“We can’t go to class now! Not after all this crazy crap we've been through. Why hasn’t Dumbledore canceled classes?”

“Ron—”

“I have to agree with Weasley – hey, don’t faint on me now, Weasley – I believe we should have a few days off. This whole thing is unacceptable. And a number of students have to stay here under observation and recovery. It would be best to suspend school for a few days, a week being ideal. I doubt the hag will allow it, however.”

“Umbridge would never agree to it, you’re right.” There was an exasperated huff. “I hate her! I can’t believe a teacher would do this.”

“Hermione, you can’t really put her in the same category as a regular teacher…”

Harry slowly woke to the nearby voices. He blinked, light flooding his vision. He tried to move and couldn’t stop the moan of pain from escaping his lips. There was a sharp intake of breath and a pair of voices cried his name. A second later, a mane of bushy brown hair assaulted his face. Harry sucked in his breath, his muscles screaming at the contact.

“Oh, Harry, you’re awake! Thank goodness!” cried Hermione, her voice loud in his ears. “We were so worried about you!”

“Merlin, Granger, do you want to kill him?”

“I think you’re crushing him, Hermione.”

“Yes,” gasped Harry, wincing in pain.

Hermione pulled back, her tear filled eyes wide in anxiousness. “I’m so sorry, Harry,” she cried, guilt in her expression. “Are you all right?” She gave him a critical look.

“Fine,” whispered Harry with a smile. He glanced between the three of them. “How’re you guys?”

It was such a strange sight. Ron and Hermione were standing there next to Draco, as if they always had been friends – as if he were always meant to be at their sides. Though Draco did seem a little standoffish, there wasn’t much awkwardness between them. For a moment, Harry couldn’t understand for the life of him why Draco would be standing there with them. Yet there was a hint of worry in those silver eyes.

Something in Harry’s heart couldn’t be angry with Draco. Yes, it had been his fault that Harry and Snape had gotten stuck together – without their permission. It was easy to lay the blame on the other boy. He had cast the spell that had effectively changed everything.

But it hadn’t been negative. It did exactly that – that single spell changed everything. It had altered their course and, in Harry’s mind, it had been for the better. The animosity that had once flourished between Harry and Snape was gone, replaced with a sprout of tentative amity. Now they only needed time to let such friendship to grow into something more – a family.

If Snape was serious about the adoption…

Maybe… things weren’t changing for the worst, after all.

Maybe… Harry’s answer had always been yes.

“All right there, Potter?” asked Draco, shifting his weight. He lifted his chin, a gleam entered his eye. “There was a chance you were going to deprive the Wizarding World of its Golden Boy.”

What?

“Was it really that bad?” asked Harry, glancing between them. “Snape mentioned that I was poisoned, in a way, but… He didn’t really have time to explain it.”

More like the conversation strayed to a completely different topic.

“You were in a bad way, Potter,” said Draco with a shake of the head. “I… I’ve never seen Professor Snape look like that. Mustn’t forget the fact that you’re not the only one suffering, but you were definitely the worst one off here.”

Harry turned his head to his left. There was someone in the next bed, but he couldn’t tell who it was. He looked to Hermione, who bent a little lower, casting a quick glance at the other bed.

“That’s Selina Moore,” whispered Hermione. “She’s a third year Slytherin. She’s a half blood and was in detention with Umbridge at least two to three times, probably more. The quill is affecting her more than the others. We’re not sure why she was in detention, besides what her lines say.” Her lips thinned for a moment, before she continued, “I must not shame my house.”

Harry looked back at the bed with the girl. He could see the blankets rise and settle with her breathing. He caught a glimpse of brown hair. He couldn’t help but feel sorry for the girl. He hadn’t met the girl. He could’ve passed her in the halls and never known it – and since she wore green, he would’ve ignored her or regarded her with suspicion.

After his experience with Snape, Harry couldn’t stop the wave of shame that he had for himself. The desire to burn the sorting hat rose inside his chest. The division of the school was embedded within the school’s very foundation. What had the hat said at the start of the term? ‘We must unite inside her or we'll crumble from within.’

How in Merlin’s name were they supposed to unite, if every year they started divided? It didn’t make sense. Even their robes were colored to show who belonged to what house. The emblem showed to whom they belonged. Instead of making friends of all personalities and backgrounds, they were forced to befriend those were like them and had similar desires.

It was wrong and they had to do something.

Voldemort could easily slip through the gaps and warp the hearts of those who had been treated poorly during all these years.

“Any news about Umbridge?” asked Harry, growing serious. Three pairs of eyes flicked between one another. Well, that couldn’t be good. “What?” he asked. “What’s going on?”

Hermione shook her head. “We’re not sure. It’s like she doesn’t know that nearly a fourth of the students are in the hospital wing. Although, Madam Pomfrey said that the majority of them will be able to leave tomorrow, once they’re sure that the quill hasn’t affected their magic.”

“Who has to stay longer?” asked Harry, his eyebrows furrowing. Hermione gave him a pointed look. “Besides me,” he added with a huff.

“Lovegood has a fever,” said Draco, jerking his head to the side. The bottom of Harry’s stomach fell. His head whipped to the side. On his other side, in the next bed, he could see the familiar blonde hair. She was asleep in the other bed, with her back turned to him. Furious at the injustice, he looked back at his friends.

“What the heck could she have done wrong to bother Umbridge?” demanded Harry. “She’s always nice.”

Hermione bit her lip. Draco looked away; his jaw tightened. Ron was the one who spoke up.

“Seems like Umbridge got her twice, but with two different lines.”

“What are they?”

“You sure want to hear them?” asked Ron, lifting an eyebrow. “They’re really—”

“Tell me.”

An irritated expression entered Ron’s face. “I must not be a dreamer – and – I must not proselytize to others about my false notions.”

Harry sucked in his breath. He closed his eyes. It was like Umbridge knew exactly where it would hurt the most. She wasn’t just making them write lines with their blood, she was carving her lies into their very hearts. She had gotten gentle Luna right in her heart. Luna was a dreamer. Luna was in her own little world, whether for emotional safety or born like that from day one – the lies branded into her skin and heart were telling her to stop being herself.

Harry opened his eyes. The other were looking down at him, each confused by his reaction. Harry lifted his arm and flexed his hand. The veins in his hand were darker than normal. The words I must not tell lies were stark against his skin. She had done the same thing with him, telling him to ignore the reason why he had no family – ignore the man who had destroyed everything dear to him.

Lie and ignore.

Let others die.

Harry drew his fingers into a fist. “We can’t let her get away with this.”

“About that, we’ve been talking about what to do with the hag,” said Draco with a smirk. “Any suggestions, Potter?”

“Lots, but it’ll have to wait until I get out of here,” said Harry with an annoyed wave of the hand. There was a pause. He drew in a breath. “And call me Harry.”

Draco’s eyebrows bolted up. Hermione smiled softly, glancing back at the other boy. Ron looked at him as well, giving Draco an appraising look. Draco appeared to grow uncomfortable.

“You played chess with Ron, right?” asked Harry, lowering his arm to his side. “That’s worthy of first name basis. Right, Ron?”

“Hey, how’d you know that?” asked Ron, his head whipping back to look at Harry. His face reddened. “We weren’t, really… It was just to pass the time.”

“I woke up in the middle of the night. I saw the chess board. Besides, you could’ve passed the time by hexing each other, but you didn’t.”

“I knew we should’ve ended that last game,” muttered Draco.

“Why, because you were losing?” asked Ron with a grin.

“You wish, Weasl—”

“Ron.”

Draco stopped short, his mouth open for a brief moment, before he shut it closed. He swallowed.

Hermione smiled brightly. “And call me Hermione,” she said. “We’re prefects, anyway. Harry’s right. We should all be on a first name basis. Maybe we can get some interhouse unity from this, finally.”

Harry smiled at the dumbfounded look on Draco’s face. They wouldn’t need a spell to force them to get along. Harry was going to make sure that there would be no need for such a spell ever again. They had to be united. Things were going to change around here.

Starting with Umbridge’s head.

“Ah, Mr. Potter, you’re awake,” called a voice. Madam Pomfrey came up behind the group. She motioned to them. “All right, move aside, children. I need to get a look at my patient, if you don’t mind.”

Madam Pomfrey gently pushed them out of the way and hovered over Harry. She placed a hand over his forehead, pausing for a moment.

“Well, you seem a little warm this morning,” said Pomfrey with a displeased clip of her tongue. “But your fever broke last night, so you should be fine. Any pain?”

Harry briefly flicked his eyes towards the group of three who were standing behind Pomfrey. Hermione watched as she wrung her hands together. Harry looked away and swallowed. Thankfully, Pomfrey seemed to catch a hint. She turned around.

“You three, some of the other patients are waking up. Go see if they need anything. Now, shoo. You can visit Mr. Potter later.”

“We’ll talk later, Harry,” said Hermione with a wave.

Harry nodded.

He had some thinking to do.

***

Most of the day had been spent being fussed over by Madam Pomfrey and sleeping, much to Harry’s chagrin. When he woke that night, most of his muscle pain had faded to a dull throb. Unfortunately, he was wide awake now with no hope of falling back asleep. Thus, he took that time to think about what they needed to do. They probably couldn’t accomplish much while Umbridge still had some power over the school as the High Inquisitor.

Booting her out of the school was obviously at the top of the list.

But what Hermione had said got a new bug inside his head. They needed more interhouse unity. But how could they go about that? Hogwarts was so entrenched in ancient traditions, it would be nearly impossible to overwrite some of them without a fight. But they couldn’t go on like this. Maybe Umbridge had been right in a way. Some traditions needed to be done away with, while new ones needed to be put in place.

Maybe they could do that on their own.

Harry’s thoughts were interrupted when he noticed movement in a neighboring bed. He turned his head to see that Luna was stirring awake. His heart clenched as he remembered her lines. She turned in her bed, facing his bed. Harry couldn’t stop himself from turning onto his side to face her better. She opened her eyes.

It was worth seeing her bright smile.

“Oh, Harry, you’re awake. How lovely.”

“So are you,” said Harry with a low chuckle. “You had a fever. How’re you feeling?”

“Not too horrible,” said Luna, smiling at him. “It seems that my fever broke. I feel much better than I did earlier. I don’t think the quill will affect my magic.”

“It can affect your magic?” asked Harry, horrified at the thought.

Luna nodded sagely, her long hair rubbing against her pillow.

“Oh, yes. It can cause some rather drastic changes. Whether for good or for bad.”

“And she…”

And she had used it on so many students. What was she trying to do, create an entire generation of squibs?

“It doesn’t always cause problems,” whispered Luna. “Or so I’ve read. It might’ve made your magic stronger. Or it might’ve made it weaker. You’ll just have to wait and see.”

Well, that was comforting.

Luna smiled, seeming to understand his feelings.

“Don’t worry, Harry. I’m sure it’ll be all right.”

“What about you?” asked Harry. “How’re you doing?”

“Oh, I’m fine—”

“That’s not what I meant,” said Harry, interrupting with a firm air. Luna tilted her head against her pillow; her eyebrows furrowed. “I know what Umbridge forced you to write. Are you all right?”

Her eyes glistened. The color brightened. Her lips thinned.

“What someone believes should always remain their right,” whispered Luna. Her gaze slid away. “I know I’m different. I know the other girls in my year don’t like me. But I rather be myself. I rather happy to be myself. Don’t you think so, Harry?”

“Yes,” whispered Harry.

A tear slipped down Luna’s cheek. “Still,” she continued in that soft airy voice. “Sometimes… It hurts to be alone.”

Harry’s hand moved. He reached across the gap between the two beds. Luna looked up, her eyes widening slightly. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to: after a moment, she completed the gap. Her fingers intertwined with his, the warmth of her hand blending with his warmth.

“Thank you,” whispered Luna. “For being my friend.”

“Thanks for being mine,” said Harry softly. “You knew what to say when I didn’t know what to do about Snape. You really helped me out.”

“I’m glad.”

There was a pause. Harry’s arm grew tired from reaching over, but he didn’t want to break the contact. Her hand wasn’t loose, either – which made a great excuse to keep holding her hand.

“Snape wants to adopt me,” whispered Harry.

“Oh, Harry, that’s wonderful!” said Luna in a cheerful whisper. She squeezed his hand. “I’m so happy for you.”

“You think I should go through with it?”

“What do you think?” asked Luna, tilting her head. In her light voice, she continued, “Do you want to be Professor Snape’s son? Do you want to wake up in his home every day? Do you want to eat breakfast together? Lunch? Dinner? Do you want to spend time together, as a family? Do you want to tell him about what makes you happy, sad, or scared?”

For a long moment, Harry thought about it. There was only one answer.

“Yes.”

“Then, congratulations: it’s a boy.”

Harry let out a low chuckle. He tightened his hold on her hand, ignoring the exhaustion in his arm now. They fell back into pleasant silence.

“Don’t think about Umbridge’s lies, all right, Luna?” whispered Harry after some time. “She’s not going to get away with this.”

“Oh, dear. That sounds like the start of something,” said Luna with a blithe smile. “You’ll get in trouble.”

“I know. But since when has that ever stopped me?”