A Power of the Mind and Soul
By: HELLBENTAUTHOR
Chapter 1Exhaustedly, Harry climbed the step to the Gryffindor Common Room. He was drained of all energy after his session with Snape. Twice every week he was mentally assaulted by the Potions Master, who seemed to enjoy the painful lessons, and it was sanctioned by Dumbledore no less.
He'd tried complaining, oh how he had tried, but it seemed that there was no other way to keep Voldemort out than to pit Harry against the only person that hated him as much as Voldemort and could make his life miserable as well.
Even Malfoy didn't hate him that much. Years of interaction showed that his ignorant refusal of Malfoy's hand before the Sorting Ceremony created a jealous rift between the two of them. Then their daily interactions only fueled the growing hate.
He remembered Malfoy's words with his outstretched hand. 'Don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there.' Malfoy could have made a good friend if what their conversation in Madam Malkins was anything to go by. For someone so anal about self-service, he seemed to be very close with his pack of Slytherins. Not that I would ever let myself be run over by someone like him.
But it was in the past. What's done is done. Maybe after the war and there are no "Dark Lords" to kiss the robe of, maybe things would change at Hogwarts. Not that he would be there; he honestly expected to die while trying to defeat the Dark Lord, not for lack of trying. He would give it his all not that Dumbledore or the order seemed to help much.
What was the good of learning to (not) defend his mind from Voldemort, especially when he was not receiving any other form of training on Dumbledore's part or Defense on Umbridge's which, he guessed was also Dumbledore's fault. The most unworthy witch (close) to exist, in existence. He really wished she would trip on her pink shoes onto her pink carpet and stab herself in the throat with that god-forsaken Quill. Rrribbi-… and silence.
It appeared that people were lining up to take swings at him. Umbridge, Voldemort, Malfoy, Fudge, and … Snape. And with how fickle the wizarding world was, he figured they would accuse him of being evil about a hundred more times before he and Voldemort went down. Even his best friend, who seemed to want his "friendship", seemed to enjoy believing the rumors about him. Like with the Tri-Wizard Tournament, wasn't a quality of Gryffindor bravery and trust, he couldn't support his best friend like a best friend should? Maybe he wasn't one.
"Ahem… Would you like to enter dear? You will need to say the password." The Fat Lady smiled down at him politely, but with an exasperated undertone.
Harry started; being lost in his thoughts could have been dangerous. Thank God one of the staircases hadn't moved from in front of him, he would have fall and been the Boy-Who-Went-Splat. "Ophidiophobia," he muttered.
"Good night," she called softly as she opened to grant him access. With a sigh he tumbled through the portrait hole into the mostly empty common room.
Only two people were in the common room. Neville sat the window seat looking at the Cephalanthus in the moonlight. The other person was none other than Hermione Granger, her bushy hair barely seen over the back of the arm chair she sat in, fully distracted by the book she was currently reading.
Neville looked over as the passage shut behind him. "Hey Harry, long night? You know, you don't look too well, are you feeling okay? Maybe you should get some sleep."
Neville, Neville. The DA meetings were doing wonders for him. "Yeah, it's been a rough day, Monday and all. I probably will hit the sack. You know how Snape is and how horrifying one-on-one "remedial potions" would be. I'm exhausted and haven't really felt like a diamond since before the school year." And it was true well not the remedial potions part. Dudley had tripped him on the stairs on his birthday and he hadn't been feeling right since. His body felt weird and he was much more hungry than normal.
"Well good night, Harry."
"Good night, Neville." He looked over to Hermione, she hadn't budged, but that was Hermione. He yawned. Walking to the staircase he began to climb to the 5th year boys dormitory. The other boys were there. Dean and Seamus were talking and joking quietly at their bunks. Ron was flipping through a Quidditch magazine, the chaser for the Chudley Cannons and some other obscure team zipping around the cover.
Ron looked up at him before continuing to flip through the magazine. Just like last year, Harry thought. We try to work it out and everything sounds okay, but no matter what happens he will never trust that I don't look for trouble. I don't want to deal with what I do, but I do. Even when I saved his dad, I don't get any respect. Now I'm part Voldemort, the Future Dark Lord. Just can't do anything right, can I?
Harry got ready for bed while brooding about hypocritical best friends and his stalker, Trouble. As he flopped onto his bed, he spelled the curtains shut and silenced incase he had a nightmare. Thinking once more about Snape he decides to actually try clearing his mind. With some difficulty he manages to ignore all outside thoughts and imagined a blankness… I wonder if the twins will do any pranks on Umbridge tomorrow. Harry forced out the thought and visualized a meadow in a forest, on a plateau, peaceful and quiet. He drifted off to sleep.