Disclaimer: Harry Potter and its characters are not mine, nor am I the writer of the novels.
THE BELGUM POTION
Chapter One: In the Dark
The pain in his scar was slowly dying down to a burning sensation. It had been so painful only a few moments ago… so painful it felt as if his head would split in half from the pain. But he was growing used to the agony it brought him, if it were possible. Ever since the return of Voldmort, it would steadily growing worse, without mercy.
But Harry didn't expect any mercy.
His pajamas stuck to his skin uncomfortably due to the sweat that covered him from head to toe. He wiped the cut's blood off his cheek, which was just a moment ago making its way to his neck.
Achingly, Harry stood up from his bed warily, clenching his fists as he did so. 'I knew it,' he thought to himself angrily. 'I knew I shouldn't have fallen asleep...' He looked to the clock by his bed. It was 2 A.M.... he had only received three hours of sleep.
It seemed to Harry that every time he would shut his eyes, he would be paying Voldemort a visit. So, his goal for the summer had been not to sleep at all, but he was finding it to be quite an impossible task. He managed to stay away for 4 whole days so far, but ended his streak after fainting on his bed three hours before. He cursed himself.
But this dream was better than all the others. In this dream... no one died. Sometimes 1, 2, or 5 people were murdered.
Harry held up his hand to the deep wound on his cheek.
But this… this experience was new to him... very different. This had never happened before. He stared at the blood on his hand with confusion. What had happened?
It seemed as if Voldemort had controlled his actions... as if, in that dream, they were one. One in the same. Harry was thousands of miles away from the Dark Lord, he was sure of it. But here, in very Privet Drive, Voldemort had controlled Harry's hand… and swiped his cheek own cheek…
This could not be good, thought Harry.
He wasn't dense–he knew that Voldemort figured out the connection they shared. Professor Lupin said that he might. Harry always had the ability to feel the Dark Lord's emotions, and could even pay him a visit when daydreaming or sleeping. Would Voldemort do the same thing now that he knew of the connection?
Now that the most feared wizard of all time knew of this bond they shared, the idea terrified Harry. Voldemort was, in fact, much, much more powerful than he was.
Harry paced around his room. What was this Order Malfoy spoke of? And who was this Mundungus Fletcher? The name seemed somewhat familiar. Harry thought hard... he also recalled something about a prophecy being said.
Harry looked to Hedwig. She was watching him intently beneath the bars of his cage. No, Harry thought to himself. Recalling Sirius' last letter, letters were out of the question:
Do not use owl post. Letters can be intercepted, it's too risky. Don't send any, or expect any.
If you must reach me, you know what to do.
Keep safe, stay where you are, and don't do anything stupid.
Harry moved to his bed and bent down, reaching under the floorboard for a small, square mirror.
It was the week that Harry returned to Privet Drive that he had received a package from his godfather, with a note saying:
I'm not cruel enough to leave you in the dark, even though a certain someone's mother wishes me to. This is our way of communication. Just look into it, and say my name. Our little secret.
Harry hated it. Despite what his godfather said about not leaving him in the dark, he was still kept out of all happenings in the wizarding world. Sirius told him that he was sworn by Dumbledore not to say a word on anything until they could talk in person. He couldn't even know where Sirius currently was. Harry tried not to be mad at the old Headmaster, knowing that he probably had his reasons... but still...
Didn't Harry deserve more than anyone to know about what was going on in the Wizarding World? Usually, the not-knowing nagged at him daily. Hadn't he been the one in the graveyard with him? Wasn't he the one who saw his rebirth? Harry shook his head. He didn't ever want to think about that night again... about Cedric.
Throwing his thoughts aside for the moment, he sat on his bed with the mirror, and said his godfather's name.
"Sirius Black."
For about a minute, nothing happened. He stared hard into the glass, seeing nothing but his own green eyes staring back.
"Harry?"
Harry smiled widely, forgetting his worries at the moment at the sight of his godfather. He had obviously been sleeping a moment before, which came to no surprise at all. His hair was sticking in all different kinds of directions.
"Hi, Sirius. Did I wake you?" Harry asked, feeling stupid after asking it.
"No... it's only three in the morning," he kidded. But his face was serious. "What's wrong? Are you okay, Harry?"
Harry nodded. "Yeah," he lied.
Sirius raised an eyebrow. "So you woke me up at three in the morning for nothing?" He shook his head. "I don't think so. You had another dream...."
It wasn't a question. Harry nodded his head slightly. "Yeah."
"Is that Harry?" he heard a voice say in the background.
"Yeah," Sirius said very seriously. "He had another dream, Remus."
There was a long pause.
Remus broke the silence. "Record what he says, Sirius... I'll alert Albus." Harry heard footsteps, followed by a door slam.Why was it so important, Harry wondered? What was going on that he didn't know about? He suddenly felt angry.
Sirius just looked at him, as if expecting Harry to start speaking. Harry found that he couldn't.
"What is going on, Sirius?" Harry asked. "What is it that I don't know about?"
Sirius rubbed his eyes. "We've already been through this, Harry..."
"I just don't understand. Why can't you just tell me? Do you know what it's like? Being left in the dark?"
Sirius' face grew sympathetic as he looked at his godson. Oh, how it pained him to see Harry this way.
"I'm sorry, Harry... Dumbledore–"
"Yeah, what about him?" He said heatedly, his emotions getting the better of him at the moment. He immediately regretted saying it.
"I'm... I'm sorry Sirius. It's just..."
Sirius nodded. "It's okay, Harry. I understand. I'm in the same situation you are, believe it or not. Now that Voldemort knows my animagus form, I'm useless to Dumbledore." There was a small silence. Harry was quite aware of his godfather's position in a mirror session before. "I promise you, Harry... I'm going to get you away from the Dursley's as soon as I can manage it. And I'll tell you everything I can tell you then."
Harry rolled his eyes mentally. Everything he can tell him? As in: I will only tell you what Dumbledore told me to tell you. He didn't say this aloud, however.
Being at the Dursley's had been a nightmare this year. He was always in a terrible state. His lack of sleep, constant burning of his scar and dreams of Voldemort took so much out of him, he could barely stand by the end of the day. Vernon, Petunia and Dudley hadn't been making it too easy on him, with the chores he had to do day in and day out. Plus, knowing Voldemort was reborn and not knowing what was going on in the wizarding world practically drove him nuts.
In fact, a couple of times he even thought seriously about running away and breaking into the Wizarding World, just to find out. Every time he got near the door, though, a note would always come through the mail slot:
Stay where you are.
Harry didn't recognize the handwriting, but he knew enough to turn around and go back inside each time.
"Well..." Harry took in a deep breath, and told Sirius everything that had happened in his dream, exactly how he had remembered it.
"...and Lucius Malfoy was there, too... along with Nott. They said that they caught a man... a Mundungus Fletcher of some kind of Order," he paused when he heard his godfather take in breath. "What's wrong? Do you know him?
Sirius nodded. "He was reported missing last night..." he whispered. "Our worst fears... poor Mundungus..." Sirius said to himself, muttering the words.
"What? What worst fears? Who is this guy?"
But Sirius would tell him nothing. Very frustrated, but willing to continue, he went on with the story. As he came to the part about the prophecy, Sirius's eyes grew wide.
Harry stopped. "Er–Sirius? Is something wrong?"
Sirius wouldn't speak right away. The look on his face made Harry feel even more frustrated. So much was going on that he didn't know about….
"Sirius, this is enough!" Harry said, his voice raising. "If you don't tell me what's going on, I'm going to have to–"
Harry gasped. Did he just hear a door open? He waited. A minute later, he heard a crack out in the hallway, just outside his door.
He looked back to Sirius, who had already left the mirror. He must have heard it, too, thought Harry. Panicking, he quickly threw the mirror under the loose floorboard, and put a hand on his wand, which stuck out loosely from his pajama pocket.
Opening the door widely, he saw nothing. 'Maybe I'm just being paranoid,' Harry thought. But a little nagging sensation told him that he wasn't just being paranoid... that someone was actually watching him. He knew it... he could feel it.
He raised his wand out in front of him, stepping out into the hallway. It didn't take him many steps to figure out who it was. Standing right on the stairway behind a wall was his cousin, Dudley.
Harry sighed, placing the wand back into his pocket. He feared it might have been… someone else.
"What are you doing up, Dudley?" He asked, annoyed. His cousin had just interrupted his visit with his godfather, leaving Harry in the worst of moods.
"I should ask you the same question," Dudley said, hiding the fear under his voice. His eyes kept slipping to the sight of Harry's wand.
"I-I'll tell mum... you were doing that... that stuff again. You were, weren't you? I heard you m-murmuring in there. You woke me up."
Harry rolled his eyes, but his cousin missed it due to the heavy darkness. "Yes, that's what I was doing," he chuckled. "Such a clever boy, Duddy-kins," Harry said the words Petunia said to him the day before in a squeaky high-pitched voice.
Dudley's pig-fists clenched. "Don't do it," said Dudley angrily, keeping a tap on his emotions. "Don't start with me. I'll yell... I swear I will!"
Harry knew that his cousin would, and didn't feel like having a purple Vernon in his face, screaming at him. Instead of going on with annoying his cousin, he turned around and made his way back to his room. "You're sixteen, and you still cry to mummy," he said under his breath. He closed the door behind him.
For a moment, he just stood there, thinking, as he heard Dudley's footsteps descend down the stairs, probably on the hunt for food. He knew Sirius would be waiting for him to contact him again, but for some reason, he didn't want to. He did, in fact, tell him mostly everything that happened, didn't he?
Harry shook his head. Of course he didn't.... He didn't tell him the part about Voldemort addressing him, or the fact that Voldemort controlled his emotions. But, for some reason, he didn't want to tell his godfather.
If he wasn't going to tell him anything, well, then Harry wouldn't return the favor.
What good would come of it anyway? Sirius would look at Harry with shock, write something down on a piece of parchment (to later tell Dumbledore, no doubt), and look at him with sympathy. Harry couldn't stand not being told what was going on. He was the one finding this out for them, he was the one Voldemort was after... he deserved to know! He had every right to know.
Harry grabbed his Potions text book, and sat down at his desk, beginning to read. He had read the whole book, along with all his other thick books, at least twice. It was his way to escape sleep, and to escape thoughts about… last year…
The last thing Harry ever wanted to do was dream... ever again. He knew it was impossible to escape sleep... it was just something you needed. Harry yawned. He never slept, hardly ate, and the dreams of Voldemort took so much out of him, he began feeling sick daily. Sick, weak, and sleepy. He was in a right state, and he didn't know how much more of this he could take.
But he had to be strong. Much, much more was awaiting him in the future... things he couldn't even begin to dream of.
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Preview of Chapter Two: The Belgum Potion"This is the reason why I have assembled you three," Dumbledore said, looking deeply troubled. "Harry is in mortal danger... danger than he could never dream of, especially now that he has realized their connection. He is much too young to deal with the wrath of Voldemort. We must get him stronger and continue his education at Hogwarts. He will need protection."
"W-wait a second!" Snape jumped up from his chair, suddenly seeing where this was going, as only Snape could. "Did you say... protection?"
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "I did not stutter, Severus."
"You can't mean–"
"I do."
"Bodyguards?"
"Correct."