Chapter 6: Bed-side Conversations
Dumbledore looked down at Harry's unconscious body as Lockhart twittered on beside him. On the other side of the bed, Madame Pomfrey and Snape were having a quiet argument about the best potions to use. Despite their disagreement, they had managed to cause a huge improvement; Harry looked so peaceful, a stark contrast to the convulsions he had been suffering when Dumbledore first arrived in the Hospital Wing. Dumbledore sighed deeply, realising he had not heard a word Lockhart had said.
"I'm sorry Gilderoy, can you go over that again please?"
Lockhart beamed magnificently, clearly happy carry on talking.
"Of course Headmaster. He was helping me with some of my mail; from my fans you know, very sweet of them but it does rather overwhelm me occasionally."
On the other side of the bed, Snape snorted in derision.
"It came out of nowhere really. It was clearly an extremely Dark curse someone had used on him, he just collapsed, started twitching. I did everything I could of course, but I rather think that he'll never recover. I mean, the things I've seen… I think I can safely say there is nothing I haven't seen, and if I can't cure it then it can't be done Headmaster."
Out of the corner of his eye, Dumbledore saw Madame Pomfrey and Snape cease their argument, and turn to glare at Lockhart.
"Thank you Gilderoy, but I'll be the judge of that if you don't mind. That will be all."
Lockhart gave a deep bow, nodding to Snape and Pomfrey before taking his leave. As soon as the door was closed, Dumbledore turned to the others.
"Well?"
Madame Pomfrey scowled.
"I'm not certain Albus, but that buffoon certainly didn't help! In fact Mr Potter probably wouldn't be in this condition if it weren't for Lockhart! Some of his injuries are clearly the result of miscast healing magic."
"I suspected as much. What about his other injuries?"
"Something's happened to his magical core. The block on it has – twisted or something, however you want to put it. If anything it's wrapped around him tighter than it was last year."
"A small mercy…"
Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey stared at Snape, speechless. He sneered at them.
"Isn't it obvious? His magic's been even more wild this term. He's close to losing control of it whenever he gets even mildly annoyed now. He isn't doing as much damage when he does lose control of it true, but you don't need to be particularly powerful to notice him when he's in a bad mood. You can feel his magic pressing against you."
Dumbledore sat down on Harry's bed, staring at his student. As he did so, he lowered the barriers he habitually kept raised on his own magic, to prevent people around him being overwhelmed by its power. He flinched. Harry's power was dormant at the moment, since he was unconscious, but Dumbledore was sensitive enough to feel that Snape was right. Harry's magic was humming, pressed down, bound beneath his skin, almost begging to be released. For a brief moment, Dumbledore felt fear, for the first time since he had found the remains of Voldemort at Godric's Hollow. If Harry was that powerful… He was at least as powerful as Tom Riddle had been as a student, before the foul rituals he had used to bolster his magic to the formidable levels he had reached before his downfall. What might Harry do with that power?
He shook the thought from his head. Severus was probably the only person in the world who could find anything bad to say about Harry, and even he would be unlikely to declare him dangerous. He looked back towards Snape, taking note of the look of anticipation in his eyes.
"Harry certainly is a little… different isn't he? You haven't said anything about him before Severus; is it causing problems?"
"A few headaches, nothing more. But he will be a problem, you must see that Headmaster. His magic is too wild, if it gets loose he'll cause chaos!"
"I somehow doubt that Severus."
Snape's eyes narrowed. Dumbledore hastily raised his magical barriers again; Severus was a powerful wizard in his own right. Snape's voice, when he spoke, was low and icy.
"You do recall our discussion last term I trust Headmaster?"
"I do indeed Severus, and I stand by what I said. But I do not believe it will be necessary to remove Harry from school."
Snape held Dumbledore's gaze for a moment, before nodding curtly and striding out of the room, his robes billowing behind him like wings. Dumbledore turned to Madame Pomfrey.
"Do you think you can heal him Poppy?"
She nodded decisively.
"You've seen the improvement since he arrived Headmaster; there isn't a lot I can do about the problems with his magical core, but nobody seems to be able to do anything about that. The damage from Lockhart's attempts at healing him is more serious, but I can repair it. He'll need a couple of day's bed rest, but he should be fine."
Dumbledore nodded in satisfaction.
"Excellent. I'll let his friends know tomorrow, so you can probably expect some visitors."
"As if I could keep them away…"
"True. Goodnight Poppy. Let me know if there's anything I can do."
Ron opened his eyes with a yawn, dragging himself from the depths of sleep with an effort. He looked at the clock, and smiled slightly. Then he stretched out, going over his mental list of the things he had to do over the weekend; an agreeably short one, assuming one discounted the Defence Against the Dark Arts reading, which wouldn't actually teach him anything even if he made the effort. Safe in this knowledge, he rolled over again, preparing to snatch another hour in bed. However, his new position brought Harry's bed into view.
Harry's empty, apparently unused bed.
Ron sat up, expressions of confusion and anxiety battling for dominance on his face. He hadn't seen Harry since he had left for his detention with Lockhart, earlier the previous evening. He definitely hadn't been back before eleven, when Ron and the others had gone to bed, and Harry liked to stay in bed until at least nine on a Saturday, so he wouldn't be up and about just yet. So where was he?
As he stared at the empty bed, Neville wandered in from the bathroom, towelling his hair dry. He followed Ron's gaze, and nodded.
"You noticed too then? Wonder what's happened to him?"
"What makes you think anything's happened? He could just have fallen asleep downstairs."
"Come on Ron. This is Harry we're talking about. There's never a simple explanation, haven't you worked that out yet?"
"Fair point. You don't seem particularly concerned."
Neville shrugged.
"I'm not. If something urgent had happened McGonagall would have come to get us during the night. And Harry can take care of himself, I doubt anything major's wrong with him. Maybe he lost control of his magic again; a few hours alone with Lockhart would get him that angry you must admit."
Ron nodded slowly. That would make sense. He shoved the worry to the back of his mind as he climbed out of bed, aware that he wouldn't be able to sleep now.
Ten minutes later, the two friends were heading down to the common room, where Hermione was leafing through one of Lockhart's books with a frighteningly intense look on her face. Ginny was over in a corner, talking to some of her friends, and she waved at her brother as he entered the room. Waving back to her, they flopped down next to Hermione, startling her from her reading. She blushed as Ron stared pointedly at the book, and shoved it back in her bag. Then she looked around.
"Where's Harry? Is he coming down?"
"We've no idea. Wasn't in his bed when we woke up, didn't look as if it had been slept in at all, which presumably means something's happened to him."
"How do you work that out?"
Ron and Neville looked at her. She nodded.
"Ok, fair point."
"Neville reckons he might have lost control of his magic again; anything more serious than that and they'd have come and found us wouldn't they?"
"That's probably true… Oh, I hope he's ok!"
Neville reached over to put his arm round her shoulders.
"He'll be fine Hermione, just think about what he took on last year! He'll shake it off like it's nothing, trust me."
Hermione smiled at him, before shouldering her bag.
"Anyone for a trip to the Hospital Wing then?"
Soon enough, they were sat around Harry's bed in the Hospital Wing, listening as Madame Pomfrey went over the specifics of his injuries. Only Hermione seemed truly able to follow the details. However, as she was able to summarise them as 'nothing serious', Ron and Neville weren't too bothered about the intricacies. Even better, Harry had shifted from unconsciousness to sleep during the night. The only point of concern was that no-one seemed to know what had caused Harry's collapse. Hermione had raised the issue, wondering whether Harry had in fact lost his temper with Lockhart, but Madame Pomfrey had denied this.
"He apparently just collapsed. Professor Snape did say something about his magic being a lot more free this year; it's probable that he just got a little overwhelmed by it. Remember, he's going to be getting a lot more powerful as his core heals, it's bound to affect him a little. Don't worry about him; he'll be up and about in a day or so."
Hermione smiled in relief, nodding at Neville as he leaned over to her, whispering "Told you so" into her ear. Ron stood up to drag some chairs over, which drew an annoyed look from Madame Pomfrey.
"Mr Weasley! There is no point to you staying here; Mr Potter is far from critical, and you will only get in the way as I administer his last potions. You can come back this evening, and not before!"
"But Madame Pomfrey-"
"No! Visiting hour is this evening, and you may come back then. That is my final word on the subject. Haven't you got work to be getting on with?"
Throwing dark looks over their shoulders, the three friends were hurried out of the Hospital Wing. Ron almost immediately started swearing about the strict Medi-Witch, drawing both a scandalised look and a series of stinging rebukes from Hermione, delivered as they made their way back to the common room.
Ginny had taken the news that Harry was confined to bed in the Hospital Wing badly. Ironically, it was perhaps the fact that she wasn't as close to him as the others that resulted in this. The other three had seen Harry pull through far worse with barely a scratch; even though Ginny had known Harry longer than Hermione had, she had never really seen him in a bad way. The fact that her friend could be struck down so easily had come as a shock. She had also been annoyed by Madame Pomfrey's restriction on visiting, and was almost as vocal about it as Ron, much to Hermione's surprise.
However, she was pragmatic enough to accept that there was little she could do, and the constant reassurances from the older trio eventually calmed her down. When she left for lunch with her classmates, she seemed almost resigned to the fact that this would probably be a common situation.
Harry's eyes flickered open. He stared at the white ceiling in confusion. The ceiling in Lockhart's office had been a pale blue – which would no doubt emphasise the professor's eyes or something similar – so where was he? He looked round, and groaned. The Hospital Wing. He had so far been there at least once in every term, and had actually spent his entire Easter holiday there the previous year. He was a little bored with it. But the painful ache in his head persuaded him not to make too much of a fuss. Movement to the left of him drew his eye, and he turned to see Madame Pomfrey approaching, carrying several potions on a tray.
"Good afternoon Mr Potter. Feeling better? You were in quite a state when Professor Lockhart brought you in last night I can tell you. Bleeding, shaking, pale as anything…"
"I feel ok… Am I going to be alright?"
Madame Pomfrey put the tray down next to him, holding up one of the potions and shaking it vigorously.
"You will be, if you take all these potions and rest here until tomorrow. Drink this please."
Harry swallowed the green potion, gagging as he did so. It tasted like earth. As the potion went down, he began to feel as if his head was swelling, becoming heavier and heavier.
"Don't worry Mr Potter, it's perfectly normal. You lost quite a bit of blood last night, I'm just replenishing it."
"How… How did I lose blood? I just had a headache…"
Madame Pomfrey's eyes narrowed.
"Professor Lockhart attempted to heal you himself. He was…unsuccessful."
"Doesn't surprise me." Harry muttered.
Madame Pomfrey gave him a slight smile, and turned to the other potions. She passed them to him, and he drank them, shuddering at the taste of each one. Not for the first time, he wondered precisely why healing potions always tasted so foul. He lay back again, feeling drowsy once more. He dimly realised that one of the potions must have been a soporific, and he could just make out something being said about Professor Dumbledore coming to see him as his eyes closed again, Madame Pomfrey's eyes swimming in front of his face.
Harry opened his eyes once more. He felt much better than he had earlier – much earlier, as a glance out of the window showed him that it was now early evening. He stretched out for the glasses at his bedside as he heard someone move at the end of his bed. Ron and Ginny were sitting there, a look of deep concern on her face, with nervousness fighting with resignation on Ron's. His friend leaned forward, a small smile spreading over his face, wiping the anxiety away.
"Told you he'd be alright didn't I Ginny? Hermione and Neville should be here shortly, they went to get you some food. It's a good thing you did wake up though mate, she'd never have shut up about it if you hadn't. She was nearly crying earlier you know – ow!"
"I was not Ronald and you know it!"
"Alright, alright, you weren't crying! Merlin…"
Harry leaned back, grinning at the scene in front of him. Ron had never really learnt that Ginny was never afraid to fight back when her brothers taunted her, often physically. Harry often teamed up with her when it happened it front of him. When they had first met, she had been too in awe of his reputation as the Boy-Who-Lived to do anything other than stare at him. A few pranks from Fred and George had soon sorted that out – it was hard to live up to the reputation when you had ears twice the size of your head and a singing nose – and they had been firm friends ever since. She was a living embodiment of the famous Weasley temper when she was roused, and her brothers had an unfortunate habit of encouraging that habit.
Ginny finished hitting Ron and turned back towards Harry, her eyes sparkling.
"So. Harry. How are you? What precisely happened?"
Harry shrugged. He thought back to the previous evening, and the sudden foulness that had polluted his brain, and he shuddered.
"Harry?"
Ginny reached out to him, clasping his hand tightly, worry shining once more in her eyes. He smiled at her.
"Don't worry, I'm fine. It's just… it was weird. I was sat there, answering his fan-mail for him – yes, that is what he's having me do, thinks that I need some education in the art of celebrity or something stupid – and I suddenly got this awful headache. It came out of nowhere, and it was just – wrong. It just felt deeply wrong. Then Lockhart tried some spell on me, to heal me, and the next thing I knew I was in here."
Ron stiffened, his face tightening. A red flush was rising up from his neck.
"What do you mean he tried?"
"Apparently he cocked it up. He made me worse if anything."
"That bastard!"
Ron leapt from his seat, and began to pace up and down, his face a dark red now. Harry shivered. He had never seen Ron this angry before, and it was an unsettling sight. He shared a nervous glance with Ginny, who also seemed perturbed – which was unsettling in itself, since she knew Ron far better than Harry ever would or could.
"Calm down mate, Madame Pomfrey said there wasn't anything seriously wrong, just a few minor injuries-"
Ron whirled round to face them.
"That's not the point! He's our teacher, and he hurt you. What the hell's Dumbledore playing at, hiring someone like him? Being incompetent is one thing Harry, but that's nothing compared to actually endangering your life!"
"He hardly did that; he's nowhere near powerful enough to do that. And at least Hermione might cool down around him a little now."
"How can you be so calm about this?"
"I'm not calm Ron, but I also know full well what Sirius would do to him if he ever found out, and I rather like having my godfather at liberty. Azkaban wouldn't suit him."
Harry and Ron stared at each other for a few, brief moments, before Ron flopped back down into his chair, scowling. Ginny exhaled, relaxing.
"Fine. But I'm going to tell Fred and George. They'll make his life hell, even if you won't."
Harry grinned viciously.
"Works for me."
Harry dreamed…
He dreamt the old dream, of the attack on Godric's Hollow. And it was the old dream, not the version he had had over the summer. He dreamed of a flash of green light, and of screams, but he did not see the killing. He did not see his mother. He did not see Voldemort.
And then his dream changed. The green light faded away, diminishing to a single bright spot, which seemed to get closer, closer… Then he was floating – flying? But there was no broom – over a wasted landscape, a withered forest, a burning town. There were things down there, hideous things, unnatural things that seemed part reality, part dream and part something else. Harry did not know them, but he knew one thing. They were totally magical. They were magic, created from thin air, and existing only through someone's will. He could not say how he knew, only that it was obvious to those who looked.
As he stared, he became aware of someone whispering in his ear. He turned, and turned, but there was no-one there. He turned again, the whispering louder now, a single phrase repeated over and over again.
Mighty One Mighty One Mighty One Mighty One Mighty One Mighty One Mighty One Mighty One Mighty One Mighty One Mighty One Mighty One Mighty One…
The whispering continued, getting louder, louder, ever louder, until it was almost a shout, deafening him, hurting him, but there was still no-one there. And then everything changed. The unnatural creatures were gone. And his surroundings… They were a vision of beauty. He was no longer flying, but standing on the edge of a cliff overlooking the sea. The grass was a vivid green, the sea was peaceful, disturbed only by dolphins breaking the surface. There was a cool breeze rushing around him, and he felt – strange. He felt more calm than he could ever remember having felt, but at the same time he wanted to run, jump, shout for joy.
The voice was still whispering, but it was saying something else now.
Consequences and Ideals Mighty One, Consequences and Ideals
Harry turned round and round, but still there was no-one there.
"Who are you? What do you want? What do you mean?"
You will learn…
As always, reviews are greatly appreciated.
This is a day early, as I may not have 'net access tomorrow. Also, I don't have chapter 7 finished yet; it's been a busy term for the last few weeks, and I'm also contemplating slightly re-working some of the plotstrands for Sneaking Serpent in a fashion that may affect future books. Chapter 7 is half done though, so all being well, I should be able to post next week as well. In fact, since I have the interlude that will follow chapter 7 finished, I may be kind and post twice as a Christmas treat.
