A/N – Here you go guys – sorry it's a bit late, but Mum wouldn't let me on. Enjoy!
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Disclaimer – Do you know how long it is since I've done one of these? *sweatdrops* I don't own HP, all belongs to JK Rowling.
Chapter Nineteen
"Ron! Ron, wake up!" Harry shook the sleeping boy, and was rewarded with a solid whack around the head.
"Go 'way," Ron mumbled, flailing his arms about vaguely.
Harry sighed. "Ron, Hermione wants to talk to you."
Ron shot up. "Wazzat?"
Harry laughed. "I just said that its time for breakfast, that's all."
Ron glared at him suspiciously, before getting out of bed and rummaging around in his trunk for some clothes.
"What day is it?" He asked as he pulled a new robe over his head.
"Sunday, isn't it?"
Yeah, that's it."
An Idea belted Harry around the back of the head. "Ow! You know, we never did end up visiting Hagrid."
"Yeah, I know. Why did you say 'ow'?"
"An Idea belted me around the head," Harry replied.
"Oh. Neville really screwed up that potion, didn't he?"
"Yeah, he did. You think we should go see him today?"
"Who? Neville? He's sleeping just over there if you have that big an urge to go and see him, Harry."
"Not Neville, Hagrid."
"Oh. Yeah, that might be an idea. We can take our faeries down too."
"Right. You go down and wait for Hermione, Ron. I need to get dressed," Harry said.
Ron nodded and headed out, his flame-coloured faerie – aptly named 'Flame' – following him. Harry quickly pulled on his clothes and picked up Sebastian.
"Where's Echolalia?" He asked softly in parselmouth, before glancing in the direction that Sebastian prodded his tail at. She was lying asleep on the windowsill, soaking in the sun. He quickly prodded her awake and headed down to the common room, Sebastian wound around his neck, and Echolalia perched on his head.
"Come on, let's go!" He said, laughing as he ran ahead of Ron and Hermione. They followed quickly, yelling after Harry and telling him to 'slow down, you daft idiot', as Ron so aptly put it.
"Hagrid, open the door!" Ron yelled, banging on the hut's wooden door loudly.
"Ron, be quiet! Hagrid might still be asleep!" Hermione hissed, appalled at Ron's methods.
"Whoozere?" A rough voice questioned sleepily, and the door swung open to reveal Hagrid, resplendent in a blue and white striped nightshirt.
"Nice clothes, Hagrid," Ron grinned, before shouting in pain as Hermione whacked him around the head.
"Sorry about him, Hagrid," she said, glaring at Ron who quailed beneath her fiery gaze. "I'm afraid Ron was up late last night eating some chocolate eclairs that he says Dobby gave to him as an early Christmas gift, and seems to be a little out of it today."
Hagrid grinned, and motioned for them to come inside.
"So, what do you think of Harry being under your custody?" Ron asked him.
"I guess that makes you his Uncle or something, doesn't it?"
Hagrid closed the door. "I didn' think of that. I guess it does, in a way. That is, if Harry doesn' mind."
Harry stared at him. "Why would I mind?"
Hagrid shrugged. "Well, I got expelled, an' because I'm a half giant…"
Harry sighed.
"Look, you're my guardian and guardians are supposed to provide good examples. Moping around isn't what I'd call a good example," He said, shaking his finger at Hagrid sternly. Hagrid grinned at him, before frowning.
"What are you lot doin' down 'ere! I'll bet yeh didn' have breakfas' or anythin'!" Hagrid said, pushing them towards the door.
"Hagrid, we just got here!" Hermione protested.
"You shouldn' 'ave come down 'ere withou' eating! Now go back up to the castle, and get somethin' into yeh!"
With that he shoved them out and closed the door.
"I think he's taking his guardian role a little too seriously," Ron said, glaring at Harry.
"It's not my fault!" He protested, backing away.
"I think it is, Harry. If you hadn't given him that lecture, he might not noticed!" Hermione said, walking towards Harry.
"Um…I'm sorry?" Harry said, before turning and pelting back up towards Hogwarts.
The rest of the day was spent lazily playing chess and gobstones. The sky had turned a deep orange and the clouds were a pale pink. The Weasley twins were sitting in the corner, planning some kind of prank. When Ron asked what they were up to, they shook their heads, grinning.
"You'll find out soon enough, ickle Ronnykins," Fred told him smugly.
"Yeah, and you'll thank us when you do," George added. Harry, who was watching the scene with some amusement, noticed Fred's eyes flicker from Ron to Hermione and back again. Ron sighed and sat back down in the chair he had been previously occupying, muttering about idiotic brothers.
"You aren't playing matchmaker, are you?" Harry asked the twins in a low whisper, after telling Hermione and Ron that he wanted to borrow their chess set.
Fred grinned up at him. "Why, would we do that?" He said, eyes sparkling mischievously .
Harry shook his head, and turned to face Ron and Hermione.
"I'm feeling a bit tired, so I'm going to go to bed, okay?"
"But Harry, it's only seven o'clock!" Ron protested.
Harry yawned. "Sorry, but you two are going to have to come up with something fun to do without me."
Fred snorted, and Harry winked at him as he walked past the two, up to the dorm.
Darkness filled the night, and the only noise to be heard was the deep breathing that can only come through sleep. That, and small whimpers of pain and fear that pervaded the consciousness and forced you to find out what was happening, if only so you can reassure yourself that it was just some child having a nightmare, and all was safe. And it was a child having a nightmare, in a way. If you could call a fifteen year old a child, and if you could call the images that danced through his mind a nightmare. In reality they were far, far worse…
"Please…" a voice begged. "No more…I can't take any more…"
"Then tell me what they're planning," Another voice said, cold and clinical.
"I can't…"
A man with dark brown hair and bright blue eyes that were filled with pain was lying on a steel table, bound by ropes that he was struggling feebly against. Voldemort stood over him, idly twisting the pair of thumbscrews on the man's hands tighter. The man screamed, a high keening noise that seemed to go beyond the edge of human hearing and communicated more pain then should be humanly possible. Voldemort stopped turning the screws after a moment, and watched the man pant and gasp, seemingly amused.
"Tell me."
"I can't…"
The screws were tightened again and the screams began, stopped, and Voldemort spoke.
"Tell me."
"I can't…"
And so it went on…
Harry shot up into a sitting position, gasping and clutching his scar which was weeping blood and a clear liquid.
'Gods,' He thought, horror filling him. Was that what Voldemort was doing? Torturing innocent people? But he had been after something…
"I have to see Dumbledore."
