B-R-Y-A-N

Bryan reached the portrait of the Fat Lady ten minutes later.

"Back from detention dear?" the portrait asked pleasantly. "Do you remember the password?" Bryan ran through that morning in his mind until he found a memory of someone saying the password.

"Periwinkle," he said after a moment. The Fat Lady nodded and swung open. Bryan gasped.

The common room looked empty, but he could feel someone in there, someone sleeping in the depths of despair. Images of the dream the person was having flashed in his mind, accompanied with sharp pangs of guilt, loss, hatred, loneliness...something about a laughing woman with heavy-lidded eyes, a black veil fluttering without wind, an orb lit from the inside, and that same black dog from the Leaky Cauldron. Finally recognizing the mind, Bryan rushed inside.

Harry was sprawled in one of the big chairs in front of the fireplace, his back to the portrait. Tears ran freely from his closed eyes and quiet sobs escaped him with each breath.

"Harry, wake up!" Bryan hissed urgently, gripping Harry's shoulder tightly and shaking it. The boy gasped and sat up. After a couple deep breaths, he returned to normal.

"Bryan, you're back!" he said with a cheerfulness that now made Bryan feel sick.

"Harry," Bryan said softly, "Harry, why didn't you tell anyone?"

"Tell anyone what?" Harry said, throwing on a confused look. Bryan wiped some moisture off Harry's cheek and held it up.

"About this."

Harry looked away and Bryan saw the masks fall.

"Because it's not what they want to hear," Harry whispered. "People want to hear that I'm okay, that I'm happy. No one wants to know that their hero is suffering, that I'm lonely, that I have all the same problems of a normal 16 year-old plus a few extra thrown in for good measure. All our allies want to see is a bright-faced idol and all our enemies want to see is a spoiled brat with a perfect life. So that's what I give them." While he said this, Harry stared absently past Bryan, looking at himself more than anything around him. Now he seemed to shake himself from his vulnerable state and the masks flew back into place. "Well, it's late. We should be getting to bed. Goodnight, Bryan!" Bryan was too stunned to reply and merely waved as Harry stood up and retreated to his dorm.

Bryan followed a moment later and was less than surprised to find George, Victor, Hudson, and Mark all waiting up for him. Victor sneered at him and opened his mouth to say something (most likely something mean), but Mark cut him off.

"Good, you're back," he said with a smile, "Snape sure is a taskmaster, keeping you this late. So, let's get to bed, shall we?" He looked pointedly around the room. George and Hudson both nodded and blew out their candles. Victor didn't say anything, just sat there and stared at him. The sneer was gone, but the menacing light lingered in his eyes. Bryan wasn't bothered, he knew well enough that he could wake up long before Victor could do anything to him, so he took a moment to block out their minds and headed to his own bed, ready for a night of sleep.

The last thought that buzzed in his head before he drifted off was the Harry Potter was better at Occlumency than he let on.

The next morning, he woke promptly at seven. After a quick revel in his freedom and an even quicker shower, Bryan headed down with every intention of going to breakfast. He was stopped on the stairway by a whispered order of silence and a pale hand that pulled him behind a tapestry. There was a small room hidden there, and in the barely existent light Bryan could make out Malfoy's anxious face.

"What's up?" Bryan asked.

"Have you set up a time for me to talk to Harry yet?" Malfoy asked. Bryan stared at him incredulously.

"I've been a bit busy, Malfoy," he said, "but if you're really this anxious about it, I'll see if Harry can meet you this Saturday, right here, at eight. Will that work for you?"

"No, I've got prefect duties until nine-thirty," Malfoy said with a dismissive wave of his hand, "Have him meet me here at ten."

Without waiting for a response, Malfoy made his escape. Bryan followed quickly after him; well aware that no one was anywhere near their hiding spot.

Breakfast was much better than the previous meal had been. Showing their true Gryffindor courage - and their disdain for what Victor had done - Hudson and George both sat near Bryan, isolating Victor instead. Bryan barely had enough time to whisper the meeting time to Harry before he was surrounded by people acting normal to show that they weren't afraid of him. The only other break in the chatter came with the morning post. A great horned owl caught Bryan's eye; actually, it was more the distinctive red color of the letter the owl carried that caught his eye. The letter (the minds around him called it a howler, though its significance was lost on Bryan) was dropped in front of Victor and the owl flew off with a mighty screech.

Victor's hands shook as he picked it up and gingerly tore open the envelope. The letter pulled itself out of his hands before he could do anything and started yelling its message in a high, shrieking voice.

"YOU LITTLE BLOOD TRAITOR!!!" it began. Harry gave a little start at the phrase. "I HOPE YOU LIKE BEING A GRYFFINDOR, BECAUSE YOU'RE OBVIOUSLY NOT GOOD ENOUGH TO BE A SLYTHERIN. HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN ALL WE HAVE TAUGHT YOU? WHERE IS YOUR FAMILY PRIDE? HOW DARE YOU NOT FOLLOW THE PROPER LINE? YOUR FATHER AND I ARE SO DISAPPOINTED IN YOU, VICTOR. WE CAN ONLY HOPE THIS LETTER WILL SHAME YOU ENOUGH TO BEG OUR FORGIVENESS. WE WISH YOU THE BEST OF LUCK IN YOUR STUDIES, THOUGH I DON'T HAVE MUCH HOPE OF ANY GRYFFINDOR ACTUALLY DOING WELL IN SCHOOL. DON'T WRITE BACK UNTIL YOU HAVE REALLIGNED YOURSELF INTO A PROPER BRANDISH!"

There was a deathly silence in the Hall after the letter finished. Everyone watched Victor as, still shaking, he got up and ran out of the large double doors. Bryan could hear the mirth in some of his classmates as they watched him go. Trying - and failing - to seem inconspicuous, Bryan got up and followed Victor. He found the boy curled up on the floor behind a suit of armor near the portrait of the Fat Lady.

How could she say that? My own mother! Merlin, now everyone knows what a witch she is. Just because I don't run away like a coward at the first sign of trouble I'm not a 'true Slytherin'! Well maybe I don't want to be a Slytherin! Maybe I don't want to look out for my own skin only and not let anyone be my friend because maybe I don't believe that friends inevitably stab you in the back and the only bonds that really matter are those of blood! Maybe I don't want to be a Brandish at all! For Merlin's sake, I might as well not want to be a wizard, for all the good it'll do me.

The thoughts were broken off by a harsh, bitter sound that might have been a laugh and might have been a sob. Victor stood up and found himself suddenly face to face with Bryan, who put a gentle hand on his shoulder. The young would-be Slytherin braced himself for some pitying words, but Bryan just reminded him that they would be late for Charms if they didn't hurry and walked off at a pace Victor could easily match. They walked together in silence to Professor Flitwik's classroom, only parting when they realized the only two seats left weren't anywhere near each other.

The students all around Bryan were confused. The bell signaling the beginning of class had rung a good five minutes ago and still there was no sign of Flitwik. Bryan smiled to himself. He could sense the tiny wizard's mind behind the desk as well as Flitwik's amusement at the students' confusion. Mark, who was seated on Bryan's right, noticed his expression and leaned in.

"You know where he is, don't you?" he whispered mischievously. Bryan nodded imperceptibly and pointed - without lifting his hand from the desk - at Flitwik's hiding spot. Mark swiveled his head around and stared, trying to see if he could spot the professor. More people noticed and soon every head was turned toward Flitwik's desk.

"Very good," said a high, cheerful voice, "Five points to Gryffindor. I believe it was you, Bryan, who noticed me first?"

"Yes, professor," Bryan said in a small voice. The Ravenclaws muttered angrily amongst themselves, but they were distracted when Flitwik removed the charms that had kept him hidden so that he seemed to materialize gradually on top of a pile of books.

Their first class was on the 'swish and flick' wand technique, the same one Bryan had learned from the diagrams weeks ago. After a half hour of practicing this, Bryan was getting bored and was therefore quite pleased when Flitwik decided to move on to their first charm.

"Levitation, or the ability to make things fly, is one of the most basic skills a wizard must learn," Flitwik explained, "It is the precursor to both the summoning and banishing charms and is used on such common things as Fizzing Whisbees. The candles in the Great Hall are held up with levitation charms, and a complex variation of the spell is used on broomsticks, though that particular spell is NEWT level. Now, repeat the incantation after me, please: Wingardium Leviosa." The class recited the spell four more times until Flitwik was satisfied that they knew it. "Now, add in the wand work - please aim for the feather on your desk - and remember: Swish and Flick!"

Bryan frowned in concentration; this would be his first spell. He nervously pointed the stick in his hand at the fluffy white feather that sat before him.

"Wingardium Leviosa," he said, unconsciously imitating the Professor's voice perfectly. The feather twitched, but didn't fly. "Wingardium Leviosa!" he commanded again, still the feather refused to budge. He was drawing strange looks from the people around him and some of the Ravenclaws laughed at him, despite their own inability to perform the spell.

"Bryan," Mark whispered at him, "try using your own voice instead of speaking like Flitwik." Bryan was glad mark pointed this out to him and he tried the spell again, forcing his voice to be his own: American, boyish, and a little deep. The feather lifted itself an inch off the table. The strain it took Bryan to hold it up was more than he'd thought and he let it drop again in surprise.

"Here, Mark, why don't you try it a moment?" he suggested, trying to divert attention from his own failed efforts. Mark nodded and pointed his wand at the offending feather.

While Mark worked, Bryan thought. Why was it so difficult to do a first-level spell when he was able to do Legilimency without even trying? After all, wasn't that magic too? Why, then, could he barely levitate a feather? His musings were interrupted by Flitwik's delighted squeal.

"Look, everyone, Mister Brandish has done it!"

Bryan looked over and saw that Victor was staring hard at his feather, which now floated barely three feet below the ceiling. Victor's eyes shown bright with the intensity of his success; to him, it wasn't just that he had been the first to levitate the feather; he had proven his mother wrong. Gryffindors can do excellent in school.

That night Bryan couldn't sleep. It wasn't his fault, he just couldn't; he wasn't tired in the least. Instead, he sat in the common room watching the other students from his hiding spot in the corner. He was still quite uncomfortable around crowds, and the one in the common room wouldn't start thinning until after midnight, most likely. When he sensed Harry, under his invisibility cloak, coming down the stairs, Bryan moved as though to leave the common room through the portrait hole. He had just gotten it open when a voice called out from near the fireplace.

"Where are you going, Bryan? Curfew was over an hour ago for first years." It was Hermione, acting her part perfectly. Bryan paused, leaving the door open and letting Harry out, then turned back to her.

"Oh, right," he said with a smile, "Thanks, Hermione." She winked at him and turned back to her homework while Bryan moved surreptitiously back to his corner. Less than a minute later, he was roused from his observance by an anguished mental cry for help. He knew the mind it came from; Harry.

Harry walked silently down the hallway, wondering just what it was Malfoy would be telling him. He was so distracted, he nearly missed the tapestry that Bryan had described. Carefully making sure no one was around, Harry took off his invisibility cloak and entered the hidden room.

Malfoy was standing in a corner, his back to Harry. When Harry cleared his throat to announce his presence, Malfoy whirled around and Harry could see the blade in his hands. Harry gasped and stepped back, but he wasn't fast enough. Malfoy lunged and planted the blade in Harry's gut, wiggled it savagely, and pulled it back out. Silently, Harry dropped to the floor, the surprised gasp still frozen on his lips. The knife clattered to the floor in front of his face and Malfoy was gone, disappearing back into the hallway.

Blood poured from the wound and Harry raised one hand futilely to stop it. The red liquid seeped between his fingers and dripped onto the stone below, pooling into a crimson mirror where Harry could see the anguish on his face. Then another face appeared beside his; Bryan's face.

Without speaking, Bryan lifted Harry in his arms and raced through the halls to the hospital wing. His heart pounded in his chest - not from exertion, Harry was light and the trip was short - out of pure fear for the life he held in his hands. If he wasn't fast enough or gentle enough...but he couldn't think like that, he had to get Harry to Madam Pomfrey. When the double doors of the Infirmary loomed in front of him, Bryan didn't slow down; he ran right up and kicked them in, using his extraordinary balance to lose as little momentum as possible. In fact, Bryan didn't slow down until he was at the bed nearest Madam Pomfrey's office, and then it was only to set Harry down as gently as he could before running off to fetch the healer.

Bryan knelt close to Harry's head while Pomfrey worked her magic on the wound.

"What happened, Harry?" he asked, softly but insistently. Harry looked at him with sad eyes, eyes that Bryan hadn't seen since the previous night when Harry had let his masks fall.

"It was Malfoy," he said, his voice raspy from the pain and blood loss, "he...he stabbed me." Behind his glasses, Bryan's eyes went hard and cold, his face contorted into an expression that had struck fear into the most stalwart guards. He left Harry and ran through the hall again, shedding his robes, shoes, and glasses as he went.

The Slytherin common room was far too well protected for him to enter the correct way, but Bryan knew that everything had a back way in. He ran to the second floor and the Arithmancy room. The door was locked, but a hairpin later he was inside anyway. Opening the window was slightly more difficult and required not a little bit of brute strength, but Bryan was well equipped for such situations and he forced them open. His hands and feet gripped the rough stone of the outer wall easily and he lowered himself down until he reached a tiny, barred window. Inside, he could feel Malfoy's mind clearly, innocently poring over Transfiguration homework.

Bryan braced himself firmly against the wall, gripped the bars in his feet and pulled, using his emotions to add strength to his actions. The cold metal came out of stone with a loud crunching sound that served well to get Malfoy's attention. The blonde gasped and backed into the opposite wall as the window itself crashed open and Bryan toppled (skillfully) in. Malfoy recovered quickly.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Bryan?" he hissed. Bryan fixed him with the Look.

"What am I doing, Malfoy?" Bryan retorted in a cold, measured voice. "I think it's more appropriate to ask, what were you doing? Perhaps with Harry, a secret room, and a knife?"

"Kinky, Bryan," Malfoy sneered at him, "but that's not my style."

"Oh really?" Bryan's hand shot out and he grabbed Malfoy's left sleeve and held it up to the light, barely revealing the crimson dye on the edge. Malfoy's mouth dropped open.

"What in Merlin's name...Bryan, what's going on?" he asked weakly.

"You just came from a supposed 'meeting' with Harry where you stabbed him in the stomach!" Bryan nearly shouted. Malfoy shook his head weakly in protest.

"But I didn't...I never..." he stammered. Bryan looked into his mind and found that, on the surface at least, Malfoy truly didn't know anything. Staring at Malfoy intently, Bryan delved deeper, focusing his Legilimency on Malfoy and Malfoy alone. He waded through confused thoughts about allegiances, friendship, family, and a hundred other things that teenage boys think about. He moved on, into Malfoy's memories of a spoiled childhood full of constant brainwashing. Finally, in the deepest corners of Malfoy's mind, Bryan found it. The wall; the sign of Occlumency. It was hidden too deep and seemed too foreign in Malfoy's mind for it to be of his own creation, but it was there and Bryan needed to get past it. Bryan steadied himself on a chair and closed his eyes, forcing his own will upon the wall in the equivalent of a battering ram. Over and over he hit it. The wall bent, cracked, and shattered. The physical Malfoy suddenly fell to the floor, cradling his head in his hands.

Finally Bryan was inside the hidden place. He had been right in his assumption that it wasn't put there by Malfoy, at least not this Malfoy. The magical signature had a familiarity about it, which was probably what allowed it to end up buried so deep in Draco Malfoy's head. Inside was a very organized area with very specific instructions: Kill Potter! The words reverberated around the entirety of Malfoy's head, now that they were set free and Malfoy cried out against them.

"I won't!" he shrieked. "I won't kill Harry! I won't do it!" He started struggling mentally, trying to force the foreign intrusion from himself. Bryan helped him as best he could and, together, they successfully banished the elder Malfoy's influence.

Malfoy the younger collapsed on the floor of his dungeon room, pushed to the very limits of exhaustion. Bryan was in a similar state, though not quite as sever. He hoisted the older boy onto his shoulders and lay him gently in bed before crossing back to the window.

The climb back up to the Arithmancy room was exponentially more difficult than the climb down had been. Bryan's arms and legs were weak and he barely managed to lift himself over the windowsill without losing his grip. It took far too long for him to return to Gryffindor Tower, especially after spending five minutes hiding from Filch behind a statue of a fat witch name Gwembelin the Unctuous. By the time he finally reached the Fat Lady, he was more than ready for another night's sleep.

"Bryan!" Hermione's anxious voice cut through his fatigue. "Bryan, where's Harry? He should be back by now, shouldn't he?"

"He's in the hospital wing," Bryan sighed heavily, "Malfoy was under some mind control spell and didn't know it. He was forced to stab Harry, but I got him to the hospital wing on time. I've already seen Malfoy, Ron, and we got rid of the spell and now I'm tired, so if you'll please excuse me, I'd like to go to bed." Blinking in astonishment at the abruptness of Bryan's summary, neither Hermione nor Ron stopped him as he moved past them and up the stairs.