A/N: OK, I'm trying this again. Part 11 hasn't come up the last THREE times I've posted!!! AAARRRGGHH! Please excuse the random slashes in the middle of some of my words. I did not put them there and have tried everything to get them off. (I'm probably not supposed to be doing this, but…) for a really good website where you can see this story posted with all of the formatting it's supposed to have (and a HP website that really doesn't suck in the least) go to www.sugarquill.com. Thanks! Enjoy! Review!!!
Part 11-
Alan slept peacefully in his soft down duvet, the outside world blissfully blocked by the Ravenclaw Blue velvet drapes cascading over his four-poster bed. He stumbled through a pleasant dream, lifted by perfumed clouds of many different colors, caught by one as another vaporized beneath him. Voices floated through his peaceful little world, softly beckoning him like the Sirens' call. Bewitched, he felt himself flying without the aid of broomstick or cloud, wafting through the breeze like a lighthearted feather toward the enchantresses' voices. The calls became louder, more seductive as he stumbled closer. They filled every one of his senses, pricking every nerve ending with anticipation.
At last he came to the entrance of a glittering cave, from which the voices seemed to be flowing. A soft golden glow emanated from the entrance. Alan felt himself flailing his limbs, struggling against the soft current of air, trying his hardest to get to the entrance faster. His heart raced as he drew nearer and nearer, the Sirens' Song filling his entire being. Finally, it was there; it was tangible. His heart leapt as he entered the cave, the golden glow surrounding him and the song pulling him closer in. His heart then plummeted as the atmosphere changed completely, the golden glow becoming a sickly green and the song turning to a deadly shriek of horror. The gentle breeze that had been carrying Alan suddenly disappeared, leaving only stale, frigid air. Alan fell.
He landed awkwardly on the hard ground of the cave, and ignoring the pain, swiveled his head around, trying to find the cause of the ghastly noise. It was then that he perceived his friend, Tem, kneeling on the floor of the cave, surrounded by the pale glow of what could only be the Cruciatus curse. A giant reptilian figure stood over him, taunting him gleefully as his friend writhed in pain. "So, boy," it cackled, "Where are your friends now? Where is the famous Harry Potter to save you? If he was such a hero, or even a friend, he wouldn't have let this happen to you. Don't you find it ironic that you are here, and he is sleeping blissfully unaware, and not caring that anything is happening to you? But don't you worry, boy; I'll kill him as soon as I have finished with you. Avada Kedavara!"
There was nothing he could do; try as he might, Alan couldn't will his body to move. He felt a scream rise up in his throat, and heard over his friend's horrified shrieks his own voice calling Tem's name.
The green light disappeared, and Alan woke up, covered in sweat. He realized it was just a dream. And then he realized that that didn't necessarily mean anything. Alan threw aside his covers and leapt out of bed, tripping on his drapes along the way.
Vaguely, he registered the fact that the sun was high in the sky, the birds were chirruping, and a pure, fresh layer of snow had fallen overnight, leaving the world looking crisp and new. Oh, how cruel nature was. The rest of the first years were gathered around Tem's bed, and for the first time, Alan realized that the screaming hadn't stopped with his dream. A short, red-headed boy, Oakley, had pulled back the curtain to Tem's bed, and Alan saw his friend struggling against an unseen force, his face contorted in pain, that sickening green light surrounding him. All Alan could feel was panic and anger towards his dorm mates. He turned to Kevin, a tall sandy-haired boy who was standing dumbly by, not doing anything but staring, and said through gritted teeth, "Go and get Dumbledore. Go as fast as you can, and don't let anybody, even Filch, stop you. You hear me?" Kevin nodded, his eyes wide and fearful that something more than he might have guessed was going on. Without another word, he bolted out of the room as if a Hungarian Horntail was after him. The rest of the boys looked fearfully at Alan as he shouted, "Give him room! Stand back! Let me in!"
They scrambled hastily away as Alan came bounding through and leapt to his friend's bedside. He grabbed Tem's shoulders and tried to shake him awake. Alan was horrified to feel the heat pervading Tem's skin; it burned his hands, but he refused to let go. "Tem!" he shouted. "Tem! Fight him! Don't let him win! Fight him! Wake UP!!!" Tem's back arched as a shock wave of pain struck him and the green light intensified. His body gave a violent shudder, and then lay sickeningly still, the strangled cry dying from his lips.
Alan desperately shook his friend, trying to wake him, screaming his name while the other first years stood dumbly by. He wasn't breathing. Alan checked Tem's pulse. If there was one, he couldn't feel it. It was then that Alyssa and Fay burst into the room, hastily adorned bathrobes draped over their shoulders. Alan could see the horror and dread that crept over their faces as they looked at Tem's deathly still body, but he refused to give up. His mind flickered back to Charms class, to a spell they had used to wake an unconscious person. Quickly, he dove for his wand and shaking, pointed it at Tem and concentrated his entire being on that one spell. "Ennervate!" he yelled, and a bright white beam shot from his wand. Tem's body arched slightly as the pure white light encased and overtook what was left of the green tinge, and then he lay still again.
For one excruciating moment, nothing happened. Then, slowly, Tem's eyes opened groggily; first one, then the other. His face was shockingly pale, and his lips were an unearthly shade of purple. He looked…dead. But he wasn't. Relief broke over Alan like a wave.
Tem drew in a shaky breath, rolled over, and retched over the side of the bed. The girls laughed out loud with relief. Alan looked over at Alyssa, who had a huge grin on her face, despite the fact that the tears were running freely. He walked over and hugged her, murmuring that everything would be all right.
Dumbledore entered then at a run, blue robes swishing behind him. Kevin followed. "Is he all right?" were the first words out of the headmaster's mouth. The three standing by the bed nodded mutely, and parted ways so that the older wizard could get in to see Tem. By then, Tem's breathing was mostly normal, if still a bit panicked, and he was looking around in confusion at his surroundings. Alan looked at him again, over the headmaster's shoulder. He realized now how bloodshot, almost demonic-looking, Tem's eyes were; it looked as if every blood vessel in them had burst. These bore a stark contrast to Tem's deathly pale skin and dark brown hair. The next thing Alan noticed was the quiver in his purple lips. It was an altogether startling appearance, and he had to wonder if his friend would ever be the same again.
The trio watched as Dumbledore placed his hand on Tem's forehead and whispered a spell: "Relaxo Evigilo". Tem's entire body visibly relaxed, though he looked a little more alert and less shaken. The headmaster sighed wearily, and calmly ordered all of the first years out of the room with the exception of Alan. At the girls' disappointed looks, he promised that they would be kept fully up to date on all that was happening. Alan watched as they reluctantly left the room.
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Fay and Alyssa wandered into the common room with the rest of the first year boys. Several of the students from other years who had come to witness the spectacle had drifted back to their dorms to get ready for classes, but the boys were locked out of their dorm, so they sat by the roaring fire and frantically discussed the morning's events. The girls simply opted not to return to their dorms, where the other girls would just pelt them with questions. Alyssa and Fay had limited who and what they talked about in their dorm room when they found out that most of the rumors spread about Tem and Harry had stemmed from the other girls' eavesdropping. Instead, they situated themselves in their usual secluded corner, Alyssa curled up in her favorite beat-up green beanbag, and Fay in an old, ratty, overstuffed chair, body twisted with her legs dangling over the arm. Neither said anything; both studied their laps with fervor never before experienced.
When they looked up at each other, both had tears in their eyes. And then they burst out laughing. Hard. "He almost died!" Fay said between gasps, the tears running freely down her face. Alyssa snorted with laughter. "I think he did." They laughed harder. They sobbed harder. "In fact," she continued, "If it weren't for Alan, we'd all be dead! You-know-who would have killed us all!" The laughter and sobs wracked their bodies. They clutched their sides to keep from bursting. Tears of relief, joy, sorrow, depression, frustration, confusion, and anger mixed and mingled together until neither of the girls could tell them apart. When they couldn't laugh or cry any longer, both just sat in silence, the occasional tear or giggle slipping out.
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Professor Dumbledore was worried. More worried than he had been in many, many years. As he watched the two frightened boys from beneath his long, snowy eyebrows, he could not help but doubt the strength of their cause. Just that morning, right before Kevin had burst into his office, the distraught headmaster had received two owls. One was from the new Minister of Magic, Arthur Weasley. When Minister Fudge had died, the government was in chaos and, not at all surprisingly, Arthur stepped naturally into the leadership role. The result was a much more stable and accepting Ministry, willing to work with Dumbledore. All of the bad seeds, namely the people that Harry had named at the end of the tournament last year, had been ousted and gone back to their evil leader, failed as spies. Many of them were reported dead soon after.
Arthur's letter contained the sad and discouraging news that some radical leaders among the giants had coerced the rest of their race into breaking the treaty that Hagrid and Madam Maxime had worked so hard for. Group by group, they were going over to the Dark Side. The other was from Sirius Black, regretfully explaining the untimely death of Mundungus Fletcher, fellow Auror and spy against the Dark Side. He had died with the Dark Mark hovering over his body.
News in the Daily Prophet of late had also been less than encouraging. The Dark Mark had been spotted a great deal lately. Every day there was news of Dark activity building. Though the students were not aware, extra protection had been put up around the castle, and several Aurors were always on duty around the grounds, but it didn't seem like it would be long before Hogwarts was no longer completely safe.
Dumbledore sighed. And now there was this. The safety of the Magical World once again rested on the shoulders of a single unfortunate boy. One who had almost been killed the night before. "Please, Tem," he begged once again, "Please. I need you to tell me what happened. I need to know so that I can help you." The boy simply curled further into the fetal position and shook his head against the pillow. The headmaster sighed again. "Tem, I know this is difficult for you, but we've been through this before. You will feel better once you talk about it, and you will help us to understand what we need to do."
There was a long silence during which Tem closed his eyes. Dumbledore was beginning to think he had gone to sleep when the boy finally spoke.
"…There was a cave," he began hesitantly, his voice trembling. "I don't know how we got there. It started out like…like it always does…the cabin, the knife, the baby, Hagrid. But this time, it was different." He opened his tear-filled eyes to meet Dumbledore's. "I did it, professor. I did it. I controlled the dream. I grabbed the knife from Hagrid before he could kill the baby, and…and then I thought it was going to be all right…that it would end. But then…then…" he broke off and cast his eyes down, a small sob escaping his lips. "Then, I used the scimitar. I don't know how. But I was in His mind. Oh, gods…the hate…the hate…it was too much. It wasn't long before he felt me there, and then he had me. There was nothing I could do. And then…and then we were in this cave. And…and I lost control. I tried to fight, I really did, but nothing would work against him. And then he cast a spell…and it hurt so, so bad. And he laughed. He just laughed." Tem broke off, tears streaming into his pillow.
If it was possible, Dumbledore's face became even graver. "Tem," he spoke quietly, placing a reassuring hand on the young boy's shoulder. "I'm very sorry that you had to go through that. Voldemort is an extremely powerful foe, and like Harry, you did better than most simply by coming out alive. You cannot be angry with yourself for not defeating him this time. You will have to keep training and reliably use the sleeping potion. No skipping nights. Your rest right now is imperative. I know it will be difficult, and maybe very painful, but I hope that you can tap into this experience and use it in your training."
Tem nodded with trepidation, his head movement almost imperceptible against the pillow. "What about Christmas?" he asked, his voice hoarse from crying. "My mum wants me to come home for the holiday, and I've tried to talk her out of it, but she insists. I have to keep training here."
"I will take care of your mother," Dumbledore said gently. "Now get some rest. Mr. Llorac, if you could join me in the hallway for a moment please." The headmaster stood up and strode purposefully towards the door. Alan jumped up and ran after him. Tem didn't make any sign that he noticed this going on at all.
As they reached the entrance to the common room, Alan stopped the headmaster. Dumbledore looked at him meaningfully, as if he had been waiting for the boy to say something. "Professor, I had a dream too." Dumbledore's eyes widened slightly, though he smiled softly, as if to acknowledge that he had already suspected it. "I dreamt that I was having my own dream…I mean, I was having my own dream, when somehow, I think I floated into Tem's dream. I saw the cave and You-Know-Who and Tem and heard what they were saying and saw You-Know-Who put the Cruciatus curse on him and gods, it was terrible. And I thought that it was just my own dream, but when I woke up, Tem was screaming and everybody was standing around staring, and nobody would help him." The thought seemed to enrage Alan, and he spoke more and more forcefully. He paced up and down the hall, gesturing wildly as he tried to drive his point home. Alan looked not unlike Mr. Weasley during one of his rants. "Not a single stupid prat in our dorm would help him. They just stood there gaping like fish and he almost died. Why are people so stupid? Can't they tell when somebody is in pain? Gods, Ravenclaw is supposed to be the smart house! Do they just not care about anything but themselves?" Alan's rage peaked. "I am so sick of this house! I'm so sick of these people's whispers and giggles every time Tem or Alyssa or Fay enters a room just because we have something to do with the scary floating dreams. Tem is an outcast because he is better than everybody at Defense Against the Dark Arts. We're outcasts because we're his friends. Do they not teach acceptance in any of those books those gits read? I just want it all to be over with! I just want everything back to the way it could have been if none of us had ever met Harry Potter!" Alan looked wearily at Dumbledore and seemed to deflate. "I'm sorry," he said, much more calmly this time. "I'm sorry. I'm just so tired. Tired of everything." He slumped down to the floor, leaning against the wall and resting his head on his knees in a semi-fetal position.
The old man sat down next to him, surprisingly limber for his age. He put his hand on the young boy's shoulder and sat there, head bowed, as if this action in itself could solve all the world's problems. "You've had a terrible morning," he said at length. "You have witnessed a terrible event, waking up to find that it was real. As it is, I think that you are the only one besides Tem who understands the gravity of this situation; I am sorry that you have to, just as I am sorry that Tem has to. You performed under great pressure a spell that I have never seen performed with that strength; I believe that it has never been utilized to bring back the dead. There is no reason that you shouldn't be tired, or frustrated, or angry. You did what was right, and you are a hero for it. Even better, you are a true friend." Dumbledore sighed, stood, and helped Alan up as well. "Tem must go to the hospital wing now, and you yourself need some rest. I will excuse you from classes for the rest of the day, and you can go up with him. But you must let him rest; he must be up and ready to train again as soon as possible. Only then will this nightmare ever be able to stop." Alan nodded, and they headed back together to take Tem to the hospital wing.
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Tem lay in the hospital wing brooding. He pretended to be asleep for most of the day, ignoring everyone who came to visit, ignoring the fact that nobody noticed that he wasn't even on the sleeping potion. The dream just kept coming back to him, and as much as he wished he could ignore it, as much as he tried to push the ridiculous thoughts out of his head, Voldemort's words kept coming back to him. "Where are your friends now? Where is the famous Harry Potter to save you? If he was such a hero, or even a friend, he wouldn't have let this happen to you. Don't you find it ironic that you are here, and he is sleeping blissfully unaware, and not caring that anything is happening to you…"
Tem couldn't help it. He just kept envisioning Harry in his common room by the roaring fire, laughing heartily as he lost at wizarding chess to a certain redheaded witch that he had been sweet on lately. And there, there were Ron and Hermione, curled up together in the same chair reading out of a book and getting into little loving squabbles as the evening wore on, and none of them, not one of them, had any clue about what was going on inside of his head, of the pain and suffering that he was going through. And none of them cared. They weren't his friends. It was Harry's fault that he was in here in the first place. Harry should be suffering while he played chess; Harry should be the one afraid to sleep at night while he enjoyed the comfort of a bed that far surpassed that of his at home; Harry should be the one fighting for his life while he got his first girlfriend, but no. No, it wasn't that way. It was all Harry's fault…