Okay, enough people asked so here it is. You're all going to kill me, but at this point I don't really care. My wrists are sore. The neighbour's cat scratched them when I was taking it back home before our dog got it. It looks like I've had a really bad go at a suicide attempt then got scared and flaked. Suicide by cat…
Chapter Twenty-Five
Harry sighed as he finished buttoning up his robe. Tonight was the night he had to meet Dumbledore, and he was not looking forward to having to lie to Ron and Hermione. He walked slowly down towards the common room, feeling for all the world as if he was heading towards his doom. As he emerged from the staircase, Ron looked up from the chess game he was playing to see him.
"Hey Harry. Where're you going?" He asked, moving one of his pawns to take Hermione's last bishop.
"To the Hospital Wing. I haven't been sleeping well, and I thought that maybe Madam Pompfrey might have something to help me," Harry said.
'It isn't a lie, really,' He told himself. 'You are having trouble sleeping and you will see Madam Pompfrey after you've visited Dumbledore. It's more like withholding information. Not even that really - they didn't ask if I was doing anything before I went.'
Ron grimaced. "I know. I have to sleep in the same dormitory as you, remember?"
Harry paled. "I didn't realise I was waking you, Ron. I'm sorry."
Dean, who had been listening to the conversation, grinned. "Don't worry, Harry. After the first few times we wised up and wrote home for some earplugs."
"What? Since when have you all had earplugs? And why didn't you tell me?" Ron asked Dean, enraged.
"Why Ron, we thought you would have come to the same conclusion as the rest of us," Seamus said mellowly, knocking over the card castle that he had been building. "I mean, even Neville decided to get some after the first few nights."
"Thanks so much for telling me, you two. Real friends you are," Ron said sourly, and swore as his King was checked by Hermione's rook.
"What have you been dreaming about anyway, Harry? It must be pretty bad for you to have that kind of reaction," Ron said as he moved his King away from the offending rook.
Harry shrugged. "I don't really want to go into it."
Ron looked at him sharply. "What? Don't you trust us or something?"
Hermione glanced up. "Yes, Harry. You seem to be withholding something from us. What's wrong?"
Harry gulped. "It doesn't matter."
"Don't bother, Hermione. He obviously doesn't consider us trustworthy enough to tell us what is wrong," Ron said angrily, moving his Queen forward to take Hermione's.
"It's better for you both not to know. You'll only end up getting hurt," Harry said. 'Or worse,' He finished silently.
"So now you're saying that we can't look after ourselves?" Ron demanded.
"No, I ---"
"Always got to be the perfect one, don't you Harry? But in reality you are nothing, and you know it! You're just a scared little boy with an ugly scar on his forehead!" Ron shouted. The rest of the common room fell silent, and turned to watch.
Harry's head was whirling. 'Is that what he really thinks of me? That I'm perfect? If only he knew...'
Ron watched surprise and hurt flicker across Harry's face, before his eyes hardened. Harry seemed to grow above him, and Ron suddenly realised just how much taller Harry was compared to him.
"If that is the way you feel," Harry said coldly, "There is no further use in me being here, is there?"
He whirled and headed towards the portrait of the Fat Lady.
"That's right, run! Just like the scared little boy you are. By the way, I realised something today. It isn't just your father you resemble. You look like Snape as well!" Ron yelled after him. Harry paused just before the opening, and for a moment Ron thought that he was going to turn around and curse him. After a moment Harry's shoulders slumped, however, and he shook his head once before stepping through the portal, his voice floating back to the room.
"Better to look like him then to be forever thought of as a carbon copy of my father."
Ron turned around to find everyone in the room looking at him.
"Well? Was there something?" He snarled, and watched in satisfaction as everyone turned away and went back to what they had been doing. Ron sat down again, to find Hermione looking at him. As soon as his eyes connected with hers she looked back to the chess game, and reached out to move a pawn.
"Checkmate."
Harry strode down the corridor away from the common room, his mind blank. He had found out long ago that it was best not to think about things like the fight until he had calmed down, otherwise it was possible that he might start crying. When he was younger and had to deal with Dudley's gang and the other school bullies he found that it was better to show no weakness than cry, because if you cried they just kept coming back again and again. On the other hand, they tended to beat you longer if you did not cry. He was just about to step out onto a set of stairs when they disappeared. He cursed loudly, and began to take the long way round. After slipping through several damp passages and travelling up several flights of stairs he found himself standing beside the gargoyle that guarded Professor Dumbledore's office.
"Blood pops," He told it, and it began to move aside.
"Certainly a lot of people going in tonight. Is there a meeting?" The gargoyle asked, and huffed when Harry passed by it without replying.
Harry knocked on the door of Dumbledore's office, not wanting to just walk in. Dumbledore opened the door, and smiled.
"Ah, Harry. We've been waiting for you," He said. "I've talked to the other members, and we all agreed that it is best to let you join. Come on inside, and welcome to your first meeting as a member or the Order of the Phoenix."
Harry walked into the room, glancing about at the people there. To his surprise he saw Sirius and Arabella, as well Professors McGonagall, Flitwick and Snape. Snape scowled at him as he stared, and Harry suddenly got the feeling that not all the other members had agreed to let him join after all.
"Now, down to business. Two days ago Harry suffered some rather...ah...disturbing dreams. These were no ordinary dreams, however. Harry has been known to dream of current events concerning Voldemort, and I believe that this particular dream was one of those."
"Was Mundungus in it?" Arabella asked softly. Her eyes were shining with what looked suspiciously like tears, and her voice wavered.
Dumbledore looked at her gravely. "I believe so, Arabella. I'm sorry."
Ms. Figg gave a choked sob, and Remus patted her back gently.
"We need to get him out of there," Sirius said. "Who knows what kind of things they could be doing to him? He could be being tortured, for all we know!"
Harry's mind flashed back to the dream before he could stop himself, and he paled.
"Thumbscrews..." He murmured, looking down.
"What?" Sirius said sharply, turning towards Harry.
"In the dream...Voldemort was there. Mundungus...if that's who it was, was tied to a table. Voldemort was using thumbscrews on him," Harry explained shakily, looking away from Arabella.
"Oh my God," She whispered, a hand coming up to cover her mouth.
"Can you remember anything else from the dream?" Snape asked, eyes flashing.
"The...the air was cold. Smelled of snow. Smell of snakes as well," Harry said, eyes becoming dull. "Floor was...stone. Old. Lots of cracks. Large room, no fire. Light...was a lamp. And a wand. Table...steel. Laughing...screams. Small window...colours flashing in the sky. Smell of blood. Deatheaters..."
"Harry? Stop, it's okay. There's no need..." Arabella said, eyes flashing sharply.
"Taste of metal in the air. Smell of trees. Pine. Snow." Harry's eyes snapped back into focus. "That's all I can remember."
"What was that about colours in the sky?" Snape said. Harry made the connection at the same time.
"The northern lights."
Arabella gaped at them. "What?"
Harry turned to her. "The colours that I saw in the sky...they must have been the northern lights. They must be somewhere near the arctic ocean, most probably in a large country with very severe winters and a lot of space."
"Then they are most probably in Russia," Dumbledore announced. "My contacts haven't informed me of Voldemort shifting position outside of Europe. Thank you for that information Harry, it will make things a lot easier for us to find him."
Harry nodded slightly.
"Did you tell Weasley and Granger about this, Potter?" Snape asked suddenly, voice cold.
"About the meeting or the dream? I didn't tell them about either."
"That's good, Harry. However much I wish they could join the Order of The Phoenix, I rather doubt their families would approve."
"Whereas mine wouldn't care if I died tomorrow," Harry said quietly. Dumbledore looked surprised and slightly worried.
"I didn't --"
Harry cut him off. "I'm sorry, that was callous and rude. Besides, you can't really count the Dursleys as family; the Professors here are more my family than them now."
Dumbledore nodded, though he still looked a little worried.
"I doubt Ron and Hermione would have come anyway, after tonight," Harry said, smiling bleakly.
"What?" Sirius asked sharply, stepping towards Harry.
"It doesn't matter, Sirius. We aren't here to discuss my personal problems."
Sirius grabbed Harry by the shoulders and knelt in front of him. "I am your Godfather, I have a right to know what happened." Harry stared back at him coolly, eyes hard.
"And I am your godson. I have a right to choose whether to tell you or not."
Sirius frowned. "Harry, you will tell me or --"
"Memorius Animatus," Dumbledore's voice calmly cut through the din. The spell hit Harry, and the now familiar beam of light shot out of him, hitting the wall and playing the last few minutes he had spent in the Gryffindor tower. The spell ended quickly, and Harry slumped forward before turning towards Dumbledore, eyes accusing.
"I'm sorry, Harry," He said quietly. "But we need to know what is happening in your life so that we can be assured of your capability."
Harry sighed, and turned away slightly, before nodding.
"I find the problems with the dreams rather disturbing, however. I do not believe a sleeping potion is a wise solution as we may lose valuable information this way. We cannot allow you to continue disturbing the other boys though, it could be costly to their marks."
"Professor Dumbledore, why don't we move him into another room? I believe the room that used to hold the philosopher's stone is now empty, and it would not take much work to turn it into a satisfactory bedroom. I believe that is what it originally was, in fact," Professor McGonagall suggested.
"Brilliant idea, Minerva. Did anyone else have anything of importance to tell us?" Dumbledore addressed the crowded room, and when no one stepped forward he smiled.
"Then this meeting is adjourned."
"Harry?"
Sirius' voice pulled Harry out of the state of near-sleep he had been in, and Harry rose slowly from the chair he had collapsed in after the meeting.
"Mmmm?" He murmured, opening one eye to study the face of his godfather, noting the slight lines of worry around his eyes.
"The room is ready. You have to go and collect you things, okay?" Sirius laid a hand on his godson's shoulder.
'When did he become so distant?' Sirius thought. 'When did I lose the boy I'd only just gained?'
"Umph...can't I do it in the morning?" Harry mumbled, his eye sliding shut again.
Sirius grinned. "Sorry Harry, but you have Snape first and I don't think he'd be pleased if you skipped his lesson in favour of shifting into a new room."
"Okay," Harry sighed. He stood slowly and walked out of the room, heading past the now-asleep gargoyle, and to the stairs that led up to the tower. This time the stairs cooperated with him and he made it without having to take any detours. He walked into the common room, silently praying that Ron and Hermione had already gone to bed. He really didn't want to have to face them right now. This was not to be, however. They were sitting by the fire, talking quietly. Ron looked up as Harry walked in and sent a sneer that could have rivalled one of Draco's his way. Harry ignored him in favour of one of the rooms other occupants.
"Dudley. What are you doing here?" Harry asked quietly, disguising his surprise. He had thought that Petunia and Dudley had returned to their house, but evidently this was not so.
Dudley looked up from the book he had been studying.
'My photo album,' Harry realised with a shock.
"Waiting for you," Dudley said, narrowing his piggy eyes.
"Why?"
Dudley slowly heaved himself to his feet. "It's your fault that my father is in jail."
Harry stared. "Dudley, it's his own fault. It was his decision to do what he did."
"No it's not! He only hurt you, and you don't matter! Why should I have to live alone with Mum?" Dudley screamed, spittle flying from his mouth and reminding Harry of the night that he had tackled Vernon.
"He would have ended up hurting you as well, Dudley. He pulled a gun on you, remember?"
"He wouldn't have used it! He would never have hurt me!"
"Do you really believe that?" Harry asked, taking a step forward.
"Shut up! You took something important of mine away, so it's only fair that you lose something precious too. Say goodbye to your parents, Harry," Dudley sneered, swinging his hand holding the album out over the fire.
"NO!" Harry screamed, diving towards Dudley. It was too late. The book fell, tumbling into the white-hot embers and catching alight immediately. Harry sank to his knees beside the hearth and, ignoring the flames, pulled the album out. He patted it with his hands, ignoring the pain shooting up his arms and trying desperately to stop the flames from fully devouring the book. A picture fell out, curling slightly around the edges as it smouldered. Realising that there was no way he could save the book, Harry concentrated on the photograph. He picked it up and watched in horror as it crumbled to ashes in his palm.
"No..." He murmured. "NO!"
Jumping to his feet, Harry turned to face Dudley, barely noticing Neville, pale-faced, slip out of the room.
"You," He growled, wand suddenly in his hand and eyes alight with fury. Then Dudley did the worst thing he could have done. He laughed. The sound seemed to float through Harry's head, bringing up images of Dudley punching him, the time he had stolen his homework because he had been too lazy to complete his own, when Dudley had tied him to a tree, slammed his face into the trunk several times and left him. A bright flash of light issued from Harry's wand, and instead of the laughing Dudley was a tiny maggot, writhing on the floor. Harry stared at it for a moment before sinking to his knees and picking up the album with trembling hands, watching as small pieces of ash wafted off the front. Slowly, silently, he began to sob.
Neville scurried down the corridor away from the common room.
"He shouldn't have done that, he shouldn't have do that, he so shouldn't have done that," He muttered to himself, looking about for someone, anyone.
"Who shouldn't have done what?" a cool voice asked from a tiny alcove in the wall, and Neville almost choked when Professor Snape stepped out of the shadows.
"He...Harry...Dudley...burn..." He stuttered, fear clouding his mind. Snape rolled his eyes.
"If you don't answer me in a tone and voice faintly resembling coherent, I will fail you in potions," He informed Neville.
Neville gulped.
"D-Dudley...was in the Common Room. Someone let him in. Don't know who. He got Harry's photo album. He...he burned it."
Snape raised an eyebrow. "And this is a reason to come out of the common room? I'm sure Mr. Potter will be able to collect more pictures."
Neville shook his head slowly. "Not these ones, P-Professor. The album was a gift from Hagrid to Harry in first year. It was full of pictures of his parents."
Snape sucked in his breath. "Come on. I just hope that idiot muggle is still alive."
Silence filled the common room and was echoed by a silence inside Harry's head. There was just an incredible numbness that was resulting in complete lack of thought. Harry was vaguely aware that someone was crying, but he couldn't pinpoint the sound. All of his attention was focussed on the burnt volume in front of him. A droplet of water fell onto the blackened cover, and Harry wiped it away with a shaking finger. Where had it come from? Another droplet soon followed, and the thought that perhaps it was coming from him eventually occurred to him. He raised the same finger to his face and felt a wetness on his cheeks, tasted a salty liquid on his lips. And as the thought occurred to him others began to follow, and with these thoughts sound began to return to the room. Whispered questions and hushed replies filled his ears, creating a sound that, for a moment, reminded him of the night in the graveyard when he had come face to face with Voldemort. The sound of the Fat Lady creaking open made him look up to see Neville standing beside Snape. Harry stared at the two for a moment before looking back to the album and running a hand across its ruined cover, watching the two tears blend with the ashes to coat his fingertips in a black, chalky substance.
Severus didn't know what he was expecting to see when he entered the common room, but it definitely was not what he found. People were standing around the edges of the round room, whispering and pointing at the crouched figure that was Harry in the centre of the room. Harry looked up as he heard the portrait creak open, and stared at the two in the doorway for a moment. The look in his eyes terrified Snape. He had seen many emotions in Harry's eyes over the years. Fear, confusion, pride, honour, determination, hatred...but none of them compared to the look of lost helplessness he saw now. Severus watched, speechless, as Harry ran a hand over the cover of the volume he held. The child's hands were burnt and starting to blister, Severus noted, but the boy didn't seem to feel the pain. Snape took a step forward.
"Harry?" He said gently, knowing that anything could push Harry over the edge at the moment. The boy looked up again, disinterest in his eyes.
"Where is Dudley?" Snape asked. Harry pointed wordlessly to the ground in front of him before returning his attention to the book. Severus stared at the ground for a moment before spotting a small, wriggling maggot.
"Very fitting, I should think," He noted quietly, kneeling before pulling a vial out of his robes and capturing the pupae in it. He stood and moved towards Harry, reached down a hand and pulled him to his feet. He did not resist, but he didn't relinquish his grasp on the photo album.
"Let's collect your things, Harry," Severus said, leading the boy up to the dormitories. As they emerged in the rooms above Echolalia flew over to them, chattering worriedly to Harry. When he did not reply she settled on his head and lightly tugged at his hair. Sebastian, hissing softly, wrapped himself around Harry's right arm and shoulders. There was silence for a moment, before a fluttering sound was heard. Hedwig appeared from the common room stairs to land on Harry's slightly-raised left arm. Severus watched this in silence before picking up Hedwig's cage and setting it on top of his trunk, casting a weightlessness spell and lifting the case.
"Come on, Harry," He said in the same gentle voice as he headed back down to the common room. Harry turned listlessly and followed him.
The whispers that had again filled the common room faded as the two appeared from above. Neither of the pair said anything until they reached the portal out of the common room.
"Ronald Weasley." Snape's voice cracked out like a whip over the heads of those in the room. A tiny first year burst into tears at the sound.
"You will report to my classroom directly after your final class for the next three days to serve out your detentions." With that, Severus led Harry from the room, the Fat Lady portrait closing with a very final 'click' behind them.
Harry tried not to think about what had happened as Snape guided him down the hall by his elbow. Memories of the pictures kept interfering, however. Images of his mother and father holding him, of his mother cooking breakfast in her pyjamas, of his father sitting down, opening the paper and beginning to read it upside down. The picture of his parent's wedding night with Sirius when he had been young and happy, of Remus when he hadn't been alone...and of his favourite. Lily laughing and hovering about thirty feet in the air holding a giggling Harry while James shouted for them to be careful from below. He shut his eyes and drew in a deep, shuddering breath.
'I will not cry. I won't give Dudley the satisfaction of making me cry twice in one day. There is no way. I won't cry,' The thought echoed around Harry's head, and became a mantra.
"Potter?" Snape's voice interrupted Harry from concentrating on those words.
"Yes, Professor?" Harry forced himself to answer, keeping his voice neutral.
"I believe that Madam Pompfrey will want to attend to those burns. You will go to the Hospital Wing, and I will take these to your room."
"Yes, Professor." Harry answered quietly. Neither mentioned the book clutched to Harry's chest, and either looked back as they headed off their separate ways.
"Dear Goddess, what have you been doing?!" Was Madam Pompfrey's reaction as she opened the Hospital Wing door to find Harry standing outside, still holding the book.
"Come in, come in. Sit down here, put the book down, let me have a look at your hands," She ordered him as she fussed about the shelves full of potions. Harry sat down on one of the empty beds. A child who seemed to have a bad cold and couldn't sleep stared at Harry curiously.
"Dear, put the book down," Madam Pompfrey said again, finding what she was looking for and returning to stand in front of him. Harry was silent for a moment before carefully placing the album down on the side of the bed and holding out his hands. Poppy took hold of one wrist and raised it slightly so that she could examine the burns better.
"Hmm...there isn't much we can do for burns. I'll put a poultice on your hands to get rid of the pain and bind them up, but other than that you will have to wait for them to heal naturally," She told him. She opened the bottle that had been removed from the shelf and began to apply the sickly-sweet smelling paste to Harry's hands. When she had finished with the paste she bound his hands up tightly in a white cloth, tsking quietly under her breath.
"There, all done. You'll have to come back once a day for the next week to get the bandage changed, and try to write as little as you can during the week, okay? You should be able to use your wand a little as it is extremely light, but no strenuous activity," She told him. "I would prefer it if you stayed here for the night, but you don't have to."
Harry shook his head. "I'd rather go back to my room, thank you."
"Well, okay then. Goodnight dear, and next time please try to be a little more careful. If you don't the teachers are going to start taking bets on how many times you will end up here each month."
Harry nodded and smiled weakly, before picking up the album. Madam Pompfrey frowned.
"That should really be thrown out, Harry. There's no use in keeping it; it's ruined."
Harry shook his head quickly. "I want to keep it. Please?" He added as he watched her.
"Well...I suppose, if it's that important to you. You have to promise me to stay out of trouble though, okay?"
Harry nodded and, thanking the nurse once more, left the Wing.
Harry slowly opened the door that Fluffy had once lived behind, and walked into the room. It had changed a lot since he had last seen it. A fire crackled on one side of the room and a large bed was near it. A desk and a chair occupied the other side of the room, and tapestries that depicted historical events and showed fantastical creatures battling aged wizards and witches hung from the walls, and another door that Harry had not noticed in the first year appeared to lead off to a small bathroom. Professor Snape was standing by the fire, talking to Professor Dumbledore. They both turned to face Harry as they heard him enter.
"I'm sorry, Harry," Dumbledore said quietly, walking over to him and placing a gentle hand on his back. Harry shrugged.
"There's nothing that can be done now," He said quietly, carefully placing the ruined album on the desk. He could feel Dumbledore's eyes on his back, and turned around to face him.
"I'm rather tired, Professor. I'd like to get some sleep, if you don't mind."
Dumbledore nodded. "Of course, Harry. I have talked to Dobby and he has agreed to clean your room. All the facilities you will need are here, and the passage below has been kept open in case you feel the need to use it. You are excused from lessons tomorrow, so you can sleep in."
Harry nodded. "Where is he?"
"Where is who?" Dumbledore asked.
"My cousin."
Dumbledore turned to Snape. "Severus?"
Snape sighed, and handed over the vial. "I was planning on using him in one of my potions," He said regretfully.
Dumbledore's lips twitched. "A noble idea, Severus, but not one that I believe the Ministry of Magic will appreciate." He opened pocketed the glass tube, and turned back to Harry. "The next meeting will be in a week, at seven o'clock."
Harry nodded. "Yes, Sir."
Dumbledore nodded, and, patting Harry's back once more, walked out of the room. Severus quickly followed.
