Author: mintapotter

Overview: Harry's seeing and hearing things he's not supposed to, and the unseen consequences could be higher then anyone expected.

Warning: SLASH! Guy/Guys! If you no likee, you no readee.

A/N: Selune, newtypeshadow, Lilith-Fey, blulily07, brionyjae, Tattooed-On-My-Memory Kar'Nia, Meg Finn, Alexa82 &Blue Lycan!

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Chapter 11 – Circus Freak

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I follow Dumbledore blindly, through hallways and down remote looking corridors, passing people by but never saying a word to any of them. He stops a few times and speaks briefly with people behind wide desks, but I never listen in. I'm pretty sure that whatever he's talking about with them will be said to me soon enough.

He leads me into a nicely lit room with comfy looking red velvet chairs and gleaming wooden tables. I take a seat when he motions me to, then wait in silence as 3 other people enter behind us.

The first two are Healers from St. Mungo's, wearing the lime green robes with the Hospitals crest embroidered boldly on them. They introduce themselves hesitantly to me, shaking hands briefly like they might catch an undesirable disease if our skin touches too long. I immediately dislike them, their hushed conversation with Dumbledore, their doughy faces and candesendant stares.

The third person that enters a minute or so later is someone I very much did not expect to see here. Professor Snape sweeps in his own self-created glory, his smirk firmly in place, his tone perfect as he addresses me as "Mr. Potter."

"Professor Snape…sir." I allow myself a tiny smile at the memory of him enforcing me to always call him sir, a smile that begins only half formed and dies halfway through.

"I believe that we are all now assembled and should get this started as soon as possible." They all take seats across from me, a feeling of interrogation settling uncomfortably over me. "Harry, these Healers and Professor Snape and I are all here to help you. To try and understand exactly what's happened in the past few days, what's still happening now."

I don't nod or respond, anger causing my jaw to lock shut. He continues like he wasn't expecting me to speak anyway.

"I only understand that you saw something that day, something that tipped you off or gave you a clue as to what was coming. You saw something that saved Mr. Malfoys life, only floors above us as we speak." I smile on the inside at this, the thoughts of Draco alive and well above me in this very hospital making the weight in my chest lighten slightly. "Only today you suffered a very real attack from something, something the rest of the room could not even see. And only moments ago in the hallway you appeared terri-"

"Stop." I can't stand the idea of Snape knowing that I was cowering in the hallway, terrified of the sight of a little girl.

"Just…" I sigh deeply, run my hands through my hair and wipe my eyes. "It's hard to explain." None of them are looking at my face, all of them staring intently at my hand instead. The raw cuts of before are now angry red lines instead, only faintly healed. My knuckles are still red and bruising from this morning as well, and now I am grateful for the bite the girl gave me because it gives me a reason for them to be there.

"I can see things. People, to be more exact. I can't tell if they're dead or alive somewhere in the world, if they are dying or are trying to warn me of things that they will do… I just can't tell." Dumbledore sits in his chair silently, pensive at my words. Snape maintains an air of disinterest, while the Healers are practically leaning into the table to hear me better, hanging onto every word.

"The only way I can tell them from real people is their… eyes. They don't have any. Or they do but they're white, misty. And they're perfect, too perfect to be real." My throat closes up, the memory of the little girl changing from the cute version to her hideous counterpart still clinging to my mind. "I don't think that they can normally talk or make any sound, if they can communicate for a purpose or just randomly. Only one has actually touched me to harm me, the little girl that bit my wrist." I wave the hand to make a point, watching with distant amusement as the Healers watch it like slobbering dogs over a piece of bloody meat. I suppose that's what I am to them. I prize to work with, work on. To decipher or treat the delusional, crazy Harry Potter or to find out that he is a true seer with amazing powers. I push these thoughts back and breathe deeply to continue.

"But what do they do?" Snape manages to keep a bored tone even when he says this, and my anger overcomes the need to keep all my thoughts private.

"They show me things. The first one showed me what would happen right before Mrs. Weasley died; only he wasn't the killer. The second one was Draco screaming bloody murder without making a sound, and that's nearly exactly what actually happened. The rest just die all over the place. They are Crucioed, knife themselves, and are exterminated by Avada Kedavra. The little girl went from pretty and cute to devilish and took a large bite out of my hand. That's what they do, sir." I say this quickly, satisfaction seeping into my veins with the looks left behind on all of their faces.

"The thing is that I don't know what they are, why they come, what they're capable of or how they come and go. They just disappear and reappear, randomly it seems. If any of you has an answer to this I would really appreciate it because my biggest prerogative is to make it all. Just. Stop." I start where I start, asking for it all to stop. I can tell that this is the last thing that the Healers want. They want to study me, strap me to a table and figure out what's fucked up in my brain this time, to win an award for figuring it out.

"Well," Dumbledore starts, "I have never heard of such a thing, let alone seen it. I need to think on this for a time before I can give you any of my answers Harry. What is it for the rest of you?"

The chubbier of the two Healers goes first. "I believe it to be a transformation on the Seer ability, triggered to see exact people rather than prophecies by some traumatic event." I scoff at this and disguise it as a cough quickly.

A traumatic event. If he only knew…

"I believe it to be a form of mind reading, telling not the future but people's thoughts before or after they do things or commit acts." Both of their hypothesis seem bogus to me, but of equal value. I'm now only waiting on Snape's word, his take on this entire situation.

"I believe," he lips his lips and thinks about his words, forming them painfully slowly, "That these are a figment of a broken imagination." The Healers raise eyebrows and Dumbledore questions him to explain, but my blood is already boiling at his allegation.

"Look at this!" I want to scream at his face. "Is this a figment of my 'broken imagination'?" I curtail my rage, waiting for him to explain and leave before I unleash it on anything.

"It seems quite simple actually. His mind is willing things to happen and creating images of these hopes as an illusion rather than a memory or a bad dream. Then they really do happen out of sheer willpower and magic, not because of destiny."

"What about these? Am I imagining these?" I wave my wrist up in the air again, barely managing not to yell in his face, but my voice does nothing to mask my anger towards him.

"You did not actually create them, but I believe that you did self-inflict them without knowing it. Through a mixture of intense magical power and sheer willpower and want, you made what you imagined real." I shake my head at him, incredulous that he'd even bring this up as an option. "Think of all the times you really wanted something Potter, even before you knew about magic. Could you will them to happen without an explanation?"

At first I want to blurt out 'No', but then all the memories of that exact scenario scream out at me. When my hair was shorn off and it grew back overnight, when I needed to get away from Dudley's gang and somehow landed on the school rooftop…

"But…" my voice is small now, cracking, "but I didn't want these things to happen. I didn't want Mrs. Weasley to die, I didn't want Draco to get hurt, and I didn't want to be hurt…"even as I say the words I know that they're not true.

I loved Mrs. Weasley dearly, but I wasn't particularly looking out for her safety. When you are around me, that is like having a death wish. Yes, I used to have a deep hatred of Draco but not at the time, so maybe that was a suppressed thought. And to hurt myself? Well, I had gone as far as smashing the mirror and hiding the knife. That was something just waiting to happen…

"Severus, I do not think that that is a realistic approach to answering this scenario and I want to speak with you after. Privately." Dumbledore speaks to him like a Headmaster would speak to an unruly student, clearly angered by his words. "Gentlemen, thank you for coming but your services are no longer needed." The Healers are clearly not ready to leave but thank Dumbledore and myself anyway and show themselves out.

I sit in silence, thinking through every scenario. If even the suppressed thoughts of my mind can cause pain, then even I can't control myself. If I'm the one causing all this than it really is my entire fault, and even with my hero-complex I can't save the people around me…

"Severus, that was completely uncalled for. I firstly refuse to believe it as an option, and secondly am very angry that you would even bring that up as an idea for Harry to dwell on." Snape looks remorseful to Dumbledore, but still has an air of not caring about the entire situation.

"And Harry, I'm sorry that you had to go through all those things again. I simply needed to know what was happening with you and thought it best to get a few more opinions on the matter." I shrug it off, picking at the edges of my nails until they bleed, just to see if they will.

"If you would like me to escort you back to the waiting room…" I'm already shaking my head 'no' and heading out the door, running away through the corridors and not stopping until I am on a completely different floor, no idea how I got here or why. I slump into a chair and continue to pick at my nails, sucking the blood off my fingertip every so often to keep it from leaking into my trousers.

Any anger towards anyone is dangerous. If I am angry at Dumbledore for that meeting, or the Healers, or Snape, or Ron… I can't be angry at them. I cannot be angry with anyone but myself. I can hurt myself, as long as I don't hurt them…

"Mr. Potter? Are you here to see Draco? You have half an hour if you'd like." A nice looking Healer stands in front of me, balancing a chart against her hip and twisting a quill between her ink-stained fingertips.

"That would be… great." I twitch my muscles into a smile, feeling like I'm a circus performer putting on a show. She smiles a genuine smile back at me and unlocks his door with a wave of her wand, wandering off to check on the other patients in the ward.

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A/N: Please review and as always,

mintapotter