“He was strong when he fought. He was strong when faced with danger. He was strong when he had to save the world. But…when it came to surviving the day-to-day onslaught of life’s constant barb, the Boy-Who-Lived was weak. Fortunately, there were some who would not stand for his pouting, or his stupidity.”

-from The Boy-Who-Lived, A Biography by George Fiddler

Harry broke his mind from the ramblings of hatred, and smiled sadistically. He drained the remaining Energy Potion, convulsing slightly at the taste. His flask had been nearly halfway full when he had reached for it. He had taken slightly more than the recommended dose.

Adrenaline surging he left his personal cove, and traversed the school.

In purposeful Parseltongue, he muttered to himself as he entered the Great Hall. “Well, my dear Marauders, you should enjoy this if nothing else. I do have to lose in the end, but first I think I might take my payment for a lifetime in a private hell.” He sighed pensively, “I almost wish Malfoy and I hated each other a bit more than we do. This could have been such fun.” He stopped beside the Slytherin table giving a slight glance as a cue to Draco, then began to speak, louder now, “Malfoy.”

“Potter.”

“Shall we do this then?” Harry asked in Parseltongue. Draco had told him before that he was the only Slytherin to understand any of the elusive language.

Without any other warning, Harry flung Draco into the wall with a slight flick of his wand before dropping his cloak. The whole point of the façade was to convince Voldemort he was nothing more than an egotistical novice, and Harry planned to give a show that would have made Lockheart proud.

His raiment was more fitted to a battle field than a school. Black silk and leather, both completely silent, litheness evident in his form, and a deadly note sang from his stance. He had changed clothing for that reason.

He waited for Draco to stand, and their parts began.

“My second is Millicent Bulstrode.” Draco said softly, much to the surprise of opponent and onlookers. “Yours? Oh, you don’t have anyone to fight for you, do you, Potter?”

“No. I have no need. I do my own fighting. I do it openly and I don’t ever attack those I love, unlike some I could name.”

Ripples of an unidentifiable emotion moved through the hall.

“If you’re sure…” Draco forced Harry to meet his eyes and nodded.

This works, we’re both temperamental, hormonal teenage males caught up in a world of chaos and hidden war, and want to spend a few minutes hitting something. Both of us are extremely talented and have killed before. Both of us also have issues surrendering. Now we are going to attack one another. Merlin, but I enjoy this plan.

“Rictumsempra!” Harry shouted dramatically.

It hit Draco, who backflipped with it, landed and snapped, “Appenaesa.” Harry suppressed an urge to block the spell, allowing it to throw him backwards, into the air, over the Staff table, through a ladder backed chair and onto the hard stone ground.

A long distance whisper spoke softly in Harry ear, unheard by anyone else, “We need to move the students and teachers out of our way. Find a way.” It was Draco. He had taught Harry the spell a week earlier. Harry heard it, but had no ideas of how to rectify the situation. He crawled to a crouch and leapt the table, firing a reducer curse.

Draco stepped to the side and the red bolt blew someone’s breakfast into a cloud of toast, apple slices, and flying forks. One of which flew at Neville’s eye. Half an inch away though, Neville’s hand snapped up and caught it. For an instant, the room was staring at the school’s notorious klutz.

Then Draco shot a second Appenaesa, and Harry found himself splayed over a platter of Hufflepuff tarts—the baked type. Unfortunately he had gone through the Hufflepuff who had been in his way. She was now sporting a broken nose.

“Find a way Potter, we can’t fight like this.” Draco said in the same furtive manner.

Harry rolled off the table, standing tall, and smirked again. “I’m so terribly sorry, but you were in my way. You should be more careful.” He held out his wand and the tables shot to the walls. Students found themselves standing in their meals, unable to move, and the teaching staff was pinned to the wall, feet dangling. Not sure how I did that.

Harry dodged the next few spells, idly throwing responses back. One particularly nasty hex caught him in the side of the head.

It tossed him like a rag doll through the air until he landed on his already injured ankle. His overdose on potion was having two effects: he was numb to almost any pain, and he was beginning to lose his grip on reality. Several times his mind had drifted into thoughts of dancing plums and candied apples, neither of which portended a great mental security.

Harry shook his head fiercely, rolling to dodge three consecutive disarming curses. He missed them all, but was forced to pause as he rose to his feet. A fourth curse hit him in the stomach, and Harry suppressed the instinctive, wandless reaction.

Draco waltzed cruelly to him, two wands carried like war trophies. “Would you like me to attack again Draco, or was that sufficient?” Harry asked in harsh Parseltongue.

“Well, well Potter. That was impressive, wasn’t it?” Draco replied in English. “I’m amazed you’ve survived as long as you have. Lockheart could have done better.” High on potion, Harry stopped listening, but found it dreadfully amusing that they had both thought the same way. Draco returned the wand, and mockingly nodded his head before walking away.

Harry sat on the ground in the middle of the Great Hall, wondering absently why no one was yelling at him. His mind was swimming and very little was making sense. There were four Draco’s walking away. Harry thought it was unfair since there was only one of him. A funny voice told him to let the students on the wall down. It seemed like a good enough idea, and with a tremendous crash, everyone returned to their previous location.

Smiling like a drunken sop, Harry staggered out of the hall, wondering absently where he would be able to find a pink and green acromantuala who could sing and dance.

======

When Harry James Potter, boy-who-lived woke up in the Chamber of Secrets, it was with a resounding headache, reopened injuries and a strong desire to vomit. Repeatedly.

The latter need was quickly satiated, and Harry managed walk a few steps before collapsing. His breath was short and there was no part of his body that was free from pain. He wiped at his mouth, coughing loudly, and wiped his hand on his trousers, only to realize a moment later the futility of the act. He was a mass of filth and muck.

The spells to repair it were simple, but he wanted his wand, and had no idea where it could be found. Even if he had known its exact location, he could never have reached it. His stomach was little more than an aching pit, and his body, in addition to the pain, was hollow and shaky.

Cautiously, he touched the old wound on his side. The lines were still there, but the depression was barely even visible.

He rolled his eyes to the heavens, asking what had happened before he fell back to sleep.

=====

The second time he woke, it was to a voice shouting in his ear.

Professor Snape’s to be precise.

“’fessor?” Harry asked thickly. Eyes still closed, he felt a flask push against his lips and he, too ill to fight, drank what was given. Nothing happened at first, but as seconds passed to minutes, he felt the darkness leave, and he climbed out of the fog. “Where am I?” He asked, voice like torn paper.

“Be quiet and take this.” Harry touched a small bottle, and felt an absolutely unwelcome pull behind his naval. He landed clumsily in Snape’s office, and rolled immediately to vomit.

Except that there was nothing in his stomach.

After a moment of choking up stomach acid, Snape stunned the boy to end the suffering, awakening him a second later.

Draco was lying on a couch, potion soaked bandages over his left eye. “So you aren’t dead. What a pity.”

“Draco, I allowed you to come here only on your promise you would remain silent. Please do so.”

“Professor? You came back? When?”

“I returned this morning after Draco convinced our Master that I still had a few uses left, none of which were of any good if I died. He released me and I returned to find out what you had done. Potter I had always known that you were a fool, but if I had known you were still suicidal I might have kept a closer watch. What possessed you to do that?”

Harry frowned, several questions begging to take precedence. He lifted his hand and found it shaking to the point of a seizure. Snape grabbed the limb and snarled. “Draco, go find something for the idiot to eat, and something for me as well.”

“Where were you?” Harry slurred when his mind managed to find some order.

“I was being held by the Dark Lord. I displeased him, and was punished accordingly.”

“For almost a week?”

“For almost a month actually. His standard punishment is to put us on a roof with nothing but ourselves until we lose our sanity. I was a few days away when Draco persuaded him. Draco has risen quickly since your…demonstration.” Severus continued but Harry had stopped on the word month. The professor had been gone for six days when Harry had attacked Draco; the basic math left his mouth slightly ajar. “Good, you’ve figured it out. I told you not to take too much of that potion, but that was too smart for you. You were essentially in a coma for three weeks. If you weren’t a wizard you’d be dead, although you are close to it.” Draco returned with a house-elf in tow, and Harry was handed a pile of food. “Eat all of it Potter, I don’t feel like having to nurse you to health.”

An hour, three plates of food, and several dozen spells keeping the food down later, Harry was able to stand by himself. His speech had returned to normal but his throat still hurt. Draco sat beside them, eating occasionally, but concentrating on his left arm. He was rubbing it like it was tender.

Finally Draco sat up and said, “Neither of you has been in contact with the world for the past while, and since I have been, Severus you, if not Harry would like to be updated.” Both men nodded and waited. “There have been many on this note, but this one sums them all up rather nicely.” Draco explained as he pulled a copy of the Prophet from his bag.

Traitor Goes Missing

Attacks Grow Worse

Mysterious Hero Gone

Hogwarts Seeks New Potions Master

Both Harry and Serverus stopped reading at that point, looking to Draco for explanations. “That’s from a week ago. You still have your job Severus, no need to worry. Harry however, has quite a few reasons to worry.”

“What now? Has the Ministry decided to remove me from the school? Or has Tom decided to kill my loved ones? Oh, wait, I forgot, I don’t have any loved ones.” Draco looked away, the first time Harry had seen him truly abashed. “Merlin, I’m right aren’t I?” Draco nodded. “What and who?”

“They want you expelled and taken to Azkaban. They feel you would be, quote “safer there, so that he might train” unquote. As to whom: Neville is the only remaining Longbottom. His grandmother and uncle were found dead three days ago. Oliver Wood gave an interview in Witch Weekly when he was awarded Most Charming Smile in which he said that he did not believe you supported the Dark Lord. He was taken in for questioning, and is currently incarcerated at Azkaban Prison.”

Harry saw a brief glimpse of inner anger in Severus’ eyes before responding. “Azkaban has no dementors though, it can’t be so bad.”

Draco hesitated then removed a second paper.

Ministry Develops Spell to Recreate the Feeling of a Dementor; first prisoner use will be O. Wood

Harry shouted an obscenity and in his anger, forgot to control his magic. The paper burst into flame. Draco’s eyebrow raised, “At least you didn’t ruin your magic with your little stunt. Now you understand, there are several men and women being held in Azkaban. Twenty-three as of latest count. One of them is there on charges of conspiring with the Dark Lord. The rest are there thanks to the Traitor Act.”

Harry growled, deep in his throat, and resisted the need to choke. “What about here at Hogwarts?”

“Your former group has created a rather dangerous gang, almost to the par of the Russian Mafia. Naturally Slytherin has retaliated. The halls double as a war zone currently.”

“As if there weren’t enough of those.” The Potions Master muttered, reaching for a flask.

Draco ignored the comment and continued. “Dumbledore looks on it as a way to weed out the unworthy students. Slytherins namely.”

“Why do you say that?” Severus asked.

“I heard him. You didn’t give Slytherin House lessons for nothing Professor. Harry, when you step out of this room the entire school is going to drop into chaos. Used properly you can end the warfare and create a safe haven for yourself. Your personal update: Weasley is running the Gryffindors, and has been in the Hospital wing twice. Granger has created more protection spells than we can identify, and seems to be the tactician. Longbottom is the second hand, and a Miss Cho Chang is running the Ravenclaw branch. MacMillan is grudgingly in charge of the Hufflepuffs.

“Oh, and your team found a clause stating the number of practices you can miss before being removed. You’re off the Quidditch team.”

Harry said nothing, but rose and left. Draco nodded to Severus and followed.

=====

Half an hour later Remus Lupin walked into Severus’ office, haggard and red-eyed. “You found him? Where? How is he? Why didn’t you contact me sooner? Where have you been?”

“Shut up Lupin and take a seat. He was in the Chamber of Secrets, he’s sicker than hell, and I haven’t contacted you because I was being held by the Dark Lord for the last month. Draco Malfoy helped me out and then informed me of what had happened to Potter. He’s angry, and I’m no sure how he would take it if I was forced to kill you. He may have some lingering attachment to you that I will never understand.”

“Why was he sick?”

“He overdosed on an Energy Potion I gave him and went into a coma. We’re lucky, he may not be damaged irreparably.

“I want to talk to him.”

“You can’t and you know it, now stop complaining.”

“I wasn’t complaining.”

“It was preemptive. Get inside, I need to restock my potion supplies, and you are slightly better than a complete imbecile.”

=====

Draco chased Harry down the winding corridors, determined to beat some sense back into the world’s savior. After a few minutes Harry felt the exhaustion he was plagued with, and collapsed on a windowsill. Draco caught up quickly and cast an immediate silencing spell.

“Don’t try to fight it you Gryffindor fool. I want to talk and I don’t want to listen to your inane comments.” Harry’s face darkened, but he sat still. “If you haven’t noticed, I know about Severus position. I don’t understand why he’s helping you, but I know that he is, and as a double agent myself, I can respect him.

“You, though…You make no sense. When this year started you were a rock, a pillar of strength and incapable of being hurt, now look at you: Unable to walk, unable to fight, and apparently unable to think. It takes a certain amount of Energy Potion to cause a dangerous reaction, and you took more than three times that amount. If I thought it would have any point I would just beat you with a large stick, but I don’t think you’d even feel it.

“I know that you’ve had more than your share of pain in life, but I don’t care. You are the Boy-Who-Lived, like it or not, and if you don’t get up off your ass and start fighting again, the world is doomed. I’m not trying to be melodramatic, but it’s true. By our best interpretation of that bloody prophecy you are both immortal until the other one dies. The Dark Lord has ordered the theory be tested, so expect a few attempts on your life in the next few weeks. Maybe even from me.

“You’re a fool for thinking that you can just run away from this. It will find you, and you will fight him one day. If you win, maybe you’ll remember me, if you lose, the Dark Lord will raise my status further. I’m already one of his most exulted servants. Rumors in the papers say that he has found a new weapon. That weapon is me. I leave this school each night to kill people I’ve known since childhood, so I don’t want to hear about you and your sad story. Bugger your sad story. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you train and that you fight and that you kill. You’ve been hurt, and you’ll be hurt again, but there is much worse.

“You were hit in the side with a specialized Reductor curse almost two months ago. It left a whole in your side and hurt like hell. It might be close to healing by now.” Draco paused for the first time. “I apologize for that. If I had known it was you that had repeatedly countered our attacks, I would have used a less visible curse. Yes, I know it was you now. It wasn’t hard to work out. You disappeared and the ‘hero’ disappeared. It’s sickening that no one else has worked that out yet.”

He hesitated. “If you’ll stay quiet I’ll take the spell off.” Harry nodded and the countercurse was performed. “You have to fight Harry.” Draco said imploringly. “You have to. The world may hate you, but you can’t just let them die. There must be someone you want to see alive and well for years. There must be, because if there isn’t then there isn’t any point in Severus or me or the innocent little first years, or even the damned muggles trying to care because we don’t matter. You do. You can save us, no one else.”

“I don’t care if everyone in this world dies Draco. They’ve never done anything but scorn and hate me. Besides, why do you care? You’re practically a dead man as it is.”

Draco ignored the question and said, “If I can find someone who you do care about will you fight?”

“There isn’t anyone.”

“But if there was, would you fight?”

Harry revealed no emotion, but paused, and silently looked past Draco. Eventually Harry spoke softly, “I would fight with every fiber of my being if I knew that there was even one person who cared what happened to me.”

Draco nodded, “Give me a few weeks then. For now, do everyone a favor and make your return flamboyant. I’ll find a house elf and see if we can’t get you back to health.”

“Draco?”

“Yes.”

“Why are you bothering?”

“Well, aside from needing you to kill the Dark Lord and harboring a small need for you to restart your nighttime attacks, I know someone that might appreciate it.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I didn’t think you would.”