Hello
I'm your mind giving you someone to talk to,
Hello
(Evanescence)
CHAPTER 2 – 'You've gotten yourself into quite a fix'
The arrival at Hogwarts signified a dramatic relapse in Harry's mood.
Hermione and Ron sent furtive glances at each other, which Harry couldn't help but notice.
An uneasy feeling had settled in the pit of his stomach despite his best attempts to shake it and Harry mourned the loss of his earlier appetite keenly.
The three friends stepped out onto the platform and were greeted by the sort of pelting rain that frequents much of Britain in the autumn.
"Bloody rain."
Grumbled Ron, whilst tightening his cloak and hurrying towards the nearby carriages.
Hermione was about to do likewise when she noticed Harry's stillness.
"Harry?"
She probed reaching towards her motionless friend.
The-Boy-Who-Lived didn't move.
"Ron! Come back!"
She called, turning away to summon the redhead to her aid.
On turning back Hermione's heart hammered as she was met with empty space.
"Harry!"
She shrieked glancing frantically about the crowded platform.
"What is it Herm?"
Asked Ron who had rejoined her.
Hermione suddenly caught sight of their friend and pointed in Harry's direction.
Ron paled as the sight reached his eyes.
Standing several metres away, with slumped shoulders, rain coursing down his slight form stood Harry Potter…
And in front of him stood Cedric Diggory,
perfectly etched in stone,
smiling with modest bravery and holding an unmoving stone snitch in his clasped stone fist.
---
For several moments Harry just stared at the statue only half comprehending.
Cedric's face.
The face that had haunted his dreams ever since his fourth year stared back at him.
Harry sensed accusation in the stone cold eyes.
He barely noticed the rain that soaked him through, nor did he notice that his glasses were speckled with droplets that travelled slowly across his vision.
Dimly, at the back of his mind, Harry knew that someone was calling his name, and he had a faint sense of being held. But all he could see was Cedric's face.
Even as he closed his eyes against the tears, the visage remained.
And soon it was joined by the face of his godfather. He felt himself start to shake as he relived the torment of watching as the man closest to a father fell backwards through The Veil and was lost to him forever.
As if Harry's moment of weakness had been realised, Voldemort chose that moment to send a wave of unconquerable pain through the link they shared.
Yelling silent screams and clawing desperately at the scar on his forehead, Harry crumpled to the ground, meeting the wet floor with a thump.
The words Avada Kedavra formed his last coherent thought before Harry's body gave out on him.
***
The bright white light was merciless to his eyes as he fought to prise them open.
Harry realised after one frightening moment that he was safe in the Hogwarts infirmary and that the light was in fact dimmer than his eyes had suggested.
His scar thrummed with an ache that had become second nature, but which thankfully no longer burned.
He started struggling to sit up and immediately regretted it. The customary post-Voldemort-scar-pain headache was upon him in an instant.
Feeling slightly dizzy Harry realised that he was still in his soaking wet robes and that his rain-speckled glasses were hanging from one ear.
Feeling slightly uneasy Harry braved the worsening of his headache in order to get a look around the room.
It was completely empty.
Even Madame Pomfrey was no-where to be seen.
Not knowing quite what he ought to do Harry removed his glasses from their precarious position and wiped them dry on a patch of dry bed sheet.
Glancing guiltily at the sodden bed he wondered who had brought him here and why he'd been left there all alone.
As it happened Madame Pomfrey burst into the room a second later, immediately followed by…
Professor Snape.
Harry watched them wearily as they hurried towards him, his head pounded with every little noise, their footsteps alone had him suppressing a flinch as each one fell.
"You're awake!"
Harry had to wince at the matron's exclamation, he once again had to force his eyes open and almost let them slam closed again when he saw Madame Pomfrey's concerned face peering down at him.
He glanced at Snape who was regarding him with a calculating stare, and he wondered for a moment what Snape would have to say about his silencing potion but that thought was quickly crushed by a wave of some indescribable emotion, which effortlessly overpowered his barriers.
Suddenly, to his eternal shame he found himself crying. Silent tears coursed down his face and his body involuntarily hitched with sobs causing the pain in his head to multiply.
He vaguely noted that Pomfrey and Snape seemed in argument over something but he couldn't manage to focus on them, Cedric's face was once again in his vision, his worst memories once again began to replay themselves in his mind…
~~~
'We both got here. Let's just take it together'…
…'Wands out, d'you reckon?'…
…'Someone's coming.'…
…'Kill the spare… Avada Kedavra!'
'SIRIUS! SIRIUS!'…
'There's nothing you can do, Harry-'…
'Get him, save him, he's only just gone through!'…
'-it's too late, Harry.'…
'We can still reach him – '…
"There's nothing you can do, Harry … nothing … he's gone.'
~~~
Harry's eyes shot open again, memories of his most recent vision flooded back.
He looked at Snape and wondered whether or not the ex-Death Eater knew what had happened.
Moving slowly so as to avoid jarring his head needlessly Harry reached over and pulled on the potions professor's sleeve.
He once again motioned for quill and parchment hoping that the professor would recognise the urgency in his slightly sluggish motions.
Snape seemed to respond that way and summoned a quill and parchment from Pomfrey's desk.
Harry made a conscious effort to steady his hand of its slight tremors before carefully scratching out the words.
'Karkaroff dead'
The sallow face of Harry's least favourite teacher paled even further as Snape made out his writing and Harry slumped against his pillows in relief when Snape hurried out of the Hospital Wing in order to fetch the headmaster from the sorting feast.
The sudden uproar that emanated from the corridor outside the Hospital Wing caught Harry's attention.
He recognised his two best friends' voices immediately and sent an imploring look at the matron, which she promptly misinterpreted.
"I will not be letting those two in here until I've given you a thorough checking over young man! I don't know what you were thinking… Home-made potions… swooning fits…"
And as Poppy Pomfrey continued to rant Harry took a moment to be immensely glad that the woman was so adamant and territorial over her Hospital Wing.
The last thing Harry wanted at the moment was his best friends.
They'd be worried.
He didn't want them concerned any further when the whole truth came out.
***
The 'thorough checking over' was horribly embarrassing for Harry. He reluctantly allowed the Hogwarts matron to see his overly skinny frame and the unnatural pallor of his skin.
He explained about the slight bruising of his shoulders where his Uncle's fingers had left marks from his over-enthusiastic shaking.
Eventually the ordeal was over and Harry just stared at the floor ignoring the pity of the matron.
Once Harry was changed into Hospital pyjamas, Madame Pomfrey allowed Professor Snape back in and the potions master was unable to conceal his surprise at seeing Harry's skinny frame now shed of thick robes.
After an uncomfortable pause the Professor frowned and gave Harry a fresh piece of parchment.
"Dumbledore will be along as soon as he is able to leave the Sorting Feast. For now, I want you to write down everything you can remember about this potion you claim to have taken."
Harry didn't meet his teacher's eyes and quickly scrawled down the name of the potion.
"The Mutius Potion. And you brewed it yourself Potter?"
Asked Snape, eyebrow raised in scepticism.
Harry nodded still refusing to look Snape in the eye.
"Well, it seems you've gotten yourself into quite a fix then."
Snape growled, raising his voice.
Harry looked up with a questioning glance.
"I cannot brew the antidote to this potion. The antidote will only be effective when brewed by the same person that brewed the original potion."
Harry's head sunk to his hands in shame. 'Why hadn't he bothered to research the antidote?'
"To make matters yet more hopeless, the antidote in question is of a level that it would take a wizard of advanced skill in potions to brew it. And of course, with your 'Exceeds Expectations' OWL result, which in itself seemed to be highly suspicious in its generosity to my mind, we can safely say that you are not."
Harry shivered under Snape's steely gaze. The potions professor was wrong. It was a lot more serious then 'quite a fix'.
Quickly though, the unwelcome gaze of the potion's master dissolved in blackness and Harry was acutely aware of the sweeping flash of pain through his head as he fell back against the mattress of the hospital bed.
He was frightened.
It hadn't been this bad since Voldemort had actually possessed him at the Department of Mysteries last year.
The hospital wing faded slightly until only faint shapes were distinguishable, the predominant scene before Harry's eyes was far more terrifying than Madame Pomfrey's sterile domain.
He was seeing through Voldemort's eyes…
~~~
The velvet darkness of night shrouded the gathered Death Eaters.
Their pale masks were faintly illuminated by the glare of the waxing moon.
'Crucio.'
The wizard, who had finally been the one to betray Igor Karkaroff to the Death Eaters, writhed before him.
He felt no compassion for the miserable creature.
'Finite Incantatum.'
The magical bindings that had been holding the man upright disappeared and his body slumped to the ground.
With a hiss of parseltongue the man's life was nullified.
'Avada Kedavra' was the incantation, spoken in a snake's voice.
~~~
"Harry! Please wake up!"
Hermione's frantic screaming seemed distant, the sound of flames crackling was more prominent.
Harry desperately wanted to wake up. But he was still between worlds. The burning body of Voldemort's hapless victim was before him, but a vague image of Hermione's terrified face superimposed the image and Harry's scar flared with pain.
"No, please!" He tried to shout.
No sound came out.
The pain through his head was amplified and Harry could feel himself screaming even if it was inaudible.
Gradually, with agonising slowness, his mind recoiled from Voldemort and like water flowing downstream it steadily found its way back to Hogwarts, The Hospital Wing, and the frantic screaming and shouting.
He promptly closed his eyes unwilling to see anything.
The chaos was noisy.
There was too much noise.
At least Hermione had stopped screaming at him.
But did the rest of them have to shout so loudly?
Suddenly though, there was quiet.
Harry didn't need to open his eyes, for he could sense the other wizard's presence.
Dumbledore.
All of the panic and fear and tension seemed to flow from Harry, he felt himself sink onto the bed and realised that he'd been unconsciously tensed up.
Soothing calm went through his body and he eventually managed to drag his eyes open.
Dumbledore was there, his back to Harry, firmly closing the Hospital Wing door and shutting out the noise and chaos.