Chapter 6: Secrets
Author's Note: I'm shit for updating, huh? I began reading stories for several new fandoms, started reading GoT (dear god help me), [insert more excuses here]. I found this chapter hiding on my computer, don't know why I never posted it, but I've decided to write the rest of this fic before I post again. I find that if I write a story entirely before I post anything, the quality of work is better and I finish it faster. Can't go back and do that with the first part of this story, but maybe it will inspire me to continue more diligently with the rest.
Sing for the Moment
Chapter Six: Secrets
By Phantom of the Tech Booth
There's a man who leads a life of danger.
To everyone he meets he stays a stranger.
With every move he makes, another chance he takes.
Odds are he won't live to see tomorrow.
[Secret Agent Man – Johnny Rivers]
Harry returned to bed early in the morning, managing to catch an hour of sleep before he had to drag himself back out from what little comfort his blankets gave. The Marauders were strangely quiet upon rising. Even Remus, who had always been anxious to be friendly to Harry, was subdued.
"Good morning, Harry," was all he said when Harry brushed by him to go downstairs.
"Morning." Harry slung his bag on his shoulder and stumbled hazily down the steps. Last night had mentally and emotionally drained him. He was tense with the approaching full moon and his body felt thoroughly exhausted. He blearily made his way through the common room, not even noticing Lily until she put her arm around him in a casual hug.
"Hi, Harry!" she chirped. "Ready for breakfast?" Harry nodded and they trudged to the Great Hall in relative silence, only interrupted by Lily's feeble attempts at conversation, which failed to grasp Harry's attention.
The rest of the day went by in that fashion. Harry actually fell asleep in Defense, much to the chagrin of Professor Adams, who had taken Harry's walk-out personally and had resolved to give him the silent treatment, no doubt praising himself for handling the situation with maturity. The Marauders were oddly supportive of him: Sirius never brought up Harry's romantic life, Peter collected his books after a Slytherin spelled them to fall over, Remus offered to give him a copy of his own notes for Defense, and above all James seemed to actually be encouraging Harry's time with Lily.
"What are you and Lils up to today?" he had asked during Charms when Lily took her seat next to Harry.
Harry shrugged, uninterested.
"Oh, we might go outside." Lily was a burst of positive energy today. "It's looking like we'll have some weather these next few days, might as well get some fresh air while we can, right, Harry?" Harry could do nothing more than stare at the floor. People say that letting your feelings out will leave you drained, but feeling lighter; he didn't feel anything. He was empty. With the weight of the world crushing him, he felt he had nothing left inside to hold it all up.
Lily grimaced and lightly scratched his back with a comforting hand, giving James behind her a worried look before turning her attention to Flitwick. After Charms, the six Gryffindors walked together to the Great Hall, where five of them watched their friend pick at his food in a most depressing manner.
When James caught the pleading look Lily was shooting at a helpless Remus, he jumped at his chance.
"So, Harry," he started. "I was thinking, when you and Lily go for that walk, we could join you!" Lily gave him a confused look, but said nothing. "We could walk out to the pitch and, go for a fly?" James remembered seeing how much Harry apparently enjoyed flying.
"Sure," Harry said after a moment. "Do you fly, Lily?" Lily was taken aback at being addressed—this was the most Harry had said all day.
"Err, well, not particularly, but I took that flying class in first year, and I suppose I could pick it back up again. It'll be fun," she added, hiding her face in a goblet of pumpkin juice.
"We could have game night!" Peter blurted.
"What's 'game night'?" Sirius asked flatly.
"It's—" Peter was confused as to how someone could go their whole life without having a game night. "It's when you stay in and play board games with your family."
"You're such a homebody," Sirius sneered. "We're going flying, Worm."
After their afternoon classes, they met up on the Quidditch pitch with their brooms in hand. Harry and Lily had to retrieve school brooms from the locker rooms.
"Don't you have a broom, Harry?" Peter asked. "I thought you liked flying!" James elbowed him in the gut, earning an oof! from Peter. They couldn't let Harry know that he had been spied on the other day when he went for his flight after Defense.
"Lost it in the attack, I suppose," Harry growled, giving Peter a cold stare. He wanted nothing more at this moment than to hop on the Firebolt that his godfather—the one who was ultimately killed because of Peter's initial betrayal—had given him, and fly back to Gryffindor tower before anyone could catch up. But he didn't have his Firebolt. For all he knew, he would never have it again—at least not for about twenty years—if Dumbledore failed to find a way to send him back to the future.
Harry took to the sky and felt a rush of adrenaline. That faded quickly with the Marauders trying as hard as they were to be so friendly. He knew it was only because Lily was worried about his lack of conversation, and the Marauders were helping James to get with Lily by trying to bring Harry out of his funk. The third time Harry had to fend off Peter's clumsy attempts to steer, he shot up into the sky high above the pit, as he had been taught to do by Oliver Wood when he had been training to catch the snitch in his first year.
"Where's Harry?!" Lily asked in a panic. She was gripping her broom with a death-vice.
"He's above," James pointed up, not looking away from her. "Just leave him alone."
"But—" Lily protested.
"We got him in the air. That's what he needs; not us bumping into him every other minute." Peter ducked his head in embarrassment and nearly fell back off his broom, sparking a bark of laughter from Sirius.
"Honestly, Wormtail, why do you even own a broom if you're never going to fly it?"
From a hundred feet above, Harry watched them. They wanted him to back off from Lily, and he had—mostly because he couldn't think of anything to say to her, the bright young woman who was doomed to give her life for his, but he had backed off all the same. Now they were encouraging his time with her, even going so far as to clear a space for the two of them to sit together in Charms, when he just wanted solitude.
From far above this crowd of familiar strangers, Harry didn't feel smothered anymore. He flew lazily around, allowing himself to close his eyes and savor the wind blowing through his hair. Drawing grass-flavored air deep into his belly, his body relaxed, and he felt how sore his muscles were from remaining rigid for so long. The full moon was coming, Harry could not forget that, and he was already feeling sore—even before his transformation. His heart dropped at the thought of going through another painful round at the Shrieking Shack.
Remus hovered carefully out of the way of the boisterous James and Sirius. James had clearly abandoned his pretense of helping Harry (for Lily's benefit, of course) and moved on to displaying his more impressive flying skills (also for Lily's benefit). Sirius, like a true wing-man, was setting up fantastic dives for James. He enthusiastically directed James to fly here and dodge that, as if a vast but disorganized army were requiring these ridiculously acrobatic Quidditch moves of poor, love-afflicted James.
"Look here, Lily, watch this!"
But Lily paid him no mind. Her focus was on Harry, and on successfully staying atop her broom whilst occasionally weaving around Peter's disastrous attempts to keep up with James. Remus was pained to see how much Lily had grown to care for Harry, a mysterious stranger whom she had known for all of one week. As times grew heavier and the political situation in the magical world grew darker, Remus could not help but feel anxious on Lily's behalf. Someone would have to warn her of the dangers of trusting so easily, or she could get hurt. Perhaps not by Harry—imagining the sad, skinny kid overpowering Lily's capable magic was difficult to do—but sooner or later, by somebody.
"It looks like it's starting to rain," Remus called out to Lily. "Let's go inside."
"Already?" Sirius whined.
"We've been out here for an hour!" Peter defended, nearly slipping off the tail end of his broom.
"C'mon, Harry, let's go in!" James bellowed through the thick air to the dark blob zipping around above them. When Harry gave no sign as having heard, James rolled his eyes and shot high into the air to get his attention. He paused when he gained Harry's level and watched as the new object of Lily's affection pulled out of a tight barrel-roll, not having noticed James's presence yet. "Oi!"
"What?" Harry asked. His flight did not waiver as he pushed his wet hair away from his face. It had started to drizzle steadily, and up here one could not avoid the droplets.
"It's raining, idiot," James explained good-naturedly. "We're going in."
"Okay," Harry conceded, as if it meant nothing to him. He turned to continue his flight.
"Err, you're coming in, too..." James hesitated. "Right?"
"Oh. Am I supposed to?" Perhaps 1970s Hogwarts had some sort of rule against students flying in poor weather. That's precious, Harry thought, recalling all the games and practices he spent in torrential downpours. James stared oddly at him.
"Well...I reckon you don't have to..." he said. "But, Lily's expecting you to. She won't want you getting sick."
"I'll be fine." Harry said no more as he flew quickly away from James, putting as much space between them as possible. James grimaced and slowly sunk through the air to the ground, preparing to face Lily's indignation at Harry's refusal.
"Potter! You're useless! What did you say to him to make him want to fly in the rain all night?!"
It was hours later in the common room. Remus, exhausted with the approaching full moon, had retreated to bed long ago. Peter was catching up on homework with Sirius, and James was innocently practicing a few spells he thought would be well-placed on Snivellus. Lily, however, was alternately pacing the floor in front of the fire, stalking up and down the corridors of Hogwarts, and staring out the window, waiting for Harry's safe return.
"What, me? I didn't say anything! He said he'll be fine," James argued. "What was I supposed to do, drag him by his arm back to Gryffindor tower?"
"Drag him by his cripple-arm," Sirius interjected quietly, receiving a swift slap to the head by Lily. "What? Why won't he just tell us what happened?"
"It's none of your business, Black," she ground out. "I'm going to make my rounds in the dungeons."
"You've done enough rounds for all the Prefects combined, Evans!" James called after her. "Stop trying to get people in trouble!" Lily ignored him as she stormed away.
"You know, she's just using her prefect powers to make herself feel better," Sirius suggested.
"Feel better about what?"
"About her lost little pup, floundering in the rain." Sirius ducked a blow from James, laughing viciously.
Harry threw his borrowed broom carelessly into the corner of the locker room. It had to be past curfew by now, and he was soaked to the bone. And cold. He wished he could remember that spell Hermione once used to dry his clothes, but he couldn't wrap his rain-numbed mind around anything but getting inside the castle walls right now.
When he finally stumbled through the door to the castle, Harry thought he could fall asleep where he stood in the Entrance Hall. Crossing the hall to the stairs, the door to the dungeons caught his eye, and an old nugget of an idea resurfaced in his brain. He was tired now, but come the full moon in a few days he would be wide awake and forced to endure the agony of his second round of transformation. If the full moon lasted two full nights this month, he would have to endure it again on the second night, with no time to recover in between. He shuddered at the thought, though it could have been because he was dripping wet in the inexplicably chilly castle.
It was midnight; the students were long gone and Slughorn no doubt would be asleep. All he had to do was avoid any Prefects brave enough to do their rounds in the dungeons at this hour of the night, in this haunted weather. Harry dragged his feet away from the promise of a warm bed—at least for the next hour—and over to the dungeon door, descending as quickly as his lethargic body could into the cold darkness.
He found Slughorn's storeroom without trouble and a simple Alohamora was all the lock required. "Just need some sloth brain, sloth brain..." Harry muttered to himself, poking through various ingredients that lined the shelves. His eyes lit upon the target and he pocketed the large jar. It was the only one in the storeroom, so he would just have to hope that Slughorn would not need sloth brain any time soon. Even dead on his feet, Harry could easily remember the ingredients of the powerful sleeping potion—Draught of Living Death—that he had studied twice now, in both Snape's class and Slughorn's. It was sometimes used in the medical field to keep patients asleep through invasive procedures, so it was perfect for a transformation.
If he managed to brew it correctly.
Harry spun around, sheltering the lump in his robes that concealed the jar.
"W-What are you doing?" Lily searched Harry's wide eyes.
"It's for research!" Harry exclaimed.
"I—er, I was quizzing myself on ingredients," Harry said breathlessly. "I'm rubbish at potions, and Slughorn said we'd be going along rather quickly this year, so I wanted to...to just quiz myself on ingredients I don't have." Lily stared at him with an unreadable look in her familiar eyes.
"Well, regardless, Harry," she said slowly, "this is not a public potions storeroom. If you want to do research on your own with ingredients you don't already own, you'll do better to go round an apothecary. You can't just break into Professor Slughorn's supply."
"I wasn't going to take anything!" Harry's voice sounded oddly high-pitched and the jar felt impossibly huge in his pocket. How could she not see it? Lily gave him a queer look.
"Of course not," she agreed halfheartedly. Thick silence hung in the air like a corpse. Harry's heart was racing, he could feel his own pulse reverberating through the incriminating jar.
"Look, so...I'll see you!" Harry pushed past Lily and flew through the corridors, his exhaustion forgotten. He didn't remember the journey to Gryffindor Tower from the dungeons, and when he made his way up the stairs to the boys' dormitory, he peeled off soaked clothes hurriedly and left them on the floor. He was careful to hide his precious ingredient in an old sock deep within his trunk before collapsing into bed for the night.
Harry slept straight through breakfast and his first class. No amount of encouragement from the Marauders could get him out of bed. His head was throbbing and he could not bring himself to pry open his heavy eyes.
"Harry?" It was James this time. "Lily says you need to get out of bed."
Harry groaned a response. It was bad enough he couldn't keep himself asleep for more than a few minutes at a time, but his dormmates insisted on waking him whenever he did manage to lose consciousness.
"You've already missed double Transfiguration, and Potions is next," James went on. "She—She said you would want to come down for Potions, at least," he finished lamely.
Harry gave no response. His throat was scratchy and irritated, and it didn't help that he had to breathe from his mouth because of his stuffed nose.
"We're going down for lunch, if you want to join us before Potions," James offered. He finally left the room and hurried downstairs in defeat.
"He's missed two meals, double Transfiguration, and now he's late for Potions!" Lily seethed in the dungeon.
"He's not late, he's got a minute left," Sirius defended, looking at his watch. Slughorn entered the room and began writing on the board. "Now he's late."
"What's it to you anyway, Lily-kins?" James asked. "I thought you and him were buddy-buddy, why are you so peeved?" Lily looked taken aback.
"I—well, I...I'm a prefect, I can't condone anyone skiving class, Potter!" she snapped. "If he's tired from yesterday, it's his own damn fault for staying up so late." She remembered the guilty look on Harry's face when she caught him nicking something from Slughorn's supplies last night. The feeling of betrayal smothered her now. What was he doing? Why couldn't he tell her? She could get in trouble for not reporting him, she could lose her Prefect status! She was supposed to be his friend.
"Give him a break," Peter whispered. "I think he's ill."
"Well, Remus is not looking his best either, Peter, but he still made it to class," Lily said with an unmistakable degree of petulance. Remus flushed and looked away, biting his lip.
"Just leave it, Evans," Sirius demanded with surprising force. Lily looked as if she were about to retort, when Slughorn turned from the board to begin his lecture.
After class, Lily gently took Remus by the elbow, drawing him aside.
"Remus, are you well?" she asked casually, trying not to let her agenda cloud her mind.
"Of course, Lily," he said amicably enough. "I suppose this weather just has me feeling gloomy."
"And I suppose Harry got himself sick by flying in that rain all day and half the night," Lily added hotly. Remus glanced away to ensure that his friends were far down the corridor.
"What's with you, Lily?" he asked. He saw no reason to blunt the edge of his question. "What happened between you and Harry since yesterday?" He narrowed his eyes, thinking of when she had left the common room last night. Did they run into each other and have a spat?
Lily sighed, worrying her lip and brushing a stray lock of red hair from her troubled face. "I caught Harry in the dungeons last night, just after midnight," she whispered.
"What was he doing in the dungeons?" His heart was fluttering.
"He was going through Slughorn's potions supplies," she hissed in outrage and confusion. "I think—I think he took something." Remus stopped breathing for a beat, afraid the sound of his breath caused him to mishear.
"Lily, that's a pretty serious accusation—stealing from a professor in the middle of the night..." Something was not right.
"I know what I saw. He put something in his pocket, and then he lied about it! I pretended not to see, and he said he was only quizzing himself on ingredients, but he took something, I just know it!" Lily's fierce green eyes began to fill with tears, but she didn't let them fall. Above the worry and confusion, her anger was undeniable.
"Don't worry about it too much now, Lily," came the only words Remus could think to say. They were empty words. Harry was clearly up to something, and from Lily's story, it wasn't good. He did his best to soothe her, but she remained full of emotions as they walked together to the common room for their study break.
Back at the common room, Remus gave his fellow Marauders meaningful looks, which told them that he would fill them in later on this most revealing conversation.
"He's working for You-Know-Who!" Peter practically screeched. James put a hand over his friend's mouth to silence him.
"Be quiet, you dolt!" he hissed, looking around the deserted bathroom. Sirius's eyes lit up in mischief.
"What do you think he's doing, Moony?" he asked wickedly.
"This is serious!" James scolded. Sirius winked, but James cut him off before he could say anything. "I'm not kidding. Lily could be in trouble."
"James, I don't think Harry would do anything to hurt—" Remus began.
"If this kid is working for You-Know-Who, and he knows that Lily caught him when he was up to no good, he may have no choice," James said darkly. The tone in the room changed; Sirius was silent now. "He's been here just two weeks and we're all willing to trust him, but we don't know him at all! How did he survive a full fledged Death Eater attack over the summer? ...They recruited him."
"Don't be stupid, James," Remus protested. "Harry's a good kid, he's just..."
"Just what?" James challenged. "What was he doing in the dungeons, stealing from Slughorn's supplies?"
"We've stolen plenty from there," Sirius suggested mildly.
"For pranks. Do you think Holmes is the pranking type? He's twitchy and nervous all the time, he's hiding everything about his past from everyone, even Lily! Which means that he doesn't hold her life above anyone else's. If he has to silence her, he will. And we have to stop him."
Sirius stared at his friend for a moment, before his eyes darkened and his jaw set. He nodded. Peter followed suit. They looked at Remus expectantly.
"I just don't think we should jump to conclusions..." Remus's hesitant voice trailed off when they heard someone unlocking the door to the abandoned girls' bathroom. The four Marauders scrambled into the two farthest stalls and waited with baited breath.
And who would walk in but Harry Holmes himself, carrying his backpack and a cauldron.
Harry hurried into the lavatory, eager to get out of the open corridors before he was caught. It was a free period before dinner and he wasn't keen on explaining to any professors or curious passersby why he was taking his potions supplies to the abandoned girls' lavatory. He couldn't brew his potion in the dorm; the Marauders could come in at any time and ask where he had gotten the ingredients for Draught of Living Death. He couldn't find an empty study room in the library at this peak studying time. And he certainly didn't want to go into the Room of Requirement, when the Marauders could pick his location up from the map. No, he had to go somewhere secluded, somewhere nobody knew about.
The Chamber of Secrets.
After thoroughly locking the door behind him, he found the snake on the faucet without trouble. He cleared his throat and commanded it in hoarse Parseltongue to open. When the Chamber's entrance revealed itself, he steeled himself for the worst, gripped his wand tightly, and jumped down.
"DID YOU SEE THAT?" Peter screamed in horror.
"He's a Parselmouth," Sirius said flatly. James gave Remus a triumphant look.
"That doesn't prove anything!" Remus contested weakly. "Not all Parselmouths are evil."
"Name one who wasn't!" Peter squeaked. His eyes were wide and a lock of oily hair was askew.
Remus floundered. He wasn't even sure why he was defending the boy—when Lily confided in him, he was nearly as certain as they were that he was working for Voldemort in one way or another. But now, with everyone condemning him without any sort of defense, it all seemed ludicrously unfair. They didn't know anything yet, and already James was convinced that Harry was plotting Lily's demise.
"C'mon!" James waved them over to the Chamber's entrance. It was a black chute which twisted and turned far into the abyss. "What is this?" Nobody replied, not knowing what to say.
"James!" Peter grabbed his friend by the arm when he took another step closer.
"Mate, you can't be serious..." Sirius looked at James's stoic face. "You can't go down there!"
"I have to know what he's doing."
"But he's a Death Eater!" Peter protested.
"At least take the cloak," Sirius suggested. James nodded.
"Right then. Remus, Peter, you two stay down here and watch. We'll go up and get the cloak." Peter nodded determinedly, taking out his wand to defend himself from the hole in the ground.
Twenty minutes later, the boys returned with the cloak. Without so much as a word to either Peter or Remus, they both wrapped themselves in the cloak and carefully lowered themselves into the chute.
"Be careful," was all Remus could think to say to his invisible friends. With that, he heard them let go of the edge and slide down into the dark unknown.
Harry read and re-read the eighth step in his potions book carefully before he added the diced Valerian roots to the concoction bubbling in front of him. He had run into no trouble regarding the basilisk: it had not been woken from its slumber deep within the Chamber, just as he had hoped. Harry set up camp far along the corridor, where there was more than one torch he could light. He was around the corner from the entrance and it was exceptionally cold.
He sniffled and shivered, coughed and wheezed, but never took his puffy red eyes away from the potion. He only had one chance at this. He would be able to make several doses if he was successful, but he wouldn't get another opportunity if he botched it.
James and Sirius found Harry without trouble. They could see flickering firelight from around the bend at the far end of the corridor, and they swiftly and silently followed it. They spotted Harry's hunched, shivering form sitting before his potion, carefully adding another ingredient. They weren't close enough to make out what ingredients he had, but they could smell the dank, acidic smoke the potion was giving off.
Harry broke into a fit of hoarse coughs, each sounding as if it took a chunk of his lung on the way out. But he continued his careful stirring, nonetheless. The boy was obviously focused on his important project.
It was over two hours before Harry turned down the heat of the flame under his cauldron, observed his potion's color and thickness, and compared it to his book. After apparently deeming it acceptable, Harry gave a strained smile, bottling it into several vials and storing them in the bottom of his bag. The paleness of his face was evident even in the dim light. Neither James nor Sirius were very surprised when Harry used his bag as a pillow and fell asleep in the middle of the musty, secret corridor. They took this as their opportunity to retreat back up the tunnel.
"You're willing to condemn a Hogwarts student—a Gryffindor, no less—on the basis of what? That he's a Parselmouth?"
"Shouldn't that be enough?" Peter objected, giving Remus an incredulous look from across the dorm.
"There was a time when you would have said that about werewolves, too. Am I right?" Remus hotly defended. "Ignorance in the jury does not constitute guilt in the defendant."
"He's a Parselmouth, yes," James picked up, "and he's a thief—"
"You'll have to lock us all up on that pretense, Potter."
"And he's brewing a suspicious potion in the Chamber of Secrets!"
"The Chamber of Secrets is a myth, he just found a hidden passageway we've yet to discover. And what makes his potion suspicious? He has to hide the fact that he stole the ingredients, maybe that's the only reason he was down there."
"He's under a deadline," Sirius said. He ignored Remus, thinking carefully. "Why else would he have been working so hard and long on a stinking potion in a secret location when he's dead on his feet, sick? You-Know-Who is on his back, that's why."
James gestured triumphantly at Sirius's words and Peter nodded as if the matter was settled.
Remus wanted to tear his hair out. When these boys got an idea in their heads, there was nothing that could temper their ways with caution. He had to admit that Harry Holmes was a suspicious figure, even in his opinion. He certainly did not regret telling the Marauders about Lily's findings; better safe than sorry, as the saying goes. But watching Peter eagerly discuss with James and Sirius what to do about Holmes, Remus shuddered to think what Hogwarts may have in store for the potentially innocent—perhaps misguided—orphan.
"Nothing is too much too soon for Death Eater scum," Sirius posed.
If he's not working for Voldemort now, Remus thought with mounting dread, they'll drive him to it.
Hours later, curfew was approaching when Harry finally came through the portrait hole, carefully cradling his bag and cauldron. Remus studied his face carefully, searching for a clue hidden in those striking green orbs. He saw nothing but bags under his eyes and a red nose between wan cheeks. Harry caught his eye and gave a stiff nod, heading for the stairs.
"Hey, Harry!" Remus called. "Are you finished with that Transfiguration essay?"
"Is that due tomorrow?" Harry croaked with a grimace.
"It's not too bad, I can help you if you want. I finished mine ages ago." The rest of the Marauders were still upstairs in the dorm, plotting Harry's demise no doubt. He certainly couldn't let him walk into that alone. Not until he was sure...
"Err, yeah. That'd be...swell." Harry dropped his bag at Remus's feet and nearly dropped himself onto the floor at the same rate. His hands were shaking as he rummaged around his bag—was he being careful not to let Remus see the contents clinking gently inside?
They stayed up well past midnight working on Harry's essay. Twice Remus had to gently nudge him awake. When they had finally finished what would pass as a finished product, Remus carried Harry's empty cauldron upstairs as he led the way to the dorm. He couldn't help but think that Harry was not an angry boy—he had seen flashes of anger not unexpectedly when he was stressed or annoyed, but not the hate-fueled spirit of one destined for dark magic. He was sad, and lonely, and tired. He was in pain.
Remus gave a brief warning glance to the suddenly silent Marauders as the pair trudged into the room. Not a word was spoken as he and Harry climbed into their respective beds and soon even Remus could not keep his eyes open. He fell asleep dreaming of the fast-approaching moon.
When he would wake in the morning, he could swear he had seen a familiar face in his dream, another slave of the moon, but he would not be able to recall who it had been... The dream would quickly fade away and he would be left alone to battle through his last day before the moon.
Beware of pretty faces that you find.
A pretty face can hide an evil mind.
Oh, be careful what you say. You'll give yourself away.
Odds are you won't live to see tomorrow.
[Secret Agent Man – Johnny Rivers]
Story Recommendation: Hooked, by Carlyxoxo. After the death of his Godfather and learning the meaning of the prophecy, Harry starts taking drugs and drinking to forget about the life he has to return to after the holidays. Now back at Hogwarts. I've read probably every drug-addiction related Harry Potter fic out there, and this is one of the stories that sticks with me.
A/N: Review and let me know how I'm doing. I'm seeking constructive criticism, not just "good please update," so if you've got something to make this story better or more real, let me know! It keeps me writing.