Chapter-11: Sunny Days, Cold Nights.
...
His eyes focused on the old man who wore a look of concern, and a slight glean of happiness.
Feeling the numb sensation on almost all of his body parts, he was just staring, an emotionless facade refusing to break.
…
…
Albus Dumbledore knew that he could not understand Harry Potter, at all. That was clearly visible, no one was able to understand, not his friends, not his guardians, no one. Yet, he found himself in a particular situation that he felt suggested that he was being scrutinized.
As though, the boy in front of him was testing his worth.
The emotionless facade that boy wore refused to break… the idle stare that he gave, and the aloof vibe that he gave.
Albus Dumbledore found himself getting anxious… by every second.
Never did he feel like this before. Not when he fought Tom at his prime, not when he fought Gellert at his peak, not when he stood in front of Grandmaster Flamel for his apprenticeship… and not when he saw his sister getting tortured by the muggles, the supposed people that his father and mother fondly told to treat kindly.
Shifting his gaze slightly from the Po-Peverell heir - Albus chastised himself mentally - his eyes focused on the Boy Who Lived that had been saved by the enigma that he was not eager to solve.
Neville had suffered, not immensely - Poppy assured him - but the breaking of many ribcages, and the several sparks of midway fire that had touched his body. Burns of fire were not too lethal, but not the ones that an eleven-year child should have suffered. It was no sooner when his gaze fell across Harry and Albus realized.
Neville paled in comparison to Harry.
For Albus, his students were something that he held high. Higher than anything else. It was not his ideals that took the top spot but his students. They were the ones that had been given in his care, assured that nothing could harm them, but… seeing the situations… right now, Albus could not say he had done well.
Harry was covered in his own sweat, and his own blood. That blood and the sweat mingled together, as the several drops of them trailed on his shirt. Speaking of the shirt, it was torn, and some threads of it covered the boy's chest. A bloodied torse that looked as though it had been pounced by the tiger.
The dislocation and breaking of several bones were completely visible. Yet the injuries least bothered the boy, and he stared at him with his eyes, devoid of emotions.
Albus Dumbledore could not help but look guilty at the sight in front of him.
He was a broken man. A man of regrets, all of his life he had seen loss, loss, and loss. Had he gained anything from the deeds he had done, perhaps. Fame, glory, money, and every luxury that man had the desire for, he had achieved. Yet none satisfied him.
Whole his life, he had served people, yet none thought about his well-being. Perhaps, this was life. Everyone had a selfish desire, and all they did was care about themselves.
Albus chuckled.
…
…
Poppy Pomfrey knew that her life was going to be restless. She knew it from the day she entered the healer program.
She would see the vilest and most disgusting thing in her life just by entering that program, she knew.
She had seen it all. She was healing the patients in the previous war, and neither she was a slouch, nor she was a robot.
Pain.
She knew all along, well, better than the most. They might think of her as a tyrant, a cruel nurse, or a strict matron, but none knew what she was doing, and for what she was doing. It did not matter to her, it never did. She was doing her job greatly, and that was all she cared about.
...But what she was seeing here made her aghast.
"...He used Cruciatus on you," she said, with a grasp as Albus' head snapped towards her, with wide eyes, but she did not care about him, she gawked at the boy.
...And he seemed as though he was contemplating what she said. He tilted his head towards her.
"Did he?" He asked as if it was a fickle thing.
"Of course, you idiot boy, and more than … once." She continued, answering him.
"How many times did he use on Harry, Poppy?" Albus asked before she could continue. The voice was calm, almost a whisper, but Poppy could see the latent blazing fury behind those gentle blue orbs.
"Four, and the same area where it had been used has been severed by a cutting curse..." Her answer was blunt, but care shone in his eyes.
He rubbed his numb abdomen, where Poppy had located the curse. Although the area was numb, it looked like he was feeling the pain now… A realization dawned over him, yet his expression remained the same. Without one.
"Ah, I see. There was this burning feeling in my stomach, but I ignored it," the Potter boy replied sheepishly. That damned Potter boy-
Her hands suddenly froze as she realized he looked like James when he got an injury from one of his quidditch matches.
Regaining her consciousness, he looked at Albus who looked somewhat amused, despite the seriousness of the situation. She glared at him, and he regained merry old man persona.
"And not that, Mister Potter. You have been subjected to several cutting curses, fire-making curses, blasting hexes, and several dark curses." She continued to read on, and the boy was least bothered by them.
Poppy finished, looking at him for an explanation. And she got a million-dollar answer that no one was expecting. He contemplated it for a moment or so. Before he gazed at her, "I see..." He muttered. "Please give me the medicines for them, Poppy."
And Poppy Pomfrey did one thing that she was supposed to.
...She facepalmed…
…
…
"Poppy, can you please leave Mister Potter and me alone?" Albus asked, giving the matron one of his merriest smiles that had been crippled into a mere moment of lips by years. One could not point at him, he was 111 for Merlin's sake!
Poppy gave a nod with a frustrated huff - that two of them ignored, if I may add - and went outside the room, muttering something about 'careless and recklessness.'
A few moments of … silence passed.
Albus was getting bored of the silence, he coughed, "Firstly, I must thank you, Mister Potter, for saving young Neville's life. Merlin knows what would have occurred, had you not been there to intervene, and take the lead."
Nod.
"Now, I must ask you to be curious, and I will try to answer your questions efficiently."
Another nod.
Another moment of silence, before his voice broke the silence.
"So, firstly I must ask, were you ever aware that Voldemort's alive?"
A blunt question and the answer was quite easy. He tilted his head. Positive, he was.
"I was indeed aware but had no proper evidence if he was. It was just a hunch, but I know for sure that he is."
Harry snorted, "Isn't it a little obvious? He in his wraith form, but anyways." He dismissed his thoughts with a shrug. His eyes turned sharp like an eagle and focused back on Albus' eyes.
"And you did nothing? I am sure that the leader of light would do something to end the Dark Lord permanently, or even try to make the world aware."
Albus winced internally when he spat one of his titles as an insult, and truly Albus considered it as a curse that would kill him forever. Managing his expressions, he spoke in a soft voice.
"There was nothing I could do with it."
Harry arched an eyebrow, "Nothing? I am sure there would be something. You are not recognized as the world's greatest wizard for nothing."
That sure came out as flattery, but there was only a serious intent.
"When was this title given to me?" Albus asked, after some time suddenly.
"I beg your pardon?" The boy arched another eyebrow.
"I said 'When was this title given to me?' Mister Potter." Albus repeated, with a serene expression on his face.
A quizzical expression washed over Harry's face before it brushed off nigh immediately. As though, a problem had come, then went away the second moment.
"Probably around your defeat of Grindelwald," he replied, his tone was filled with confidence, not arrogance, but it lacked….Interest… it lacked interest.
"What was my age at that time?" Albus flickered his wand in his hand, as his gaze fell across the length of the beautiful wand.
His first wand. His first companion. His first partner. And his only partner. Ebony 10 inches with unicorn tail hair.
"Forty-Six." Albus was snapped out of his thoughts, he smiled again, nodding in agreement.
"Indeed. That was the age of prime. I was at the peak of my life, at the age of 46. Now, I am right now, nothing but an old man, who is waiting for Death to claim."
The shudder that went through Harry's spine, and that uncomfortable expression that settled on his face for a blink before returning back to that facade, Albus did not miss either.
"But what about the duels that you had with Voldemort in the previous war. The books, even the people said, that you both were evenly matched if not you outmatched him."
Albus chuckled.
Curiosity could be such an interesting thing, almost unfathomable, never-ending, never filling.
"Books say a lot of things, Harry. A lot of things, all of them are not true… but… there is always a grain of truth even in the worst rumors."
"Like they say about Longbottom being Boy Who Lived and all."
Chief Warlock nodded and smiled pleasantly.
"True, but Neville's book says a lot that even the books about me do not." There was a sudden twitch on Harry's lips as he was trying too hard not to smile.
The pleasant atmosphere circled them, and Albus started to believe that now they could hold a conversation worthy of a teacher and a student.
"So, what are you going to do, now you know that Voldemort is alive?"
"Wait," Albus said after, placing his thoughts in his mental landscape.
"Wait?"
"Indeed. I have naught against him as of right now, I must observe his plans, his moves, and act wisely. He did not get trapped in the mirror." The last part was a mutter, but Harry heard it.
"Wait, you knew that Quirrell was Voldemort!" Harry's voice was incredulous, as though barely holding his emotions that he was being overwhelmed by.
Oops! That was a mistake, and now that pleasant atmosphere around them that Albus had managed to cultivate was broken. All it remained was the undying silence, and waves of cold fury.
Albus titled his head slowly.
"And you did nothing!" He snarled in anger. "There were students that could have died, just because of your carelessness!"
The anger did not affect Albus, he was used to seeing roaring and raging people in front of him. Albus just stood there, and the boy ranted until he was out of breath.
Grabbing the glass of water roughly, he gulped down the liquid and grunted in slight satisfaction.
"And what of the mirror you were saying?" Harry questioned gruffly. Apparently, his anger for Albus did not go away. Albus dare not to expect when it would. It could be eternal.
"The mirror was supposed to seduce Quirrell or Voldemort, trapping him there for an eternity with an inconvincible lust for the stone, but unfortunately Mister Longbottom appeared at the area of witness."
"Then too, leaving the item in the presence of students was dangerous."
Albus arched an eyebrow, "You do care?" It was more of a statement than a question
He huffed, "I care about the people I have called 'friends.' No one else matters to me more."
Albus inclined his head in acknowledgment.
"Speaking of the stone, where is that?"
The boy looked over at him, and… shrugged.
"I don't really know. Last I remembered, it was in my hand before Voldemort tried to grab it, and it somehow fell on the floor. Then we were fighting for it, and it came between our spells, somehow the spells destroyed it."
Albus bored his eyes into Harry's. There had been the slightest suspicion that the boy was lying, but the expressions that were marrying his features convinced Albus that he was telling the truth. Staring, he nodded his head quietly.
"I see.." Dumbledore muttered. He nodded again appreciatively, "Well, I am thank you for the input of the events since Neville is still in deep slumber, we must let him sleep, but I truly thank you, Mister Potter had you not been there, Neville would have died by now."
Harry shrugged uncaringly before his iris concentrated again.
"Did you inform anyone? My friends, you know?"
Dumbledore shook his head, "No they had not been, and it will be better to keep this event a secret, unknown to as many as possible."
Harry nodded whilst lost in another thought.
"I must take my leave, you can call Poppy if you need something."
Harry gawked at him, before he averted his eyes, looking at the white ceiling of hollowness.
…
…
Twenty-four hours, fifty-four minutes, and seven seconds.
It had been twenty-four hours, fifty-four minutes, and seven seconds since his episode in the room with Quirrell or should he say, Lord Voldemort. He was growing restless.
The students who had asked what had transpired were simply told, an accident which Professor Quirrell became the victim of, and injuries of Mister Potter and Longbottom. Of course, they would ask this because of the absence of the two most important students in the school.
Tonks had ranted and vented all over again, that how he should be careful, and should not go near 'mad bastards,' as she called Quirrell. Ashley too had visited him, but he was surprised when Blaise, Terry, and Megan visited him.
After seven hours, he was discharged from infirmary, but certain parts of his body still ached, after-effects of Cruciatus, he supposed.
He had taken a leave from the school that Dumbledore had granted him merrily, and he was here, lying on the bed of his room.
The cold winds of gust flew, spreading throughout his body. He shuddered as the wind nuzzled on the exposed body parts.
The night was colder. Outside, a blazing storm was occurring, even though it was still January. The night was colder than he had ever seen before.
He woke again, sweating, it was the first time when he was exposed to them, and facing them as they truly were.
Nightmares.
He had never felt that feeling of helplessness before. Never had he felt them before. But now, he was feeling it for the first time. What was Fear? He was learning right now. Nightmares, they were such a fickle thing. It was almost sudden when he started feeling.
The huge intakes of breath gathered his attention. Sweat was covered all over his face, he was gasping for breath every time. How many times had this occurred this time? Four? Or was it five?
The strange thing was he was aware that he had woken up from a nightmare, yet could not remember a thing. Not a single thing. Every time he tried to remember by concentrating, using his all occlumency skills, he was greeted by a massive headache.
His pale face turned even paler as the moonlight illuminated above him, as though it was mocking him.
Silver.
...
The blood from his slightly torn shirt, shred out from the gash - present on his arm - of the cutting curse that he had been subjected to. The blood traveled on his hand, with the deepest of the red hue.
It fell over the wand from his finger, as his wand gleamed the ethereal color of silver. He looked at the mirror, and just for a second, it showed his current image.
A torn, and cut body. Ripped shirt and trouser, cut at various parts, but the most distinguishable were his eyes that glowed silver, his pocket in the trouser glowed silver. The same pocket that held his cloak.
…
That memory. It came all of sudden. Out of nowhere. As if it was screaming to remember it.
It fell over the wand from his finger, as his wand gleamed the ethereal color of silver.
It was his blood that fell over the wand, and it glowed silver as did his cloak. With the contact of his blood, they glowed silver.
A coincidence? But there was no coincidence in the magical world, every single thing that had transpired and would transpire, had a reason and would have a reason.
Startling, he hurried out of his bed. With leaden steps, he walked to the nearest desk. He grabbed his cloak and the wand that he had yet to touch for a day.
With a flick of the beautiful wand, the nearest pen turned into a sharp knife, craving for blood to touch its surface.
He placed his cloak, and then placed his wand on the top of it. He took the knife in his hand, scrutinizing it carefully.
With another deep, but scarce breath, he gave a cut on the side of his left hand. He did not wince, he did not hiss, all he stared at. As the skin split into two, and a pool of red blood fell from his wrist to the wand, the blood from the wand started flowing and ebbing before it reached his cloak, and now both the items share the same amount of blood.
For a moment, naught happened. Then, it glowed…
The ethereal sheen of silver dawned all over it, as it radiated comfort and coldness. Harry gasped as he touched the wand.
"CAW!" The window snapped open, as Mavis feathered herself, but one closer look and one would observe that her black onyx irises were silver, pure silver.
His eyes shined silver.
With the glowing wand, he flicked and somehow felt it easier. The handstand turned into the mirror, and he grabbed it roughly. His eyes bored into the ones of the image formed into the mirror; they were silvers.
A thousand questions started roaming in his mind, and he wanted the answer to all of those right now. Another thought snapped, and he glanced at his familiar expectantly.
The glow ended.
A small smile, twitched into a smile of affection as he stroked the feather of the raven, as she trilled happily, and nuzzled closer to his hand.
"Mavis," he whispered in a small voice. "Bring me the stone that I gave you." Mavis stole a glance for a second before she nodded. Flapping, she went through the window.
The hustle sound of the seat that he sat upon, his face twisted into the one of curiosity. What was happening? Perhaps, it was something related to blood magic. After all, Dumbledore did tell him that his father owned it before, and normally, the invisibility cloak was usable for only 7 years at most, but this did for more than 11 years.
A family heirloom, he supposed.
No, it was something deeper. A family heirloom never did reduce the difficulty of magic. Well, some did, but no cloak and a wand were supposed to do that. If some heirlooms, then they were rings or necklaces.
What was the strangest that had happened to him since the start of the year?
"...I was expecting better from a Peverell..."
Peverell. It had been always this Peverell that he got curious about. Firstly, he got sorted into a house that none were aware of. Peverell. Then, Dumbledore told him some spooky secrets about Peverell. Voldemort had taken a special interest in him and addressed him as a 'Peverell.'
All the facts lead to Peverell.
He was forced by Dumbledore, not to search it, until he became of a certain age, but now, he had no other choice.
"Caw," Mavis flapped her feathers as he flew over his shoulder, dropping the yellowish stone on his.
A stone that can turn metal into gold.
Picking up the stone, he scrutinized it closely as checked how the light passed through it. It did perfectly as it was supposed to. The only way to know whether it was real or fake; test it.
Grabbing the special fountain pen that his professor had gifted him once, that was completely made up of metal. He brushed the stone's surface on the boy of the pen. For a moment, nothing happened.
Then, it started converting, the rough gray surface of the metal change started changing into gold, and it reflected the light perfectly that fell across it.
It's real, huh? That is why Dumbledore cared about it this much. Now what to do with it.
There was one big problem: he did not have any use of it. He did not want to become immortal, and if he would want to, then he would find a way to become one on his own. He could have a lot of money, but they would be worth a little to him as the three houses that he was head of the house of, were filling up with gold, and jewelry.
The only thing that remained: give it back to the old man, and take something in return. There could be many things that he could take but he needed one: Knowledge.
He needed knowledge. Right now, he needed knowledge on a particular subject that he must take: Peverell.
Flamel has lived six hundred years, so he must know about it.
Grabbing the nearest, he started to write with his newly made gold pen.
Grandmaster Nicholas Flamel,
Allow me to introduce myself, this is Harry Potter; the sole Potter, and the heir of the Potter family. In case, you have never heard of me, then my ancestor, Abraham Potter had been your apprentice.
This letter has been written to you, for a particular reason. I am in possession of one of your (perhaps the most) prized possession. That is philosopher stone. You have given this stone to Albus Dumbledore for protecting, but I have stumbled across it, and it is in my possession, now.
I see no reason to hide my identity from you, as I am already in the possession of one of the most powerful objects in the world, and you must know that it could be used in different ways, but I have no desire to do so.
In fact, I have no desire to use it, but I want one thing in exchange, and that is knowledge. You must know that knowledge is man's greatest treasure, and a pen is mightier than power. All I want are my questions to be answered, as I can find the answers nowhere.
Should you answer them truthfully, I shall return you the stone, without doing any harm.
Sincerest regards,
Harry Potter.
As Harry was wrapping this letter, Mavis nudged him. He looked at her expectantly, and she was looking at him with… puppy eyes?
"Caw," she grumbled as her eyes looked down at the parchment.
"Okay..." he muttered.
"Caw, Caw," she squawked again, and he nodded.
"We'll do it," he said with a small smile.
"CAW!" Mavis jumped excitedly flapping her feathers.
Harry took the pen and added the most important line in the whole letter. As he scribbled the lines, Mavis started bouncing with joy, as she flapped her feathers, and flew upon his shoulder. The gibberish sounds of the pen ended, adding the most important line.
PS: Don't be surprised, if my raven manages to enter your manor, despite the wards.
…
…
He was finished with his work, as he enveloped the letter, and gave it to Mavis. The journey from England to France would be long, but it was Mavis he was giving the letter to, he was sure that she could venture far more away.
"Harry?"
A startled jump and he turned around to face the voice; the caramel voice, he could recognize it very easily.
"Ash, isn't it a little late to come?" Harry asked her, to which she shrugged. She was wearing a pair of pajamas, and a simple nightdress.
"It's not like you were sleeping or something," she pointed out, and he nodded; he wasn't.
"What were you doing anyway?" She continued, evidently curious.
He blinked and shrugged. "Nothing really, just sending a letter to the bookstore for some book." He lied smoothly, and for a reason, she seemed convinced by the fact.
Distracted, he arched an eyebrow, "Tell me, what are you doing? It's 2 in the morning."
A visible shudder went to her spine, "Nightmares." She whispered in a small voice.
Right now, he seemed to understand her better than he ever did, perhaps. He could compare her situation with his, at the moment.
Smiling gently, he sat near the chair and motioned her to do the same. "What happened? Tell me?"
Even though she heard him loudly and clearly, she seemed distracted. Her breath hitched for a moment, and she seemed scared. "There was this man..." She started. "Probably, a muggle, he was sitting with his family in the dining figure… and then, there were two masked men. They were armed with something black, long thing, that when pushed the button on the bottom, released some kind of, you know, long, streamlined objects of metal… and then, the objects penetrated the family head, and then they were dead… all gone." With the last part, her voice was almost hollow, barely concealing her emotions.
Harry looked at her with bewilderment and speculation, "That's typical." He muttered, scratching his chin. "You dreamt of guns, bullets, muggles, and that too, not like a dreaming fantasy."
She nodded, but looked befuddled, "Umm... Guns, bullets? What are those?"
He shrugged, carelessly. "Muggle weapons, that 'black, long thing' is called a gun. It was first invented by Samuel Colt, the first version of it was a revolver. It was made in the hopes that the war would be stopped by it. Stopped, my arse, it increased." Harry snorted. "And that small, streamlined objects were bullets, they are filled in guns along with gunpowder and all, one right shot at the body, and you are dead. In simple terms, it is like a muggle killing curse."
She blinked, blinked, and blinked, and started laughing hysterically.
"..."
"..."
"What's so funny about it?" He demanded.
"It's just… just.." She went on another bout of laughing. Finally finished, she faced the grumpy Harry, "It's just… you have changed so much." The gentle smile turned into a big smile of affection.
"Like?" He arched an eyebrow.
"Like a few months ago, I would not have expected Harry Potter to smile, laugh, or care, or even give a reaction, but now, you give reactions openly. You are not the emotionless boy that you used to be."
He hummed, and turned back to her, beside the emotionless facade, she could see slight curiosity, "Then why did you befriend me?"
She averted her eyes, "Honestly, I don't know. " She said, sincerely. "There was this gut feeling that asked me to do it. It felt like you just needed some friends."
"I really don't know." He replied with an incredulous stare.
"Of course, you don't," she said dryly. She turned her chair and looked outside the window. The moonlight irradiated over their face, as Ashley's face turned even paler, and her blue shined with awe.
"The moon's beautiful tonight," she murmured.
He too, looked at the natural satellite, "Yeah." He nodded in agreement; it truly was.
"It's almost silver," she whispered, but noticing, his slight uncomfortable expression that he hid very well if she might add, she decided not to say anything.
Both did not remember how much time they sat there, but they sat there alone in the darkness, only with each other company.
The sudden gust of wind caused Ashley to shudder against the cold wind that brushed against her exposed skin. She embraced herself tightly, and he stared at her, barely moving his body.
"Say, Harry?" He was snapped out of his thoughts when she whispered his name.
"Yeah?" He muttered, both were staring at the moon.
"Why is the night so cold?" She questioned him, already knowing the answer. Albeit, it looked like she was desperate to ask it.
"Because it is January," he replied obviously.
"Then, why are the days so sunny?" Her next question and he found himself at the loss of words.
He shook his head, "I-I don't know."
She hummed with slight amusement lacing with her voice. "I wonder why it is like that."
"I do too." He added.
"Why is the weather so strange?"
"Perhaps, the answer is not in weather, but in something different." He said after thinking sometimes.
"What? Where is the answer?" She asked, blinking owlishly.
"Life is strange," his one-line answer caused her to lost in thoughts, lost in logic, mentality, and perception. Curiosity dawned over her, and she wanted to ask what he meant by it, she was Ravenclaw for a reason. A Whirlpool of emotions swung in her brain as the thoughts that she never thought about, were getting in use right now.
After a moment, she put a finger under her chin, "Perhaps." She said, and if possible his smile got even bigger.
"Perhaps."
...
A/N:
Umm… surprise?
No, I was not dead, and yes I was busy. No, I am busy. The past month, I had finished my tests, and exams dawned on me… And being the lousy kid, that I am, I am very unprepared for them.
My all days fly like a bird, and I barely got time for self-enjoyment, much less write. So, I had to prepare most of my subjects, that is tough shit if I must say.
But now, my condition has improved, and I can say, that I am thoroughly prepared for them, and also, my school timings are hysterical and peculiar, but from five days, I managed to steal some time to write, so here's the new one.
I have a little motivation to write Warrior' Way, all I see is a loosely connected plot, and bland writing and grammar. I have come a long from that time, I am better at expressing my imagination in words - at least, I think so-, now, but I'll continue it, until I start detesting it, which would be soon. There are guys out there, that used my idea, and are doing a damn better job than me, at executing it.
This chapter has not been proof-read like any other, so if there is any glaring mistakes or weird sentence, please do tell me!
Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this one. Feel free to review.
Thank You.