Disclaimer: Jks World, i'm just living here
A/n:-holy cow!- Oo 8000 words! and i've actually reached chapter 20! longest chapter yet- Also, this chapter isn't fully edited yet-my wonderful Editrix is still feeling unwell so this will do for the time being. i hope ya all still enjoy!
The Missing Boy
Chapter Twenty
A week had passed since the Owl Fiasco, and Harry was still as determined as ever to get out of the castle. Every day he looked out the window his resolve grew. And every time he saw Ron on the pitch-soaring round and round (a habit he'd been doing more and more often) Harry knew he had to fly soon, or he'd go insane.
It was almost a physical ache. He HAD to go outside.
The only difference was he was now desperate enough to resort to escape plans.
Harry was sure that if Hermione or Neville could see inside his head they'd disapprove. He'd think about normal things, he could laugh and talk and do everything that they expected of him. But somehow his thoughts always came back to his new grip on wandless magic and what he could do with it. Or more precisely, the pain he planned to inflict with it.
He'd woken up with a grin on his face after he dreamed of torturing Lucius Malfoy. The mans agonized screams where still ringing in his ears as he lay there…beaming. The fact half disturbed him, but he couldn't stop. He wanted to make the senior Malfoy pay. It was he who carried out the majority of the atrocities that had befallen Harry. It was he who smirked as he asked the same questions again and again.
What is the prophecy?
Where is the order of the phoenix?
When do you plan to give in?
…
Harry had spent the rest of his sleepless night coming up with his own questions to ask. The next morning Hermione had inquired why he was in such a good mood…
No, he didn't plan to talk about his 'mental health' with anyone soon. 'Cause Harry was pretty sure he was going crazy…but if it gave him another incentive to get revenge? Well, he wasn't going to complain.
Though he wasn't sure what was going to happen to Malfoy junior if he saw him any time soon… had the resemblance between the two changed since he'd been gone?
Well, at least he was looking much better physically, the Fraygen was going it job well. He was no longer the skeletal looking boy Hermione had nightmares about. He had gained the much needed weight, just a few more pounds and he'd look perfectly healthy.
The scars on the other hand…well, Harry just had to get used to those.
Madam Pomfrey had been coming to the room each afternoon to apply spells and creams to the abused skin, but nothing seemed to be working- they where just as angry and red as when they had first tried to heal.
He'd grimaced when he'd finally stopped kidding himself. He'd look like a mini Mad Eye without the eye.
Harry sniggered; here he was, thinking he was probably going insane, while casually coming to terms with the fact that he'd be scared physically for life.
Harry slumped to his side on the couch, laughing hysterically as Hermione gave him a bemused smile.
Overall though, Harry was still quite pleased. He could always use glamours right?
He ignored his broken hands completely-so they couldn't bother him either.
-oOo-
Neville was so relieved.
He'd cried that first night, not that he'd ever tell anyone. After he'd helped Harry open his mail and returned his cloak, he'd gone back to his dorm completely numb, and sobbed himself to sleep.
Merlin-Harry was back! He was alive! Neville hadn't KILLED HIM!
There were no words to describe just how grateful he was of that fact, that he hadn't killed his best - perhaps only friend. Harry had been laughing and talking, he'd been blushing around Hermione, nervous hands wringing at his shirt every time she smiled, he wined about not being allowed to play Quiddich, he'd said how he missed classes and his other friends. He'd almost been back to normal but for those few moments his eyes had gone dull…but…
Harry was back…he hadn't killed him…even if it had been his fault-he hadn't killed him!
Neville had cried.
But the scars.
They were all over his face-he didn't want to know about the rest of his friends' body- just his face and arms had been enough to make him want to cringe away. He was amazed he'd been able to stop himself from stepping back from Harry in shock-that he'd been able to hug him without flinching. He was lucky really, that his gratitude of Harry being alive had out weighed his horror.
But Merlin…every time he closed his eyes he saw them.
Red and raw, riddled all over Harry's face. Running through his eyebrow and marring his cheeks. One huge gash had run so close to his right eye that the skin puckered and pulled whenever he blinked. A tiny chunk had been taken from his nose-another mottled scar had run across the bridge of it-a horizontal slash that had run under his eyes as well. The back of his arms where crisscrossed, even his neck was covered …
When Neville had seen his hands, he'd had to blink twice before he found unblemished skin under the hundreds of tiny scrapes and raised marks.
All throughout their conversations, he couldn't help but notice how Harry's hands shook. How he couldn't pick anything too small up, how his hands where completely broken, shaking, obviously numb…
He didn't know how Hermione did it. How she could look at him without feeling pity, without wanting to treat him differently…she was a better person then he was.
Not that this would keep him away now that he knew where Harry was. Oh no, he planned to help Hermione teach Harry Herbology and a few of Dumbeldores lessons-even if it killed him!
But this time…he'd brace himself first…
-oOo-
Remus opened his eyes slowly; groaning at his throbbing head. He lifted a heavy limb to his brow and massaged his temple timidly. Everything ached, his old muscles felt like they had been forced to swim the English Channel. He tried to sit up and stopped rather quickly.
The English Channel was nothing to this-Merlin-he felt like the Hogwarts Express had hit him…then reversed back over him a few more times to be sure.
"Moony?!"
Remus looked over towards the voice-seeing a ragged looking Sirius Black at his bedside. The man had heavy bags under his eyes; he looked dead on his feet.
Remus told him as such.
The same old barking laugh made him smile-even if it hurt his cheeks.
"Well if I'm dead you've been mummified for a few thousand years" Sirius remarked, relief pooling in his dull grey eyes.
Remus arched a brow mockingly
"Only a thousand? Well then, I'm doing fine. Cause I feel like shit…thousand year old shit-Merlin my head aches" he closed his eyes and rubbed at them-giving his friend a chance to wipe the incriminating moisture from his eyes.
It must have been so close, he realized, for good 'ol jolly Padfoot to react like this.
Moony vaguely remembered swimming in and out of consciousness. At one point he was coherent enough to hear Madam Pomfrey frantically discussing silver poisoning with someone…the headmaster perhaps? Remus was sure that he saw the old man at one point…
"Here" Remus reopened his eyes to see a potion being pushed at him, he went to sit up but before he could try hands appeared and helped him. The flask was pushed back under his nose a moment later.
"Drink-Madam Pomfrey made me promise I'd force it down your throat as soon as you woke up"
Sirius didn't wait for his answer, as soon as Remus opened his mouth glass was at his lips and hot Pepper Up potion was scolding his throat.
He spluttered indignantly, scowling.
"You didn't have to be so literal!" he choked out.
Sirius mumbled apologizes, sitting back down on his stool and passing the now empty flask nervously from hand to hand.
Now Moony was worried.
"How bad was it" Remus found himself asking, and Sirius stiffened- squeezing the flask tightly between his hands.
"Bad." He said- voice far too small.
"Sirius…" Remus asked tentatively, "what happened?"
He cringed, shrinking on his stool, his knuckles growing white.
"You died"
Moony almost missed the tiny words, but paled as they finally sunk in.
"D-died?"
"Pomfrey only just got you back…the silver…it was in your lungs. You stopped breathing and she couldn't-you didn't-couldn't-you just stopped! I couldn't do anything. You just stopped you bastard-but she did something…I missed it…I was a…eh…a 'tad' ….distraught- but then you breathed again- but the silver was still there and-you hadn't breathed in so long-cell damage-but she said you where alright! Just a shortness of breath from now on-a limp-perhaps a slur…Merlin moony! You stopped! How could you have stopped! You're stronger then that!"
Sirius's shoulders were shaking, his head bowed over the flask as he wrung it between his hands fiercely.
Remus didn't know what to say. He'd died?...
"I'm…sorry?"
Sirius head snapped back up-his eyes suspiciously red- and snarled
"YOU'RE NOT MEANT TO SAY THAT! IT WAS MY FAULT! - IN DUMBLEDORES OFFICE- I BLEW THEM UP AND YOU INHALED THEM! IT WAS MY FAULT MOONY! PLEASE-please! Merlin- please forgive me Moony! I didn't know-I didn't think I –I-I-I can't loose you too!"
His voice all but broke as he finished, reaching out and clasping Remus's shoulder tightly-as if reassuring himself that he was still there. But Sirius didn't look up to confirm it, he just clenched his fist in the soft material of his robes.
"J-james and Lily's death were my –f-fault. I a-almost lost Harry- and I about–k-killed you too" Padfoots breathing was erratic and hitching-but his eyes were dry.
Merlin, he still blames himself-he couldn't have known about the rat… and in Dumbeldores office? I could have stopped him, and I didn't think about it either, I never really noticed all those silver instruments…I mean, I noticed them, but it didn't click that they where made of silver. He's always beating himself up, just looking for a reason to hate himself….
Remus reached up and clasped Sirius hand, squeezing it as he offered a small smile.
"I won't forgive you"
Sirius looked up, a pained expression on his face as he all but waited for the full blame. Remus shook his head,
"You haven't done anything I need to forgive you for you Prat, and there's nothing you need to apologize about…well, except in sixth year when you ran away after painting the hallway orange, leaving me to deal with McGonagall. Or when you used my ancient runes book for a door stop, or when you stole all my ties and my prefect badge, or sent all those love letters to all the girls in Sytherin in my name. Or when you sent love letters to all the boysin Sytherin in my name. Or that time in seventh where you left me in the common room in my boxers after we all got drunk. Or…well, let's just say you owe me a few detentions eh? Nothing more."
Sirius gave a watery grin, clutching at Remus's shoulder again.
"That Sytherin prank was gold-the looks my dear cousins gave you"
Remus rolled his eyes.
"You can start repenting by getting me some tea"
-oOo-
Hermione sat at the table the There and Gone room had provided her. Books where piled around her in tall teetering stacks, scrolls where half unrolled under her arms-getting creased as she wrote frantically on one and then switched to another. She'd already knocked over two inkwells, and Harry had stuck her remaining one to the table to prevent it happening again.
She was a tad flustered.
She had four two foot long papers due. History, Transfiguration, Potions and Charms. She'd kept putting them off- each time she thought she'd put her book down and start she'd realized something and jump at the new idea. Hermione's research was progressing- just a few more days and the right books and she was sure that she could help Harry. She knew she could fix it… If not remove it completely…If she could do this…well, it would make things eventually much easier.
Another calling was bound to happen. It was just a matter of time. All Hermione could do was hope she could change it before they were summoned again…Harry was in so much pain…
She groaned and let her head thump down against the table. She was getting sidetracked again!
She knew that the professors would understand if she was late-though maybe not Snape- they might even give her an extension-but she didn't want one! She wanted to finish the papers on time LIKE SHE ALWAYS DID!
Merlin! She wanted to blast something!
A soft 'pop' signaled the arrival of a target mannequin in the corner of the room.
Hermione scowled. It didn't help that Harry kept chuckling from his couch for no reason. Nothing was going right!-well, apart from Harry's recuperation.
He looked so much better it made her breathe easy. She was no longer terrified that he'd just drop after walking around for a while or after not taking his fraygen. He'd even eaten some toast the other day… ('real food' he'd groaned blissfully before he ran to the bathroom to throw it back up)
An insistent tapping at the window made her start. Looking up- flyaway hair even more so than normal-Hermione saw two owls hovering at the window.
Harry looked up and glared, rolling his eyes before looking back up at the ceiling.
One owl had come with another Order of Merlin-the third this week- the other…
Hermione grinned and jumped to her feet.
"Hermione! Don't let it in! I don't want another one!" Harry moaned, but she ignored him, unlatching the window and throwing it wide.
Groaning Harry snatched the red ribboned letter from the proud owl as it hooted at him. But with a scowl he battered it away while it gave him an indignant screech. It fluttered about, looked at its unattended delivery in his hand, so he threw the scroll into the corner with the dueling dummy, muttering huffily under his breathe. The owl let its wings scuff his head as it turned to leave-leaving a present on his shoulder.
Hermione ignored Harry's yells and cussing as she took the box from the smaller owl and counted out nine gallons and two knuts, placing them in the rather large bag attached to the petite owls leg.
Finally, Hermione turned to the livid boy and rolled her eyes, flicking her wand and vanishing the mess on his robes.
Before Harry could put in a word Hermione pushed the box forward-beaming.
"They came!"
Harry frowned, distracted by her enthusiasm. She watched as he shot another look at the owls shrinking form; chuckling silently as she realized that the look promised plucking.
"What came?" he asked grudgingly, tearing his eyes (and likely his thoughts) away from the bird.
Hermione sighed and signaled for him to open it as she sat on the couch. The look in her eyes held no other choice. Harry did as he was told and sat beside her.
Inside the box was a pair of dark gloves.
Hermione could tell by his expression he didn't know what they where made of. They were too soft to be dragon hide after all.
His frown deepened in confusion and he looked back up. Hermione took the gloves from the box and laid them on her lap before digging back through the package. She straightened a moment later, brandishing a piece of parchment that had been hidden beneath the mid forearm length garments.
"Here, read" she instructed, still beaming. She watched as Harry, still frowning slightly, took the slip of parchment and began to read.
She sat back with a grin, it had been hard to find the perfect gloves for Harry-in fact it had taken two days of research before she found a wizard who could make what she wanted.
The gloves where made of Niffler Skin and spelled to fit whoever put them on. Subtle but tough, the hide was even naturally resistant to small scale spells due to the magical creature it was once part of. But it was the wizard that made the gloves that made them special.
Giorgi Armanio was an Italian wizard who managed an enchanted fashion line, and ran a Muggle one on the side. He specialized in everyday spells, like scuff resistant shoes and non creasing dress robes, but with a few well placed inquires (surprisingly enough it was Charlie Weasely who finally pointed her in the right direction) Hermione found that the man had another business. One a little more high class.
Those everyday charms were childs play to a man who made invisibility cloaks, silent shoes, and fire proof hats.
And with a single letter, a mention of Harrys name and a description of what she wanted-she had Giorgi Armanio writing back and offering a half price deal.
The gloves where charmed magnificently. She could feel the magic pulsing on her lap through her skirt-even the slight metallic smell of magic rose from them. I hope they work…
Her idea had been simple enough-if Harrys hands couldn't grip anything, make the gloves do it instead.
But as Giorgi had explained in one of his letters, the actual spell work to achieve this would have to be quite intricate. The gloves would have to react to the wearers intentions, they would need to be partially animated and have no effects on the already damaged hands.
That had been one of the biggest difficulties to overcome-Armanio had written-he had a number of spells which could animate clothing- his Dancing Dress robes for example. But most of the spells were placed on clothing which was not on direct contact with skin-like a cloak. Some of his spells would heat up the cloth or animal hide to such a point it would burn-another would, in all likely hood, fuse to organic matter and never come off…
And then Hermione had received another letter-the black eagle owl who delivered it crooning proudly as it drank from her goblet of pumpkin juice.
'I've found a Charm that will work!-' were the opening words-scrawled in massive jittery letters. Armanio's excitement had bled onto his page with the ink splotches and messy script. '-It draws from the wearers magical core to enact the spell' he went on to explain 'because of this; its connected directly with the wearer-through that I can establish a link to the subconscious and allow the gloves to react to thought! Because the spell that animates the hide is drawing its energy from the wearer there's no side effects-because it's an extension of the wearer! Not a foreign charm-'the Weaving Wizard had gone on and on-and Hermiones' grin had grown wider and wider.
And now here they were! Hermione fingered the soft hide lightly-hearing it crackle at her touch. She looked up to see Harry's eyes grow larger, she knew the parchment explained what the gloves could and would do- and finally his flickering eyes stopped their rapid movement and he looked up.
Before she could say a word Harry had launched himself across the small gap between them and engulfed her in a rib breaking hug.
-oOo-
Harry buried his face in Hermione's shoulder- her scent thick in his nose-her hair everywhere about his face-but all he could do was hold her tighter.
Merlin she was brilliant! She was fantastic in everyway and form-thinking up something like this! Merlin, Merlin, Merlin-he'd be able to hold a quill again! He could help her up if he needed too-he'd be able to go flying and actually control the broom! He buried his face deeper- memorizing the strange smell of lemon myrtle shampoo mixed with old books. The coarse texture of her hair against his cheek was heaven. Everything tactile was heaven-from the warmth of a body in his arms to the feel of her woollen vest against the crooks of his elbows. He felt tentative hands reach up and grip his back and realized that he was shaking.
"Thank you" he mumbled into her brown locks. Hermione's hands began to rub absent circles across his back- and he tensed as her fingers brushed over lumpy scars. But Hermione didn't pause-she didn't recoil in disgust as he was sure some people would when they saw him.
"You're welcome Harry- I'm just glad I can help" her soft words, uttered so delicately into his ear sent a shiver down his spine-one he hoped she didn't notice.
Slowly, reluctantly, he drew back-knowing he'd have to explain himself if he held onto her for much longer.
She held out the gloves and he reached forward. But before he could touch them she grasped his wrist gently with her free hand.
Harry frowned in confusion
"Wha-"
"I'll have to help you put them on you Harry" she explained and Harry felt very dumb. Of course she'll have to put them on me. Yes I'll be able to use my hands…but they'll still be broken.
With a warm grip Hermione tugged the gloves into place.
Harry felt the change imminently. His hands tingled-he could feel the hairs on the backs of them standing on end if not the leather against his palms. The fizz of the spells on the gloves filled the air and he felt the air around his arms grow warm. Slowly, dimly he felt something moving through his veins-across his skin-through his muscles…it was his magic, he realized -feeding the spells on the gloves. And then the strange sensation stopped-leaving behind only a dim sense of movement under his skin as his magic continued to flow.
He looked up at Hermione and found her looking at him with the same expression of apprehension he was sure he was wearing.
Will they work?
"Do they work?"
Harry closed his eyes and reached out for Hermione's hand.
She gasped and Harry screwed up his eyes more tightly. Preparing himself for the disappointment of seeing his still unresponsive hands, expecting to see them sitting limply atop hers.
He gathered his courage.
Finally opened his eyes Harry saw his hand was linked firmly with Hermione's own.
-oOo-
The next hour passed in a flurry of movement as Harry raced around the room and picked everything up and put it back down. Grinning like a child with a new toy broom he twirled Hermione's quill between his fingers, laughing he flipped through the pages of one of her books. Dancing about he tossed an inkwell from hand to hand.
Hermione sat back and watched it all, her head dizzy, eyes clouded, Harry's embrace still at the forefront of her mind. Merlin-his hair had smelt so good. She'd been too shocked to notice at the time. And his arms had been so strong around her-just like in the hospital wing when she'd broken down. Even if his hands had been limp at her back-it hadn't mattered.
She'd felt so safe, so warm, so comfortable surrounded by those arms.
Hermione shrieked as firm hands gripped her waist and lifted her up into the air-she looked down at Harry who was grinning. She laughed at the shear joy shining through those eyes that had been so lifeless of late and felt hollow when he put her back down.
Harry skipped off- taking off his rectangular glasses and polishing them- then picking up her quill again.
Suddenly he froze-the quill falling from his hand before he slowly turned around.
"Your wand"
Hermione frowned. Harry's face was pale, his eyes wide in his face. She could almost see the thoughts whirling behind them.
"Wha-"
"Hermione, give me your wand" Harry's voice was completely toneless, he just held out his right hand and Hermione saw it was shaking even more then usual.
Her own brown eyes widened as she realized what he was thinking. She felt her heart thunder in her chest at the look in his green eyes-knowing their sudden blankness was just a mask for his growing excitement.
And I have to crush it. Feeling like she might cry, Hermione shook her head.
"I'm sorry Harry. But it won't work"
Harry didn't move. His eyes bore into hers and her voice began to quiver as she explained.
"The-the spells on the gloves create artificial movement, Harry. If you hold a wand it won't react, because it will only sense the spells that are allowing you to hold it-it won't be able to sense you …even though its your magical core that is fuelling the spells, the wand will still only detect the charms themselves…I'm sorry"
Harry's awaiting hand dropped to his side and he shrugged, shooting her a lopsided grin that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Worth a try eh?"
-oOo-
As Remus lay in bed Sirius told story after story of the summers he had spent with James after being disowned fifth year. Naturally, Moony already knew half of these tales; neither James nor Sirius could help but boast loudly after school resumed each year. He and Peter didn't have a choice but to listen- by the end of the annual train ride they always knew about every prank and new spell the two of them had worked out and pulled off.
But the bedridden werewolf still laughed at every punch line, and 'oohed' and 'aahhed' at all the right moments. Yes, he may have already known about all of the escapades of Messers Padfoot and Prongs, but they where being told by Sirius in an effort to cheer him up…
It was sweet really, how hard he was trying to make him laugh-how hard he was trying to make him forget about his short attempt of walking earlier…
Yet despite his friends worthy efforts … Remus couldn't help but brood.
He'd need a cane from now on. His left leg just couldn't hold his weight… 'might have a limp' Sirius has said earlier…a limp Remus could handle. He'd dealt with far worse after bad transformations. But his left leg was hopelessly useless. He'd be better off getting a wooden claw like Mad Eye for all the movement it held. Yes, a wooden leg would have more movement than his own in its current state.
For a brief moment he entertained himself with the idea of using Lucius Malfoys snake cane-striding about like a pimp…
His silent mirth faded quickly. He needed a cane. Now, Moony wasn't vain, but he was proud.
He'd been a werewolf all his life-he'd been an outcast- a pauper- a 'beast' not worthy of being considered human despite the fact he was human every day a month but one. He'd endured all that; he'd endured facing a world alone after that one fateful Halloween where his nice existence had been shattered.
He'd coped with burying his three closest friends, he'd dealt with the reality he'd never see his little Nephew again. He'd come to grips to the fact that his final friend would spend eternity behind bars because he was a traitor; responsible for the others deaths.
He'd handled having his familiar, if not comfortable world tipped on its head by a single name on a map he'd thought lost, he'd handled the fact that all those years ago he was the one thought to be the traitor…
All that time, all those years of hardship-he'd been able to face with straight shoulders and his head held high.
And now he needed a cane. Another physical reminder of his curse to go with the three old, fading scars running cross his face…
People would think him weak.
"Moony? Are you even listening to me?! How could you not find charmed pieces of furniture in the Potter household interesting!? Everything was stuck to the ceiling!" Sirius demanded-snapping Remus' straying thoughts back to the present.
Remus looked up guiltily and Sirius rolled his eyes.
"If I was boring you, you could have said so" he said, leaning back in his chair and looked around the room. He grinned at Madam Pomfrey as she strode past; but as soon as she saw the man she paled, setting her eyes firmly away from the convict despite his good intentions. Wait-Sirius? Good intentions? The silver must had gone to my head as well! True the situation had been explained to her, she knew Sirius was innocent, but still the matron could not relax around the grey eyed man she had seen staring out of wanted posters.
The Ravenclaw that had apparently seen him and Sirius the day of the silver incident had also been informed of the circumstances if he remembered correctly. A Miss Helena in second grade; a typical studious girl suited perfectly to her house, she was nice enough- if curious to a fault. If ever there was someone who the saying 'Curiosity killed the cat' referred too, it was her. The girl had agreed to an unbreakable vow with Dumbledore though. Apparently she was very proud to be trusted with this information.
Then again, information was information, and to a Ravenclaw…well, she was thrilled.
Remus sighed quietly and looked back down at his leg. Maybe he'd be able to commiserate with Harry now about useless limbs.
-oOo-
Hermione was back at her desk, hand cramping from her frenzied writing, back stiff from her constant hunch. But she was done-all essays complete, each one with two inches more then required to make up for her absence. She fought back a yawn as he stretched- and looking through watering eyes she saw Harry who was still jumping about the room and picking things up. She chuckled as she cleared up the desk she'd made such a mess of and neatened her stack of papers to hand in.
"All done, have you had your Fraygen Harry?"
Receiving no answer, Hermione looked back up and watched Harry's still bouncing form.
"Harry?"
Nothing, he just skipped over to the globe and spun it before moving on to poke at the dueling mannequin.
Hermione chewed at her lip.
"Are you angry at me? I know I've been ignoring you but I had to finish this, or is this about the wand?" she asked him, but still he did not respond; he didn't even pause in his repeated exploration of the room.
Hermione frowned and crossed her arms.
"This is childish Harry, the least you can do is answer me!" she huffed. Still nothing- he just jumped back to the globe and spun it again.
"Harry James Potter" she warned, moving forward angrily, but Harry just move back to the mannequin and prodded at it. Again, and again, and again, and again.
"Harry?"
And again, and again, and again, and again.
"Harry?!"
And again. And again. And again.
Hermione strode forward and grabbed at his shoulder to spin him around but shrieked.
Her hand went straight through him.
Realization dawned and Hermione cursed herself for not noticing Harry had been repeating the exact same actions over and over. She felt her face boil as her temper seethed. Hermione Jane Granger had NOT just been fooled by an illusion for the past hour!
The illusion flickered before her eyes and finally dulled-becoming a ghost of its original self as the spells maintaining it began to wan.
Hermione's still lagging mind finally caught up with the situation. Her brown eyes widened as her face paled. Hands shaking Hermione looked frantically about the room.
If Harry wasn't here…where was he?
-oOo-
Harry stood at the edge of the Quiddich pitch and felt the brisk wind tug at his cloak. He closed his eyes and lifted his chin-letting the playful breeze tease at his hair as well.
Merlin's beard-the wind felt amazing. So soft and gentle-tickling and playing like a mischievous child-pulling at his scarf. Picking up and tossing leaves, he knew that if the wind had a voice it would be chortling joyfully.
He grinned up at the sky, at the springy green grass, at the slushy ground worn down to mud by a constant stream of feet. Even the puddle by his shoe that had splattered across the hem of his robe received a smile.
Outside was fantastic.
And the smells! Trees, cut grass, earth, the pong of stagnate water from the shallows around the lake, Hogwarts itself even smelt like stone- stable and gritty. Harry could even smell the magic itself, sharp and metallic-the tiniest whiffs coated everything.
But one thing was better then all of that. And it was the weight in his gloved hand.
Harry clenched his fist around his Firebolt and heard a small crackle of static in response to the movement. He grinned; he felt his cheeks hurt from the force of it, but couldn't care less. He was going to go flying.
Swallowing down a mad cackle Harry leapt forward-his muscles springing and propelling him faster-his arms swinging back and forth to counteract each long stride-his hair flopped about his face and the sodden ends of his robes slapped about his ankles. He could feel the broomstick vibrating against his glove as it was dragged through the air-eager to fly. Without breaking step he jumped-creating a spray of ripped up grass and mud- and slung a leg about the Firebolt.
In an instant Harry was airborne.
Wind roared about his ears-blood thrummed through his veins-his heart pounded in his chest as he soared. Fabric flapped, gravity was forgotten, and the smell of broom polish was added to the potent concoction of this new tactile world. Harry couldn't keep his voice silent-he let the bubbling sound erupt from his mouth as he laughed, and laughed, and laughed and cried.
Great heaving sobs that began wracked his frame, his throat was burning, his vision was blurred, his eyes stung with tears, and nothing had ever been better.
-oOo-
Hermione ran through the halls, the rushing blood in her ears keeping time with her hammering feet.
Oh Merlin Harry where are you?! She thought frantically as her eyes scanned every dark corner she passed.
He could be anywhere in the castle-hidden passageways, towers, dungeons-all of them had more and more hiding spots he could be taking advantage of. And that was if he was hiding.
Hermione blinked tears from her eyes and pushed herself faster. What if he hadn't gone on his own will?! His connection with Voldemort must have been amplified with that thing on his chest-why hadn't she considered that possibility earlier?- and I was just sitting there-doing HOMEWORK instead of researching a way to change the connection. He could be anywhere-trapped in his own head as Voldemort walks him off the top of the astronomy tower!
Tears running down her face in earnest Hermione shoved the thoughts into the dark recesses of her mind. No-I am NOT going to think of anything like that! Harry's fine! Just upset but fine. The gloves and wand idea must have pushed him over the edge…
…Over the edge.
For a horrible moment Hermione could see Harry's form plummeting to the earth. NO NO NO! Harry's fine! PERFECTALLYFINE!
Hermione's hands pushed open the doors to the infirmary-and ignoring the answering 'Booms' as the doors bounced back against the wall, she kept running. The girl went straight to the single bed at the end of the room where the curtains were drawn tight. A moment before she threw the curtains wide she heard the soft 'pop' of a Animagus transformation.
Professor Lupin looked up at her tear smudged face in alarm as Sirius Black popped back into existence.
He jumped to his feet and grasped Hermione's shoulders-face pale as the crisp sheets surrounding the bed ridden werewolf.
"What's happened to Harry! Where is he!?" Sirius demanded; grey eyes frantic.
Hermione fell forward against the convict and clutched at his shirt desperately. Tentative arms stroked her hair as the question was repeated.
"I don't know" Hermione whimpered, shaking her head as tears soaked his shirt.
-oOo-
Hogwarts halls had never seen such frantic searching since the night when the infamous Sirius Black had broken into Gryffindor tower.
Teachers had cancelled their classes, detentions were postponed, because even the students where helping. Every classroom was looked through, every corridor and window and closet. Every dungeon was scoured, every turret, short cut and desk overturned. Every bed was looked under; every secret passage known to Filch was now common knowledge as he sent students down each one. Messer Padfoot himself searched the rest of them.
But The Missing Boy could not be found.
-oOo-
Sirius Black was going insane. Wand held high he sprinted down hidden passage after hidden passage. He bounded down twisted corners, hit his head on sloping ceilings and waded through mazes of ankle deep water as he searched the labyrinth under the lake. The Marauders had found it in their seventh year, and blocked off its entrance after they caused a… sizable leak. But he was checking it just in case.
But all he found were some surprisingly sized bugs.
Was this what he used to put his parents through!? It almost made him feel guilty!
Where in Merlin is that boy!?
Slowly, unwillingly, Sirius paused and let himself catch his breath. It felt like he'd been dashing about for hours. Glancing at his watch he realized that he had. He rested his forehead against the cool stone as he watched his visible breath cloud about his face. Despite his short rest, his heart was still thumping madly in his chest as his thoughts went haywire.
He had imagined everything that could have gone wrong twice over-from finding Harry's body bashed to death by the Whomping Willow, to finding him under a pile of avalanched books. Images of a dark haired body face down in the lake, of a pale bespectacled face alone and slack in the darkness of some nameless corridor, of cold stiff hands all made him nauseous as his Lumos wavered.
It was moments like these that he was guiltily thankful that Lily and James where not alive. He wouldn't wish this kind of worry on Snape-let alone the boy's parents.
And with the trouble Harry always wound up tangled in? Sirius was sure that James would have had a heart attack long, long ago. Battle Voldemort at eleven? - Palpations for sure. Battle a giant snake? - Chest pains in an instant. Face a hoard of Dementors? –respiratory arrest the moment he answered the fireplace. Entered in the Tri Wizard Cup? - James would be fainting at each event.
And this year?
This year was enough to give any Guardian a heart attack. And why in the world would the Potters think he, notorious womanizing bachelor, leather wearing, motorbike riding Sirius Padfoot Orion Black-would ever be capable of handling a child? Of raising a child?
Their child…
I'm such a bad substitute for them-me a godfather? What were they thinking?
If Sirius ever relaxed again it would be a miracle.
What would James be doing in a moment like this? Sirius found himself chuckling at the thought, before or after the panic attack?-no, James was a bad example, what would Lily be doing?
She'd be thinking rationally of course, going through everything she knew while planning a grounding of a lifetime.
So what did Sirius know? The room didn't show any signs of forced entry or exit. Harry had gone to the effort of creating an illusion to fool Hermione, and Sirius refused to believe that he had been controlled by Voldemort while doing it. So where would a sixteen year old Potter be if he had the choice?
Sirius ran a hand threw his hair before he ran off-transforming into Padfoot mid stride to run faster.
I bet his broomstick is missing if anyone went and looked.
-oOo-
Harry's hysteria was finally wearing off, leaving behind a dull feeling lodged, what seemed permanently, in his throat. He was flying in slow looping circles now, gently spiraling down before making an equally soft climb back up. His breath was still coming in erratic hitches, his eyes were still stinging, and he knew his face would be blotchy and red, but he'd never felt more peaceful.
Closing his eyes, the sun a weak warmth fluttering against his face, he could almost imagine he was in the middle of a game and absolutely nothing had changed.
The crowd was roaring-the sounds of bludgers were careering through the air with a faint whistle, they're tiny animated chattering always a hint to doge a minute too late. The players shouting was just a mere overtone to the sound of their billowing robes.
Each Keepers taunts and the Weasley twins laughter were always present, as was the solid 'thwunk' of a bat colliding with gibbering balls. The continuous swish and thump of the Quaffle being passed. Friends yelling his name, the flapping of house banners, the tiny hum of a snitches wings just out of sight…
Harry, eyes still closed, reach out his gloved hand and wrapped them around his imaginary goal.
"And Potters got the snitch! Gryffendor wins!" Harry whispered, adding the roaring of the crowd to follow the games outcome. He held the tiny 'ball' above his head and pumped his fist, grinning at a crowd only he could see.
They were all chanting his name-all he needed to do was land and they would carry him on their shoulders. The twins would sneak Odgens into the punch and the party in Gryffendore tower would be one of the biggest, and loudest they had ever had.
A slight frown began to ruin his delusions as he realized that the chanting was infact an angry yell.
"HARRY JAMES POTTER!" the small, gruff voice thundered.
"GET DOWN HERE NOW! AND NO DIVING!" the voice continued. Harry hunched his shoulders guilty and peaked down at the pitch far below his swinging feet.
Sirius was looking up at him, and catching his godson's eye he pointed at the boy and then the ground fiercely.
"NO DIVING!" he repeated and Harry rolled his eyes. But with a small grin he angled down, this may be the last chance he got outside after his little 'escape' stunt-and Harry planned to make the most of it.
He looked at his godfather and grinned.
"DON'T YOU DARE!" the man screeched-voice breaking for a moment.
Down-down like a stone he fell-the wind buffeting at his face-gravity sinking its claws into his skin. Air whistled in his ears as his eyes watered and Sirius got bigger. And bigger.
And bigger.
With a side splitting laugh Harry pulled up-the toes of his sneakers skimming the ground and sending up shards of grass. He pulled his broomstick to his chest and corkscrewed tightly-spinning parallel to the ground. The thrill of a dive always made Harry feel like his heart was swelling, but accompanied by the frantic swearing from his godfather. Harry felt warm. Loved, if he dared think it.
Finally slowing; just an inch from the ground Harry let himself fall to the pitch with a soft thud, broom clutched tightly in his hand. He lay there, beaming up at the pale sky-streaked with dull grey clouds-while rain threatened with a soft mist. He could hear Sirius's steady cussing growing louder as he ran the length of the pitch towards him.
Dusk was setting itself daintily in place with chilly winds and moaning gusts. And as he stayed there, wet grass soaking his back, mud squelching beneath his head, nose growing numb, he decided that he'd never seen anything more beautiful.
-oOo-
A/N: MERLIN! 19 pages for chapter 20! I was soooooo close. Yay! not too many angsty things either (kinda) and Harrys getting better (kindacoughcoughcoughmentalhealthcoughcough) and Sirius becomes parental. The world is ENDING! Sirius-being remotely responsible?! /locks self in bunker waiting for the apocalypse/ well, I promise, next chapter the plot actually moves. Hopefully. hope ya all liked!
Mali