Thanks CokeFreak, whitemudfounder, *****, Shadowsofpain, coolchick207, The Lady Sorcha of Sevenwaters, Maxx77, and Arizosa for reviewing to chapter three. :)
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"Harry!"
"No, no, I'm sorry, no, no, no," Harry murmured.
"Harry! Wake up!" Harry was shook awake and wearily opened his eyes to face Ron. He opened his mouth as if to say something important, then with a seeming realization closed it.
"You all right?" Ron asked him.
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine," Harry said somewhat distractedly, sitting up.
He discreetly pulled down the left sleeve of his pajamas.
"It's time for breakfast," Ron said.
"Huh? Oh. Right. Okay. I'll be down in a minute." Ron left, leaving Harry alone.
Harry turned to sit on the edge of his bed, and sighed heavily, collapsing, supporting his head in his hands. He'd just had a terrible dream, and it hadn't even been a vision. It was just a dream.
Harry felt so completely overwhelmed. He had no idea what to do with himself for the moment. He needed to plan, he needed to cope, and in the meantime he needed to seem as though everything were fine.
He reached under his mattress and found what he was looking for. He brought it out and slowly pulled up his left sleeve, then opened up the knife.
Harry found an uncut place on his wrist and brought the knife down to it. He pressed down slightly, and dragged the knife across his skin.
He closed his eyes as the stinging shot through him and he savored the pain. It was great and incredible, deeper and more wonderful than he even remembered. As the pain slowly began to fade he opened his eyes to watch himself bleed.
It was amazing. He really loved watching himself bleed, and the strange feeling of peace and comfort that it always brought. After a minute he got up and gently washed it away. He noticed, but it never sunk in how much extra blood there was this time.
Harry got dressed, glad now to have the robes, for they had long sleeves and he felt far more comfortable wearing them than he had at the Weasleys', where he had to wear shirts with long sleeves during the summer, and was living in constant fear of suspicion. He pushed back the left sleeve to look at the cuts once more. The older ones were healing, but he could already tell they would leave a faint scar. He still didn't regret them.
Harry still didn't feel quite ready to go down to breakfast yet. He lay on back on top of his bed and closed his eyes. He felt like he was spinning. He didn't know how long he laid there like that, everything blank and spinning and dark, before the sensation stopped. He opened his eyes. He felt tired. He got up rather slowly, and noiselessly started to head downstairs.
"*There* you are!" Hermione greeted Harry in the entrance hall. She noticed suddenly that Harry looked tired and unusually pale. She shook off the observation for now.
"What took you?" Ron asked.
"Um," said Harry. Ron and Hermione were looking at him expectantly. Harry shrugged. Ron rolled his eyes.
"We brought you some toast," Hermione said, handing it to Harry.
"Oh," he said. "Thank you."
"We got our new schedules," Ron said, handing Harry's to him. "Herbology first. Not bad."
Harry didn't say anything. Herbology was with the Hufflepuffs. With Hufflepuff Cedric Diggory's death and loss of the Triwizard Tournament last year, he expected it to be awkward.
As the three of them approached the greenhouses an odd hush came over the students waiting outside. They noticed, and Ron and Hermione glanced at Harry uneasily. The class abruptly started talking again, more loudly than before.
"I was right then," Harry said under his breath.
***********************************************
"What have we got today?" Harry asked Ron a few days later as they were leaving breakfast.
"Divination." Harry groaned.
"*Why?*" he moaned. Hermione looked smug.
"Yeah, I know, it sucks, doesn't it?" Ron replied.
"You should have dropped it like I did," Hermione said in a superior tone.
"You always tell us that," Ron said.
"Well you should have! Trelawney's an old quack, everyone knows it. Well, maybe not them." She tilted her head toward Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, who were happily running in the direction of the Divination tower. Ron sighed.
"Come on, Harry, let's go." Hermione waved at them with an air of obnoxious superiority as they went their different ways. "This'll be a nightmare."
"It will be awful, at least," Harry said. As bad as Divination was, his nightmares were always at least a hundred times worse.
The three of them got their books, and then Harry and Ron started going to Divination, as Hermione waved goodbye to them in an annoying way on the way to her class. Ron made a face at her.
As they reached the entrance to the Divination classroom, a hush came over the students already assembled there. Harry had realized by now that it wasn't only the Hufflepuffs who were acting strangely toward him.
A few minutes later, the trapdoor in the ceiling opened and the silver stepladder came down, and all was silent once more. One by one they entered the classroom.
Harry coughed as he got hit by the wave of heavily perfumed air and felt his head start to spin. Blinking, he tried to shake it off and sat down.
"Hello, class," came a misty voice from nowhere, making everyone jump. Professor Trelawney glided into view, surveying the room.
"Ah, I knew you would jump. We have a lot of work to do. You have gotten out of touch with your Inner Eye. You should have known I would appear just then." She turned her enormous gaze on each face in turn, smiling at Lavender and Parvati when she reached them. Harry lowered his eyes as Professor Trelawney turned to him. He squirmed under her lingering gaze, and raised his eyes to meet her tear-filled ones.
"Oh, Harry," she whispered. "I have seen most terrible things in your future. Your short future."
It was too much. Harry dropped his gaze again, and looked around the room to find everyone else staring at him, too. She always was like this. She couldn't know. Could she? He squirmed again and looked at Ron. He rolled his eyes, lightening the tension for Harry. Harry looked back up at Professor Trelawney, who made a sound as if she were choking back a sob and swiftly turned away.
"Don't listen to her, Harry, you know she's just an old quack," Ron whispered to him encouragingly.
Harry nodded in response, drowsy and deep in thought.
*She can't know that I want to commit suicide. Can she? She can't. There's no way. She's just making stuff up. She's thinking of other possible things... She's just guessing. They're all much more terrible than killing myself... She's just being dramatic. She's always been that way around me, she's always been saying I'm going to die...*
Ron glanced wearily at Harry. His eyes were wide open and glassy, and he looked deep in horrified thought, as though he *had* listened to Trelawney. Ron nudged him. Harry jumped slightly.
"Don't listen to her, Harry," Ron whispered to him again, firmly. Harry swallowed. He nodded.
Harry yawned. He'd been feeling tired lately, and the air in the Divination room certainly wasn't helping any. He watched Professor Trelawney talk about something, but wasn't hearing a word. Everything drifted off into blackness.
*Where am I?* Harry thought. He was in a completely dark room. He let his eyes adjust, and then was only just barely able to see a tall wizard wearing a mask run past him and through a door to his left. He felt compelled to follow.
He had entered a room that was very nearly as dark as the hallway he had just come from. No one noticed that Harry had entered the room. Harry saw Voldemort, standing apart from a small circle of Death Eaters. The room was old and musty, with its heavy velvet curtains closed. The Death Eater who had passed Harry in the hallway was handing something to Voldemort. He smiled, his evil red eyes glowing as Harry's scar suddenly started to burn.
"No... please... don't..." a voice pleaded from the ground near Voldemort's feet. His eyes only seemed to glow brighter.
"*Crucio!*" his high voice screeched, and the room filled with terrible screaming and Harry's scar burned more fiercely still. Abruptly it stopped, and the Death Eaters laughed.
"What are you willing to do?" Voldemort asked icily to the form on the ground. Panting was the only response. "*What are you willing to do?*" Voldemort asked again, more loudly this time.
"I... I..." panted the voice from the ground.
"*Well?*"
"I won't!" panted the figure.
"You won't?" Voldemort whispered dangerously.
"I won't."
"*Crucio!*"
Someone was shaking Harry. He closed his eyes more tightly, afraid to look what he would see.
"Harry, wake up!" There was something familiar about that voice. Harry snapped open his eyes and saw Ron standing over him. It gave him an odd feeling of deja vu.
He looked around the room to see his classmates staring at him, horrified, and Professor Trelawney looking excited. Harry realized why he felt like this had happened before. It had.
He felt... embarrassed. The first lesson of term and it had happened again, he had fallen asleep and had a vision. He didn't want anyone to witness this.
He left. He got up so quickly and went through the trapdoor so fast that one might have missed it had they blinked.
Then he ran, all the way back to Gryffindor tower and his dorm. He closed his eyes, breathing hard, trying and failing to fight back the burning in his eyes. As the tears slid down his face, he didn't quite understand why that dream had caused him such anguish.
Harry shook his head slightly, a pointless gesture, as if he were telling himself not to be upset. He sat down on his bed and ran his hand over his scar. It felt normal now.
Harry couldn't stand it anymore. He took his knife out of his pocket. He kept it close to him as he did his wand now. He couldn't know why, he spent his days trying *not* to cut, although he constantly craved it. But now he needed it. At *least* to cut, if not to do more.
He expertly opened the blade and tugged up his sleeve, holding his wrist up and out in front of him. Harry looked closely at his veins and felt something like a shiver run through him.
Harry brought down the knife and felt the sweet, temporary release.
*************************************************
Ron was walking briskly through the empty corridors of Hogwarts, carrying his bag and Harry's, heading toward the Gryffindor common room.
He entered and looked around. Harry wasn't there. He started up the long spiral staircase, all the way to the top, and opened the door to the fifth year dorms.
He froze. Harry was there. He had his sleeve pulled up and was holding a knife over it, which he brought down and cut his wrist with. It caused a reaction Ron couldn't understand. He looked... relieved?
Ron stood there in the doorway, staring, too shocked and confused to move or speak.
***********************************
"Harry!"
"No, no, I'm sorry, no, no, no," Harry murmured.
"Harry! Wake up!" Harry was shook awake and wearily opened his eyes to face Ron. He opened his mouth as if to say something important, then with a seeming realization closed it.
"You all right?" Ron asked him.
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine," Harry said somewhat distractedly, sitting up.
He discreetly pulled down the left sleeve of his pajamas.
"It's time for breakfast," Ron said.
"Huh? Oh. Right. Okay. I'll be down in a minute." Ron left, leaving Harry alone.
Harry turned to sit on the edge of his bed, and sighed heavily, collapsing, supporting his head in his hands. He'd just had a terrible dream, and it hadn't even been a vision. It was just a dream.
Harry felt so completely overwhelmed. He had no idea what to do with himself for the moment. He needed to plan, he needed to cope, and in the meantime he needed to seem as though everything were fine.
He reached under his mattress and found what he was looking for. He brought it out and slowly pulled up his left sleeve, then opened up the knife.
Harry found an uncut place on his wrist and brought the knife down to it. He pressed down slightly, and dragged the knife across his skin.
He closed his eyes as the stinging shot through him and he savored the pain. It was great and incredible, deeper and more wonderful than he even remembered. As the pain slowly began to fade he opened his eyes to watch himself bleed.
It was amazing. He really loved watching himself bleed, and the strange feeling of peace and comfort that it always brought. After a minute he got up and gently washed it away. He noticed, but it never sunk in how much extra blood there was this time.
Harry got dressed, glad now to have the robes, for they had long sleeves and he felt far more comfortable wearing them than he had at the Weasleys', where he had to wear shirts with long sleeves during the summer, and was living in constant fear of suspicion. He pushed back the left sleeve to look at the cuts once more. The older ones were healing, but he could already tell they would leave a faint scar. He still didn't regret them.
Harry still didn't feel quite ready to go down to breakfast yet. He lay on back on top of his bed and closed his eyes. He felt like he was spinning. He didn't know how long he laid there like that, everything blank and spinning and dark, before the sensation stopped. He opened his eyes. He felt tired. He got up rather slowly, and noiselessly started to head downstairs.
"*There* you are!" Hermione greeted Harry in the entrance hall. She noticed suddenly that Harry looked tired and unusually pale. She shook off the observation for now.
"What took you?" Ron asked.
"Um," said Harry. Ron and Hermione were looking at him expectantly. Harry shrugged. Ron rolled his eyes.
"We brought you some toast," Hermione said, handing it to Harry.
"Oh," he said. "Thank you."
"We got our new schedules," Ron said, handing Harry's to him. "Herbology first. Not bad."
Harry didn't say anything. Herbology was with the Hufflepuffs. With Hufflepuff Cedric Diggory's death and loss of the Triwizard Tournament last year, he expected it to be awkward.
As the three of them approached the greenhouses an odd hush came over the students waiting outside. They noticed, and Ron and Hermione glanced at Harry uneasily. The class abruptly started talking again, more loudly than before.
"I was right then," Harry said under his breath.
***********************************************
"What have we got today?" Harry asked Ron a few days later as they were leaving breakfast.
"Divination." Harry groaned.
"*Why?*" he moaned. Hermione looked smug.
"Yeah, I know, it sucks, doesn't it?" Ron replied.
"You should have dropped it like I did," Hermione said in a superior tone.
"You always tell us that," Ron said.
"Well you should have! Trelawney's an old quack, everyone knows it. Well, maybe not them." She tilted her head toward Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, who were happily running in the direction of the Divination tower. Ron sighed.
"Come on, Harry, let's go." Hermione waved at them with an air of obnoxious superiority as they went their different ways. "This'll be a nightmare."
"It will be awful, at least," Harry said. As bad as Divination was, his nightmares were always at least a hundred times worse.
The three of them got their books, and then Harry and Ron started going to Divination, as Hermione waved goodbye to them in an annoying way on the way to her class. Ron made a face at her.
As they reached the entrance to the Divination classroom, a hush came over the students already assembled there. Harry had realized by now that it wasn't only the Hufflepuffs who were acting strangely toward him.
A few minutes later, the trapdoor in the ceiling opened and the silver stepladder came down, and all was silent once more. One by one they entered the classroom.
Harry coughed as he got hit by the wave of heavily perfumed air and felt his head start to spin. Blinking, he tried to shake it off and sat down.
"Hello, class," came a misty voice from nowhere, making everyone jump. Professor Trelawney glided into view, surveying the room.
"Ah, I knew you would jump. We have a lot of work to do. You have gotten out of touch with your Inner Eye. You should have known I would appear just then." She turned her enormous gaze on each face in turn, smiling at Lavender and Parvati when she reached them. Harry lowered his eyes as Professor Trelawney turned to him. He squirmed under her lingering gaze, and raised his eyes to meet her tear-filled ones.
"Oh, Harry," she whispered. "I have seen most terrible things in your future. Your short future."
It was too much. Harry dropped his gaze again, and looked around the room to find everyone else staring at him, too. She always was like this. She couldn't know. Could she? He squirmed again and looked at Ron. He rolled his eyes, lightening the tension for Harry. Harry looked back up at Professor Trelawney, who made a sound as if she were choking back a sob and swiftly turned away.
"Don't listen to her, Harry, you know she's just an old quack," Ron whispered to him encouragingly.
Harry nodded in response, drowsy and deep in thought.
*She can't know that I want to commit suicide. Can she? She can't. There's no way. She's just making stuff up. She's thinking of other possible things... She's just guessing. They're all much more terrible than killing myself... She's just being dramatic. She's always been that way around me, she's always been saying I'm going to die...*
Ron glanced wearily at Harry. His eyes were wide open and glassy, and he looked deep in horrified thought, as though he *had* listened to Trelawney. Ron nudged him. Harry jumped slightly.
"Don't listen to her, Harry," Ron whispered to him again, firmly. Harry swallowed. He nodded.
Harry yawned. He'd been feeling tired lately, and the air in the Divination room certainly wasn't helping any. He watched Professor Trelawney talk about something, but wasn't hearing a word. Everything drifted off into blackness.
*Where am I?* Harry thought. He was in a completely dark room. He let his eyes adjust, and then was only just barely able to see a tall wizard wearing a mask run past him and through a door to his left. He felt compelled to follow.
He had entered a room that was very nearly as dark as the hallway he had just come from. No one noticed that Harry had entered the room. Harry saw Voldemort, standing apart from a small circle of Death Eaters. The room was old and musty, with its heavy velvet curtains closed. The Death Eater who had passed Harry in the hallway was handing something to Voldemort. He smiled, his evil red eyes glowing as Harry's scar suddenly started to burn.
"No... please... don't..." a voice pleaded from the ground near Voldemort's feet. His eyes only seemed to glow brighter.
"*Crucio!*" his high voice screeched, and the room filled with terrible screaming and Harry's scar burned more fiercely still. Abruptly it stopped, and the Death Eaters laughed.
"What are you willing to do?" Voldemort asked icily to the form on the ground. Panting was the only response. "*What are you willing to do?*" Voldemort asked again, more loudly this time.
"I... I..." panted the voice from the ground.
"*Well?*"
"I won't!" panted the figure.
"You won't?" Voldemort whispered dangerously.
"I won't."
"*Crucio!*"
Someone was shaking Harry. He closed his eyes more tightly, afraid to look what he would see.
"Harry, wake up!" There was something familiar about that voice. Harry snapped open his eyes and saw Ron standing over him. It gave him an odd feeling of deja vu.
He looked around the room to see his classmates staring at him, horrified, and Professor Trelawney looking excited. Harry realized why he felt like this had happened before. It had.
He felt... embarrassed. The first lesson of term and it had happened again, he had fallen asleep and had a vision. He didn't want anyone to witness this.
He left. He got up so quickly and went through the trapdoor so fast that one might have missed it had they blinked.
Then he ran, all the way back to Gryffindor tower and his dorm. He closed his eyes, breathing hard, trying and failing to fight back the burning in his eyes. As the tears slid down his face, he didn't quite understand why that dream had caused him such anguish.
Harry shook his head slightly, a pointless gesture, as if he were telling himself not to be upset. He sat down on his bed and ran his hand over his scar. It felt normal now.
Harry couldn't stand it anymore. He took his knife out of his pocket. He kept it close to him as he did his wand now. He couldn't know why, he spent his days trying *not* to cut, although he constantly craved it. But now he needed it. At *least* to cut, if not to do more.
He expertly opened the blade and tugged up his sleeve, holding his wrist up and out in front of him. Harry looked closely at his veins and felt something like a shiver run through him.
Harry brought down the knife and felt the sweet, temporary release.
*************************************************
Ron was walking briskly through the empty corridors of Hogwarts, carrying his bag and Harry's, heading toward the Gryffindor common room.
He entered and looked around. Harry wasn't there. He started up the long spiral staircase, all the way to the top, and opened the door to the fifth year dorms.
He froze. Harry was there. He had his sleeve pulled up and was holding a knife over it, which he brought down and cut his wrist with. It caused a reaction Ron couldn't understand. He looked... relieved?
Ron stood there in the doorway, staring, too shocked and confused to move or speak.
