Part Two: Through Something Solid
~~~
Harry stirred. Slowly he opened his eyes and blinked against the bright, offending light. Why was he lying on the bathroom floor?
Gingerly, he got up on his hands and knees before sitting back on his heels. Looking around, he saw Draco lying near the door. Suddenly, it all came back to him. The spell that had been reflected in the mirror. He stood up awkwardly, his limbs aching, and walked over to the Slytherin. Gently poking Draco with his shoe, he said, "Malfoy?"
The blond didn't move. Harry sighed. What was he supposed to do now? He wondered idly what kind of spell it was that Draco had attempted to cast. Apparently, it had gone wrong. Or maybe Draco had managed to cast it on himself. Harry allowed himself an amused smile at the thought.
Harry exited the bathroom, walking down the empty corridor. No matter what, there was a chance something had really happened, and he wanted to make sure both he and Draco were okay – enemies or no. He reached the hospital wing shortly. Madame Pomfrey was taking care of a first-year student who had poured some potion all over himself, and Harry stopped in the doorway, waiting for her to finish with the boy. Idly, Harry looked around, leaning on the cold door-frame. Draco could certainly wait.
Naturally, Harry was pissed at the Slytherin. No one wanted to get a spell on them – particularly if the person casting it was one of their enemies. Harry looked at his arms, glanced over his shoulder to see if maybe he had a tail; everything seemed normal. Whatever Malfoy had attempted had apparently gone wrong.
Madame Pomfrey turned around, still talking to the first-year. She told him how to take care of himself and how to prevent such accidents from happening again. The young, wide-eyed boy nodded avidly and jumped off the bed he'd been sitting on, gathering his things. With a last smile, the boy walked towards the door, saying to Madame Pomfrey that he'd be more careful in the future. Harry was just about to step away from the door in order to let the boy past him, but...
The boy walked right through him.
Harry didn't feel anything. The boy just walked right through his body, as if he wasn't there. He let out a shocked sound, his hands flying to his chest as if he expected to find a massive hole there.
Unsurprisingly, there was nothing. His chest was solid.
"Madame Pomfrey?" he said quietly.
The woman took out some books and started to look for something, humming softly under her breath.
"Madame Pomfrey!
This time, there was no question about it. It wasn't just Harry speaking too quietly. She really couldn't hear him.
Dreading the answer but unable to stop himself, Harry stepped forward, reaching out his hand. Trying to tap Madame Pompfrey on the shoulder, he discovered that his fingers sunk into her flesh and bone.
With an inhuman shriek, Harry jumped back. It was Draco's spell, it had to be. He was only... seeing things. He was seeing things that weren't there. Right?
Slowly, he decided to try again. With two steps, he was close enough to touch her again. Hesitantly, he reached out one hand, trying to lower it on her shoulder.
Where there should have been a cloth-clad shoulder, Harry's fingers met nothing. It felt as though she was made of thin air. Trying to control his racing emotions, he pushed his had deeper, having his entire hand occupying the same space as her shoulder. The scene before him was terrifying.
Slowly, he curled his fingers into a fist. He could feel his palm with the tips of his fingers, he could feel his fingers brushing against one another.
But he couldn't feel her.
Closing his eyes, Harry pulled his hand away gingerly, as if it caused him physical pain. He let out a breath, lowering his arm to his side. It brushed against his robes, and he was more or less relieved to see that at least he hadn't become thin air to himself, too.
//Am I a ghost?// he wondered. But he wasn't falling through the floor, and he had just moments earlier leaned on the door frame. He couldn't fly, and he couldn't be heard. //Guess not.//
He tried stepping in front of Madame Pomfrey. Her eyes landed on where he should have been, but she didn't see anything, merely stepped through him.
He tried yelling, shouting, kicking at things. She didn't hear him.
He tried magic, only to discover that he had no power over the objects around him. Sure, he could sit on the beds and walk on the floor, but he was unable to lift or move anything. Nothing he did had any effect.
Full of frustration and despair, Harry left the hospital wing. On his way to the bathroom where he'd left Malfoy he tried all kinds of tricks with the students he passed, but no one could see him. He walked into Ron and Hermione – literally – and heard them talking about him. They were wondering where he was, why he hadn't attended his class.
He wanted to tell them, wanted to shout that maybe he was dead, but they wouldn't have heard him. Besides, he didn't really know if any of this was true – he'd heard of spells that could make you see things. Bad things. And Harry counted having his hand inside Madame Pomfrey's shoulder as a bad thing.
Even more frustrated than before, Harry left his two friends. Right now Draco Malfoy, who was lying on the bathroom floor, passed out, was the only person he could touch.
The thought made him slightly nauseous.
Harry hoped to be wrong about that, though. Maybe there was someone else. He tried to think of it rather as "at least he could contact *someone*." Besides, if Malfoy had cast the spell, there was a chance he also had some sort of a counter-curse.
The odds weren't good, but it was all Harry had.
//Maybe this will pass,// he told himself. //Yeah. It'll pass. You'll see. It'll be gone soon.//
But he failed to convince himself.
~~~
Harry stirred. Slowly he opened his eyes and blinked against the bright, offending light. Why was he lying on the bathroom floor?
Gingerly, he got up on his hands and knees before sitting back on his heels. Looking around, he saw Draco lying near the door. Suddenly, it all came back to him. The spell that had been reflected in the mirror. He stood up awkwardly, his limbs aching, and walked over to the Slytherin. Gently poking Draco with his shoe, he said, "Malfoy?"
The blond didn't move. Harry sighed. What was he supposed to do now? He wondered idly what kind of spell it was that Draco had attempted to cast. Apparently, it had gone wrong. Or maybe Draco had managed to cast it on himself. Harry allowed himself an amused smile at the thought.
Harry exited the bathroom, walking down the empty corridor. No matter what, there was a chance something had really happened, and he wanted to make sure both he and Draco were okay – enemies or no. He reached the hospital wing shortly. Madame Pomfrey was taking care of a first-year student who had poured some potion all over himself, and Harry stopped in the doorway, waiting for her to finish with the boy. Idly, Harry looked around, leaning on the cold door-frame. Draco could certainly wait.
Naturally, Harry was pissed at the Slytherin. No one wanted to get a spell on them – particularly if the person casting it was one of their enemies. Harry looked at his arms, glanced over his shoulder to see if maybe he had a tail; everything seemed normal. Whatever Malfoy had attempted had apparently gone wrong.
Madame Pomfrey turned around, still talking to the first-year. She told him how to take care of himself and how to prevent such accidents from happening again. The young, wide-eyed boy nodded avidly and jumped off the bed he'd been sitting on, gathering his things. With a last smile, the boy walked towards the door, saying to Madame Pomfrey that he'd be more careful in the future. Harry was just about to step away from the door in order to let the boy past him, but...
The boy walked right through him.
Harry didn't feel anything. The boy just walked right through his body, as if he wasn't there. He let out a shocked sound, his hands flying to his chest as if he expected to find a massive hole there.
Unsurprisingly, there was nothing. His chest was solid.
"Madame Pomfrey?" he said quietly.
The woman took out some books and started to look for something, humming softly under her breath.
"Madame Pomfrey!
This time, there was no question about it. It wasn't just Harry speaking too quietly. She really couldn't hear him.
Dreading the answer but unable to stop himself, Harry stepped forward, reaching out his hand. Trying to tap Madame Pompfrey on the shoulder, he discovered that his fingers sunk into her flesh and bone.
With an inhuman shriek, Harry jumped back. It was Draco's spell, it had to be. He was only... seeing things. He was seeing things that weren't there. Right?
Slowly, he decided to try again. With two steps, he was close enough to touch her again. Hesitantly, he reached out one hand, trying to lower it on her shoulder.
Where there should have been a cloth-clad shoulder, Harry's fingers met nothing. It felt as though she was made of thin air. Trying to control his racing emotions, he pushed his had deeper, having his entire hand occupying the same space as her shoulder. The scene before him was terrifying.
Slowly, he curled his fingers into a fist. He could feel his palm with the tips of his fingers, he could feel his fingers brushing against one another.
But he couldn't feel her.
Closing his eyes, Harry pulled his hand away gingerly, as if it caused him physical pain. He let out a breath, lowering his arm to his side. It brushed against his robes, and he was more or less relieved to see that at least he hadn't become thin air to himself, too.
//Am I a ghost?// he wondered. But he wasn't falling through the floor, and he had just moments earlier leaned on the door frame. He couldn't fly, and he couldn't be heard. //Guess not.//
He tried stepping in front of Madame Pomfrey. Her eyes landed on where he should have been, but she didn't see anything, merely stepped through him.
He tried yelling, shouting, kicking at things. She didn't hear him.
He tried magic, only to discover that he had no power over the objects around him. Sure, he could sit on the beds and walk on the floor, but he was unable to lift or move anything. Nothing he did had any effect.
Full of frustration and despair, Harry left the hospital wing. On his way to the bathroom where he'd left Malfoy he tried all kinds of tricks with the students he passed, but no one could see him. He walked into Ron and Hermione – literally – and heard them talking about him. They were wondering where he was, why he hadn't attended his class.
He wanted to tell them, wanted to shout that maybe he was dead, but they wouldn't have heard him. Besides, he didn't really know if any of this was true – he'd heard of spells that could make you see things. Bad things. And Harry counted having his hand inside Madame Pomfrey's shoulder as a bad thing.
Even more frustrated than before, Harry left his two friends. Right now Draco Malfoy, who was lying on the bathroom floor, passed out, was the only person he could touch.
The thought made him slightly nauseous.
Harry hoped to be wrong about that, though. Maybe there was someone else. He tried to think of it rather as "at least he could contact *someone*." Besides, if Malfoy had cast the spell, there was a chance he also had some sort of a counter-curse.
The odds weren't good, but it was all Harry had.
//Maybe this will pass,// he told himself. //Yeah. It'll pass. You'll see. It'll be gone soon.//
But he failed to convince himself.
