Harry Potter-Dark Wizard?
Author: Lee Velviet
E-Mail: Vampslay@Bellsouth.net
Disclaimer: You know who this stuff belongs to-J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., etc-I own absolutely nothing! ::Sob::
Summary: This was supposed to be my great epic-my sweeping HP saga- right. I couldn't even think of a good title. ::Sighs in disgust:: Anyway, Harry gets lost the summer after his sixth year while on a kind of quest with Sirius Black-he returns to Hogwarts older, darker, wiser, and more powerful, after acquiring a piece of his destiny, the ancient, omnipotent powers of the Order Of The Phoenix. But it comes with a price-though he may be able to at last defeat Voldemort for good, it seems all too possible he may be setting himself up to be the greatest dark wizard ever.
(Ok, Lameness abounds-read on, true believers, and let me know what you think! Reviews would rock, flames are welcome, but constructive criticism would be better! As always, please let me know if I get facts wrong! Thanks for reading!) (Hope this chapter answers a few questions! ^-^)
2. The Mark
"Understanding is the first step to acceptance, and only with acceptance can there be recovery." –Albus Dumbledore, The Goblet Of Fire, J.K. Rowling
Harry didn't know how they got there, or really why he was there all he knew was that Sirius had said he must come-and he'd do anything for his Godfather. Harry looked around the nearly pitch dark, ancient looking room- this was way better than spending the summer with the Dursley's.
Sirius moved to stand before an unremarkable looking statue so old it's features had been nearly worn smooth.
"Where are we, Sirius?" Harry thought it looked a lot like the setting of an old Muggle movie he'd seen as a child, with it's dark, warm colored stone, piles of dust and rubble everywhere-it smelled old.
Sirius looked back over his shoulder at Harry, flinging his hair from his eyes.
He looked almost regretful. It scared Harry suddenly.
"Be careful, Harry. I love you."
"What? What are you-ahhhhhhhh!" Harry yelped as Sirius twisted a hand of the statue and with a great, grinding shift, the portion of the floor Harry stood on fell away, and he shot down into blackness.
Harry hit a hard, cold surface with a hard thud. It jarred him so hard he could taste blood in his mouth as he accidentally bit his tongue.
He groaned, taking a deep breath before pushing to his feet.
The light here was gray-and it was cold. Harry could only see a few feet in front of him-he looked around, but couldn't find the source of the dim light.
"Sirius?" His voice echoed loudly. He figured he must be in a very large room.
There was a sudden flare-Harry jumped and twisted towards the sound, feeling very vulnerable.
A torch lit in the distance, then another, and another, and so on, until Harry saw that he stood in the center of a huge, cavernous room at least ten times the size of the great hall at Hogwarts.
The walls were made of the same golden brown stone he'd seen in the room with Sirius. The ceiling was so high he couldn't make it out.
"Sirius!" Harry detected a hint of panic in his voice and took a deep breath.
"Your Guardian is safe."
The voice made up of many voices made Harry turn in circles, but he could see no one. "Who are you? Where am I?"
"It doesn't matter where you are, Harry Potter-what matters is who you are-inside."
Harry shook his head, fervently wishing he had his wand. "I-don't understand-"
"Voldemort will rise soon-he will be unstoppable, nearly invincible."
A cold chill ran down Harry's spine. He squinted through his glasses into the dimness. "Have I been brought here for a reason? I already know he's trying to kill me." He couldn't keep the impatience from his voice. He was tired of the vagueness of it all.
The voice chuckled. "You have spirit-it is good to see the Muggles you live with did not break it. You shall need it for the journey ahead."
"What journey? Where are we going?"
"You are going on a journey, Mr. Potter. You see-you are in the lair of the Order Of The Phoenix-an ancient class of powerful witches and wizards who oversee and protect the natural order of things-and the time has come for us to lend our support. Lord Voldemort has become a very real threat-"
"Now! You offer your support now!" Rage rose in Harry's chest. "Where were you when he rose to power over a decade ago-wasn't he a real enough threat back then? Where was your support when he murdered my parents?"
"Destiny. Our time is now. The past is over."
Harry clenched his fists, furious. "Not for me it isn't."
"Enough. You have been chosen."
"Chosen?" Harry pushed his glasses up on his nose. "Chosen to die? Thanks, but no thanks!"
"You have been chosen to wield the powers of the Order-the Order Of The Phoenix. You have been chosen to become the Champion of The Light."
Harry felt as if he were standing on the edge of a cliff, watching the bridge to reality crumble before him.
"It is your destiny."
"You must pass the challenge before you can be deemed worthy enough to receive the powers."
This didn't bode well to Harry. "What kind of challenge?" He demanded, suddenly feeling very worn. He really wasn't up to this-
"You must overcome your fears, Harry Potter. You must face them, in the Maze of Dreams-if you prove your courage, and do not get lost for forever, at the end of it, you will receive the Mark Of The Phoenix-and the omnipotent powers that come with it. With our powers, you will defeat the dark lord."
"Maze? Lost? Forever?" Harry almost fell to his knees as he felt the weight of the world fall onto his unprepared shoulders. I'm just a kid he wanted to yell. I don't want this! Why me?
"You must go now, Harry Potter. The time is short-like the phoenix, we are reborn every thousand years-you must be present to ascend."
"A-Ascend?" Harry swallowed hard, feeling queasy. He'd been present at the rebirth of Dumbledore's Phoenix, Fawkes. If bursting into flames was included in this Ascension, Harry would really rather not be present.
"Don't I have any say in this?" He said this rather weakly, already knowing the answer.
"You may proceed."
Harry took several steps back as the room began to rumble and shake- the floor began to break apart-great walls began to rise from the dark crevasses, and he watched in awe as they grew around him, so high he couldn't make out the tops.
At last all was quiet again, and Harry was surrounded by dismal looking gray stone walls-every so many feet, a blue flame burned on a torch high up on the walls.
Harry sighed, and took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He cleaned the lenses on the ragged, worn hem of his shirt and replaced them on his nose. With a resigned straightening of his shoulders, he began to move forward, not knowing what might lie ahead. He turned the first corner and was presented with two options-two corridors lead off to the right and left. He hesitated, and took the right one, wondering irritably when and if Fate would finally decide to stop dragging him around by his nuts.
"You have passed the challenge, Harry Potter. You may come forward to ascend, and receive the Mark."
Harry looked up from where he had collapsed on the floor of the cavernous hall with a dark sneer. He looked around jerkily- the seemingly endless Maze and its horrors had disappeared. It would have been kinder to have sent him to Hell-the endless time he'd spent in the Maze, half of it in stygian darkness, had been a lesson in madness.
"I don't want it!" Harry could barely recognize his own voice-he remembered vaguely having finally lost it-how many times had he yelled? How many times had he called out for help, screamed in pain and fear? He hadn't heard another real voice besides his own for months, he'd bet on it. After the first few days-or had it been weeks-he'd realized he'd neither eaten nor had anything to drink-as if his body hadn't needed nourishment. Even those small, normal comforts had been taken from him-along with the sweet release of sleep. It had been nightmare after nightmare-and Harry had begun to doubt his sanity.
"You can find someone else to be your champion," Harry spat hatefully, rising unsteadily to his feet, his clothes hanging in tatters around him. "I quit."
"Impossible. You must fight."
Harry turned in circles, looking into the dimly lit, cavernous room. "Fight? What do you think I've been doing for God knows how long? I've done nothing but fight! I almost went mad in there-in fact, I'm not quite sure I didn't! What more do you want from me? My bloody life?" He snorted. "Sorry, Voldemort's already laid claim to that."
The voice was silent for a long moment.
"The challenge has trained you in the use of the powers-you are not yet aware of it, but it was for your own benefit."
"My benefit?" Harry's voice broke. "Watching my parent's die over and over again was a part of that too, I suppose. What about the Cruciatus Curse-Voldemort popping up around every other corner with that focused on me was a benefit as well? Do you have any idea how many times I almost begged to die? How worthy am I, really?" The bitterness in his tone ate away at him.
"You are immune to the curse now, are you not?" The voice was quiet.
Harry stood staring at the ground his shoulders shaking with his rage. He couldn't find words to speak.
"Step forward, Harry Potter, and claim your destiny."
He flung his head back, his green eyes hard and sharp as he clenched his fists. He knew he had no choice-Ron and Hermione and Ginny would be depending on him-so many lives were depending on him-but he didn't want it. He didn't want any of it.
Harry took several halting steps forward, his lips still curled into an uncharacteristic snarl. Then a blinding, golden light hit him full on, and he heard the most calming, welcoming and beautiful thing he'd never even hoped to hear again-the song of the Phoenix.
Harry woke up from his dream with a jolt-he sighed raggedly as he looked up at the canopy above his head. He hated that he had to relive that hell in his dreams-it didn't come often, but when it did-most days it had been like when he had gone through everything with The Goblet of Fire, and the loss of Cedric Diggory-he'd been through so much he couldn't always remember everything.
To tell the truth he didn't mind. He didn't mind forgetting sometimes why he was so different, always so uncomfortable in his own skin.
Skin. Harry lifted his wand hand, looking at the back of it-the Mark of the Phoenix was there, invisible to any but him, and perhaps, Dumbledore. He ran the fingers of his other hand across the smooth skin, feeling the slight heat rising from the mark. It was hard to believe that this was the only thing that would keep him from Voldemort's wrath-it acted as a protective shield against the Dark Arts as well as his link to the powers of the Order. It was unremarkable really-a small, roughly simplistic line drawing of a red plumed bird rising from a burst of flames-it reminded Harry of pictures he'd seen of ancient cave paintings-he supposed the Mark was probably as old as that, if not older.
Doubts tugged at his thoughts, sending them into places he'd rather forget- but what would happen in the final battle? Would he be forced to use the powers so much that he would lose himself? There were so many 'what-if's' and 'maybe's' running amuck in his head, he couldn't think straight.
Harry closed his eyes and focused, clearing his useless thoughts away-his destiny had already been mapped out-there was nothing he could do to change the final outcome, no matter how much power he possessed. All he could do was fight, and hope for the best.
It was a shame the best never seemed fit to come his way.
He glanced across the room to the darkened window as a wind rattled the thick, wavy panes of old glass, and he thought longingly of the approaching Christmas Holidays. The castle would be nearly empty-he might be able to finally spend some time alone with Ginny. Her parents were making another short trip to see Charlie and Bill, so Ron and she would be staying the Holiday vacation. Hermione had also made plans to stay, since it would be their last year together at Hogwarts. He just hoped it wasn't their last year together ever.
Harry swiped a sheen of sweat from his face, rolling over onto his stomach to stare across at Ron, sleeping peacefully in the other four poster located next to his.
Neville Longbottom was snoring loudly in his own bed across the room, and Harry almost grinned-he had missed even that. He shook his head.
Sighing, knowing there would be no more sleep that night, Harry rose from his bed, and dressed. He put on his black school robes and quietly left the room, making his way down to the common room.
"Ginny."
The pretty young redhead turned in her seat from her contemplation of the fire to look at him.
"Couldn't sleep?"
Harry took a seat next her hesitantly, knowing there would be masses of questions that he couldn't answer. He hadn't paid attention to her as he should have since he'd returned-so many things had been hanging heavy on him, that his love for her had been pushed to the back of the line.
He reached out and fingered one of her red curls. "I'm sorry Ginny."
She looked at him curiously, her hand coming up to touch his. "Sorry? For what, Harry?"
"You don't deserve this. I haven't been here for you, as I should have been-I've neglected you. You stay beside me, though. Why?" He knew very well, why. But he needed to hear it- he'd never get tired of hearing it. Love had been like a dirty word in the Dursley's household-at least when it had come to him.
"Because I love you, Harry." She studied him closely, her eyes narrowing slightly, but to his surprise, didn't try to ply him with questions he couldn't answer.
"I love you, too, Ginny." He gathered her into his arms and closed his eyes. "I'll always love you-please, be patient with me-you don't know how important you are to me."
She sighed against him unsteadily.
Harry held her the rest of the night, finally falling into a deep sleep as dawn came. When he awoke, he was alone; Ginny's robe was covering him.
It was then that he realized he hadn't remembered to bother putting on his glasses.
Ginny wandered through her usual day in a trancelike state-she dressed, ate, took notes, wrote down her assignments, and spoke when spoken to-but she didn't feel as if she were really there.
Harry hadn't been wearing his glasses.
Such a simple thing really-but it had explained so much-and so very little.
Ginny waved at Ron and Harry as she passed them in the hall just before Charms-Harry was giving her a measuring look behind his glasses, almost as if he knew what was on her mind.
She forced a weak smile, and he returned it before moving along with the flow of students heading in the opposite direction.
Ginny tried not to wonder why Harry was hiding the fact that he could see without his glasses from her-or anyone else for that matter. Really, what did it matter that his vision had improved? If he chose to hide it, was it really anyone else's business?
With difficulty, Ginny managed to push her troubling thoughts aside- after Charms was Defense Against The Dark Arts-this year the sixth and seventh year students were sharing one class per week together-Ginny didn't really see what the point was-she supposed the seventh years were supposed to share their experience with them-mostly it was just cramped and uncomfortable, and Slytherin and Gryffindor were always at each others throats; but Draco Malfoy had become strangely close mouthed whenever Harry was near.
She did get to see Harry though-being near him made the two-hour long class with the dour Professor Snape bearable.
Ginny walked into Professor Flitwick's class, already tired from the thought of moving through the rest of the day. She was supposed to be learning how to survive in the Wizarding world at Hogwarts-Ginny had never thought, in the excitement of her first year, that she would ever be trying to survive Hogwarts itself.
TBC
(Hey all hope you liked it! Sorry it's taken so long to update. Let me know what you think, and my thanks to all of you who have reviewed-writing goes so much faster when people like your stuff! Thanks again! ~Lee)
Author: Lee Velviet
E-Mail: Vampslay@Bellsouth.net
Disclaimer: You know who this stuff belongs to-J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., etc-I own absolutely nothing! ::Sob::
Summary: This was supposed to be my great epic-my sweeping HP saga- right. I couldn't even think of a good title. ::Sighs in disgust:: Anyway, Harry gets lost the summer after his sixth year while on a kind of quest with Sirius Black-he returns to Hogwarts older, darker, wiser, and more powerful, after acquiring a piece of his destiny, the ancient, omnipotent powers of the Order Of The Phoenix. But it comes with a price-though he may be able to at last defeat Voldemort for good, it seems all too possible he may be setting himself up to be the greatest dark wizard ever.
(Ok, Lameness abounds-read on, true believers, and let me know what you think! Reviews would rock, flames are welcome, but constructive criticism would be better! As always, please let me know if I get facts wrong! Thanks for reading!) (Hope this chapter answers a few questions! ^-^)
2. The Mark
"Understanding is the first step to acceptance, and only with acceptance can there be recovery." –Albus Dumbledore, The Goblet Of Fire, J.K. Rowling
Harry didn't know how they got there, or really why he was there all he knew was that Sirius had said he must come-and he'd do anything for his Godfather. Harry looked around the nearly pitch dark, ancient looking room- this was way better than spending the summer with the Dursley's.
Sirius moved to stand before an unremarkable looking statue so old it's features had been nearly worn smooth.
"Where are we, Sirius?" Harry thought it looked a lot like the setting of an old Muggle movie he'd seen as a child, with it's dark, warm colored stone, piles of dust and rubble everywhere-it smelled old.
Sirius looked back over his shoulder at Harry, flinging his hair from his eyes.
He looked almost regretful. It scared Harry suddenly.
"Be careful, Harry. I love you."
"What? What are you-ahhhhhhhh!" Harry yelped as Sirius twisted a hand of the statue and with a great, grinding shift, the portion of the floor Harry stood on fell away, and he shot down into blackness.
Harry hit a hard, cold surface with a hard thud. It jarred him so hard he could taste blood in his mouth as he accidentally bit his tongue.
He groaned, taking a deep breath before pushing to his feet.
The light here was gray-and it was cold. Harry could only see a few feet in front of him-he looked around, but couldn't find the source of the dim light.
"Sirius?" His voice echoed loudly. He figured he must be in a very large room.
There was a sudden flare-Harry jumped and twisted towards the sound, feeling very vulnerable.
A torch lit in the distance, then another, and another, and so on, until Harry saw that he stood in the center of a huge, cavernous room at least ten times the size of the great hall at Hogwarts.
The walls were made of the same golden brown stone he'd seen in the room with Sirius. The ceiling was so high he couldn't make it out.
"Sirius!" Harry detected a hint of panic in his voice and took a deep breath.
"Your Guardian is safe."
The voice made up of many voices made Harry turn in circles, but he could see no one. "Who are you? Where am I?"
"It doesn't matter where you are, Harry Potter-what matters is who you are-inside."
Harry shook his head, fervently wishing he had his wand. "I-don't understand-"
"Voldemort will rise soon-he will be unstoppable, nearly invincible."
A cold chill ran down Harry's spine. He squinted through his glasses into the dimness. "Have I been brought here for a reason? I already know he's trying to kill me." He couldn't keep the impatience from his voice. He was tired of the vagueness of it all.
The voice chuckled. "You have spirit-it is good to see the Muggles you live with did not break it. You shall need it for the journey ahead."
"What journey? Where are we going?"
"You are going on a journey, Mr. Potter. You see-you are in the lair of the Order Of The Phoenix-an ancient class of powerful witches and wizards who oversee and protect the natural order of things-and the time has come for us to lend our support. Lord Voldemort has become a very real threat-"
"Now! You offer your support now!" Rage rose in Harry's chest. "Where were you when he rose to power over a decade ago-wasn't he a real enough threat back then? Where was your support when he murdered my parents?"
"Destiny. Our time is now. The past is over."
Harry clenched his fists, furious. "Not for me it isn't."
"Enough. You have been chosen."
"Chosen?" Harry pushed his glasses up on his nose. "Chosen to die? Thanks, but no thanks!"
"You have been chosen to wield the powers of the Order-the Order Of The Phoenix. You have been chosen to become the Champion of The Light."
Harry felt as if he were standing on the edge of a cliff, watching the bridge to reality crumble before him.
"It is your destiny."
"You must pass the challenge before you can be deemed worthy enough to receive the powers."
This didn't bode well to Harry. "What kind of challenge?" He demanded, suddenly feeling very worn. He really wasn't up to this-
"You must overcome your fears, Harry Potter. You must face them, in the Maze of Dreams-if you prove your courage, and do not get lost for forever, at the end of it, you will receive the Mark Of The Phoenix-and the omnipotent powers that come with it. With our powers, you will defeat the dark lord."
"Maze? Lost? Forever?" Harry almost fell to his knees as he felt the weight of the world fall onto his unprepared shoulders. I'm just a kid he wanted to yell. I don't want this! Why me?
"You must go now, Harry Potter. The time is short-like the phoenix, we are reborn every thousand years-you must be present to ascend."
"A-Ascend?" Harry swallowed hard, feeling queasy. He'd been present at the rebirth of Dumbledore's Phoenix, Fawkes. If bursting into flames was included in this Ascension, Harry would really rather not be present.
"Don't I have any say in this?" He said this rather weakly, already knowing the answer.
"You may proceed."
Harry took several steps back as the room began to rumble and shake- the floor began to break apart-great walls began to rise from the dark crevasses, and he watched in awe as they grew around him, so high he couldn't make out the tops.
At last all was quiet again, and Harry was surrounded by dismal looking gray stone walls-every so many feet, a blue flame burned on a torch high up on the walls.
Harry sighed, and took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He cleaned the lenses on the ragged, worn hem of his shirt and replaced them on his nose. With a resigned straightening of his shoulders, he began to move forward, not knowing what might lie ahead. He turned the first corner and was presented with two options-two corridors lead off to the right and left. He hesitated, and took the right one, wondering irritably when and if Fate would finally decide to stop dragging him around by his nuts.
"You have passed the challenge, Harry Potter. You may come forward to ascend, and receive the Mark."
Harry looked up from where he had collapsed on the floor of the cavernous hall with a dark sneer. He looked around jerkily- the seemingly endless Maze and its horrors had disappeared. It would have been kinder to have sent him to Hell-the endless time he'd spent in the Maze, half of it in stygian darkness, had been a lesson in madness.
"I don't want it!" Harry could barely recognize his own voice-he remembered vaguely having finally lost it-how many times had he yelled? How many times had he called out for help, screamed in pain and fear? He hadn't heard another real voice besides his own for months, he'd bet on it. After the first few days-or had it been weeks-he'd realized he'd neither eaten nor had anything to drink-as if his body hadn't needed nourishment. Even those small, normal comforts had been taken from him-along with the sweet release of sleep. It had been nightmare after nightmare-and Harry had begun to doubt his sanity.
"You can find someone else to be your champion," Harry spat hatefully, rising unsteadily to his feet, his clothes hanging in tatters around him. "I quit."
"Impossible. You must fight."
Harry turned in circles, looking into the dimly lit, cavernous room. "Fight? What do you think I've been doing for God knows how long? I've done nothing but fight! I almost went mad in there-in fact, I'm not quite sure I didn't! What more do you want from me? My bloody life?" He snorted. "Sorry, Voldemort's already laid claim to that."
The voice was silent for a long moment.
"The challenge has trained you in the use of the powers-you are not yet aware of it, but it was for your own benefit."
"My benefit?" Harry's voice broke. "Watching my parent's die over and over again was a part of that too, I suppose. What about the Cruciatus Curse-Voldemort popping up around every other corner with that focused on me was a benefit as well? Do you have any idea how many times I almost begged to die? How worthy am I, really?" The bitterness in his tone ate away at him.
"You are immune to the curse now, are you not?" The voice was quiet.
Harry stood staring at the ground his shoulders shaking with his rage. He couldn't find words to speak.
"Step forward, Harry Potter, and claim your destiny."
He flung his head back, his green eyes hard and sharp as he clenched his fists. He knew he had no choice-Ron and Hermione and Ginny would be depending on him-so many lives were depending on him-but he didn't want it. He didn't want any of it.
Harry took several halting steps forward, his lips still curled into an uncharacteristic snarl. Then a blinding, golden light hit him full on, and he heard the most calming, welcoming and beautiful thing he'd never even hoped to hear again-the song of the Phoenix.
Harry woke up from his dream with a jolt-he sighed raggedly as he looked up at the canopy above his head. He hated that he had to relive that hell in his dreams-it didn't come often, but when it did-most days it had been like when he had gone through everything with The Goblet of Fire, and the loss of Cedric Diggory-he'd been through so much he couldn't always remember everything.
To tell the truth he didn't mind. He didn't mind forgetting sometimes why he was so different, always so uncomfortable in his own skin.
Skin. Harry lifted his wand hand, looking at the back of it-the Mark of the Phoenix was there, invisible to any but him, and perhaps, Dumbledore. He ran the fingers of his other hand across the smooth skin, feeling the slight heat rising from the mark. It was hard to believe that this was the only thing that would keep him from Voldemort's wrath-it acted as a protective shield against the Dark Arts as well as his link to the powers of the Order. It was unremarkable really-a small, roughly simplistic line drawing of a red plumed bird rising from a burst of flames-it reminded Harry of pictures he'd seen of ancient cave paintings-he supposed the Mark was probably as old as that, if not older.
Doubts tugged at his thoughts, sending them into places he'd rather forget- but what would happen in the final battle? Would he be forced to use the powers so much that he would lose himself? There were so many 'what-if's' and 'maybe's' running amuck in his head, he couldn't think straight.
Harry closed his eyes and focused, clearing his useless thoughts away-his destiny had already been mapped out-there was nothing he could do to change the final outcome, no matter how much power he possessed. All he could do was fight, and hope for the best.
It was a shame the best never seemed fit to come his way.
He glanced across the room to the darkened window as a wind rattled the thick, wavy panes of old glass, and he thought longingly of the approaching Christmas Holidays. The castle would be nearly empty-he might be able to finally spend some time alone with Ginny. Her parents were making another short trip to see Charlie and Bill, so Ron and she would be staying the Holiday vacation. Hermione had also made plans to stay, since it would be their last year together at Hogwarts. He just hoped it wasn't their last year together ever.
Harry swiped a sheen of sweat from his face, rolling over onto his stomach to stare across at Ron, sleeping peacefully in the other four poster located next to his.
Neville Longbottom was snoring loudly in his own bed across the room, and Harry almost grinned-he had missed even that. He shook his head.
Sighing, knowing there would be no more sleep that night, Harry rose from his bed, and dressed. He put on his black school robes and quietly left the room, making his way down to the common room.
"Ginny."
The pretty young redhead turned in her seat from her contemplation of the fire to look at him.
"Couldn't sleep?"
Harry took a seat next her hesitantly, knowing there would be masses of questions that he couldn't answer. He hadn't paid attention to her as he should have since he'd returned-so many things had been hanging heavy on him, that his love for her had been pushed to the back of the line.
He reached out and fingered one of her red curls. "I'm sorry Ginny."
She looked at him curiously, her hand coming up to touch his. "Sorry? For what, Harry?"
"You don't deserve this. I haven't been here for you, as I should have been-I've neglected you. You stay beside me, though. Why?" He knew very well, why. But he needed to hear it- he'd never get tired of hearing it. Love had been like a dirty word in the Dursley's household-at least when it had come to him.
"Because I love you, Harry." She studied him closely, her eyes narrowing slightly, but to his surprise, didn't try to ply him with questions he couldn't answer.
"I love you, too, Ginny." He gathered her into his arms and closed his eyes. "I'll always love you-please, be patient with me-you don't know how important you are to me."
She sighed against him unsteadily.
Harry held her the rest of the night, finally falling into a deep sleep as dawn came. When he awoke, he was alone; Ginny's robe was covering him.
It was then that he realized he hadn't remembered to bother putting on his glasses.
Ginny wandered through her usual day in a trancelike state-she dressed, ate, took notes, wrote down her assignments, and spoke when spoken to-but she didn't feel as if she were really there.
Harry hadn't been wearing his glasses.
Such a simple thing really-but it had explained so much-and so very little.
Ginny waved at Ron and Harry as she passed them in the hall just before Charms-Harry was giving her a measuring look behind his glasses, almost as if he knew what was on her mind.
She forced a weak smile, and he returned it before moving along with the flow of students heading in the opposite direction.
Ginny tried not to wonder why Harry was hiding the fact that he could see without his glasses from her-or anyone else for that matter. Really, what did it matter that his vision had improved? If he chose to hide it, was it really anyone else's business?
With difficulty, Ginny managed to push her troubling thoughts aside- after Charms was Defense Against The Dark Arts-this year the sixth and seventh year students were sharing one class per week together-Ginny didn't really see what the point was-she supposed the seventh years were supposed to share their experience with them-mostly it was just cramped and uncomfortable, and Slytherin and Gryffindor were always at each others throats; but Draco Malfoy had become strangely close mouthed whenever Harry was near.
She did get to see Harry though-being near him made the two-hour long class with the dour Professor Snape bearable.
Ginny walked into Professor Flitwick's class, already tired from the thought of moving through the rest of the day. She was supposed to be learning how to survive in the Wizarding world at Hogwarts-Ginny had never thought, in the excitement of her first year, that she would ever be trying to survive Hogwarts itself.
TBC
(Hey all hope you liked it! Sorry it's taken so long to update. Let me know what you think, and my thanks to all of you who have reviewed-writing goes so much faster when people like your stuff! Thanks again! ~Lee)