Disclaimer - It was a dark and stormy night, but I didn't own Harry Potter.
So here's another chapter. Hope you enjoy it, do leave me feedback.
Thanks to Thelaughingman1 for his help with the plot.
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To Master The Dark
Chapter 11
Magnetic compass. Check.
A small arsenal of knives. Check.
One invisibility cloak. Check.
Gloves. Check.
Vials and small containers. Check.
Wand. Check.
Ski mask. Check.
I pull on the gloves, and slip on the ski mask. The silvery cloaks covers me, and my reflection disappears from the mirror in front.
Getting out into the grounds is easy. I move almost on auto-pilot. I know the corridors very well by now - a product of my nightly wanderings.
The grounds are dark, the night is silent. Overhead, the moon is almost full, slipping in and out of dark clouds. Stars twinkle here and there. The February air is cold.
I've forgotten my scarf. Again.
Selina would not be happy.
The lights are off in Hagrid's hut. I peer through a window, through the gap between the curtains and spy the massive man on his bed. Good.
I pause at the edge of the forbidden forest and check my compass. Getting lost in the forest is not part of my plan.
My eyes have almost adjusted to the darkness by now. I move into the forest, making sure the cloak is still covering me.
I have only come here once, and I barely walked a couple of minutes into the forest before coming across a trail of silvery blood, and broken twigs. I turned back. That was two weeks ago. I spoke to Hagrid the very next day, and he was full of information. Apparently something is killing unicorns. A little more research told me why.
Unicorn blood grants life. A cursed life, but life nonetheless.
Now I advance further into the forest. I move slowly, cautiously, but steadily, senses straining to detect any movement.
The trees are very tall, and but they don't grow very thickly. It is not hard to move through the forest.
Black flowers grow here and there. I draw a knife and cut one, putting it in one of the small containers I've brought along.
Every now and then I pause to take something. A shoot, a flower, a curious bulb-like protusion. I'm looking for a very specific flower - a Lishrydig.
Seven leaves, seven petals, completely black. A very poisonous flower, something you don't find in a normal shop - even magical. It's trade is illegal.
The Lishrydig preys on the mind. Very similar to the black and blue flowers Bane introduced me to.
It is proving very difficult to find. Black flowers are in abundance, to distinguish which flower has seven petals is slow work. It is very unlikely that I find the Lishrydig.
Someone - or something - is coming. I press myself to a tree, one hand closing around a knife, the other ready to pull the cloak off.
Centaurs.
A strange mix of man and horse. These two carry bows and arrows, one of them has an arrow nocked.
They speak to each other in very low voices, passing by several feet away from me.
I don't catch the full conversation, but enough. They're talking about unicorns dying.
Tonight I don't turn back.
I follow the centaurs, moving close enough to be able to hear them - but they are silent now.
We come across thick silvery blood dotting the ground, the trail extending in two directions.
The other centaur arms himself, nocking an arrow. He moves very, very quickly.
"Follow?"
"Whatever it is, it might kill us."
"Coward."
"Not cowardice, Ronan. Sense. Mars is bright tonight."
"Mars is bright tonight," Ronan agrees. "Carefully then."
The two centaurs continue, following the trail of blood towards the right.
I follow the blood - in the opposite direction, to the left. The cloak is impeding my movements, and I slip it off. Dressed all in black, I blend in well. I have been trained after all. The art of invisibility...
I draw two small throwing knives. The drops of blood are almost continuous now - I must be on the right path.
Or wrong. A matter of perspective. I suppose most would run away from the unicorn and it's killer - not towards it.
Up ahead there is a loud, crashing sound. I take a few steps away, now moving in a path parallel to the trail of blood. Even from a few feet away, the trail is clear, shining.
My scar prickles. It doesn't pain, but it's odd.
Up ahead, there is a clearing. I stop and take cover behind a tree, peering out.
The unicorn is beautiful, even in death. It lies on its side in the center of the clearing, almost shining.
Even as I watch, the shine fades, the unicorn seems to dull. Only a few seconds later, it looks like an ordinary white horse.
But my eyes are fixed on it's attacker.
Crouched over the unicorn's head, it seems to be drinking right from the jugular. It lies almost flat on the ground, as if boneless, a wraith.
I sneak out to hide another tree, right on the edge of the clearing.
I almost let out a gasp, bending over as a stab of pain lances through my scar. The prickling is uncomfortable now.
I got this scar years back, and have never experienced anything like this. Voldemort gave me this scar...
Voldemort. A chill runs through my body.
Unicorn blood... Life... Cursed. One would have to be beyond desperate to consume it. Someone who has nothing to lose...
'I think he's out there, biding his time...' Andromeda's words flash through my head.
But this is Hogwarts, supposed to be one of the safest places on the planet. Albus Dumbledore himself is the headmaster - the only one Voldemort ever feared.
An inhumane slurping sound carries over to me as the monstrous wraith continues to drink the Unicorn's blood.
And then one of it's hind legs kick. It is slight, feeble, but nevertheless, the unicorn is still alive. Not for long though - it has lost too much blood.
I bend, picking up a small stone. I take a few more moments to glance around, plotting my attack, weighing my options.
The moon disappears behind a cloud. I take aim, draw my arm back, and wait. The moment the wraith bends to drink again, I throw. The stone arches high, falling to the wraith's left.
The second the stone leaves my hand, I move, swiftly flitting behind trees, keeping to the shadows.
A throwing knife arrows towards the wraith, even as it straightens out, looking towards where the stone had impacted. A moment later a second knife is in the air, then a third.
I pause, crouching, drawing another two knives.
The wraith seems to sense the knives. It jerks around, but the first knife strikes it, around what I assume is it's shoulder. The wraith raises an arm, and the remaining two knives are diverted an inch from it's body, deflecting away to fall harmlessly. The first knife falls to the ground by his feet.
The wraith straightens out. It is very human-like. For all I know it could be a human.
It waves an arm. I wait.
A second passes.
Two.
Three.
It should not be able to see me. I have moved swiftly, silently. I crouch in the shadows. But yet it looks right at me.
It's arm shoots out again, and a pale, human hand points at me. That is all the warning I get before a bolt of sickly grey forms from nothing, shooting straight at me.
I dive out of the way, throw a knife, roll away again. To my side, the grey bolt slams into the ground, leaving a small smoking crater.
My cover now blown I run just inside the clearing, along the edge.
I'm almost positive it's a man now. He shoots a few more of those sickly grey bolts at me, and I dodge, sending another knife his way. Again, it flicks it's wrist, and the knife deflects away harmlessly.
I palm a few special disks and set them off, throwing one at the man, the other at my feet.
Theatricality and deception... Smoke billows from the disks, and I take the opportunity to whip out the cloak and cover myself, slipping closer to the wraith.
The smoke clears quicker than it should have, and I stand still.
The man draws a wand. Both his arms are now raised, ready to attack.
He gives his wand another wave. Then another. Nothing happens. I shuffle closer.
I charge.
The man fires a red curse, but I dive, throwing the cloak off, and sliding the last few metres, the spell passing overhead.
I slam into his legs, but he manages to get off a curse at the last second. Pain flares at my right shoulder, I ignore it.
The man is sent crashing to the ground. His hood slips off, and despite all my training, I freeze at the sight of the person underneath.
Quirinus Quirrell.
The mistake costs me. Quirrell blasts the ground at his feet, sending out a shockwave. It affects us both, but also separates us, giving him the advantage of range once again.
Eleven inches of Holly slides into my right hand. I hold my wand in one hand, a throwing knife in the other. I only have three throwing knives left.
Or maybe not.
I throw a knife, quickly following up. "Petrificus Totalus, Wingardium Leviosa."
He bats away the knife, and seemingly absorbs the full body-bind. My second spell targets a knife lying on the ground between the two of us. It rises, and I waste no time shooting it as hard as I can at Quirrell.
The knife moves slowly, but the move is unexpected, and it gets under his guard. The knife skims the ground, and hits the man's leg before he manages to point a hand at it, sending it spinning away.
A dark, high, cold laughter.
I know this laughter, I know it all too well. I hear it almost every night, in my dreams.
A high cold laugh, a woman's screams, a flash of green...
I freeze. A cold hand clutches at my heart. The sense of wrongness is almost tangible.
The sound is soft, almost hoarse, and yet undeniably cruel. But Quirrell's lips don't move...
"Harry Potter."
My ski mask is still on. The lull in the fight makes me realize my scar is outright hurting now. I touch a finger to it, and it come away bloody. My shoulder aches where his curse hit, but a quick glance tells me blood is no longer dripping from the wound.
Now Quirrell's lips move. "Master?"
"Turn around... Let me speak to him... Face to face."
A sense of foreboding fills me, but I ready myself. If the man wants to turn around, I'm not going to pass up the opportunity.
Quirrell spins around. A knife is airborne the moment he begins to turn, but I cannot throw second knife I immediately palm.
Cannot - because of the face. There is another face at the back of Quirrell's head.
Chalk-white, slits for nose, red eyes, lipless mouth.
Lord Voldemort.
Quirrell's hand jerks, but too late. The first knife sinks partially into his side, and the man lets out an agonized cry.
"Take off the mask Harry, take it off..." The voice is cold, Voldemort speaks almost in a hiss.
I say nothing, and the lipless mouth curls into a gruesome smirk.
"See what I have become? Mere shadow and vapor..."
I throw out another full body-bind, letting loose the last of my two throwing knives. Voldemort bats them all away, but I close the distance, my wand slipping back into it's holster, fingers grasping twin gleaming knives of Jade...
Quirrell seems to be just as functional with his back to me as his front. He quickly scuttles backwards, letting loose a curse.
I dodge, getting closer, almost in range...
The man jumps, straight up into the air. He soars above my first slash, but the second knife cuts at his leg.
Quirrell flies, seemingly without any aid, he flies through the air - somewhat jerkily, landing awkwardly on one leg, Quirrell-face towards me. I move to close the distance again, and the man waves his wand.
Ropes coalesce from thin air, arching towards me. I roll, duck, slash, but he simply conjures up more ropes.
Adrenaline fuels my body as I twist away, green knives flashing through the air, cutting, slashing...
The ropes finally drop into pieces, and Voldemort laughs again, his face once again towards me.
"Powerful, and brave... Like your parents. I value bravery, Harry, your parents died quickly - although your mother needn't have..." The lipless mouth curves again.
I try once again to close the distance. This time he attacks with arcs of dark red, and I have to dive away.
"I have seen the darkness within you Potter. We are not unlike, you and me. Join me, Harry, and you will be rewarded, beyond your wildest dreams. I can give you everything you want and more, revenge, power... your parents."
"Necromancy doesn't really appeal to me," I reply, answering him for the first time.
"It is Power, Harry... Power. It is a truth of life, one I believe you understand. There is no good or evil... only Power, and those too weak to seek it."
"There's truth in that," I agree. "If I were to join you, where would I stand?"
"Right besides me," Voldemort replies. "I have observed you Harry, it would be a waste to kill you. I can teach you magic long forgotten, give you whatever you deeply desire."
I lick my lips. They are extremely dry. "Which is?"
"Power, of course."
I say nothing.
"You wear a mask Harry, a mask that I wore myself, when I walked these forests as a student myself... tell me Harry, do you not desire Power? Tell me, tell me this... do you care for Sally Kyle?"
I take a few steps towards him, and he does not react.
"Think, think carefully. Do you truly believe in the good of others, that she would give up everything for you, that she cares for you, that she loves you?" His voice is mocking, unbelieving. "And does she truly, really mean more to you, than you yourself. Look how quick people were to betray you, brand you evil, the newspapers... Sentiment, Harry, is false, utterly false. She will betray you, they all will..."
I continue to move around him, and Quirrell swivels slowly on one heel, Voldemort always facing me.
"I know the truths of life and death, Harry. You would want for nothing... not Sally Kyle, nothing...tell me. Tell me."
"I don't know."
"Think Harry... you know the truth... you are alone..."
I stop, facing him. We are very close now, and my scar burns.
I reverse the hold on both the knives, and hold them loosely, arms extended. I take another step towards Voldemort, and let one knife fall.
"You will teach me." I say.
"I will," Voldemort replies.
I nod, and then let the second knife fall.
It falls, handle-first towards the ground...
My right foot sweeps up, punting the knife straight at Voldemort, at point blank range.
He almost falls, stumbling backwards, Quirrell's arms twisted, the wand coming up to point at me.
My right fist connects with Voldemort's face, and an unearthly howl splits the night. Right where I punched him, his skin begins to smoulder, and he screams in pain, Quirrell screaming with him.
My scar burns, the pain spiking high, blood running down the side of my face. My head pounds, my skull feels like it will split open...
His arms come up again, and I chop at both, hitting the exposed flesh with the flat of my hands. My scar explodes in pain, Quirrell's skin burns where I touched him...
He cannot stand direct skin contact.
I give no respite, kicking the back of his knee, even as he tries to turn around. He stumbles, and I grasp hold of his head, my fingers digging into his bare scalp.
The pain in my head is almost unbearable. It builds, builds further, and Quirrell screams.
"Kill him, kill him!"
I dig my fingers in even harder. Blood runs into my eye from my scar, my vision blurs, blackness creeping in.
His skin smolders underneath my fingers, then gives away, and he falls like a puppet, strings severed...
And then the blackness takes over.
(0)
My body is sore, I have a mild headache.
I am lying on what feels like a bed of very, very soft grass. My ski mask is missing. Crickets chirp, low voices reach me.
It sounds like an argument. I hear the clip-clop of hooves, and... a whinny?
I crack open an eye, and blink quickly, taking in my surroundings. It is night, I lie in a clearing under the stars. Ahead of me I spy moving figures. Centaurs.
A few feet to my left lies a bundle. I see the handle of a green knife jutting out from the folds of my invisibility cloak.
I shut my eyes and take a few deep breaths, readying myself.
I roll over quickly, trying to get my feet and snatch my weapons, but severe nausea hits me, and I end up falling over. My muscles protest, my head pounds, and the world spins around me.
The centaurs are immediately around me. I wait for a few seconds, and then manage to get my head up.
There are three centaurs. One of them steps forward, and leans over me. He has white-blond hair, and clear blue eyes.
"My name is Firenze, Harry Potter."
"Explain," I say.
"Arrogant humans," one of them snorts.
What did Selina say? Magic words...
"Please," I add.
"We found you near the unicorn, near the Evil One. You have been unconscious for a full day, we found you last night."
"Quirrell?" I ask. My chest pains, so I keep my sentences short.
"Who?"
"The other guy... he killed the unicorn."
"The Evil One, yes..." Firenze blinks, and peers at me even closer. "He had darkness clinging to him, even in death... you killed him."
"His body?"
"Burnt," Firenze replies. "We thank you for avenging the unicorn, but you are young to kill so..."
"I'm different," I reply. "Thanks for helping me, I need to get back to Hogwarts."
"Mars is bright," Firenze replies, gazing up at the skies.
"The heavens themselves bore witness to your fight," another centaur says. "Darkness, Harry Potter..."
"It was Voldemort," I say. "Darkness is his thing."
"Darkness within you," the centaur replies, his eyes fixed on the stars above.
"Mars is bright," Firenze repeats.
My head is getting heavier. I exert my brain, thinking past the headache. My knives, weapons... I cannot go to Hogwarts with them on me right now...
"I fought for the citizens of this forest," I whisper. "Safeguard my belongings, I will be back for them. Now, point me towards Hogwarts."
"I will help you there," Firenze says. "I will take you to Hagrid."
The centaur who snorted before, makes a sound of derision, and Firenze turns sharply upon him. They lock gazes, and the other centaur makes a growling sound, turning tail and stalking away.
My eyes are closed now, my head throbs even more.
"Mars is bright." Firenze says again, his head now only inches from mine. His breath blows over my neck, but there is nothing I can do. I am tired, weak, vulnerable. I have no option, I have to trust them.
"Master the Dark, Harry Potter," Firenze says. "Or Mars will burn with you."
I give in, and sleep overtakes me.
(0)
When I awake next, I find myself lying in a soft bed. I feel a lot better.
I open my eyes, and white assaults me.
I'm lying on a soft white bed, facing a high ceiling made of pale marble. A few lights burn - it is nighttime. A long gown covers me -white, of course.
The Hospital Wing. I am at Hogwarts.
My eyes fall upon a figure sitting besides my bed, and my heart almost skips a beat. She slouches in her chair, clothes crumpled, a book lying shut on her lap.
Selina.
I try to get up, and my head spins - but not much. It takes less than a minute for the world to stop spinning, and I sit up, propping up the pillows. A small table lies next to Selina. A bell lies on the table, along with fruits and water.
Suddenly feeling extremely hungry, I get out of the bed. Nausea hits, but goes fairly quickly. I demolish a pear, downing two glasses of water.
I prop up the pillows, and sit up on the bed. I close my eyes, taking deep breaths.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Voldemort was at Hogwarts. He was living at the back of Quirrell's head, right under Dumbledore's nose.
Inhale.
Exhale.
The Dark Lord's speech had hit very close to home. Voldemort seemed to know. Almost as if he understood. Was Tom Riddle all that different from Harry Potter?
There is no good or evil, only power, and those too weak to seek it... It is true, perhaps not completely, but close. Power set me free, Power will keep me safe.
For a very, very brief moment, I had considered taking him up on his offer.
Tom Riddle must have been a very charismatic man.
Inhale.
Exhale.
I froze. Not once, but twice. I froze during the fight, and it cost me. I made mistakes - stupid, careless mistakes. I let emotions, surprise, get the better of me. Voldemort could have killed me in the forest, and it would be my fault for giving him the opening.
It will not happen again.
Inhale.
Exhale.
My knives, the cloak - they're with the centaurs. I will need to go collect them as soon as possible. My wand lies in it's holster, secure on my forearm.
His final question - Voldemort questioned my emotions for Sally.
I don't know, I had answered. Do I? Don't I?
Sally and Selina could turn on me tomorrow, and what could I do about that? Selina could kick me out of her apartment tomorrow, and who would tell her otherwise? She has no obligation, no duty to watch over me...
And yet she is here. Her face looks drawn, tired. Her clothes are rumpled - which is telling considering that this is Selina.
I gaze at her face and wonder whether I truly feel for them.
Yes, I decide. I do.
Of course I do.
Sleep overtakes me.
(0)
Sunlight is pouring through the large windows when I wake. I blink, instantly alert.
Selina is no longer sits by my side - although the table and chair are still there.
I stretch, and yawn widely.
"Mr Potter!"
I turn my head to see Madam Pomfrey bustling over towards me.
"Madam Pomfrey," I acknowledge, wincing at my voice.
I slide off the bed, taking a glass of water from the table nearby.
"Mr Potter!" she shrieks, and this time it is not in greeting. "Get back into bed, now!"
I blink. "Excuse me?"
She seems to grow on the spot. "Excuse me? Excuse me indeed! Bed, now!"
I down the glass of water in two long gulps, and meet her eyes. She doesn't back down, surprisingly.
"Don't you glare at me young man!" she warns.
"I wasn't glaring!" I protest immediately, before snapping my mouth shut. I did not mean to say that, but the nurse sort of inspires reaction.
"Where's Selina?" I ask quickly, before she can say anything else.
"Your guardian has gone for a walk, she was dreadfully worried, poor thing. She'll be back soon, and you will wait in bed, quietly. Understand?"
I sit on the bed, only because I want to wait for Selina. My face is blank as I nod.
Her features soften.
"You need to rest, you gave us an awful fright, Hagrid carrying you in here, saying something about centaurs and the forbidden forest." She gives me a curious look, but I offer no information, swinging my legs up and on the bed.
My eyes close, and she sighs softly, walking away.
I wait till she disappears into her office, and stand up once more. My muscles feel tight, and I start basic stretches.
It is only a little while later that Selina returns. My mismatched eyes meet her black orbs, and her eyes widen.
Her arms encircle me, and I relax.
"Harry," she murmurs.
"Selina," I reply, allowing warmth to color my tone.
Her grip tightens, her long nails dig painfully into my arms.
She pulls back, her hands still clutching my arms. I suppress a wince.
"Explain," she demands.
I incline my head at the chair. "We could -"
She tightens her hold on my arms even further, and I grit my teeth. "Harry. Explain. Now."
"I was in the forest, came across something feeding off a unicorn. It turned out to be Voldemort, he was sharing my Defence Against the Darks teacher... he had a face at the back of Quirrell's head."
Her eyes widen. "Voldemort?"
"Yeah. He talks too much, he wanted me to join him..." I trail off, wondering what to tell her, how much to tell her. Should I ask her, should I not...
"Then?"
"I got in range, punched him in the face. It was strange, he couldn't stand skin contact, it burned him wherever I touched. Quirrell died, the centaurs burnt his body. I don't know what happened to Voldemort."
Her lips are pressed into a thin line, emotions flash through her eyes. Anger, yes. And concern?
Yes. Concern.
"My scar hurt though, I lost consciousness. I woke up, some centaurs were there - they got me to Hagrid."
My arms are going to bruise. I shift a bit, but her grip remains vice-like.
"Where are your weapons?"
"With the centaurs. I couldn't risk them being found on me when Hagrid got me here. I'll collect them as soon as I can."
Her fingers finally slacken, and she moves to the chair, sitting down. I seat myself on the bed, opposite her.
"How'd you get here?" I ask.
"Sally told me you'd been missing for a day, and then Hagrid brought you during dinner last night. I got Andromeda to get me to Hogwarts."
I turn my head, and fix a smile on my face. "Do join us, Headmaster."
Dumbledore has just entered, he walks over. Selina eyes him, her face emotionless.
The Headmaster waves his wand, and conjures a plush chair. He sits down, facing me and Selina.
"I do hope you feel better, Harry."
"I do. You must have quite a few questions."
"Indeed, although they can wait till you regain your strength."
"Now is fine, Professor. I have some questions of my own."
He frowns, and nods. "What happened, Harry?"
"I was in the forest, simply walking about. I know it's against school rules, but that's what happened. I came across Professor Quirrell killing a unicorn, drinking it's blood."
Dumbledore only frowns. A master of his own emotions.
"Quirrell was sharing space with Voldemort himself, at the back of his head. How exactly did the Dark Lord slip by the school's defences?"
Dumbledore's mouth opens slightly, unable to completely hide his shock at this. "I will tell you what I know, but if you would continue..."
"I punched his face. Something odd happened, his skin was burnt wherever we made skin contact."
Dumbledore nods, and he looks.. relieved?
"Yes," he says. "Your mother invoked powerful magic when she defended you. Her sacrifice left a protection running through your veins. I believe that is why Voldemort couldn't stand your skin. Your mother loved you very much, her pure emotions involve magic that Voldemort can never understand, it burnt him to touch something so pure."
I can barely keep myself from scoffing out loud. My mother may have sacrificed herself because she loved me, but her love burnt Voldemort?
"Do not underestimate the power of love, Harry."
"Quirrell fell, and I woke up here," I conclude.
Dumbledore sighs. "The Forest is Forbidden, Harry. It would be best to never wander there again... As for Voldemort, that is very much my fault, I'm afraid. He barely exists, Harry, and that enabled him to slip under the defenses. I should have been more wary." His blue eyes are fixed on my mismatched orbs.
"What Voldemort is, I cannot say. He has delved into magic, dark and horrifying. I believe he is no longer fully human, no more than a whisper of a shade, but nevertheless alive."
"Professor Quirrell died," he continues. "I hope you realize it is not your fault, he, like many others have fallen prey to Voldemort's persuasion. Tom Riddle was a very charismatic young man, he swayed many to his cause."
"He tried to kill me. I'm sorry he died, but I'm just happy he didn't succeed," I say. A lie, but mixed with truth. Dumbledore nods slowly. Perhaps he bought it, perhaps he didn't.
"We shall speak about this some more Harry, but later. I do believe Poppy is quite ready to throw me out of her domain." He leans forward, his eyes twinkling. "Never cross her Harry, a formidable witch, she is."
Speak of the devil... the healer comes out of her office.
"Albus, he needs rest!"
"I was just leaving, Poppy," he tells the nurse, who strides over to us, displeasure evident on her face. "Miss Kyle, if I could have a word with you later?"
Selina nods, and Headmaster rises, and bids us farewell, just as Madam Pomfrey reaches us.
The nurse reaches out, and I instinctively draw back. She acts as if I hadn't, simply dropping her hand.
"I will need to examine your shoulder."
I pull the gown down over my shoulder. A scar has formed where Voldemort cursed me, faint purple now.
"There was a buildup of blood in his shoulder," she informs Selina, peering close at the injury. "I had to draw out the bad blood, and give him a blood replenishing potion."
I find it strange she does not address me, before realizing this is how it must normally be. Selina acts as my guardian - Madam Pomfrey will talk to her, confer with her, defer to her for any decisions to be made.
It could be Lily Potter sitting in that chair, and Madam Pomfrey would perhaps act the same way. Perhaps this is what mothers do. I do not know how I feel about that.
"It is healing very fast, unusually so. Nothing to worry about though..." the nurse hands Selina a tube. "He will need to apply that cream at least twice a day. The scarring should disappear within a week. And you Mr. Potter, need to remain in that bed till I say you can leave. Plenty of rest, that's what you need."
"I don't like being confined, Madam Pomfrey," I tell her. "Thank you for your help, but I'd like to leave now."
"You will follow my instructions while under my care" she retorts. "Humph. The young are always so restless."
Selina puts a hand on my knee, squeezing lightly. I say nothing more, and the nurse departs shortly.
"She's just doing her job," Selina explains. "She thinks you need to rest. How do you feel?"
"I'm fine Selina. I'm going to my dorm, right now."
"I'd hate to be irresponsible and let you leave." She gets to her feet, walking towards the exit.
She looks back over her shoulder at me, a smile gracing her lips. "Well? Are you coming?"
I smile back.
"Yeah."
(0)
And that's the end of the first year.
A few explanations -
Harry does not have a lot of combat experience in real-life situations. So he made mistakes, he froze. He's strong, but not perfect.
When drinking unicorn blood, Voldemort is more powerful, and his presence is heavier, more tangible, and so Harry's scar prickles. In class, he closes up to avoid detection by Dumbledore, suppresses his aura, his magic, and so Harry's scar doesn't prickle.
The first time Quirrell looks right at Harry, he's used a simple detection spell - like Homenum Revelio. The second time he tries it, Harry's under the invisibility cloak.
The cloak is a hallow, detection spells should not work. Maybe that's breaking canon - but that's how its going to be.
Selina gripping Harry's arms - I never said that Selina is a perfect maternal figure. Catwoman is far from perfect. She's impulsive, prone to fits of emotion that drive her actions.
Thank you for reading.
Reviews motivate me to write further. Do let me know what you thought of it.
Toodles,
timefreak