harry starts to pace around the room.

"Do you know how?" Harry asks me.

"Not a clue," I say, "I've been researching. But- a lot of information isn't public about Voldemort. But if I find anything. I will tell you I promise. In the mean time we have an issue."

"What?" He asks.

"This link," I say, "if its allowing you to see what Voldemorts doing then we can only assume-"

"He can see what I'm doing,"  Harry says.

"Exactly." 

****

 On Christmas morning everything seemed nice again. I woke up to a thick stack of gifts at the foot of my bed. Hermione sitting by hers as she looks at me. "Shall we open them?" She asks.

"Of course," I smirk. We open them slowly. Her and I knowing each other perfectly enough for us to give each other our favorite book. Mine being a muggle book she showed me in second year and her's obviously being Hogwarts A History. Harry gave me set of the Irish National Qudditch team figurines. Ron a box of chocolate frogs. Ginny gave me a Qudditch play book. Fred and George splitting and Splurging for a silver necklace with a beaters bat charm, with a note saying 'To Our Favourite Business Partner.' Another Weasley family sweater in purple. Another nice book on Magical Creatures from Neville, and a similar one from Lupin. Hagrid sent a little model of a thestral for me seeing as how I interacted with them. And Tonks sent a magical creature model like Hagrid but this one being a Hippograff. And even a little set of new quills from Sirius.

"Thank you," Hermione says hugging me. I had given out as many as I got. Ron's being a new broom care kit. Harry's being text books on Defensive Spells and Charms that I picked up in america.  Fred and George each got new bats for qudditch and nice new cauldrons for their shop. Molly and Arthur both getting thank you cards, Molly getting a nice perfume, and Arthur some muggle items he had talked about. Neville getting a seedling for Chinese Chomping Cabbage. Lupin and Sirius both getting boxes of chocolates and matching rings with a silver Phoenix on them. Ginny getting a golden snitch necklace. Tonks getting a nice leather bound sketch book. And finally Hagrid a cologne that didn't reek.  

"I love getting books," I say as I hug my magical creatures books.

"What did you get from Draco?" Hermione asks. 

"We actually exchanged gifts before I left Hogwarts," I tell her, "but we both gave each other photo albums of us over the years."

"Thats.. actually really sweet," She says.

"I know," I say, "he's the best."

"I wouldn't go that far... But he is good to you," She says, "I'm going to give Kreacher my gift. Wanna join?"

"Sure," I say, "but its not clothes right?"

"No clothes," She says. She picks it up and we walk downstairs meeting Ron and Harry. 

"Thanks for the book, Harry!" she says happily. "I've been wanting that New Theory of Numerology for ages! And that perfume is really unusual, Ron."

"No problem," said Ron, "thanks Y/n for the broom kit."

"Thank you two boys for everything," I say.

" "Who's that for anyway?" Ron asks, nodding at the neatly wrapped present Hermione was was carrying.

"Kreacher," Hermione says brightly.

"It had better not be clothes!" Ron says warningly. "You know what Sirius said, Kreacher knows too much, we can't set him free!"

"It isn't clothes," Hermione says, "although if I had my way I'd certainly give him something to wear other than that filthy old rag-"

"I already asked her about it," I tell Ron, "I wouldn't let her get down the stairs if it was clothes."

"No, it's a patchwork quilt, I thought it would brighten up his bedroom," she says.

"What bedroom?" Harry says dropping his voice to a whisper as we were passing the portrait of Sirius's mother.

"Well, Sirius says it's not so much a bedroom, more a kind of—den," Hermione says "Apparently he sleeps under the boiler in that cupboard off the kitchen." Mrs. Weasley was the only person in the basement when we arrived there. She was at the stove and sounded as though she had a bad head cold when she wished us Merry Christmas, and we all averted their eyes.

"So, this is Kreacher's bedroom?" Ron says strolling over to a dingy door in the corner opposite the pantry which Harry had never seen open. 

"Yes," Hermione says now sounding a little nervous. "Er... I think we'd better knock..." Ron raps against the door. But no answer.

"He must be sneaking around upstairs," he says and without further ado pulled open the door. "Urgh." It was mostly taken up with a old fashion boiler. Underneath had old smelly rags and blankets. In the far corner were the stolen items that Kreacher took while we were tossing things out. One of the items being a framed picture of Bellatrix Lestrange. 

"Disgusting," I say looking at it all. Nudging the picture over so I didn't have to see her stupid face.

"I think I'll just leave his present here," Hermione says laying the package neatly in the middle of the depression in the rags and blankets and closing the door quietly. "He'll find it later, that'll be fine..."

"Come to think of it," Sirius says, emerging from the pantry carrying a large turkey as they closed the cupboard door, "has anyone actually seen Kreacher lately?"

"I haven't seen him since the night we came back here," Harry says, "You were ordering him out of the kitchen."

"Yeah..." Sirius says frowning. "You know, I think that's the last time I saw him, too... He must be hiding upstairs somewhere..."

"He couldn't have left, could he?" Harry asks,  "I mean, when you said 'out,' maybe he thought you meant, get out of the house?"

"No, no, house-elves can't leave unless they're given clothes, they're tied to their family's house," Sirius says.

"They can leave the house if they really want to," Harry contradicts him. "Dobby did, he left the Malfoys' to give me warnings two years ago. He had to punish himself afterward, but he still managed it."

 "I'll look for him later, I expect I'll find him upstairs crying his eyes out over my mother's old bloomers or something... Of course, he might have crawled into the airing cupboard and died... But I mustn't get my hopes up..." Sirius says causing the boys to laugh. I roll my eyes.

"Even if he is dead. That just means you have to do everything for yourself," I say, "are you prepared for that?"

"Not in the slightest," Sirius smirks.

"Thats what I thought," I chuckle. Soon after Christmas lunch we were off to the hospital once again. Mundungas even 'borrowing' a car for the event. It was bewitched making it so all 11 of use could get in comfortably. Once inside the ward infront of Mr. Weasley's bed we all exchange greeting.

"Everything all right, Arthur?" asks Mrs. Weasley, after we had all greeted Mr. Weasley and handed over their presents.

"Fine, fine," Mr. Weasley says a little too heartily. "You—er—haven't seen Healer Smethwyck, have you?"

"No," Mrs. Weasley asks suspiciously, "why?"

"Nothing, nothing," Mr. Weasley asks airily, starting to unwrap his pile of gifts. "Well, everyone had a good day? What did you all get for Christmas? Oh, Harry—this is absolutely wonderful—" He shakes Harry's hand with a quick hiss of pain.

""Arthur," she says with a snap in her voice like a mousetrap, "you've had your bandages changed. Why have you had your bandages changed a day early, Arthur? They told me they wouldn't need doing until tomorrow."

"What?" Mr. Weasley asks looking rather frightened and pulling the bed covers higher up his chest. "No, no—it's nothing—it's—I- Well—now don't get upset, Molly, but Augustus Pye had an idea... He's the Trainee Healer, you know, lovely young chap and very interested in... um... complementary medicine... I mean, some of these old Muggle remedies... well, they're called stitches, Molly, and they work very well on—on Muggle wounds—"

"Oh dear Merlin," I say face palming.

"I'm going to go get Tea," Bill says, "Fred, George care to join?" The twins nod before rushing off.

"Do you mean to tell me," Mrs. Weasley says her voice growing louder with every word and apparently unaware that her fellow visitors were scurrying for cover, "that you have been messing about with Muggle remedies?"

"Not messing about, Molly, dear," Mr. Weasley says imploringly. "It was just—just something Pye and I thought we'd try—only, most unfortunately—well, with these particular kinds of wounds—it doesn't seem to work as well as we'd hoped—"

"Meaning?"

"Well... well, I don't know whether you know what—what stitches are?"

"It sounds as though you've been trying to sew your skin back together," Mrs. Weasley says with a snort of mirthless laughter, "but even you, Arthur, wouldn't be that stupid—"

"I fancy a cup of tea too," Harry says jumping to his feet.

"Me too," I say rushing to the door.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, THAT'S THE GENERAL IDEA?" Molly shrieks.

"Typical Dad," Ginny asks, shaking her head as they set off up the corridor. "Stitches... I ask you..."

"Well, you know, they do work well on non-magical wounds," Hermione says,  "I suppose something in that snake's venom dissolves them or something... I wonder where the tearoom is?"

"Fifth floor," I say to them recalling the sign. We walk through the corridor wizards were coming left and right to diagnose us with things. A couple refering me to spell damage for my hair. While one harassing Ron calling out that he clearly had a bad case of spattergroit.

"And what's that supposed to be?" he asks angrily, as the Healer pursued him through six more portraits, shoving the occupants out of the way.

"'Tis a most grievous affliction of the skin, young master, that will leave you pockmarked and more gruesome even than you are now—"

"Watch who you're calling gruesome!" Ron asks his ears turning red.

"The only remedy is to take the liver of a toad, bind it tight about your throat, stand naked by the full moon in a barrel of eels' eyes—"

"I have not got spattergroit!"

"But the unsightly blemishes upon your visage, young master—"

"They're freckles!"  Ron says furiously. "Now get back in your own picture and leave me alone!"

He rounded on the others, who were all keeping determinedly straight faces.

"What floor's this?"

"I think it's the fifth," Hermione says.

"Nah, it's the fourth," Harry says. As we get met with Lockhart the ward becomes clear to me. Mental damage from spells. I don't know the official name. But thats what it had to be.

"Lockhart?' I ask.

"Blimey!" Ron says.

"Oh my goodness," Hermione says suddenly, sounding breathless. "Professor Lockhart!"

"Well, hello there!" he says. "I expect you'd like my autograph, would you?"

"Hasn't changed much, has he?" Harry mutters.

"Er—how are you, Professor?" Ron says sounding slightly guilty. It had been Ron's malfunctioning wand that had damaged Professor Lockhart's memory so badly that he had landed here in the first place, though, as Lockhart had been attempting to permanently wipe memories from Harry, Ron, and I at the time, mine and Harry's sympathies were limited.

"I'm very well indeed, thank you!" Lockhart says exuberantly, pulling a rather battered peacock-feather quill from his pocket. "Now, how many autographs would you like? I can do joined-up writing now, you know!"

"Er—we don't want any at the moment, thanks," Ron says, "Professor, should you be wandering around the corridors? Shouldn't you be in a ward?"

"Haven't we met?" Lockhart asks.

"Lockhart do you need to get back to your ward?" I ask slowing down my words.

"Er... yeah, we have me," Harry says, "You used to teach us at Hogwarts, remember?"

"Teach?" repeats Lockhart, looking faintly unsettled. "Me? Did I? Taught you everything you know, I expect, did I? Well, how about those autographs, then? Shall we say a round dozen, you can give them to all your little friends then and nobody will be left out!"

"Gilderoy, you naughty boy, where have you wandered off to?" A healer says catching up to him. "Oh Gilderoy, you've got visitors! How lovely, and on Christmas Day too! Do you know, he never gets visitors, poor lamb, and I can't think why, he's such a sweetie, aren't you?"

"We're doing autographs!" Gilderoy tells the Healer with another glittering smile. "They want loads of them, won't take no for an answer! I just hope we've got enough photographs!"

"Listen to him,"The healer says taking Lockhart's arm and beaming fondly at him as though he were a precocious two-year-old. "He was rather well known a few years ago; we very much hope that this liking for giving autographs is a sign that his memory might be coming back a little bit. Will you step this way? He's in a closed ward, you know, he must have slipped out while I was bringing in the Christmas presents, the door's usually kept locked... not that he's dangerous! But," she lowered her voice to a whisper, "bit of a danger to himself, bless him... Doesn't know who he is, you see, wanders off and can't remember how to get back... It is nice of you to have come to see him—"

"Er,"  Ron says gesturing uselessly at the floor above, "actually, we were just—er—"

"I-i have no words," I say to them as the healer leads us along with them, "I mean I knew he was messed up but wow." As we get into the word she helps Lockhart into bed.

"This is our long-term resident ward," she informs us "For permanent spell damage, you know. Of course, with intensive remedial potions and charms and a bit of luck, we can produce some improvement... Gilderoy does seem to be getting back some sense of himself, and we've seen a real improvement in Mr. Bode, he seems to be regaining the power of speech very well, though he isn't speaking any language we recognize yet... Well, I must finish giving out the Christmas presents, I'll leave you all to chat..." I look around the ward and sigh. Leaning up to Ginny's ear.

"This is gonna sound rude but if anything happens to me where I end up here just kill me," I whisper. She opens her mouth wide at the comment.

"You can't say that," She says.

"Just did," I shrug as I look around. The people around us were actual witches and wizards who got screwed over by magic. Leading them so damaged they needed to be in permanent care. It was quite sad actually. 

"And—oh, Mrs. Longbottom, are you leaving already?" I hear. I turn to see Neville and his grandmother. 

"It's us, Neville!" Ron says brightly, getting to his feet. "Have you seen? Lockhart's here! Who've you been visiting?" 

"Friends of yours, Neville, dear?" Neville's says grandmother graciously, bearing down upon us all. Neville looked like he wanted to run away. "Ah, yes," He grandmother says to Harry. "Yes, yes, I know who you are, of course. Neville speaks most highly of you."

"Er—thanks," Harry says shaking her hand.

"And I know you are Y/n Cultven," Neville's grandmother says, "he just absolutely adores the gifts and letters you send him." I shake her hand and look to Neville who was staring at his feet.

"Its nice to meet you Mrs. Longbottom," I say to her.

"And you two are clearly Weasleys," Mrs. Longbottom continues on. proffering her hand regally to Ron and Ginny in turn. "Yes, I know your parents—not well, of course—but fine people, fine people... and you must be Hermione Granger? Yes, Neville's told me all about you. Helped him out of a few sticky spots, haven't you? He's a good boy, but he hasn't got his father's talent, I'm afraid to say..." And she jerks her head in the direction of the two beds at the end of the ward, so that the stuffed vulture on her hat trembled alarmingly.

"What?" Ron asks looking amazed. I jab my elbow into his ribs to get him to shut up, "Is that your dad down the end, Neville?"

"What's this?" Mrs. Longbottom asks sharply. "Haven't you told your friends about your parents, Neville?" Neville takes a deep breath, looks up at the ceiling, and shook his head. I run through every scenario I can think of to help him out in my mind. Not a one actually seeming to work. "Well, it's nothing to be ashamed of! You should be proud, Neville, proud! They didn't give their health and their sanity so their only son would be ashamed of them, you know!"

"I'm not ashamed," Neville says.

"Well, you've got a funny way of showing it!" Mrs. Longbottom says, "My son and his wife, were tortured into insanity by You-Know-Who's followers." "They were Aurors, you know, and very well respected within the Wizarding community, Highly gifted, the pair of them. I—yes, Alice dear, what is it?" Neville's mother had come to us in her nightdress. Looking thin and frail. She make slow timid motions towards Neville holding something in her hands. "Again?" asks Mrs. Longbottom, sounding slightly weary. "Very well, Alice dear, very well—Neville, take it, whatever it is..." He had already had in his hand what she wanted to give him. A piece of gum wrapping paper. "Very nice, dear." 

"Thanks Mum," Neville says slightly as his mother totters back to her bed. He look at us with an expression as if daring us to laugh. I had never found anything less funny than it. 

"Well, we'd better get back," sighs Mrs. Longbottom, drawing on long green gloves. "Very nice to have met you all. Neville, put that wrapper in the bin, she must have given you enough of them to paper your bedroom by now..." She turns and I catch Neville's arm.  He looks at me with pain filled eyes. I seieze him in a soft tight hug. 

"Happy Christmas," I say as he pulls away. As he walks away I see him slip the paper in his pocket.

"I never knew," Hermione says looking tearfully. 

"Nor did I,"Ron says rather hoarsely.

"Nor me," whispers Ginny.

"I can't believe-" I choke out. I wipe my tearful eyes.

"I did," he says glumly. "Dumbledore told me but I promised I wouldn't mention it... that's what Bellatrix Lestrange got sent to Azkaban for, using the Cruciatus Curse on Neville's parents until they lost their minds."

"Bellatrix Lestrange did that?" whispers Hermione, horrified. "That woman Kreacher's got a photo of in his den?"

"Look, I didn't learn joined-up writing for nothing, you know!" Lockharts angry voice cuts in.