49. Nightmares
His time with the Pale Lady had been but a reprieve, no matter how wonderful. Harry was haunted.
It was by no spirit either. In place of this, he would've welcomed such an occurrence. Uneasiness that had plagued him since the Quidditch attack made themselves known in greater effects. Like never before, his scar raged against him. As though a knife of molten metal was rammed and twisted in for good measure, his scar throbbed.
Visions, disjointed and unnerving, raced through his green eyes. On moment he was in the Hogwarts dining hall, the next he was in a dark secluded room with severe faces and dark chanting before he once again saw the hall for what it was.
"-arry", he finally heard Hermione call. Turning to face her, he saw her worry. Such a disgusting creature she was, filth that had no right being in his presence. It was so disgusting how she liked to follow him like a lost puppy.
"You don't look so good. Stomach not agreeing with you?" He realized Ron was speaking. Like some kind of diseased pig, the Weasley munched on his feed. It was a miracle that his lot was allowed into the school.
This time, he saw himself surrounded by empty cells and cheering criminals. The teen clutched his forehead as though to put a stop to his belittling and troubling thoughts. As soon as his favored gloves brushed against his scar, his anguish ceased. A feeling of relief washed over him like a cool breeze.
That was when Dumbledore began his speech, "Students this year Hogwarts has been bestowed the great honor of hosting the Triwizard Tournament. During this time, we expect you, the students, to proudly represent your school as we invite Durmstrang and Beauxbatons Magical Schools into our halls. Due to the scale of the tournament, regular Quidditch activities shall be cancelled for the year."
Ron slammed his forehead against the table in frustration.
Dumbledore continued, "Potential contestants must be at least seventeen in age. I shall remind you that this tournament is not a game. These measures are for your security. Deaths are not a rarity in these trials."
Even as the Dumbledore gave his warning, the students began to whisper excitedly about the decidedly deadly affair. Harry for one had no such interest in the tournament. His life was a dangerous thing without him jumping into such things. The prizes weren't worth thinking of. He had fame, whether he liked it or not, and a thousand Galleons didn't hold a candle to the contents of his vaults.
The rest of the proceedings was lost to him as his mind wandered to the nature of his visions. Hedwig hooted in concern as she perched herself upon his shoulder. So riddled with worry, she barely ate more than half of Harry's food.
…
Dumbledore sat solemnly as he peered at Harry, not an insignificant amount concern in his aged eyes. The news of Harry's visions foreboding of terrible things. "How long have you been having these visions?"
"Not for very long, sir. It really started today. I didn't feel like myself", Harry admitted.
The headmaster of Hogwarts began to mutter to himself as he glanced upon the whirling magical devices on his desk. A full minute of silence passed between them before the man spoke again and gravely, "Beware of the sights you see. I fear that your link to Voldemort is greater than I ever expected. That hatred you felt towards Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger were not your own, but those of Tom Riddle, Voldemort. It seems for now he is unaware, but do not hope for this to last. It's only a matter of time before your very mind is no longer secure."
The words hit Harry like a train. How much could Voldemort observe from his side? Had he seen his friends or even the Pale Lady? Though, if he was honest to himself, he didn't quite feel that Voldemort was a proper match against the woman. But it still quietly enraged him at the thought that his moments alone with her was invaded by something as minor as a mind link. Those moments where the world was built on a foundation of them alone wasn't somewhere that Voldemort was invited.
It wasn't somewhere anyone was invited.
"Harry, my boy, have you ever happened across the term Occlumency?" Dumbledore's eyes twinkled in conspiracy. "I'm quite sure that one as inquisitive as yourself have heard whispers of this art, correct?"
He had indeed brushed against the subject in his near constant indulgence in all things magical. Occlumency was the magical defense of the mind against intrusion. The teen nodded quickly.
Dumbledore appeared pleased, "This is good news. If not for the unfortunate timing, I would train you myself, alas we rarely get exactly what we desire in our lifetime. Nevertheless, I shall ensure that you receive tutelage, but until then brush up on your knowledge in this field."
"Thank you, sir", Harry said in honest appreciation.
"It's my pleasure. I dearly regret that I couldn't be of more direct help. But a word of warning Harry, dark times are coming. Tom has been silent for too long. After his rise to power, Tom forsook any pretense of patience. Stand by your friends and do not grow arrogant of your gifts."
Harry nodded as he left the office. He couldn't help but notice the elderly man's drifting focus, no doubt caught up in some personal memory. There was much he didn't know of the man. Sometimes Harry wondered who actually knew Dumbledore. Jovial as he acted, Dumbledore was very much alone.
As he walked back to Gryffindor chambers, he felt that he could have easily ended up having the same lifestyle as Dumbledore. That was no life. If not for the combination of the Pale Lady's friendship and his entry to Hogwarts, his life would hardly be as fulfilling as it was today.
Harry rose his gloves and caressed them. "Thank you for caring about me", he said tenderly to himself.
