Title: Musings of A Tired Mind
Author: Remii
Disclaimer: Mm. My favorite part: the LEGAL CRAP. Sadly, I don't own Harry Potter of any of its wonderful character... T_T They belong to the amazingly talented J.K. Rowling. I do, however, own this story and any made- up spells or characters, so I'd appreciate it if you would ask before 'borrowing' them.
Warning: Well, the beginning starts out slow, so I'll dub it PG-13 for now, seeing as how it might progress in the future. ^_~
Eye Catching Blurb: We all know wizards are the higher power..but what if there was an even higher power that could control the outcome of our fate just by some simple words? And what does the renowned boy Harry Potter have to do with it all? Pasts will be exposed. Dreams will be foretold. But what's the big deal? Not like anyone gives a shit anyway. Welcome to Hogwarts.
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I'd like to give a special thanks to those of you who are still with me. I'm so sorry this took so long. I never intended to take such a long time to update. And I can't even give you a good excuse! I just..lost my muse. And I'm not sure if it's returned yet. This chapter I scraped together quickly enough, after getting your review, Jinx. So I'd like to give a REALLY big hug and kisses to you, Jinx, for finally smashing me in my head and getting me to finish writing this chapter. Hopefully, I will never take this long to write again!
I'd also like to say, bear with me..for this chapter hasn't been beta-ed. **************************************************************************** **********
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Chapter Seven: Signs of Seriousness
Ron hated Potions. Not just Potions, but also Snape. Hate. Hate hate hate. Ron twiddled his thumbs under the desk. If Hermione werent there, he would have ended his life long ago. It was so boring! Snape wrote on the bored; they took notes. Snape sneered; they twitched in their seats. Snape smiled; they fainted. Snape. That stupid greasy git. Hate wasnt a good enough word, Ron realized. He needed something more powerful. Something that captured the essence of his feelings. Like...despise! No. Not good enough. Hm. Detest. Loathe. Abhor. Execrate....
Snape looked up to watch Ron staring intently at his noted. Ron actually looked like he was trying to find an answer to Snapes question! The horror. 'I must rectify this horrible turn of events,' Snape thought.
"Weasley!" He snapped. "Could you tell the class of the key component that should be added to complete the nail growth potion? Hm?"
Ron cringed and looked up. Since Harry had been kept in the hospital the past five days, Snape was relentless without his 'favorite' student to pick on. Ron skimmed the classroom, praying for a savior. He caught Draco's smirk and frowned. Draco then scribbled something on a piece of parchment and held it up.
'Rat's tail,' it read. 'Should I trust him? Oh what the hell,' thought Ron. "Rat's tail," he announced. Snape's smirk disappeared. He whiped around and looked at the faces of the innocent-looking Slytherins. This was horrible. A Weasley got an answer right. A Ron Weasley. Must ask another question!
"Very good, Weasley. Now tell me, what is the preferred rat to be used?" Snapes smirk returned as he saw Ron pale.
"Uh.."
Ron quickly glanced at Draco to see him already scribbling an answer. Draco held it up quickly before putting it away.
"Er...Fire Rats, sir, who can be found in the depths of Gringotts Bank."
Snape glared menicingly at Ron before turning around faster than anyone could blink.
"Who's telling him?!" he demanded to the startled Slytherins. "WELL?!" Frustrated at the lack of replies, Snape went back to the front of the classroom in a twirl of robes.
"Five points to Gryffindor," he muttered under his breath.
Just then, the door creaked open and Harry walking into the drastically quiet classroom. He felt all eyes on himself as he walked to the front to present Snape with a letter. Whispers were heard throughout the room. This was the first time Harry was making his presence known outside of the hospital ward. A girl from Gryffindor let out an excited gasp when she looked to Harry. He had no glasses on! She then turned to her partner and talked animatedly of his new look, irking Snape.
Snape snatched the letter from his hand and quickly skimmed it, his eyes widening from shock and settling into a glare. Harry hoped the paper wouldnt catch fire. He knew Dumbledore wanted a reply.
"Very well," said Snape, grabbing a pen to write his answer. "Potter, you are to stay after class. Weasley--" Ron shot up in his seat-- "you will inform your next teachers that Potter will not be attending class. Is this clear?"
"Yes, sir," Ron chirped, earning a glare from Snape and a sigh from Hermione.
She really wanted to ask Harry a million questions. Most of them about his summer. She knew something must have happened, because she had overheard Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore talking of it. What exactly did Harry do this summer? She hated having questions that books couldn't answer.
Moments later, Harry took the empty seat next to Pansy Parkison, who scooted as far away from his as she could. However, Pansy need not fear her twisted fate, sitting next to Potter of all people, for the class ended three minuted later. A letter dropped into Harry's lap as the crowd rushed to get out of the Potions classroom.
Probably Hermione deperate for answers, Harry laughed.
Once the students had filed out, Snape called Harry to his desk. Tucking the note in his pocket, Harry approached the desk with caution.
"Sometime this decade, Potter," Snape sneered. "Best get this over and done with."
"Er...yes, sir." Harry sat down across from Snape.
"You still have headaches."
"Yes, sir."
"And are often tired with a lack of energy."
"Yes, sir."
"And I'm to make you a potion to rectify these...malfunctions?"
"I believe that's what Professor Dumbledore wrote asking, sir."
"Very well. It will be done tonight. See me after dinner."
"Yes, sir."
Snape wrote a reply on Dumbledore's note. When he finished, he pulled out another piece of parchment and wrote another letter.
"You are to take this to Professor Sprout. She will have some ingredients I'll need."
"Yes, sir."
Snape shifted some papers on his desk, looking for something specific. Moments later he realized that Harry was still sitting across from him.
"Go to class. NOW," Snape yelled.
"Yes, sir!" Harry scrambeled up from his seat, all but running to the door. He reached the doornob when Snape cleared his throat. Harry turned around.
Snape smiled evily and gestured to the seat Harry had been sitting in.
Harry ran back over and clumsly pushed the seat back into place.
"NOW."
Harry darted out of the room, glad to be away from Snape, yet thankful no housepoints were taken. He hated Potions. Specifically Snape. Hate. Hate hate hate.
* * *
What did he have now? Ah, Herbology, yes. Harry liked that class. It was relaxing, rarely stressful. Ron had informed him that they were now learning about Shrewts. Little cabbage-like plants that took seven days to grow. After they are complete adults, they're pulled from the ground. However, you only had a minute to open them up and to get the purple core inside until the plant dried out and died, leaving it utterly useless. The purple core was a key ingredient in many potions to cure minor illnesses, specifically used in headaches potions. Leave it to Snape to know that Professor Sprout was now focusing the class on Shrewts.
Harry turned down the corridor, coming to the main hall and enterance into Hogwarts. He reached for the doorknob when his step wobbled, his breathing growing erratic.
"Oh please, not another dizzy spell," he pleaded with himself. He leaned against the cool wall, hoping it would pass. The cold did some good, for his headache soon died down to a little thumping in the back of his head. As it faded and he regained his senses, his head started to pound painfully once more.
"Please...not now..."
Moaning in pain, his eyesight turned to black and he stumbled to reach the door to grasp onto something. The throbbing increased tenfold, splitting his head in two. Harry cried out, gripping his head between his hands.
"Harry!" he heard someone call out, right before blackness claimed him.
* * *
Sohrae looked up and down the hallway before settling on the unconcious Harry. Aw, crap. She looked up and down the hall once more, just to reassure herselve that no one was around. Closing her eyes, she extended her arms to Harry.
Focusing, she concentrated on making him light as a feather. As soon as she was sure she had completed the spell, she made to lift him into her arms. Success! Sohrae sighed in relief, thankful that her spells, for once, hadnt gone haywire.
She all but ran to the hospital ward, checking once in awhile to make sure that Harry hadnt gotten worse on the way. When she arrived, she kicked open the door calling to Madam Pomfrey.
"Dear me, what happened?" Madam Pomfrey asked as she rushed over to Sohrae.
"I found him passed out in the corridor while on my way to see Dumbledore," Sohrae explained. "He was clutching his head."
"I see. Lay him right here," Madam Pomfrey said, indicating to a bed.
Sohrae carefully laid him down and pulled a chair over to the bed. "Do you mind if I stay until he wakes?" she asked.
Madam Pomfrey hesitated only a second before giving her consent. She then retrieved a towel and bowl of cool water. "His cheeks are flushed. Mind keeping his forehead cool until he wakes?"
"Not at all," Sohrae replied, a bit excited at taking care of Harry.
"I'll inform Dumbledore of Harry and your presence here and deliver this note to Professor Sprout," she said, picking the note up from the ground and reading to it was who. "Call to me immediately if anything happens." She then left the room.
Sohrae dipped the towel in the bowl of water and wrang it out. She smoothed Harry's bangs from his forehead and gently wiped his face. She then re-wetted it and place it on Harry's forehead. Her fingers didnt leave his face, however. They played over his cheekbones, then outlined his nose and trailed down to gently flitter over his lips. She smiled when she noticed that he wasnt wearing his glasses anymore. He looked so much better.
When Hermione, Ron, and herself had visited Harry after his talk with Dumbledore the next day, they figured he had just woken up and not put them on. He informed them, though, that he had realized that he didnt need them anymore the next morning. Funny enough, he hadnt noticed he wasnt wearing them the night before when he was looking around the room, and everything was in focus. He had called Madam Pomfrey over quickly, a bit worried about what this meant. She checked his eyes, but found nothing wrong, pronouncing them naturally healed. How? he didnt know. But he sort of liked the change. His vision wasn't confined any more. If felt like he could see the whole world without it being covered.
As Sohrae was remembering their conversation, she unconciously was wetting the towel, but forgot to wring it out. When she placed it on Harry's forehead, water poured out from it, leaking into his eyes and running down his face to run into his hair and ears. He let out a soft moan at the intrusions, but his eyes remained closed.
"Harry?" Sohrae whispered, taking a dry towel and cleaning his face of the excess water.
He let out another groan and slowely opened his eyes.
"Sohrae," he whispered, then swallowed.
"Hello, Harry. How are you feeling?"
He looked at her quizzically for a moment before noticing where he was laying.
"Uh. Oh. O.K, I guess." he looked sheepish for a moment before sitting up, the towel falling from his forehead. "How long have I been here?"
"About a half hour."
"Oh." He looked around but didn't see Madam Pomfrey. "Have you been caring for me?"
Sohrae averted her gaze and nodded. Harry smiled at her and said:
"Thank you. That was very sweet of you."
"Your welcome."
* * *
Ten minutes later, Madam Pomfrey walking in on Harry and Sohrae chatting animatedly.
"How are you feeling, Harry?" she asked the laughing teen.
"Fine, just fine!" he said between gasping for breath.
"Thats good to hear. Lunch is served now, if you'd like to join your friends in the Great Hall. Unless, of course, you'd rather stay here and--"
"No, no! That's O.K. We'll be leaving now," Harry cut her off. "Thank you very much for your caring for m--, er, letting me rest here."
Madam Pomfrey smiled at his slip. It was true, she thought. She hadnt done much besides providing a bed for him. That Sohrae was a unique girl. She was actually surprised that Harry was awake. She had figured atleast an hour until he woke.
"Maybe I'm getting old," she mumbled to herself.
"Pardon?" asked Sohrae.
"Nothing. Off to lunch you two. Out!"
Sohrae laughed, taking Harry's hand in her and headed to the Great Hall.
* * *
Madam Pomfrey watched the two leave. She had done exactly as she told Sohrae earlier; headed to see Professor Dumbledore immediately. Harry concerned her greatly. What was troubling her, however, was that Harry's condition couldn't be specified. Whatever spell was surrounding Harry prevented her medicine from helping him. He fluctuated with the magic around him, which was curious indeed. When the magic weakened, he got worse, when better: stabilized him. Completely repelled her magic. And Dumbledores.
This frightened her. She couldn't figure out who placed the spell on Harry, if it even was a spell. Had something over the summer triggered Harry to cast a protective barrier on himself? But...only very advance wizards could do that. Even though Harry could cast a Perfect Patronus, this was well above his level. Hard even for Albus.
Madam Pomfrey sighed. Harry had recovered so well. She kept him in the hospital just incase anything happened. And over the past five days, he had only gotten dizzy twice, but never collapsed. And never clutched his head. Did it have something to do with his scar...? Nonsense! She reprimanded herself. Harry destroyed Voldemort. Voldemort: Dead, gone. Scar: no pain. Then what could it be? Harry..hurting himself? No, it couldnt. Could it?
Poppy pursed her lips together. She had heard of this before. One or two cases; very rare. A wizard having so much trauma that they hurt themselves. Not the same as a depression, no. Those wizards were unaware that thay were slowely killing themselves inside: unintentionally. And all that Harry's been through!
She walked over to her mini library of her collection of medical books..and yes..four or five muggle romance novels. One wizard had died, she recalled. From...hm. Madam Pomfrey couldn't remember the name of the illness. But..how had the other wizard survived? Ah yes! He had found love.
She smiled into the book she had opened. Maybe it was good that Sohrae be with Harry right now.
* * *
Ten minutes and two seconds later....
"Do you have any idea where you're going?" Harry joked.
"Oh stuff it, you. I'll figure it out," Sohrae replied, determine.
"You know we're in the dungeons, right?"
* * *
Five minutes and fifty-five seconds later....
"This looks familiar!" Sohrae exclaimed happpily.
"Indeed. We have Divination here," Harry laughed, pointing to the trapped door.
"SHUT UP!" Sohrae growled, earning more laughs from Harry.
* * *
Three minutes and twenty seconds later....
"Hah! Great Hall here we come!"
Sohrae had gotten directions from a random painting, telling them exactly where to go.
"You do remember she said to make a left?" Harry asked as they took a right.
"DAMMIT!" Sohrae cried out.
Harry's laughed echo'd through the empty halls.
* * *
The doors to the Great Hall opened, presenting a miffed Sohrae and a laughing Harry. Harry then put his arms on Sohrae's shoulders and pushed her to the Gryffindor table, earning a glare.
"Just wanted to make sure you got here O.K.," Harry stated, sitting across from Sohrae and next to Hermione.
Sohrae just kicked him in his shin.
"All right there, Harry? I was told by Hagrid that you were in the hospital." Hermione striked up a conversation. "I'm good. Very good," he replied.
"I'll say," Ron quipped, eyeing Sohrae and Harry. "Why, pray tell, did you direct Sohrae to our table?"
"Long story," replied Harry, feeling Sohrae's warning glare.
"Oh come on, Harry!" Ron begged.
"Not until you tell me of the soda story."
"Gladly," Ron grumbled as Hermione elbowed him. "Well, we have ten minuted until DADA. Should we go?"
"Sure," Hermione said, getting up.
"You guys go on, I want to ask Harry something." Sohrae waved them on, then turned to Harry.
* * *
"So he's all right?"
"Yes. Now go away."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes! I just saw him. He's fine. Go."
"You're su--"
"STOP IT! You being caring is really creeping me out."
Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron's statement. Ron and Draco were at it again. Only, Draco had started out innocently enough: truly concerned when he heard about Harry going to the hospital ward again.
Now was a different story. After seeing how Ron had gotten annoyed when he asked 'Are you sure?', that's all Draco had been repeatidly asking for the past five minutes.
Hermione blew her bangs off her forehead. Gods..men! She'd be damned if they only existed for anything but their looks. And here she began their friendship thinking Draco was going to be an amazing person to have a conversation with. All he needed was some friends and his true colors shined through.
Oh how she missed Harry. He balanced everything out, connected them all together. And Sohrae! What was going on between those two at lunch? Well, Sohrae was a lucky girl who's going to have a lot more enemies than Draco.
'I wonder what she's going to ask Harry,' Hermione laughed at her thoughts, picturing Harry's bewilderment when he realizes Sohrae's asking him out. Her laughter caught the curiousity of Draco and Ron who looked to her in confusion, then to eachother and shrugged.
Hermione smiled at the two. O.K., So maybe Ron and Draco didn't need Harry to connect them perfectly: they seem to have more in common then they think.
~End of Chapter Seven! What do you think? Comments, Questions, Criticisms? All
accepted! Though some more than others. Feel free to inflate my ego.~
**Boost My Muse: Make A Donation to the 'I Need Your Thoughts Association'.**
Author: Remii
Disclaimer: Mm. My favorite part: the LEGAL CRAP. Sadly, I don't own Harry Potter of any of its wonderful character... T_T They belong to the amazingly talented J.K. Rowling. I do, however, own this story and any made- up spells or characters, so I'd appreciate it if you would ask before 'borrowing' them.
Warning: Well, the beginning starts out slow, so I'll dub it PG-13 for now, seeing as how it might progress in the future. ^_~
Eye Catching Blurb: We all know wizards are the higher power..but what if there was an even higher power that could control the outcome of our fate just by some simple words? And what does the renowned boy Harry Potter have to do with it all? Pasts will be exposed. Dreams will be foretold. But what's the big deal? Not like anyone gives a shit anyway. Welcome to Hogwarts.
*************************************************************************** ***********
I'd like to give a special thanks to those of you who are still with me. I'm so sorry this took so long. I never intended to take such a long time to update. And I can't even give you a good excuse! I just..lost my muse. And I'm not sure if it's returned yet. This chapter I scraped together quickly enough, after getting your review, Jinx. So I'd like to give a REALLY big hug and kisses to you, Jinx, for finally smashing me in my head and getting me to finish writing this chapter. Hopefully, I will never take this long to write again!
I'd also like to say, bear with me..for this chapter hasn't been beta-ed. **************************************************************************** **********
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Chapter Seven: Signs of Seriousness
Ron hated Potions. Not just Potions, but also Snape. Hate. Hate hate hate. Ron twiddled his thumbs under the desk. If Hermione werent there, he would have ended his life long ago. It was so boring! Snape wrote on the bored; they took notes. Snape sneered; they twitched in their seats. Snape smiled; they fainted. Snape. That stupid greasy git. Hate wasnt a good enough word, Ron realized. He needed something more powerful. Something that captured the essence of his feelings. Like...despise! No. Not good enough. Hm. Detest. Loathe. Abhor. Execrate....
Snape looked up to watch Ron staring intently at his noted. Ron actually looked like he was trying to find an answer to Snapes question! The horror. 'I must rectify this horrible turn of events,' Snape thought.
"Weasley!" He snapped. "Could you tell the class of the key component that should be added to complete the nail growth potion? Hm?"
Ron cringed and looked up. Since Harry had been kept in the hospital the past five days, Snape was relentless without his 'favorite' student to pick on. Ron skimmed the classroom, praying for a savior. He caught Draco's smirk and frowned. Draco then scribbled something on a piece of parchment and held it up.
'Rat's tail,' it read. 'Should I trust him? Oh what the hell,' thought Ron. "Rat's tail," he announced. Snape's smirk disappeared. He whiped around and looked at the faces of the innocent-looking Slytherins. This was horrible. A Weasley got an answer right. A Ron Weasley. Must ask another question!
"Very good, Weasley. Now tell me, what is the preferred rat to be used?" Snapes smirk returned as he saw Ron pale.
"Uh.."
Ron quickly glanced at Draco to see him already scribbling an answer. Draco held it up quickly before putting it away.
"Er...Fire Rats, sir, who can be found in the depths of Gringotts Bank."
Snape glared menicingly at Ron before turning around faster than anyone could blink.
"Who's telling him?!" he demanded to the startled Slytherins. "WELL?!" Frustrated at the lack of replies, Snape went back to the front of the classroom in a twirl of robes.
"Five points to Gryffindor," he muttered under his breath.
Just then, the door creaked open and Harry walking into the drastically quiet classroom. He felt all eyes on himself as he walked to the front to present Snape with a letter. Whispers were heard throughout the room. This was the first time Harry was making his presence known outside of the hospital ward. A girl from Gryffindor let out an excited gasp when she looked to Harry. He had no glasses on! She then turned to her partner and talked animatedly of his new look, irking Snape.
Snape snatched the letter from his hand and quickly skimmed it, his eyes widening from shock and settling into a glare. Harry hoped the paper wouldnt catch fire. He knew Dumbledore wanted a reply.
"Very well," said Snape, grabbing a pen to write his answer. "Potter, you are to stay after class. Weasley--" Ron shot up in his seat-- "you will inform your next teachers that Potter will not be attending class. Is this clear?"
"Yes, sir," Ron chirped, earning a glare from Snape and a sigh from Hermione.
She really wanted to ask Harry a million questions. Most of them about his summer. She knew something must have happened, because she had overheard Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore talking of it. What exactly did Harry do this summer? She hated having questions that books couldn't answer.
Moments later, Harry took the empty seat next to Pansy Parkison, who scooted as far away from his as she could. However, Pansy need not fear her twisted fate, sitting next to Potter of all people, for the class ended three minuted later. A letter dropped into Harry's lap as the crowd rushed to get out of the Potions classroom.
Probably Hermione deperate for answers, Harry laughed.
Once the students had filed out, Snape called Harry to his desk. Tucking the note in his pocket, Harry approached the desk with caution.
"Sometime this decade, Potter," Snape sneered. "Best get this over and done with."
"Er...yes, sir." Harry sat down across from Snape.
"You still have headaches."
"Yes, sir."
"And are often tired with a lack of energy."
"Yes, sir."
"And I'm to make you a potion to rectify these...malfunctions?"
"I believe that's what Professor Dumbledore wrote asking, sir."
"Very well. It will be done tonight. See me after dinner."
"Yes, sir."
Snape wrote a reply on Dumbledore's note. When he finished, he pulled out another piece of parchment and wrote another letter.
"You are to take this to Professor Sprout. She will have some ingredients I'll need."
"Yes, sir."
Snape shifted some papers on his desk, looking for something specific. Moments later he realized that Harry was still sitting across from him.
"Go to class. NOW," Snape yelled.
"Yes, sir!" Harry scrambeled up from his seat, all but running to the door. He reached the doornob when Snape cleared his throat. Harry turned around.
Snape smiled evily and gestured to the seat Harry had been sitting in.
Harry ran back over and clumsly pushed the seat back into place.
"NOW."
Harry darted out of the room, glad to be away from Snape, yet thankful no housepoints were taken. He hated Potions. Specifically Snape. Hate. Hate hate hate.
* * *
What did he have now? Ah, Herbology, yes. Harry liked that class. It was relaxing, rarely stressful. Ron had informed him that they were now learning about Shrewts. Little cabbage-like plants that took seven days to grow. After they are complete adults, they're pulled from the ground. However, you only had a minute to open them up and to get the purple core inside until the plant dried out and died, leaving it utterly useless. The purple core was a key ingredient in many potions to cure minor illnesses, specifically used in headaches potions. Leave it to Snape to know that Professor Sprout was now focusing the class on Shrewts.
Harry turned down the corridor, coming to the main hall and enterance into Hogwarts. He reached for the doorknob when his step wobbled, his breathing growing erratic.
"Oh please, not another dizzy spell," he pleaded with himself. He leaned against the cool wall, hoping it would pass. The cold did some good, for his headache soon died down to a little thumping in the back of his head. As it faded and he regained his senses, his head started to pound painfully once more.
"Please...not now..."
Moaning in pain, his eyesight turned to black and he stumbled to reach the door to grasp onto something. The throbbing increased tenfold, splitting his head in two. Harry cried out, gripping his head between his hands.
"Harry!" he heard someone call out, right before blackness claimed him.
* * *
Sohrae looked up and down the hallway before settling on the unconcious Harry. Aw, crap. She looked up and down the hall once more, just to reassure herselve that no one was around. Closing her eyes, she extended her arms to Harry.
Focusing, she concentrated on making him light as a feather. As soon as she was sure she had completed the spell, she made to lift him into her arms. Success! Sohrae sighed in relief, thankful that her spells, for once, hadnt gone haywire.
She all but ran to the hospital ward, checking once in awhile to make sure that Harry hadnt gotten worse on the way. When she arrived, she kicked open the door calling to Madam Pomfrey.
"Dear me, what happened?" Madam Pomfrey asked as she rushed over to Sohrae.
"I found him passed out in the corridor while on my way to see Dumbledore," Sohrae explained. "He was clutching his head."
"I see. Lay him right here," Madam Pomfrey said, indicating to a bed.
Sohrae carefully laid him down and pulled a chair over to the bed. "Do you mind if I stay until he wakes?" she asked.
Madam Pomfrey hesitated only a second before giving her consent. She then retrieved a towel and bowl of cool water. "His cheeks are flushed. Mind keeping his forehead cool until he wakes?"
"Not at all," Sohrae replied, a bit excited at taking care of Harry.
"I'll inform Dumbledore of Harry and your presence here and deliver this note to Professor Sprout," she said, picking the note up from the ground and reading to it was who. "Call to me immediately if anything happens." She then left the room.
Sohrae dipped the towel in the bowl of water and wrang it out. She smoothed Harry's bangs from his forehead and gently wiped his face. She then re-wetted it and place it on Harry's forehead. Her fingers didnt leave his face, however. They played over his cheekbones, then outlined his nose and trailed down to gently flitter over his lips. She smiled when she noticed that he wasnt wearing his glasses anymore. He looked so much better.
When Hermione, Ron, and herself had visited Harry after his talk with Dumbledore the next day, they figured he had just woken up and not put them on. He informed them, though, that he had realized that he didnt need them anymore the next morning. Funny enough, he hadnt noticed he wasnt wearing them the night before when he was looking around the room, and everything was in focus. He had called Madam Pomfrey over quickly, a bit worried about what this meant. She checked his eyes, but found nothing wrong, pronouncing them naturally healed. How? he didnt know. But he sort of liked the change. His vision wasn't confined any more. If felt like he could see the whole world without it being covered.
As Sohrae was remembering their conversation, she unconciously was wetting the towel, but forgot to wring it out. When she placed it on Harry's forehead, water poured out from it, leaking into his eyes and running down his face to run into his hair and ears. He let out a soft moan at the intrusions, but his eyes remained closed.
"Harry?" Sohrae whispered, taking a dry towel and cleaning his face of the excess water.
He let out another groan and slowely opened his eyes.
"Sohrae," he whispered, then swallowed.
"Hello, Harry. How are you feeling?"
He looked at her quizzically for a moment before noticing where he was laying.
"Uh. Oh. O.K, I guess." he looked sheepish for a moment before sitting up, the towel falling from his forehead. "How long have I been here?"
"About a half hour."
"Oh." He looked around but didn't see Madam Pomfrey. "Have you been caring for me?"
Sohrae averted her gaze and nodded. Harry smiled at her and said:
"Thank you. That was very sweet of you."
"Your welcome."
* * *
Ten minutes later, Madam Pomfrey walking in on Harry and Sohrae chatting animatedly.
"How are you feeling, Harry?" she asked the laughing teen.
"Fine, just fine!" he said between gasping for breath.
"Thats good to hear. Lunch is served now, if you'd like to join your friends in the Great Hall. Unless, of course, you'd rather stay here and--"
"No, no! That's O.K. We'll be leaving now," Harry cut her off. "Thank you very much for your caring for m--, er, letting me rest here."
Madam Pomfrey smiled at his slip. It was true, she thought. She hadnt done much besides providing a bed for him. That Sohrae was a unique girl. She was actually surprised that Harry was awake. She had figured atleast an hour until he woke.
"Maybe I'm getting old," she mumbled to herself.
"Pardon?" asked Sohrae.
"Nothing. Off to lunch you two. Out!"
Sohrae laughed, taking Harry's hand in her and headed to the Great Hall.
* * *
Madam Pomfrey watched the two leave. She had done exactly as she told Sohrae earlier; headed to see Professor Dumbledore immediately. Harry concerned her greatly. What was troubling her, however, was that Harry's condition couldn't be specified. Whatever spell was surrounding Harry prevented her medicine from helping him. He fluctuated with the magic around him, which was curious indeed. When the magic weakened, he got worse, when better: stabilized him. Completely repelled her magic. And Dumbledores.
This frightened her. She couldn't figure out who placed the spell on Harry, if it even was a spell. Had something over the summer triggered Harry to cast a protective barrier on himself? But...only very advance wizards could do that. Even though Harry could cast a Perfect Patronus, this was well above his level. Hard even for Albus.
Madam Pomfrey sighed. Harry had recovered so well. She kept him in the hospital just incase anything happened. And over the past five days, he had only gotten dizzy twice, but never collapsed. And never clutched his head. Did it have something to do with his scar...? Nonsense! She reprimanded herself. Harry destroyed Voldemort. Voldemort: Dead, gone. Scar: no pain. Then what could it be? Harry..hurting himself? No, it couldnt. Could it?
Poppy pursed her lips together. She had heard of this before. One or two cases; very rare. A wizard having so much trauma that they hurt themselves. Not the same as a depression, no. Those wizards were unaware that thay were slowely killing themselves inside: unintentionally. And all that Harry's been through!
She walked over to her mini library of her collection of medical books..and yes..four or five muggle romance novels. One wizard had died, she recalled. From...hm. Madam Pomfrey couldn't remember the name of the illness. But..how had the other wizard survived? Ah yes! He had found love.
She smiled into the book she had opened. Maybe it was good that Sohrae be with Harry right now.
* * *
Ten minutes and two seconds later....
"Do you have any idea where you're going?" Harry joked.
"Oh stuff it, you. I'll figure it out," Sohrae replied, determine.
"You know we're in the dungeons, right?"
* * *
Five minutes and fifty-five seconds later....
"This looks familiar!" Sohrae exclaimed happpily.
"Indeed. We have Divination here," Harry laughed, pointing to the trapped door.
"SHUT UP!" Sohrae growled, earning more laughs from Harry.
* * *
Three minutes and twenty seconds later....
"Hah! Great Hall here we come!"
Sohrae had gotten directions from a random painting, telling them exactly where to go.
"You do remember she said to make a left?" Harry asked as they took a right.
"DAMMIT!" Sohrae cried out.
Harry's laughed echo'd through the empty halls.
* * *
The doors to the Great Hall opened, presenting a miffed Sohrae and a laughing Harry. Harry then put his arms on Sohrae's shoulders and pushed her to the Gryffindor table, earning a glare.
"Just wanted to make sure you got here O.K.," Harry stated, sitting across from Sohrae and next to Hermione.
Sohrae just kicked him in his shin.
"All right there, Harry? I was told by Hagrid that you were in the hospital." Hermione striked up a conversation. "I'm good. Very good," he replied.
"I'll say," Ron quipped, eyeing Sohrae and Harry. "Why, pray tell, did you direct Sohrae to our table?"
"Long story," replied Harry, feeling Sohrae's warning glare.
"Oh come on, Harry!" Ron begged.
"Not until you tell me of the soda story."
"Gladly," Ron grumbled as Hermione elbowed him. "Well, we have ten minuted until DADA. Should we go?"
"Sure," Hermione said, getting up.
"You guys go on, I want to ask Harry something." Sohrae waved them on, then turned to Harry.
* * *
"So he's all right?"
"Yes. Now go away."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes! I just saw him. He's fine. Go."
"You're su--"
"STOP IT! You being caring is really creeping me out."
Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron's statement. Ron and Draco were at it again. Only, Draco had started out innocently enough: truly concerned when he heard about Harry going to the hospital ward again.
Now was a different story. After seeing how Ron had gotten annoyed when he asked 'Are you sure?', that's all Draco had been repeatidly asking for the past five minutes.
Hermione blew her bangs off her forehead. Gods..men! She'd be damned if they only existed for anything but their looks. And here she began their friendship thinking Draco was going to be an amazing person to have a conversation with. All he needed was some friends and his true colors shined through.
Oh how she missed Harry. He balanced everything out, connected them all together. And Sohrae! What was going on between those two at lunch? Well, Sohrae was a lucky girl who's going to have a lot more enemies than Draco.
'I wonder what she's going to ask Harry,' Hermione laughed at her thoughts, picturing Harry's bewilderment when he realizes Sohrae's asking him out. Her laughter caught the curiousity of Draco and Ron who looked to her in confusion, then to eachother and shrugged.
Hermione smiled at the two. O.K., So maybe Ron and Draco didn't need Harry to connect them perfectly: they seem to have more in common then they think.
~End of Chapter Seven! What do you think? Comments, Questions, Criticisms? All
accepted! Though some more than others. Feel free to inflate my ego.~
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