Realisation.
Em
Authors note:
Here's the second instalment. Sorry it's a little short. It would have been longer but as I was writing I realised that where I was at would sound like a lovely ending. If I wasn't so tired last night these two chapters would have been one. Anyway I wont prattle on.
Hippy flower…I have posted soon.
Anneliese…I'm glad you find it interesting.
Kelly…thankyou and I have.
Laurelgand…I smiled when I read your review. I hope this lives up to your expectations.
Lady Foxfire…Thankyou.
Tidmag…well you'll have to find out by reading. The mirror is supposed to change the person temporarily into their younger self. It is as if a five-year-old Harry has been taken from his Aunt and Uncles house as in physical appearance, clothes and memory. He does however age. Normally the person would only age a few minutes max and when they pop back retain those memories very fresh in their mind. As in their confusedness, thoughts feelings, so the exercise therefore means that they learn more about themselves. Does this make sense? If you still don't understand or I haven't explained right just tell me.
MidnightDragon…Thank you.
Nicky…Thank you.
Lily…here you are.
Killaria…I'm glad you think so. Thank you, you've made me go all warm inside.
Catspook…Thank you. In answer…wait and see.
Disclaimer:
I am not the owner of any of the characters or any of the places. As many fanfic authors say, I am just taking them all for a spin. The characters and their personalities were made up by the renowned JKR. Whom I'm sure you're all familiar with.
The adults were taking their time to discuss what to do. Malfoy had long been dismissed to go to his next lesson and for this Harry was relieved. Yet he was getting very tired. He wanted to sit, but knew that without permission he would get into trouble and if he asked if he could sit down he'd probably be punished. No, it was better to just quietly stand, the last four years of Harry's life taught him to stay in the shadows, therefore he would. Unnoticed meant he wouldn't get into trouble. Perhaps that was why he'd grown to like his cupboard. He felt secure there, unlike when he was in the garden. He shuddered involuntarily at some of the most recent escapades Dudley had embarked on, most of them resulting in cuts and bruises all over Harry.
Unfortunately the adults noticed his shuddering and he suddenly had their undivided attention. 'Uh-Oh' he thought to himself as his empty stomach churned from fear. He was absolutely petrified about what they would do to him, even though he didn't show it. The sour faced man sneered.
"What is it Potter?" He asked, irritation and disgust apparent in his voice. It was then that Harry's brave demeanour began to crumble, just a little, but crumble none the less.
"N…n…nothing, I…I…I'm s…s…s…sorry." He finally managed to get out as he frantically searched for some way of escape. It was obvious to Harry that this man had been talking to his uncle and knew exactly how worthless he was. His eyes finally rested on the window. It was slightly open, just enough to let him through, but not the others and just outside was a thin ledge. He looked to the ground before him. A golden patch of light was illuminated on the red carpet along with a few squares of red in a checker like pattern from where the small top pane of glass was so old that it was made up of little squares. Some of which were painted red. The light itself was his pathway and as the sneering man asked him again, loader than before. He ran for it.
If he'd looked back he would have seen the looks of utter shock mark the professors' faces as their eyes widened and in some cases their jaws dropped, each to varying degrees. Even Dumbledore hadn't expected the little five-year-old Harry to go belting out of a window just because Snape asked him a question. Then again the poor child was probably scared to death and Snape was a menacing sort of character. But it was Harry Potter, Mr brave and strong. He'd defeated Voldemort for Gods sake!
Harry on the other hand was now stood on the ledge, heart beating rapidly, yet feeling very relieved. He'd escaped. He shakily edged along the ledge and ignoring the fatigue that enveloped him from exhaustion and malnourishment, he went on. After a few minutes he reached a bit of flat roof and sat down. Bliss. The wind was licking at his face in a most refreshing manner, no doubt making his hair even messier. 'Aunt Petunia is going to kill me!' He thought frantically, but then reminded himself that she didn't like heights and so wouldn't be able to find him. The roof however was elegantly carved stone. Some of it was in a Celtic design, some art Nouvou. Either way it was beautiful and so was the view. A glassy lake mirrored the grey cloudy sky above, bits of gold sparkled on it from places where the clouds were more broken up. A forest of sorts was in the distance, a mist hung in that area, making it look foreboding and mysterious. Harry didn't know whether he wanted to explore or run away.
He sighed and looked at his hands, they were covered in bits of grit that had embedded itself in them. He brushed his hands together. It was then and only then that he looked back.
A little tabby cat with intelligent eyes was walking towards him. Her tail held high and straight. Rigid almost, against the wind.
"Hello kitty." He said. He'd always found friends in animals and Mrs Figg's cats were some of his best, even though he didn't like spending hours pouring over pictures. "My names Harry. I'm going to call you Foo-foo. You look like a Foo-foo." With that he picked her up and cuddled her, much to the cats protest. The cat however, wasn't actually a cat. It was Minerva McGonnagall, a now very disgruntled McGonnagall, because being called Foo-foo and being squeezed to death in a tight hug was not something she exactly liked. Unfortunately Dumbledore had ordered her to go out and coax Harry back in. Hence transfiguring herself into her animagus form…a cat. "Do they not like you either?" He asked when he carefully put her down. He only got a mew in response and a slightly tilted head.
A big gust of wind blew at them from behind, ruffling up Foo-foo's fur and making them both shiver. Harry smoothed down her fur and without a second thought took his (or rather Dudley's) very large and very old jumper off and wrapped her in it. "There you go. Its got a few holes, but its so big it ought to keep you warm." The cat purred gratefully, but in her eyes there was something more. Sadness? Perhaps. Perhaps not. Either way it was a foreign sight to see such raw emotion in a cat. "You know, I'm really scared." He paused and brought his legs closer towards him, resting his chin on his knees. This was something he did. He'd talk to animals about his problems and feelings. They couldn't tell anyone, right? Therefore he'd end up feeling better that someone, something else knew what he was going through and at the same time safe, with the knowledge that his deepest thoughts and feelings wouldn't be shared with anyone else. Dudley for one. He couldn't bare it if Dudley ever found out; he already taunted him enough as it was.
The cats head shot up. Minerva never ever, not in her wildest dreams expected Harry Potter, the boy who lived, saviour of the magical world, hero to most and one of the bravest wizards she knew to ever, ever say he was scared. "One minute I was in my cupboard and now I'm not. My uncle is going to kill me if I don't get back, I've already been locked in my cupboard for weeks and they haven't fed me for a few days. Today though, today was my last day of punishment and if I'm not there he'll hit the roof." He stopped speaking and began rocking slowly backwards and forwards as if to comfort himself. 'Well of course he's comforting himself, he's probably had no-one to comfort him his entire life.' She chided herself when she had first thought it strange. "And now I've gone and angered these people, if my uncle finds out." He began again, but couldn't finish. Couldn't. Images of when his next-door neighbour had complained about Harry accidentally getting her wet over the hedge when he watered the garden came back to haunt him. He shut his eyes tightly, willing no tears to come. The cat nuzzled her head against his leg, reassuring him.
A little while had passed in silence until he stopped rocking. Opening his eyes he looked around. He was still there. So was the cat. Carefully he picked her up, careful not to wake her from her feline dose and went back along the windowsill and into the office. Only the old man named Dumbledore was still there.
He looked up as they went in.
"Ah Harry, I see you've made a friend." He said. If Harry had looked up from the ground he would of seen a smile form beneath the long silver beard the man had and a twinkle in his deep blue eyes, like sunshine glittering on water.
"Yes sir." He mumbled into the cats fur. "Her names Foo-foo." At that remark the man chuckled. Harry's head snapped up and Dumbledore expected for him to remark indignantly 'What's wrong with Foo-foo?" Of course the old man was to find out that he wasn't as wise as he was thought to be, because Harry surprised him again. "Y…y…you're not m...mad?" This time though he didn't look back down again because his eyes had caught the warmth that was admitted from the man before him.
"Mad. Why would I be mad?" He asked.
"I…I…I r…ran o…o…off s…so y…y…you c…couldn't catch m…m…me." He stuttered, lowering his gaze with each word he managed to get out. His face was now a deathly white and he feared that the old man had decided to lull him in a false sense of security so that the beating was a surprise and therefore worse. His Uncle had used this tactic a few times, because a surprise attack meant that Harry didn't have a chance in hell of getting away and that it hurt him mentally more. A stab in the back, so to say.
It was at this moment that McGonnagall or Foo-foo (as the staff would end up calling her for many years to come) decided to wake up. She blinked contentedly a couple of times and then lay back down against Harry's chest as if she'd forgotten why she was there or was so comfortable that she was pretending to forget. The big, old and torn jumper was wrapped around her like a big downy duvet and Harry's careful strokes under her chin probably sent her to heaven and back again. She purred.
"I'm not mad." Dumbledore said, his voice a little sad that he had to convince the little boy in front of him. "Really I'm not." Then he chuckled to himself at the pun. Most children attending Hogwarts and their parents thought he was a bit batty. Harry began to look up but stopped halfway. Making his forehead much more prominent and his scar much more visible. His great big glossy green eyes peered up through his disorderly fringe.
"Promise?" He asked, his voice so soft that it was barely heard.
"I promise." With that said Harry looked up fully and carefully placed Foo-foo down on a nearby chair. It was as if she was his security blanket, but for the time being he didn't need her any more. Either that or he was too tired to carry the heavy lump. With some form of trust gained the old man decided to coax the boy to sit down, but instead of saying anything he reached out to place his hand on the boy's shoulder, so as to guide him.
Startled, Harry moved away and as Dumbledore persisted and finally got a hold of his shoulder, he flinched under the touch. "Remember I promised." He got a hesitant nod in response. "That means that I'm not going to punish you. Alright?" A more fervent nod came this time, but when it stopped what Harry then said came as such a shock to the old wizard that the smile on his face vanished.
"I…its j…j…just Uncle Vernon breaks h…h…his promises and hits me anyway." Then he clasped his hand to his mouth realising what he had just said. Hoping he wouldn't get into trouble.
"Don't worry. Your Uncle is never ever going near you again. I promise, I really do." Dumbledore spoke slowly sincerely and with a serious look on his face and he meant every single word. Harry relaxed and sat down as the old man began to tell him what was going to happen and for the first time in four years a small smile crept onto his face.
I thought I'd finish it here. I feel such a hypocrite; its just it felt like it should end there. I'd also like to mention a wonderful author… Nomad. Who is my favourite author of a series…yes, a series. They're all called Conspiracy of silence and are then separated into smaller headings. The first is called 'Conspiracy of silence: first impressions. They are all about Snape's school years and are written really well.
Thank you for your time.
