Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill!

Harry woke up with a start. The voice was louder this time, violent and urgent.

He shivered in his sweaty clothes on top of the covers of his bed. His quill, parchment and Transfiguration text lay at his feet. He had only meant to lay back for a few minutes, rest his eyes but he must have fallen asleep. He looked out the charmed window of the dungeons and sighed as stars tinkled merrily at him.

He pushed himself off the bed, surprised that his legs were weak and shaking beneath him. He was almost grateful for the hateful, mysterious voice as at least his nightmare was at an end. He could no longer hear his mother’s screams.

He supposed it was destiny that Halloween would never be a happy holiday for him.

He gained his balance quickly and picked up his mother’s photograph from his bedside table. The wrinkled and worn picture was now preserved in a beautiful silver frame his father had gotten him for his birthday, his only present. It was the only thing Severus could afford with his teacher’s pension.

But it suited her, Harry thought as he traced his index finger along the ivy etching.

“Harry!”

He jumped at Hermione’s voice, as she came running into the room he shared with Draco. Her eyes stared at him with an excited but slightly concerned expression when she saw his face and what he held. She slowed down and smiled at him, taking him by the hand.

“Come on, Harry. We’ll miss the feast.”

He nodded and sat down his mother’s picture.

“Are you going to be okay?”

Kill… Kill… Master says…

He faked a smile for Hermione’s sake and was relieved that she did not see through his façade. “Yea, I’ll be fine.”

***

Large eyes watched the two children from behind the window curtain. The creature’s large bat-like ears twitched before it snapped its fingers and blinked out of existence with a soft ‘pop’.

***

Severus was only going to the feast for his son’s sake. He knew that Granger would no doubt drag him there if he did not want to go.

However, once he reached the Great Hall through the side entrance, he found that every student was crowded around the doors leading to the Entrance Hall, craning their necks to see something beyond them. Their food was left untouched and the jack-o-lanterns still floated ominously above the empty tables.

Severus’ heart pounded hard as he hurried to the doors and pushed through the students. Most parted for him while others he merely pushed out of the way, mainly first-years who were not as used to his snarling attitude.

He heard Lockhart long before he saw him.

“There now, Argus. I will handle the culprits! Now if you would kindly step aside, Minerva–!”

He heard Harrry’s short scream and Draco’s spitting words seconds before they came into view.

“Let go of him, you bloody idiot, before you’re eating slugs for weeks!”

Severus registered several things at once. Lockhart held his son’s arm in a tight grip and Harry had never more resembled Lily then he did then. He scratched and clawed against his professor like a mad cat. Draco’s nose was bleeding heavily as his swayed, wand pointed at Lockhart. Hermione sat on the ground where she had been pushed down, sitting in a puddle of water as it poured like a waterfall down the main staircase, drowning everyone’s feet up till their ankles.

He strode forward quickly and lifted Lockhart by his robes. A shocked look crossed the man’s too pretty face and he let go of Harry reflexively. Severus threw him forcefully to the ground and aimed his wand at him.

“What the hell were you doing, Gilderoy?” Severus asked in furious calmness.

Lockhart merely gaped up at him, mouth moving like a fish out of water. Then he began to stutter badly.

Draco wiped his nose with the back of his hand, smearing the blood across his cheek, and cursed. Severus cast him a disapproving glance while the boy merely muttered, “I had it covered you know.”

“I have no doubts,” Severus replied. Draco scowled and swayed a bit before Harry took him by the arm and let Draco put his weight on him.

“Now, Severus–” McGonagall began before she was cut off by the arrival of the Headmaster.

His no longer twinkling blue eyes looked at the group, resting on the trio and the three professors. He glanced at an angrily sobbing Argus Filch before he asked, as if discussing the weather, “What appears to be the problem?”

Lockhart, sensing an escape, bounded to his feet. “Headmaster, I was only applying disciplinary actions where they were due.” Getting as much space between himself and the Potions master as possible, he continued. “I was punishing–”

“Manhandling,” said Hermione smartly, standing up, robes dripping.

“–punishing these three for vandalism against school property and cursing Mr. Filch’s cat.”

“Cursing?!” bellowed Filch. “They’ve bloody well killed her!”

Almost as one, Severus and Dumbledore’s eyes rose to take in the stiff cat hanging from a wall sconce and the glimmering words on the wall above her – Enemies of the Heir, Beware!

Severus walked forward and touched one sparkling letters above him. His fingers came away covered in red. He looked at Dumbledore quickly and they seemed to hold an entire conversation in that one gaze.

“Children, Argus, Gilderoy, Minerva, Severus, let us discuss this in my office.”

***

Professor McGonagall quietly escorted the three from the screams of Dumbledore’s office into the empty corridors. Everyone else had been commanded back to their dorms early and the other professors took patrols out of caution and fear.

Draco, Harry and Hermione didn’t dare speak in front of their professor as she shined her wand around every corner before ushering them on. Coming outside the portrait of Salazar Slytherin she scowled at the drunken lout, snoozing in his frame, bottle dangling from limp fingers. Casting a glance at the three, she stood off to the side and stamped her foot sharply.

“Gillyweed,” muttered Hermione, cowed by the scrutiny in her Head of House’s stare. Yet, McGonagall did not bother to follow them in, she merely sealed the door with magic that Severus would undo once he arrived from the Headmaster’s office.

Once the portrait closed entirely, Draco’s stubborn front fell and his friends quickly helped him to the sofa in front of fire. He huffed aggravated and took the potion Harry had fished from his robe pocket.

“Can you believe Lockhart?” asked Hermione rhetorically, practically seething. “The idiocy of a professor from a great school like this…”

“Dumbledore sure knows how to pick ‘em, eh?” muttered Draco.

Harry stared into the flames. The haunting words echoed in his brain from earlier. He looked sideways at his silent friends and decided against telling them.

No use telling them something like that. I’m already a freak. Don’t need to make it worse.

Harry sighed, missing the look shared by Draco and Hermione at this. Draco shook his head and looked back at the dwindling fire.

“To think that I bled my nose on purpose to write on the wall… Does he think that I go around carrying blood replenishing potions in my school bag just so I can write unimaginative messages in the Entrance Hall?”

“Well, you do have blood replenishing potions in your bag,” said Harry gently, the corner of his lips twitching.

“That is beside the point. The point is Lockhart is a nutter.”

“Tell us something we don’t know,” said Harry, now grinning at his friend, green eyes twinkling a bit even as shadowed as they always were.

Draco shoved him slightly but he was smiling.

Hermione smiled herself and looked into the fire, fighting the fear of what to come and just being content in the moment.

***

Weeks went by and still there was no change in Mrs. Norris though Professor Sprout’s mandrakes were coming along nicely enough that she would be revived by the end of the school term. No one was happier with this news than the Weasley Twins with their enemy incapacitated. Walking through the hallways was more horrible than usual as Peeves was always more than happy to help them.

“This is utterly ridiculous,” said Hermione hopping across a small glowing, gooey pond concocted by none other than Fred and George.

In fact, the two were following the trio as they walked to their dorm. They realized they were being followed when they turned down the Potions corridor in the dungeons. Glancing behind her, Hermione whirled to face them, almost throwing Draco off balance who had been unknowingly keeping a few fingers fisted in her robe to support himself in case he fell.

“Why are you following us?” she asked snobbishly, sounding such a far bit like Draco that Harry had to fight from giggling. Fred – or was it George – opened their mouth to respond when she cut them off, saying, “You do not have Potions this quarter so why?”

“Merlin, does Granger know everything?” asked one to the other.

“I don’t know, George, if so she wouldn’t be with the Heir of Slytherin.”

“What?” she asked perturbed. Harry looked at Draco as he became rigid at Fred’s words.

“The Heir of Slytherin,” replied the one on the right, George. “That’s what that little blighter, Zabini, is calling Potter.”

“He’s off his rocker,” said Draco relaxing a little, but his voice was still tense.

“Of course,” said the twins at the same time, shocking the trio immensely.

Harry blinked at them and then asked quietly, “You don’t believe him?”

“Nope.”

“Not a chance.”

“Harry Potter is no Heir of Slytherin, no matter what shape scar is on his forehead or who is father is. Besides, Professor Snape’s been downright decent lately.”

The trio continued to stare and the twins just beamed at them. “If you need any help, you know where to find us, Hermione.”

***

The next day dawned bright. It was a Saturday.

It was the day of the first Quidditch game between the Slytherins and the Gryffindors.

Harry couldn’t find it in him to eat anything, despite Draco piling it on his plate, Hermione’s nagging glances from across the hall and his father’s stern stare at him. He couldn’t sleep the night before as the haunting words had swished all around him during the late hours.

He couldn’t help but shake the feeling that something like that that had happened on Halloween would happen again. Only this time it could be worse. Something bad was going to happen and it hung over Harry’s head like a personal raincloud.

Sighing, Harry got up to follow the team out to the field early. Marcus Flint – a decent boy for all it was worth – rubbed his hand in Harry’s already messy hair. He offered the boy a small smile and Draco was happy to see Harry relax a bit. Apparently, Flint was used to Harry’s somber moods.

Harry flew high over the pitch before the game, not really bothering to practice his swooping and diving. He moved in lazy circles and watched the people pour into the stadium. He saw his father and Draco and Hermione move to sit in the teachers’ booth. Harry grinned when McGonagall took a seat leaving the only available one next to Severus for Lockhart. He grinned wider when he realized that Lockhart planned to stand the entire game rather than sit next to Snape.

Soon the game started and Harry’s mind began to ease. He heard a whoosh come near him and dodged just in time to avoid a bludger. He watched as it sailed off to the edge of the field.

And then, turned and headed straight for him again.

Harry yelped and took off flying across the pitch as fast as his broom could go. He weaved expertly between the red and green clad players and yet the bludger stayed on his tail.

He vaguely heard the crowd, not seeing them stand on their feet watching him. The Gryffindor seeker seemed to think that Harry had found the snitch but came up short when he saw what was happening.

Then in split second, Harry did see the snitch.

He raced after it, arm outstretched. He looked back to see that the bludger was gone and the other seeker was following him but many feet away. He grinned as his hand closed around the snitch.

Then, the bludger slammed into his still extended arm. He could feel and hear the snap of bone. Gagging, he lost control of his broom and plunged face forward into the pitch. Rolling and tucking his arm against him, Harry avoided the bludger again. He kept rolling and dodging, quickly loosing strength and getting nauseous from the pain in his arm. Just as he was about to give up, the bludger exploded in a cloud of shimmering dust.

Rolling over onto his side, he stared out but quickly shut his eyes as the world swam in front of him. He was aware of his father’s scent as the man gently sat him up. Harry gagged again but nothing came up. He hissed as Severus took his arm, examining it.

“Shattered I expect,” he muttered and Harry whimpered in response.

“It’ll be fine, Harry.” Severus made to rise and slowly pulled Harry onto his feet. The boy swayed a bit but was otherwise steady. “We need to get you to Poppy.”

They began to walk toward the stadium entrance when he heard Hermione screaming Draco’s name. He sickly pulled Snape in the direction of her voice but stared numbly as the scene came into view.

“What in Merlin’s–!” began Severus but he was cut off by Hermione going into the scuffle. She barely avoided a flying fist as she pulled Draco off of the other boy. Harry grinned weakly when he saw Zabini’s busted nose.

Gripping Draco by the back of his robes and an arm around Harry’s shoulders he led – or pulled in Draco’s case – the two boys toward the castle. Hermione ran after them.