Chapter Six
Just another incident
Something damp touched my face. I wasn't quite certain what it was. But I did know that it wasn't 1978 and that my left arm wasn't the only thing that hurt. I moved slightly and a groan escaped my lips. Nothing felt broken, but everything felt bruised and battered. Shaking fingers touched my throat. Anastasio's hands seldom shook. He was always so confident, and his movements matched that confidence. So I was almost certain that it wasn't him. It occurred to me at that moment that I had probably hit my head on something very hard. The floor perhaps? Then I remembered being thrown across the room, and young Harry Potter, who could probably be found checking my pulse.
"Don't be dead. Please, don't be dead," I heard the young wizard whisper fervently.
"Anastasio?" I questioned ridiculously as I was gently rolled onto my back. My ears seemed to be ringing a bit too.
"No, it's Harry," he said, straightening my clothes and sniffling. I thought he was crying. Then I opened my good eye and knew it. "I'm ... I didn't mean to. I swear," he said, wiping his eyes on the sleeve on his pajamas.
I had a fair idea of what had happened, though my head was spinning. Harry had reacted out of blind instinct. No thought; no malice.
"It's all right," I said automatically. "Constant vigilance," I murmured almost approvingly. The young man had the reflexes of an Auror in the making. I couldn't say whether this was necessarily a good or bad thing at the moment as I was still somewhat stunned by the experience.
"Your eye ..." Harry began to tell me.
"Don't fuss, lad," I mumbled, reaching for my magical eye. I popped back in without a second thought. The world came into focus far better looking through it.
Harry shook me by the shoulder. I knew I probably had a dazed look on my face. I still felt still disoriented as I sat up, looking at my slightly askew wooden appendage. Harry slipped an arm behind me with a worried look as I began to adjust it. I wanted to tell him not to fuss again, but my head was still swimming. And whatever might have happened to Harry, he was still a good lad, in my opinion. I could tell that by looking at the guilt and tears in his green eyes.
"Alastor?" Harry questioned uncertainly, tightening his grip on my shoulder.
"I'm fine. Just a touch shaken up. That was quite a trick. Ever do that to your muggle relatives?" I questioned lightly, pushing my own jumbled thoughts aside for the moment.
"No, not exactly ... I didn't mean to ..."
"Extenuating circumstances. I understand perfectly," I nodded reassuringly.
"Thank you," said Harry quietly.
"There now, lad, no harm done," I told him, climbing not so gracefully to my feet. I was dizzy, but I surely didn't want Harry to see that. The pained look on his face was too much as it was. "Back to bed now. You shouldn't be up and about yet," I told him as he stood up shakily.
I, after sitting down in my chair and wincing slightly, could see the anxiety in Harry's eyes as he climbed back into bed. I could guess what he was thinking about.
"Don't do this to yourself, lad. There are many, many things in this world beyond your control," I said in a quiet voice.
"You know about Cedric and the tournament then?"
"Of course, and I know that you can't be blamed for anything that happened, including that young man's untimely death. Professor Dumbledore has informed me of everything I missed during my ... my absence," I told him, glancing away uncomfortably at the mention of my rather unpleasant term.
"It means a lot to hear you say that. I don't think you would lie to me, but, Alastor, you weren't there. You didn't see Cedric die," whispered Harry.
For an instant his words felt like a knife wound, and I found myself unable to look the young man in the eye.
"There's no use denying that. I wasn't there," I agreed quietly.
"That wasn't what I meant," he stammered. "I would never say anything like that."
"I know, lad. Calm down. And believe me what I tell you that what happened at the tournament wasn't your fault, Harry."
"I'll try."
"That's better."
After a pause Harry took a deep breath and asked me, "Do you remember very much about your ... your time ... that you were in that trunk?"
I didn't want to answer his question. Of course, it was only natural that he should be curious. I looked up and searched his eyes. There was curiosity in them, and perhaps pity, which was far worse.
I regarded him carefully before I answered, "I remember enough of it."
"I don't want to pry, but ..."
"Of course not, Harry, I understand that," I said with a slight nod.
Harry dropped his gaze, looking down awkwardly at his worn pajamas, and I frowned.
"Albus would just love this," I thought unpleasantly as I moved stiffly from the chair to the bed so that I could sit by Harry. The old wizard would be very pleased that I had finally found someone to whom I could not easily give gruff or flippant answers.
"Harry, you can ask me anything. I don't take offense very easily if that's what you're worried about," I told him. "Besides," I added, "I'll be asking you some questions soon enough."
"What was it like?" asked Harry, finding the nerve to look me in the eye again.
"Dark and cold mostly. Not very comfortable," I answered.
"I was there when the headmaster opened the trunk. I saw you then. I'm sorry. I just wanted to know ..." Harry said quietly. "Well, you see, I never suspected the impostor ... I mean, I had never met you and ... What I mean to say is ... I know what it's like to be locked in, to be a prisoner, to be alone and ... all of that, but, then, I don't know either because I always had hope of escape and my ... captors were only muggles."
I looked at Harry for a moment and managed a smile. His candor, though blunted with a certain youthful hesitance, was very endearing, and his observation about both us was a keen one.
"I suppose you understand well enough for one of your years. We have some common ground, you and I," I said, squeezing his shoulder gently. For some reason Harry didn't flinch away from me this time. But still, I wondered about something.
"Perhaps we do," he agreed.
"Now it's my turn to pose a question," I said. Harry nodded that I could. "Did any of your relatives ever touch you in a way that was inappropriate?" I asked him hesitantly.
"No, it was never like that. And Uncle Vernon only hit me when things weren't going so well at work or if he had had too much to drink. Dudley, my cousin, had a bad year at his school because all the other kids hate him, so he pushed me around more than usual. Knocked me down the stairs once. But, no, it never went farther than that sort of thing," replied Harry, obviously aware of the hidden depth in my question. "Not that you should feel sorry for me," he added quickly. "I don't need anyone's pity."
"Of course not, lad. We're in the same boat there. But you do need ... sympathy, perhaps, and understanding. You're too young to do without them."
Harry looked at me rather curiously and said, "I don't think it's possible for someone to outgrow the need for understanding."
"You sound like Albus when you say that," I chuckled. "But some of us, as we have gotten older, have found it necessary to do without that sort of thing, to be more ... more self-reliant than most people. In my case because of my work," I explained.
There was this look in his eyes at that moment that looked very much like the one James Potter used to get when looking at an injured colleague. Not pitying by any means, but softer than was the norm for someone in our profession. And I could see a bit of Lily in that gaze too.
"But ..." Harry started say, obviously wanting to argue with me.
"Yes?"
"It shouldn't have to be that way," he said, cautiously laying a hand on my arm.
I watched him tense as he made the simple, rather sweet gesture.
"He still has the heart of a child. And he expects a clout for it," I thought. I patted Harry's hand and smiled, wondering how such pluck and almost untainted innocence could exist in a boy who had had such a bad time of it. "Harry, you're a good lad," I managed, wanting to say much more, but my throat had tightened so that I could barely get the words out.
"Thank you," said Harry quietly.
"I think it's about time that you get some food in you. In my opinion you look like you haven't been eating right, and I intend to fix that," I said before Harry could say anything else on the subject.
I was very uncomfortable talking about what had happened and knew exactly why. The boy was doing precisely what Dumbledore himself had attempted to do and succeeding where the headmaster had met with very limited success. He was forcing me to talk about the incident, which is how I always characterized the matter. The word provided me with a certain professional detachment. What had transpired was merely an event to be listed as a footnote on the log sheet of a very competent and capable Auror who had filled many a cell in Azkaban prison. It was not fodder for the mindless ramblings of a crippled old man who was long past his prime and hardly useful to anyone, least of all himself.
But there was something special about Harry that made him easier to talk to. I would never have thought it true, but I admitted that he had an air about him not unlike Albus Dumbledore's, though he was still too young to be considered a powerful wizard. It was almost mystifying considering the abusive circumstances from which I had removed Harry. I would have thought that such treatment would dim that light, that aura of both potential and compassion that I had noticed around the boy as he struggled to reach out.
"Alastor?" he questioned, reclining and yawning softly as I left the bed. "Am I going to be allowed to stay here with you this summer? Or ... is this just temporary?"
I turned quickly and looked at Harry incredulously. I was bowled over by what he had just said. Or what I thought he was saying.
"Do you want to stay?" I inquired carefully.
"If ... If you would let me. I feel ... please, don't be angry ..."
"I won't," I promised, watching a pleading and fearful look come into his eyes.
"I feel safe here."
"Even after the incident earlier?"
"You didn't even yell at me for it or anything," said Harry with a nod and look of disbelief that could not be concealed.
"Because it was an accident. Because you're ill, Harry," I said patiently, hoping that he would understand and listen to me when I told him that.
"You see, that's why I feel safe here ... with you," he said with a slightly trembling smile.
"Then I suppose it would be perfectly fine for you spend the rest of the summer here," I said, feeling rather amazed. I had never imagined that he would want to stay.
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A/N: The writing isn't going very well, which is why this is being updated so slowly. That, and the fact that ff.net goes down whenever I want to upload.
Von: The reason that the entire previous chapter was a flashback is because when I read stories, I don't really like it when authors skip around through time. Just personal preference. I never realized other people liked it the other way (a mix of both). I think I answered most of your questions within the chapter. I found your review to be very helpful. Thank you!
Silver Angel: Character pasts (especially the mysterious ones) really interest me. Thank you for reviewing!
juggling stars: I tried to keep the disgustingness to a minimum, but ... that's how it goes. And severe burns generally are very gross. Thanks for the review!
NightSpear: Okay, back to the present. Thanks for reviewing!
Jasmine Black: Thank you for the review!
Cataclysmic: Thank you!
A-Class Sarah: Thank you for reviewing!
Lady FoxFire: I'm glad you're enjoying the story. I imagine it is tough to find since Moody isn't available on the character list. Thank you for the reviews!
Relle: I like longer chapters better too, but ... I'm having trouble writing them. Thanks for reviewing!
Just another incident
Something damp touched my face. I wasn't quite certain what it was. But I did know that it wasn't 1978 and that my left arm wasn't the only thing that hurt. I moved slightly and a groan escaped my lips. Nothing felt broken, but everything felt bruised and battered. Shaking fingers touched my throat. Anastasio's hands seldom shook. He was always so confident, and his movements matched that confidence. So I was almost certain that it wasn't him. It occurred to me at that moment that I had probably hit my head on something very hard. The floor perhaps? Then I remembered being thrown across the room, and young Harry Potter, who could probably be found checking my pulse.
"Don't be dead. Please, don't be dead," I heard the young wizard whisper fervently.
"Anastasio?" I questioned ridiculously as I was gently rolled onto my back. My ears seemed to be ringing a bit too.
"No, it's Harry," he said, straightening my clothes and sniffling. I thought he was crying. Then I opened my good eye and knew it. "I'm ... I didn't mean to. I swear," he said, wiping his eyes on the sleeve on his pajamas.
I had a fair idea of what had happened, though my head was spinning. Harry had reacted out of blind instinct. No thought; no malice.
"It's all right," I said automatically. "Constant vigilance," I murmured almost approvingly. The young man had the reflexes of an Auror in the making. I couldn't say whether this was necessarily a good or bad thing at the moment as I was still somewhat stunned by the experience.
"Your eye ..." Harry began to tell me.
"Don't fuss, lad," I mumbled, reaching for my magical eye. I popped back in without a second thought. The world came into focus far better looking through it.
Harry shook me by the shoulder. I knew I probably had a dazed look on my face. I still felt still disoriented as I sat up, looking at my slightly askew wooden appendage. Harry slipped an arm behind me with a worried look as I began to adjust it. I wanted to tell him not to fuss again, but my head was still swimming. And whatever might have happened to Harry, he was still a good lad, in my opinion. I could tell that by looking at the guilt and tears in his green eyes.
"Alastor?" Harry questioned uncertainly, tightening his grip on my shoulder.
"I'm fine. Just a touch shaken up. That was quite a trick. Ever do that to your muggle relatives?" I questioned lightly, pushing my own jumbled thoughts aside for the moment.
"No, not exactly ... I didn't mean to ..."
"Extenuating circumstances. I understand perfectly," I nodded reassuringly.
"Thank you," said Harry quietly.
"There now, lad, no harm done," I told him, climbing not so gracefully to my feet. I was dizzy, but I surely didn't want Harry to see that. The pained look on his face was too much as it was. "Back to bed now. You shouldn't be up and about yet," I told him as he stood up shakily.
I, after sitting down in my chair and wincing slightly, could see the anxiety in Harry's eyes as he climbed back into bed. I could guess what he was thinking about.
"Don't do this to yourself, lad. There are many, many things in this world beyond your control," I said in a quiet voice.
"You know about Cedric and the tournament then?"
"Of course, and I know that you can't be blamed for anything that happened, including that young man's untimely death. Professor Dumbledore has informed me of everything I missed during my ... my absence," I told him, glancing away uncomfortably at the mention of my rather unpleasant term.
"It means a lot to hear you say that. I don't think you would lie to me, but, Alastor, you weren't there. You didn't see Cedric die," whispered Harry.
For an instant his words felt like a knife wound, and I found myself unable to look the young man in the eye.
"There's no use denying that. I wasn't there," I agreed quietly.
"That wasn't what I meant," he stammered. "I would never say anything like that."
"I know, lad. Calm down. And believe me what I tell you that what happened at the tournament wasn't your fault, Harry."
"I'll try."
"That's better."
After a pause Harry took a deep breath and asked me, "Do you remember very much about your ... your time ... that you were in that trunk?"
I didn't want to answer his question. Of course, it was only natural that he should be curious. I looked up and searched his eyes. There was curiosity in them, and perhaps pity, which was far worse.
I regarded him carefully before I answered, "I remember enough of it."
"I don't want to pry, but ..."
"Of course not, Harry, I understand that," I said with a slight nod.
Harry dropped his gaze, looking down awkwardly at his worn pajamas, and I frowned.
"Albus would just love this," I thought unpleasantly as I moved stiffly from the chair to the bed so that I could sit by Harry. The old wizard would be very pleased that I had finally found someone to whom I could not easily give gruff or flippant answers.
"Harry, you can ask me anything. I don't take offense very easily if that's what you're worried about," I told him. "Besides," I added, "I'll be asking you some questions soon enough."
"What was it like?" asked Harry, finding the nerve to look me in the eye again.
"Dark and cold mostly. Not very comfortable," I answered.
"I was there when the headmaster opened the trunk. I saw you then. I'm sorry. I just wanted to know ..." Harry said quietly. "Well, you see, I never suspected the impostor ... I mean, I had never met you and ... What I mean to say is ... I know what it's like to be locked in, to be a prisoner, to be alone and ... all of that, but, then, I don't know either because I always had hope of escape and my ... captors were only muggles."
I looked at Harry for a moment and managed a smile. His candor, though blunted with a certain youthful hesitance, was very endearing, and his observation about both us was a keen one.
"I suppose you understand well enough for one of your years. We have some common ground, you and I," I said, squeezing his shoulder gently. For some reason Harry didn't flinch away from me this time. But still, I wondered about something.
"Perhaps we do," he agreed.
"Now it's my turn to pose a question," I said. Harry nodded that I could. "Did any of your relatives ever touch you in a way that was inappropriate?" I asked him hesitantly.
"No, it was never like that. And Uncle Vernon only hit me when things weren't going so well at work or if he had had too much to drink. Dudley, my cousin, had a bad year at his school because all the other kids hate him, so he pushed me around more than usual. Knocked me down the stairs once. But, no, it never went farther than that sort of thing," replied Harry, obviously aware of the hidden depth in my question. "Not that you should feel sorry for me," he added quickly. "I don't need anyone's pity."
"Of course not, lad. We're in the same boat there. But you do need ... sympathy, perhaps, and understanding. You're too young to do without them."
Harry looked at me rather curiously and said, "I don't think it's possible for someone to outgrow the need for understanding."
"You sound like Albus when you say that," I chuckled. "But some of us, as we have gotten older, have found it necessary to do without that sort of thing, to be more ... more self-reliant than most people. In my case because of my work," I explained.
There was this look in his eyes at that moment that looked very much like the one James Potter used to get when looking at an injured colleague. Not pitying by any means, but softer than was the norm for someone in our profession. And I could see a bit of Lily in that gaze too.
"But ..." Harry started say, obviously wanting to argue with me.
"Yes?"
"It shouldn't have to be that way," he said, cautiously laying a hand on my arm.
I watched him tense as he made the simple, rather sweet gesture.
"He still has the heart of a child. And he expects a clout for it," I thought. I patted Harry's hand and smiled, wondering how such pluck and almost untainted innocence could exist in a boy who had had such a bad time of it. "Harry, you're a good lad," I managed, wanting to say much more, but my throat had tightened so that I could barely get the words out.
"Thank you," said Harry quietly.
"I think it's about time that you get some food in you. In my opinion you look like you haven't been eating right, and I intend to fix that," I said before Harry could say anything else on the subject.
I was very uncomfortable talking about what had happened and knew exactly why. The boy was doing precisely what Dumbledore himself had attempted to do and succeeding where the headmaster had met with very limited success. He was forcing me to talk about the incident, which is how I always characterized the matter. The word provided me with a certain professional detachment. What had transpired was merely an event to be listed as a footnote on the log sheet of a very competent and capable Auror who had filled many a cell in Azkaban prison. It was not fodder for the mindless ramblings of a crippled old man who was long past his prime and hardly useful to anyone, least of all himself.
But there was something special about Harry that made him easier to talk to. I would never have thought it true, but I admitted that he had an air about him not unlike Albus Dumbledore's, though he was still too young to be considered a powerful wizard. It was almost mystifying considering the abusive circumstances from which I had removed Harry. I would have thought that such treatment would dim that light, that aura of both potential and compassion that I had noticed around the boy as he struggled to reach out.
"Alastor?" he questioned, reclining and yawning softly as I left the bed. "Am I going to be allowed to stay here with you this summer? Or ... is this just temporary?"
I turned quickly and looked at Harry incredulously. I was bowled over by what he had just said. Or what I thought he was saying.
"Do you want to stay?" I inquired carefully.
"If ... If you would let me. I feel ... please, don't be angry ..."
"I won't," I promised, watching a pleading and fearful look come into his eyes.
"I feel safe here."
"Even after the incident earlier?"
"You didn't even yell at me for it or anything," said Harry with a nod and look of disbelief that could not be concealed.
"Because it was an accident. Because you're ill, Harry," I said patiently, hoping that he would understand and listen to me when I told him that.
"You see, that's why I feel safe here ... with you," he said with a slightly trembling smile.
"Then I suppose it would be perfectly fine for you spend the rest of the summer here," I said, feeling rather amazed. I had never imagined that he would want to stay.
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A/N: The writing isn't going very well, which is why this is being updated so slowly. That, and the fact that ff.net goes down whenever I want to upload.
Von: The reason that the entire previous chapter was a flashback is because when I read stories, I don't really like it when authors skip around through time. Just personal preference. I never realized other people liked it the other way (a mix of both). I think I answered most of your questions within the chapter. I found your review to be very helpful. Thank you!
Silver Angel: Character pasts (especially the mysterious ones) really interest me. Thank you for reviewing!
juggling stars: I tried to keep the disgustingness to a minimum, but ... that's how it goes. And severe burns generally are very gross. Thanks for the review!
NightSpear: Okay, back to the present. Thanks for reviewing!
Jasmine Black: Thank you for the review!
Cataclysmic: Thank you!
A-Class Sarah: Thank you for reviewing!
Lady FoxFire: I'm glad you're enjoying the story. I imagine it is tough to find since Moody isn't available on the character list. Thank you for the reviews!
Relle: I like longer chapters better too, but ... I'm having trouble writing them. Thanks for reviewing!