Harry Potter and the Test

Chapter 8





I paced back and forth in front of the fire, back and forth. The fire blazed, heating the entire room and causing me to break out into a sweat. My shadow danced along the walls, almost a perfect expression of my dismal situation and how little light there currently was within my soul. My feet still felt cold as I walked on the stone, causing a strange clash between thermal forces.

Harry sat in the armchair, watching my futile attempt to wear a track into the floor. His eyes followed me for a while, but had probably had given up after a few minutes. He knew I had something to say, but decided to wait until I was ready.

Paused, I tried to speak, but nothing came out. I simply stood, my elbow resting on the mantle, giving me much needed support. I tried again.

"Harry, I've lost a lot in the past few days."

He cleared his throat, once more focusing on me.

"I know, Adam," he replied, with a hoarse voice.

He slumped in the chair slightly, letting the friction between his clothes and the fabric on the chair hold him up, rather than his own will. Harry looked at me with caring eyes, trying to understand what I was feeling at the moment.

"God," I began, pounding the stone with my fist, "I cannot believe how big of an ass I am. How could everything that.that was going so well.go so wrong?"

"I don't know. They were just the right things to do at the wrong time," he answered vaguely.

"I guess I should have warned you about Hermione and Ron."

"It would have helped." I didn't blame him, but I also wished that he would have taken the initiative to inform me. I was new to his world; he should have given me a tour.

"Do you truly care for her?" he quipped, staring into the flames.

I thought for a moment, peering into the flickering light as well, searching for an answer within the unforgiving inferno.

"Yes. I do."

Harry mulled over my reply, clasping his hands together and resting a chin on them.

"Then you did nothing wrong."

I nodded, appreciating his conclusion.

"Expect for the journal thing."

"Yeah, that wasn't the best move possible," I agreed.

We remained silent for a few moments.

"I really didn't like doing that to Ron."

"I know, Adam. I don't like it either. He's pretty bummed, and I don't like to see my friends down. But, when it deals with matters of the heart, I'm not the best one to judge," he said, smiling weakly.

"Will he ever talk to me again?" Ron and Hermione hadn't spoken to me for months. I was depressed over the whole matter. Everyday, I would pass by them in the halls and sit next to them in class, but it was as if they weren't even there. No eye contact, no spoken words, no gestures; I was exiled, forever forbade from setting foot in my home. Once more, I was an outsider, but one who was thrown out, with little hope of ever getting back to where I came from. Harry was my only close friend I had. However, as I knew, there was much more than friendship between us.

"And Hermione?" I asked, open-endedly.

"She.she's really torn over it all, Adam. She cares for you, but she also cares for Ron. Not in quite the same way, but they have been through a lot, and for you to do that to Ron.well." He let the words drop off, deciding to rub the palms of his hands together rather than speak further.

"Harry, I'm so lost."

"Stick with it, Adam." He stood up and strolled over to the base of the stairs which led up to the boys' dorms.

"Why do you still stand by me?" I asked him as he walked away.

He stopped and turned, facing me.

"For the same reason you do: we're all brothers. We have to stick up for each other, through thick and thin." With that, he turned back to the stairs and began to ascend them, one by one.

"You don't know how true that is." My words groped through the dark, and managed to find him. I couldn't see him any longer, but I heard his footsteps pause perhaps halfway up the staircase. I could almost hear him listening to me, intently.

"What do you mean by that?" he called out, almost growling as he spoke.

"Ever get a feeling that it's your job to watch over someone else?" I asked.

As if in response, he came back down the stairs and I soon saw him. He approached me slowly, deciding to sit down in a chair which faced me. I remained standing, trying to gather myself for the blow that was about to come.

"What do you mean by that?" In his eyes, I could see how frightened he was, almost as if someone had thrown a fork into his journey and he now had to choose which way to go. Either direction would decide how the rest of his life would proceed. However, this decision was out of his hands, something he wasn't used to.

"Harry, I have lost everyone here that means anything to me. With what I'm about to say, I think I might lose you too." It pained me to do this, but I figured that if I didn't have honestly going for me, what did I have? Maybe this would make the two of us closer; maybe it would push us apart.

Honesty didn't appear to enjoy my company lately.

"What is it?" He was growing impatient; his voice sounded slightly irritated, not enjoying that fact that he wasn't commanding the situation, over something he knew would affect him forever. It only needed to be said.

"Harry, I think I'm your brother."

I could almost see the words sink it. For a moment, he sat, expressionless, but slowly, he reacted. Confusion ran amuck with his facial features. Looking up at me, he appeared to be halfway between shouting and crying. Not knowing what to make of it, I simply stood, and waited.

"You're what?"

"I think I'm your older brother. I saw what looked to be my parents in the Mirror of Erised. The parents I saw matched the picture of your parents. Plus, when I saw them, I was born but mom was pregnant. In your picture, it's just you." My attempts to rationalize the matter were useless; this wasn't a topic that could be fixed with numbers or equations; it was something that dealt solely with the heart.

"I'm.I.geez." he said, clutching his chest. Droplets of perspiration became visible on the back of his hands, gleaming in the light cast out of the fireplace.

"I thought I should tell you. It's been eating it me."

Harry didn't reply. Head hanging low, he sat, trying to catch his breath, shifting his gaze from side to side, almost like a madman.

"Harry." I pleaded, trying to get his attention.

He mumbled something, undetectable.

"Say something."

Abruptly, he snapped his head up and stared at me. His gaze wasn't unkind, but not warm either. His demeanor frightened me a tad, and I took a step back.

"You're my brother?" he asked, his voice faltering. Tears began to well up in his eyes and his voice became chocked with emotion.

I stood still, trying to gauge his reaction. Moving as little as possible, I nodded slightly, not breaking the line of sight between us.

"Wow." Running a hand through his dark, untidy hair, I saw the lighting bolt scar which graced his forehead. Teardrops ran down his rosy cheeks, forming tiny rivulets. He cleared his throat again, speechless.

"I don't know how it happened. I don't think I was there for the.the." I stopped as well, becoming wrapped up with emotion. All I could do to make my argument was to point at the mark he bore. Starring up, he understood my message and began to gaze at his lap again.

"They must have sent me off, sensing what was.to come. I don't know too much, like always."

"Yeah.yeah." he replied. Unable to take in all the new information, his shoulders shook. Without any further ado, he stood up and walked off to the stairs. Not bothering to look back, he merely shook his as he placed one foot on the bottom stair.

It was all over.







"Ah, Adam; you're in quite a spot," Hagrid admitted, setting a cup of tea in front of me on the small wooden table. Fang slept in the chair behind me, growling softly as he dreamt.

"Yeah, to put it mildly." I put a tablespoon of honey in the cup and stirred continuously, not able to do anything else with my hands.

"Here's the way I see it. You were honest; above all, you were truthful to those around you. It just so happened that they didn't want to hear it." He took a swig from the massive mug that he gripped in his fingers. Sighing, I could see that I wasn't the only one with a lot on my mind.

"They're gonna have to shut the school down," he said, as if he had been holding the words inside for ages, and was now relieved to speak the unspeakable.

"WHAT?!? They can't do that! Why?"

"It's unsafe for students, Adam. Fights break out everyday, nobody is learning, nobody feels safe; it's not the way a school should be."

"But can they shut it down? Why haven't they fixed it? Why can't they fix it?" I was now standing up, leaning on the table, held up by clenched fists.

"No one knows why this is going on; you can't fix what you don't even understand, Adam." Hagrid looked wistfully out the steamed window, as if he was remembering past days, ones filled with less trouble and terror.

"I would stay, through anything."

"I know, Adam, but it's not up to you."

"Then who is it up to?"

"Dumbledore. He's been trying to wait this out, but nothing has gotten better, only worse." He added some more hot water to both of our cups. I sat somberly, nursing the beverage, making it last as long as possible.

'Something wasn't right; something didn't fit.'

"I've lost a lot of friends, Hagrid: Ron, Hermione, Harry."

"Everyone is losing friends, and the fact is that friendship is what holds Hogwarts' together; once that glue is gone, Hogwarts' might as well close." I could see tears of sorrow form in his eyes, nearly camouflaged by the whimsical smile which graced his lips.

I kept my eyes on the mug, studying the swirling pattern the tea made as I ran my spoon through it. Spiraling into the center, like a tornado, I watched as calm liquid was pushed into the action; a force which was once a small ripple, was now causing every tea atom to twirl around the cup, trying to find a place to rest.

"That's it," I said, without inflection, into my mug.

"What's it?"

"I know why this is happening."

"You do?" he asked, his dormant elation now revived.

"Yeah, I do." I grabbed my cloak and fastened it around my shoulders, preparing to trudge back into the chilly February morning which was upon us.

"Adam? What is it? What is causing this?"

With the doorknob in my hand, I looked over my shoulder at Hagrid.

"Not what, Hagrid, but whom."







I flew around the edges of the stadium, bat in hand. The game was proceeding, but its progression was far from normal. Matching the mood, a dark cloud hung low over us, so close to the ground that Harry was nearly flying through it.

After the talk with Hagrid earlier that day, my head was swimming. I didn't look at things that way I did before. Everything was subjected to my suspicious gaze, I trusted nothing anymore. I didn't give anything my full attention; during class I was so focused on my own thoughts that I didn't even realize when the class had ended. I didn't bother to eat and even Quidditch, something that usually made me well up with passion, was a chore now. I need time to think; this was not the place I desired to be.

The whole time I pondered and worried and surmised, one name occupied the tip of my tongue:

'Voldemort.'

It had to be him behind all this, I though. Friendships were the glue that held the school together, but somehow, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had managed to melt that bond, and was reveling in the destruction which was Hogwarts'. Unless he was stopped, the school would be close within a week.

The bludger flew by me, and I took off after it. With little emotion, I smacked it back, away from Alicia. She smiled, but I just continued on, offering no response. Still on its tail, I followed the bludger up into the sky, heading for the grey mass which cast a long, dark shadow over all the attendees. Climbing higher and higher, I neared the spot where Harry and Malfoy sat, perched on their sticks, prepared for the moment when their services would be needed.

"Hey, Adam! Who's gonna back you up now? Where are your friends now?" Malfoy cackled, laughing menacingly in my direction. Searching for help, I looked in Harry's direction. Our eyes met, but nothing else connected. He averted his gaze, an action which subjected me to even more of Malfoy's laughter. Not knowing what else to do, I descended, following my bludger away from the two seekers.

The match continued on, but Slytherin clearly had control of the game. Our hearts weren't in it; the unstoppable alliance of Adam and Harry was gone, decimated, dissolved and with that destruction, we were left vulnerable; not that we were the only two players on the teams, but we were the one consistent thing on the squad. Harry and I could always be counted on to pull through, but with the recent events, that once trusty duo was no more and the whole team needed to reassess where they stood; a game against Slytherin was not what team Gryffindor needed at the moment.

Every so often, I would look into the stand, unceasingly searching for Ron and Hermione, but they were no where to be found. All the banners which had once cheered me on where non-existent and the audience hardly seemed to notice me; whenever I passed a section of the bleachers, they would look away and focus on another player, as if watching me would turn them to pillars of salt. Normally, I wouldn't have been irritated by such a treatment, but without Ron and Hermione there, everything seemed wrong and out of place.

Cheers began to escape the mouths of the fans. The celebrating was not coming from the Gryffindor bleachers, though. Nearby, I could see Slytherin fans screaming with glee, while faces of dejection and disappointment belonged to those with the maroon and gold scarves. I didn't even need look up; I knew which hand held the Snitch. The fans had already revealed the victor and rejected the defeated.

The game was over, but the war wasn't nearly finished.

Anyone would have thought it to be a rush of air, but I knew what that characteristic sound really was. It grew louder and louder as it neared me, an arrow seeking the bull's eye. Sensing my demise, I almost welcomed it. Sitting vigilant on my broom, I made no attempt to dodge it or get out of the bludger's path; after all, I had little reason to. If the ball wanted to take me out, it would be doing the school a service.

Ron and Harry and Hermione could go back to having their friendships, the Quidditch squad would find a replacement and Dumbledore would have one less grey hair to worry about. Basically, take me out of the picture and normalcy would be restored.

I was the one factor that the school didn't need.

At first, it felt like someone was laying a hand on my left shoulder. Its tenderness soon escalated, though, to more of a driving force, like it was trying to push me away, off my broom, and out of the arena. Soon, the pushing became a drilling, and my shoulder began to ache, but I almost enjoyed the pain.

'Just end it,' I thought.

A burning, searing pain radiated from my shoulder, down my arm and into my torso. Reaching the muscles which surrounded my lungs, they seized up, knocking what air I had in me out. My other arm, guided by involuntary forces, grabbed my shoulder, trying to save what was left. All of this was to no avail.

'I can save them.but why?' was all I thought, over and over as the bludger continued to impale me.

I could feel my bones crack and shatter, but I didn't even wince. The pain was almost comforting, the one constant in my life, the one thing I knew I could always rely on. I had no real parents, I had no friends, I didn't have a brother. On my own, pain was my only companion in the long depressing trek called 'life'.

Its job finished, the ball continued in a straight path down to the ground, the game over.

'Hadn't the game ended before I was hit?'

I glanced behind me, to see one of the Slytherin beaters smiling wickedly with Malfoy at his side, enjoying the show as well.

My lower lip quivered. Slowly and uncontrollably, I slipped off my broom and careened towards the earth. Falling through the air, seconds passed like minutes. I could see the individual faces focused on me, mouths open, shocked at how far on man could fall, from peak to base.

I hit the ground with a sickening 'thud'. All I could feel was the crunching of my bones, unable to overcome the earth's force and losing to it in a grand fashion.

Lying there, I could see raindrops began to fall from the sky. One landed in my eye, and I blinked. I wasn't crying, or gasping, or moaning. The stadium was silent and the only sound I could hear was the beating of my heart and the pulsing of the arteries in my ears. Still staring up into the sky, examining the cloud in all its pallor, I closed my eyes.

"I can save them," I whispered.

With that, I blacked out.