Books » Harry Potter » Malfunction text size: () : (-)
Author: Noclaf
2. Dead Things
R - English - Angst/Drama - Published: 05-28-04 - id:1882466
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When Harry awoke in the infirmary, he couldn't help but roll his eyes at the predictability of it all. Just like always, seconds after he opened his eyes he was confronted by the bustling form of Madam Pomfrey. He half listened in sleepy content, has she muttered vague threats, and griped about the general condition of her patient.
"Well." she huffed, "Your certainly in good enough shape to see the head master." she told him in her disapproving voice as if patients should never have to talk to the headmaster, or any one else for that matter. She scuttled over to the fire place in her office. Harry personally agreed with her as he settled back into the pillows, he was in no mood to deal with the moaning reprimands of Headmaster Flitwick, and his wheezing lecture of moral, as well as his analytical analysis of what there was to live for. Harry always felt MORE like killing himself if only to make the little geezer shut up.
Causally Harry began to explore the amount of damage. No bones broken, good, he moved the blankets aside to check his stomach- no bruises, so there was no internal injuries. He brought his hand to his forehead, tracing his scar and then scrubbed his military hair cut, enjoying the fuzzy feeling. He ran a hand down his face feeling the deep scar on his cheek, and the almost invisible scars around his eyes. Thanks to them he no longer had glasses. For a while he hadn't even had sight.
The tell tail click of boots echoed up the corridor in a stedy pace; however the long strides were definenty not Flitwicks.
Harry heaved himself in to a seated position, and reached for his wand. Except it wasn't there. Harry opened the draw on his dresser in a panic, and painfully twisted his arm to check under his pillow. No wand.
"Looking for something?" a cheery voice interrupted.
Harry froze. He knew that voice. That voice was dead. That voice had no reason- no RIGHT to there. He turned slowly and saw what he had been dreading. Two eyes studied him coldly- no more like curiously, with a bit of caution. Like the first time Ron had seen a niffler. The face was old but not so old as he remembered. There went as many lines.
"Lemon drop?" Harry wisped, the world rested on that question, the a answer.
"Oh! Would you like one?" the dead voice asked. Harry's face twitched, anger began to flow through him- how DARE they! How DARE they raise his hopes with this THING- this DUPLICITY! It was the security check Hermione had devised long ago, a verbal check for when they were unsure of some one. "Lemon drop" they would ask each other. "Sugar is strength." the other would answer, and then of course in Dumbledore's case, the obligatory sweet was presented. This thing, this foul hoax, this was not Dumbledore and even as the withered old hand stretched out its offering Harry threw him self out of the bed.
"Who the hell are you!" Harry snarled as he rolled out of bed his hand coming out face up as if to stop the fake thing like a muggle policeman. The thing stopped in surprise- at having it's cover blown so soon Harry surmised. "I'm Albus Dumbledore." the thing said. A pulse of light shot from Harry's hand knocking It to the floor.
"Dumbledore is dead" Harry said hoarsely "now I will ask you again- Who. Are. You."
"STUPEFY!"
Harry arched backward as the minor spell dug in to his back, searching for his pressure points and squeezing them to knock him unconscious. Desperately Harry searched for the spell, trying to halt it, to slow it down, to reflect it, ANYTHING! Another stunner slapped into his chest, and a third into his head a second later. Harry fell in to the darkness where his angry past rose up and began it's nightly feast.
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When Harry awoke it was still bright. He had barley begun to get his bearings when he was assaulted by Madam Pomfrey's voice. "He's awake!" she trilled.
"What is your name?" came Dumbledore's voice.
"Harry James Potter"
"How old are you Harry" came the same calm voice
"Seventeen "
"Where do you live?"
"Headquarters"
" The head quarters of what"
"The Order"
"Which one?"
"……"
"Harry. Which order?"
"……"
"It's a Fidelius charm Albus. Better move on before his mind breaks." came a new voice. Another dead voice. This one was cold and warm. Empty, and yet so full time. It was an alarm. Slowly Harry began to pull him self out of the empty place he was in, going to the voice, the one that mattered.
"Where did you live before that Harry?" NO! they wanted to know about The Place and Them. Or worse Home, and its secrets, or maybe even the stupid pigs, maybe they wanted to torture him with his failure. Make him talk about all the things he had-
"Harry?"
"NO!" there was pain now and burning.
"Albus?" the voice again
"Do it!" something down his throat, cool and soothing, a vice lifted from his head, he relaxed- too much there was now an unconformable wetness and stench between his legs. Harry breathed in great gasps first quickly and then more slowly, until he was almost asleep. In the background there was the mummer of voices. Angry ones? It didn't matter because through it all there was the one voice that did matter. Harry wisped the name and then slipped again in to the darkness. This time there were no angry ghosts.
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So wow another chapter! never thought it would happen- let alone just 6 hours later. I knew there was a reason to drink coffee.....I cant believe that I knocked him out three times already! Oh well. Don't worry it wont happen too often, I'll stop I swear! But there's at least one more hospital seen so expect a few more black outs and if were lucky Flashbacks! So any more? yes?no?over your dead body? Use the purple button thingy. I have no idea where the lemon drop thing came from….I need sugar, maybe some caffeine. See ya all later. Noclaf