Harry woke up suddenly. He was drenched in sweat and everything looked fuzzy. Gingerly, he reached out with a pale shaky hand for his glasses- all he found was a cold stone floor. Frowning, he slowly sat up, so as to avoid a head rush which certainly would not help his already dizzied state. He soon discovered he was surrounded by a puddle of blood- his blood. His pyjamas were tinged with the thick red substance, not that he cared, for they were only hand-me-downs from his cousin Dudley who had begrudgingly let his cousin have them yet on Harry's under-malnourished body, they looked big enough to fit Hagrid!
But how did he get there, and where exactly was he?
Harry rolled onto his back and was shocked to see the sky. It looked so real he could see smudges of what would be about a million stars. He blinked. He rubbed his eyes. He blinked again. Closing his eyes for a second, to savour the moment of peace, tranquillity and security he felt at that moment. Emotions he could hardly remember feeling. He remembered something Hermione's knowledgeable voice had said once; "The ceilings not real, It's just bewitched to look like the night sky; I read about it in Hogwarts, a history."
Harry's eyes burst open and he sat up slightly dizzier but too numb to care. "It's impossible I can't be in Hogwarts!" He reasoned with himself out loud.
Firstly the ancient wards surrounding the castle made it impossible to apparate within the grounds let alone the hall itself and secondly Hogwarts was in Scotland; only three hours ago he was at four Privet Drive in Surrey trying to get to sleep to the sound of Hedwig's distraught hoots and Petunia Dursley's angry screeches and not forgetting the relentless snores from his severely obese cousin. But every time he closed his eyes, the same memory would replay over and over again.
He kept on seeing Voldemort coming back very much alive no matter what he did or how much he struggled. He kept hearing Voldemort's gleeful laugh as Cedric Diggory died before his eyes. He kept on smelling the foul stench of the black fog of which the Death Eaters appeared from.
All were jeering and laughing when he and Voldemort duelled. He also saw his parents that night and has seen them every night since. Harry only made it back alive through pure luck. His and Voldemort's wand had made some type of connection and in all the confusion and blinding light, he managed to make a mad dash to the portkey with Cedric's body.
Many didn't believe that 'He who must not be named' was back. Some too frightened to even warp their minds to accept that he could. Harry knew though, his dreams made sure that he knew very well and that he could depict every detail. Every snarl from Voldemort, every shimmer off the Death Eater's masks, every copper strand covering Cedric's scared face, every silver tear that fell down his mother's transparent cheek.
Many believed that the shock of seeing Cedric die made him go crazy and start seeing things. Many were even too cowardly to imagine what the Triwizard maze held within. Others were distraught at the knowledge that a new name would be printed in Triwizard Tragedies. Maybe he was mad, for now he was imagining he had somehow escaped to the sanctuary called Hogwarts. But it made sense. Harry only ever felt safe at Hogwarts-nowhere else- well, except perhaps from when he was at The Burrow; when the twins weren't around of course.
When a panting, wide-eyed Dobby rushed into Albus Dumbledore's office and told him Harry Potter had just apparated into the great hall, he hurried as quickly as his aged legs could get him through the corridors and down the stairs who thankfully had decided they wouldn't deter him from his destination .
Summoning for Madame Pomfrey, when he came across the sight of a semi conscious Harry Potter lying on the floor blood surrounding his body streaming like a river down cracks in the stoned floor, he summoned for Madam Pomfrey. Hearing a dazed Harry mumble coarsely "But I was asleep," he then understood Harry had somehow woken up in the middle of the Great Hall with no recollection as to how he got there. Pomfrey jogged over to the two whilst tying the band of her soft pink dressing gown around her waist and instinctively whisked Harry away to the hospital wing as she saw the limp boy being held in Dumbledore's arms.
"What happened to him Albus?" questioned the nurse anxiously. As she hurriedly made a bed for her patient, ensuring that the sheets had been thoroughly sanitised before hand for standards must be kept under Poppy Pomfrey's rule. Because as long as she was present in the hospital wing, standards would be kept and no one would interfere with the care and dedication the nurse strict but loving nurse gave.
"I don't know Poppy, I presume we will find out in the morning but for now I suggest we, err you, do what you can do to help Mr. Potter heal fully,"
They laid him down in the clean fresh bed and Madam Pomfrey swished her ash wand and performed some simple diagnosis charms which for some reason resulted in Harry appearing to be under malnourished. Yet to look at, Harry's pigmentation looked fine all things considered. The muscles on his arms and legs were well built from his
Quidditch playing. Poppy, in all her years of nursing had never known a diagnosis spell to be wrong yet here she was looking at a healthy teen, who was supposedly under malnourished. Quite bamboozled she cast the necessary healing charms and coaxed some dreamless sleep and pain relief potions into his system.
She then left after looking with pity towards her patient to get some sleep and nodding to the headmaster dismissing his look of yearning to know what was wrong was the boy. Dumbledore, who had noticed Poppy's confused frown, decided to question her-no demand for her to tell him tomorrow.
Both went to bed that night praying that Harry would not disappear to somewhere else during the night both knowing it was no accident that Harry was suddenly here. Neither wanted to find the hospital wing empty the following morning.
The last thing Harry remembered was wishing he could have stayed at Hogwarts over Summer instead of being sent to his aunt and uncle.
As soon as he had arrived at four Privet Drive, he was told he was not to cause any trouble and his books, trunk and wand were snatched away from him and flung into the cupboard which was then locked. The key to said cupboard was hung around Mrs Dursley's skinny neck and was to remain there until the end of the summer.
Dudley had already given him his first souvenirs of the holiday. They were currently still black and blue on his legs and face, Mrs Dursley was apparently feeling generous and gave him a sugar cube and luckily for Harry Mr Dursley was away at a drill convention in Cardiff.
Beneath him wasn't a stone floor but a comfortable bed sheet. He must have dreamt about being in the Great Hall. Anytime now, Aunt Petunia is going to hopefully push his 'breakfast' through the tiny flap, which he'll obviously skip and give to Hedwig who will hoot disappointedly at the cat food. Even an Owl wouldn't touch the stuff let alone Harry; they clearly wanted him to starve.
Deciding to get ahead of his aunt by being awake and ready for when she takes Dudley and his 'friends' to the cinema, Harry prepared enough energy for him to sit up. Maybe he will be able to copy Fred and George Wesley's method of unlocking doors so he can actually be able to do his homework as he really didn't want a detention with Snape or McGonagall when he got back.
He reached out for his glasses but only found the empty space of air.
"I've got your glasses Potter." a familiar voice said. Harry felt the cool steel frame being hooked around his ears and saw that the blurs he previously saw was the hospital wing of Hogwarts. He looked into Madam Pomfrey's sharp blue eyes and gave a small smile of thanks.
"It was real," Harry's bewildered voice croaked out.
"Yes it was Harry, but I want to know how you got here?" Another voice called from the doorway. Harry twisted his head round only to see Professor Dumbledore standing in the doorway smiling at him with his eyebrows raised.
"How did I get here?" Harry questioned quite confused.
He had assumed Dumbledore had summoned him or something but that didn't explain the blood he remembered seeing. Or was that a hallucination? No, Looking down he saw the baggy grey tee-shirt which now had dried red stains all over it. So he had been bleeding last night.
Harry scraped at the blood causing it to flake and break off as he thought. Last night was just a blur to him (whether it was because of the lack of his glasses or the reason he was in the hospital wing he did not know) but all he could recall was the desperate desire to escape another summer of starvation and torture. But he couldn't tell Dumbledore about that. Uncle Vernon would be mad, so mad in fact that Harry just did not know his reaction would be-well- he could guess what it would be. He remembers his threat clearly. They way his neck fat had wobbled as he screamed "If I ever hear you've told any of those filthy crack-pots you associate with, I swear to you boy, you won't be able, to stand-that's if I let you live!" Harry's uncle had then let Harry sample some of the pain he would receive if such an event ever occurred.
True to his word, Harry hadn't been able to stand for three weeks and had spent the time hunched up curled with his knees compressed to his chest locked under the stairs. No food and just the water that Dudley had teasingly had poured down the hole in one of the steps.
Cringing at the thought of the pain, Harry reported tactfully "I don't know sir, I was trying to get to sleep in my bed. I only remember my scar hurting I reached up and touched it and then I just woke up here that is all I remember sir, honest!"
"I believe you Potter," he assured Harry not quite sure whether to believe the child or not. Looking to Poppy for her opinion, Dumbledore just received a shrug from the ill-tempered nurse, for Dumbledore had apparently "Disrupted her patient's healing".
Just then all three heard loud footsteps echoing down the Stone corridor. The sound soon turned into a shadow and the shadow into a figure and the figure into the schools potions master. The cloak billowed behind the greasy haired man as if it was actually attached to the scowling man itself.
Severus Snape stopped behind the headmaster's shoulder and peered over it. He took one look at Harry, sighed with something that could be considered relief (but the thought was quickly dismissed by the boy-who-lived) then Snape spoke "Now it's clear why the Dark Lord was so angry, it appears you ended up in the wrong place,"
It took a while for Snape's words to register to all present members in the room. A tense silence coated the wing as the three stopped breathing as to allow the words to register.
Albus felt concern for Severus knowing his loyal spy would have witnessed and perhaps even experienced Tom Riddle's exploding anger. Poppy only felt as if she had been stupefied upon hearing the Harry had nearly been in the hands of Voldemort. The crazy man could have been victorious and the wizarding world could of woken to the news that their saviour Harry Potter had died and they were now under the rule of the Dark Lord. One could only imagine the life people would leave under the extremist. What would happen to the muggleborns; Hermione Granger in particular? What would happen to the muggles? Would they find themselves slaves to prejudiced masters?
Albus and Poppy turned to Harry just in time to see him slip into a faint. Both knew of the pressure that was on the young boy's shoulders. The amount of hope he gave to families like the Bones or Longbottems caused admiration that was almost to the extent of holy worship.
Harry was here only because Voldemort had tried to kill him last night. He must have known where Harry was to have attempted to apparate him into his deadly clutches. It was just pure luck that Harry was wishing with all his might that he was at Hogwarts at the moment he decided to strike. But for Voldemort to know Harry's location, the Fidelius Charm must have been broke and for that to happen either the secret keeper betrayed the spell, or the Dursley's weren't giving the protection required for the spell to be sustained.
The look on Severus Snape's face showed the horrors of Voldemort's anger. A look of grief was present on the potion master's. The other two could only imagine what Voldemort did when Harry wasn't killed but by the look of it he wouldn't be giving up soon...