Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Breaking Forwards	By : lastcrazyhorn Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > General Views: 13749 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Not mine. J.K. Rowling's fandom. She's makes money off these stories and I do not. Nor will I ever. Harry Potter is all hers. sniffles But the weird twisted shit? Muahahhaa.

Chapter List
- 11
- 12
- 13
Chapter 12 – Speaking of Hell . . .
"Albus," Minerva said nervously. She had caught him in his office, just as he was leaving for breakfast.
"Can this conversation continue downstairs? I hear that the house elves are making blueberry pancakes this morning!" He said with a twinkle in his eyes.
"No, Albus." She looked at him ominously and his demeanor abruptly sobered.
"What's happened now?" He sighed, turning around and going back to sit behind his desk.
"The Creevey brothers are missing."
He looked up sharply at her words.
"Missing?" He asked in a quiet voice.
. . .
Harry's first week as a Slytherin was hell, but it wasn't because of the other Slytherins. It was the Gryffindors.
The first day had been relatively benign. The Gryffindors had hissed at him in the hallways and none of them would look at him. Fine. He could handle that. They had done much worse during his second year when everyone thought that he had been the heir of Slytherin.
The second day had been filled with much of the same, except that everyone had also seemed to go out of their way to bump into him.
Fine. He could handle that too. He got much worse from going to Hagrid's class. He got much worse from being around his Uncle Vernon.
On the third day, the Gryffindors had begun throwing minor hexes at him, as well as trying to trip him whenever he walked anywhere. Fine. He could handle that. It certainly wasn't any worse than trying to get to the Goblet of Fire—let alone escape from Voldemort and company.
On the fourth day, those minor hexes had morphed into heavier ones like Serpensortia—which he hadn't personally minded, but which had scared a number of other students and nearly caused a riot in the hallway around him.
More than once he had the leg-locker curse fired at him from unseen sources, and he had managed to either dodge or deflect them all but one of those times. He supposed he should have been happy that no one had yet tried something like the Entrails-Expelling Curse, but all in all, he just wanted to be left in peace.
It was all just fine though. He was fine. His fellow Slytherins were fine. In fact, they were more than fine. They had done what the Gryffindor house had never done, and had rallied around him. They had helped him watch his back, as well as keep the younger members of the house out of harm's way too. Draco and Blaise had permanently stationed themselves at his sides, even though he had tried to talk them out of it.
"There's no reason for you to put yourselves in harm's way! They're only after me," he had argued.
Draco and Blaise had exchanged a glance, but Harry hadn't bothered to try to analyze it.
"Yeah, they're only after a Slytherin. Why should the rest of the house care?" Blaise rolled his eyes with contempt at him and his ears had pinked.
"I don't know how things are in Gryffindor, nor do I give a damn," Draco had said next. "But you're a Slytherin now," he had poked a finger lightly in Harry's chest, "and we take care of our own."
And that had been that. The conversation had been over and things had continued on.
. . .
Severus pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration from within the safety of his office. Never had anyone in the school seen such enmity between the Gryffindors and Slytherins as what had occurred over the last week. It hadn't even been this bad when he had been in school with the Marauders constantly after his blood.
These weren't pranks intended to amuse or humiliate, but rather a full-out attempt on the part of the Gryffindor house to purposely cause harm to Harry.
He knew that many of the other teachers within in the school were utterly shocked that the house of Gryffindor could be so cruel, but Severus knew better than most how real their actions were. All they needed was something to focus on, something—or someone—to be united against.
Since the matter concerning Hermione Granger was of the utmost and delicate secrecy, naturally the entire school knew about it. Furthermore, from what he could gather via some quiet snooping, he also knew that Gryffindor considered Harry its main suspect, and its actions as a house reflected that.
There was no doubt in his mind as to whether the boy was innocent; one only needed look at the boy in the eye and see that he was incapable of such a heinous act. In addition, several of the times in which Miss Granger was missing time coincided precisely with when Harry had been with him.
He had already handed out detentions to all of the major players in the situation—namely the Gryffindor fifth year boys. Ironically, or possibly logically considering the events at play, he had had no reason to punish the Weasley twins; at least not yet.
. . .
Friday dawned crisp and clear; the slight bite in the wind being the only foreshadowing of that day's danger.
Harry woke up with a start, pain in his head flaring as he opened his eyes, eliciting a small moan to escape his lips as his body became aware of its surroundings. Now awake, he gritted his teeth against the pain and tried to think back through the myriad of dreams that he had encountered the previous night.
He had dreamed something about a house and a man whose presence had bothered him nearly as much as Uncle Vernon's had. He tried to think, but the dream was quickly running away from him.
Damn it.
He carefully eased himself upright and nearly staggered as his headache blossomed even more fiercely in his temples.
"Bloody hell," he murmured to himself.
It wasn't as though the week hadn't been bad enough already, but now he had to make it through classes with one hell of a blinding brain squeezer. He glanced longingly at his bed, but he knew that it wasn't an option. He knew—or at least suspected—that Severus wouldn't mind letting him stay in bed, given his pain, but he couldn't allow himself to do it. Who knew what the Gryffindors would do if he were absent from classes? It had only gotten worse all week, and today wasn't likely to be an exception.
A knock at his door caused a barely noticeable wince through his shoulders and he forced himself to move quickly over to the other side of the room to open it. Light flooded his face and he nearly vomited from its intensity.
"Are you all right?" Severus asked him in concern.
"Slight headache," he managed to mumble out, propping himself against the doorway.
A black eyebrow rose in clear disbelief, and he knew that the man wouldn't let him go as easily as that.
"A slight headache?" Severus rumbled louder, causing him another wince.
"Something like that," he admitted in a pained voice, squinting at the man. He was barely aware of his professor as the man took him by the shoulder and led him back into the safety of the dark comfort within his bedroom.
"Are headaches this bad common for you?" Severus asked after seating him back on his bed.
"Time to time," he mumbled. "Usually has something to do with Voldy," he shrugged, immediately regretting the action as he did so.
Gentle fingers touched his head and he felt the very edges of his pain dissipate ever so slightly.
"Does it hurt here?" Severus's soft voice infiltrated his consciousness.
"Yes."
His professor touched another part of his head, and his answer was the same.
"Well," the man said after touching a few more spots, "considering your other symptoms, it would seem that you are suffering from a migraine. It's not too surprising, considering the stressors you've borne this week alone. Your best option would be to stay in bed. I can provide pain potions specifically brewed for headache relief—."
"No," Harry interrupted quietly.
"Why?" Severus looked at him with an unreadable expression.
"They'll think I'm hiding."
"Harry, what they think, and I use that term very lightly, is irrelevant."
"I—I know that Severus, but," he stopped and chewed his lip absentmindedly for a moment, "If I don't go to classes today, who know what they might do to everyone else instead? I don't want anyone else in Slytherin to get hurt," he admitted in a very soft voice.
He felt Severus sit down beside him and he allowed himself to lean into the man's warm side ever so slightly. An arm came up around his shoulders and he sighed, wishing his headache would dissipate so he wouldn't have to have this conversation.
"Slytherin is capable of taking care of its own," the deep voice said quietly into his ear.
"You know me though. I attract trouble. That's what you've always said," he answered with a touch of uncertainty.
The man beside him sighed.
"I think you're giving me too much credit. I believe that what I said was that you sought out trouble; although you have since then proven me wrong."
Harry could hear a slight smirk in the other's words.
"I'll make you a compromise. Potions class isn't until this afternoon. Take the headache and pain potions this morning and then if you're feeling up to it, go to your afternoon classes. Otherwise, I want you in bed, understand?" He could feel Severus looking at him, even though the darkness of the room kept him from actually seeing the steady gaze on the man's face.
Harry turned his head against his professor's shoulder. He could feel the strength emanating from Severus's body and felt the slightest inkling of hope that the man could—and would—really be able to keep him safe.
"Okay. Deal," he said a few heartbeats later.
"Good lad," the arm tightened briefly before relinquishing its hold on him as Severus got up to get the necessary potions.
. . .
Ron Weasley opened his eyes that Friday morning with a jerk and a startled gasp as he sought to free himself from that night's series of nightmares. Strange, his dreams had been unusually good for the past few weeks, but the previous night's had most definitely broken that trend.
He blinked rapidly as he tried to get the images of the man out of his mind.
Unbidden, a name he had not spoken in some years came to his lips, and he grimaced as he said it.
"Rodney."
Bastard, was his mind's automatic addition.
The creep's face followed him in his mind as he got dressed that morning. It swung around the insides of his eyelids as he blinked, and made him growl as he strode through the corridors on the way to the Great Hall.
Suddenly, within his mind he heard the man's voice whispering in his ear, causing him an involuntary flinch that he had to fight from showing the others around him.
"Rodney and Ronnie, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G; first comes love, then comes bonding, then comes Rodney with a big ol' stiffy. Guess who's going to help him get rid of that, Ronnie?"
Ronald successfully stifled another shiver as he dropped unceremoniously to the bench, hurriedly piling up his plate.
By the time that Dean and Seamus had plopped down beside him, his emotions were once more under control, even if he could still hear Rodney's voice in his mind.
. . .
Richie Mondon was unhappy. It could even be said that he was upset. He knew that the upper level boys had something bad planned for Harry, but he didn't have any way of telling anyone. After all, who could he talk to, really? Dumbledore? That was a joke and a half. He hadn't done anything about Hermione, or the Creevey brothers, and he sure as hell hadn't helped Harry Potter out any.
And therefore, by association mainly, that ruled out his chance of being able to talk to McGonagall either. In fact, if anything, she had even been more clueless than the old man had seemed when he had been called into his office.
Clearly he couldn't just go and talk to Harry Potter, even if he had before, regardless of the circumstances. He wasn't sure exactly of what he thought of the other boy, but he certainly knew that he was worth a great deal more respect than that arsehole Weasley.
"What's up Richie?" A quiet feminine voice interrupted his brooding. He was in the Great Hall, relegated to the far end of the table like the other first years, only his spot was on the very farthest edge away from everyone else.
The only other person who would dare speak to him now as Cynthia, and thus it was with little surprise to see her seated beside him.
"Them," he nodded towards the other end of the table with a sneer.
She nodded thoughtfully, her eyes looking seriously into his own.
They were the only two, other than Ginny Weasley and her twin brothers that were not actively participating in Ron Weasley's boycott against Harry Potter. Richie wasn't sure whether Neville Longbottom was involved or not, but he would consider him guilty by association until he knew otherwise.
"I think we should tell Snape," she whispered very quietly into his ear.
"How?" He asked, his eyes searching over her face nervously. So far, they had only been given the cold shoulder by the rest of the house for not getting involved, but Richie was far too aware of just how quickly the scales could tip against them.
"I think I need to go talk to Teddy."
. . .
Theodore Nott—known to his few friends and family as simply "Teddy," raised his eyebrows in surprise as his sister joined him in walking out of the Great Hall after breakfast that morning. After being sorted into Gryffindor, she had had very little contact with him. It was to be expected, considering the tensions between the two houses—particularly this year—but it still had irked him.
"Do I know you?" The corner of his mouth turned up as she rolled her eyes at him. He offered his arm to her and she took it as they strolled down the hallway. He had left breakfast early, not wanting to get caught in the crowd, and they were almost completely alone now as a result.
It wasn't until they were more than a flight of stairs away from the Great Hall that his little sister said anything more than two words to him.
"Is there anywhere that we can talk? In private?" She shot him a meaningful glance.
"Sure," he answered with a touch of worry in his gut. His little sister was quite independent and had been so his entire life. If she needed to talk, then she likely needed help with something. And if she needed help with something, well it must be a very great problem indeed.
They went into an unused classroom and he warded the door with protection, silencing and secrecy spells. It wasn't until he was finished that she let out a breath of relief and wrapped her thin arms tightly around him. He kneeled down and hugged her back, suddenly very frightened about what her fear could mean.
"The Gryffindors are planning to attack Harry at the end of classes today," she whispered in his ear.
"Shouldn't you tell McGonagall?" He whispered back, stroking her back soothingly. He was her big brother and he knew that she was ultimately his responsibility. He'd fight to keep her safe in a heartbeat.
"She's worthless when it comes to her upper years. She won't see," his little sister said sadly.
"We should tell Snape then," was his quiet response. "Tell me what you know and I'll let him know as soon as I can."
"Thank you Teddy," she smiled and kissed his cheek.
. . .
Dennis Creevey had taken care of his brother ever since they had found their way into the mysterious room they were now stationed in. Colin had drifted in and out of sleep for the first two days, and in that time, Dennis had discovered something quite startling about his state of illness.
His brother's arse was bleeding, but upon further investigation, Dennis had realized that it was actually his brother's arse hole that was the thing bleeding. He didn't know what had caused it and for those first few days, he couldn't find out by asking his brother either.
The room was an odd thing too; whatever they needed, be it a water closet or just a snack, the room somehow managed to provide it without much beyond a thought. He wondered if he could call for a doctor—no a healer—but he didn't want to try without his brother's permission; although, if Colin didn't get better soon, he was going to try no matter what.
The third day of their exile seemed to be Colin's turning point though, and soon thoughts of doctors and healers had fled his mind as he took in his brother's new behavior.
"Den?" That was his brother's nickname for him.
He looked up in questioning from where he was currently bent over a book that the room had thought to provide concerning basic and simple healing spells.
"You—we? Haven't left this room, have we?" Colin asked shakily, his eyes darting to and fro throughout the room.
"Nuh uh," Dennis shook his head in the negative. "You said not to," he added quietly, creeping to his brother's side silently.
"Good, that's good," Colin answered quickly, not looking at him. He seemed to be talking to himself more than anything else, and it only added more fear to Dennis's gut to watch him be so withdrawn.
Especially with me, was his worrisome thought.
"Colin? Did someone hurt you?" He whispered nervously. He wasn't sure if he was more afraid of his brother's reaction to his question or whether his fear stemmed directly from the answer itself.
He watched as Colin tensed up against the headboard of his bed.
"Col?"
The other boy scooted over in the bed and patted the empty spot next to him. Dennis hurried to comply and soon the two lost brothers were wrapped tightly around one another.
"You know who Ron Weasley is, right?" He could feel Colin shaking beside him and he tried to hold on that much tighter in hopes of settling him down.
"Yeah?"
"Well, listen here and listen good. You can't ever be alone with him. Don't ever go anywhere with him, don't ever talk to him even. If you see him coming, you run, get me? Run to a teacher, anyone except maybe the headmaster. I used to think he knew everything, but he doesn't—how could he?" Colin was muttering more to himself than to Dennis, but the younger boy listened carefully anyway.
"Maybe if he knew everything it'd drive him mad and then we'd all be screwed," here Colin barked out a disturbing sounding laugh, and Dennis tried not to shiver at the sound.
"What about Professor Sprout?" Dennis gave voice to his hope.
"Yeah, she's safe. Women are safe. Well maybe not McGonagall. Yeah, don't go to her. Go to Sprout. Snape. Flitwick. Flitwick's tiny. He can't hurt us. Snape's scary but he doesn't ever touch anyone. Go to him. Or Harry. Go to Harry. That's a good idea," Colin was rambling in his ear and Dennis couldn't but help shake with renewed fear.
"Are you sure you're okay, Col?" His words slipped and shuddered within his mouth and it took him two tries to get his question out.
His brother barked another laugh and Dennis felt his insides go cold.
"I'm not okay. No. Not okay, definitely not okay," his brother broke into hysterical giggles.
"Colin?" Dennis wrapped his arms tighter around his brother and closed his eyes in an effort to keep the tears from escaping. Someone had hurt his brother badly and it was all he could to stay there with him in hopes that his presence would calm him down.
. . .
MUGGLE BORN ATTACKED WITHIN WALLS OF HOGWARTS!
And then underneath the blaring headline read another slightly smaller one:
HAS HARRY POTTER GONE DARK?
Sources within Hogwarts have provided startling new evidence suggesting that this seems to be the case! "Everyone knows that he did it," Prefect Ronald Weasley told me when I interviewed him. As you know, Ronald Weasley had been one of Harry Potter's best friends since his very first year. However, this year seems to be the turning point within their friendship!
"I don't associate with dark wizards," Weasley added seriously, his eyes troubled and concerned over the loss of his friend over to the dark side. As most should know, the Weasley's have long been stalwart supporters of the light. If anyone would notice something going wrong in Harry Potter's troubled career, they would be the ones to spot it!
The muggle born student, also a fifth year prefect, was brutally attacked whilst in the Gryffindor dorms. Shortly thereafter, in a move that many have called "shocking" or just downright "ridiculous," Harry Potter was resorted into Slytherin! As you know, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named belonged to this very house during his own school years at Hogwarts. Many of the dark wizards who later aligned with him were also sorted there.
"Death Eaters in training," several students told me from the other houses within Hogwarts.
"They're creepy. I hate to have one walking down the hallway behind me for fear of what they might do," Seamus Finnelby told me.
"Cheaters and rule breakers, the lot of them," Devin Thomas, another Gryffindor said when asked about his opinion of the dark house.
How could Harry Potter have gotten so out of line as to be associated with the house that singlehandedly sought to make him an orphan? More on this story as it develops.
Rita Skeeter reports
. . .
"Oh shit," Draco breathed as they opened up the Daily Prophet that morning.
He looked around to see how everyone was taking it and swallowed hard against the influx of dark looks that were suddenly pointed their way.
He glanced up and down the Slytherin table and realized that everyone was present, minus two fifth years: Teddy Nott and Harry Evans. Professor Snape was also absent and he hoped that the man was just late and not in trouble, or as their luck would have it, dealing with trouble.
"This is bad," Blaise said in a low voice just audible to those sitting around him.
Draco looked at him and nodded, trying to keep from rolling his eyes at the sheer obviousness of the statement. It didn't do any good to have them turning against one another now.
. . .
At the head table, the professors present were upset and arguing amongst themselves. Dumbledore and McGonagall had arrived late, but just in time to learn firsthand of the Daily Prophet's maligning statements.
"This is complete codswallop, Albus!" Flitwick squeaked in an outraged voice.
"You must make a statement to the students," Minerva hissed to him, her anger clearly palatable in her face.
"Harry's not a dark'un!" Hagrid moaned lowly, his large eyes staring down the table at Dumbledore.
"This isn't just an act of libel against Mr. Potter. This is libel against the whole of Slytherin!" Sinistra spat furiously, her pride for her house coming through in the dark look in her eyes.
However, before Albus had gotten a chance to speak—let alone taste the delectable blueberry pancakes that were in fact sitting within arm's reach of his plate—the room abruptly became completely silent. He looked up to see that his irate Potions master had made his entrance.
In one hand, the man clutched a rumpled paper, and behind him stood a wary looking Theodore Nott. However, Severus's face was the most noticeable thing about him; his lips white with fury and his eyes narrowed with terrifying intent.
"Albus, I request a private word with you now." The man turned around and left, taking Nott with him and Dumbledore stood up slowly, his joints creaking loudly in protest.
"If you will excuse me, my dear?" He said mildly to a still gaping Minerva as he left the table.
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