CHAPTER 7: REPRESSED FEELINGS
She stormed up the stairs, angry with herself for letting him get that close, and paused only when she was inside the Gryffindor Common room. She sank into a chair, her eyes closed with the effort of keeping the tears back. She glanced to the side, and noticed with a sudden start how close to the fire she was. She quickly fled to a chair further from the fire.
She almost didn't hear Hermione and Ron come into the room, partially because her heart was pounding in her ear and the Common Room was so noisy that it was hard to hear anything. Someone touched her shoulder, and she looked up, hoping it was his green eyes she would look into...
Brown. Regular ordinary brown...
"Are you okay?" The brown-haired, brown-eyed girl asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine," she replied smoothly. Act like nothing is wrong...
Hermione narrowed her eyes, but nodded and backed away slightly. "What classes are you taking? Ron, Harry and I have Transfiguration first tomorrow, you're probably with us."
"I don't think so... Where do I get my schedule?" Erif stood and shook her mane of bright red hair out, wrinkling her nose as a nasty smell wafted around the Common Room. Hermione's nose crinkled too, but she smiled as Ron came up beside them.
"That's the twins, making mischief," Ron commented softly, his eyes making Arlé suddenly conscious about her appearance. "I think they're going to outdo themselves this year, I really do."
She looked around at Fred and George across the Room, who by the looks on their faces could have just won the Quidditch World Cup, and noticed that there was a faint smoke coming from behind them. Their smiles took on a slightly mischievous glint as they realized that she was watching them. They waved and winked at Ron, who was trying to hide the fact that he actually did like her. Erif sighed and turned back to Hermione.
"I think your schedule is up on your bed. Come on, I'll show you around the place." Hermione grabbed her arm and before Erif or Ron could protest, they were up the stairs. "Wow, you're warm," Hermione commented softly, looking at Erif's arm in the dim light before the door to their dormitory.
Erif glanced down and in panic noticed that the symbol was appearing faintly again, betraying her secret for all to see... Could Hermione see it?
But she had just taken the potion before she went to the Feast! What had Dumbledore said about it...?
"Arlé," he said, pushing his spectacles up his long nose as he looked down at her through them, "You have a very difficult life ahead of you. People will mock you because of your mark, and your circumstances will lead you to difficult decisions. Under no circumstances must this get around school, or Voldemort will find out and hunt you down. If any are to find out, you must contact me immediately..." He trailed off, his blue eyes telling her that this was no game.
"I won't lie to them," Erif replied, fingering her mark absently. "And it's Erif now..."
"It should not be seen," Dumbledore said suddenly, a frown creasing his brow in concentration as he glanced down at her mark. "I wonder why it shows so clearly... But we must find a potion for you to take, to hide it until the time comes to use it."
"I cannot control it..." She replied, and he sighed.
"You will learn, and I, Professor Snape, or Professor Bailey will teach you how..."
But when?
"I'm just feeling... stuffy," she said to Hermione, which was partially the truth. It was raining outside, and the rain always put a damper on her spirits. Snow was even more horrendous that rain, especially when it stuck and slushed... Perhaps her mark was coming back, but she would fight it as best she could and go see Dumbledore about it in the morning.
Hermione led her into the room, and she instantly fell in love with it; the drapes around the beds gave a sense of privacy, while the couch by the window lent a homey feeling to the entire place. The shade of red that accented the entire room was actually the Gryffindor house color, cleverly disguised in vivid patterns of varying shades of scarlet and magenta.
She slumped onto her bed, smiling to herself at memories. If Jeremie could see me now... She closed her eyes as she imagined her younger brother, who had never fully believed that they would ever get a chance to go to Hogwarts. But their parents had promised that they could go to study for the O.W.L.s in their fifth year, and Jeremie was only in his third...
"So, I see you're taking all of Harry and Ron's classes, with only a minor deviation from one of them," Hermione commented, looking at the paper as Erif sat up.
"Yeah," sighed Erif regretfully. "I've never been very good with transfiguration, so they backed me up a year or two. But I really don't want to move on with Divination." To tell the truth, most divinatory objects mostly showed fire in their depths when she looked within them, perhaps a representation of the Reed family traits...
Hermione handed the papers over, and looked at her, something brooding in her brown eyes. "I was never interested in Divination. Maybe you can talk to Professor McGonagall, and she could change your schedule. You could take Muggle Studies or Arithmancy with me instead."
"Okay, I think I will ask her," Erif replied, looking down at the paper without really seeing it.
"Well, you've got a free period tomorrow, you can come down in the morning after she's done with our class." Hermione reached over to her chest and grabbed her folded paper off of it. "Oh, look," she said with disappointment, "We've got Snape after Transfiguration."
"Is he a bad teacher?"
"He plays favorites--or should I say that he hates us Gryffindors in general and Harry, Ron and I specifically, and that he likes the Slytherins..." Hermione narrowed her eyes at that thought. "And Malfoy especially, although I can't imagine why anyone would like that jerk."
"Who's he?" Erif asked, although she had a suspicion that she knew who he was.
"You'll meet him soon enough, because he's got a knack for picking on us. If you stay around us, you're likely to become the brunt of his jokes for a while."
Erif nodded, and said, "It's okay, I can handle him."
Hermione smiled and replied, "Yeah, we've mostly decided to ignore him. You'll learn why soon enough. Really, he's not as smart as Snape makes him out to be."
Erif nodded, and rubbed her arm again self-consciously. With a hidden glance downward, she saw that there was only the faintest amount of design again, that no one would see what it was unless they were looking for it. Erif knew that Hermione had already made a connection about her mark. It was just a matter of time before she would confront her about it, and all hell would break loose if they were in a public place when it came...
Erif would have to make it on her own time.
* * *
Harry stepped into Dumbledore's office, blinking in the dim light and barely acknowledging Professor McGonagall's hushed, "Sit down, Potter, he'll be in here shortly."
Harry sank into a seat opposing Professor Dumbledore's desk and glanced around. Fawkes was looking a little on the fragile side, and Harry guessed that he would be reaching his Burning Day soon. But the phoenix lifted his eyes and floated over to him, a soft song echoing from him as his claws wrapped around Harry's extended arm. He blinked slowly, and Harry ran his fingers through his soft feathers.
They sat there for several long moments, and Harry found himself blinking back tears from the memory of his last visit to Dumbledore's office...
The Dursleys had not wanted to hear about his summer, nor about his friends and about his studies... They had basically shunted him, and he in turn had to shunt his feelings about what had happened during the previous year. Even his attempts at explaining it to Hermione and Ron had fallen short where his emotions were concerned, and although he couldn't remember any of the week or two that had followed the final Task, the events during the task shone clear in his mind.
And now the events of Arlé's brother's death... Harry wanted fervently to speak to Dumbledore about this, to try and understand why this was happening to him. Would it happen again, or was it merely a one time happenstance?
He jumped a little when the door creaked open, and Fawkes lifted his head from Harry's shoulder to look at who was entering. It was Professor Dumbledore, who was looking just as old and wise as ever. He set a long hand on Harry's shoulder as he walked past him toward the desk, comforting Harry with its weight. He sat down and Fawkes floated towards him, landing on the desk and humming softly. He looked at his pet, a smile brushing his lips as if something funny had just occurred to him.
"Harry," Dumbledore acknowledged finally, looking from the phoenix to Harry. "Thank you for sending me that letter."
"Professor, it was Arlé that was in my dream!" He exclaimed, wanting answers. "How did she survive?"
He smiled at this and said, "Erif will tell you in time how, if you ask. But I cannot say at this time." His face turned grave again as he continued, "But I did not call you up here to discuss your dream, although I am thankful you were so prompt with explaining it and sending the message to me.
"We need to discuss your godfather. When I sent him on his mission, he knew it was a dangerous one, and was ready to suffer the consequences if he were caught. Unfortunately, he was caught--" Harry interrupted him with a gasp, but Dumbledore held up his hand and continued, "And I sent our Professor Bailey to rescue him. She did, don't worry, but he was delirious when she had reached him."
"Is he okay?" Harry asked, his green eyes narrowed with concern.
Dumbledore raised his eyes and said, "We sent him to Lupin's house, so Lupin and several others of the old crowd could watch over him. He's recovering nicely, and while I cannot visit without arising suspicion, Summer has been down there several times, and she returned with good words."
"But..." Harry trailed off when he realized that even if she did have the Dark Mark, Dumbledore probably knew it. Perhaps she was like Snape, a confessed double agent...
Or perhaps not.
"When can I see him?" He asked instead.
Dumbledore nodded, and said, "I thought you would ask something like that. I would say right now, but circumstances being how they are, I cannot allow you to leave the vicinity of Hogwarts until we can be sure you will be protected from Voldemort."
"Can he come here?"
"Not until Lupin and Bailey declare him stable enough to make the long journey." Dumbledore stood and placed his hands on the desk, looking at Harry solemnly. "He has been through a terrible ordeal. The Death Eaters were not merciful on him, especially after discovering that he had revealed Wormtail for a Death Eater. He will be changed..."
"Can I write him a letter?" Asked Harry hopefully.
"Well, yes, but I'm not sure if he'd be in any condition to read it," the wizard responded softly.
"I don't understand," Harry began. "What did they do to him?"
"Every curse imaginable," Dumbledore admitted slowly. "What little Summer saw of their interrogation was horrible as she described it to me. I can hardly think how it would have looked if I had been there."
Harry shook his head, looking down. "Why is everything that Voldemort does such a personal insult? What does he have against me?"
"You were his demise; never forget that. Even though your mother died for you, the love surrounding you had reduced him to an almost harmless state. If you were able to actually use some of that energy to protect your friends and destroy him, you could very well destroy him. Otherwise, he would have come after your friends and lured you to him over the summer, and we would not be meeting at Hogwarts for school ever again.
"But your friends are safe here, and safe anywhere else. They are actually safer than others within this school, if it comes to certain desperate measures. Just something to think about, Harry," Dumbledore advised.
"You're sure they're safe?"
"I have studied Voldemort's ways and reasoning from when he was still considered Tom Riddle. I can be reasonably sure that they are safe."
"Good," responded Harry, feeling better about Hermione and Ron's friendship than he'd felt in months. And feeling a lot better about a certain someone who had captured his heart...
He went back to the Gryffindor Tower feeling a great deal happier, but he was still distraught about Sirius. He was half expecting to see Hermione, Ron and Arlé waiting for him, but only Ron had stayed up for him.
"Hey, Harry, want to play a game of exploding snap?" Ron asked as he approached.
"No, thanks. Where did Hermione and Erif go?"
"Up to their dormitory," Ron sighed between a yawn. "If only we didn't have Potions tomorrow, I could go to sleep without thinking that it's my last night alive."
Harry looked at Ron's schedule. "Oh, it's even Double Potions with Slytherin! Why do we get put with them every year?"
"They must think it's a laugh. You're sure you don't want to play?"
"Yeah, I'm sure. I'm going up to bed, I'll see you later."
"Hey, wait up, I'm coming!" Ron said and followed him up to bed.
She stormed up the stairs, angry with herself for letting him get that close, and paused only when she was inside the Gryffindor Common room. She sank into a chair, her eyes closed with the effort of keeping the tears back. She glanced to the side, and noticed with a sudden start how close to the fire she was. She quickly fled to a chair further from the fire.
She almost didn't hear Hermione and Ron come into the room, partially because her heart was pounding in her ear and the Common Room was so noisy that it was hard to hear anything. Someone touched her shoulder, and she looked up, hoping it was his green eyes she would look into...
Brown. Regular ordinary brown...
"Are you okay?" The brown-haired, brown-eyed girl asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine," she replied smoothly. Act like nothing is wrong...
Hermione narrowed her eyes, but nodded and backed away slightly. "What classes are you taking? Ron, Harry and I have Transfiguration first tomorrow, you're probably with us."
"I don't think so... Where do I get my schedule?" Erif stood and shook her mane of bright red hair out, wrinkling her nose as a nasty smell wafted around the Common Room. Hermione's nose crinkled too, but she smiled as Ron came up beside them.
"That's the twins, making mischief," Ron commented softly, his eyes making Arlé suddenly conscious about her appearance. "I think they're going to outdo themselves this year, I really do."
She looked around at Fred and George across the Room, who by the looks on their faces could have just won the Quidditch World Cup, and noticed that there was a faint smoke coming from behind them. Their smiles took on a slightly mischievous glint as they realized that she was watching them. They waved and winked at Ron, who was trying to hide the fact that he actually did like her. Erif sighed and turned back to Hermione.
"I think your schedule is up on your bed. Come on, I'll show you around the place." Hermione grabbed her arm and before Erif or Ron could protest, they were up the stairs. "Wow, you're warm," Hermione commented softly, looking at Erif's arm in the dim light before the door to their dormitory.
Erif glanced down and in panic noticed that the symbol was appearing faintly again, betraying her secret for all to see... Could Hermione see it?
But she had just taken the potion before she went to the Feast! What had Dumbledore said about it...?
"Arlé," he said, pushing his spectacles up his long nose as he looked down at her through them, "You have a very difficult life ahead of you. People will mock you because of your mark, and your circumstances will lead you to difficult decisions. Under no circumstances must this get around school, or Voldemort will find out and hunt you down. If any are to find out, you must contact me immediately..." He trailed off, his blue eyes telling her that this was no game.
"I won't lie to them," Erif replied, fingering her mark absently. "And it's Erif now..."
"It should not be seen," Dumbledore said suddenly, a frown creasing his brow in concentration as he glanced down at her mark. "I wonder why it shows so clearly... But we must find a potion for you to take, to hide it until the time comes to use it."
"I cannot control it..." She replied, and he sighed.
"You will learn, and I, Professor Snape, or Professor Bailey will teach you how..."
But when?
"I'm just feeling... stuffy," she said to Hermione, which was partially the truth. It was raining outside, and the rain always put a damper on her spirits. Snow was even more horrendous that rain, especially when it stuck and slushed... Perhaps her mark was coming back, but she would fight it as best she could and go see Dumbledore about it in the morning.
Hermione led her into the room, and she instantly fell in love with it; the drapes around the beds gave a sense of privacy, while the couch by the window lent a homey feeling to the entire place. The shade of red that accented the entire room was actually the Gryffindor house color, cleverly disguised in vivid patterns of varying shades of scarlet and magenta.
She slumped onto her bed, smiling to herself at memories. If Jeremie could see me now... She closed her eyes as she imagined her younger brother, who had never fully believed that they would ever get a chance to go to Hogwarts. But their parents had promised that they could go to study for the O.W.L.s in their fifth year, and Jeremie was only in his third...
"So, I see you're taking all of Harry and Ron's classes, with only a minor deviation from one of them," Hermione commented, looking at the paper as Erif sat up.
"Yeah," sighed Erif regretfully. "I've never been very good with transfiguration, so they backed me up a year or two. But I really don't want to move on with Divination." To tell the truth, most divinatory objects mostly showed fire in their depths when she looked within them, perhaps a representation of the Reed family traits...
Hermione handed the papers over, and looked at her, something brooding in her brown eyes. "I was never interested in Divination. Maybe you can talk to Professor McGonagall, and she could change your schedule. You could take Muggle Studies or Arithmancy with me instead."
"Okay, I think I will ask her," Erif replied, looking down at the paper without really seeing it.
"Well, you've got a free period tomorrow, you can come down in the morning after she's done with our class." Hermione reached over to her chest and grabbed her folded paper off of it. "Oh, look," she said with disappointment, "We've got Snape after Transfiguration."
"Is he a bad teacher?"
"He plays favorites--or should I say that he hates us Gryffindors in general and Harry, Ron and I specifically, and that he likes the Slytherins..." Hermione narrowed her eyes at that thought. "And Malfoy especially, although I can't imagine why anyone would like that jerk."
"Who's he?" Erif asked, although she had a suspicion that she knew who he was.
"You'll meet him soon enough, because he's got a knack for picking on us. If you stay around us, you're likely to become the brunt of his jokes for a while."
Erif nodded, and said, "It's okay, I can handle him."
Hermione smiled and replied, "Yeah, we've mostly decided to ignore him. You'll learn why soon enough. Really, he's not as smart as Snape makes him out to be."
Erif nodded, and rubbed her arm again self-consciously. With a hidden glance downward, she saw that there was only the faintest amount of design again, that no one would see what it was unless they were looking for it. Erif knew that Hermione had already made a connection about her mark. It was just a matter of time before she would confront her about it, and all hell would break loose if they were in a public place when it came...
Erif would have to make it on her own time.
* * *
Harry stepped into Dumbledore's office, blinking in the dim light and barely acknowledging Professor McGonagall's hushed, "Sit down, Potter, he'll be in here shortly."
Harry sank into a seat opposing Professor Dumbledore's desk and glanced around. Fawkes was looking a little on the fragile side, and Harry guessed that he would be reaching his Burning Day soon. But the phoenix lifted his eyes and floated over to him, a soft song echoing from him as his claws wrapped around Harry's extended arm. He blinked slowly, and Harry ran his fingers through his soft feathers.
They sat there for several long moments, and Harry found himself blinking back tears from the memory of his last visit to Dumbledore's office...
The Dursleys had not wanted to hear about his summer, nor about his friends and about his studies... They had basically shunted him, and he in turn had to shunt his feelings about what had happened during the previous year. Even his attempts at explaining it to Hermione and Ron had fallen short where his emotions were concerned, and although he couldn't remember any of the week or two that had followed the final Task, the events during the task shone clear in his mind.
And now the events of Arlé's brother's death... Harry wanted fervently to speak to Dumbledore about this, to try and understand why this was happening to him. Would it happen again, or was it merely a one time happenstance?
He jumped a little when the door creaked open, and Fawkes lifted his head from Harry's shoulder to look at who was entering. It was Professor Dumbledore, who was looking just as old and wise as ever. He set a long hand on Harry's shoulder as he walked past him toward the desk, comforting Harry with its weight. He sat down and Fawkes floated towards him, landing on the desk and humming softly. He looked at his pet, a smile brushing his lips as if something funny had just occurred to him.
"Harry," Dumbledore acknowledged finally, looking from the phoenix to Harry. "Thank you for sending me that letter."
"Professor, it was Arlé that was in my dream!" He exclaimed, wanting answers. "How did she survive?"
He smiled at this and said, "Erif will tell you in time how, if you ask. But I cannot say at this time." His face turned grave again as he continued, "But I did not call you up here to discuss your dream, although I am thankful you were so prompt with explaining it and sending the message to me.
"We need to discuss your godfather. When I sent him on his mission, he knew it was a dangerous one, and was ready to suffer the consequences if he were caught. Unfortunately, he was caught--" Harry interrupted him with a gasp, but Dumbledore held up his hand and continued, "And I sent our Professor Bailey to rescue him. She did, don't worry, but he was delirious when she had reached him."
"Is he okay?" Harry asked, his green eyes narrowed with concern.
Dumbledore raised his eyes and said, "We sent him to Lupin's house, so Lupin and several others of the old crowd could watch over him. He's recovering nicely, and while I cannot visit without arising suspicion, Summer has been down there several times, and she returned with good words."
"But..." Harry trailed off when he realized that even if she did have the Dark Mark, Dumbledore probably knew it. Perhaps she was like Snape, a confessed double agent...
Or perhaps not.
"When can I see him?" He asked instead.
Dumbledore nodded, and said, "I thought you would ask something like that. I would say right now, but circumstances being how they are, I cannot allow you to leave the vicinity of Hogwarts until we can be sure you will be protected from Voldemort."
"Can he come here?"
"Not until Lupin and Bailey declare him stable enough to make the long journey." Dumbledore stood and placed his hands on the desk, looking at Harry solemnly. "He has been through a terrible ordeal. The Death Eaters were not merciful on him, especially after discovering that he had revealed Wormtail for a Death Eater. He will be changed..."
"Can I write him a letter?" Asked Harry hopefully.
"Well, yes, but I'm not sure if he'd be in any condition to read it," the wizard responded softly.
"I don't understand," Harry began. "What did they do to him?"
"Every curse imaginable," Dumbledore admitted slowly. "What little Summer saw of their interrogation was horrible as she described it to me. I can hardly think how it would have looked if I had been there."
Harry shook his head, looking down. "Why is everything that Voldemort does such a personal insult? What does he have against me?"
"You were his demise; never forget that. Even though your mother died for you, the love surrounding you had reduced him to an almost harmless state. If you were able to actually use some of that energy to protect your friends and destroy him, you could very well destroy him. Otherwise, he would have come after your friends and lured you to him over the summer, and we would not be meeting at Hogwarts for school ever again.
"But your friends are safe here, and safe anywhere else. They are actually safer than others within this school, if it comes to certain desperate measures. Just something to think about, Harry," Dumbledore advised.
"You're sure they're safe?"
"I have studied Voldemort's ways and reasoning from when he was still considered Tom Riddle. I can be reasonably sure that they are safe."
"Good," responded Harry, feeling better about Hermione and Ron's friendship than he'd felt in months. And feeling a lot better about a certain someone who had captured his heart...
He went back to the Gryffindor Tower feeling a great deal happier, but he was still distraught about Sirius. He was half expecting to see Hermione, Ron and Arlé waiting for him, but only Ron had stayed up for him.
"Hey, Harry, want to play a game of exploding snap?" Ron asked as he approached.
"No, thanks. Where did Hermione and Erif go?"
"Up to their dormitory," Ron sighed between a yawn. "If only we didn't have Potions tomorrow, I could go to sleep without thinking that it's my last night alive."
Harry looked at Ron's schedule. "Oh, it's even Double Potions with Slytherin! Why do we get put with them every year?"
"They must think it's a laugh. You're sure you don't want to play?"
"Yeah, I'm sure. I'm going up to bed, I'll see you later."
"Hey, wait up, I'm coming!" Ron said and followed him up to bed.