2. Imperius Eyes
Harry stared at them before excusing himself and slumping upstairs. His head was pounding with rage, fear, sadness, and unanswered questions. He looked at the clock in the hallway. It read 8:30, but Harry didn't care what time it was. It was sort of a habit that he got into a year before his first year at Hogwarts. He reluctantly got dressed into his night clothes and collapsed onto his bed. Hedwig's amber eyes lit the room and Harry decided he'd write Hermione and Ron in the morning about his aunt's sympathy towards Sirius. The darkness felt good on his red and puffy eyes. He removed his glasses and closed his heavy eyelids. Before Harry had time to collect his thoughts about the day, he was lost in a deep sleep.
Once again Harry found himself in the Ministry of Magic, only this time, he was in the lobby, not the Department of Mysteries. The gold fountain that had obviously been repaired was the only shine in the room. The fireplaces had lost their gleam. The wood floor had turned dull and dusty. Cob webs were everywhere. It was like the place was abandoned. Harry wondered to the grille of the elevator, hoping to find that the floor that Mr. Weasley worked at was full of life. To his disappointment, the grille was locked. The phone booth leading to the entrance to the Ministry was on the ground in pieces. There was no sense of life anywhere. All of the sudden a shadow from behind the wizard of the fountain caught Harry's eye. It stared at him. The only visibly part of this shadow were its eyes. One was green with a black slit, the other crimson with a gold slit. Harry stood, transfixed by these eyes. The shadow moved away into the light. A short, plump woman, with the body of a toad stood facing him. She wore a big plumb hat and a smile was spread across her face. Curls of her mousy grey hair peeked out from under the oversized hat. Her cold, snake like eyes gazed into his.
"Professor Umbridge?" Harry managed to ask. The woman strode a little closer to him.
"In her body, but it's not quite her," said a deep, hissing male voice that took the place of Umbridge's shrill, girlish one. Harry stared in horror. He had heard this voice before; in the graveyard where Cedric died, and right here, right by the fountain last year.
"Is, is she..is she dead?" Harry asked stupidly. Professor Umbridge took another step closer to Harry. His legs seemed to fail him, though he didn't know where to run if they did work.
"You're not as smart as I thought you were Potter. Does she look dead to you?! She's simply under the Imperius Curse! Can't you see it in her eyes?" the voice spat. Harry felt violently ill. It had never occurred to him that this voice of the Dark Lord had once been able to see into his thoughts. Professor Umbridge's smile widened.
"You thought I had no weapon left didn't you Potter? After your idiot friend dropped the Prophecy."
"Yes. Neville is an idiot isn't he?" Harry asked the voice. Umbridge's smile faded.
"You agreed with me Potter?" The smile flickered back on. Harry stood still, rooted to the spot.
"Yes I believe I did. Neville can never do anything right. He's such a waste of creation," Harry snickered. Professor Umbridge strode so close to Harry that he could smell her breath. It smelt like rotting, deteriorating flesh. Her eyes burned green and red. There was a fiery resemblance about them. Her fake smile crept along her cheeks.
"Wouldn't it be easier Potter," the voice whispered, "to just give in? To give into me and forget it all? To forget about your troubles at school? Grades? Girls? Friends? Sirius? Wouldn't that just make life a lot easier?" Harry had a glazed look in his eye. He smiled and said: "Yes. Yes Lord Voldemort." Professor Umbridge whipped out a wand and pointed it at Harry's heart.
"Liar! It wouldn't be easier! You'd turn me in! You know what would be easier Potter? IF I WERE TO KILL YOU! AVADA KEDAVRA!" A green wisp of energy shot out from the end of Professor Umbridge's wand. Her face was hidden behind a sullen, white, sunken in one with red eyes. Laughter shook the Ministry walls. He lied lifeless on the floor. Then two glowing eyes appeared. One foggy green with a black slit, the other crimson with a gold slit. All went black.
Harry shot back into consciousness. His scar seared with pain. The unbearable heat did nothing to make it better. He was sweating a cold sweat. His eyes were blurry. He grabbed his glasses and stared into the hot black of the room. He tried to get up, but an excruciating pain in his chest made him fall to the floor. He touched where the curse would have hit him. It felt hot and burnt. The pain of his scar and chest was too much. He vomited onto the floor. This woke up Hedwig who was not happy about not getting any sleep. She started thrashing around in her cage. Harry could not stop vomiting. A light clicked on in the hall and Harry heard the heavy footsteps of Uncle Vernon treading their way to his door.
"What the devil is going on in-" Uncle Vernon's words were cut off by the sudden sound of Harry heaving onto the floor. Uncle Vernon switched on the light. His scar and chest pounded against him and he threw up again.
"Turn it off! Turn it off! It-" he vomited. "It hurts! It's too bright!" His vomiting had subsided and he shakily hoisted himself onto his bed. His night clothes were covered in sweat and vomit. The place in his chest where he had been hit with the curse started feeling wet. Harry looked down and saw blood seep through his clothes. Uncle Vernon stumbled around Harry's vomit and over to his bed.
"What the HELL happened?" he screamed in Harry's face. Uncle Vernon's words were barely audible to Harry. His mind was swollen with fear and he felt dizzy. The summer heat washed over him and the smell of sick tickled his nose. In the background, he could still hear Uncle Vernon mumbling nonsense and then calling for Aunt Petunia. She, bleary eyed, stumbled in and looked into the blackness of the room. She switched on a light and Harry's eyes burned.
"Turn it off Petunia or he'll chuck again!" Uncle Vernon was yelling. She took one glance around the room and then ran towards the bathroom. Harry lay there, sweating uncontrollably. This by far was the worst dream he had ever had of Voldemort. As he started breathing more slowly and his pain slowly decreased, Uncle Vernon's words became more understandable.
".Got to get you to a hospital boy," he snarled through gritted teeth. "In the middle of the bloody night! You know how much this is going to cost me?"
" You.you can't!" Harry shouted. "I might get my 'needed items' letter tomorrow and an owl flying through the hospital might.might," he stuttered. He wanted an excuse to not go to the hospital. It would be worse there. A bunch of muggle doctors diagnosing him with weird sicknesses and using unfamiliar practices was not what Harry needed right now.
"Spit it out!" Uncle Vernon demanded.
"Might get terrified and then get suspicious and you.you would be humiliated." Uncle Vernon stood over Harry, carefully considering this.
"I don't want you throwing up the whole night! I have work in the morning!" Uncle Vernon said after a while. Damn! Harry thought.
"Well it was probably just the heat and I'm fine now and think of all the money you'd be saving," Harry goaded. Uncle Vernon shot Harry a very nasty look, not wanting to admit he was right, he turned on his heel and walked away.
"You'll clean this up in the morning. Understood?" he said heading back to his bedroom. Harry waited a few minutes then cracked his window open a little more. The smell of his vomit was gagging him. He stared at the dark ceiling. It seemed to move back and forth in a swinging motion. Harry felt like he was about to pass out. He closed his eyes and let the comfort of silence and the quiet rhythm of chirping crickets lull him back to sleep. He had just nodded off when a swooping noise grew louder and louder in his ear. He opened his eyes to see the outline of an owl. Harry stuck out his arm cautiously to allow the owl to come to him. It accepted his offer and walked to his elbow. The eyes were red and green. Harry yelled in horror, reliving his nightmare. Uncle Vernon came rushing into the room to find the Harry yelling at a harmless owl.
"Taking you to see the family therapist tomorrow after work!! And would you shut up?" Uncle Vernon screamed as he slammed his door shut again. Harry was whimpering now. The owl, upset that he had been shrieked at, stuck out its leg impatiently so that Harry could read the letter. He cautiously reached toward the leg and untied the letter. The owl took flight before waiting for him to read as it had done the previous time. It was from Professor Umbridge.
Better watch what you're dreaming about Potter!
~Professor Umbridge
(Signed professor for a reason. Ha ha)
Harry felt as if a lead ball had just been dropped in the pit of his stomach. He fought back the urge to vomit again and tore up the letter. How did she know about my dream? And why did she sign under professor? He decided the first thing tomorrow morning, before cleaning up the sickness all over the floor, he would write to Ron and Hermione and tell them everything, even if his letter was intercepted. Then a new wave of terror consumed him. The family therapist, yet another muggle doctor. How could he explain to him his dream?
"Why does every summer go wrong?" he asked himself out loud. The summer of his first year, chaos was caused when he set a boa constrictor free and set it on Dudley. His second year summer was horrible when Dobby upset everyone by dumping pudding on Mrs. Mason's head. During his third year summer, Aunt Marge inflated like a big air balloon, fourth summer: he had that terrible dream of the Riddle house and in his last year's summer, dementors acted both him and Dudley and he was forced to attack them with a patronus, causing him to almost be expelled. Now this summer he was dealing with the loss of Sirius and now he had to go see a therapist. What else is new? Harry thought to himself before falling back asleep, dreading tomorrow night.
Harry stared at them before excusing himself and slumping upstairs. His head was pounding with rage, fear, sadness, and unanswered questions. He looked at the clock in the hallway. It read 8:30, but Harry didn't care what time it was. It was sort of a habit that he got into a year before his first year at Hogwarts. He reluctantly got dressed into his night clothes and collapsed onto his bed. Hedwig's amber eyes lit the room and Harry decided he'd write Hermione and Ron in the morning about his aunt's sympathy towards Sirius. The darkness felt good on his red and puffy eyes. He removed his glasses and closed his heavy eyelids. Before Harry had time to collect his thoughts about the day, he was lost in a deep sleep.
Once again Harry found himself in the Ministry of Magic, only this time, he was in the lobby, not the Department of Mysteries. The gold fountain that had obviously been repaired was the only shine in the room. The fireplaces had lost their gleam. The wood floor had turned dull and dusty. Cob webs were everywhere. It was like the place was abandoned. Harry wondered to the grille of the elevator, hoping to find that the floor that Mr. Weasley worked at was full of life. To his disappointment, the grille was locked. The phone booth leading to the entrance to the Ministry was on the ground in pieces. There was no sense of life anywhere. All of the sudden a shadow from behind the wizard of the fountain caught Harry's eye. It stared at him. The only visibly part of this shadow were its eyes. One was green with a black slit, the other crimson with a gold slit. Harry stood, transfixed by these eyes. The shadow moved away into the light. A short, plump woman, with the body of a toad stood facing him. She wore a big plumb hat and a smile was spread across her face. Curls of her mousy grey hair peeked out from under the oversized hat. Her cold, snake like eyes gazed into his.
"Professor Umbridge?" Harry managed to ask. The woman strode a little closer to him.
"In her body, but it's not quite her," said a deep, hissing male voice that took the place of Umbridge's shrill, girlish one. Harry stared in horror. He had heard this voice before; in the graveyard where Cedric died, and right here, right by the fountain last year.
"Is, is she..is she dead?" Harry asked stupidly. Professor Umbridge took another step closer to Harry. His legs seemed to fail him, though he didn't know where to run if they did work.
"You're not as smart as I thought you were Potter. Does she look dead to you?! She's simply under the Imperius Curse! Can't you see it in her eyes?" the voice spat. Harry felt violently ill. It had never occurred to him that this voice of the Dark Lord had once been able to see into his thoughts. Professor Umbridge's smile widened.
"You thought I had no weapon left didn't you Potter? After your idiot friend dropped the Prophecy."
"Yes. Neville is an idiot isn't he?" Harry asked the voice. Umbridge's smile faded.
"You agreed with me Potter?" The smile flickered back on. Harry stood still, rooted to the spot.
"Yes I believe I did. Neville can never do anything right. He's such a waste of creation," Harry snickered. Professor Umbridge strode so close to Harry that he could smell her breath. It smelt like rotting, deteriorating flesh. Her eyes burned green and red. There was a fiery resemblance about them. Her fake smile crept along her cheeks.
"Wouldn't it be easier Potter," the voice whispered, "to just give in? To give into me and forget it all? To forget about your troubles at school? Grades? Girls? Friends? Sirius? Wouldn't that just make life a lot easier?" Harry had a glazed look in his eye. He smiled and said: "Yes. Yes Lord Voldemort." Professor Umbridge whipped out a wand and pointed it at Harry's heart.
"Liar! It wouldn't be easier! You'd turn me in! You know what would be easier Potter? IF I WERE TO KILL YOU! AVADA KEDAVRA!" A green wisp of energy shot out from the end of Professor Umbridge's wand. Her face was hidden behind a sullen, white, sunken in one with red eyes. Laughter shook the Ministry walls. He lied lifeless on the floor. Then two glowing eyes appeared. One foggy green with a black slit, the other crimson with a gold slit. All went black.
Harry shot back into consciousness. His scar seared with pain. The unbearable heat did nothing to make it better. He was sweating a cold sweat. His eyes were blurry. He grabbed his glasses and stared into the hot black of the room. He tried to get up, but an excruciating pain in his chest made him fall to the floor. He touched where the curse would have hit him. It felt hot and burnt. The pain of his scar and chest was too much. He vomited onto the floor. This woke up Hedwig who was not happy about not getting any sleep. She started thrashing around in her cage. Harry could not stop vomiting. A light clicked on in the hall and Harry heard the heavy footsteps of Uncle Vernon treading their way to his door.
"What the devil is going on in-" Uncle Vernon's words were cut off by the sudden sound of Harry heaving onto the floor. Uncle Vernon switched on the light. His scar and chest pounded against him and he threw up again.
"Turn it off! Turn it off! It-" he vomited. "It hurts! It's too bright!" His vomiting had subsided and he shakily hoisted himself onto his bed. His night clothes were covered in sweat and vomit. The place in his chest where he had been hit with the curse started feeling wet. Harry looked down and saw blood seep through his clothes. Uncle Vernon stumbled around Harry's vomit and over to his bed.
"What the HELL happened?" he screamed in Harry's face. Uncle Vernon's words were barely audible to Harry. His mind was swollen with fear and he felt dizzy. The summer heat washed over him and the smell of sick tickled his nose. In the background, he could still hear Uncle Vernon mumbling nonsense and then calling for Aunt Petunia. She, bleary eyed, stumbled in and looked into the blackness of the room. She switched on a light and Harry's eyes burned.
"Turn it off Petunia or he'll chuck again!" Uncle Vernon was yelling. She took one glance around the room and then ran towards the bathroom. Harry lay there, sweating uncontrollably. This by far was the worst dream he had ever had of Voldemort. As he started breathing more slowly and his pain slowly decreased, Uncle Vernon's words became more understandable.
".Got to get you to a hospital boy," he snarled through gritted teeth. "In the middle of the bloody night! You know how much this is going to cost me?"
" You.you can't!" Harry shouted. "I might get my 'needed items' letter tomorrow and an owl flying through the hospital might.might," he stuttered. He wanted an excuse to not go to the hospital. It would be worse there. A bunch of muggle doctors diagnosing him with weird sicknesses and using unfamiliar practices was not what Harry needed right now.
"Spit it out!" Uncle Vernon demanded.
"Might get terrified and then get suspicious and you.you would be humiliated." Uncle Vernon stood over Harry, carefully considering this.
"I don't want you throwing up the whole night! I have work in the morning!" Uncle Vernon said after a while. Damn! Harry thought.
"Well it was probably just the heat and I'm fine now and think of all the money you'd be saving," Harry goaded. Uncle Vernon shot Harry a very nasty look, not wanting to admit he was right, he turned on his heel and walked away.
"You'll clean this up in the morning. Understood?" he said heading back to his bedroom. Harry waited a few minutes then cracked his window open a little more. The smell of his vomit was gagging him. He stared at the dark ceiling. It seemed to move back and forth in a swinging motion. Harry felt like he was about to pass out. He closed his eyes and let the comfort of silence and the quiet rhythm of chirping crickets lull him back to sleep. He had just nodded off when a swooping noise grew louder and louder in his ear. He opened his eyes to see the outline of an owl. Harry stuck out his arm cautiously to allow the owl to come to him. It accepted his offer and walked to his elbow. The eyes were red and green. Harry yelled in horror, reliving his nightmare. Uncle Vernon came rushing into the room to find the Harry yelling at a harmless owl.
"Taking you to see the family therapist tomorrow after work!! And would you shut up?" Uncle Vernon screamed as he slammed his door shut again. Harry was whimpering now. The owl, upset that he had been shrieked at, stuck out its leg impatiently so that Harry could read the letter. He cautiously reached toward the leg and untied the letter. The owl took flight before waiting for him to read as it had done the previous time. It was from Professor Umbridge.
Better watch what you're dreaming about Potter!
~Professor Umbridge
(Signed professor for a reason. Ha ha)
Harry felt as if a lead ball had just been dropped in the pit of his stomach. He fought back the urge to vomit again and tore up the letter. How did she know about my dream? And why did she sign under professor? He decided the first thing tomorrow morning, before cleaning up the sickness all over the floor, he would write to Ron and Hermione and tell them everything, even if his letter was intercepted. Then a new wave of terror consumed him. The family therapist, yet another muggle doctor. How could he explain to him his dream?
"Why does every summer go wrong?" he asked himself out loud. The summer of his first year, chaos was caused when he set a boa constrictor free and set it on Dudley. His second year summer was horrible when Dobby upset everyone by dumping pudding on Mrs. Mason's head. During his third year summer, Aunt Marge inflated like a big air balloon, fourth summer: he had that terrible dream of the Riddle house and in his last year's summer, dementors acted both him and Dudley and he was forced to attack them with a patronus, causing him to almost be expelled. Now this summer he was dealing with the loss of Sirius and now he had to go see a therapist. What else is new? Harry thought to himself before falling back asleep, dreading tomorrow night.