Playing the Fool

Chapter Three

The Boy Who Might Break

He had never felt worse in his life.

There was no way to describe it, either. It was like waking up after an immensely long nap. It was like taking a breath of air after being underwater for long enough to drown. It was like being a human and an animal at the same time.

The last one came closest to it. He was Harry James Potter, he knew this much. He was an orphan, and spent his childhood living with his aunt and uncle, the Dursley's. He came to Hogwarts. He met Ron and Hermione. He defeated Lord Voldemort. And again. And again. And -

And other than that, all he knew was that for what had felt like an eternity for him, he had been living as an owl.

But it didn't make sense to him. It had been Malfoy that had jolted him awake, or out of the mindset of the owl. Malfoy's snarky comments had made him remember that there was more to him than chasing mice and snakes and frogs and sleeping in barns. The empty feeling had been something that had bothered him when he was an owl, though it had never been quite as clear. Hedwig had also helped him fill part of the giant gap that had plagued his mind. She had brought him back here.

But there was still another hole somewhere in there, he knew it. Malfoy had made a comment to him, something about Umbridge that had made it sound like they were still in fifth year. That couldn't be, Harry knew that much. Because Harry could remember fifth year - the centaurs, and being banned from Quidditch, and his O.W.L's, and...Sirius.

And that was where it ended. The last clear memory Harry had was of his conversation with Dumbledore at the end of his fifth year, and...then the owl.

He felt completely disoriented. He was human again, of course. But somewhere inside of him there was still an owl flying around. It put him on edge; it made him wary of even people like Hermione and Ron. At the beginning when he was around other people, he could feel the owl taking over and had usually ended up in the corner cowering. It required an amount of energy that he did not possess to try and gather enough self-control to overtake the owl and make himself human again.

It was terribly like schizophrenia, and he hated it. The only thing he could do was to continue fighting it. At least after a week, he could sense that it was much easier to do.

He could feel himself winning, too. There were moments that made him recoil almost as if he was hit, he remembered things so vividly. The moments were cloudy, usually, but little by little the pieces were coming back.

The only bad thing about this was that it was usually Malfoy who made him remember these things. He seemed almost twenty times worse than Harry could remember him ever being...and the strange thing was that no one reacted to it. Hermione and Ron would only share a look. By this time, Harry had given up on waiting for Ron to make a comment about Malfoy's ferret-like nature, or his Death Eater father. As much as he had expected them in the beginning, they never came.

That was the first thing that he noticed that was alarmingly different. That had been only the first day, and he had no time to notice any of the other things.

Like the fact that a man that they called Remus Lupin was there in the room with them that first night, and he was in the castle every night...but never during the day. But this man looked nothing like the Remus Lupin that Harry remembered.

Or like the fact that Ron and Hermione were always holding hands, and all of them (including Harry himself) looked far older than sixteen years old.

Or like the fact that he hadn't once seen Albus Dumbledore.

And, of course...the fact that except for Lupin, Malfoy, Professor McGonagall, Ron, Hermione, Neville, and himself...the Hogwarts castle was completely deserted.

After a week, these questions were more than just plaguing him. They drove him insane. When he tried to sleep at night in Gryffindor tower with the familiar snores of Ron and Neville, it was all he could think of. He knew he was being lied to. Even the owl in him could tell, and he often found himself on guard instead of trying to shrink away from the people he was with.

Something had obviously happened. There was a reason that Harry could sense a giant gap in his own memories, why everyone seemed so much older than they said they were. The only conclusion Harry could come to was the most obvious one - Voldemort. Obviously, Hogwarts had been evacuated, and Dumbledore had taken the other students to a safer place. Or maybe, he had taken them to an alternate location, and this was where they were being held to stay safe. And the owl thing? After a few sleepless nights debating the subject, Harry had come to the conclusion that Voldemort had transfigured him into an owl and somehow forced him away from the Wizarding world in an attempt to take it over. It was plausible - his most trusted servant had transfigured Malfoy into a ferret, hadn't he?

But obviously Voldemort's attempt had been in vain, Harry could only conclude. After all, he was here, wasn't he? With all of the others, while Dumbledore took the rest of the school to a better, safer location. Or so he assumed. It still didn't make sense, though, the bizarre way the others were treating him.

The clearer the memories became for him, the more he could see how ridiculous most of them were being. He had the distinct impression that Malfoy felt the same way, but he was still suspicious of Malfoy, above all. If this was truly a safe location, why was he here? He was basically the son of Evil itself. Or Lucius Malfoy, not too much of a difference.

But still. Malfoy, at least, didn't look like he was going to either burst into tears or be sick every time he saw him, like Hermione. It was a look that made Harry's chest clench up in both anger and sadness. This was Hermione, for God's sake. She was his best friend, she had no reason to be looking at him like that. And if she did, he didn't know what it was.

Then again, she wasn't really worse than Ron. At least she didn't tiptoe around him, making him feel once again like the Boy Who Might Break. Honestly, whatever it was that had happened to Harry had turned Ron into a verifiable Mrs. Weasley. He was continually making him cups of tea, and had one day even offered to knit him a sweater if he was cold. Now, Harry had been along with Hermione in wishing that Ron was more sensitive to people's feelings, but this was just ridiculous. He had been too tempted to join in with Malfoy's mocking, which this time primarily consisted of jokes about twisted Gryffindor courting rituals.

And then there was Neville, a disaster in his own right. At least he was the same as Harry remembered...but that didn't make it any better. If there was one person that could startle Harry enough to make him spontaneously change back into owl form, it was Neville. It seemed like all the progress that Harry began to make on calming his nerves, Neville somehow shot down. Whether it was blowing things up with his wand, or knocking over an entire stack of books...it usually took everyone in the castle to bring Harry back to his human form. He of course felt slightly embarrassed about it much later, but that was only after he could get the owl out of his instincts and calm himself. Needless to say, he had taken to avoiding Neville nearly altogether.

Though, it seemed like the two adults in the castle were doing the same thing to him. He had never seen Lupin there during the day, a fact that didn't cease to confuse him. And Professor McGonagall, who he noticed would never meet his eye and seemed never to stay in the same room with him for any longer than absolutely necessary. And speaking to him was completely out of the question, it seemed. If he was suspicious of Malfoy, then he was outright apprehensive about the two adults. Their behavior to him was even shadier than Ron's insistence on seeing that Harry had two blankets at night.

It was disturbing, above all, to know that Malfoy was the only one treating him the same at all. A meeting in the hall did not go by without a comment from the Slytherin about Harry's dead parents or a new derogatory nickname. And somehow, Harry found himself waiting for it, anticipating it, and relishing it. It felt so much better to have someone treat him like Harry Potter, instead of as the Boy Who Lived. He had thought that Hermione, Ron, Neville, and the adults were among those who would never do that. But apparently he was wrong. And now he was finding solace in the depraved comments of Draco Malfoy. It was positively twisted.

Every time he began to think about these things, he felt the knot in his stomach tightening. And still no one would answer his questions. Harry Potter, as famed as he was, had the infuriating habit of never being able to get anyone to listen to him. At least, that was how he saw it.

But it wasn't going to stay that way. Harry had given up on being tactful and gracious, he remembered that much from fifth year. And he'd be damned if he was going to let that happen now, when there was obviously so much going on that Ron Weasley was asking him if he needed a box of tissues by his bed.

Someone was going to have to own up to it all, and fast.

***

"No! I will not!"

Draco slammed his quill down, his head snapping up at the shrill noise. If there was one downside to the castle being completely empty besides them, it was that noise carried unbelievably. There had never been noise as such before Harry, but now that he was here, it seemed like there was never any silence without his whimpering and shouting if anyone tried to come near him. He was either deathly afraid of them, or showering them with questions - half of which were so incoherent, Draco was apt to up and leave halfway through a sentence. It was bloody ridiculous. Draco was only glad that he slept in the dungeons, and not up in Gryffindor tower like the rest of them.

"Harry, please, dear, just - "

"NO!"

Draco slammed the book shut. He was never going to get any research done, not with Hermione squealing almost as loud as Harry himself. Grabbing his wand from where he had left it on the table next to him, he stalked out of the library and headed towards that insufferable noise. His pace was brisk as he approached the classroom where Harry and Hermione had been "having a chat," as she had put it.

Having a chat, my arse, he thought to himself as he entered the room. He's loud enough to have a conversation with the house elves down in the kitchen.

He found them standing by the door, both looking very furious. Draco had to actually do a double take when he saw the look on Harry's face. But of course, being Draco Malfoy, he recovered quite quickly.

"Don't look at me like that Potter, they haven't yet discovered a spell that will enable looks to kill." He said coolly, feeling that familiar rush of glee as the crease in Harry's forehead deepened.

"Draco, I need your help." He turned to look at Hermione as she addressed him with a great deal of exasperation in her voice.

"Since when do you call him Draco?!" Harry shouted, and Draco quickly flickered his gaze towards him. Honestly, he was right. The others weren't exactly being discreet in their treatment of each other, what with Ron and Hermione snogging left and right, and -

But that wasn't the point. Draco quickly tumbled out a quick insult at Potter, amazed at the promptness of his verbal abuses. He hadn't lost his touch! "Potter, really, that shade of purple does nothing for your complexion. You'd want to take a bit more care, not every girl goes for the grape look like Chang does."

Harry's eyes narrowed, but he allowed Draco the time to turn to Hermione and address her, and the problem she seemed to be having.

"Come now, Granger. I haven't got all day, tell me your problem so I can solve it in half the time it would take any of you Gryffindors, once again proving my house's superiority."

He saw her eyes flicker with obvious irritation, but she ignored the jibe. "He won't take a bath, Draco. He hasn't had one since...well, since he came. And...and we all think that he should probably take one."

Draco didn't need her to say anything else. He felt annoyance flare up inside of him as he turned to Harry once again. Honestly, they were even sinking low enough to try and get him to use his trademark scathing comments as an inducement. It was nearly insulting.

"Potter, that's ridiculous. You realize that you've been spending the last who know's how long as an owl, and you, in reality, probably haven't had a bath in far longer than a week. It's no wonder that the house elves refuse to clean your things, you smell as if you've been sleeping in a trough for the last four years. Now, I understand that the stench may be something that you associate with your Muggle relatives, and this may all be a sort of ritual you perform every time you get homesick, but this is becoming a bit ludicrous. Even Mudblood here can get past your Muggle customs and bathe like us normal wizards."

He noticed Hermione's slight wince, but ignored it as best as he could. Harry, of course, responded just as he had expected him to. Predictability was a beautiful thing.

"Shut up, Malfoy. Don't talk about her like that." The black-haired boy snarled, stepping closer to him.

Draco quickly took a step back, raising a hand to cover his mouth briefly. "Good lord, Potter. I had no idea it had gotten that bad. Please, go take a bath now. The last thing we need is Granger going on another spew crusade because the elves drop dead from your stench."

"It's S.P.E.W.!" Hermione answered hotly, her indignation getting the best of her. It seemed to be this, however, that finally calmed Harry down. He had obviously not been dealing well with the idea of Hermione going to the dreaded Malfoy for help.

"None of you are answering my questions, and I'm not going anywhere until you do." Somewhere deep down, Draco felt a bit of relief. It was the closest to his old self that Harry had sounded the entire time he had been here, which was at least refreshing. After all, they had signed on for the Golden Boy, not Crazy Owl Boy.

"Potter, I understand that you believe that the world revolves around you, but I assure you, it is only the house of Gryffindor that bows to your every word. And as I am not a part of that particularly fine establishment, I must be the one to tell you that by all things worshipped under the sun, you do stink, and you need to take a bath." Draco used his hands to emphasize choice words, narrowing his eyes at the Insufferable Scar-Headed National Hero.

Harry opened his mouth. And then he closed it. He shot Draco a glare, before straightening his back to stand at his full height - eye to eye with the Slytherin. Draco felt himself meeting his gaze and holding it, staring back with the same harsh intensity that had marked his entire time at Hogwarts. Finally, Harry broke contact by glaring at Hermione.

"Fine. I'll go. But when I get back, I expect you to answer me. I want to know what is going on." He snapped, before turning on his heel and heading towards Gryffindor tower and their showers.

The moment he was out of sight, Hermione turned to Draco and gripped the sleeves of his robes. "Thank you so much. Honestly Draco, it's a nightmare, I've no idea how to deal with him, I -"

"Mmm." Draco murmured, still staring after the door that Harry had passed through only a few moments ago. "And you don't think he's right, at all?"

A perplexed expression flickered across Hermione's face, and she slowly let go of Draco's robes, taking a step back. "What do you mean?"

He tore his gaze away from the door and instead regarded her. "You don't think that he has a point? You don't think that we should do something about all of this, so he doesn't think that we're sixth years, or whatever it is? It's ridiculous. We want him to save the world, and we won't even tell him what has happened in the last five years of his life."

Hermione was staring at him with a great deal of uncertainty. "Draco, we couldn't tell him that. There's no knowing how he would react! You know Harry, sometimes he reacts quite - violently, and..."

"So you won't tell him because you're afraid he's going to kill us all?" He couldn't help but snort. The idea that Harry Potter might do anything besides the prescribed noble deed was still ludicrous to him.

"No, I just think that he might do something stupid if we tell him everything that's been going on." Draco could sense that tone in her voice again. She was speaking to him as if she were trying to teach him something, as if he were a student and she was the teacher. She was treating him like Ron.

"It is my knowledge that Harry only does things deemed 'stupid' when he doesn't know what's going on." Draco was careful to use the steeliest tone possible, obviously compensation for the behavior Hermione had just treated him with.

It seemed to have some effect, because she grimaced at him. "You sound like Professor Snape."

"Well, someone has to be the voice of reason." He couldn't stop himself from sounding haughty. Somewhere in all of this, he had become distinctly angry. He couldn't tell if it was Harry's complete ineptitude at being alive, or everyone else's complete disregard for that which was logical. Either way, continuing this argument with Hermione was not helping a bit.

"I have research to be doing, thank you very much." He gave her a curt nod before turning around and leaving the room, heading towards the library from which he had come.

Again, he didn't know what he had expected. Maybe he had thought that with the flash of light that returned Harry to his true form, he would have also transformed into a fearless leader that could break the rest of the Aurors out of Azkaban, and rally troops to their cause in the blink of an emerald-green eye. Maybe he expected that this Harry would greet him with open arms, instead of dumping him back into his role as the nemesis. He knew one thing, though - he hadn't expected to feel so useless. Not only as an individual, but as part of the Order of the Phoenix as a whole.

Something needed to happen, and quickly. He knew that once Harry got out of the bath, no one would answer his questions. But this type of thing couldn't go on forever. And Draco had the sneaking suspicion that when the time came, he would be the one to fix things for them again. That seemed to be happening a lot lately.

Well, he had always said that the Malfoy charm was good for some things.