Harry Potter and assorted characters are the property of J.K. Rowling. All situations outside of cannon are of my own design, although no disrespect is intended if any is perceived.
Shattered Core Syndrome
Core Self-Destruct: Initiated
The Hogwarts Express had arrived at precisely 8 a.m., as it did since its inception all those years ago. Most of the students would not arrive until between ten and ten thirty, so when Harry arrived at Platform 9 3/4's at eight fifteen with trunk in hand, he wasn't surprised to seen he was one of the few. As he passed through the threshold of the pillar separating the muggle world and the wizarding one, of the forty or so people he could see, only about twelve of them were students, most of them seventh years it looked like. He could see that most of them were relaxed and enjoying each others company.
When the crowd took notice of his arrival, he saw the reactions were varied. Some of the older men and women, presumably the students parents and other assorted relatives, were quick to touch hand to wand, a reflex action of a time better left forgotten, while the majority of the others of the same age flinched fearfully. The ones in their early twenties and younger mostly gave bored expressions, or ones of curiosity, at his appearance. An appearance that, if he cared to think about it, under different circumstances he would have felt the same.
Harry's choice in wardrobe left something to be desired, or at least it did to the wizards and witches present. From top to bottom, the boy's body was covered in either black cloth or animal hide, not showing any skin whatsoever. On his head, he wore a skull cap beanie, the bottom of it coming to just below his eyebrows in the front, and, covering his ears as well, down to the base of his skull in the back. Not that anyone would be able to tell that last part, as the bottom half of his face was covered from the lip of a very high collared(the top of which came to cover his nose and everything below it) zip up fleece sweater with a single breast pocket over his heart. The top of the zipper was joined at his right ear, while the bottom at his left hip. His eyes were protected from all things by the pair of wraparound obsidian glasses he'd been wearing since "The Event" occurred, and his hands were encased in a cheap pair of leather gloves.
His legs were covered in a pair of black denim jeans, durable but cheap, and his feet in a pair of simple black work boots. What caught Harry's attention, though, was that the majority of the people at King's Cross Station were staring at his boots, as if the style was something they were unfamiliar with, or they'd never seen a pair of boots before. True it was strange, but nothing to be concerned about.
Tightening his grip on the trunk, he walked to the loading area for trunks, supplies, and various other items and, after standing it up on its side, left it with the others of its kind. Sparing the crowd of curious onlookers not even a glance, he entered the seventh car of the Hogwarts Express and made to find a suitable place to sit for the duration of the ride. Normally he would have gotten a room on one of the last two cars, Hermione and Ron being with him. But now, alone, he felt it was no longer necessary to do so. That, and he saw no reason to be in the general vicinity of his former mates. He had enough pain to deal with as it was.
Choosing a suite in the third car from the engine, he sat down and waited for the soon to be influx of students arriving for their next year at Hogwarts, or in the case of first years, their first one. It was sure to be a memorable year, of that he was certain.
o0oOo0o
Oh my god! How is it that no matter when they leave, they're almost always barely on time!, Hermione thought to herself, frustration evident on her features. She arrived with the Weasleys at ten forty-five, with just enough time to drop off their trunks, say their goodbyes, and get on the train. As they, her and Ron that is( the twins had mysteriously disappeared soon after arrival, and Ginny... well, Merlin only knows where she flew off to), entered the caboose and looked for a suite, she kept an eye out for Harry.
She hadn't been able to communicate with him at all over the summer, much to her chagrin, and wanted to rectify that immediately. She had so many things to tell him! First and foremost of course, being that she had made Prefect. Not that there was any doubt she would become one, she just wanted to be praised by her best friend. Other than her parents, Harry's words, those few that he said, were always heartfelt and, for as long as she had known him, always truthful. With a smile on her face, she went off and looked for Harry.
It had been 15 minutes, and as Hermione looked in through the port window of every suite in the last two cars, she came to a rather startling conclusion. Harry wasn't there. As the train blew the final whistle for departure, she began to fret. When she felt the initial lurch of forward momentum, her concerns were fast becoming realized fears. Where is Harry?, she wondered to herself as she checked the port windows of the last two cars for the third time. All of the suites were now full, and Harry Potter was nowhere in sight. She huffed to herself in frustration as she looked at her watch. Hermione had a prefects meeting in four minutes, and, surprisingly enough, could not bring herself to worry about that with the current crisis at hand.
She brought her hand to her mouth and drummed her fingers to her lips in nervous thought. Prefects meeting or search for Harry? As these two thoughts warred against one another in her head, Ron was walking up behind her. When he saw Hermione standing in the middle of the passage way of the fifth car from the engine house, he was initially curious, but he had other concerns at the moment, smiling as he fingered his Prefect's badge, and clasped Hermione's shoulder to get her attention.
"Come on 'Mione-"
"Don't call me 'Mione!", she whispered harshly at him, giving him a glare for good measure. Ron, being as thick as he was redheaded, of course, failed to register this.
"- we have to get to the meeting. We're almost late as it is. C'mon." And with that, using all the subtlety that Ronald Bilius Weasley was known for, guided her to the Prefect's Suite, Hermione's protests falling on deaf ears.
o0oOo0o
45 minutes later, an incensed Hermione followed by a confused Ron left the meeting. Malfoy! Damn that wretched, close-minded, supremacist little... little... Grr! The little ferret had angered her to speechlessness, surprising Ron to no end. All during the meeting, the Head Boy and Girl were informing the new Prefects of their responsibilities, and warned them to not use their status for anything that may be perceived as favoritism for their house, or odium for the remaining three. At that point, comically, all eyes went to Malfoy, who looked nonplussed.
As the list of responsibilities were being disclosed, Draco began making semi obscene comments to Hermione. His remarks about her blood purity, or lack thereof, had left her mostly unscathed, it was his comments on her intelligence that had hurt. To think, with his grades being paid for instead of earned, that he had the GALL to accuse her of cheating! The Nerve of some people! All she wanted to do now was sit, relax, and find Harry. But not necessarily in that order.
o0oOo0o
Harry Potter was sitting on the port side of the third car facing forward, his eyes closed behind his lenses, as he'd had them for the last two weeks, but was still, somehow, capable of sight. Of a sort anyway. He had been sitting, leaning forward slightly with his elbows resting on his knees, surprisingly alone for the last four hours while attempting to calm the turmoil in the space that used to occupy his heart.
The tremors were fast becoming hard to control, as well as causing painful vibrations to his skin. At first it was the pain equivalent of torn muscles, muscles that happened to be all over his body, and the tremors had been only mild shakes, similar to a slight full body shiver. As time progressed, it had only gotten worse, with the pain escalating to indescribable heights, with the tremors looking like an earthquake had erupted all over his body. He could almost swear, that if it weren't for the pain, he wouldn't know if he was alive or not. Although it was a haunting reminder that his time was running out.
After getting the worst of it under control, he allowed himself to relax. They were getting worse, and he knew it. It wouldn't be long now before his body would reject the restraints he'd been forced to put on it, in the hopes that it would make things more bearable. They hadn't. As he began to calculate how long his body would support him, he caught the sight of two people on the peripheral of his right eye coming his way. Two very familiar people, both of which he had no want or reason to speak to, let alone be in the presence thereof. Life seems to enjoy throwing a wrench into the plans of everyone from time to time. Himself, it seemed, most especially.
"Listen Hermione", Ron had said, "I'm sure Dumbledore knew what he was doing when he told us not to stay in contact with Harry. I mean, he'd bore witness to Diggory's death, that's got to mess a bloke up a little. The Headmaster had just asked us to give him a little time to himself, to calm down and quit his weeping."
Hermione stared at him, giving him such a glare, that if looks could kill, his head would have exploded like a zit. "Yes Ron", she had said through gritted teeth, "a little time, not the whole summer! I can't believe I listened to him. Why, if he..."
That was as far as she got when she spotted Harry, albeit unknowingly, sitting there, the sole occupant of the room. "Oh! Um... sorry! I hope you don't mind the company, but all the other suites are full, or filled with undesirable elements", she said, grounding out the last bit in a mutter.
Were he able to sigh, he was sure he would have. Well, maybe. His emotions were still nonexistent. Thankfully that meant no fear or depression, while it was also unfortunate that happiness and love were beyond his scope of understanding. Knowing that he wouldn't be able to escape them now, he waved his hand invitingly to the seat opposite himself, the appendage shaking slightly as it moved. This is going to be a long ride, he thought to himself.
o0oOo0o
It should be illegal to wear sunglasses indoors, Hermione thought to herself. The weird man sitting across from her could be staring at her chest for all she knew. There was something very strange about the other passenger, the sunglasses not withstanding, something she just could not put her finger on. It might be his all encompassing attire. Or, it could be the fact that he didn't appear to be breathing. Or, she thought to herself, it might be that he hasn't moved AT ALL since we sat down. That, more than anything, was disturbing her greatly. She was still trying to muster up the courage to say something to this strange stranger, when Ron decided to open his gargantuan maw.
"Uh, hello there, hmm", his brain seeming to have failed him, as he could not finish what ever he was about to say. Given an opening(of sorts) she made an attempt to introduce themselves to the man in black.
"My name is Hermione Granger, and this is my friend Ron Weasley. We're fifth years and in Gryffindor. It's a pleasure to meet you", she said as she gave him her hand.
The man in black remained still, giving Hermione the impression that he hadn't heard her, when he gave a short nod, yet said nothing. Her mind was thinking fast, trying to open a line of communications to him, if for no other reason than to end the awkwardness she was feeling. With nothing else coming to mind, she pulled her hand back and asked, "um, do you attend Hogwarts too?"
Still leaning over slightly, he raised his right hand to his breast pocket, and pulled out an old, small, twice folded, rectangular piece of parchment, and tossed it onto her lap. Confused, she gave a look over to Ron, whose face read surprise as well as confusion , and in response to her unasked question, gave a shrug. Not really thinking, she picked up the parchment and unfolded it, and found its one word reply.
Yes.
"O-oh, really? What, uh, what h-house?" she all but stuttered out. Although nervous, she was also mildly disturbed that the trick had still surprised her somewhat. That such a simple parlor trick could amaze her made Hermione somewhat irritated. That a wizard would stoop to such mundane seeming magic tricks, like a common muggle "Magician", made her feel like he was making fun of the wizard traditions of old, of which she'd flounce from time to time as well, but usually not in the presence of others(outside of Harry of course. And some times Ron). What he did over the next hour would raise her ire and amaze her all the more.
The man summoned the paper from between her fingers, catching it between his index and middle finger of his right hand. He shook the worn parchment once, which somehow turned the paper from old and floppy, to new and stiff and in the form of a card, the side that faced them was black. He extended his arm towards them, and flipped the card over, displaying the Gryffindor Crest to them. Needless to say, Ron was wide eyed with glee at the mild display of magic.
"Wicked", he said," that was a right awesome trick it was." the man flipped the card over once more. Instead of the black side of the card they'd been expecting, there were two words.
Thank you.
Hermione, her curiosity getting the better of her, asked him, " How are you doing that?", and was already dreading the answer as she watched him flip the card.
Magic.
She groaned and rolled her eyes, all the while Ron was attempting to, and failing, to hold in his chuckles. When she gave him an elbow followed with a glare, he could contain himself no longer. "What did you expect him to say 'Mione?", he said between bouts of laughter, receiving a harder glare for his troubles, but continued on, "That he used some muggle scientific process, or some other such nonsense? Let the man have his secrets."
All of this is well and good, she thought to herself angrily, but we're getting off the original topic. Hermione composed herself, and after a moment asked, "You're in Gryffindor? What's your name? Maybe we've seen you some where or other."
With a flip of his card, he replied, My name is of no importance.
"...Okay. What year are you in then?", she asked, to which he responded with a number 5 when the card was turned. "Uh, you don't say much do you?" A simple No was his only reply. She dropped her head in defeat and sighed. Trying to get information out of him was an effort in futility. Raising her head to look at his face, and after giving an inquisitive glance to his eyes that caused a raised eyebrow in curiosity, she took notice of his glasses. Hermione hadn't noticed it before, but they were of one solid piece of... plastic? Glass? She didn't know the material, but it was amazingly crafted all the same. Her curiosity getting the better of her again, she asked, " May I see your lenses?", fully expecting a flat out refusal.
Much to her surprise(and pleasure), he placed the card back into his pocket, with his right hand, and after it disappeared over the lip of his pocket, gently grabbed the glasses by the nose and handed them to her with the prongs facing her. His eyes, she noticed, were closed.
"Amazing", she said after twisting and turning the lenses this way and that, marveling at their weight, which was substantial, the cold feel of stone, and the fact that they were completely opaque. There was no way he could see through them, at all. "What are they made of?", she asked after she completed her inspection.
He pulled the card from his pocket and, once again, tossed it onto her lap. When she flipped it, it said Obsidian. As she was about to ask how they were made, the suite door opened and she was interrupted by an unexpected, and very unwanted, visitor. Well three, really, but the other two didn't register as intelligent life forms.
"Well, well, well", started the blonde heir of the Malfoy line, " if it isn't the mudblood and the poor, poor blood traitor! With the Dark Lord's return, I'd watch myself I were you lot. You'll not get much mercy from him." With a sneering leer, he gave Hermione an appraising eye. " Although", he said as he licked her lips, "you may be useful as a consort... or whore."
Ron jumped up, face red in outrage and wand in hand, "You go to far Malfoy! Stu-"
"Expelliarmus!", Malfoy whispered harshly, the wands of not only Ron, but Hermione as well, flying to his outstretched hand. Although he was mildly surprised that the wand from the black clad man did not also fly to him, he marked it up the possibility he might be using a sticking charm or something akin to it. "Well now, not so tough without Potter, are you weasel?", and laughed at his disadvantaged opponent, who wore a look of apprehension on his face. His two goons, after a moment, also laughed, though it was forced. After all, it takes a great deal of effort to laugh when your brain is the size of a marble. As Malfoy was about to hex the two but good, he was interrupted by the black clad man as he slowly stood up and faced him, his eyes still closed.
"Oh? And what have we here? A hero?", Malfoy said, pointing his wand at the only unknown quantity in the room. "It seems we'll have to make an example out of you."
As he was about to release the first spell to come to mind, the card, which was on Hermione's lap still, flew to the man in black's hand, which he then brandished, the back facing Malfoy. When he flipped it simply said this:
Leave. This is your only chance.
"Leave? Me? Why would I leave, when I have the upper hand?", he said pompously, a sneer cutting across his face. "I'm not sure if you noticed this, fool, but I'm the one with the wand drawn. You don't-"
That was as far as he got. The card disappeared, his hand flat with his fingers facing up, palm facing Malfoy, in a position as if to say "Stop". He pulled his hand back an inch, and then thrust it forward to the same position it came from. The effect was instantaneous. Malfoy, Once standing proudly, was pushed off his feet and through the door way by the force of the action, slamming into the wall opposite. The man in black's hand still raised in the same position, he collapsed his fingers into a fist, causing a horrendous crunching noise to erupt from Malfoy's chest as his ribs shattered.
Malfoy gasped deeply, the pain beyond excruciating. His bodyguards, if they can be called that, bore witness to this overwhelming display of power, and ran. As he fought to stay conscious, he felt a wind come from nowhere, but seem to flow in all directions at once. With it came a voice, distended, carried by the sudden wind. And thusly, did it speak."Hhhhlisten well, last scion of Malfoy, for you will only hear this once. You would do well to change your ways, for the winds are leading away from the dusk, and are finding themselves drawn towards the dawn. When that happens, if you remain as you are, you, as well as your house, will fall. Remember this well, boy, for this is your first, last and only warning. Now, leavehhhH."
With that, he spread his fingers out once more, causing another sickening crunch as all of his ribs mended themselves, painfully. He summoned the wands of his suite mates, and gingerly returned them to their rightful owners, while retrieving his glasses from Hermione's lap. Once that was done, he closed the door, and sat back down, in the exact same spot, in the exact same position. The only difference from pre and post Malfoy, was the man in black was shivering rather violently.
Moments later, the occupants heard a strange noise, like a body being dragged on carpet, and realized it was Malfoy crawling away. When the noise passed, Ron and Hermione couldn't contain their curiosity any longer. It unfortunately didn't come out too clearly though.
o0oOo0o
After Harry sat down, his condition took a nosedive. The pain was beyond anything he'd already felt, even after performing some procedures to increase his time limit. The Shivers, as he had recently come to call one of the symptoms of his condition, were currently wracking his body with unhealthy doses physically equivalent cruciatus. After the confrontation with Malfoy, he'd come to realize something that would have been useful ten minutes ago: magic usage, no matter how short = torturous pain. As he once again tried to center himself and calm down the Shivers to a manageable level, he was continuously interrupted by his two co-passengers.
"That was wick-"
"How did you do that wandle-"
"Bloody Malfoy, he-"
"Ronald! Language!"
"Bah, whatever 'Mione! Hey, can you do that to Snape too? He's -"
"Don't call me "Mione! Are you able to do anything else wandlessly, or -"
And so it went; on and on and on and on. For the next three hours, they continued to pester him, failing to either realize or acknowledge that he wasn't answering any of their questions. Eventually the interrogation turned into a small disagreement, which escalated to an argument of a level he didn't need right now, but was incapable of stopping at the moment.
All the noises soon came to an end. After all, the train had to dock at the station eventually. To Harry, it hadn't come soon enough.
o0oOo0o
I understand that there are probably a lot of questions that are without answers right now. The next chapter will clear up everything. Or rather, I hope I answer them all.
