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Everything was black around Harry, but he was used to this. This black though seemed to be a different type. It looked the same but felt different. He'd find patches of happiness that made him warm, and patches of anger and sadness that made him cold.
He opened his eyes, still unable to move. He could move, technically, but it only would be in small twitches, spasms of the muscles, or the slight movement of his fingers and toes. It was an improvement though, but he knew now the pain was filled with the healing power. Whenever the pain came, he could feel the holes being repaired. In a way, he hated when the magic decided to work on his brain, since the pain would seem to double up and he couldn't do anything to try to make it feel better.
His thoughts spun, knowing none made sense. Lately though, he had been seeing a lot more visions and felt a lot more pain, sometimes to the breaking point of insanity, yet never crossing.
Whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger, the old saying went, crossing his mind quickly.
"How true," he responded aloud, his voice now raspy and barely above a whisper of breath.
He could still remember for some reason every moment the pain had gripped him, and thought he could figure out when he'd be able to move completely. He saw something outside the corner of his vision, causing him to shut his eyes. He was sick of the dreams and visions. They had started to mix together when he slept, which made it hard to sort out what was real and what wasn't. He just wanted all of this to be a dream.
The vision though came across Harry, slightly faded. He saw Voldemort in a room that was full of items, appearing to be creatures in jars and drawers that were labeled. Harry recognized them to be potion items, and the cauldron on the flame made the word "Duh" protrude largely in his mind.
Voldemort was stirring the cauldron, a book propped open on a stand. Harry saw the words: Sleeping Draught. For nights only, use first recipe. For up to a month see second recipe. For longer than a month, see example at bottom of instructions. For a year, use third recipe. For longer than a year, see example at bottom of instructions. For Drought of Eternal Rest, use fourth recipe.
Harry saw Voldemort was reading the first recipe, a finger running along one of the middle lines. Harry looked at the transparent sky blue potion, but once the next ingredient was added, the color changed to a bright orange, dimming then to a maroon. It turned thick, Harry glad he couldn't smell it since it was a vision, but on the look of Voldemort's face, there either wasn't a smell, or he was ignoring it.
I wonder what he's using the sleeping potion for. He meant it to be used for me, not him. Unless he has his own nightmares and dreams? No, he's the Dark Lord, he doesn't have any nightmares. He is a living nightmare, destroying my life. He makes the Dursley's look like angels, Harry thought with a feeling close to disgust.
The vision faded and left him, another once coming right after, clearer. Harry saw he was in the common room, Voldemort sitting in a corner with a book. Everyone seemed drawn away, hurting and angering Harry. What has he done?! It better berepairable... He knew that was a slim chance though.
Voldemort kept looking around the room, his eyes often landing on Ginny and another girl or two. The portrait door opened, a fourth year coming in whom Harry recognized and gave Voldemort a note before joining his friends. Voldemort read the note, Harry barely recognizing the scrawl across the outside to be Dumbledore's. Oh no, he thought, wishing this wasn't going to happen. He's meeting with Dumbledore. This cannot be good.
He watched Voldemort walk to the professor's office, give the password and calm down. He could sort of feel how Voldemort was feeling, and was unsure whether that was a good or bad thing. Good, maybe, since that only assured he was starting to heal. He watched and listened to Dumbledore's explanations, feeling Voldemort's heart race. He could tell the Dark Lord was having a hard time keeping a straight face.
Before he pulled out the pensieve, he asked, "Harry, are you alright? You look hot—your face is flushed."'
"I-I'm fine sir. Just a little nervous and excited to see the younger Tom."
Dumbledore looked at him for a couple of seconds, Harry wanting to scream and yell, "How can you not realize it's not me? It's Voldemort! Please tell me you're not going to show him..."
Dumbledore did, and showed Voldemort the memory, and could feel the hatred for the orphanage. The Dark Lord could keep a straight face, but not a steady heartbeat. He followed Dumbledore and listened to the tales the head matron Mrs. Cole told about Tom, and lead Dumbledore to the eleven year old. Harry noticed the boy looked just like his father, something that Merope had wished for.
To Harry, the young Voldemort acted like a stubborn brat who was used to getting what he wanted, and a bully. He used his power to frighten the younger kids and have animals do whatever he wanted, and could cause things to move. He already knew he could talk to snakes, and was happy to know he was a wizard instead of some sort of freak.
Harry didn't like his attitude, but continued watching, knowing his time was running short. Soon, the pain was going to kick in, and he wasn't going to be able to stand it, unlike every other time. He saw though, Dumbledore explain how to get to Diagon Alley, and when to board the train to Hogwarts. When he saw Dumbledore pull the real Voldemort out of the memory, the pain started in Harry's arms and legs, slowly crawling around his body like a parasite.
"His powers, as you heard, were surprisingly well-developed for such a young wizard..."
No, focus. Focus Harry. Don't let the vision slide away. He listened more than watched Dumbledore explain his thoughts and reasoning's to Voldemort, who sat stone still, hands clenched, heart pounding furiously... Harry started to fade out as Dumbledore finished the meeting, Voldemort letting himself shake visibly when he was out of the office.
His anger soared, Harry noticing the Dark Lord was nervous as well, to a large degree. "He knows to much. Way, way to much," he said as he passed the stone gargoyle. "He has to be disposed of. Or his memory at least. I need to find a way to get rid of him without being obvious. But...no. No. He can't know so much!"
Voldemort is pissed! Harry thought, close to smiling even though his body was starting to go into small convulsions. It was a lot better though than what normally happened to him. But, there was a good chance that this was only the beginning of the pain.
Unable to believe it, a vision came to him, Harry guessing it showing the current present of something that happened a few minutes ago. He saw Voldemort lifting up a glass with a thick, almost pasty blue/green liquid and drank it. Voldemort shuddered, a quick shiver running through Harry as well.
So, that has to be the sleeping potion, Harry managed to think, soon letting out what he compared to a yell. His body twisted painfully, and he was beginning to have a harder time breathing. Every time he takes that potion, I'm pretty sure it affects me and sends me into this...pain. He 'yelled' again, just a noise of breath as his muscles tightened, the blood pulsing through him, sending his heart racing. But, he was healing. Through this torture, he was healing. Only, he didn't know how much more he could stand. A person could only deal with so much.
He could feel unconsciousness coming, shoving his thoughts out of the way. It was a sweet relief like every other time, and he was also relieved how his body didn't really seem to be trying to kill him, unlike the first time where his body couldn't deal with the overflow of unusable blood. How he survived that, he didn't know, and almost didn't care as long as he was still alive and it didn't happen again.
Once more the blackness pushed itself over his mind, his heart beginning to slow down, his body continuing to heal. It felt nice, for once—through the pain—knowing that he was healing and didn't seem to be dying. There was a chance he was going to get out of this okay, he hoped...
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okay, i will admit, that chapter isn't as good, but it get's better, i promise!!!!!!!!!!!!! just deal with this and i think the next chapter or two, and it'll start getting longer and awesome i think...hehehehe. i get violent later on too...hehehehehe. so yeah...i know how many of u are reading...so reviews, please? please??? and i'm sorry if i like, never reply to u or anything...i'm just lazy, and it's hard not to give anything away...so that's why i refrain from answering...but i do read them, and they make me happy!!!! hehe...so yeah...anyone else enjoy the seventh harry potter book??? i'm sad the series is over...tear...lol. well, until next time!!!
oh, and why the dumbledore vision isn't as descriptive as the last one, is...umm...idk. i dont know if i was to lazy to write it out, or idk...that might be it. and dumbledore is suspicious; he just doesn't want to let on what he is thinking...and besides, this was a safe vision to show. so yeah...there's my thoughts behind that...hehe. so yeah, until next time!!!!