Disclaimer: I do not claim ownership of Harry Potter, the character, settings or plots that have been born from the magnificent mind of J.K. Rowling. For those too incompetent to understand words longer than two syllables: I do not own Harry Potter.
This is Parseltongue
Beta: angelhitomie
Just so you know, one of the visions Harry has had will come true at a point in the story. As for which one... well, I guess that you'll just have to wait and see, grins evilly, enjoy the chapter.
He'd been wrong to assume that it could not get worse. Harry realised that now. The feeling that they were trying to send him a message had returned as soon as he had entered this new room.
Did they have a whole series of rooms prepared until the point where he would just be inclined to agree with them?
First there had been the white room. In the short time it had taken for him to be escorted from point A to point B, Weasley senior had explained that the room was supposed to help the healing process along. Harry had commented that while it might hurry the whole thing up, spending too much time in there would make even the most patient person lose their sanity. Then he had moved on to voice his wonder of how long Dumbledore might have spent in there for him to turn out like he had. He had surprised a laugh out of Tonks, though she had quickly pretended that it had only been a cough.
But the symbolic of those rooms removed any humour he had felt effectively. The previous room had been meant to send him the message that he was now among the good guys, after all, white was supposed to be a clean colour, something to strive after to achieve.
Were they not aware of how easy the white shade could be tainted by something else, say red or black?
If Voldemort followed the same kind of belief, he should have his followers hand out cookies in Diagon Alley to convince people to continually support him. That was a rather tempting thought, perhaps he should suggest it the next time he saw Voldemort. Already, he could see it happen. Death Eaters wandering up and down Diagon Alley, Bellatrix holding children at wandpoint and ordering them to grab a cookie from her basket to show their support to the Dark Lord, unless they wanted a taste of her Cruciatus.
The thought made him snort in amusement before he schooled his features back into indifference, unless eventual observers thought that he approved of the room, which could not be any further from the truth.
Not moving from his spot in front of the closed door, Harry's eyes wandered around, taking in the sight of his new setting, unsure if this was just as bad, or worse, than the white room had been.
Whoever had furnished this place had been given free reign, and needed to get their head checked, along with the one whom had decided to bestow them with this task.
He hadn't moved his feet in the past five minutes since he had been let inside, his body tense and ready to run at the first sign of something happening, though he didn't know where he could go in such a matter. The only door in the room was behind him, and he had heard it be locked the moment it closed.
Everything in here was decorated in a mix of red and gold, making Harry want to claw his eyes out, though he knew that it was too late. The memory of the sight was already etched into his mind. The only thing which stood out was the old grandfather watch standing in a corner to his far left, which Harry was glad to see was a normal watch rather than the ones wizards tended to favour. Knowing the time was better than knowing the state of people he probably couldn't care any less about.
The whole room was yelling to him; look at us, we are Gryffindors, the good guys, you want to join us.
The thought was making him feel positively sick.
The walls were painted in a deep red shade, just a few shades short of looking like actual blood. The floor was covered by a worn down carpet, also in red, and the ceiling was made of dark red wood.
Harry closed his eyes and inhaled a deep breath of air, trying to reign in his nausea and not embarrass himself by vomiting. At this point he doubted that anything but stomach acid would come up, but he could do without the nasty taste in his mouth which would be there afterwards.
Letting out a huff of air, Harry opened his eyes.
The room was quite furnished, or perhaps it only seemed so because of the room's small size compared to the things which had been put in there. The furniture seemed to have been put in there in all haste, and the person responsible for it had merely used a spell to ensure that the colours would somewhat match.
A four poster bed was flanked by two chairs, a rocking chair and a simply wooden one, which stood next to the watch. Both of them facing the bed, making it clear to him for what purpose they were put in the room with. Opposite the bed was a bulgy chest of drawers.
Harry snorted, the first he had made since entering the room. Really, he didn't understand why someone had bothered to put that thing in here. It rubbed the fact that he didn't have anything to put in it, the chest of drawers took of floor space and it certainly didn't help him to forget that this was for all purposes a cell, no matter what it looked like.
But his annoyance died quickly as Harry caught sight of the window next to the furniture. Weak light poured into the room from it, in fact now where he was looking, Harry realised that the window seemed to be his only source of light. Unless something was brought in, it meant that he would be shrouded in complete darkness once nightfall came.
Harry went straight for the window. It might provide him with an idea of where he was, which would be useful when it came to plan their escape.
His right hand went to cradle his left wrist as he stepped in front of the window, his eyes went to the sky, seeing the sun's low position, Harry realised that it was either early morning, or late in the afternoon. Instead his gaze went downward, realising that something was wrong the moment he laid his eyes at the people below him.
It did make some kind of twisted sense that the Order of the Phoenix would be hiding among Muggles, being defenders of those people and all that jazz. Green eyes took in the street filled with magic-less people, dressed in a wide range of clothes, from casual clothes to something which could belong to a business meeting. Harry withdrew his eyes as a woman, bigger than Dudley had ever been, waddled over the street, the dress she wore looked like it would rip at every move she made. Even the umbrella she was under couldn't quite conceal her from the drizzling rain.
There were houses; none of those he could see had even the slightest trace of magic to them. No shops and no street signs to tell him where he might be, at least he was sure that he was still somewhere in Great Britain seeing as the cars were driving on the left side of the road. An exchange student had once commented that only few countries did such, and he doubted very much that he was in Australia.
Trying to open the window proved to be a wasted effort, as no matter how much he pushed or pulled, the bloody thing did not bulge out of its place.
In frustration Harry went over to the nearest of the chairs, the wooden chair, which looked considerably lighter than the rocking chair. Harry picked it up, fumbling a little before he found a way to carry it properly with the lack of one hand. His whole left arm protested against the stress he was putting on it, making tears spring to his eyes, though Harry refused to let them fall as he wobbled back towards the window.
Deeming himself close enough, Harry threw the chair at the window, twisting his body to put more force behind the throw.
Harry jumped to the side, barely avoiding getting hit by the chair which had hit the window and bounced straight back at him, passing him with merely a hair's breadth between them.
Stopping mere inches from falling, Harry looked from the unmarked window to the chair lying on its side on the floor and then back at the window.
Honestly, why was it that his enemies were the ones able to stop him from opening the window? It was bloody annoying.
Not that it really mattered, he wouldn't attempt escaping before he could do so with Draco. What he had attempted was stupid, that much did Harry realise now where he was starting to cool down. If he had managed to smash the window, it could have set an alarm off. And then they would have done something to raise the security level, so when the time came to leave, it would be much harder to accomplish.
Eventually he settled down by the window, intend on observing the passing people.
Watching the Muggles was oddly calming, and lacking something better to do, Harry allowed his mind to wander.
The teenage girl, whom was darting through the crowd on a board with wheels on it, was in a hurry to get somewhere. Her parents probably thought she was staying overnight at a classmate's place to study for a test the next day. In reality she was off to see some friends whom her parents really would fear to meet and they would party the night away. Judging by the way she was pushing against people, quite a few of them would find their wallets missing the next time they searched through their pockets.
An elderly man was pushing a filled shopping cart in front of him, with an equally old looking, three legged dog following closely behind him. He was given a wide breadth, either because people believed that he would empty their pockets if they weren't careful, or the old fellow needed a bath as much as he seemed to. Harry guessed that the man would be spending the night in someone's doorway with the dog as his only companion.
Each and every single person down there was unaware of the wonders of magic which happened right under their noses every day.
If not for his visions, he could have been down on that street right now. He had been a mere toddler when James and Lily had abandoned him at the Dursleys' doorstep. Any memories of his life before Privet Drive could easily have been written off as a child's overactive imagination.
Perhaps his aunt would have accepted him, seeing that he would be nothing like her sister and the Magical World. He could have had a normal childhood, or at least not chucked into his cupboard whenever the Muggles didn't want to see him anymore, or have yet another potion forced down his throat when the effects of the previous one had started to take off.
At this time he could have been attending high school, with his whole life planned. A high pay job, loving wife, children, a house with a white picket fence, and all that.
Or, he could have dropped out of school at the first given chance, gotten a job at a dinner and then ending his life because a crack pot decided that he was an easy prey on the way home from work.
Was it a wonder that he preferred his life as it was; despite of how shitty it proved to be at times?
Brought back to awareness by the rattling doorknob, Harry pushed himself to his feet and turned away from the window. Sudden anger welled up inside him, causing his body to shake. Whoever was on the other side of the door, Harry held no intention of greeting the person in a friendly manner. He was well aware that there were few reasons for anyone to come and see to him, and right now he couldn't think of a single pleasant one.
Three strides brought him past the bed and to a spot where he wouldn't be seen immediately upon entrance.
The person stepped inside with their back facing the room as he, the robes, somewhat short hair and the body itself indicated that the person was indeed male, balanced something on the tray which kept his hands mostly occupied.
Harry waited until the door closed, seemingly on its own, as he didn't want to give anyone the idiotic impression that he was attempting to get escape. No, this would warn them that he hadn't changed his way of greeting unwelcome visitors.
Then he acted.
He jumped onto the other's back, his legs wrapping themselves around the waist while he slung his left around the boy's throat and his right hand's fingers closed around his bandaged wrist, strengthening his choking hold.
Vaguely he was aware that something went flying, most likely the tray and its contest, but Harry was a little too busy to check whether he was right or not. The other boy emitted a surprised sound, and Harry's leg muscles tensed in warning as fingers tried to pry his arms away.
Not intending in relenting his hold, Harry kicked and dug his heels further into the wizard's sides, hoping that he managed to do more damage than just a little bruising.
They twisted around and Harry's back met the hard surface of the wall while his head sung from the collision. The pain made him loosen his grip momentary, as the hands on his arms changed their hold and the world's axle seemed to tilt.
He was thrown forward, over the other's shoulder and landed on the floor with enough force to knock the air out of his lungs. Confused he blinked, wondering if it was normal for the world to be spinning like that.
The other boy moved fast, placing himself so his body was covering Harry's own and thus preventing the seer from moving around much.
Tilting his head back to a more normal angle Harry was able to meet the boy's gaze, their faces equally red and sweaty. He forced a smile onto his face. "Hey Neville, how are you doing?"
)00(
Since he had completed his Potions Mastery, the times where he had botched up a potion to this degree had been rare and far between. Yet, there was nothing to call the result in front of him but a complete failure. It had robbed him of precious time, two days to be exact, one of his mementoes of Lily, and he was no step closer to locate the boys.
Wiping his wand over the cauldron to banish the greyish mess, taking the smell of rotting garbage with it, he went back to the tome he had first found the potion in. Perhaps another look at the text would reveal what he had done wrong.
There was a reasonable reason for why the potion had not worked. Done correctly it should have been mouse brown and smelled like the jasmine flower in full bloom. And when poured over a parchment it would then have drawn a map which showed him Harry's location.
It could be because the hairs were old, their owner had been dead for well over a decade, he supposed that the result would be the same if he had used something of James Potter. Unfortunately the house-elves had been allowed into their quarters after the Dark Lord had started courting his boy. The creatures were overjoyed at the prospect of cleaning an area they had previously been banned from, and thus there was no hair, nothing bodily connected to Harry that he could use.
So he had been left with using what he had, which was the hairs of Lily.
Perhaps that was where he had went wrong.
Severus' finger paused on bottom of the page, his brows pushed together in thought.
Having nothing else, he had used what he had of Lily's earthy remains. But, as much as he disliked thinking about it a seed donator had been required in the creation of his boy. By only using something of Lily, he had been attempting to track down someone who was dead a long time ago. It was no wonder that the potion had turned out like that, it was created to track down someone as long as they had a heartbeat and was not hidden under a Fidilius.
If he attempted again without something of James Potter's the result would be the same.
Unless he changed his intended target.
It was rather likely that the boys would be kept together, not only would it make it easier to use one to get the other to cooperate, it lessened the people needed to guard the boys as well. And the rebels were bound to be aware the friendship between the boys. After all, it was wholly acceptable for the Malfoy's heir to be friends with a seer and Voldemort's bonded to boot, rather than a squib.
Surely, Narcissa and Lucius would gladly depart with something of their own, if it meant that their son might be returned to them. With a little luck it would mean that his own child would return to him as well.
)00(
Back when he had been staying with the rebels the first time around, Neville had been the closest thing to what Harry could call a friend. Even after his time with people around his age had been drastically restricted, due to the combination of his own behaviour and his intake of the potion, Neville had continued seeking his company. The time had either been spent in silence, or with Neville rattling about this or that plant with only Harry's questions as an interruption.
It had been refreshing not to be constantly questioned about whatever he had seen in his visions. At those times Harry had almost been able to imagine that he was normal.
Then again, normality was overrated anyway.
He had seen Neville plenty of times in his visions in the first time after his flight. It had brought him some comfort to know that Neville was alive and mostly well. But through the years the amount of visions with Neville had tapped down to the occasionally ones.
Neville levelled himself off of him and sat back on his heels.
Able to move against Harry scrambled to his feet, no doubt that he would be sore come tomorrow, right now his wrist and head were competing about which one of them could be most painful. At the same time Harry felt his body start to become numb to the pain, something he was rather sure could not be considered a good thing.
Like Neville, Harry didn't rise completely, but opted to stay in his crouched position where they were at eye-level. His muscles were tense, ready to pounce again at the first move Neville made. Neville might have been his friend, but right now Harry wasn't sure if it still meant something, despite what he wanted to.
Now where he was calming down, Harry was surprised to realise that not once in their short struggle had Neville drawn his wand. Looking once over him, he couldn't spot the stick anywhere, so most likely he hadn't been allowed to bring the wand inside the room. Honestly, just because Harry had snapped a wand the only time he had managed to get his hands on one, they feared a repeat if he should get another chance.
They were entirely right in their fears.
"Hey." Neville echoed Harry's greeting offering a hand to the seer. After a short moment of hesitate, only to decide that it would do no harm, Harry grabbed the hand and together they rose.
Back on their feet they quickly let go, and despite his happiness over seeing a welcome face, Harry couldn't help but eye Neville warily. It seemed too much of a coincidence that Neville was the one to visit him. Why should he visit, if not to try and convince Harry that the right thing to do would be to cooperate with the Order? And yet that just didn't seem to fit with what he knew about Neville.
This was making his headache worse.
Neville shifted, looking rather uncomfortable with the intensity Harry was regarding him with. The squandering his shoulders, Neville spoke. "I brought some food." Both looked over at the tray which had been dropped, and the mess surrounding it. It looked to have been some kind of stew, though he couldn't tell for sure.
"Thanks, but I'm not really hungry anyway." Harry said, placing his hand on his stomach as it betrayed him by choosing that moment to rumble loudly. Now where he thought about it, it had been long since he had gotten something proper to eat.
Understanding filled Neville's eyes. "I see, it's another round of 'going hungry until they realise that you are not a puppet for them to control'" Surprisingly he was quoting the seer from when Harry had gone hunger strike.
"Yeah, I mean it's not like the food is anything worth writing home about, one never knows what the cook might have slipped into it." It was so easy to talk with Neville, to forget that they belonged to two different sides and that they were technically enemies. The thought left Harry with a bitter taste in his mouth, no matter how much he hated Dumbledore, he couldn't see Neville in the same kind of light.
The twisting of Neville's lips told him that the other was barely holding back a smile. Obviously Neville remembered some of the claims which Harry had come up with in the past. With nothing better to spend his time with when he was not being forced into visions, Harry had been rather creative, if he was allowed to say so himself.
"So." Harry dragged out the word as he leaned back against the wall he had previously been slammed up against. "How does it feel to be declared Dumbledore's man and the one who has to slain the almighty Voldemort?" He watched Neville with keen interest, wanting to know what Neville was thinking.
From the flush flaring to life on Neville face, Harry figured that he had managed to stumble upon a rather sensitive subject.
Go him.
"I'm not supposed to talk about it." Neville informed, looking positively uncomfortable as he flapped down on the rocking chair. Harry nodded absent minded, his eyes wandered around the room as he felt at a loss of what to say. With the spilled food and the turned over chair, Harry supposed that he was well on his way to make the room look a warzone. Perhaps, once Neville had left he would set at ripping the wallpaper to pieces. "Dumbledore has been showing me memories of You-Know-Who's past. The headmaster believes that they key to defeat You-Know-Who lies in there somewhere."
Try as he might, Harry couldn't help the snort of disbelief that escaped him. Part of it was because of Neville; he was supposed to go against Voldemort and yet he couldn't get himself to say the man's chosen name. Considering the people whom Neville had grown up with, it was not quite so surprising. "So, you are telling me that you are expected to go against the Dark Lord, who's over half a century older than you, and all Dumbledore is doing is giving you a few history lessons? Seriously, what do you plan on doing when you have to face him? Sit down and talk about what in his childhood made him decide to become a Dark Lord?" Even to himself, it sounded ridiculous.
When he had found out that Dumbledore expected Neville to step up as the supposed saviour, this wasn't what he had been expecting. Training on how to defeat said Dark Lord sounded more like something which Neville could use.
Never had he imagined something like that. "Has Dumbledore lost his mind?" He mused, no matter how Harry looked at it, there was no sense in this madness.
"You're the first one to say that. Everybody else just assumes that it is a part of a greater plan." Harry couldn't help but scowl at those words, though he was not surprised by hearing them. Those who supported Dumbledore had their heads so far up in his arse, that it was pure luck that the man wasn't mistaken for a hydra.
There probably was a reason to why Dumbledore was showing Voldemort's past to Neville, but try as he might Harry couldn't see it. No matter what Dumbledore was scheming; he must have gotten through a great deal of trouble to get his hands on those memories.
Shifting his weight from one foot to another, Harry's mind went into overdrive. It might be because of something Voldemort had done in the past, maybe some kind of magic the man had dabbled with.
That was not exactly helpful. Bare the lightest kind of magic, Voldemort had had his hands in most of what there was. Nothing was too low or too hard for him to do if Voldemort believed that it would help him achieve something he wanted.
But if Dumbledore believed it was of importance, it lessened the chance of what it was. After all, Voldemort had done plenty, but only far from all of those subjects would have gathered Dumbledore's interest to such degree.
Harry bowed his head, letting his hair fall in front of his face to hide the grin twisting his features as a plan started to take form in his mind. If he played his cards right, Draco would soon be back in safety.
And, perhaps, Neville wouldn't have to face death just yet.
)00(
Placing his hand behind his head, Harry stared up at the dark ceiling, the blackness occasionally broken by lights coming from the window. The first few times this had happened, had sent Harry running to it, wondering what was going on outside. It was first at the third time that this happened that he realised that the light came from the passing cars.
His stomach emitted another long growl, making Harry sigh and roll onto his side. He and Neville had cleaned up the mess from the food, which Harry was rather thankful for. Otherwise he would have been on all fours, licking up the remains from the floor like some savage.
Still, something to eat would be nice.
Shaking his head Harry banished the thought before it could go further. The years at Hogwarts had softened him if a few days without food could make him this desperate. Of course, there also was the blood loss, pain, lack of sleep and fear to take into account.
Harry had a feeling that his breaking point was nearer than he liked to admit.
Knowing that he was getting nowhere like this, Harry got onto his feet, his body rather stiff after lying on the floor. Even with the carpet on it, it was not pleasant to lie on.
But as long as he could, he would rather avoid the bed. Harry knew that he would soon be forced to stay in it, something which he was definitely not looking forward to.
Pausing he ran a hand through his hair, urging himself to calm down. Despite his previous thoughts, he hadn't ripped the wallpaper to pieces. He could do that when he was truly bored. Besides, destroying something wasn't so pleasant to do when he knew that it all could be fixed with a wand.
His feet carried him to the window. The drizzling rain had long since stopped, but even though the clouds were gone, it did not matter as he was unable to see any of the stars. There went a way for him to at least tell which part of the world he was in. Even Neville hadn't been able to help him with that, being under an oath not to reveal their location to anyone whom was not under the influence of said oath.
Grumbling he slid down to sit on the floor and rested his head against the cold window's glass.
When the first of the sun's rays hit the sky, Harry hadn't managed to sleep a wink. His head felt as if stuffed with cotton, making it hard to keep his thoughts focussed. Merlin, he knew he needed his rest, but being in the enemy's camp certainly didn't help to achieve that.
Hearing someone clear their throats made Harry's head snap around, belatedly realising that he had been too distracted to realise that someone had entered the room. Blue robes with mahogany stripes told Harry who his visitor was well before his eyes reached the aged face. "Good morning, my boy, and how are you on this morning?"
Being with Dumbledore was not something he wanted to suffer through this early, or at any other time of the day.
For a moment Harry pondered on when he should put the plan into action.
Grunting in greeting he stood, feeling less imitated now where Dumbledore wasn't hovering over him. He wobbled a little and his legs prickled as blood started to flow again. Maybe sitting in the same position for hours hadn't been a smart thing to do. A quick glance at the grandfather clock told him that it was a little over seven a.m., Dumbledore certainly wanted to get an early start on the day.
"Where is Draco?" He rasped, his voice dry from the lack of liquid, as he leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms. The perfect picture of a defiant youth, if he should say so himself, and what Dumbledore expected from him at this point.
Dumbledore shook his head, though keeping his distance. It confirmed Harry's suspicion that he was being watched, or Neville had been ordered to report what had happened. Currently he couldn't say which one was most likely. "There is no reason to feel concern for the young Mr. Malfoy. I personally assure you that anyone cooperating with us will be treated with the greatest care." Dumbledore promised, transforming the rocking chair into a comfortable looking wingchair before sitting.
Harry closed his eyes, deciding against doing something which he knew would be stupid, no matter how tempting it was to plant his fist in the old man's face. Flashes of his last vision sped past his eyes, reminding him of the danger which Draco was still in. Sucking in a breath, forcing the pictures back as he opened his eyes, quite sure that he wouldn't give in to the temptation of jumping Dumbledore in a surprise attack. Yesterday had proved to him just how bad an idea that could be. "You know, Draco is a brat, but there is one thing I've learned about him, he doesn't play well with those below his status, and when it comes to blood traitors, he refuses to participate in any kind of games." Especially when a Weasley was involved, and the red haired clan as a whole seemed intend to support Dumbledore. "I want Draco with me."
Harry had a feeling that he would have to repeat the sentence many times before Dumbledore got the message. But if it meant that he would get Draco to be with him, he was more than willing to throw a temper tantrum worthy of Dudley.
Dumbledore leaned slightly forward, the blue eyes looking at him through half moon glasses. "Now Harry, why don't you let the subject rest for a little? Young Malfoy might be able to come on a visit once we are done here. Why don't you tell me something about the last vision you have had?" So typical Dumbledore to set this up to be a carrot or stick situation. If he cooperated, then he would get to see Draco, but it also gave Dumbledore something to hold over his head.
Harry preferred not to think of the consequences of not telling Dumbledore anything about what he had seen.
"I can't." He stated, Meeting Dumbledore's gaze head on with a calmness he did not feel. Not for the first time in his life Harry thanked his lucky star that Legilimency did not work on him. Giving in to Dumbledore was not an option if he wanted his plan to work. "You see, Voldemort isn't stupid. He made sure that I won't be able to betray him, and as a consequence there is only a few people I can tell about my visions, and believe me, you were not even taken into consideration for that list. He didn't want the knowledge to end in the wrong hands, if you catch my drift."
For a moment Harry got to witness as Dumbledore's mask fell ad a shiver of cold crawled up his spine at the unexpected sight. Anger, shock and disbelief before the mask slit back in place. "Harry, I am sure that you have been taught that it is wrong to lie. Your time in Slytherin company has clearly affected you more than I had thought it would. You are smart enough to not let yourself be caught like that. But you are safe now, my boy, so there really is no reason for you to keep lying, what do you think you parents would have said?"
"I'm sure that my father would have been damn proud of me." The words were out of his mouth before Harry could even think about it, but it didn't stop the sly smile to form.
Dumbledore shook his head, letting his disappointment fume from him. "I am sure that the stories about you father and his mishaps painted quite a picture of him in your head. But after getting together with your mother and taking an active part in this war, he grew up, I assure you that he would find your actions most disconnecting."
"I was talking about Severus Snape. James and Lily stopped being my parents the moment they decided that your little rebellion was more important than their squib son and abandoned me!" It felt good to be able to talk back instead of covering in front of other people. If he had known that it was like this, he would have started a long time ago. Then again, it was a little hard to think when he hadn't been sure whether he was awake or caught up in yet another dammed vision.
The seer fell silent, satisfied with simply glowering at Dumbledore right now. Just from looking at the man's face he wasn't able to figure out what was going on inside his head, but whatever it was, Harry guessed that he would find out soon enough.
Seeing as Dumbledore wasn't going to speak, Harry felt that he might as well fill out the silence. "You and Voldemort aren't all that different. Both of you thrive on manipulating people to fit into whatever game you're playing. Sacrificing people is done without a blink of the eye if it means furthering your own case. Only difference is that he dresses better than you." He paused with a frown, ignoring the hawk-like way the blue eyes were following his every move. "And I wouldn't shag you." He added, not hiding the grimace the thought of doing anything in that category with the elderly man produced.
Dumbledore heaved a sigh and stood, making Harry's full attention snap back to the man. "Whatever Voldemort has claimed, he is incapable of feeling anything remotely like love." Though he greatly disliked it, Harry felt how Dumbledore's words stuck a cord inside him, making him drop his gaze to the floor, his toes had suddenly become very interesting.
"I am well aware of his faults, believe after spending so much time in his presence, I would be an idiot if I was not." It felt good to be able to speak like this. Perhaps this was why people used mind healers; to get things off of their minds felt wonderful. "He acts like he owns the people around him, and makes decisions over ones head, damn it he gave me a bonding jewellery under the disguise of it being something else and I wouldn't have know it if not because of someone's slip of the tongue!" By the end of his small rant Harry was breathing heavily, tilting his head so that his hair fell like a curtain in front of his face.
Dumbledore looked surprised, but undeniable pleased by Harry's choice of words. The look on his face was like a punch in the gut to Harry, realising that Dumbledore might actually think that there was a chance to convince Harry to work for him. "But he is also fun, takes care of those he considers his, the possessiveness can be a good thing, and at least he doesn't claim that he does it for the greater good when he uses people for his own gain. I want Draco here with me!"
Harry slumped back against the wall with an annoyed huff. Really, speaking about Voldemort only wrought him up. It seemed that too many contradictory words could be used when it came to describing Voldemort, and yet most of them weren't quite right. Even when he wasn't there, Voldemort managed to fill his mind with thoughts about him.
Merlin, he was no better than a school girl with her first crush.
Straightening up Harry found himself freezing at the sight of Dumbledore's wand pointing at his chest, the man's face wiped clean of all emotions. "I am truly sad to see how far Tom has sunk his claws into you. Believe me, it was never my intention to let such a fate befall you. But I am sure that some time spent with people in your own age group will help you to realise that it is not too late to redeem yourself." Harry doubted that Dumbledore was thinking of Draco when speaking of people Harry could spend his time with. "Petrificus Totalus."
His body seized and Harry would have fallen if not for the hovering charm cast on him right afterwards. With a sense of foreboding that had nothing to do with his vision, Harry found himself levitated to the bed and placed on the top of the covers.
Dumbledore entered his range of vision not long after that and the man was now holding a vial containing a familiar brow potion. Had he been able to, Harry would have whined, protested, or done anything rather than lie frozen on the bed. As it was, he was only able to move his eyes as Dumbledore bend down and placed the vial's opening at his mouth, gently parting his lips. "This is not how I had wanted it to happen, but it is necessary that I know what Tom is planning. Once this war is over, I assure you that it will no longer be necessary to drink it."
Tears flowed from his eyes and trailed down his cheek as the potion slowly made its way from the vial, into his mouth and down his throat. His muscles wanted to spasm, to force the potion out of him before it could start working, alas Dumbledore's spell was doing its work with keeping him immobile.
Soon, Dumbledore and the room was gone from his view and Harry found himself sinking down into an all too familiar darkness.
For a vision, he quite liked this one, though it was a little too hot for his liking.
The beach's white sand seemed to go on without an end, and the water had a clear blue colour that told him that he wasn't anywhere near Great Britain, the palms were a rather good hint about this. Plenty of people around him, no different from his last vision, where a shooting had started in the middle of the street he had been on. But unlike the previous one, the people here were wearing the minimum required clothes to deal with the tangible heat.
His attention was drawn to a young girl in a pink swimsuit, and blonde pigtails, not far from where he was, who could not have been older than four, maybe five years if he pushed it. A quick look around told him that the nearest couple were her parents, or paedophiles with the way they were glancing so often at the girl.
Not knowing why he was there, Harry squatted down next to the strange figure the girl was trying to build out of sand.
For a while he simply sat like that, watching as the girl's creation grew, more and more askew. If she continued on like that, her castle looking thing would fall, and then her work would be wasted, though the girl seemed too content with what she was doing to worry about that.
His attention was drawn from the girl and to a small group at the shoreline, which had definitely moved further away. Frowning Harry got on his feet, dusting himself clean though there was no sand clinging to his clothes, after all, he was not a part of this vision, merely an observer.
Curious about what was going on, Harry walked over to the nearest group of people, most of them with a healthy tan they had gained from a lengthy stay under the sun. They were blabbing fast in a language that made as much sense as gobbledegook, alternatively pointing at the wet sand and ocean life revealed to something they apparently could see in the horizon. Though not understanding what was being said, their tone of voice left no doubt that it was not a good thing.
His eyes searched the horizon, trying to figure out what was going on. People had moved further out, children and youngster busy with poking the flapping fish with the greatest delight. This wasn't normal, but if those people were acting so careless about it, was he wrong to worry?
Green eyes narrowed as he spotted something in the far distance. At first it seemed like nothing, in fact he was quite sure that his eyes were deceiving him, it seemed like the most likely explanation.
But no, it was definitely not a trick of the light. Something big was moving towards them with a great speed. Several others had stopped their doing to stare and point at the thing approaching them. Harry wanted to yell at them for not getting on the move, granted he wasn't either, but he doubted that whatever was going on would have an effect on him. The same couldn't be said about the people on the beach.
As if reading his mind people started to move backward, some disappearing from sight while others stopped once reaching the dry sand, looking fascinated at the thing coming towards them with a high speed.
"Tsunami!"
Never had he seen a word be so effective once spoken. They went from onlookers to moving as fast as their legs could carry them. Some were showing people out of their way, determined not to let anyone or anything hinder their flights. Others were grabbing the ones nearest to them, mostly children and elderly people, before they started moving as fast as possible with the added burden.
Harry's eyes went back to the now identified tsunami. It had moved closer in the short time he had allowed himself to take his eyes off of it, already hovering far above the people on the beach. It would hit land in a matter of seconds, and Harry doubted that there would be magic powerful enough to stop this force of nature.
The girl in the pink swimsuit!
Terrified Harry turned around, hoping that the girl's parents had been smart enough to make a retreat. They needed to get far away and high up if they wanted to get away from this thing.
To his horror, Harry saw the girl not far from where he stood. Apparently she had wandered off to touch a jellyfish, and had wandered away from her parents, whom were trying to make their way to her through the mass of people moving the opposite direction.
His legs moved on their own account. He was closer to the crying child and had a better chance of reaching her. What he would do after that, Harry had no idea about, but never before had he wished so fervently that he could Apparate.
Behind him Harry heard a roar from the wall of moving water coming closer. He didn't need to look behind him to know what kind of sight he would be met with.
He reached the child, his right hand out to grab her, if they wanted to get away alive, he couldn't afford to stop and pick her up gently, when his hand passed right through her body as if she was one of the ghosts living in Hogwarts. Chocked Harry brought himself to an abrupt halt, staring at his hand as if seeing it for the first time.
Resolute not to let it hinder him, Harry turned around to grab for the girl a second time. Surely he wasn't meant to stand and watch her meet a certain death.
He wasn't fully turned when the tsunami hit, enveloping them in musky water and separating him from the girl.
Well, I hope that this makes up for the long wait, thanks for all the reviews, they really worked on getting me to work on this chapter despite the fact that school has started.
I consider going to New York City next summer, any suggestion to what is a must see, and what should be avoided?
Next: Weasels, Draco and a spy. Not necessarily in that order.
Until next time.
