Disclaimers: The characters don't belong to me... *waves off* I know that already, dammit. Only the idea belongs to me, and I can hardly remember when the idea started floating around in my head. And I'm writing this when I should be doing math homework... ^^;;;

Warnings: Angst and angst. This is NOT going to be a happy, feel good story. I might end this with a happy ending, but I doubt it unless people actually convice me. And even though I'll use it as an alternate ending. LOL. A little bit of Draco+Harry/Harry+Draco but it won't come up until later.



Into the Cold Fire
Shamera



He didn't want to wake up. It was so warm where he was, in the deep darkness and the snug heat. But he knew that he had to… almost like when a spell was placed on one to wake up. It wasn't any use to try and disobey that spell.

The first thing that he noticed when he truly woke up had to be the light. It was hard not to notice that when it hurt his eyes so. But then… the next thing he noticed was brilliant red. Red hair not unlike the Weasley family. But not a bright red that practically glowed in the dark… but a darker and more subdued red, almost brownish in the dim light of the infirmary.

He moved his head tiredly to follow that red, frowning as he tried to remember where he had seen that color before. He was sure that the Weasleys were the only redheads that he knew… and their hair color was nothing like this. Not this subdued.

The person he was looking at must have realized he was awake because she (had to be a girl. She had a figure after all) immediately stood up. He tried his best to make out the face, but he could barely see parts of her.

"Albus." She sounded relieved, almost, looking up. Where had he heard that voice before? Harry would swear that he had heard her voice before, yet if he had, he would have most certainly remembered it. He didn't know many people outside of Hogwarts, but he was sure that he had never heard that voice in school before.

Another figure strode up the Harry.

"I see our boy is awake." There was an amusement in the voice that was very familiar to Harry, as he always remembered his own Headmaster talking like that. He squinted a bit to see, still only semi-lucid at the moment. "Perhaps now he can answer the questions that we need to hear."

What were they talking about? His head felt so fuzzy… he could barely think at all. It was like someone had taken much time to place cobwebs all over his mind, although he would have expected more of a headache than the one he currently had. Then the first question (which had been drilled into him to ask the first thing he gained consciousness) was:

Where was he?

At least… that was what he tried to ask. What probably came out were nothing more than a croak, though. He felt as if he had swallowed fire and had third-degree burns running down his throat. But strangely enough, the pain he felt was very much diluted down. Almost like… he was very drink. Without loosing his senses.

The redhead in question seemed to mull over what to do for a few moments before muttering, "I'll go get Poppy. She'll want to know her patient's awake. Will probably make something that'll allow him to speak better as well."

"Yes, yes…" The other mumbled, resting a warm hand on Harry's forehead.

Harry didn't know how to react. He wasn't sure he could actually react much. His limbs all felt like lead, and he felt more tired than having practiced quittidich for over five hours straight. But he still felt as if he needed to understand his surroundings more. And well, he couldn't very well do that while he was lying down incapacitated, could he?

He struggled extremely hard to move his arms and push himself up against the head of the bed. It didn't help that his blurry vision made it hard tell which was up and which was down. Where the bloody hell was his glasses, anyway?

Although he could not see it, Albus smiled slightly. It seemed that this boy was indeed stubborn and stronger than he first expected. He seemed to be fighting the numbing potion that Poppy had added in his drink the first time he woke up.

"You are at Hogwarts, child. And if you can answer, there is a few things that need answering."

Harry just nodded dully, not completely comprehending. There were still too many cobwebs in his mind, too much confusion. What in the world had happened? He couldn't remember at the moment. And he had a feeling that he should be able to remember, and that he would, given a certain amount of time.

He could faintly see the redhead coming back again, this time leading someone else.

"First of all, can you tell us who you are?"

Harry tried to work his tongue for a few moments before he seemed it satisfactory enough to produce to sounds he needed to answer the question. "Harry Potter." He said, grimacing at the hoarse grinding sound that accompanied his answer.

There was a sharp intake of breath, although from whom, he wasn't sure.

The person who was questioning him seemed to think this over a bit, as if not quite happy with that answer. Then there was a brief sigh and a few more questions. "Alright, then. Who were your parents, your birthday, and… your godfather's name."

Cobwebs. Blah. Cobwebs were so overrated. Why was his mind still so hazy? But still, he was glad that he could answer all of this without having to think about it.

"My parents were James and Lily Potter… I was born on July 31, 1980 and my godfather is Sirius Black." There. And his voice still sounded horrible, although it was getting easier to speak.

"Well…" muttered a shock feminine voice that was oh-so-familiar to Harry. "That's common knowledge. Although there isn't many people who know that Sirius was Harry's godfather… it wasn't kept secret."

Harry frowned. What were they talking about? And… he struggled to think. Why was he feeling so… for a lack of a better word, high? He didn't like the feeling at all. And he didn't like the blurry vision, either. It made him feel… rather defenseless, actually.

"Can't think right…" he mumbled softly, still dazed from waking up and not realizing anything- where he was, who was there with him, and what happened.

The redhead turned to the other woman she brought in. "Poppy? What's wrong with him?"

The woman came up to him straight away and fussed over him a bit… checking his temperature and his eyes, then muttering a spell that Harry couldn't hear underneath her breath. She finally nodded, as if satisfied with her results. "Shock. Not in the terms of the immediate sense, of course. More like refusing to accept something. Common symptoms of trauma patients- hardly surprising considering the state he was in before he got here."

Shock? Was that what it was? Well then… he didn't like being in shock much, then.

The woman tsked and fussed over his some more, making sure the pillows behind him wouldn't hurt his back if he leaned on them for too long, and that his covers were at least pulled neatly over his waist.

"What do you think of this, Headmaster? He seems too out of it to lie to us right now… but I don't understand." The redhead sounded… strained.

"Perhaps there are easy explanations to this than the ones you seek." The man turned back towards Harry and gave an encouraging pat on the arm. "Well, then, young Harry… do you remember anything about what happened to you or how you got here?"

Harry frowned again. This was ridiculous. He could barely think, much less remember anything!

But…

HotFireFlamesScotchingEvilBlistersHeatRedBloodHelplessHopeless

"I remember…" He could barely hear himself talking, barely feel himself giving a small, secret smile. "I remember just a small thing."

"Oh?" There was curiosity in the word, no matter who uttered that word.

Harry closed his eyes, the small smile still lingering on his lips. With that memory coming back to him, no matter how muddled he still felt, he also felt distinctly cold. It was near freezing without the fire there, without all the flames there to lick away at his skin.

"What do you remember, Harry?" The redheaded woman pressed.

He opened his eyes. "Fire." And gave them a quirk of his lips. "The world was on fire. And… they wanted me to put it out. So I did." He made a vague gesture with his right arm, and dimly saw all the white bandages that he was covered in. "And flooded the world."

He laughed now. Laughed until he lost his brittle voice, until he didn't sound quite sane.



"What would you make of him, Lily?"

The redheaded woman that had paced the Hospital Wing more times than she could remember shook her head violently and wrung her hands. "I don't know what to make of him, Albus. Like you said before, he shouldn't be lying when he's in a state like this… but this is insane." She stopped all movements whatsoever, a melancholy look appearing in her eyes. "Completely insane."

Albus Dumbledore sat behind his desk wearily, uncertain to recent actions. "He is truthful, I will give him that. It makes everything much more complicated, though." He gave a hearty sigh and adjusted his half moon spectacles. "But if he really is Harry Potter, then we have the miracle we wanted for so long now, correct?"

Lily looked up from where she was staring at the coffee table. "I…" she struggled for words. "I guess so, Professor. But I guess this miracle wasn't intended for the war." She also gave a sigh and buried a hand in her auburn locks. "What in the world am I going to tell James?" she murmured.

"The truth, of course."

She turned and started pacing again, not caring if she was going to wear a trail in the Headmaster's office. "It's not that easy! James is utterly convinced that the child is an imposter. I tried to talk to him before, tried to convince him of the slightest chance of a miracle. But he won't listen to me." She gave a brief chortling laughter. "Says that we should always expect the worst, and that it could always be a trap."

She stopped pacing and fiddled with a ring on her thin necklace. "He's changed as well." She said softly.

"Everyone has changed in the coarse of the war." Albus tried to reassure her. "But he still loves you and will listen to you if you are sure of what to tell him."

Lily sat down in one of the chairs. "But that's just it. I'm not sure of what to tell him. Here's a boy that looks so much like him… like James, like our little Harry. Except he's nearly grown up and he's different. There's no way he can be our son because our son died years ago. I would have said something with a time-turner, but that can't be true either… because Harry never saw his eleventh birthday."

"There is a few other theories you have left out. But I would like to confirm something before I have to reveal all." Albus stood up again. "You should try again with James. He may not want to believe, but somewhere deep in his heart, he wants nothing more but for this to be true."

There was a brief and terse knock on the door. The Headmaster smiled suddenly. "Ah, that would be Minerva. Do come in!"

The doors opened to see a flustered Head of Gryffindor and an extremely annoyed Head of Slytherin come on, carting with them two boys who were both sporting bruises and glaring daggers at each other.

"Headmaster!" Minerva McGonagall looked ready to burst with anger. "These two boys were found in the dungeons fighting. Again."

Lily couldn't help but hide a smile as she saw the two. Ronald Weasley and Draco Malfoy. It would figure, really. Those two had been at each other's throats since first year. They were lucky that Albus was so lenient with them… as well as the fact that their daily spats amused the old man to no ends.

"Well, then…" Albus was smiling. "What do you two have to say about this?"

"He started it!"

The two boys glared hard at each other, both having said that at the same time. Really, even at sixteen they couldn't stop phrases like that when with each other.

"Professor Dumbledore!" There were two voices that burst into the room, looking rumpled and as if they had run across the castle to get there. "It wasn't Ron, Professor! It was Malfoy's fault!"

The blonde Slytherin sneered. "Of course a Gryffindor would say that. Typical Gryffindor answer, don't you think?" He didn't struggle in Professor Snape's hold, though.

Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan had rushed into the room, and were both talking a mile a minute, making up excuses and reasons to get their fellow Gryffindor out of trouble.

Lily excused herself as Albus waved her out, and heard the argument long after she left the office. Those boys… they were really loud.

But her thoughts faltered. Harry should have been in their year… should have been their friend. He might have been the one in trouble now, just like James was always in trouble. Maybe if Harry had been there, those boys would have been part of a new generation of Marauders, would have pulled pranks on all the Professors and had fun.

And maybe, she allowed the forbidden thought to come to her, they could still do that. If this really was Harry… even if it were someone else, she wanted a good life for him. Call it maternal instinct, call it sympathy. But having watched her child grow into such a joyful little boy gave her time to make plans for his future. Plans that had never been carried out. Plans… that she still wanted to carry out, no matter what.

But there was still many complications, so many obstacles in the way.

But no matter. She would talk to James, and get him to speak with the boy who went by her son's name at least. Smiling to herself, Lily found herself fiddling with the ring that James had given her for their fifteenth anniversary again.

Maybe… it really was a miracle.



Harry pushed his glasses up from where they had been slipping down his nose. He felt much better now… although still as confused as before. Madam Pomfrey had told him that it was expected, so that he shouldn't worry about it much. But most of his injuries had been healed (he was also told that he had been out for over two weeks) and he felt anxious to leave the infirmary. It wasn't that he had anything against the place, no. He could vaguely remember very good memories here, learning wizarding medicine and healing. But it was just that he wasn't allowed to do anything more than sit and read.

Could it get any more boring?

There was a small nagging voice in the back of his head that told him he would rather be bored than have things happen right now. He couldn't help but reluctantly agree to that. He still felt too tired to walk, much less have anything happen to him.

He could barely remember what he had said to the Headmaster that made everyone so upset. They had taken away his wand (did he have it in the first place?) and told him to stay put. Then gave him a muggle book and went off to discuss other things.

Of course, Madam Pomfrey came and went once in a while, and Harry realized that he was in a secluded section of the Hospital Wing, because he could dimly hear students in the background, complaining of physical ailments. He was surprised that he couldn't see any of them, because it always looked as if the entire place was empty. He also wondered if other people knew he was here, and wondered on where he was.

Oh, he remembered Hogwarts all right. He remembered that he was supposed to be in sixth year, Gryffindor. He vaguely remembered the classes that he took and his friends. But the thing that really set him off was that his friends hadn't visited him, and when asking Madam Pomfrey about it, she just gave him a strange look.

The one thing he remembered the most was the fire. He couldn't remember much of what happened before, or the events that lead up to it, but he remembered choking on the fumes and the emotions that were so tangible spread in the air.

He couldn't even remembered what happened after it, only the feeling of relief and the freezing cold that settled over his smoldering flesh.

Which, he had to admit, wasn't the thing he wanted to think about all day.

He wanted to talk with other people, wanted to sort out all the things in his mind, and wanted to understand what was happening to him. He had a feeling that he didn't want to remember, didn't want to memories to surface again. But there was also a feeling of honest truth that he missed. It was the feeling that tempted him into trouble all the time. That he just had to know what was going on.

Well, at least he got his glasses.

Harry scowled a bit as he remembered that. He didn't understand why they had to give him seeing tests before giving him glasses. Why couldn't they just understand that he was blind as a bat and to just hand him the thickest pair of glasses possible? It only got him irritated each time someone had to look at him with the shock of how blind he really was.

Maybe next time he should ask for contact lenses.

Oh yes, that would go well. And when in a wizard duel he'd have to stop and have people look for his contacts if it fell out. He grinned to himself. At least contacts would be harder to fall off. He was tired of someone accidentally knocking his glasses askew.

He fingered his glasses in thought. Maybe he could just transfigure his glasses into contacts. But no, he would need his wand to do that.

He scowled to himself again. Well, he could at least keep himself amused, right?

He looked around the infirmary cautiously. As long as it was small… he should be able to practice.

Seeing the water pitcher on the desk by the bed, Harry smirked slightly.



TBC

Authoress's Rambles: Next chapter Draco and Harry meet! ^_^ And well as the Gryffindors if I can put that in. Where's Hermione? And Lily trying to convince James to talk to Harry. I need to stop getting distracted by other things. It's James's fault, really, for giving me the Now and Then, Here and There CDs. ^^;; I've been watching and couldn't help but plot fic ideas with that storyline...
Thanks to Crystal Millennium, Maudlin, FireSenshi, and chibi-Tenshi who reviewed! ^_^ Yes, he's going to stay in this universe for a while, although I'm not sure if he should go back or not yet. And how he got there will be explained in the near future! ^_~ I'm in too good of a mood currently to write angst, really. *dances off into the sunset with Hisoka in tow, sputtering and protesting* Have a nice day, peoples!!

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