Seeing Double
Chapter Five – A Suspicious Visitor
Written By: Lord of the Flame
Beta-ed By: Marcela
*
"Harry" awoke with a start. He was shaking all over, his eyes watery and wide. Cold drops of sweat were running down his face; his raven hair was clinging damply to his forehead, which was creased with worry.
The dream had been horrible. He had not needed to be reminded of the accident (though it really wasn't an accident) yet; he had been having enough trouble getting over it to begin with. It was not the first time the dream had haunted him. Every night it was the same vision, sometimes slightly different, but always nonetheless it came. Like a poison without an antidote. Like a plague of his worst nightmares.
A voice called out sleepily in the darkness. "Are you okay?"
"Harry" recognized the voice as Ron's. The red-haired boy had sat up in bed, his hair tousled, looking at "Harry" with immense concern.
"Harry" swallowed, taking in a deep breath, asking him himself the same question over and over.
Am I okay?
"I'm fine, Ron," he assured his "friend", though the doubt was still there. Since her death, the doubt, or guilt, had always been there, holding him, feeling like a stone in his chest.
"Did you have another nightmare?" Ron asked worriedly.
How could he have possibly known? Had the real Harry had nightmares also?
Harry nodded his head silently. "Whenever you don't know the answer to a question that can be answered with yes or no and has no sexual reference," Sirius had always said, "It's always 'yes'."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"No." This was one question that Harry was sure of the answer. Ron had no right to know about her; "Harry" didn't even know Ron. The other Harry, maybe, would've told Ron everything about his dream, but that Harry was not the same Harry anymore. That Harry was himself; he was that Harry.
"Alright, Harry," mumbled Ron uncertainly. If "Harry" had known Ron better, he would've felt sorry at Ron's hurt, dejected tone of voice. "I'm going back to bed, then," he continued.
A few moments later, "Harry" heard the distinct sound of a snoring redhead in the bed next to him. He was alone in the darkness. Alone again…
He remained sitting upright in bed, not wanting to go back to bed, afraid of his dreams. Though when he that about it, he didn't want to remain awake either. He had too much time to think when he was awake. If only he could find a temporary magic solution that would put him in some sort of 'hibernation'.
Belittling the silly idea, "Harry" stared straight at the wall, not thinking about anything in particular. If he started thinking, surely his thoughts would drift to her. And his thoughts drifting to her was the last thing "Harry" wanted at the moment. He just wanted peace and quiet—no thoughts running through his head.
"Harry" yawned. Maybe he was more tired than he had originally thought. He stretched back into bed, now staring at the ceiling. Perhaps if he could just lie here all night, he would get enough rest, but not actually have to sleep. It amused "Harry" greatly that he used to be so fond of sleep, but now he avoided it at all cost. He almost found it ironic. Things had definitely changed in the past year. "Harry" wasn't sure whether or not they had changed for the better or for the worse, but they had definitely changed.
Harry felt weariness creep up on him. He blinked and sat up in bed again. He couldn't fall asleep; he would surely have that dream again.
Ron was still snoring in the bed next to him. "Harry" sighed despondently. If only his life could be as easily as Ron's. Ron had a family that loved him, good friends, and, though he may not have been rich with money like the Malfoys, but he was rich in his own way. He had something the Malfoys would never have--Love. The Malfoys would never have the love for each other that the Weasleys or "Harry" and Sirius had. The only thing that held that family together was money. Harry wondered for a moment if money was actually the root of all evil, not hatred.
To keep himself occupied, "Harry" surveyed the small room he currently occupied. Directly in front of him was Ron's dresser, an oak case with open drawers and various clothes hanging out. The walls all around him were painted bright orange with so many posters of the waving, happy Chudley Cannons that a person could go blind. Ron's four-poster was against the wall to the right of "Harry" and next to it was an oak bed table to match the dresser. Various objects were strewn all over the table, such as quills, ink, and paper. On "Harry's" left there was a basically empty bookcase. The room seemed to sag with sorrow in the stillness.
"Harry" was sorry for many things, himself. For not being there for her, for not spending more time with Sirius (would he ever see him again?)… and most importantly, for not being the Harry everyone thought he was.
*
"G'morning, Harry! Did you sleep well?"
"Harry" trudged to the breakfast table tiredly. He was among the first ones out of bed, considering it was seven o' clock in the morning in the middle of summer vacation. Ron, according to Ginny's word, probably wouldn't be up for another three hours at least.
"I slept fine, Mrs. Weasley," he answered, taking a seat. "How 'bout you?"
"Fine, thanks. Are you hungry?"
"Not really."
Mrs. Weasley looked at him funny. "Are you sure?" she probed.
"Yeah," mumbled "Harry", "Positive."
Contrary to his wishes, Mrs. Weasley set a plate down in front of him, filled to the rim with sausage, pancakes, bacon, toast, and anything else a person could want. "Eat anyway," he commanded him, "You're thin as a pole."
It was Ginny who next stepped into the kitchen, sleepy-eyed and tousle-haired. She stopped when she saw "Harry" at the table and smiled. She didn't look at all tired anymore.
"Good morning, Harry!" Ginny's eyes were laughing at him. "Harry" glared. What right did she have to laugh at him? It was her idea in the first place!
"'Morning, Ginny," he said crisply, still glaring. He continued to glare when she pulled up a seat next to him and leaned over.
"You shouldn't stare, you know," she said with a smirk. "It's considered rude."
"Whatever," he shot back, now ignoring her. He looked at his plate, fumbling around with his fork.
"Harry" just then remembered something he wanted to ask Mrs. Weasley again, but never got the chance. The door opened and in walked Mr. Weasley, looking exhausted and depressed.
"Arthur!" Mrs. Weasley cried. She ran at him and gave him a loving hug. "I was so worried. Are you okay? What happened? Is everything all right?"
Arthur returned the display of affection, however wearily. "Everything is not OK, Molly, but now is not the time to talk about it."
"Harry" knew it was him they were talking about. Ginny had explained to him all about the real Harry's past, but that didn't stop him from wanting to know what was going on. He found himself wanting to yell, "Why isn't this the time to talk about it?" but he didn't. It wasn't his place in this house—or world or whatever—to do that. It was Harry's place.
"Don't let me bother you," he said instead, almost feeling Mr. Weasley's pointed glance. "I'm finished anyway." And with that, "Harry" was gone.
"Oh!" cried Mrs. Weasley, still in earshot. "But he hasn't eaten anything yet. Arthur!!"
*
"Harry" was furious. He didn't know exactly why he was so angry; he just knew he was. Were all the adult wizards here like this? Sirius had never kept secrets from him, nor his professors, or any other adults.
He stormed his way back up to Ron's room, not caring how much noise he made. Groans and grumbles came from inside the doors as he stomped past.
When he got to the room, Ron was already getting dressed. Luckily for "Harry" (and Ron), he already had his jeans on.
"Whassa matter, mate?" said Ron with a sleepy drawl.
"I'm just frustrated is all," "Harry" replied. "No one will talk about anything in front of me. It's kinda like they're trying to protect me from stuff, but how can I be protected if I don't know what's going on? Don't I deserve to know what's going on with M—Voldemort?" Harry caught himself quickly. That was close.
Ron flinched at the name 'Voldemort', but he nodded anyway. "Yeah," he agreed. "Dumbledore and them aren't doing you any good, keeping secrets and all. I mean, you could walk straight into Voldemort's hideout—well, probably not, but you get my point, right?" Ron paused for a moment and looked at "Harry". "Hey! Cheer up, Harry! Hermione's gets here today!"
"No offense to Hermione, or anything, but I'm not in the mood to 'cheer up'," "Harry" grumbled this.
"So you're just going to sit there and mope? That doesn't sound like you."
"Sorry?"
*
Hermione arrived just a bit after lunch. "Harry's" first impression of her was that she was neat and plain. Her skin was slightly tanned, with brown eyes and brown hair. She was wearing simple Muggle clothing, a yellow t-shirt and an ankle-length denim skirt.
"Hello, Harry!" she called. She then continued to greet every member of the family in turn, with a hug for each. "Harry" returned her greeting, but didn't look directly at her.
"What's wrong?" she asked worriedly. "Are you okay, Harry?"
"Yeah… Hermione, I'm fine," he mumbled. Then he added "Just great" for emphasis. Hermione still looked concerned.
"Are you sure?"
"Harry" didn't get a chance to answer, because Ron intervened. "Harry" said great things about Ron under his breath.
"So, 'Mione! How you been? Just ignore Harry here, he went insane over holiday."
"Ron, that's not funny," scolded Hermione, but she was still smiling. "Harry" was starting to pick up a vibe between the two of them. Something along the lines of "Hey! I like you, but I'll never get the guts to tell you!" Frankly, it made "Harry" nervous. After all, did the real Harry know about this? Where was the real Harry, anyway?
"You know, guys," he said uncomfortably, "I think I'm going to go outside for a bit, I need some fresh air." It wasn't a total lie, he actually did want to go outside for a bit, but it was more to get away from all the tension than to get some fresh air.
"Do you want us to come with you, Harry?" Hermione replied, a small frown creasing her face. Ron nodded in agreement, though "Harry" had a feeling that he would agree with Hermione even if Hermione said the sky was falling.
"Nah," he said dejectedly, "I just want some time alone."
"Well… alright," Hermione agreed unwillingly, "but don't be too long, I haven't seen you or Ron for ages, it seems."
"All right, see ya in a few."
"Harry" exited as soon as possible. Yes, he was glad to get away from it all.
*
Hermione, as she watched Harry retreat, was worried out of her mind.
"Ron?" she asked. "Are you sure he's all right?" She knew she didn't have a real reason to be worried about him, but since when had Harry become so distant and quiet? Usually he and Ron were the two most obnoxious boys in the Gryffindor house, except for maybe Fred and George.
"Yeah, Hermione," said Ron, assured. "Why do you ask?"
"No reason, really," Hermione countered, "He just seems a bit… I don't know… standoffish."
"He's just Harry, Mione, nothing more, nothing less. You now what he went through. In fact, when he first got here he was trying to convince everyone that he wasn't Harry. I think he's just sick of all the fame, or something."
"He was trying to convince everyone he wasn't Harry?" squeaked Hermione. "That's odd."
"How is that odd? I just gave you a perfectly good reason!" exclaimed Ron. He stood up from where they had been sitting on the sofa. He walked over to the window and looked out.
"That's not it, Ron," said Hermione, getting up and following him. She could see Harry out of the window, sitting under the shade of a big oak tree, his head in his hands.
"Then what is it?" questioned Ron. He was looking at Harry with an odd look in his eyes, then he looked away.
"It's just that… well, I feel stupid saying it."
"Saying what?"
"Ron, I don't think that's Harry."
*
A/N: And that's a rap! (Yo, yo, yo. ^_^ Hurray for Flame's corny jokes)
THANK YOU, EVERYONE! Review, as always!
