Those- Who- Lived
Chapter Twelve
Four days later, Alan was awake and sitting cross-legged on his hospital bed, holding his wand loosely in his teeth as he read one of his potions book late into the evening. On the bed just to his right, Green was sleeping in a very uncomfortable looking sprawl half-off the bed. There were still concerns about long-term damage he might have from the poison. So far, there had not been many true worries. Alan was in dangerous territory with magical exhaustion -the pendant had been tapping into his magic in part- and he still trembled some, but both were expected to heal given time. The poison from the basilisk was gone, and the remnant effects of the ink were simply a chronic ache in his chest and head. However, recovering from poison was not something Alan was unfamiliar with, so he was naturally stubborn enough to ignore orders and use his magic for a weak light and remain awake late at night. He certainly didn't have classes to worry about, and lumos was not a very draining spell.
It was due to Alan being wide-awake that he noticed immediately when the door to the hospital wing moved. Alan quickly extinguished the light and closed his book, lying back on his bed, with the book under his arm as whoever it was came in. Alan watched, though, not closing his eyes. He was surprised to see nobody, even as the door finished opening, and then was slowly closed once more. Alan was impressed. Whoever it was was completely invisible and as of that moment had made no sound. Several more moments passed in silence, and Alan scanned the hospital wing as much as he could from his position. He saw and heard nothing, save a short snort from Green on the bed.
"Prince?"
Alan whipped his eyes up to the air beside his bed. "Who," Alan whispered in return, his eyebrows ducking down in confusion. Whoever had spoken had been practically right next to him. But the voice had also been very familiar.
Alan jumped as air suddenly rippled aside to reveal Harry Potter, standing right by his bed. Alan sat up slowly, watching him, and cursing himself. He knew Potter had an invisibility cloak. He knew he did; he'd run into him last year while he was using the thing. However, Alan immediately noticed the horrible pallor of Potter's face and looked at him curiously. Potter swallowed, and gestured weakly to Alan's bed. In response, Alan curled up his legs and sat up cross-legged once more, giving Potter a wry smile.
"By all means, join me. I'm rather bored stuck in here."
Potter hopped up and sat down, stuffing his cloak into his lap and looking him over with a drawn expression. Alan grew concerned. Potter never looked this sickly before. He hadn't thought Potter had gotten hurt down there, but maybe his dad had been wrong …
"Are you doing okay, Prince?" Potter asked. "No one will tell me the truth."
Alan blinked. Wait, Potter was concerned for him? "I'm doing fine, really. Nothing worse than what's happened before." Potter looked at him, and Alan bristled. He didn't need to look like he thought he was nuts. "I've been in accidents with Green before where I got poisoned, Potter. My necklace keeps the poison back, though, so I was fine."
"It nearly got overwhelmed, though." Potter whispered. Alan froze. Green hadn't mentioned that.
"How do you know that?" Alan murmured.
"I overheard my dad asking your uncle when they'd thought I was asleep. They gave me a sleeping draught, but it didn't work immediately. They were talking at the end of my bed." Potter looked down at his lap, his voice tiny. "You nearly died, and it was my fault."
Alan twitched, and then cuffed Potter lightly on his ear. Potter looked at him, offended, and Alan glared back. "It was not your fault, and don't you dare take any responsibility for my actions. That whole fiasco was stupid but unavoidable. I didn't talk to you because I thought you were dumb, Potter, so don't prove me wrong." As he'd expected, the insinuation put Potter's back clean up, and Alan grinned. "And I'm alive now. I'll be fine. It's just a bit of soreness and magical exhaustion. I should be out of here in about a week." Alan paused, and took in Potter's haggard looks. Dark circles ran beneath his eyes, and his hair was more of a bird's nest than before. His mouth was a tight line, and Alan sighed. "Thanks for the worry, though."
Potter's mouth twitched into a small smile. "Does this mean I can get answers now?"
Alan flinched. He'd hoped Potter would forget all of the stuff that had been talked about down in the Chamber. "Potter …"
"Fair's fair. You said it; it's fair game. I won't talk about it to anyone else. I just want to know."
Alan ran his fingers through his hair, and frowned. "Fine. You have to find the questions, though."
"So you're really Snape's son?" Alan nodded tersely. "Why weren't you raised by him?"
Alan frowned, and looked down at the book in his hands. "Because he never knew I existed. My mother … She was killed by Voldemort. My godfather brought me to Geoffrey just after that, and I was raised by my aunt and uncle. My father wasn't told because … there were other things to consider. I'm not going into them."
Potter frowned, "Is that also why you have a different name? Those 'other things'?" Alan nodded tersely to that as well. Potter looked at him with a careful eye, looking more alive than he had since coming in. "There's a lot more to those 'other things' than there is to what I know, isn't there?"
Alan gave him a playful smirk, and raised his eyebrows. Potter shook his head slowly. "So … are you actually an heir of Slytherin like you said?"
Alan rubbed his face slowly and nodded reluctantly. "Through my mother, I am."
Potter laughed lightly. "Are you sure it's not through Snape?"
"Yes," Alan grinned. "I'm sure."
"And your surviving is among the 'Other Things.'" Potter finished. Alan flinched once more and nodded reluctantly. Potter sighed. "That's … one Hell of a life. How are you so normal?"
Alan smiled, feeling the nostalgia he always got when he considered his life. "Because of Geoffrey. Him and my godfather." Potter gave him a confused look, and Alan just shrugged. He didn't really understand why himself. "I suppose they never told me I was different so I always believed them."
Potter sighed, and looked down at his cloak, fisting his hand in the fabric. "I wish I could just be myself. Everyone thinks I'm going to be just like my dad."
"You're not." Alan said. Potter looked up at him, and Alan gave him his most honest stare. He wanted Potter to believe him. "You're not your father."
"You know that, Prince. Neville knows that." Potter scowled. "I don't think my dad or mom do, though. And … I'm not wanting to disillusion them about it, either."
"You're scared of your father." Alan snapped. Sometimes Potter was so stupid. Potter flinched at the words. "It's really clear, Potter." Alan turned the name into an insult. "You won't tell him anything, and you don't dare act openly about who you are. You didn't even tell him outright you were a parselmouth. You let him find out from the other parents, didn't you?" Potter's flinch told him enough. "You're scared he'll hate you for being different." Alan grabbed the snake pendent Potter wore, and pulled it tight on its chain. "Do you think this means nothing? He bought it for you. He's not going to hate you, Potter, so stop being so damn afraid."
Alan released it and sat back, staring intently at where Potter sat. Potter looked torn between being furious and being ashamed. Both barely masked the real terror buried behind them, and Alan frowned. Potter really was scared. He was absolutely terrified of his father, and he was convinced it was accurate. Alan shivered as he remembered his worst memory, and then he looked at Potter again. Maybe …
"You ran into a boggart, didn't you?"
Potter jumped. Alan raised his eyebrow and said nothing more. Potter wiped his face and nipped a finger before he nodded slowly. "It was my father, yelling at me for being … a … a disgrace. He –he told me …"
"It was a boggart, Potter." Alan drawled. Potter flinched.
"I know that, but it certainly wasn't wrong! He would react like that! I know he would; he's done it before!"
Alan felt an inexplicable anger at hearing that. "He what?"
Potter ducked his head once more, and didn't answer. Alan suppressed his desire to know, and glanced aside before he spoke. "I face a boggart and I see my godfather dead. It's not wrong, no. But it's not right either. It doesn't say anything about what really will happen. Do you think your dad could hate something more than he loves you?"
Potter fell silent and sat silently in place. Alan let him think, toying with his book and then placing it on the nightstand. Alan turned back to Potter and gave him a small smile. He really did love talking with Potter. He was smart, clever, and he wanted to learn. Alan had always felt like he left the other kids behind in America, and here. Potter fought tooth and nail to keep up and, despite all odds, succeeded. Alan stuck his hand out and smiled at Potter.
"Call me Alan."
IIII
Harry had been worried the days since the basilisk was done in. Everyone had noticed, and it finally went around that Harry was feeling responsible for Prince's condition. Several people tried to comfort him, but any of them commenting on the fact that Prince was Slytherin would send Harry running down the corridors. He didn't want to talk to anyone. He determinedly maintained he did not cry, he hadn't cried since he'd been in the library, but somehow his face had always ended up wet after he'd ran off, and he always felt stuffy and despondent. But he was not crying.
His father, who had remained at the school in support of Harry and also as a bit of 'extra security just to be sure' even if it was a little late, had informed Harry two days later that Prince had woken up, but that he was still sick. Again, it was basilisk poison they said. The damage wouldn't go away easily nor quickly. Harry had felt remotely better, but he still worried about what might happen to Prince anyways. He knew, he'd looked it up once more, that basilisk poison's only counter was phoenix tears. Alan's survival argued that Green had had some, but what still was hurting him terrified Harry as the only thing he could think of was the diary, and he had no clue what that might do or have done. Finally, the evening of the fourth day after the basilisk showdown, Harry took his invisibility cloak and snuck in.
The answers he got were … surprising, but not too much so. It had been fairly easy to suspect most of them. He hadn't thought Prince would defend his father's side though. Everyone knew how much James Potter hated Slytherins. But Prince had a point.
"Call me Alan."
Harry stopped dead. "What?"
Prince looked him over with amusement once more. "I said 'call me Alan'."
The simplicity of the statement belied what Harry was running through his head. He'd never even considered calling Prince –Alan- by his first name. But he supposed it shouldn't be too strange. Harry hadn't been thick enough to think he was as distraught as he was without valuing Pri- Alan's friendship. Apparently his own friendship was appreciated in turn. The thought warmed Harry as he smiled back at Alan and took Alan's offered hand.
"Then call me Harry."
A/N: End of second year.
Now, third year will be a non-event since there are no evil Azkaban escapees. To be kind, I'll post the chapter that gives an ... interesting form of summary for it, next week, followed with the beginning of fourth year the week after. I hope you all will like it. Reviews will make me far more inclined to hold to that, hm? Reviews make me very happy, and very appreciated. I'd thank reviewers if I'd actually had any last chapter ... glares Please? offers up kitty cat For the siamese?
Fire & Napalm
