h

Wood Unworthy

The castle buzzed like a hornet's nest in the days following Pettigrew's botched attack on Gryffindor Tower. Rumors swirled that he had Apparated into the school—which was rubbish—or that he had snuck in—which was a deal more reasonable. In fact, Harry had strong doubts that the Dementors were stopping to interrogate each and every rat that went in and out of the school's boundaries. But since the appropriate authorities knew about that (Lily had had the Marauders sans Remus register their Animagi forms shortly after Voldemort's attack), he kept his doubts to himself.

But soon enough those concerns faded to the background, as the Quidditch season was fast-approaching. Only a few weeks after Halloween, the first game was set between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw.

The morning of the match dawned angry and overcast. The early cold front had retreated, and the snow had turned to rain. Harry kept his run short and brisk that morning, took a hot shower, and meditated for a good long time before anyone else got up. He went down to breakfast with Roderick and Delf when they appeared. They ate quietly, speaking only ask for the bacon or milk to be passed. Harry and Roderick weren't particularly looking forward to flying about in the driving rain for however long the game lasted. The rest of the Great Hall was rowdy and excited, however, enthusiasm not the least dampened by the weather. Harry was staring absently into space when he felt a tap on his shoulder, and turned to find Tom behind him. He held a soggy bit of parchment in his hand and had Godric Merlin Dumbledore on his shoulder. He also looked remarkably green.

"Mum and Dad are coming," he said. "They wrote. Wanted me to tell you."

"Oh," said Harry. "Nice of them to write ahead this time. That it?"

"Um… actually… if I could talk to you… alone…" His voice was soft enough that Harry had to strain to hear it.

He grabbed an apple and stood up. "Alright." The brothers left the Hall together, and Tom led Harry into a dim alcove off the deserted Entry Hall.

"Harry, I think I'm sick," the younger Potter said quietly. "Really sick."

"How so?" He took a bite of the apple.

"I just… don't feel good. My stomach… I haven't been able to eat for days… I can't play today, I can't even fly. I'll fall for sure."

Harry swallowed apple mush. "You're nervous, that's all. Pre-game jitters. Take a few deep breaths, eat something light, you'll be right as rain." He glanced at a window. "Sort of. You won't fall off your broomstick, at any rate."

"Harry, you don't understand: I'm going to die." His words were half gasp and half plea.

"Tom, I played my first game too once, remember? You think I wasn't nervous? Now, it's a shame about the weather, and that you'll be facing me. But in the scheme of things, it's only a Quidditch game. Keep your goggles on, do your best, and it'll be fine. Alright?" He held out his apple. "Here. Eat this, at least."

Tom looked at the half-eaten fruit distastefully. "No, thanks."

"Then take these." He pulled a couple Chocolate Frogs out of a pocket and handed them over. "Maybe you'll get one of your own cards."

There was about an hour and a half before the game started, so Harry went back to the Tower with Delf and Roderick. They tried to study, but with everyone coming up and patting Harry and Roderick on the back and wishing them luck, that soon proved pointless. They eventually decided to go down to the changing room to get away from everyone. Delf agreed to meet them after the game, and they set off through the rain to the Quidditch pitch. The grass squished noisily under their feet and mud had them slipping around several times, and Harry gave silent thanks that theirs was an air-borne game. Or rain-borne, in this case?

The curtain of blue and bronze canvas was a welcome sight, and Roderick pushed it open ahead of Harry, hurrying to get his broomstick out of the weather. But before Harry could follow him in, he made a startled sound and backed up quickly, nearly sending Harry sprawling in the mud.

"What was that?" he demanded, regaining his balance by using his broom as a crutch. Then he saw Roderick's furious red blush and took a different tone. "What is it?"

"It's, er. We should just, ah… wait out here… for a bit. Nothing to, uh, worry about." Roderick's Malfoy-pale skin made his blush extremely apparent, despite his efforts to compose his expression.

"What's gotten into you? It's practically dumping the ocean on us out here! Let's go in!"

"No!" Roderick's voice was so desperate and shrill that Harry actually stopped. But before he could demand a proper explanation, the canvas curtain twitched aside and Abigail's head popped out. Her colour was nearly as high as Roderick's, and her dark blonde hair was tousled and untidy, a notable departure from her usual neat pony-tail.

"Um, sorry about that. You can come in if you, um, you want to, you know, get out of the rain."

Harry swiftly did just that while Roderick followed more slowly. Chaz, one of their Beaters, stood facing his locker, fiddling with the strap on his goggles. He didn't look up to greet them, but Harry noted a suspicious bruise purpling on the side of this neck and suddenly started to understand Roderick's reaction.

Instead of breaking the awkward silence, Harry set about painstakingly polishing and trimming up his Nimbus 2000, and was still engaged in that activity when Chet and Cho arrived, sopping wet and panting. They had probably run down from the castle.

"Oh, drat," Cho said when she saw Roderick and Harry were already there. "Roger stayed to wait for you. Hopefully he'll think to check your dorm before too long…"

"Roger's smart," Roderick replied blithely. "And even if he thinks we've forgotten, he won't be late."

The tension dissipated with the arrival of the two, and there was banter and joking, and soon the thunder of hundreds of feet pounding up into the high bleachers. Amongst those feet would be Delf's, he knew, and his parents were mixed up somewhere in there as well. Without meaning to, he remembered the last game they had attended, but quickly pressed it back down. This was different. They knew he was playing this time. They had come to see their sons play Quidditch against each other, not make sure one of them kept himself out of trouble while the other won the game.

Roger arrived just minutes before the game started and was briefly cross with Harry and Roderick before Abigail gave her short pep-talk and they headed out into the driving rain. Harry had to stifle a grin when he saw Tom across the mid-pitch line, looking like he thought being dead was a viable alternative to his current situation. Abigail and Oliver shook hands, and Madam Hooch's whistle rang out shrill amid the rolling thunder. Harry kicked off and quickly assumed his usual counter-clockwise loop far above the game.

There was quickly a problem. Harry had known Tom was insecure about his first match. But honestly, it was a bit much for him to follow just a meter behind Harry, matching him speed for speed and everything.

"Tom!" he shouted over the howling wind. "TOM!" He slowed just enough to fly abreast of his brother. "You're supposed to be looking for the Snitch, not following me!"

"But you'll see it first!" Tom bellowed back.

Harry nearly laughed. Below them, Cho scored on Oliver and the Ravenclaws cheered. "Maybe not! Besides, tailing me looks bad. Nothing's going to happen soon with this weather, trust me."

Tom didn't reply, so Harry soared off to the other end of the pitch and resumed his circuit. Ravenclaw scored again, then Gryffindor got three in a row, then Ravenclaw got one, but Madam Hooch called a haversacking foul on Roger and Gryffindor got a penalty. Abigail saved it, but it put the team off its stride and Gryffindor got another four goals right away.

Seventy to thirty was not a score Harry cared for, so he redoubled his efforts to find the Snitch. Each team scored once more before the tiny glint of gold finally caught his eye. It was lurking over by the Gryffindor goal hoops. Taking care to look nonchalant, he barely sped up as he rounded the corner, but when he was just a few meters away, the Snitch seemed to sense him coming and zoomed off. Cursing under his breath, he followed, weaving between other players and the spectator towers. Tom noticed and Harry heard him shouting. It sounded like he was telling either his brother or the Snitch to slow down, but that was hardly about to happen. Worsening matters was the fact that the temperature seemed to have dropped several degrees in a matter of moments, and the soaking rain was now closer to sleet. Harry cursed again and hunched lower over his broom. The Snitch flitted to and fro, but Harry was gaining, it was just out of his reach…

But all of a sudden his gorge rose in his throat, and Tom made a horrible croaking noise behind him and he knew it wasn't a natural cold that had hit them just before: it was Dementors. He whipped his head around, trying to see where they were. The Snitch swerved in and upwards, spiraling higher and higher over the pitch and Harry followed doggedly. The aching cold and lightheadedness were becoming worse the further he went, but he nearly had the Snitch, he nearly had it…

Something dark swept across the sky and Harry's vision went dim and shivery. He fought to focus, the Snitch still dancing just beyond the tips of his outreached fingers. Another dark figure sailed past him, and his insides went numb. From far away, a high, cruel voice shouted "Move aside!" Something tickled his fingers, and he grabbed wildly as he felt himself slip away from his broomstick, from the rain, from the sudden searing pain in his little crooked scar…

"No, not the boys!" his grandmother pleaded.

"Adveda kadevra!"

A rumpling thump.

Then something he hadn't heard before: a young child, a boy piped up, "You can't have my brother, baddie!" It was Harry, at age 3.

"How touching. A little warrior child," said the silken voice. "I'll just have to kill the older brother first. Avada kadevra!"

A flash of green swallowed him like a yawn.

-o-

A complete thought ran across the blank surface of his mind as soon as he was conscious: I am the Boy Who Lived.

His next thought was, But I don't want to be The Boy Who Lived.

The next, I'm hungry.

One of those must have provoked some accidental noise on his part, because a woman's voice said "He's awake." There was a sudden murmur of voices and someone touched his shoulder.

"Harry?" It was Delf, sounding unusually tentative.

"Mmmmuh."

"Speak clearly if you're awake," she said snippily. Ok, back to normal.

"How are you feeling, sweetheart?" His mum's voice.

He coughed to clear his throat, then grumbled out, "What happened?" At this point it felt appropriate to look at what was going on. His eyelids felt sticky and numbish, and his vision was blurry for a moment, but the scene soon resolved itself into one of uncomfortable familiarity. He was in the Hospital Wing—again—and there was a crowd of people around his bed, starting with his parents, Delf and Roderick, and most of the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw Quidditch teams. He tipped his head and saw Tom in the bed next to his, sitting up and spooning warm custard into his mouth. Ron and Hermione were in chairs on the far side of his bed. He had a red welt above his left eye and wouldn't meet Harry's gaze, but otherwise looked fine.

"You both fainted," Fred said matter-of-factly.

"The Dementors came," George corroborated.

"But you still won!" Chet added excitedly, and Harry grinned. Oliver snorted and crossed his arms. "You just snatched it, right as you fell, and—"

"Basically," Delf cut in, "you're in the Hospital Wing again, because you fell off your broomstick again, and nearly scared me to death again. You need to stop doing that."

"Sorry," Harry replied. Her eyes were that rare inexplicable pitch black. "It wasn't quite my fault though. Aren't the Dementors forbidden from entering school grounds?"

"Yes," James said darkly. "I'll be having words with Fudge about this, trust me."

"Dumbledore's telling them off right now," Roderick elaborated. "I don't think I've ever seen him so furious, even after the Forest incident."

Harry grinned a bit at the twins' protests while Lily and James exchanged confused glances. But then he noticed something strange: Tom's Firebolt leaned against the end of its owner's bed, but Harry's Nimbus was absent.

"Where's my broom?" he asked, more curious than anything.

His teammates exchanged glances, and Abigail stepped out from behind Chaz and Roger. In her arms was a short tube of burlap with some splinters poking out of each end. Harry's heart sank.

"We're really sorry, Harry," she said quietly, laying it at the foot of his bed. "We were so concerned about you that it didn't occur to us to look until just a little while ago. Your broomstick, it hit the Whomping Willow, and with Willow, um… whomped it." She folded the burlap back to reveal a small pile of shattered wood. The longest splinter read 'imbus 2' along the side, but besides that, there was only a tangle of bristle-sticks, which had been so perfectly groomed only that morning.

"We're really sorry, mate," Roderick told him awkwardly.

"Well…" He fought for something positive to say, to put a good face on. "Figures it was my broom and not Tom's, doesn't it?"

"'Ey!" Tom protested, slightly hampered by his mouthful of custard. "Mine went in the Lake! It's lucky the squid didn't eat it or something!"

"No," said Roderick wryly. "It just handed it out to Madam Hooch when she asked nicely." Tom flushed sullenly.

Madam Pomfrey bustled up before anyone could say aught else, and ushered most of the crowd out of the Hospital Wing. Delf, Roderick, Ron, Hermione and their parents were allowed to stay, but Harry swiftly grew tired again and fell asleep in the midst of the uncomfortable small talk being exchanged.

-o-

When he woke again, he was alone with Tom, who was sitting up in his bed staring into blue nothing.

"How long was I asleep?" he asked, propping himself up on an elbow and reaching for the water pitcher and a cup.

Tom started violently. "Merlin, Harry!" He settled his glasses back in place. "Nearly on forty minutes, I think. Mum and Dad went to talk to Dumbledore, and the others left a little after that when Madam Pomfrey wouldn't led your girl friend wake you back up."

"She's not—"

"No, I mean girl–friend, not girlfriend. Calm down."

They sat in silence for a short while as Harry sipped his water.

"Harry, when we… when we fell, did you hear anything?"

Harry glanced at him sharply, but Tom's eyes were fixed on his knotted fingers. That was something he hadn't considered. Had Tom heard the same thing as Harry? Or just part of it? Being the Boy Who Lived was the cornerstone of his identity. Having that stripped away would be like… no, he didn't have anything comparable. Perhaps if he rolled being the Seeker, a Ravenclaw, and a Potter all together, that would be similar. Harry was accustomed to being nothing more than himself, but Tom's world was built around having a larger public character. It shored him up and gave him strength and surety. What would it do to him to lose it?

"Like what?" he hedged carefully.

"Oh, um, you know…" Tom's hazel eyes darted to and fro like nervous birds. The poor boy was a horrible liar. "Nothing really. Maybe voices. Maybe just, um. Nothing."

So he'd definitely heard something. But if he hadn't heard the entire thing, like the piece Harry had heard on the train, there was no need to enlighten him about the rest. The best thing would be to play innocent. "No, I didn't hear anything," he replied smoothly. "Finally cracked under the pressure of playing a far superior Seeker, did you?"

"No!" Tom exclaimed hotly, his previous anxiety evaporating. "It was the damned Dementors, Harry, they're pulling up old—that is… I'm not crazy, alright? Shut up."

Harry grinned to himself, happy to have averted Tom's identity crisis. Madam Pomfrey discharged them both a quarter of an hour later and they were in time for dinner. Harry was not looking forward to what the rumor mill would cook up about their repeat double-swoon, but he was more anxious about the conversation he was going to have to have with Delf and Roderick. The things he had heard were too big and too important to keep from his best friends.

They met up in the common room at midnight. It was nearly deserted, and silent as Ms. Pince could have wished for. A small group of fourth years hunched over some books by the statue of Rowena Ravenclaw, and two seventh years dozed by the fire under the boy's dorms, so Harry, Delf and Roderick took the alcove under the girls' ones.

"So?" said Roderick as soon as they were settled. "You've looked a bit wild about the edges all afternoon."

"You saw how far he fell," Delf snapped. She was nestled close next to him on the sofa, while Roderick took the armchair at a right angle to them. "I'm wondering why he doesn't look worse."

"Thank you for the backhanded concern," Harry said dryly. "But I actually feel fine."

"Then what's the cloak and daggers business?" Roderick asked. "It's always 'meet me at the place at midnight' with us these days." He made his voice low and gravelly, and Harry chuckled.

"What I have to tell you is going to sound a little mental," he warned.

"Harry, two years ago, you said You Know Who said you were meant to be the Boy Who Lived. Nothing will top that," Delf said flatly.

That brought him up short. "That's right, I did say that. Well, it's true, what he told me. I know it always seemed to make sense, and I did believe it in an emotional way, but now I know it for certain."

Delf went tense as a startled cat and Roderick was struck mute, an unusual state for him.

"I told you I had hoped he was just trying to put me off, but, um. He wasn't. I heard things—I hear things when I get too close to Dementors. On the train, I heard You Know Who kill Grandma Potter."

Roderick's mouth fell open, and he felt Delf's fingers tighten on his arm.

"Just today, when I fell off my broom, I heard right after that, and I, um… tried to stop him from getting to Tom."

Roderick did something part groan, part sigh and part laugh. "You would, wouldn't you…"

"Wait, you were… what, three and a half?" Delf protested. "How could you have done anything?"

"I quote: 'You can't have my brother, baddie!' And then he said I was a little child warrior and he would just have to kill me first."

They shared a silence born of immediate shock and slow horror.

"Don't you dare say that so casually," Delf said in a low voice. "You've nearly died enough that you should at least take it seriously."

"Maybe so," Harry agreed. "But this was a dozen years ago, and I didn't even remember it till now. I still don't, really. I just know it must have happened. And Tom knows at least part of it. He may as well have asked 'are you the Boy Who Lived now?' back in the Hospital Wing. I told him I didn't hear anything though. Can you imagine what he'd do without that part of himself?" He shook his head.

"Die," Delf said promptly.

Roderick laughed. "Well," he said, slapping one of the arms of his chair. "Our friendship has finally paid off. Now I can stop pretending to like you two and go tell Father everything you've just said."

Harry stared at him for a second, then burst out laughing, and Roderick joined in a moment later. "I don't know where you got this knack of breaking tension, but please keep it."

The conversation took a less world-shaking turn after that, and they unanimously agreed that broadcasting Harry's revelation would be one of the two stupidest things he'd ever done. (Delf said the first stupidest thing was take up flying, while Roderick claimed it was getting involved with Kelly.)

He was so concerned with his reclaimed piece of personal history that almost a month passed before he circled back to a more immediate problem: he couldn't keep fainting every time he got within spitting space of a Dementor. The problem boggled him for a solid day before he remembered something Master Jerome had told them a summer or two ago: something called the Patronus Charm.

So that Friday after Defense, Harry stayed behind as the rest of the class filed out.

"Hello, Harry," Remus said when everyone else was gone. "What can I do for you?"

"Do you know the Patronus Charm?"

Remus looked startled. "I do. I'm a little surprised you do, however."

"I only know of it. I want to learn it, properly. I can't keep passing out whenever I'm near a Dementor. I expect Tom would like to learn this too, but I haven't talked to him about it."

"The Patronus is a very advanced magic, Harry," Remus said doubtfully. "It's usually not even on the N.E.W.T. curriculum."

"I still want to try. I can't go falling off my broomstick again, and I don't want to stay trapped in the school until Pettigrew's caught. Would you at least try to teach us?"

"Certainly." He gave a gentle smile. "I only wanted you to know what you were getting into. To be honest, I had thought of bringing it up to you two, but you've beaten me to it. Let's say we'll start lessons after Christmas holiday, alright?"

"Perfect. Thank you. I'll tell Tom tonight at supper."

"You do that. Have a good weekend."

"Thanks, professor." He grinned at Remus, who rolled his eyes and waved him out. There was over half an hour till supper started, so he hurried back to Ravenclaw Tower, thinking if there was any homework he and Delf and Roderick could accomplish before the meal.

But any idea of studying flew right out of his head when he (finally) riddled his way past the eagle knocker. As soon as the door was open, a pair of female voices assaulted him with such volume that he nearly dropped his books to cover his ears.

He edged into the room, hoping to sidle up the stairs to his dorm without drawing the ire of whoever was arguing. But once he was properly into the room, he realized why that wouldn't be possible: the two opponents were Delf and Kelly.

"…if you knew a damn thing about what it means to be attractive! 'Here! Look at my breasts! Aren't they amazing?' Ugly slag!" That was Delf. The two of them were by the girls' stairs, fists clenched, color high. Several other Ravenclaw students were scattered around the common room, casting each other shocked and uncomfortable glances. All of this Harry saw in the split second before Kelly started shouting back.

"Oh, I think I know a good deal more than you when it comes to getting boys. Do you really think that friendship ever leads to love? You've read too many bad novels. You're like a little pet, Delf."

"You—" Delf hissed, but just then Kelly happened to glance towards Harry and unceremoniously cut her off.

"Ha–rryyyy!" she cooed, and sashayed across the floor to where he stood. Delf's head had jerked around at Kelly's exclamation, and he saw with some alarm that her eyes were burning orange, hot enough to spit sparks, brighter than a Weasley's hair. But as Kelly came up behind him and slid her arms around his chest and pressed her aforementioned breasts up against his back, Delf's eyes faded from orange to black in less time than it takes to take a breath.

"What's going on?" he asked, making a move to disentangle himself.

Kelly tightened her grip on him and murmured in his ear, "We just had a little misunderstanding. Nothing to worry about, wouldn't you say, Daphne?"

There was something in Kelly's tone that made the hair on his neck stand up, but Delf made no indication of disagreement. Instead, she sneered at the both of them and stalked past to the door.

"Where are you going?" Harry asked, concerned.

"To find Tracey," she snarled, and slammed the door.

"I really don't know what got into her," Kelly said after a moment, sighing heavily. "Some people are just dramatic, I suppose."

Harry didn't see Delf again that day, and when she appeared the next morning at breakfast she made no mention of her previous temper. Taking her lead, Harry didn't bring it up either, and he believed it largely due to that that the next few days passed so quietly.

The lull maintained itself for a whole ten days actually. And for once, it wasn't Tom who broke it (in fact, the younger Potter was being remarkably quiet. Harry couldn't help but think he was trying to avoid attention for fear of it somehow bringing out what he'd heard from the Dementors. He even went so far as to thank Harry politely for setting up their lessons with Remus).

This new trouble started quite quietly. It was a dim snowy Sunday early in December, and Harry and Roderick were on their way back to the castle after Quidditch practice. Harry hadn't been able to do anything, obviously, but he'd gone down anyway because not doing so would have felt far too weird. They didn't have another game till after the holiday, so it wasn't a major problem for Harry to be missing his broom. And Abigail trusted his skills enough to let him miss participating in a few practices.

They bid their teammates farewell as the others went up the marble stairs to dry off and change before supper and last-second homework. Harry and Roderick would do that too, of course. But Delf always met them in the Great Hall after practice, so they went to find her first.

But she wasn't there. She always perched at the very end of one of the Ravenclaw benches, usually with a book and look of focused boredom. Her absence was passing strange.

"She been eaten by Fang," Roderick said gravely.

"Pfft. She probably got bored. We did get out late. Let's go up to the common room."

"Right-o. I'm freezing, personally."

They trekked up through the castle, getting mildly lost at one point because a staircase shifted while they were on it. But when they finally got there, the common room yielded no results either.

Harry frowned at the lack of Delf. "Could she be in the Library?" he wondered aloud.

"I suppose," Roderick replied dubiously. "But somehow I don't think so. Do you know what I think?"

"No. Tell me."

"You have a certain piece of parchment upstairs that will answer this question for us."

Harry chortled. "You're perfectly correct. Come on."

Andrew was the only one in their dormitory, and he was asleep. They crept about as quietly as possible, Roderick putting his broom and warm things away while Harry dug the Marauder's Map out of the secret compartment in the bottom of his trunk. "I solemnly swear I'm up to no good," he murmured, and the careful diagrams unfurled across the pages. "Not in the Library after all," he reported. "Or in her dorm, or in any of her and Tracey's usual spots…"

"Wait, there she is," Roderick said, pointing. "Just on the second storey. We went right past that room coming up here."

"With stupid Oliver, of course…" Harry grumbled. The two little dots were suspiciously close together.

"There's only one thing to do about that, I'd say." Roderick drew out his wand. "Mischief managed." Hogwarts disappeared from the Map, and Harry tucked it into his pocket.

The castle was cool and quiet. It was Sunday afternoon, so most everyone was tucked away with the weekend's homework. Snow had been falling gently for the past few hours, adding to little puffs on window sills and drifts outside. They retraced their steps back down to the second floor and made their way towards the room the Map had marked. As they turned the corner, Harry heard the sound of muffled voices, shouting. He and Roderick frowned at each other and hurried forward.

"…ice-queen with everyone who's not Harry!" a male voice shouted. Oliver.

Delf's response was indistinct, but it sounded angry and defensive.

"Oh, as if!" Oliver exploded. "Are you a little girl? There's nothing wrong with a little fun."

The door of the classroom they were in made no noise as it swung open. By the time it crashed against the far wall, Harry was halfway across the room, making a bee-line for Oliver. Later on, he didn't quite remember putting his hands around Oliver's throat. The burly Keeper had size and strength to his advantage, but Harry had speed and the element of surprise, and managed to get two good punches in before Oliver even knew what was happening. It seemed like a lot of people were shouting, but he paid less than no attention to what they were saying. The last thing he heard properly was Delf shrieking, "Stop it, stop it, you'll be hurt!" and then his world shrank to Oliver and putting as many bruises on his body as possible.

But after quite a short time (or so it felt to Harry), someone grabbed at his shoulders and yanked him backwards, and he stumbled away. His ears were ringing and his vision was oddly blurry, so it took a moment for him to recognize that Remus was restraining Oliver a short distance away. Delf was crying near the door, and Harry deduced it was Roderick who had pulled him away. Given half a chance to examine his handiwork, he decided he was satisfied. Even though he could feel a bruise forming along the right side of his jaw, and his opposite shoulder felt a little weird, Oliver's nose was bleeding, his eye was swollen, and he was panting hard, all of which counted as good things just then.

Sounds came back after. Oliver was blaring a string of very creative swear words, Roderick was yelling for him to shut up and for Harry to calm down, Lupin pretty much the same, and Delf was telling Roderick to let go of him. Then he came to the strange realization that he himself was yelling without knowing it.

"You do not speak to women like that! You do not speak to Delf like that! Monster! Pervert! Worm!"

"It's none of your business how I speak to her! I'm allowed to try and convince the frigid bint to give it up, aren't I?"

"Roderick, let me go. He's not coming out of the Hospital Wing for the next year and a half."

"Leave some for me," Roderick growled, releasing Harry and rolling his sleeves up.

"Boys! Boys!" Remus shouted, moving to stand between Oliver and Harry and Roderick. "There will be no more fighting."

"Like hell!" Harry retorted. "You heard what he said. He deserves all I can do and worse."

"Harry, calm yourself. I want to hear everything that happened, at once. Miss Greengrass, why don't you begin and give the boys a chance to settle down."

There was a lot of shouting over the next half hour. Delf accused Oliver of making unwelcome and aggressive advances, which he loudly denied and Harry and Roderick loudly supported. Then came the "unprovoked" attack on Harry's part, which was three headaches rolled into one. ("Just look at my nose!" Oliver shouted. "I didn't deserve this!") In the end, Oliver lost fifty points and Harry lost ten and got his first ever detention. No one left satisfied, which probably meant it was the best solution, but Harry was seething as he and Delf and Roderick returned to Ravenclaw Tower, and he vowed he wouldn't let Delf out of his sight until the end of the year.

The next day, Godric Merlin Dumbledore dropped a letter into the toast rack next to his orange juice.

"Perfect," he grumbled, examining the handwriting. "Remus wrote to Mum and Dad."

"Oh no, have I gotten you in trouble?" Delf asked concernedly, her eyes an incongruous gold.

"At least it's not a Howler again," Roderick pointed out.

"Tom was the one responsible for the Howler," he said, ripping the envelope open. "Uncle Remus is a little more level headed than my brother, you may have noticed." He scanned the letter as his friends chortled across the table. It was actually quite sane and non-accusatory, which was refreshing. His mother was concerned and hoped this wasn't going to become a pattern for him. His dad was concerned as well, but Harry detected a faint note of pride running through the words too.

"Quill please," he said as he dipped a spoon into Delf's cup of milk. Roderick produced a rumpled specimen from an inner pocket and handed it across as Harry drew his wand and quickly transfigured the milk in the spoon into ink.

Dear Mum and Dad, he wrote. If Moony hadn't showed up, I probably would have killed him. I'm not sorry.

-Harry

"That wasn't what I hoped our letter would accomplish…" James muttered when Godric Merlin Dumbledore brought the parchment back that evening.

"I definitely would have felt better not knowing that," Lily agreed. Another owl landed at the kitchen window sill and tapped at the glass till Tipsy let it in. "That'll be Tom, I imagine."

Dear Mum and Dad,

"Correct."

Since our scare at the Quidditch game you came to, where Harry and I fell off our brooms

Lily shuddered. "I never want to see anything like that ever again. I have half a mind to pull them both off the teams."

(I still can't believe he caught the Snitch while falling in thin air. It just shouldn't be allowed),

"Merlin, that was an amazing move. But terrifying, of course," James added as Lily shot him a look.

Harry asked Uncle Remus to give us both special lessons on how to do this charm that repels Dementors.

"Thank goodness for Remus. He's the only thing that makes me feel like the boys are remotely safe there."

We're not going to start until after break, for various reasons that we all know about.

"Must be getting near the full moon…."

In other news, there's this huge rumor flying around that Harry and that Malfoy friend of his tried to kill Oliver Wood yesterday.

"Sounds like it got a little exaggerated in the retelling…"

"It's Hogwarts. What do you think is going to happen? Remember when I killed Snape something like nine times in personal combat? And how he is mysteriously alive and well today?"

"Point made."

I heard the twins telling Ron in the common room that they had overheard Oliver telling Katie during supper that she had been dating a psychopath who had almost ripped his throat out with that Malfoy friend of his, and apparently, Katie blew her top and started screaming at Oliver that he was an absolute prick who should never be allowed near women again in his life. I don't know who she had been talking to or where she got her information, but she was pretty serious. She has detention this Friday night with Harry, and I heard Lavender Brown telling Parvati and Padma Patil during Herbology that Harry is walking her back to the common room afterwards.

"Lord." Lily took a deep breath after saying the whole paragraph in one go. "He needs to steer clear of the rumor mill."

But that's pretty much it.

"That's 'pretty much it'? That was pretty much everything! What else could there be to say?"

"Don't let him hear you ask that: he might take you seriously."

I'll see you very soon for Christmas.

Love, Tom