"Here, master," Dobby said happily, swiftly placing the eating utensils Professor Sprout had given him for Harry to use on the table.

"Thanks, Dobby," Harry said, before sitting. Neville took the spot beside him a moment later.

It had been two days since the holiday break had ended, and Harry was understandably still adjusting to his current condition. His peers, for the most part, had been considerate and had not badgered him with annoying questions or extensive concern, but their silence could be equally as irksome. It was confusing. On the one hand, Harry was glad they were giving him space, but another part of him wished they would act differently. Normal, perhaps? Granted, he supposed if he were in their shoes, he would be curious, unnerved, and confused about him too.

On a happier note, Neville and Draco remained by his side and continued treating him the same, well, mostly. Not having the use of one's hands does make one have to rely on others to a certain extent, even when one has magic.

Harry looked down at his plate as the food appeared and Dobby immediately set to work, summoning spoonfuls of food onto his plate and servings of a bit of everything.

"Thanks, Dobby," he said automatically, before focusing his attention to his fork and knife.

Dumbledore had charmed them specifically to respond to his magic and will. Harry was especially grateful. The thought of being fed by someone at every meal time had not been appealing at all.

Concentrating on his intent, his fork and knife rose up, as if being held by two invisible hands, and began cutting his food. It had taken him a good ten minutes to get the hang of it initially, but it was actually a rather natural thing and much easier than most would think. All one really had to do was imagine themselves using the eating utensils and the rest just came automatically.

Magic was so awesome.

"Ready for Transfigurations?" Neville asked.

"Yeah. Do you think we'll be taking more notes today?" he asked.

"Not sure," Neville answered.

"The Ravenclaws mentioned working with rocks and books," Susan put in.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "That sounds . . . interesting. Though, I suppose if you wanted to hide a book, turning it into a rock would give it a nice disguise, right?"

Susan and a few others nodded as they finished breakfast.

O o O o O

Minerva watched as the first year Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors took their seats. Harry entered with Dobby and Neville before taking a seat near the back.

She gave a quiet sigh.

His resilience was amazing. She could only imagine how frustrating it was to be unable to use one's hands, but the boy was taking it in stride, at least so far. Granted, having a devoted friend by his side who knew when to step in to help and when not to was quite a blessing.

She shook her head. Neville was truly Alice and Frank's son. Augusta was blind.

Stepping out from around her desk, she began class, discussing the mechanics of what they would be doing that day.

She glanced at Harry and Dobby. Dobby had already set out the self-writing quill and parchment, her words no doubt already being paraphrased and recorded for Harry's notes.

House elves very well may be the greatest asset to wizards, besides magic in general, of course. Even now, a dozen house elves were happily screening the incoming mail and ensuring nothing harmful would get through the wards to hurt anyone again. Albus had spoken to the house elves of Hogwarts and asked if any would be willing to do the dangerous job. In the end, he had to arrange a schedule for all of them to take turns for the task, as they all wanted to help.

Well, at least they no longer needed to worry about the mail being used to hurt their students.

"Now, I would like you all to try transfiguring the books in front of you into rocks. Remember, visualization is key," she said, before walking around the room as they began their attempts.

Harry, of course, wouldn't be able to participate in this part of the lesson. For the moment, he would only be able to work on the pronunciation of the spell. Thankfully, for first years, their end of year tests were focused more on the knowledge of spells themselves rather than the ability to actually cast them.

Making her rounds around the room, she was pleased when Neville had managed to make the binding of his book 'crusty' looking. It was definitely a good indication that he was thinking in the right direction.

"Awesome, Neville, I can see the rocklike roughness," Harry said, happy for his friend.

Neville beamed before continuing his attempt.

Harry's hands and arms remained immobile, cradled in the double sling.

O o O o O

Severus entered his living room, planning on beginning the newest potions magazine he had just subscribed to. Unfortunately, just as he was about to recline back in his chair, the fireplace flared green.

Turning toward it, he found Lucius' face in the flames.

"Lucius," he greeted.

"I do hope I am not interrupting something that cannot wait," he began, though his voice wasn't quite apologetic.

"Not at all, though your fire-call is unexpected."

"Quite. May I step through? I have something I must speak to you about, and discussing it through the flames is not something I am overjoyed in doing."

"Of course, Lucius, you needn't ask," he said, deciding to be as inviting as possible.

Lucius' face disappeared, and a moment later he stepped through the flames. Severus motioned to the seat across from him beside the fireplace and Lucius took it without a word.

Curious, and privately a bit alarmed with the pureblood's sudden visit, Severus waited in silence, knowing Lucius would begin the conversation when he was ready.

"Severus, we are both respectable men."

"Yes, Lucius."

Where was this going?

"We know what is important and what is not."

Severus wasn't going to disagree with him, so nodded.

"I have become aware of certain . . . happenings within the Ministry."

"Happenings?"

"Whoever is responsible is actively avoiding me and attempting to remain completely hidden from everyone, but their subtle nuances are what caught my initial attention. I don't know who, so do not ask, but I am certain memory charms have been cast, and I would not be surprised if a few Imperios are involved as well. I do not know what they are up to exactly, but I have noticed a number of suspicious activities in a few departments. I do not believe the Ministry is involved in this. Heh — I doubt they even know anything is wrong — you know how pathetically easy it is to infiltrate them," he sneered before continuing. "Severus, there are powerful individuals poking around the Ministry who are attempting to kill the Potter boy; recent events have made that clear to me."

Severus frowned, wondering what Lucius expected him to do with this information. He was sure the man would not lie to him, not like this anyway.

"It must seem strange — me coming to you and telling you these things. The fact is, you and I are alike. We are bound to the boy with a life debt — yours through his father, and mine through my son. Few know of your debt to Potter, but for me . . . everyone knows. It is why these people have been sneaking around me. They know if I learn of their plans I will be obligated to act. They know I will not damn my family with the fury of old magic and ignore their aggressions to the one who saved my heir — boy-who-lived or not."

"I understand," Severus said, quickly deciding on a course of action. "Do you know what departments they have been focusing in? Anything specific?"

"Primarily research, specifically in the Forbidden Library. I don't have proof, but my suspicions lead to that forsaken place. There have been a few odd occurrences that would have been overlooked by most, but seemed a bit too out of place to me."

Well, if what Lucius was saying was true, it explained where they had gotten the curse. They had used the library, which also meant they had had access to all the other spells there. That did not bode well.

"Do you know how much access they exploited?" Severus asked.

"If my instinct is right, they accumulated roughly an hour in that place through means of having unsuspecting people do it for them. They are very good at what they do, Severus. Even if I had access to the logs for that place, I wouldn't be able to obtain proof that something untowardly was going on."

"What makes you think this activity is involved with the recent attack on Potter?"

"Really, Severus, the timing alone is reason to strongly suspect, particularly considering the ruthlessness of the curse, but the fact that they are trying to hide their actions from me should be enough of an indication." Lucius leaned back, his eyes growing dangerous. "You know I am not a stickler for the law, and if someone has a score to settle with someone, even if it involves using dark magicks, I won't report them. If anything, I will point them to a better source of materials; but with this debt I would not be able to do the same if I learned it involved Potter, no matter how much I loath to admit it. And they know this."

"I see. Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I will do what I can to assist in your obligation. As you said, I am burdened by it as well. Perhaps we can aid one another in the troublesome thing."

Lucius smiled. "I knew I was right in coming to you, Severus. You understand what is at stake. You know what is more important."

Severus bowed his head in agreement and in respectful dismissal.

He had much to do.

O o O o O

"You need help, Harry?" Neville asked him the next day as they got ready.

Harry would need to make a stop at the infirmary to switch out his casts and potion-soaked bandages before heading to breakfast, but thanks to the last few days of practice, it would only take fifteen minutes.

"No, Dobby has it. Thanks though," Harry said, sitting down on the edge of the bed as Dobby knelt at his feet to help him put on his shoes.

"You know, I don't get why you just don't heal yourself. You heal everyone else. If you're such a miracle worker, why not heal yourself — or do you like the attention? It's obvious that you like being served by the house elf," Smith stated coldly, gathering his things as he sent Harry a disgusted sneer.

"Lay off, will yuh?" Justin said as Harry turned his head toward Smith.

"If you must know, Smith, since the heart of your question is a reasonable one," he said, deciding to ignore the boy's hostility and obnoxious accusation, "Professor Snape told me not to. Not every bit of the curse is gone. If my magic touched the residue of the curse while it tried to heal my hands, it actually might reawaken the curse and the curse would use my magic as fuel, which would make it that much harder to stop. Madam Pomfrey agrees with Professor Snape." Harry looked down at his wrapped hands.

Professor Snape had roughly compared the curse to fire when explaining it to him. For fire to exist, it had to have three things: heat, oxygen, and fuel (something to burn). The curse was much the same way. It had to have enough of itself to act as 'heat', enough bone to act as 'oxygen', and magic to act as fuel. The initial fuel came from the magic the caster had put into the spell, but after that, it used the victim's.

It was disturbing to learn that it had not only been bone that had been burning away when he had been cursed, the innate magic in his hands had been being consumed as well, used in the horrible magical reaction. Thankfully, Professor Snape assured him the lost magic wasn't an issue.

Harry looked back up at Smith. "So I won't try to heal myself because it's safer this way, even if it may take weeks to get over it."

"Pfft, whatever," Smith said, before leaving.

"He's a right arse, isn't he?" Ernie stated, shaking his head.

"He has issues, that much is obvious," Justin agreed.

Harry just sighed, wishing Smith would stop acting like a jerk and leave him be. Every day it was pretty much the same with Smith. Snude remarks, hateful glares, sneers, and the like. It was really getting old, to be honest. But he wasn't doing anything else that could really be taken to a professor. He was just being a prick. Telling a teacher at this point wouldn't help things, if anything, it would only make Smith even more hostile.

Well, Harry decided, Smith just better keep things as they were and not escalate them. He wasn't sure what Dobby would do if Smith tried to pull something, but it probably wouldn't be pretty. Dobby was quite protective. And as for Coral, she had already told him she would bite him if given the chance.

Harry didn't ask if it would be a bite with or without venom, but hoped he would never have to find out, for Smith's sake.

Classes that day went as he had expected, as did the others that week. Much of it was listening while his self-writing quill took notes, but it actually wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. The only boring part of classes involved having to watch everyone do things, like cast spells and the like. Herbology was probably the worst in that regard, as most of it was working with one's hands.

Often times, Harry found himself having to remind himself that his condition wouldn't be forever.

O o O o O

"Thanks for letting me be here, professor," Harry said to the potions master.

They were in the infirmary with the Headmaster, Professor Lupin, Madam Pomfrey, and a few people from the Ministry, including the Minister and Healer Hippocrates Smethwyk. Healer Smethwyk, of course, was the head of the Dai Llewellyn Ward at St. Mungos. He was tasked with overseeing the test and taking notes of Professor Snape's new treatment to cure werewolves and provide immunity to others.

"This has been made possible by your efforts, Mr. Potter. You deserve to be here," Professor Snape said simply.

"Are you ready, Headmaster?" Healer Smethwyk asked, slightly unnerved by the items on the side table.

He knew a bit about muggle medicine, but he had never seen their tools first hand. The idea that this was common practice for muggles was surreal. There was so much power in blood that the thought of extracting blood samples from his patients on the daily basis was unthinkable. However, learning that muggles donated blood to be given to others was even more baffling to him. To be so selfless as to give a bit of one's life force to a complete stranger. . . . It was quite humbling.

"Yes, Hippocrates, I'm ready," Dumbledore answered, looking up at Severus who had moved to his right side with the needle ready.

"I trust you know what you are doing, Professor Snape?" Smethwyk asked, eyeing the muggle items with unease. They were almost . . . alien.

"I have complete trust in Severus," Dumbledore interrupted, rolling up his sleeve and allowing Severus to clean the crook of his elbow.

The Minister and the others in the room watched in morbid curiosity as Severus inserted the needle after a quiet warning of coming pain to Dumbledore. Nearly immediately, the bag began to fill.

"Well, that is certainly a memorable feeling," Albus stated simply, squeezing a balled-up purple sock in his right hand to help the blood flow.

All the while, the reporter was scribbling away on her parchment as Severus motioned for Remus to take the bed beside the headmaster.

Less than ten minutes later, Severus swiftly removed the needle and applied pressure as Madam Pomfrey cast a quick healing spell.

"Thank you, Severus," Albus said, before taking the offered water from Pomfrey.

"What's the plan now?" Smethwyk asked Severus, looking at Remus.

"Now the reverse," Severus answered, before setting to work. "Know I'm going to cast Petrificus Totalus on you to prevent you from moving when the white magic begins to work."

"I understand, Severus," Remus stated.

With the needle in place and having ensured there were no air bubbles in the line, he cast the spell to make Remus still and levitated the full bag to float above Remus' head.

They watched as the bag emptied into Remus' veins, and at first nothing happened.

:The blood is moving to his heart: Coral hissed softly. :That is where the root of the curse lies:

Harry nodded, feeling traces of the white magic shift through the air from Remus as it began getting to work. Less than a minute later, a blinding flash of white light signaled it was done.

Harry stepped forward with a smile before anyone could do or say anything. "The curse is gone. I don't feel it anymore," he said, looking to Professor Snape.

"Splendid!" Dumbledore stated, hopping up and lifting the spell from Remus.

Remus sat up and tried to fight back the grateful tears now fighting to pour out. He managed to keep them at bay, and though the others could see his struggle, they didn't say anything.

O o O o O

Harry was on his way to the library with Neville and Dobby that Sunday. The school was still buzzing with what had transpired the previous day, and many wondered what it would lead to. Of course, as most things go in school, adult matters were quickly overshadowed by other things. Like snow.

"Hey, Potter," Draco said, coming up beside him as they made their way down the corridor, Vince and Gregory with him.

"Hey," Harry said.

Draco didn't even glance at Dobby, but Dobby didn't seem to mind.

"We're headed outside, want to come?" Draco asked. "Nott mentioned one of the upper years charming a snowman to dance when snowballs are thrown at it — it might still be there."

Interested, Harry nodded, deciding a break from going to the library might do him and Neville some good. They didn't seem to be getting anywhere with their research right then anyway.

Draco straightened in pleasure and once they were all set with their cold-weather robes, he opened the door for Harry as they went out.

Coral was nestled comfortably and warmly within Harry's robes. Only her head stuck out just above the clasp of his outer robe a few inches below his chin. She would not need to worry about being cold at all, as Harry's body heat was so close to her and several layers of cloth were between her and the outside air. Not to mention she also had her silk 'sweater'.

With a nod of thanks, Harry passed Draco and went outside, finding the grounds of Hogwarts covered in another layer of snow. Evidently, it had snowed again the previous night.

"This way, Nott said it was just outside the greenhouses," Draco said.

Following Draco, Harry wished he could rub his hands together. It was rather cold out, even with his layers, and his hands were feeling a bit achy, to be honest. But the soreness was soon overlooked as they came upon the elaborate snowman wearing a bright red vest and with an enlarged quill for a nose.

Sure enough, the snowman began dancing when Draco picked up a handful of snow and threw it at him.

"This is brilliant, who made it?" Harry asked.

"Some seventh year from Ravenclaw is what I heard," Draco answered, making another snowball before trying to hit the snowman in the head.

He missed.

All of them joined in, well, save for Harry, but he was enjoying the fun along with them despite not being able to participate fully. Even Dobby attempted to hit the agile, animated snowman.

"Come on, we should head back inside," Neville said once the cold was beginning to be hard to ignore.

"Alright, but let's go around to the other entrance. I want to see if Flint was true to his word and made a fort," Draco said, once again leading the way.

"Alright there, Harry?" Neville asked, pausing when he noticed Harry grimace.

"It's nothing. My hands just aren't liking the cold much," he admitted.

"Why didn't you say something?" Neville asked, his voice worried.

"Master's hands are cold?" Dobby asked, his eyes growing wide in concern.

"No more than the rest of yours," Harry said lightly.

Really, did they have to make a big deal out of everything?

"Dobby will help," he said, snapping his fingers.

Suddenly, a soothing warmth enveloped his casts, giving his hands the heat they were craving. Harry couldn't help but exhale softly in relief.

"Thanks, Dobby," he said, wondering how many times he would say that before his hands were healed, and if Dobby would get tired of hearing it. Though, by the look on the elf's face, he doubted that would be any time soon.

"Hey, you guys coming?" Draco asked, noticing they were no longer following him.

"Yeah," Harry said, hurrying to catch up, Neville and Dobby with him.

Coming around the greenhouses, they could see the vegetable garden (though there wasn't really much growing there just then), and there were a few other students scattered throughout, some throwing snowballs at each other.

Walking further, they were able to see the fort Flint had mentioned to Draco. Flint and a few other Slytherins were pelting anyone with mounds of snow who ventured near. It was actually quite humorous.

"Hey, so he wasn't just kidding around," Draco said, running forward to join Flint in his assault against some Gryffindors and forgetting that they had been planning on going back inside.

"You can go ahead, Neville," Harry said kindly, having seen Neville's eyes look at those playing. "I'll be fine here."

"You sure?" he asked. "I don't want you to be left out."

"Not much anyone can do about that, so go ahead. Hit some Gryffindors for me with Draco. I can watch from here and keep score," Harry said with a smirk, actually not that bothered about not being able to join in.

"Alright, Harry," Neville said with a smile before going off and joining Draco and the other Slytherins.

Harry and Dobby watched the snowball fight ensue. Of course, those who had shelter had an advantage, so Flint and those on his side were living it up. Though, the twins from Gryffindor were certainly making things interesting.

"Fire!" one shouted.

"Reload!" the other said.

They had created a contraption that launched ten snowballs at once.

"Retaliate!" a Slytherin from within the fort said.

Harry smiled, part of him wishing he could be in there with them, but another admitting it was rather fun to watch without having to worry about being smacked with a handful of snow.

After a few minutes, Draco left the fort and began heading back to Harry. Neville, Vince, and Gregory continued helping Flint.

"You really are pathetic. You know that, right?"

Harry turned and found Smith leaning up against the tree behind him, the now permanent peeved look of Smith glaring back at him. Dobby straightened.

:I don't think I've ever wanted to bite someone more than I do now: Coral hissed quietly.

"What do you want, Smith?" Harry asked, bored with it all.

"You to know how lame you are," he said.

The very few people close enough to hear turned their attention to them. What was the idiot Hufflepuff up to now?

Dobby moved forward, clearly enraged someone would say that to his master.

"Dobby, don't do anything. He's not worth the effort," Harry said, feeling he had to say something, otherwise Dobby may just pounce on the ponce.

"Keeping your pet on a leash, I see," he sneered.

"He's not my pet, he's my friend," Harry answered with a bit of force.

A small crowd was beginning to form around them. Smith was eating it up. Harry was annoyed.

"Well, I suppose since he's been helping you with everything, it's easier to think of him that way. Tell me, Potter, how does it feel to have to rely on him to help you with certain private businesses? Are the bathroom stalls big enough to accommodate you both or do you have to choose to go at certain times of the day and hope no one walks in on you?"

Harry couldn't help but redden, recalling how that had been one of his concerns until Madam Pomfrey had set that straight. He liked Dobby and was grateful for everything he did for him, but the thought of him being that close to him . . . no. Just no.

About to reply to Smith's taunts, Harry was suddenly interrupted by a snicker, which quickly caved into full laughter.

Turning to his right, he was surprised to find Draco laughing and stepping out of the small group watching several yards away. Harry looked down, an odd feeling of sadness swelling in his chest. Was Draco laughing at him? But before he could do or say anything, the blond stepped directly in front of him and faced Smith.

Still chuckling a bit, Draco managed to calm himself so he could actually speak.

"You're the sorriest excuse for a pureblood I have ever seen, Smith, you daft arse. Every true pureblood knows the abilities of house elves. For centuries they have served wizards, and in that time they have never needed to resort to such embarrassing methods of care, even when their master can no longer get out of bed due to age or injury. Elves can vanish unwanted things in an area, Smith, even things they can't currently see, including waste that has yet to leave the body. Every wizard worth his wand knows that.

"It's really too bad you can't be taken care of in the same way, but I suppose you're not a thing. I wonder, though . . . what kind of twisted sicko are you? To have given so much thought about someone else's bodily functions. . . ."

Many of the students around snickered at that, and a few couldn't help but laugh out loud, to the utter shame and embarrassment of Zacharias Smith.

The humiliated boy reacted, quite unintelligently and immaturely, shouting the first offensive spell that popped into his demented mind as he thrust out his wand.

"Everte Statum!"

Draco was completely taken by surprise, as were everyone watching, and was blasted back — hard.

Unfortunately, Harry was right behind him.

Harry couldn't help but release a strangled cry as his hands and wrists jarred painfully against the unforgiving walls of the casts, the sudden pain so severe that he could have sworn his vision had flashed red as he landed on his back, Draco landing upon him.

Draco scrambled up, horrified.

"Harry!" he shouted, watching as Coral slipped free and began hissing frantically at Harry, at the moment oblivious to the cold.

:Harry, don't let your magic touch it!: she cried.

:Too late: Harry managed to grit through his teeth as he tightly closed his eyes, not needing to see the black fire to know the curse had reawakened.

O o O o O

Severus was bored.

Really, how many times did they have to go through this? It wasn't like his lessons really needed to change all that much, and why should they even be discussing giving Professor Binn's requested five extra minutes of lecture time? It wasn't like the students were actually getting anything from the dead man's lectures, and the extra five minutes of painful boredom wouldn't improve matters at all for the students' education.

He really should figure out a way to get rid of the droning ghost.

"What do you think, Severus?" Albus asked, looking at him from over his half-moon spectacles. Clearly the Headmaster thought that the potions master was being too quiet.

"I frankly think it is a waste of time. We all know he's more of a fixture of Hogwarts than an actual professor. Giving the ghost another five minutes would be a mockery to rest of us who are actually teaching," Severus stated bluntly. "If we are seriously discussing altering the length of lectures, why not shorten History of Magic and give the time to a professor who will actually use it to benefit the students rather than bore them to death?"

"Severus!" Minerva admonished.

"I have to admit, I am with Severus, Headmaster," Sprout put in. "Cuthbert has taught for nearly four hundred years. Anyone would have lost touch with how to instruct students. And by simply looking at the numbers, how many students take History of Magic after their OWLs? I dare say I can count the number on one hand, which is really quite a shame."

"Pomona is right, Albus. Last year, only three students obtained a NEWT in History of Magic, and they had taught themselves because they had a personal interest in it. They hadn't taken Binn's class," Minerva relented.

"I see," Albus said, intrigued. He had never seriously taken the time to look into how History of Magic was doing.

It had been the same since Binns had taken the position, and no one had ever really questioned the situation. It was just another quirk of Hogwarts. A fixture. . . .

"What do you propose then?" he asked.

"Hire a new teacher," Severus replied simply, his voice totally detached.

"And where is Cuthbert to go?" Albus asked.

"He's an intellectual. Allow him to tutor those who care to listen. Perhaps he will not be as apt to drone then, and who knows, perhaps he will enjoy the arrangement," Severus answered.

Albus nodded, thinking it over. He wasn't averse to the idea. Even he remembered the ghost's tiresome lectures in his school days. "Perhaps over the summer I will be able to find a replacement and discuss it with Cuthbert. Any ideas to possible applicants?" he asked, his eyes passing over them all.

"Well, Albus, I believe—"

Abruptly, Severus stood up, interrupting Flitwick as he dashed out of the office and exclaimed, "Get Poppy! Potter's in trouble!"

O o O o O

Harry heard people shouting and crying, but it was all just a hum of chaos to him.

He couldn't see Dobby with a foot on Smith's back, preventing him from trying to run away again. He couldn't make out Draco calling his name, didn't know Neville had scooped Coral up from the ground beside him, and couldn't feel the cold snow melting beneath him and soaking into his robes.

All he could sense was the curse surging up his forearms, sucking at his magic and destroying bone as it went.

It's feeding off of my magic to do this, but I can't simply get rid of my magic, he thought through the pain. I need to stop it! Can I dissolve it like Lycanthropy? Fire — think! Harry — think! How do you put out fire?

Smother it. . . . he answered himself, rolling to his side and grunting from the effort as he gathered as much magic as he could, even pulling magic from the potion soaked bandages in his desperate attempt to save himself.

Tears in his eyes and half of his face in the snow beneath him, he shoved it all, violently, down his arms and all the way to the tips of his fingers, ruthlessly crushing the curse and obliterating it with the sheer force of his frantic magic.

A rush of what he could only describe as steam flooded his body immediately after, as if red hot steel had been doused in water. There was no white magic, no brilliant flash of light, but an eruption of something even more powerful before it suddenly went utterly tranquil.

It had stopped.

The pain had stopped.

Although, now his hands and arms were completely numb.

He exhaled, his ears buzzing from the adrenaline still coursing through him.

"Harry?" someone asked him. He was too dazed to make out who it was.

"He needs to be taken to the infirmary," another said.

"Allow me," a slightly older voice said. He vaguely recognized the voice but couldn't remember from where.

"No, wait. No magic. We don't know what it might do."

"Neville's right. Flint?"

Suddenly, he felt himself get turned over and lifted up, his arms still wrapped and secured against him. Opening his eyes, he blinked, realizing his glasses must have fallen off during his struggle, but by the blurry colors of the person holding him, he was able to conclude they were a Slytherin.

"Just relax, I won't drop you," the large Slytherin boy said.

Flint?

Not really able to do anything else, he trusted him, but kept his eyes open, despite feeling totally drained.

:Coral?: Harry hissed.

Surprisingly, Flint didn't even pause at hearing parseltongue, but quickly entered the castle at nearly a run and continued to the infirmary.

:I'm here, Harry. Neville is carrying me and we're following: Coral answered, hissing loudly from somewhere behind him so he could hear her over the echoing footsteps.

O o O o O

Professor Snape met up with them on the way to the infirmary, while the Headmaster, Professor Sprout and McGonagall continued to relieve Dobby of Smith.

Draco and the others were kept out of the infirmary once they arrived. Only Flint was ushered in, as he was carrying Harry. Soon after though, he joined them in the hall.

"Do you think he's alright?" Neville asked, looking to Flint as he was the last one there who saw him.

Flint looked down at Longbottom with an odd look on his face, as if he couldn't believe he was having a conversation with the Longbottom boy before he looked to the closed doors of the hospital wing.

"I believe he will be. Professor Snape seemed a bit relieved after he cast a diagnostic spell on him, though it's hard to tell with him," Flint said.

Draco released a sigh of relief, but then gave a startled gasp as the infirmary doors suddenly opened, Professor Snape exiting swiftly with his robes billowing behind him.

"Draco, walk with me," he stated, his eyes unreadable.

Obeying, Draco hurried to his side, leaving Neville and the others behind. Once they were halfway down the hall, Snape spoke again.

"Tell me what happened."

Draco quickly told him everything, including things that had occurred with Smith before the jealous snob erupted that day. He told him how Smith was continually throwing Potter hateful glares and the like, and that Neville had told him a few days ago about comments made by Smith in the dorms.

"Thank you, Draco. You may return to the infirmary," Snape said as they arrived in front of the Headmaster's gargoyle.

"Yes, sir," Draco answered, deciding he would ask about how Harry was doing later, as the man seemed distracted. He began to walk away.

"One moment, Draco," Snape said, taking a few steps forward and pulling out his wand.

Draco couldn't help but raise a questioning eyebrow, but then lowered it when it became clear his godfather was just making sure he was alright after enduring a pointblank spell to the chest. Once assured he was alright, Snape nodded him off. Draco hurried back to the infirmary, while the potions master muttered the ridiculous password and made his way up the spiral staircase to Dumbledore's office.