Hi everyone! I'm super busy and have been trying to connect pieces and parts of this story together for forever. I'm just kind of stuck. But I managed this and I wanted to share. Thank you for sticking with me. And I promise again I am not finished with this story. :-)
20
The next day, Harry steeled his nerves to climb the spiral steps to the Headmaster's office. He almost wished he had a class so he'd have a legitimate reason to postpone this meeting. But unfortunately, being a sixth-year student meant more self-study and fewer classes to attend. Right now, he'd even take one of Trelawney's Divination classes over sucking up to Dumbledore.
But, it had to be done.
Thank Merlin this was only an act. He was sure he'd never be able to verily set aside his pride and rage to apologize to these people. Harry knocked on the door at the top and gritted his teeth. As the door opened, he let out a quiet breath and stepped forward. Dumbledore sat behind his desk, hands clasped together in front of him, elbows resting on the surface of it. His face was welcoming, but it didn't help Harry in the slightest. Here was the last place he wanted to be.
"Good morning, Professor."
"Good morning, Harry, my boy. What brings you here so early?"
"I wanted to…apologize." Harry thought the reluctance in his voice was alright. Even if he was legitimately sorry, he still wouldn't want to admit it. "I was wrong to accuse you and Ron and Hermione of all that I did. I was frustrated from being left out of everything during the Summer. I felt like no one really cared about me-"
Here, Harry's voice broke. The very legitimate feelings of abandonment from the past Summer welled in his throat, and he let them. It would make his act look even more real. But he hated the heat of tears that welled in his eyes. He absolutely despised it. He ducked his head and clenched his fists. The man in front of him said nothing, giving him a moment to gather himself. Harry was thankful, because he didn't want to hear what the man had to say.
Fawkes, still a small chick, burst into being from a small flame before him. Harry had to catch him quickly, lest he fall to the ground, but the phoenix let out a quiet trill that made Harry think of laughter and nuzzled his palm. Harry raised his hands to his chest, cradling to him the being that had once saved his life. It calmed him.
Harry heard a quiet chuckle from Dumbledore's direction and disgust rose in his throat, pushing back his tears and reminding him of his purpose.
"I felt like I was useless. Like I couldn't do anything. And I felt like everyone had turned against me. When I said that to Ron…he froze. I'm sure he was just hurt. I know he was. I would have been. But I thought…I thought he was just confirming it. That he was saying I was right. I got so angry!"
Everything he said had foundations in the truth. Just…a bit twisted. Tom had told him this was the best way to lie. Always tell the truth, just by another perspective. This method, he said, led Legilimency astray, and even the best could be fooled. Harry ducked his head, studying a particularly interesting crack in the stone beneath his feet. Let Dumbledore think he was ashamed and hiding.
There was quiet in the office for a moment, then Dumbledore shifted. He rose from behind the desk and approached Harry, finally laying a hand on his shoulder. Harry had to fight not to flinch.
"My dear, dear boy." The voice was sweet and syrupy. "I appreciate your apology. And I'm sorry that you felt that way. But you know I'm not the only one you need to apologize to?"
Harry felt like the man thought he was a child, a toddler only just learning about the world.
"I know. I'll apologize to Ron and Hermione tonight when I go back to the dorms." Harry nodded as if he were eager to see his friends again. "I just wanted to talk to you about something first."
"What is it, Harry? You know I'm always open to your company." Dumbledore ushered Harry into one of the big, cushy chairs. Then he went to sit behind the desk again. Fawkes settled into Harry's lap.
"I want to help the Order." Harry said without preamble. He had the satisfaction of seeing Dumbledore's eyes widen a bit and he continued. "I want to contribute to the war. If I'm supposed to kill Voldemort, I want to be ready. Just going to classes isn't enough anymore."
"Harry…"
"I know you think I'm not ready. But what happened at the ministry got me thinking. We need to be offensive. We've only been reacting to them. Having a spy with them is great and all, but what can we do to stop them, or even slow them down?"
Dumbledore was quiet for a while, pensively looking at his hands, again clasped together on his desk. Harry let him think, turning his attention to Fawkes and running a finger along the ridges of his wings. The soft down feathers felt like silk against his hands and the phoenix appeared to be loving the affection. He wondered, as he always did, why such a kind creature would stay with Dumbledore. Maybe it was because he was the headmaster. Maybe Dumbledore had forced him into it. Or…maybe Fawkes was with Dumbledore because he wanted to be. After all, you can't choose who you love.
"Harry. There is so much that I want to share with you. I am glad you want to help with the war efforts. But I need to know that you are truly ready for what comes next. Mind and body."
"I am!" Harry exclaimed, before Dumbledore could voice the 'but' that he knew was coming. He needed to be involved. Needed to know what Dumbledore was up to. He needed to be useful to the war effort, just as he had told the man. The only difference was which side of the war effort they were speaking about.
"I know you think you are Harry." Dumbledore said placatingly. Harry had to hold back a scowl. Damned old man. "But I need to make sure of that before I drag you into something you're not ready for. I promise I will think about it, my boy."
And that was the end of it. Dismissed.
Harry nodded silently and carefully placed Fawkes into his bed of ashes before leaving the office.
xXx
The apologies to Ron and Hermione were something he never wanted to think about ever again. The memory blended together and spat back a feeling of nausea-inducing disgust at him as he practically ran through the halls of Hogwarts to put distance between them.
He'd spoken to them that night in the common room after dinner. There were listeners-in on their conversation, some first and second years perhaps, but the two of them didn't seem to mind.
They were hard faced as he fed them lies about being sad and lonely. They ignored his explanations, and he may as well have not made them. They didn't say a word about his supposed 'feelings'. They stuck up their noses at him, brushing his apologies off. And the moment he finished, they suddenly jumped right back in as their old selves, going straight back to asking him about what he'd done during the Summer. They didn't even bother to accept his false apology.
Somehow, he managed to distract them by telling them about the conversation he'd had with Dumbledore. They thought it was the best idea ever. Of course! It would be ever so exciting. But the conversation itself didn't last more than thirty minutes.
They exhausted him. He fed them bullshit about needing to relax. He told them he wanted to go walk around Hogwarts for a while. To relax.
They believed him.
He left with the invisibility cloak in his satchel.
xXx
Harry was dying.
He was absolutely sure of it. Never had he had to struggle this much to get a breath down his throat. His muscles wouldn't listen to him and he couldn't raise his head from the ground. The stone floor wasn't the best resting place, he was sure, but he just couldn't bring himself to move the two meters it would take to relocate to nice cushiony pillows.
"That was good!" The devil exclaimed.
Harry groaned in response.
"Come now, Harry. This was just our first training session and you did so well!" Tom seemed to be on a high of some sort. His smile spread from cheek to cheek and his footsteps were light; the man nearly bounced around the room.
"How…?" Harry coughed, managed to gather enough spit to wet his throat, and croaked, "How on Earth can you be in such good shape?!"
Harry had played quidditch nearly the entire time he'd attended Hogwarts, minus his fourth year and most of last year, of course. He ran from Dudley every single Summer. He was in good shape, damn it all, and it seemed like Tom wasn't even out of breath.
"I don't think it has as much to do with me being in good shape, as it has to do with the fact that you tend to run around too much." Tom grabbed a cushion from the pile pushed against one wall of the Room of Requirement and plopped down onto it beside Harry. "You tend to avoid staying in one place for too long. That's not a bad thing. But you might want to consider avoiding it in a drawn-out battle."
Harry gritted his teeth in frustration. Their last bout hadn't been a drawn-out anything. And Tom had run around nearly as much as he had.
But, then, just as Harry had asked, the man had certainly done his part to exhaust him. The moment Harry entered the Room and Tom caught a glimpse of his face, the man removed his cloak and drew his wand. Now, four pseudo-duels later, Harry couldn't feel his magic even twinge in response to his anger. And the anger had definitely not disappeared. Everything from the last few hours. The last few days. Months. Years. It was there. Boiling under his skin; always ready to erupt.
Harry clenched his eyes tightly closed. His fingers shook, and he clenched them tight. But it felt like the tremors only climbed higher, into his arms and shoulders and settling into his neck, where the tension coiled and settled.
They sat in silence for a while. Comfortable silence that Harry drowned in even as his head began to ache from the tension.
"Do you want to see your snake?" Tom's voice startled him.
"Ami?" Harry's heart clenched and his eyes burned. He choked out the words after more silence. "Yes."
"I can put you to sleep." Tom's voice soothed. His parent's killer's voice calmed him. What did that say about him?
Tom leaned over him and Harry's eyes fluttered open. He saw a flicker of red in the man's eyes before black spread through his vision.
xXx
He saw a mostly empty room when he opened his eyes. It was only filled with sunlight and a small bed that was pushed against a wall beneath a huge wall-to-wall window. If he hadn't seen the glare of the glass, he would have thought it was completely open to the elements (at least, what elements his mindscape could warrant). There was a slight breeze in the room and it rustled his hair. There was no furniture, but there was something like a window seat. The bed was old-fashioned, with a heavy wooden frame, and made up with delicate lacey bedclothes.
He went to the bed and considered it for a moment before he kicked off his mental shoes and hopped up onto the edge of it. By the time his arse hit the mattress, he had somehow changed from his normal robes into simple sleepwear. He laughed involuntarily in surprise.
"Well that's convenient." He muttered to himself. He laid back and spread his arms wide.
"Ami?" He asked aloud, eyes closed, not daring to open them until he had some form of proof that she'd actually appear when he called.
That proof came quickly, as a weight on his chest. His breath was gone for a moment. When he opened his eyes, his beautiful snake was staring at him from inches away.
"Ami." He sighed and lifted his hands to run along her scales. She twisted herself around his wrist and between his fingers. He laughed and dropped his head back onto the bed, closing his eyes.
In that way, mentally exhausted and in the coils of his trusted friend, he fell into a real, deep sleep, more quickly than he had in years.