Man in The Well

After what seemed centuries, his parents finally told him (after several heated arguments) that he could go to Hogwarts, as long as he fulfilled some... exigences, of course.

...

Albus could go to Hogwarts.

He could go!

Yes, finally.

Both his mother and father always reminded him that if anything happened, he could always ask to come home. But he had felt somewhat better in the last few days...

He received some bottled spells to animate specially made by his aunt Hermione and was able to use them after having nightmares. The Dreamless Sleep Potions also worked well, but he heard that a person could become addicted to them, so he didn't like to take them every night... the problem was that when he didn't drink them, usually he had very real-looking nightmares where he met the man in the well again. And sometimes he would wake up screaming, terrified. His parents would ask him what caused all that, but he never did tell them. Instead, he dismissed their concerns, saying that it had been only another nightmare.

Normal thing. Everyone had them.

Albus was only scared that this would happen at Hogwarts...

To help with that, but also to meet the exigencies his parents mad had also started to do some therapy sessions at with an extremely esoteric wizard.

His office consisted of a multicolored room, with a huge bookcase with the most varied mystical subjects (Divination, Muggle Tarot, Typical Dances of the World, Aromatherapy, Color Psychology: A Magic View).

Mr. Mackis Wehn watched him with his big purple glasses and messy hair, asking about his dreams and the boy's general condition, either he was fine or not. At first, he felt a little shy, but he ended up liking the therapist who always gave him chocolate with blackberries after his appointments and even gave him some books about dreams.

His mother did not like Mr. Mackis's appearance or strange methods, which consisted of divination techniques, crystal studies, tarot to bring good luck, invocation of "positive physique through colors", among others.

Albus knew that his mother had initially thought that it didn't work and she wanted him to see another therapist, but Albus talked to her saying he liked the appointments. They were so relaxing and enriching. Mr. Mackis knew a lot about culture and stories from around the world, was kind to him, and seemed to understand him.

Even if he never told him exactly about the man in the well, he never insisted. Albus told him that there was a specific dream that kept repeating itself, over and over again, and he remembered what he said:

"If a dream repeats itself once, it may be a sign of good luck! If it repeats itself constantly..., then it's a sign you may be overly fixated on something. I have this one book—"

The book was: "Dream World: beliefs and stories about dreams and nightmares", by Imar Iscarit. A gigantic book of about 2000 pages, very old and heavy. Some pages were torn and the moths had gnawed at the upper flap. It was dusty. Albus tried to borrow it.

His therapist always had interesting suggestions and it was possible to talk about anything with him, but he didn't want to lend it to him. He said it had some delicate and even dangerous themes.

Albus said he would only look at the first part of the book, he promised him, but he still wasn't convinced. It took him some more weeks, Albus always insisting, for him to finally let him have the book and he still seemed against it. Albus was rather curious and had to have the book.

This was why Albus felt guilty about hiding things from him... but, he had an almost mystical certainty that externalizing the dream would cause it to repeat itself even more and that, it would give it force, he'd allow this to invade the real world.

He had no way to explain this in more logical or rational terms..., but he was pretty sure that talking about the thing would bring terrible results.

At least with some techniques taught by the therapist, he was managing to calm down more before going to sleep and was able, when he had nightmares, to manage those episodes of night terrors and thus avoid waking up the whole house. The treatment had been a mixture of potions by the healer and behavioral therapy.

He had been feeling better.

Before going to Hogwarts effectively, Albus usually read some books or played chess with James and Lily, tended to the plants Neville had given him as a gift, or just slept a bit in the afternoon, when he was tired after a night of nightmares.

He found it much easier to sleep well in the afternoon after taking some bottled cheering spells with a dreamless sleep potion, he fell asleep quite easily, relaxed, calm, and happy.

The bad thing is that sometimes he was unable to sleep at night after an afternoon nap. When this happened, he would take some books to his room and read them at night, or try to satisfy his almost innate curiosity by carefully investigating the drawers and cabinets in the house, he had become good at walking quietly and not being noticed. Sometimes he heard fragments of important conversations about his father's or mother's jobs.

"They had only two followers and planned to steal eight dragons to sell their parts illegally on the black market. Two people and they thought they could steal eight dragons from Charlie's reserve in Romania and sell them here! Unbelievable. Anyone thinks they can form some clandestine group to do whatever they want now," said his father one night, he was with Ginny in their room. His voice was very tired. He had just arrived and it was already 4 am and Albus knew his father would have to work early tomorrow.

"There seems to be a lot of those groups active, most of them are still small, without financial resources or any practical expertise to promote itself, Ginny. But, it's still worrisome that they feel comfortable enough to be active! I heard some of them even tried to contact major groups, like the DPM," confessed his father, tense. This situation seemed to worry him a lot, he usually talked to his wife about the specific subject.

He also seemed unsatisfied with the Minister of Magic's handling of the situation, generally openly criticizing him.

His father had the theory that someone seemed to have been encouraging the formation of those groups, either financially or dialectically (by speaking to them directly and convincing them to do so).

But none of that could be checked or even proved. For his father, William Magis reforms and the lack of governmental assistance for marginalized groups were at the core of the crises, because if you paid attention closely most people that helped those clandestine groups belonged to some "undervalued" demographic when it came to national assistance (werewolves or goblins, for example) that didn't felt they were receiving enough help or being recognized as a legitimate part of the British society.

His mother said that this kind of problem was largely structural and needed to be addressed by competent lawmakers, responsible for elaborating the relevant public policies to address the problem. It was a long and difficult process. It couldn't be "solved" by ignoring the problem or promoting rapid and simples "solutions."

For example, some days ago, as he had heard from his father, there was a problem concerning an area near Cheshire (Albus couldn't get any information about the deaths happening in the region, but he suspected there had been another one). The werewolves, that lived in the periphery, were barred from participating in a specific festival and were also denied entry into the public library by a so-called "special decree aiming at maintaining public peace and security", the solution the Ministry of Magic gave to that kind of problem was that some cakes and books would be given especially to werewolves, while the population that felt threatened by them would also receive something special... more self-defense classes to be able to protect themselves in case of anything.

It was not a good solution. In the longer term, it changed barely anything, it victimized the werewolves, even more, almost "legitimating" their marginalization by the population and also encouraging "self-defense" against them.

Lots of complicated concepts, but Albus thought he understood it, at least a little bit.

In summary, the Ministry of Magic was being inefficient and not tackling problems as it should, which led to the rise of a clandestine group that formed some kind of parallel net of public support, while at the same time, acting as resistance to the national magical government that refused to help the "most in need."

"It would be crazy if they invaded the Ministry. I heard from Hermione that security had been strengthened just a few days earlier, with protests against the new Werewolf Legislation," added Ginny with a slightly raised eyebrow.

What? Albus had lost some parts of the conversation, he had been distracted.

"Which is absurd. By opposing this new legislation, you position yourself against any werewolves and their families, this legislation would, in practice, stop them from being allowed to study and work, they would have to pay a very high tax, the "danger tax". Plus, it wants the government to stop providing the Wolfsbane potion and would allow private companies to start selling them at the "market price", Ginny," said his father, seemingly distressed.

"Teddy was devastated too, he has been helping the cause a lot lately," informed his mother.

"Yes, I know... sadly, he also took a liking to Horton Cirley," commented Harry, unsatisfied with the situation. Albus wanted to know who was trying to invade the Ministry? Was it the DPM? The PNM? Albus had read more information about the two groups. If James was the "old James" he's have called him a nerd for doing that..., maybe he was a bit nerdy.

"Well, I understand you Harry, but in political terms, Horton Cirley is the strongest opposition to this law, he was the one responsible for that boy being able to get his education..., William Magis was trying to bar him from even going to Hogwarts, wasn't he? With that no-sense talk about "no-humans" shouldn't be allowed in," said Ginny with an irritated but, at the same time, sad voice.

"Yes, I... well, I don't know if this is him defending values he prioritizes on a personal level, or if this is for his campaign...," said Harry, tired.

"What? Will he run for Minister of Magic?!"

"I think he will. He didn't tell anything. But it seems logical to me, he has been making a large political opposition coalition, talking with lots of reports, hiring consultancies and agencies specialized in marketing, all these things. I think he has already started his campaign."

"But it's still too early, Harry, the election will only be in two years!" warned his mother.

"Well, he seems to like planning things."

Albus noticed someone was coming his way and fastly left the place, and went to his bedroom.

Soon James was near the open door, with a somewhat puzzled look on his face. Had he seen Albus listening behind their parent's door?

"Are you going to Hogwarts, right?" Asked him, tense.

"Yes...," he responded, uncertain about what James was trying to do. He held something behind his back.

"Here, I'm giving those to you, temporarily, of course. If I ask you need to give them back to me," warned James, with a small smile, but his face soon became tense again.

"Give me those? He asked, confused, he saw what appeared to be an old piece of parchment, but on the other hand, he held... what exactly?

Wait.

"Is this the cloak of invisibility?" He was shocked that his brother was giving him something so important, something he valued so much..., and even without his father telling him to do so.

"Yes, it's for you. I thought you may need more than me, you seem to be quite curious lately," Albis thought James knew he sometimes heard behind doors at times (not too much..., probably, just enough to know things, because he liked knowing things.)

"But then, this other thing is... the Marauders' map?"

"Yes, it's quite old, but it still works."

"James..., are you going to give this to me, are you serious?"

"Yes, temporarily, but..."

He suddenly hugged his brother, feeling way too happy not to do so. James seemed way too surprised with that, he let out a confused exclamation.

"Thanks, James!" He said, his brother gave him an awkward smile.

They didn't use to hug a lot.

"Are you really that happy, just because of this?" James awkwardly passed his hand on his hair nervously.

"Yes, thanks James," he said again. He couldn't even imagine how many new things he could discover now with the cape... the Marauders' map only worked at Hogwarts, but he would use it there.

He could still, before going to Hogwarts, try to find out something about what happened to him. No one wanted to tell him anything! His parents avoided the subject and seemed utterly uncomfortable every time he brought it up. But Albus believed he had the legitimate right to know exactly what had happened. He was, as their parents said once, the victim.

Why couldn't he remember? Why couldn't anyone tell him? Even if they, as they informed, allegedly knew little about the specifics of the case, they could still let him be a part of the discoveries..., he could formulate theories, he could do something.

What he hated was being useless. He was better now, he could deal with this problem... he could at least try to do something.

(You say that, but can you deal with the man in the well then? Can't deal with your nightmares, how are you going to manage the reality if what happened was so horrible no one wants to tell you?) He failed to repress this intrusive thought that broke part of his confidence.

"Albus? Are you okay?" He noticed that James had approached him with a somehow worried expression on his face. He immediately smiled, trying to forget the negativeness.

"Yes, of course," he answered, too fast.

"Well, then, I'm going back to my room, erm... bye," awkward again, why was their relationship so awkward? He was a bit annoyed.

"James, wait!" He told his brother who looked at him confused. Albus had to ask, he had to try to "solve" at this least this.

"James, do you need to say something?" He tried, encouraging his brother to speak. He had had that suspicions since the first time James visited him at the hospital, he seemed to have been bothered by something serious, but was keeping such things to himself. What was it? What was James hiding from him?

His brother opened and closed his mouth a few times, thinking about what to say, but gave up in the end.

"It's nothing. Just forget about it. I'm glad you are back, brother," he said, with an almost solemn expression on his face, the words full of meaning.

He thought he should insist, but James seemed so... sad. He didn't follow him.

What was happening to his brother?

He spent the rest of the day wondering about reasons for James' behavior, but he couldn't come up with a satisfactory theory.

At dinner, James seemed... okay, again. But was he, really?

"Is Teddy coming today, dad?" Asked Lily, getting a bit of turkey and putting it on her plate. Albus had completely forgotten that Ted would be coming today! He was training to be an auror, and that was the first time he talked with him since his kidnapping. He gave a small smile, he missed him.

"Yes, sweetie, he should be here very soon," said his mother, trying to make Albus's cat leave the sofa so she could clean it properly with a fast spell. Albus called the cat who promptly came to sit on his lap. He was so fluffy and cute..., now also a bit fat because his father tended to overfeed him, not really paying attention to the quantity of food.

While Albus gently squished the cat, they heard the doorbell.

"I'll open the door," said James, now seeming genuinely happy. Everyone loved Teddy.

His mother was telling him to sit with them at the table and leave the armchair where he sat with his cat. He reluctantly left the warm place near the steaming fireplace and immediately got his coat near the sofa.

"Al, it's not that cold!" Criticized his sister, drinking her pink milk.

"I-I feel a bit cold," justified Albus, sitting near his father. There was a journal near him, at the table, Albus tried to see what he had been reading, but soon his mother came and placed the palm of his hand at his forehead.

"No fever...," she said, a bit worried.

Albus usually felt cold without any apparent reason. He was the one that usually asked to lit up the fireplace, even on hot days. Why did he felt so cold? He had no idea.

"I'm okay, mom," he reassured her, and again tried to glance at the journal.

Who is the one responsible for the "incidents" in Cheshire?

Yes, that's what he wanted to know! He had to read that. But at this moment his mother picked up the journal and went to put it in the garage with a worried look.

Well, now that he had the cape, he could just go and pick it up at night. He knew his mother was a defender of the idea stating that there was an allegedly (at least, allegedly in Albus' opinion) division between adult talk and child talk.

She thought Albus was way too young to know about some things. But he wasn't. He was ready to discover the truth about Cheshire. Besides, it was not as if he was doing anything bad, he just wanted information. He didn't want to be ignorant!

It was important to know things about what was happening in the world, and it could also, at least in the long term, help him find answers to the indagations he had about the whole abduction thing.

He got up and went to greet Ted, but the boy, instead of doing only offering him a handshake, hugged him affectionately.

"I went to visit you, but... I don't think you remember that good thing you are okay now," said Ted, probably referring to his "catatonic state", that was what his parents said to him, that he been in this state for almost a week, not having any reaction at all, to anything or anyone.

Why did that happen? Maybe his therapist knew something about catatonic states... he should ask him next time. He should also later read the book about dreams.

(Man in the well, a man in the well, will I be able to sleep today without dreaming about it? I want to try sleeping without the dreamless sleep potion, but should I?)

"Thanks, Ted."

"Hey, Teddy, wants some turkey?" Asked Lily with her mouth a bit full.

"Lily! You look just like Ron when—" and then his mother started talking about her Hogwarts days and the way that uncle Ron seemed to always be hungry. Even Albus couldn't help but laugh a little bit at the situations she described.

But Albus realized that Ted and his father sometimes were throwing worried glances at each other. Would the reason for this be something to do with what Albus had heard before, about the Werewolf Legislation? Probably.

Did he, perhaps, came, not only for dinner but also for other purposes?

He knew that Ted's father, Remus Lupin was a werewolf... and that might be the reason Ted was helping the werewolf cause too. He was really passionate about it.

"But, you know, Harry, the one, well... the only one, actually, doing opposition to these measures is Horton Cirley," insisted Ted. He and his godson were talking in whispers.

"Let's talk about it later, Ted. Not here," insisted his father, serious.

A shame..., because Albus wanted to know about this subject also. Who was this Horton Cirley guy everyone talked about?!

His mother brought in a small lemon cake, it was Ted's favorite, but Albus preferred something sweeter, like cherry or strawberry cake.

Later, insisting he hadn't eaten enough, his mother offered him a hot chocolate and lit the fireplace again.

He was shaking now, the cold was getting more intense. No reason for that, but he was now really cold. It would pass, eventually, but it was... rather annoying!

He wanted to hear Ted and his father conversation, but he was so sleepy... and the armchair was so comfortable, his hot chocolate was so sweet and calming, his cat was sleeping soundly in his lap, the fire warmed up the ambiance, so cozy... maybe he should do the same thing as his cat and get some sleep. He hadn't slept well and was tired. He could discover the werewolf thing later.

Her aunt Hermione sometimes argued with her uncle Percy about the need for more werewolf rights.

He didn't know much about legislation and laws in general, but he felt that everyone should have the right to study and work, so he wasn't opposed to a werewolf studying at Hogwarts and didn't understand why anyone would be against it. How mean would you have to be in order to be against someone getting an education and being able to work?

Lily went to sleep already (his mother made her because she didn't want to), James went back to his room, his father and mother were talking with Ted, privately. He was alone...

He remembered the Marauder's map was in his robes' pocket. He decided to talk a brief look before taking a nap at the armchair. He knew how to use it already.

Hogwarts...

So big, so cool! He really wanted to go there as soon as possible.

He watched it amazed: Cuthbert Binns, the ghost teacher of History of Magic was at his class, not many people at the school by now...

It started raining. Now it was even more cozy.

He was getting more and more tired.

He'd sleep... for just a bit.

...

But that (sleeping without his potion) had been a mistake. A huge mistake.

He heard an ugly whisper and felt a strange sensation as if he were on a boat, sailing and nauseous

Corridors. More and more corridors. And Albus knew where they led to.

Only... there was something different this time..., they weren't the same corridors as before. What changed that? And the corridors... they didn't take him to a well this time. It was a door, apparently, a normal plain door. He tried to open it, it was closed..., but it didn't matter because he knew—

Nodoorisclossedtome.

He entered the scene, but couldn't see anything, because everything was shrouded in a black mist. Where was the mist coming from? Where was he?

I'mtheportalandtheportalisthekey!

He felt a strong impact against his body, but it did not affect him because—

Thecircleisclosed.

He heard a loud noise, but could not discern what it was. So confusing! What was even happening? Why was that dream different than the ones from before.

Suddenly he felt a horrible sensation, as if something or someone invaded his body without his consent, felt his hand burn, and he was absurdly cold—

Togetherinthecircleweareone!

He felt like he was "sailing" again, then he thought he had woken up. He then got up from the armchair where he was sitting, but around him, there were only doors and more doors floating in the air.

He knew if he opened the wrong door, he'd see the man in the well. He just knew it. And he didn't want to see it!

Again, sailing-sensation... he was back at his armchair. He knew it was a dream still, but couldn't awake. It felt like an episode of sleep paralysis, he had researched about it before...

And there was again something there with him.

Yes.

The man in the well?

Was he the one behind his favorite armchair near the fireplace, was he the one invading his space? Entering his house, disturbing his peace and his confidence in himself? Was he the one converting this intimate space into a constant reminder of his failure at defeating (or even facing) the evil man? How dare he come in here?

(Face him, face him, Albus Severus Potter, face him right now! If you don't you will never feel free! You will keep losing confidence in yourself! You are a wizard! What can this man do to you? How can you expect to solve your problems if you are afraid of the dream man?! Laughable! He doesn't even exist! It's not real. It's only in your mind!)

But what is only on the mind can be also terrifying. When you are dreaming, you may feel vulnerable, you may feel not in control, and then that's when you realize that maybe... you were not so brave.

Not brave enough.

Cold. Too cold. Had the fire gone out?

Or...

It was the man in the well hands. They were in the armchair. They were touching his arms.

(The man from the well caught me and will now take me with him to that dark, damp well. It's over. Now I'm going to have to be just like him! I'm going to have to be stuck in the well and in the future, I might become the man in the well)

"Albus! For God's sake, wake up!"

Hand. Hand! There was a hand holding him. It held him. The man from the well's hand. That hand came from the well It should have stayed in the well, rotting forever.

"NO! DON'T TOUCH ME!" He screamed, slapping the hand away.

"Albus!" It was James, he was deadly pale, looking at him immensely worried.

He was awake. But his hand and arms hurt a lot. His whole body hurt. He was still tired (obviously it hadn't been a reinvigorating sleep), he was cold, shaking and he was freaking out.

(Man in the well, the man in the well! He touched me, he was here, he is real, I fetl it and—)

His right hand was burnt.

(He's real. He's real. He's real. And he touched, he touched me. Those hands touched me. It came from the well!)

He couldn't breathe right. He had to check his arms, they were hurting too..., but he was terrified he would see the marks of his hands there.

"Oh my god, Albus! I'll call dad!" Said James, alarmed when he saw his hand.

But it wasn't necessary. Both his father and mother were already there, looking at him worried. He was shaking a lot; he could barely move his hands the right way.

"Albus, sweetie, look at me. Look at me. What happened? Did you remember something?!" His father was near the armchair. He held his arms affectionately, trying to be supportive and reassure him, but it had the opposite result.

"No! No touching! No, please," he said, breathless, he was crying now. His father immediately let go, giving a very significant look at Ginny, who started crying.

"What do you remember?" Asked his father, gently, in a whisper.

What were they talking about? He didn't remember anything! The problem was the man in the well! He had to check his arms to see whether he was real or not.

(But you already know he is, don't you?)

"N-Nothing, nothing," he said, drying his eyes with the sleeve of his coat. He was glad his parents couldn't see his arms (he felt they were dirty, rotten, disgusting... the man in the well had touched them! He wanted to wash immediately!).

"Albus...," his father seemed to want to insist.

"Only a nightmare. I need to wash, I'm cold and dirty," the last word makes his mother cry even more. James looked at him mortified, his eyes open in shock, he seemed to have understood something.

His eyes got teary, but he managed to hold his tears back. Why was James so shocked right now? They all seemed to have a different kind of understanding of the situation.

Albus was saying that because of the man in the well... what were they thinking it was all about, exactly?

"No, dear, you aren't. You are not dirty. Let me see your hand... it's burned. How did you do this, was it the fireplace?" His mother insisted, talking very gently to him.

Albus didn't know how we would explain it to her.

(No mom, it was just the man in the well, he did something to my hand... you know, the strange man appearing in my dreams. I thought he wasn't real, but actually, he is. I think he wants to take me to the well with him. Yes, I totally can go back to Hogwarts already. No need for me to go back to ' Psychiatric Ward...)

"No... Wait. It's... a frostbite...," she said, suddenly. Confused.

Well, he was feeling cold... but...

"Should he take him to , Harry?" Asked his mother, worried.

"No! I'm okay," insisted Albus, loudly.

(I'm okay, just another dream about a man in the well, normal... but this time he's real. How do I face someone in my dreams? A dream man that is also real and is haunting my dreams, manifesting himself here and giving me frostbites, touching me with those hands...)

His father didn't seem so sure. He wanted to examine Albus's hand and was trying, but Albus insisted he was fine. His mother performed some spells..., but the wound wasn't healing.

"Harry..." His mother now seemed way more worried than before.

"It'll heal on its own," said Albus quickly.

"Al...,"

"It doesn't even hurt anymore. I don't want to go to . It was only a nightmare. I didn't take any potion," explained Albus. Wishing they would let it go.

"I... need to rest now, if it doesn't get better, take me tomorrow...," offered Albus, trying to make his voice sound tired (it wasn't really difficult, he was tired.)

"I-... Okay, Al, but... go rest," said his father, still worried and with a serious expression.

"Harry, don't you think we should—"

Albus had already gone up the stairs. Lily was looking at him with a sad expression from his room, she had woken up with all the commotion.

"Are you okay, Al?" She asked.

"Yes, Lily, just... just a bad dream."

She said something else, but Albus was too eager to check his arms. He had to confirm it. He had to. He looked at his arms.

Two marks resembling two big hands, one on each arm. Ugly frostbites.

He almost screamed in pure terror.