Why Do You Love Me?

Harry climbed the steps toward Gryffindor Tower tiredly at the end of the day. He really wasn’t looking forward to seeing Malfoy tonight, and he was reduced to a nervous wreck because of it, being jumpy in classes and nearly falling asleep from the strain it put on him.

He hadn’t thrown up since Draco had caught him, and he felt empty. On a regular day, he was up to doing it at least five times, and he was missing it incredibly. Of course, he hadn’t exactly stuffed himself full of food, and he didn’t want to digest it, but frankly, he had no choice, especially if Draco deemed it proper to leave Number 12 at any time he pleased to check up on Harry.

Voices stopped Harry in his tracks, ironically just around the corner from the portrait of the Fat Lady, whom was being joined by a rather old looking woman wearing her silver hair up in a tight bun, and an incredibly whorish amount of makeup. Her tatty red dress clung to her saggy body sickeningly, and feathers adorned her shoulders, serving as a scarf of sorts. She and the Fat Lady gossiped excitedly with each other, the old woman prancing about the portrait merrily as the Fat Lady babbled on about something. Harry was hardly in earshot to hear, but as he crept forward, what she was saying became clearer.

“…Well, he seems a perfectly good boy, but I do wish he would eat more. Sir Malcolm and I were talking just the other day, and it seems that he hasn’t been eating at all as it is, and has been throwing up whatever manages its way down his throat. He has seemed a bit sickly lately, but I just thought it was because he didn’t get out much this summer.”

“Yes, well, I believe he’ll try another attempt at his life before the years out. I’ve been speaking with Mrs. Black, and she says that he locked himself up in a bathroom, he did, and slit his wrists. You would never have thought him to be the type, would you?” the old woman screeched gleefully, seating herself on the ground and plucking some of the beautifully painted flowers.

Just then, the Fat Lady glared and addressed Harry, who had realized a second too late that he was creeping a bit too close to the portrait to be considered passerby. “Weren’t you told that it’s not appropriate to eavesdrop, young man?”

Harry flushed bright red and averted his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, sticking his hands deeply into his pockets.

The Fat Lady stared at him primly from her position above him. “Yes, very well. Don’t do it again, however, or Albus will be hearing from me. Password?”

Harry blushed furiously and mumbled the password quickly. The Fat Lady looked him up and down calculatingly, then creaked open with a nod.

As Harry disappeared into the commons, he could faintly hear the Fat Lady saying, “Yes, he has gotten rather skinny, hasn’t he?”

…
…
…

Thirty Minutes Earlier…

Lady Elizabeth slowly but stealthily made her way through multiple portraits, hot on the tail of one Boy Who Lived. She had been assigned to look after him ever since he had come back to school this year, and had been rather amazed by some of the things she had witnessed him doing. One would never suspect the portraits of watching him, and after having a long talking to with Mrs. Black, they had devised a plan to keep him under watch at all times of the day.

Some portrait residents even went so far as to take over the muggle portraits of some weird sports team or another hung up all around the Gryffindor boys’ dorm room by one of Harry’s roommates. It was quite trying to stay still at all hours of day and night, in order not to be noticed. But those that volunteered were great at it, and though sometimes Ron was caught staring suspiciously when they sneezed or itched their noses, no one else noticed at all, and Ron was keen to brush it off, so as not to be thought loony.

It had been a close call when Harry had caught the mermaid from the prefects’ bathroom flopping her tail about showily in the boys’ bathroom, but she remained there, and Harry just brushed it off as her being reassigned posts. Portraits were known to move about of their own accord, especially at Hogwarts.

The portrait people had adopted Harry as their own son, and were quite protective of him. It saddened them to watch day after day, hour after hour, as he dug himself in deeper. But they had no one to tell, and they didn’t know if it would be smart to bring Dumbledore or anyone else into it. Harry seemed keen to handle it himself, but he currently wasn’t doing a very good job at it, although the young Malfoy boy had prodded him into stopping before it developed into a habit.

Lady Elizabeth walked through one last portrait before coming to a stop in her own. Her long, white-blonde hair flowed over her pale shoulders and into her face like a waterfall of the sheerest water, and her deep blue eyes glimmered smartly.

Harry passed her portrait a number of times before stopping in front of her, a calculating look on his face. “Hermione says I need help,” he muttered to himself, continuing to pace back and forth.

Lady Elizabeth smiled. “Did you ever consider the fact that she may be right?” she asked knowingly.

Harry looked up at her, shocked. “Wh…what?”

“She may be right, Harry,” Lady Elizabeth murmured, her eyes gleaming.

“How do you know my name?” Harry asked, staring at her suspiciously.

Lady Elizabeth just smiled mysteriously.

“Who are you?” Harry asked apprehensively after a few minutes of silence. He stopped pacing and stared at her, his eyes hooded.

“My name,” Lady Elizabeth said, swooping her arms out in a grand gesture. “Is Lady Elizabeth. My painter was Gregory Spencer, and I was twenty-two years of age at painting. I have been here at Hogwarts since 1412. I first resided in the Great Hall, but things have since changed, and I now reside here, in the Room of Requirement.”

Lady Elizabeth raised her eyebrows, her eyes gleaming knowingly, and Harry stared up at her.

“Impossible,” Harry muttered, mostly to himself than anyone else. Then, to her, he said, “That’s impossible. You cannot reside here, not willingly, at least. The Room of Requirement only houses what I require. Nothing more,” Harry shook his head, his eyebrows creased in thought.

“Perhaps, Mister Potter,” Lady Elizabeth interrupted his thoughts. “You required me,”

Harry stared at her, one eyebrow inclined. “Impossible,” he muttered once again, and stalked out of the room.

Lady Elizabeth watched him go silently, and waited a few moments before following.

…
…
…

Ron greeted Harry warmly. “Hey, Harry. Who do you suppose the new DADA teacher will be, eh?”

Harry blinked at Ron. “Huh?”

Ron smiled brightly and hit Harry in the shoulder softly. “You know, mate. The new Defence teacher. Who do you think it’s going to be?”

Harry shrugged. “Well, I don’t know. I mean there wasn’t anyone new at the table, and Dumbledore didn’t say anything.”

Hermione came up behind him, slinging an arm around his shoulders. “Well, I guess we’ll find out next then, huh?”

Harry stared at her. “Classes are over, ‘Mione,” he said, brow wrinkled.

Hermione smiled, though it looked a bit forced and pained. “This is a free hour,” she said, pity shining in her eyes. “We still have Defence. Then classes are over, Harry.”

Harry sighed. “Yeah,” he said dejectedly. “I guess I just forgot.”

Ron slapped him on the back, smirking. “That’s all right, mate. You aren’t expected to memorize your schedule yet, we’ve only been back for two days.”

Harry smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Feels like a year already, doesn’t it? I’m so bloody tired, I can only imagine what it’s going to be like when we finally make it to NEWTs.”

Ron nodded and slumped into a chair. “You’re telling me,” he said. “Do you know how bloody difficult it is to turn a pillow into a Puffskein? Seamus nearly blew my head off earlier today, not to mention the fact that we have a two foot long essay on ‘proper wand etiquette’ due on Thursday because of it!”

Harry eyed Ron with sympathy, tossing himself onto a rather plush couch and refusing to move, even when Hermione prodded him in the side so she could sit next to him.

“I managed to transfigure the pillow without much difficulty,” Hermione stated, frustration showing in her eyes as she sat in an empty seat next to Ron with a huff and meaningful look towards Harry.

“Yes,” Ron raved. “But that’s because you’re you! You can’t possibly expect me to transfigure anything, especially after such a long break wandless!”

Hermione raised an eyebrow pointedly and Ron sighed. “You know what I mean. What are we ever going to need a Puffskein for, anyway? I mean, we can just go out and buy one! I don‘t see how transfiguring one is any different.”

Hermione shook her head. “Harry managed to do it fine, too.”

Harry nodded but didn’t say anything, staring into the fireplace thoughtfully.

The fire flickered, and Harry jumped. He could have sworn he had seen Malfoy’s head just seconds before.

A second glance confirmed that it was only the fire, and there was no one in it. Harry sighed and rested his head on the armrest. “I’m becoming paranoid,” he muttered to himself.

“What was that, Harry?” Hermione asked, looking at Harry expectantly. Harry shook his head and Hermione watched him suspiciously.

“Nothing, ‘Mione. I’ve just been really tired lately. I can’t believe how long today has been,”

Hermione smiled. “You just wait until NEWTs. You’ll wish you were dead,” she said with a slight smirk. “I’ve heard some very interesting stories about what has happened in the past.”

Ron eyed her suspiciously. “You’re going to smother us with studying, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice holding an especially hopeless note to it.

Hermione just grinned and said nothing, causing Harry and Ron to groan in unison. Ron fell out of his seat and rolled about on the ground, clutching his side in mock pain as he groaned, “No! Anything but that! Save me!”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Oh, shove off! It’s not going to be that bad.”

Harry watched the scene unfold with arms crossed and a light smile adorning his lips. Things were finally going back to normal.

…
…
…

Loud laughter filled the room, along with voices of multiple students, chattering merrily away. Balls and wads of parchment flew merrily across the room at explosive speeds, hitting anyone and everyone in the head with it. There was quite a large amount of students in Defense this year. Harry wondered if it was a good thing.

Out of nowhere, a ball of parchment hit him in the back of his head. Harry looked over his shoulder to see a Hufflepuff, whom he didn’t know, waving coyly at him and gesturing at the ball. Harry sighed and threw it back at her.

Apparently, there was only one Defense class this year, and all of the houses had been put together as a result. The teacher must be a very busy person.

All of a sudden, there was a creaking noise at the back of the room, and silence came over the class like a heavy, wet blanket thrown over a flame.

A young looking, pale witch bustled towards the front of the room silently, clutching a briefcase tightly to her chest, her head bowed so that no one could see her facial features. Her robes swished quickly as she made her way up to the front, and stopped immediately as she turned around. Familiar red hair fanned out as she turned, to settle neatly at her shoulders, slick, straight and glistening.

Harry’s breath caught in his throat as brown eyes alighted upon him and sparkled knowingly, a slight smirk twisting the perfect lips up towards her narrow, pointed nose. Alicia was peculiarly glasses-less today as Harry looked her up and down, a snarl at the back of his throat that he refused to let out.

“Hello,” Alicia greeted softly, eyes sweeping the class as a whispered pandemonium slithered throughout the room. She allowed this for a few minutes before she held up a hand. Silence came immediately.

Harry’s eyes blazed as he glared at her, daggers shooting from his eyes before he could hold them back. (Not literal daggers, of course. We wouldn’t want poor Alicia to die, would we? Author snickers…) Half of the class - well, the half that seemed to pay the most attention to him, at least (the Gryffindors) - noticed this, and immediately were on their guard. An enemy of Harry’s, after all, was an enemy of theirs.

“My name,” she stated, before the rest of the class could take notice of Harry’s discomfort. “Is Alicia. You, however, shall address me as Professor Avery.” With that, Alicia began pacing. “I am new, here, as you may have noticed. I was not here for the beginning of the year feast, however, as you may have also noticed. There was an emergency at the Ministry that I had to deal with, but I am here now, to teach you something that we have never worked on here at Hogwarts.”

She stopped pacing and stared at Harry meaningfully as the rest of the class bristled at the word “Ministry”.

Alicia let the silence drag on as she watched her new pupils shift uncomfortably in their seats. At last, Hermione could take no more, and raised her hand.

Alicia’s knowing eyes alighted on Hermione, and she grinned. “Yes, Miss. Granger?”

“What is it?”

“Excuse me?”

“What is it that we’re working on, then?”

“Oh, forgive me. I was taking the time to examine my students. And you all,” Alicia began pacing once more as her eyes surveyed the students. “Look like a bright bunch. You should be able to master this in no time.”

She stopped pacing pointedly once more, this time directly in front of Harry’s desk. Leaning down, she stared into his eyes deeply, and frowned before moving on. “Wandless magic.”

Once again, whispered pandemonium swept through the room, as Alicia earned many whoops and hollers of appreciation. She grinned.

“However, this is not something that should be taken lightly. We will not be trying it until we know nearly everything there is to know about it. Which is why,” the class managed a disappointed groan at this pause, before Alicia glowered at them and continued on. “You are going to be writing a two foot long essay about what wandless magic is, where it originated from, and why it is useful today, due Thursday of next week. Are there any questions?”

When no one was forthcoming with any questions for her, Alicia nodded and smiled once more. “Class dismissed.”

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A/N: I know, I know, you all hate Alicia. I’m sorry! But you will find that she can be very helpful later on, so maybe your opinions on her will change, yeah? Well, maybe not. She is a little stuck up, isn’t she? (cringe) Well, just keep rotten vegetable throwing to a minimum. I do have to use these fingers to write up chapters, you know!

Now that we're all caught up on this site, all of my fics should be updated around the exact same time on all sites. All problems have also been fixed on FAAR, which is now complete. Keep your eyes peeled for the sequel to that one! (Although it probably won't be coming out any time soon. I have to brush some of the dust off of that one, which may happen when this fic is finished! (Author Grimmaces)