At first Madam Pomfrey didn't say anything, she just stared at the mark. After a moment she sighed and wrapped another piece of bandage around his hand.
"I'll go and get Dumbledore," she said, voice strangely quiet. Harry nodded and stared at the floor, trying to look at anything other than the expression of apprehension and pity on her face. There was a moment of awkward silence, and then she moved aside one of the curtains hanging in the room, opened the picture behind it and stepped into the tunnel it revealed.
"I'll be back soon, don't move," she called back as she closed the painting behind her. Harry snorted.
"Figured she'd have some way to get to Dumbledore's office without having to go wandering through the halls," he muttered. He stood then and wandered over to the pile of bottles and bandages lying on the floor and began to pack them neatly back into the cupboard. As his hand closed around the last bottle he stiffened, then stood from his kneeling position.
"I know you're there," he whispered. "Please, just go."
Hermione and Ron started at the whisper that was so clearly directed at them. Hermione bit her lip and glanced at Ron. He was gritting his teeth, and before she could stop him he had burst through the door and shoved Harry up against the cupboard, holding him there by his collar.
"You prick," he hissed. "Do you really think we're so far behind you that we can't even take care of ourselves? You're so full of arrogance that –"
"Let go." Harry's voice was calm, but his eyes were angry and Ron found his hands being loosened and forced away from Harry's collar against his will. Harry dropped to the ground, and caught something that had come flying in through the door to the Hospital Wing. He raised it and dropped back into a defensive stance. There was a tense moment where it wasn't obvious whether he would attack or not, and then he blinked and looked down at what was in his hand.
A gleaming silver sword, its handle glittering with rubies the size of eggs…'Dear me, impaled upon your own sword, Gilderoy!'
'Sword? Haven't got a sword. That boy has, though…'
'Only a true Gryffindor could have pulled that out of the hat, Harry…'
The sword that was in Harry's hand clattered to the ground and he kicked it away, a savage snarl twisting across his face.
"I don't want this!" he screamed, hitting the cupboard door with his fist. Ron and Hermione stared at him, shocked, then turned as they heard a creaking noise. The picture Madam Pomfrey had disappeared through opened to reveal Dumbledore and the matron.
"It doesn't matter if you want it or not anymore, Harry," Dumbledore said quietly, his eyes shining with sympathy. "You have it now."
Harry shook his head, shoulders shaking with sudden sobs. "But I can't," he whispered. "I can't be what they want me to be. I can't…I'm just me. Just Harry…"
Dumbledore shook his head. "I think perhaps we should find out a little bit more about this…phenomenon, Harry, before coming to any real decision."
'But you've already made a decision,' Harry thought. 'You've already decided for me.'
"The Book of Founders?" He asked, voice resigned. Dumbledore nodded.
"Yes. I think it would be best to start there."
Hermione raised her hand cautiously, reminding the group that she and Ron were still in the room.
"Excuse me Sir, but I think you owe us an explanation."
* * *
"So the dreams Harry had been having, they were to do with Voldemort then?" Hermione asked, trying to make sure that she had understood correctly. Dumbledore had decided to tell them what had happened on the basis that they would almost certainly find out on their own if he didn't. Hermione had been asking plenty of questions, eager to know more about what was happening, but Ron had simply sat and listened. Dumbledore nodded.
"That would be why he's been falling asleep in class so often and why the teachers don't get upset," She murmured, satisfied with the Headmaster's answer.
"I've made a complete idiot of myself, haven't I?" Ron said suddenly, startling the others. "I've been a complete ponce."
Hermione hesitated, then answered him. "Don't take this the wrong way, Ron, but...yes. You have."
"Harry…I'm really sorry, Harry. I didn't realise how serious the situation was…" Ron started, his voice fading off as he looked at Harry, who was sitting with The Book of Founders on his lap, hands clenched so tightly on the cover that his knuckles were white.
"It doesn't matter," Harry answered, voice low. "It would have happened anyway. They were pushing for it, you see, to see what my reaction would be. There's no way it could have been avoided."
"Who, Harry?" Hermione asked, a look of confusion and worry on her face.
"My four ghostly stalkers," Harry answered with a small laugh, looking up at her. His face was pale and the dark circles under his eyes were highlighted through the contrast, making it almost look as if his face was a skull.
"Are you certain of who they are, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, face and voice serious. Harry nodded.
"I've already talked to one, remember? Now that I've made it clear that I'm aware the others are around they'll show themselves soon enough." Harry looked past Dumbledore to the bed behind him, and sighed. "Isn't that right, hmm?"
One by one, looking just the tiniest bit sheepish and very amused, four ghosts materialised in the area where he was looking.
