Author's note: I DO realize it has taken me approximately 4 months to
update. I felt sad realizing it myself, thank you much. Instead of giving
excuses I'm sure you don't care about I think I will just say this. To
combat the general shittiness of Writer's Block because of having
Dumbledore in this chapter I was forced to create less than interesting
titles. So. Live with the Dark Hounds. If ever I change their title you
shall be the first to know. I thought, and thought, and thought, and then
my brain gave out so I went to a doctor and then after it healed I thought
some more but I could NOT think of a decent name for the damn things. So I
thought of the first thing and and said 'screw it, it shall be written' and
it was. So. My fic....*cough*
Disclaimer: ............*sob*................Need I say more?
The Hours of Darkness
Chapter Four: Candle in the Dark By Sputnik2006
By the time Harry woke up it was already late afternoon, heading towards evening. He was pleasantly surprised to have not had any terrible dreams for the first time in who knew how long. Wishing it was like that every night he followed the hallway back to the room he had been in earlier.
Greebo was polishing the table when he got there. She squeaked and (after absentmindedly throwing the rag she was using into the fireplace) bowed low. "You is awake. Is you wanting any food, Mr. Harry Potter sir?"
Harry retrieved her discarded rag from the fireplace, happy it wasn't lit at the time, and handed it to her. "Sure. Whatever you get is fine. I'm not picky."
Hugging the rag as though it were a precious gift Greebo nodded and swiftly exited the room through a passage conceiled by one of the panels. Harry hoped she would remember to wash the polish off her hands before getting his food.
He wasn't remotely surprised when his attention was drawn to the corner panel. Up close he could tell it was older than the rest, that would account for its darker coloring. It was then that he could finally tell what was coming from the arch but it didn't seem to make much sense.
Birds. White birds, beautiful birds. And the others...grey-brown as the wood with a sleek, dangerous grace about them. Two seperate flocks, none of the birds seemed to want to touch the others.
Why two flocks of birds would ever appear from that cursed arch, Harry had no idea. He had to admit though, it WAS exquisite work. The birds seemed to flow from the arch, as though they rode the grain of the wood like a breeze. He brushed his finger across one of the white birds.
Flashes of light, strange voices.
Harry jumped back. 'What...?' He was afraid of it. What had happened just then?
His curiousity temporarily overrode his caution though. He put a finger on the white bird again.
Everything was blurry. What were those noises? Warmth...furry bodies moving nearby. A wet tongue moved across his fur.
'Wait, fur?' Harry didn't even hesitate then; he tried the dark bird.
Paws across the silvered ground. Never touching, always above. A distant goal. He stopped a moment to inhale the scent. Where was his prey, the black haired-one?
He tried to pull back. He was stuck, like his finger had a will of its own.
Water here. An easy task. Cool and fresh but not to him. He could not feel, not of the flesh. Something else, a hunger. Where was the black- haired one? It was far away, how had it escaped him in one night?
As if it too had a mind seperate from Harry's his other hand came up to touch the white bird.
The ice-cold mind grew frantic. What was this candle in the dark? A blinding light; it felt something, really FELT. What was this being of searing white? He turned and fled. Black-hair and blood would have to wait.
Before the strange visions had time to pass there was one more fleeting feeling of warmth and comfort from the white bird. 'Did I do good?' it seemed to ask.
'Yes,' Harry answered silently. 'Yes you did.'
Curling up, all the warm furry bodies felt nice. And someone said he had done good. He liked that someone, where could he find it?
Then his confused mind woke up again. It didn't understand any of the images it had just seen. Something new, in light of all the strange things that had already happened in the last day, scared him.
"What a day I've been having,"he mumbled to himself. Harry rubbed his forehead to clear his spinning mind and sat down in one of the armchairs.
~*~*~*~*~*~
When Greebo came back with his dinner, Harry automatically wished he had been more specific. The house elf had managed to put together quite a feast. Chicken and potatoes and green beans, all in portions big enough to make three people satisfied. He was a little embarrassed as well. It still felt wrong when he was cooked for instead of being the one doing the actual cooking. He sincerely hoped she hadn't gone to too much trouble. He remembered what Remus had said, she wasn't the most competent but she definitely tried. Maybe she tried too hard....
"Sleep well?"
Choking on a green bean, Harry looked up from his plate to see Lupin come into the room and sit down next to him. He swallowed hard and put his fork down. Best not try to eat and talk at the same time...."Er, better than usual, I guess. Nothing nightmarish enough for me to remember."
"You usually have nightmares?" The intensity of Remus' eyes on his face made Harry wish he hadn't said that. With all the crazy things he had been through wasn't it almost expected that he had the occasional mightmare? Ok, so it wasn't really occasional but it still couldn't be entirely unexpected.
"None of the Voldemort dreams, I mean," he said, hoping the man would take that answer. To Harry's great relief Remus let the matter go.
He took a little while to finish a little more of his meal before continuing the conversation. The images and feelings he had gotten from the wood panel were still stuck in his head for some reason. It had been strange though. He had been the dark creature and not the other one, did that mean something? 'No,'he thought,' I wasn't really him, it was more like...my mind was riding along beside his.'
A thought suddenly dawned on him. Hadn't the cold-minded one been searching for him? Was THAT what had come to the Dursley's last night? Coming for....
Blood.
He let his fork clatter to his plate, his appetite completely gone. Whatever that thing was it was coming for him again. He had to tell someone. Dumbledore had known something about the picture hadn't he? He must know what to do. Right? Trying to sound as casual as possible he asked Remus where Dumbledore was.
"He went to Azkaban a few hours ago. He had to talk to the girl about a few things, he said. Should be back in a little while. I can't really imagine what it is that's taking him so long in the first place."
So he'd be back soon. That was a relief.
Harry excused himself, went back to his room and flopped down on his bed. He wondered what exactly the things were. He liked the feelings he had gotten from the white bird. That one had acted like a little child, all smiles and eager to please. So different from the other one. It had an ice to it's mind that reminded him of Voldemort. All cold calm and reason and a mind as sharp as a blade. But he hadn't felt REAL. The first one had been so happy because it was warm and felt loving things. The other hadn't felt anything at all.
So Dumbledore had been truthful. Whatever wanted him wasn't corporeal. Which meant the other thing was a real living, breathing creature. Not to mention furry. That made him smile. It seemed so much like a children's book to have a happy, warm, fuzzy thing watching over him.
~*~*~*~*~*~
It was almost midnight again before Dumbledore came home again. Harry spent the time wandering the house, just doing little things to keep himself occupied. He couldn't just sit in his room for hours on end.
The sheer size of Dumbledore's home was enough to make Harry forget the events of the last day, if only for a short time. He walked for at least two hours before he found a room he had seen before and that was only on one floor. It seemed like it simply stretched on forever, no matter how long he walked there would never be an end to the hallway. Smiling slightly he realized that since this WAS a wizarding home it was entirely possible the hallways could do that. Then he just hoped they would at least have the courtesy to run through his room so he didn't have to keep walking until he died. But he doubted that would happen seeing as how 1. the house DID have to have limits and 2. Dumbledore would never let him die such a pathetic death in his own house.
He wondered how the old man could live alone in a house this size. In time it had to make one weary, turning the corner to see a splendidly decorated room and having no one to show it to. Or talk to or look after. Yet again he was reminded of Sirius. This was nothing like Grimmauld Place but it had to be somewhat similar. Both, though huge, were quite empty of what a house should feel like. But here, at least, it almost felt as though the house were longing for people. Grimmauld had had more or a 'stay away or else' sort of feel.
Harry felt himself raise an eyebrow. Now he was considering the thoughts and deep feelings of houses? What would come next, him sitting down and actually paying attention to Hermione's S.P.E.W. nonsense? Well, maybe that was going a little too far. He doubted he would ever want to listen to that annoying prattle on a regular basis. Though he HAD and lived through it in 4th year.
"Harry?" Dumbledore said suddenly from the door of the room he was in.
Harry jumped, knocking the vase he had been looking at over. It crashed to the floor and shattered into large shards. "Er..."
Smiling, Dumbledore waved his wand slightly and it flew back together, patched itself up, and settled back on the table it had been on before. "That's ok, no harm done. My own fault really. You wished to talk to me before?"
He didn't bother to wonder how the old man had known. The things he knew when he shouldn't no longer amazed Harry that much. "What did you find out talking to that Bancroft woman?" The moment it was out of his mouth he cursed inwardly. He'd meant to tell him about the vision he'd had. Damn his stupidity...
It seemed as though Dumbledore noted this but chose to play along for the moment. He motioned for Harry to join him on the couch in the center of the room. It wasn't until he sunk down into the soft cushions that he realized how much his feet hurt. Strange house, this one.
"It went as well as can be expected. I had to argue for a while to convince the guards I was perfectly capable of handling an unarmed witch but in the end they consented to let me chat with her."
"Alone?"
"No, of course not. I needed a witness to the use of Veritaserum and for her account of what happened the night her family was murdered. She was indeed innocent but the details are unimportant. The fact that she did not commit the crime is enough to get her out of Azkaban."
Harry opened his mouth to ask what happened but Dumbledore held up a hand to stop him. "I understand you are not a child, to be denied such knowledge, but it was her wish not to share the intimate details for fear they might find their way to the press and some parts were rather disturbing."
"Ok, fine. Can I ask just one question then? Why is it she was believed so much? Didn't anyone think it was rather suspicious that she just came home one day pledging allegiance to a dark wizard who had been missing for over a decade?"
Dumbledore smiled slightly. "Truth be told she was always seen as leaning toward the dark, mostly because she had very few friends. I don't believe she had a single close friend in Gryffindor house, maybe a few in Ravenclaw. It was no fault of hers, of course, she was always marked as an odd one, for a couple of reasons.
"First off, she was born of two squibs, in a family notorious for less- talented wizards. It had never happened before, magical children being born to a broken line. Most people think that when squibs are born to a family there will never be any magical children, they are seen as bad luck, or perhaps a curse on the family. No one knew what to think when she was born, even after her brother had proven so talented."
"Her brother wasn't a squib either? Why wasn't he an outcast?"
"You forget, Harry, the fact that she is a dream walker. Dream walkers have always been more aloof than other people. No one wants to get very close to someone who can control your dreams and make nightmares reality.
"It did not help that she was grossly overshadowed by her brother, Richard. He was the perfect everything, excellent grades, fairly good looks. And everyone saw her as just the little sister with the dangerous talent, some skill with jinxes, and no friends. I don't think she ever envied him. I doubt anyone could love their brother as much as she did."
"And the second part?"
"That ties into the dreamwalker bit as well. You see, even long before her time her kind have been shunned by all save those seeking power. It has been suggested that dreamwalkers are only born before war breaks out. An ill omen, you might say. When battle does come the side with that kind of power, the ability to know events before they happen and make enemies go mad over what they see at night....They are always sought out. Whichever side cannot use it will do anything in their power to make sure the other cannot either. Those few who live long enough to choose sides have, sad to say, mainly chosen darkness. Darkness and more power."
"I see," was all Harry said. With a past like that it was no wonder, really.
Dumbledore remained silent a moment longer before shifting slightly on the couch and asking, "There was something else you wished to talk about?"
So Harry related what he had seen when he'd touched the wall panel.
The old man seemed lost in though for a few minutes. There was an odd look on his face. It wasn't exactly fear. Harry couldn't tell what it was. It appeared almost as though Dumbledore was uncertain about something.
Harry did know that when Dumbledore didn't know what to think it could never be a good thing.
"Voldemort is either quite desperate or more ambitious than I had thought he currently was. To bring a dark hound into this war...."
"A what?" Harry knew he didn't pay attention to every lesson at Hogwarts but he was fairly certain dark hounds had never come up.
"A dark hound," Dumbledore said, taking a second to clean his half-moon spectacles, "is a spirit that hunts for dreams. It is the beast that makes the old never wake because their minds are consumed by it. They are dangerous to normal humans only when they are summoned for a specific purpose. When given a task to perform they do so quickly and in such a way that none would ever guess it unless they knew what to look for. The poor people who are attacked bear no physical damage because it is all in their head. In death, even while asleep, they all cradle their heads in a futile effort to stop the agony of having their minds torn apart."
Harry gave an involuntary shudder. "A-and Voldemort sent one of these after me?"
"So it would seem. He must think you are a very large risk to himself to have taken such a risk. The dark hound could have attacked him while he summoned it. They are known to turn on prospective masters. There are precautions that can be taken for you. You said that the hound was confused. That it did not appear to know where you were, correct? This should be the case as long as you remain at my home. At Hogwarts I am less certain. Rest assured, Harry, that all things will be done to make sure you come to no harm."
It was getting late but now he really didn't want to sleep anymore. There was too much on his mind for him to even consider sleeping anyway but he did not like the way this conversation was going. So he stood up to go. "I just have two last questions for you."
His silver-haired headmaster smiled up at him. "And I will be happy to answer them as best I can."
"First, what was the first thing I saw. Whose thoughts did I have when I touched the white bird?"
"I cannot tell you that because I do not know the answer. All I can think to tell you is that maybe you should start believing in some of those Muggle ideas. I do believe you have your own guardian angel." Harry almost laughed at the huge grin on the old man's face when he said that.
"Perhaps I do. Now, most importantly: How do I get back to my room?"
~*~*~*~*~*~
FINALLY! THE CHAPTER BIT FROM HELL HAS MATERIALIZED INTO THE CHAPTER IT WAS MEANT TO BE!!! ~hugs the pretty chapter~ Lol, and try to imagine Dumbly saying Harry has a guardian angel. I imagine his face looks something like this -( ^_^ I almost put that there too.... Well, I wrote my chappie. I feel accomplished again. I probably shouldn't. But anywho...please disregard all my swearing in the Author's notes. I was angry. I feel happy now. Now if only I could get a better title for the stupid dark hound....we'll leave that for tomorrow. So, your turn. Get to work. REVIEW. ~bows and leaves~
Disclaimer: ............*sob*................Need I say more?
The Hours of Darkness
Chapter Four: Candle in the Dark By Sputnik2006
By the time Harry woke up it was already late afternoon, heading towards evening. He was pleasantly surprised to have not had any terrible dreams for the first time in who knew how long. Wishing it was like that every night he followed the hallway back to the room he had been in earlier.
Greebo was polishing the table when he got there. She squeaked and (after absentmindedly throwing the rag she was using into the fireplace) bowed low. "You is awake. Is you wanting any food, Mr. Harry Potter sir?"
Harry retrieved her discarded rag from the fireplace, happy it wasn't lit at the time, and handed it to her. "Sure. Whatever you get is fine. I'm not picky."
Hugging the rag as though it were a precious gift Greebo nodded and swiftly exited the room through a passage conceiled by one of the panels. Harry hoped she would remember to wash the polish off her hands before getting his food.
He wasn't remotely surprised when his attention was drawn to the corner panel. Up close he could tell it was older than the rest, that would account for its darker coloring. It was then that he could finally tell what was coming from the arch but it didn't seem to make much sense.
Birds. White birds, beautiful birds. And the others...grey-brown as the wood with a sleek, dangerous grace about them. Two seperate flocks, none of the birds seemed to want to touch the others.
Why two flocks of birds would ever appear from that cursed arch, Harry had no idea. He had to admit though, it WAS exquisite work. The birds seemed to flow from the arch, as though they rode the grain of the wood like a breeze. He brushed his finger across one of the white birds.
Flashes of light, strange voices.
Harry jumped back. 'What...?' He was afraid of it. What had happened just then?
His curiousity temporarily overrode his caution though. He put a finger on the white bird again.
Everything was blurry. What were those noises? Warmth...furry bodies moving nearby. A wet tongue moved across his fur.
'Wait, fur?' Harry didn't even hesitate then; he tried the dark bird.
Paws across the silvered ground. Never touching, always above. A distant goal. He stopped a moment to inhale the scent. Where was his prey, the black haired-one?
He tried to pull back. He was stuck, like his finger had a will of its own.
Water here. An easy task. Cool and fresh but not to him. He could not feel, not of the flesh. Something else, a hunger. Where was the black- haired one? It was far away, how had it escaped him in one night?
As if it too had a mind seperate from Harry's his other hand came up to touch the white bird.
The ice-cold mind grew frantic. What was this candle in the dark? A blinding light; it felt something, really FELT. What was this being of searing white? He turned and fled. Black-hair and blood would have to wait.
Before the strange visions had time to pass there was one more fleeting feeling of warmth and comfort from the white bird. 'Did I do good?' it seemed to ask.
'Yes,' Harry answered silently. 'Yes you did.'
Curling up, all the warm furry bodies felt nice. And someone said he had done good. He liked that someone, where could he find it?
Then his confused mind woke up again. It didn't understand any of the images it had just seen. Something new, in light of all the strange things that had already happened in the last day, scared him.
"What a day I've been having,"he mumbled to himself. Harry rubbed his forehead to clear his spinning mind and sat down in one of the armchairs.
~*~*~*~*~*~
When Greebo came back with his dinner, Harry automatically wished he had been more specific. The house elf had managed to put together quite a feast. Chicken and potatoes and green beans, all in portions big enough to make three people satisfied. He was a little embarrassed as well. It still felt wrong when he was cooked for instead of being the one doing the actual cooking. He sincerely hoped she hadn't gone to too much trouble. He remembered what Remus had said, she wasn't the most competent but she definitely tried. Maybe she tried too hard....
"Sleep well?"
Choking on a green bean, Harry looked up from his plate to see Lupin come into the room and sit down next to him. He swallowed hard and put his fork down. Best not try to eat and talk at the same time...."Er, better than usual, I guess. Nothing nightmarish enough for me to remember."
"You usually have nightmares?" The intensity of Remus' eyes on his face made Harry wish he hadn't said that. With all the crazy things he had been through wasn't it almost expected that he had the occasional mightmare? Ok, so it wasn't really occasional but it still couldn't be entirely unexpected.
"None of the Voldemort dreams, I mean," he said, hoping the man would take that answer. To Harry's great relief Remus let the matter go.
He took a little while to finish a little more of his meal before continuing the conversation. The images and feelings he had gotten from the wood panel were still stuck in his head for some reason. It had been strange though. He had been the dark creature and not the other one, did that mean something? 'No,'he thought,' I wasn't really him, it was more like...my mind was riding along beside his.'
A thought suddenly dawned on him. Hadn't the cold-minded one been searching for him? Was THAT what had come to the Dursley's last night? Coming for....
Blood.
He let his fork clatter to his plate, his appetite completely gone. Whatever that thing was it was coming for him again. He had to tell someone. Dumbledore had known something about the picture hadn't he? He must know what to do. Right? Trying to sound as casual as possible he asked Remus where Dumbledore was.
"He went to Azkaban a few hours ago. He had to talk to the girl about a few things, he said. Should be back in a little while. I can't really imagine what it is that's taking him so long in the first place."
So he'd be back soon. That was a relief.
Harry excused himself, went back to his room and flopped down on his bed. He wondered what exactly the things were. He liked the feelings he had gotten from the white bird. That one had acted like a little child, all smiles and eager to please. So different from the other one. It had an ice to it's mind that reminded him of Voldemort. All cold calm and reason and a mind as sharp as a blade. But he hadn't felt REAL. The first one had been so happy because it was warm and felt loving things. The other hadn't felt anything at all.
So Dumbledore had been truthful. Whatever wanted him wasn't corporeal. Which meant the other thing was a real living, breathing creature. Not to mention furry. That made him smile. It seemed so much like a children's book to have a happy, warm, fuzzy thing watching over him.
~*~*~*~*~*~
It was almost midnight again before Dumbledore came home again. Harry spent the time wandering the house, just doing little things to keep himself occupied. He couldn't just sit in his room for hours on end.
The sheer size of Dumbledore's home was enough to make Harry forget the events of the last day, if only for a short time. He walked for at least two hours before he found a room he had seen before and that was only on one floor. It seemed like it simply stretched on forever, no matter how long he walked there would never be an end to the hallway. Smiling slightly he realized that since this WAS a wizarding home it was entirely possible the hallways could do that. Then he just hoped they would at least have the courtesy to run through his room so he didn't have to keep walking until he died. But he doubted that would happen seeing as how 1. the house DID have to have limits and 2. Dumbledore would never let him die such a pathetic death in his own house.
He wondered how the old man could live alone in a house this size. In time it had to make one weary, turning the corner to see a splendidly decorated room and having no one to show it to. Or talk to or look after. Yet again he was reminded of Sirius. This was nothing like Grimmauld Place but it had to be somewhat similar. Both, though huge, were quite empty of what a house should feel like. But here, at least, it almost felt as though the house were longing for people. Grimmauld had had more or a 'stay away or else' sort of feel.
Harry felt himself raise an eyebrow. Now he was considering the thoughts and deep feelings of houses? What would come next, him sitting down and actually paying attention to Hermione's S.P.E.W. nonsense? Well, maybe that was going a little too far. He doubted he would ever want to listen to that annoying prattle on a regular basis. Though he HAD and lived through it in 4th year.
"Harry?" Dumbledore said suddenly from the door of the room he was in.
Harry jumped, knocking the vase he had been looking at over. It crashed to the floor and shattered into large shards. "Er..."
Smiling, Dumbledore waved his wand slightly and it flew back together, patched itself up, and settled back on the table it had been on before. "That's ok, no harm done. My own fault really. You wished to talk to me before?"
He didn't bother to wonder how the old man had known. The things he knew when he shouldn't no longer amazed Harry that much. "What did you find out talking to that Bancroft woman?" The moment it was out of his mouth he cursed inwardly. He'd meant to tell him about the vision he'd had. Damn his stupidity...
It seemed as though Dumbledore noted this but chose to play along for the moment. He motioned for Harry to join him on the couch in the center of the room. It wasn't until he sunk down into the soft cushions that he realized how much his feet hurt. Strange house, this one.
"It went as well as can be expected. I had to argue for a while to convince the guards I was perfectly capable of handling an unarmed witch but in the end they consented to let me chat with her."
"Alone?"
"No, of course not. I needed a witness to the use of Veritaserum and for her account of what happened the night her family was murdered. She was indeed innocent but the details are unimportant. The fact that she did not commit the crime is enough to get her out of Azkaban."
Harry opened his mouth to ask what happened but Dumbledore held up a hand to stop him. "I understand you are not a child, to be denied such knowledge, but it was her wish not to share the intimate details for fear they might find their way to the press and some parts were rather disturbing."
"Ok, fine. Can I ask just one question then? Why is it she was believed so much? Didn't anyone think it was rather suspicious that she just came home one day pledging allegiance to a dark wizard who had been missing for over a decade?"
Dumbledore smiled slightly. "Truth be told she was always seen as leaning toward the dark, mostly because she had very few friends. I don't believe she had a single close friend in Gryffindor house, maybe a few in Ravenclaw. It was no fault of hers, of course, she was always marked as an odd one, for a couple of reasons.
"First off, she was born of two squibs, in a family notorious for less- talented wizards. It had never happened before, magical children being born to a broken line. Most people think that when squibs are born to a family there will never be any magical children, they are seen as bad luck, or perhaps a curse on the family. No one knew what to think when she was born, even after her brother had proven so talented."
"Her brother wasn't a squib either? Why wasn't he an outcast?"
"You forget, Harry, the fact that she is a dream walker. Dream walkers have always been more aloof than other people. No one wants to get very close to someone who can control your dreams and make nightmares reality.
"It did not help that she was grossly overshadowed by her brother, Richard. He was the perfect everything, excellent grades, fairly good looks. And everyone saw her as just the little sister with the dangerous talent, some skill with jinxes, and no friends. I don't think she ever envied him. I doubt anyone could love their brother as much as she did."
"And the second part?"
"That ties into the dreamwalker bit as well. You see, even long before her time her kind have been shunned by all save those seeking power. It has been suggested that dreamwalkers are only born before war breaks out. An ill omen, you might say. When battle does come the side with that kind of power, the ability to know events before they happen and make enemies go mad over what they see at night....They are always sought out. Whichever side cannot use it will do anything in their power to make sure the other cannot either. Those few who live long enough to choose sides have, sad to say, mainly chosen darkness. Darkness and more power."
"I see," was all Harry said. With a past like that it was no wonder, really.
Dumbledore remained silent a moment longer before shifting slightly on the couch and asking, "There was something else you wished to talk about?"
So Harry related what he had seen when he'd touched the wall panel.
The old man seemed lost in though for a few minutes. There was an odd look on his face. It wasn't exactly fear. Harry couldn't tell what it was. It appeared almost as though Dumbledore was uncertain about something.
Harry did know that when Dumbledore didn't know what to think it could never be a good thing.
"Voldemort is either quite desperate or more ambitious than I had thought he currently was. To bring a dark hound into this war...."
"A what?" Harry knew he didn't pay attention to every lesson at Hogwarts but he was fairly certain dark hounds had never come up.
"A dark hound," Dumbledore said, taking a second to clean his half-moon spectacles, "is a spirit that hunts for dreams. It is the beast that makes the old never wake because their minds are consumed by it. They are dangerous to normal humans only when they are summoned for a specific purpose. When given a task to perform they do so quickly and in such a way that none would ever guess it unless they knew what to look for. The poor people who are attacked bear no physical damage because it is all in their head. In death, even while asleep, they all cradle their heads in a futile effort to stop the agony of having their minds torn apart."
Harry gave an involuntary shudder. "A-and Voldemort sent one of these after me?"
"So it would seem. He must think you are a very large risk to himself to have taken such a risk. The dark hound could have attacked him while he summoned it. They are known to turn on prospective masters. There are precautions that can be taken for you. You said that the hound was confused. That it did not appear to know where you were, correct? This should be the case as long as you remain at my home. At Hogwarts I am less certain. Rest assured, Harry, that all things will be done to make sure you come to no harm."
It was getting late but now he really didn't want to sleep anymore. There was too much on his mind for him to even consider sleeping anyway but he did not like the way this conversation was going. So he stood up to go. "I just have two last questions for you."
His silver-haired headmaster smiled up at him. "And I will be happy to answer them as best I can."
"First, what was the first thing I saw. Whose thoughts did I have when I touched the white bird?"
"I cannot tell you that because I do not know the answer. All I can think to tell you is that maybe you should start believing in some of those Muggle ideas. I do believe you have your own guardian angel." Harry almost laughed at the huge grin on the old man's face when he said that.
"Perhaps I do. Now, most importantly: How do I get back to my room?"
~*~*~*~*~*~
FINALLY! THE CHAPTER BIT FROM HELL HAS MATERIALIZED INTO THE CHAPTER IT WAS MEANT TO BE!!! ~hugs the pretty chapter~ Lol, and try to imagine Dumbly saying Harry has a guardian angel. I imagine his face looks something like this -( ^_^ I almost put that there too.... Well, I wrote my chappie. I feel accomplished again. I probably shouldn't. But anywho...please disregard all my swearing in the Author's notes. I was angry. I feel happy now. Now if only I could get a better title for the stupid dark hound....we'll leave that for tomorrow. So, your turn. Get to work. REVIEW. ~bows and leaves~
