Realisation.
Em
Authors note:
I've decided to give you shorter chapters, post one every day. Is that all right? If you want me to post longer chapters but not everyday please say so in your review. Thank you.
Polaris…thank you, your input means a lot. He will eventually go back and I will make sure there is a Harry and Dumbledore moment.
Hippy flower…here you are.
Lady foxfire…I hope that was in a good way and I'm glad I can provoke such emotion.
Aaren…that's really sweet, thank you.
RJLL…I'll make sure that I go into that a bit or a lot, but I'll go into it that's for sure.
Yoj-I-poo…thank you.
Killaria…here we are.
Nicky…thank you. Read to find out.
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 small boy stepped tentatively into the Great Hall of Hogwarts in toe of the headmaster. His small hands cradled the cat in his arms whispering to her that she needn't be afraid of all the stares she was getting. It hadn't occurred to him that all the children were looking at him. No one ever looked at him, not that he really got the chance with his big cousin eclipsing him from view.
The further into the room he stepped, the more aware he became of the vastness of it all. He suddenly felt very, very afraid and thought that if he was scared of such a large space Foo-foo must be even more. So he set about soothing her and in so doing began to reassure himself. The ceiling, well there was no ceiling. Or so he thought. 'Perhaps they dine al-fresco all the time?' he wondered briefly. The floor beneath his feet was dark, polished floorboards and the walls were stone in places carved with many paintings and tapestries hanging from it. Moving paintings. 'Perhaps they're televisions?'
Five crude and rustic tables stood four or them perpendicular to the first, like a comb. Golden cutlery was laid out, glimmering in the sunlight; bowls of food and jugs of drink covered the middle of the tables. The children pointed and whispered in unison as if they were a hive of bees, their pitch getting higher and higher with excitement as time went on. And all the while Harry looked about in wonder as he felt as if he was in a medieval castle from the movies.
"So you've finally decided to join us." Snape sneered as the three reached the teachers table (the one perpendicular to the rest). Luckily all the other members of staff were being kind and as long as Foo-foo was there Harry felt safe.
When he'd sat down an old lady that had previously been babbling about her inner eye turned to him and looked at the cat. Then in the patronizing voice adults adopt when talking to either the stupid or young.
"Hello little one," she paused, "I see that your life will hold much darkness and even, oh my, death." She dramatically put the back of her hand to her forehead and looked distraught before pausing and looking down at the boy for his reaction. He looked scared.
"Codswallop." Snape sneered in distaste. "Absolute codswallop! Never in all my life have I met such an idiotic fraud. Potter here may not be to my liking and God knows how I would like him dead, but never have I ever heard one, not one of your predictions come true." His voice rose higher and higher until every pair of eyes in the great hall was upon him.
"How could I possibly expect a sceptic like you to ever understand the stars? They have turned their back on you and don't think that your fate holds much to be desired." Her voice was uncertain and uneasy and her pitch kept changing.
"They've turned their back on me?" He took in an audible breath. "You're the one who cant prophesise to save their life. You're the one who mumbles on about death and destruction to any that happen to be near and most of these people end up having long and happy lives. And this inner eye nonsense. What inner eye? The only thing that you see are the people in front of you and even then I think that's going!" He stopped abruptly, realising that all the attention was on him. Cursing himself for exploding at the 'woman who has as much inner eye as an inside out wombat' and for actually sticking up for Potter, he left the great hall. The cat in Harry's arms began to snigger? Cats don't snigger, but she did seem very amused.
"Foo-foo, its not nice to laugh at the lady, we'll both get into trouble if you do." He said quietly. Unfortunately the whole hall was still in a stunned silence and his quiet voice resonated throughout the hall. Everyone began to laugh for all present had been introduced to Minerva McGonnagall's animagus form during their first transfiguration lesson. Some of them laughed quietly, because they knew that an angry Foo-foo was not a nice Foo-foo, while others laughed so openly that their sides hurt from the effort of it all. There were only four people in the whole of Hogwarts who weren't laughing.
There was Albus Dumbledore, he did have the familiar amused twinkle in his eyes, but he had noticed the fear in Harry's voice as he chided the cat that he cradled in his arms. 'What possible punishments could a five year old child fear so much?' Then there was Harry himself, because he didn't get what was so funny. Professor Snape, for he had left the hall and then Foo-foo herself, who felt the world crashing all around her. She'd never live this one down. Because of that name her reputation was slowly being ruined. When Harry was back to normal he would pay, if it were the last thing she did.
Of course the normal thing to do would be to walk off, but the jumper was so comfortable and warm and Harry knew exactly where to stroke or scratch her. Content to be angry later she fell asleep to the sound of the now dying down chuckles.
It was after lunch that problems began to arise. Who would look after Harry then? A rota had been sorted out for the days that followed, but they'd forgotten about the rest of the day ad the night. It was then decided that he would go with Madame Pomphrey to the hospital wing. It was with a heavy heart that he walked following the nurse. Foo-foo had left at the end lunch and now he felt vulnerable and scared.
His baggy brown trousers, tied at the waist by a piece of old worn string to stop them falling down. His extremely over large grey jumper that not only went down to his it ankles, had sleeves so long they trailed onto the floor and a neck hole so large and stretched it sloped off of one of his shoulders, it had patches so worn that you could see his red, mismatched, dirty t-shirt underneath as well as many holes varying from small to extremely large and now hundreds and hundreds of cat hairs. Suffice as to say he'd never looked more out of place in the bright white, tidy and clean hospital wing. Rows and rows of beds lined up against the walls. Each with pristine white sheets and a small white painted wooden cupboard to the side. Each cupboard had a jug for water, a white porcelain washbasin and a set of white pyjamas.
Large windows that would normally let copious amounts of sunlight were set in the walls and two other doors led off. One was apparently to an office, the other to a walk in cupboard of supplies.
"Here we are." She stated jovially. "Pick a bed to sleep on, it's high time you had a nap." A nap? Harry had never been permitted to nap. Dudley had had them all the time, waking up only for one of his favourite television programmes. Gingerly he made his way to a bed. The one closest to the door and he lay down on top of the sheets. He only had a mattress at home during the summer and during only the coldest winter months was he allowed a small sheet that Dudley had once thrown up on during the night and didn't want it anymore. It was blue, Harry remembered, with a greenish tint from where it was stained. The nurse was a bit startled by Harry's hesitant behaviour, but showed none of it. Closing the large white curtains and removing, mending and putting down his cello taped glasses, she went into her office to work.
It was a while before he stirred, because no one had woken him. He sat up and fumbled around for his glasses, dazed by the white he blinked furiously a few times and got up. His Aunt would be furious that he wasn't in his cupboard and even more so when she finds out that he was sleeping.
The door to the office opened and he hastily lay back down feigning sleep.
"Good afternoon Harry." She smiled. The smile vanished however when he got up and she noticed all the dirt from his clothes had ruined her pristine white sheets. "When was the last time you had a bath?" She asked, unsuccessfully hiding her frustration at him for dirtying the bed sheets. The small boy dropped his gaze to the floor, shaking slightly shaking at what was to come.
"I…I…I c...c…c…can't r…r…remember." His voice trembled slightly, but held a hint of his future self, the proud, brave and commanding voice that over the years would blossom. He just needed to be sure of himself, believe that he was right and above all believe that people loved him. The five-year-old Harry Potter held none of these traits…yet. It was then that the nurses expression softened, she couldn't quite understand how the Harry she knew and this boy in front of her were so different and yet the same. A quick brainwave and becoming resolute in her decision she decided to give him a bath. Throw away the disgusting clothes and get him some new ones.
"Its alright. Would you like one?" she asked and then the transformation of Harry begun.
It was a much cleaner and happier boy that went to sleep that night. This time under the covers.
Madame Pomphrey however wasn't asleep; she was sat at her desk thinking about the day's events. 'What could have made a boy so quiet, so apologetic, so afraid?' She had a rough idea, but was in denial, 'they didn't, did they?' It was the thought of how odd it was that Minerva requested to have Harry's jumper that she finally fell asleep to.
Thus ends the third instalment.
Thank you for your time.
