Disclaimer: JKR is brilliant. she is lovely and wonderful and compared to her I am nothing. read disclaimers from previous chapters
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Harry lay awake, shivering in the middle of the night, gently rubbing the scar that had woken him up. Or had that been the dream? He couldn't be sure.
He felt strange. It wasn't a sensation, but an emotion. An odd, desperate, lost sort of feeling. He only knew what he was planning to do. How he would possibly go about it, he wasn't sure.
He wanted Ron and Hermione to understand how he was feeling, and what was going on, without actually letting them know. He was afraid of hurting them, and therefore was afraid of letting them know any particulars. He wanted them to stop trying to save him.
Harry reached under his mattress and pulled out the knife that was so precious to him. I wonder how much it would hurt? he thought as he ran his thumb over the dull edge. It really wouldn't be too difficult to hide.
Decision made, he raised his left wrist and gently cut the inner side.
"Hello, Ron," said Harry that morning, almost cheerfully, carefully and discreetly tugging down the left sleeve of his robes.
"Good morning, Harry," Ron said, inwardly sighing with relief as he always did when his cheering charms worked on Harry. Today could be a calm, ordinary day, like they used to be, if it were kept up.
"Hello, Hermione," Harry said, greeting her in the common room.
"Good morning, Harry!" she said, smiling appreciatively at Ron when Harry wasn't looking.
*Blimey, he's like a different person when he's Charmed,* Ron thought. *Or rather, when he's not. Wish I knew what was up with him.* Meanwhile, Hermione was thinking the same thing. She looked over to Ron and they had a silent arguement with their eyes.
*We should talk to him. When he's like this.*
*No! Do we have to?*
**Yes.**
*Oh, come on. Please?*
*We have to talk to him sometime.*
*Fine!*
"Tonight," Hermione whispered to Ron.
That evening, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were alone together in an empty classroom, sitting around uncomforatbly.
*This is ridiculous,* Hermione thought. *He's our *friend,* we should feel okay about talking to him.*
"Er... Harry? What's been up with you lately? You haven't been talking to us at all." She cringed inwardly at her bluntness, but knew the cheering charm would do it's job. Harry shrugged.
*Of course he has to make it more difficult than it already is,* Ron thought, scowling to himself.
"Harry, answer us," he said.
"I'm trying," Harry said quietly. The room was filled with chilly silence for a few minutes.
"You know Voldemort's come back," he said slowly. "And that I can feel it, in my scar." He rubbed his scar absent-mindedly. "And see him, in my dreams." Oh, this is so hard! "And I see what he does to people." He stopped for several moments, then shook his head forcefully as though trying to shake a thought from it. Ron and Hermione didn't interrupt. Where to continue? "When I don't see that, I'm dreaming other things. About after the third task." He shivered. Swallowing, he continued. "Cedric, Wormtail, Voldemort, the Death Eaters, the wands..." He had to stop again. It was all flooding back to him so forcefully, he had to close his eyes. Hermione put an arm around him reassuringly, and he shook the memories from his head. Where to continue? They must understand. After several painful moments, Harry continued speaking. "Voldemort's got my blood. It brought him back," he said in a whisper. "And what he did to Cedric was because of me. He shouldn't have been there. And to Colin... because he thought he was my friend. All those people... if it wasn't for me..."
"Harry, he would have come back some other way," Hermione said pleadingly. She and Ron could both tell Harry was in a bad place. Harry shook his head slowly.
"But he didn't. It was me. He wanted my blood. To make him stronger. All those people..." Hermione and Ron felt chills run down their spines.
"No, Harry, no, no," Ron pleaded desperately.
"I don't want to hurt you. You know that. So I can't tell you *everything,* but I have to make you understand. Will you?" Now Harry was pleading.
"No, Harry..." Hermione said, shaking her head sadly.
"Please don't hate me," Harry said.
"We'd never hate you, Harry!" Hermione said. "You're our best friend! We love you."
"Then please don't try to stop me?" Harry asked.
"Harry, we'd have to..." said Ron.
"We'd have to..." Hermione echoed.
"I should have known you'd never understand," Harry said sadly. "But I have my reasons, so I'm begging you, *please?*"
"No," Hermione said quietly, looking sadly at her friend.
"I'm sorry," Harry whispered, apologizing in advance for what he planned to do.
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Harry lay awake, shivering in the middle of the night, gently rubbing the scar that had woken him up. Or had that been the dream? He couldn't be sure.
He felt strange. It wasn't a sensation, but an emotion. An odd, desperate, lost sort of feeling. He only knew what he was planning to do. How he would possibly go about it, he wasn't sure.
He wanted Ron and Hermione to understand how he was feeling, and what was going on, without actually letting them know. He was afraid of hurting them, and therefore was afraid of letting them know any particulars. He wanted them to stop trying to save him.
Harry reached under his mattress and pulled out the knife that was so precious to him. I wonder how much it would hurt? he thought as he ran his thumb over the dull edge. It really wouldn't be too difficult to hide.
Decision made, he raised his left wrist and gently cut the inner side.
"Hello, Ron," said Harry that morning, almost cheerfully, carefully and discreetly tugging down the left sleeve of his robes.
"Good morning, Harry," Ron said, inwardly sighing with relief as he always did when his cheering charms worked on Harry. Today could be a calm, ordinary day, like they used to be, if it were kept up.
"Hello, Hermione," Harry said, greeting her in the common room.
"Good morning, Harry!" she said, smiling appreciatively at Ron when Harry wasn't looking.
*Blimey, he's like a different person when he's Charmed,* Ron thought. *Or rather, when he's not. Wish I knew what was up with him.* Meanwhile, Hermione was thinking the same thing. She looked over to Ron and they had a silent arguement with their eyes.
*We should talk to him. When he's like this.*
*No! Do we have to?*
**Yes.**
*Oh, come on. Please?*
*We have to talk to him sometime.*
*Fine!*
"Tonight," Hermione whispered to Ron.
That evening, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were alone together in an empty classroom, sitting around uncomforatbly.
*This is ridiculous,* Hermione thought. *He's our *friend,* we should feel okay about talking to him.*
"Er... Harry? What's been up with you lately? You haven't been talking to us at all." She cringed inwardly at her bluntness, but knew the cheering charm would do it's job. Harry shrugged.
*Of course he has to make it more difficult than it already is,* Ron thought, scowling to himself.
"Harry, answer us," he said.
"I'm trying," Harry said quietly. The room was filled with chilly silence for a few minutes.
"You know Voldemort's come back," he said slowly. "And that I can feel it, in my scar." He rubbed his scar absent-mindedly. "And see him, in my dreams." Oh, this is so hard! "And I see what he does to people." He stopped for several moments, then shook his head forcefully as though trying to shake a thought from it. Ron and Hermione didn't interrupt. Where to continue? "When I don't see that, I'm dreaming other things. About after the third task." He shivered. Swallowing, he continued. "Cedric, Wormtail, Voldemort, the Death Eaters, the wands..." He had to stop again. It was all flooding back to him so forcefully, he had to close his eyes. Hermione put an arm around him reassuringly, and he shook the memories from his head. Where to continue? They must understand. After several painful moments, Harry continued speaking. "Voldemort's got my blood. It brought him back," he said in a whisper. "And what he did to Cedric was because of me. He shouldn't have been there. And to Colin... because he thought he was my friend. All those people... if it wasn't for me..."
"Harry, he would have come back some other way," Hermione said pleadingly. She and Ron could both tell Harry was in a bad place. Harry shook his head slowly.
"But he didn't. It was me. He wanted my blood. To make him stronger. All those people..." Hermione and Ron felt chills run down their spines.
"No, Harry, no, no," Ron pleaded desperately.
"I don't want to hurt you. You know that. So I can't tell you *everything,* but I have to make you understand. Will you?" Now Harry was pleading.
"No, Harry..." Hermione said, shaking her head sadly.
"Please don't hate me," Harry said.
"We'd never hate you, Harry!" Hermione said. "You're our best friend! We love you."
"Then please don't try to stop me?" Harry asked.
"Harry, we'd have to..." said Ron.
"We'd have to..." Hermione echoed.
"I should have known you'd never understand," Harry said sadly. "But I have my reasons, so I'm begging you, *please?*"
"No," Hermione said quietly, looking sadly at her friend.
"I'm sorry," Harry whispered, apologizing in advance for what he planned to do.