The Domino Effect

Voldemort sat on hironerone, Wormtail behind and slightly to the left of him, while the other Death Eaters slowly made their way forward on hands and knees to kiss the hem of his robe and swear fealty. After the last of them had crawled back to his place and the chamber was silent, he stood, and, looking down with malice, addressed his followers. "What news is there of young Malfoy?"

"And why is that, Goyle? Is your son so incompetent that he couldn'llowllow one simple order and bring Malfoy into the plan?"

Goyle shook his head in fear. "No, my Lord. Malfoy disappeared after the game, the boys thought it was best to go on without him."

Voldemort stepped down from his dais and approached the quivering man in front of him. "And did they forget," he hissed, "that this was a test of young Draco's loyalty? Did they not think it better to wait until Malfoy was present?" Voldemort didn't wait for an answer, instead he raised his wand and pointed it at Goyle.

"CRUCIO!"

~!~

There were some things that Severus Snape hated about his life. Teaching children who had no appreciation for his gift was one of them, bowing down to Voldemort was another. He had been on his way to see the Headmaster when he'd been summoned, and so now, instead of talking to Dumbledore about what was going on with Draco and Harry, he was kneeling on a cold stone floor, watching as Goyle Senior thrashed under the Cruciatus curse.

The impromptu meeting had at least quelled some of his fears for Draco's safety, but it raised a few for Potter's. He would be happy when the boy finally got over himself and just ended this whole bloody thing. As his teacher, trainer, and fellow Order member, Snape knew that Harry was more than ready to face Voldemort, that when the inevitable happened, Potter would be victorious.

The boy just had to get over his own morals and realize that it wasn't about him, that there were other people involved. If it made him a murderer to walk up to the Dark Lord and kill him outright, did his inability to do just that not also make him a murderer? Was he not responsible for every life that Voldemort and his followers took by simply not acting? Did the blood that coated Snape's hands not also coat Potter's?

Snape's musings were cut short as Voldemort lifted the curse from Goyle and fixed his beady red eyes on him instead.

"Severus," he hissed, "come forward."

Snape crawled to his master's feet and then waited, eyes downcast.

"It has come to my attention that you have punished my initiates for their actions on the Potter boy. Why is that?"

Snape managed to look contrite as he lifted his eyes from the floor. "They were sloppy. They left Potter still tied in the change room; they didn't even conceal themselves. If I hadn't happened by when I did and found the boy - not to mention Obliviate him - he could have gone to Dumbledore. Then the students would have been expelled, or put in Azkaban. They needed to be taughtessoesson."

Voldemort smiled - a particularly scary sight on a man with no lips - and Snape wondered if he were about to be cursed. "Indeed they did, Severus. You have done well."

Snape bowed to Voldemort. "Thank you, my Lord."

Voldemort turned and walked back to his throne. "You are all dismissed."

The members of the throng all silently climbed to their feet and began to leave the room. Snape was just clearing the doorway when he heard Voldemort call to Crabbe, for him to remain behind. He shook his head and rolled his eyes as he heard Voldemort's shout of "Crucio", followed by the pain-filled screams of Crabbe senior.

~!~

Breakfast that morning was a subdued event at the Gryffindor table. Harry was lost in thought, Ron was silently fuming over Harry's outright refusal to talk to him about whatever was bothering him, Seamus and Dean were having a whispered conversation between bites of food and glances at Harry, and Hermione was watching Harry with a suspicious look in her eye. The only one not currently staring, whispering, or silently fuming, was Neville. Instead, he was looking at Harry with something akin to sympathy in his eyes.

After finally falling asleep, Harry had dragged himself out of bed an hour and a half later and made his way into the bathroom. After showering and getting dressed, he left the dorm and headed down to breakfast. He didn't wait for Ron and Hermione like he usually did; he was still thinking about his conversation with Malfoy, and how it had changed what he believed in. Not that he was going to run out and pledge allegiance to Voldemort or his cause, but it made him take a good long look at Dumbledore's policies on muggleborns and he had to admit that they had their flaws.

It was people like Hermithatthat made Harry support Dumbledore's policies on muggleborn witches and wizards; she was brilliant, powerful, and had taken to being a witch like a duck takes to water. If all muggleborns acclimated the way Hermione did, there wouldn't be any problems. But they didn't.

He only had to look over at Finch-Fletchley to see the truth behind tho thoughts. Justin was a muggleborn and half-decent wizard, but he still held fast to his muggle upbringing, his prejudices and beliefs. He would never fully integrate himself into Wizard society, he didn't want to. Harry had never believed Justin to be anything other than a decent bloke, but last summer had proved to him how easily he could be deceived.

It had been the day after Harry's seventeenth birthday; normally he would have spent this time with the Weasleys, but this year, as he was now of age, he'd had other plans. He'd gotten tickets to see Puddlemere United play the Cannons and he was looking forward to seeing Oliver Wood again. In fact, it had been Oliver who'd sent the tickets, as well as a dinner invitation for after the game. Harry had been both nervous and excited. He'd known what this meant, since the last time he'd seen Oliver, the older boy had told him he was only waiting for Harry to grow up before he asked him out.

The game had been great; Puddlemere had trounced the Cannons - as expected, and when Oliver finally emerged from the change rooms he'd pulled Harry into a fierce hug and then kissed him soundly on the mouth. Harry had been surprised but not in the least bit offended and when they pulled apart, he'd seen Justin standing a little ways away, a look of pure disgust on his face.

Harry had spent a lot of time with Oliver over the remainder of the summer, he went to all his games, and on several occasions he'd seen Justin there as well. He even tried to talk to the other boy once, but within seconds it was obvious that Justin wanted nothing to do with him, even going so far as to tell Harry he was revolted by his actions and that his relationship with Oliver was abnormal and obscene.

Harry had told Oliver about that later, figuring that he would tell him not to worry about it and therefore make Harry feel better about the whole thing.hadnhadn't expected Oliver to get worried about what Justin might say and to whom. It was the beginning of the end of Harry and Oliver's relationship. By the end of the summer, Oliver had broken things off with apologies and excuses, but Harry knew the truth, his fame would always be an obstacle in any relationship he had.

He'd Obliviated Justin the first day back to school.

~!~

Hermione watched as Harry looked around the Hall. His gaze landed ostinstin Finch-Fletchley and she was surprised at the look of malice that crossed her friend's face. She had no idea that Harry had had any problems with the Hufflepuff boy. In fact, she didn't think Harry had problems with anyone other than Malfoy, and by the looks of things, those had been put to rest.

Tearing her eyes away from her study of Harry, Hermione looked toward the Slytherin table and wasn't surprised in the least to find that Malfoy was watching Harry. In fact, he seemed to be looking between Harry and Justin with something of a questioning look on his face. Hermione wondered, had Harry been seeing Justin? Or perhaps, had Malfoy? Was this the reason for the animosity, or was it something else entirely? It suddenly occurred to her that she really had no idea who Harry was nowadays. That he'd been keeping things from her and Ron since the summer after Sirius died. Harry was supposed to be one of her best friends and yet she didn't feel as if she knew him at all anymore.

~!~

Ron Weasley might not be the smartest wizard to ever attend Hogwarts, hell, he might even have been one of the dumbest as far as academic standards went, but he knew people. And he knew Harry. At least, he used to.

After school had ended in fifth year, they had all boarded the train, Harry going back to those horrible muggles, and Ron had made Harry promise to write, and to come spend the last week of summer with him - as was tradition. Harry had agreed somewhat reluctantly, and Ron, knowing that his friend was going through hell at the time, had let it go.

The letters from Harry were few and far between that summer, and when he'd finally shown up at the Burrow in August, he was like a ghost of his former self. He spent most of his time sitting under the huge tree out back and staring up at the sky.

Mrs. Weasley had done her best to pull him out of his funk; she had cooked his favourites, talked to him often and finally after a very long day in which Harry hadn't spoken one word to anyone, taken him aside and just wrapped her arms around him until he let it out and cried into her shoulder. Ron had watched from the stairs feeling both relieved that Harry was finally showing some emotion, and distressed that he hadn't been the one to comform.

When they'd gone back to school, Harry had still been quiet, but eventually he started to talk with the others, and even laugh again. Ron had been so happy to have his best mate back that he had let slide all the little things that Harry did, or did not do, that were out of character.

Quidditch had resumed and Harry had taken to the sky with a fierce determination that Ron had chalked up to Malfoy having received a Firebolt, and Harry wanting tove ove himself the superior seeker. In fact, he never even questioned Harry about his congratulatinlfoylfoy on a good game after the Slytherins had beaten them in their first game of the season.

Now that Ron looked back on it, he could see so many things that had happened in sixth year, and more so in this year, that he couldn't explain. Harry had become almost... superficial. Like he was playing the part of Harry Potter. Ron wondered if he even knew who his best friend was anymore.

Over the Christmas hols of sixth year, Harry had stayed at the Burrow with him and Hermione. Charlie and Bill had both come home, and even Percy had come back for a couple of days - things were still strained between the family and Percy but they were working on it. Harry had been more himself that week than he had been all year previously. He'd spent a lot of time with Charlie, talking about dragons and whatnot, and even though Ron was slightly put out about it, he was too happy to see Harry acting more like his old self to get too bent out of shape about it.

About a week after they'd been back at school, Harry's behaviour took a turn for the worse again. One minute he had been fine, sitting and laughing with Seamus and Neville, and then the next, he was reading a letter an owl had dropped on his plate, and frowning. He'd left the Hall right after that, and hadn't smiled or laughed, or even talked to anyone for weeks. The only time Harry smiled at all after that had been while he was flying.

Having never lost a family member, neither Ron nor Hermione knew what to do. Eventually they had sought out Dumbledore and told him of their concerns. He had explained that Harry just needed time to come to terms with Sirius's loss, and that eventually, he would be their Harry again. Placated, Ron and Hermione had left Harry to his own devices and waited for the day their friend came back to them. They must have gotten used to the new, quiet, reserved Harry, for eventually they stoppeticiticing that he was withdrawn at times, and that even when he was laughing with them, and joining in with his dorm mates - whether it was in pranking the Slytherins or just sharing stories and jokes - that his smile never reached his eyes, and his laughter wasn't as joyous as it had been in times past.

But now, as Ron thought about it, it was all crystal clear. It wasn't just Sirius's death that had hurt Harry, although that had been the starting point. Something, or someone, else had done something to break Harry's heart last year.

He knew what had happened between Harry and Oliver over the summer, and he had even offered to beat the hell out of Wood for hurting Harry. But Harry wouldn't hear of it, he said he oka okay with it, that he didn't blame Oliver, he had his career to think about after all and dating Harry Potter would only make him a target. Not only for Death Eaters, but for every anti-gay witch or wizaut tut there. Ron had conceded the point and the subject never came up again. Harry hadn't dated since, and Ron, being somewhat uncomfortable with Harry's homosexuality, hadn't tried to breach the subject.

As he thought all this through, Ron's temper gradually decreased. There was no reason for him to be angry with Harry. He was just ash toh to blame for the rift in their friendship, if not more so. And if he lost Harry to Malfoy, well, then it was his own fault. If Malfoy could make Harrypy apy again, then as his friend, Ron would step aside. It was the least he could do, after all.

~!~

Still lost in thought, and inadvertently staring at Justin, Harry reached inside his robe and touched his wand. He thought about the disgusted look on Justin's face, and before he really gave it much thought, he was inside Justin's mind. A few well placed thoughts and Harry watched in amusement as Justin stood and walked toward the end of the table.

~!~

Ernie Macmillan didn't know what hit him. One minute he was talking with a group of other students and the next he was being snogged senseless by Justin Finch-Fletchley. He finally managed to push the other boy off of him and get to his feet, but it was too late. The entire Hall was watching them.

"What the hell is your damage, Justin?" Ernie screamed, "I'm not like that!"

Ernie looked at the slightly taller boy in disgust and tstorstormed out of the Hall. Harry watched with a sick sort of glee as Justin's face flamed red in embarrassment before he too fled the Hall, turning the opposite direction of Ernie.

Over at the Slytherin table, several people were snickering about the scene they had just witnessed. Draco, who had been watching Harry since he'd sat down that morning, was the only one who knew what exactly had happened. He waited until Harry looked up and caught his eye before winking at him and nodding his approval. Life at Hogwarts was about to become very entertaining.

~!~