Harry Potter and the Green Flame Torch
Chapter 2: Of Dreams and Mysteries and all Things Between
Harry Potter practically floated down the steps the next morning. He was like a ghost. He was pale, as sitting in his dark room all day didn't give him a chance to tan. His eyes were listless. Dark bags hung under them. He didn't sleep. His Aunt and Uncle knew that, they didn't care. They tried not to look at the boy. Maybe if they ignored him he would go away.
Harry sat down at the dining room table and began to eat the meager bowl of cereal his Aunt had left for him. He didn't speak, he had nothing to say. Both sides liked it that way. He didn't mention Dumbledore's impending arrival, he wanted to see their faces. A loud booming sound from overhead signified Dudley's awakening. He made his way downstairs and sat across from him, looking pointedly at the table the whole time.
The thought briefly passed Harry's mind that Dudley feared him, that he could do something with that. He didn't ponder it to long, he had no interest scaring muggles.
Harry hated that place, vehemently. He hated the flowery drapes, the bright colors of the tablecloth and living room. He hated the rooms filled with stuff that belonged to his cousin. He hated the cupboard under the stairs. Most of all he hated those damn pictures.
Above the fireplace there sat a cornucopia of pictures. Of Dudley, of Harry's aunt and uncle of the three of them of a family. They should have been of him. They should have been of him and his parents, of him with his mom and dad. But they were stolen from him. Harry was left alone. Dudley got his parents, and all the things of the world, Harry got nothing. Dudley didn't deserve anything. He didn't deserve parents that loved him, however misguided and blind that love was. Harry did. But he couldn't have them. He hated those pictures.
Harry finished his breakfast and retreated to his room. He took out his potions essay and wrote. He didn't put much effort in. he didn't care to. Snape could yell all he wanted to. Harry would drop the class. He heard a scream from downstairs. Must be noon already.
"BOY!" He heard his uncle yell. "GET DOWN HERE NOW!"
Harry complied. Not out of fear of his uncle. He just did. Harry saw Dumbledore sitting in the living room. If Harry had cared in the slightest he may have laughed at the Sureallness of it all. He didn't.
"Harry, are you ready?" Dumbledore asked him. He was dressed as a muggle. He looked quite normal, dressed in a plain shirt and pants. Harry nodded dumbly. Dumbledore looked concerned but didn't say anything.
They left and got into an orange car parked outside the house. They got in and drove a short distance to a small house. Dumbledore led the way inside. It smelled faintly of bread baking and was full of dust. It was furnished sparingly, with all of it being old but well maintained. Harry sat down at the kitchen table. Dumbledore sat across from him.
"Tea, Harry?" He offered. Harry shook his head. Dumbledore nodded and flicked his wrist, and a teapot and cup appeared on the table in front of him. He poured himself a cup silently, never taking his gaze off Harry. Harry returned it, steadfast. Dumbledore sipped it and set it back down. "Too hot."
Harry didn't reply. He didn't have anything to say to this man, he told himself. At the same time he wanted to let it all rush out of him, all the grief and anguish. He wanted to break down in tears.
Dumbledore saw the drama play out in Harry's eyes. He had seen it a thousand times before. Never really to this intensity, but he knew what was happening. He said nothing. Not yet, it wasn't time. Harry had to make the decision himself. Dumbledore could not push the issue. That only drove them away.
"Why did you bring me here Professor?" Harry asked quietly after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence. Dumbledore looked at him through his wire- rimmed glasses. Not like a headmaster, Harry didn't need that now. He looked at him as a grandfather would look at his grandson. Harry returned his stare, somewhat awkwardly.
"I simply wanted to make sure you were doing well." Dumbledore replied simply. Harry's head dropped. He knew it, and he didn't want to talk about it.
"I'm fine." He mumbled into his chest. Dumbledore sighed slightly. He sipped at his tea and watched Harry a few moment's longer.
"We both know that's not the case Harry." He said softly. Harry looked up at him. His face was emotionless, but his eyes were wrought with strife and fear. "But that is your right to keep your feelings to yourself. So we will talk about something different. Have you had any odd dreams lately?" He asked, not giving Harry a chance to but in. Harry nodded silently.
"I had one, just last night. It was...." He trailed off. "Weird." He finished with a vocal shrug, not able to find a better word. Dumbledore sipped at his tea again, and motioned for Harry to elaborate. "It was like this big desert. And off in the distance was this green....thing. I couldn't make it out. It looked like fire. I walked towards it. But I couldn't get any closer. I went over a hill and came on a tree." Harry seemed distant now. His voice was far off, almost like he was in a trance. "And there was a noose there. I looked at it."
"Did you put it on?" Dumbledore asked gravely. He seemed startled now. His calm demeanor had vanished. He was alarmed. Harry could tell, even in his catatonic type state.
"No." He said. "The man told me not to. He was an odd man. He had one eye. And two birds. He seemed to know me." Harry said quietly. Now that he thought about it, the entire situation confused him. He looked up at Dumbledore and saw that he was alarmed, and now even angry. "I'm s-sorry." Harry sputtered afraid he had angered the man. "I did-didn't know..." He started before Dumbledore interrupted him.
"It's not you my boy. You have nothing to be sorry for. I just didn't think he'd interfere this way. Directly..." He trailed off. He looked into his tea and sipped at it again. After a few minutes of silence he looked back to Harry. He saw the drama still playing out. He couldn't read it. He had to press again. "Anything else you want to tell me Harry?" He asked quietly.
Harry looked down. He wanted to tell him. But he couldn't. He knew he wouldn't understand. This was HIS battle. It was not Dumbledore's or Lupins. It was his. He shook his head. Dumbledore's face and demeanor didn't change. But he was disappointed.
'Come on Harry, you can shake this.' He thought to himself. He stood, and Harry followed him. They left and drove home, silently. When Dumbledore pulled up to #4, he turned back to Harry and spoke.
"Stay strong Harry. Soon it will get better. And if you see this man again, wake up." He stressed the last two words strongly. "Write me immediately. That man is dangerous. Not really to you, but he is very dangerous. I can't tell you more now. I'm sorry for that. I have another "appointment" to keep." He said. Harry left the car and went back inside. Back to his solitude. Back to his hell. Dumbledore pulled out of the drive and commenced to the airport....
Chapter 2: Of Dreams and Mysteries and all Things Between
Harry Potter practically floated down the steps the next morning. He was like a ghost. He was pale, as sitting in his dark room all day didn't give him a chance to tan. His eyes were listless. Dark bags hung under them. He didn't sleep. His Aunt and Uncle knew that, they didn't care. They tried not to look at the boy. Maybe if they ignored him he would go away.
Harry sat down at the dining room table and began to eat the meager bowl of cereal his Aunt had left for him. He didn't speak, he had nothing to say. Both sides liked it that way. He didn't mention Dumbledore's impending arrival, he wanted to see their faces. A loud booming sound from overhead signified Dudley's awakening. He made his way downstairs and sat across from him, looking pointedly at the table the whole time.
The thought briefly passed Harry's mind that Dudley feared him, that he could do something with that. He didn't ponder it to long, he had no interest scaring muggles.
Harry hated that place, vehemently. He hated the flowery drapes, the bright colors of the tablecloth and living room. He hated the rooms filled with stuff that belonged to his cousin. He hated the cupboard under the stairs. Most of all he hated those damn pictures.
Above the fireplace there sat a cornucopia of pictures. Of Dudley, of Harry's aunt and uncle of the three of them of a family. They should have been of him. They should have been of him and his parents, of him with his mom and dad. But they were stolen from him. Harry was left alone. Dudley got his parents, and all the things of the world, Harry got nothing. Dudley didn't deserve anything. He didn't deserve parents that loved him, however misguided and blind that love was. Harry did. But he couldn't have them. He hated those pictures.
Harry finished his breakfast and retreated to his room. He took out his potions essay and wrote. He didn't put much effort in. he didn't care to. Snape could yell all he wanted to. Harry would drop the class. He heard a scream from downstairs. Must be noon already.
"BOY!" He heard his uncle yell. "GET DOWN HERE NOW!"
Harry complied. Not out of fear of his uncle. He just did. Harry saw Dumbledore sitting in the living room. If Harry had cared in the slightest he may have laughed at the Sureallness of it all. He didn't.
"Harry, are you ready?" Dumbledore asked him. He was dressed as a muggle. He looked quite normal, dressed in a plain shirt and pants. Harry nodded dumbly. Dumbledore looked concerned but didn't say anything.
They left and got into an orange car parked outside the house. They got in and drove a short distance to a small house. Dumbledore led the way inside. It smelled faintly of bread baking and was full of dust. It was furnished sparingly, with all of it being old but well maintained. Harry sat down at the kitchen table. Dumbledore sat across from him.
"Tea, Harry?" He offered. Harry shook his head. Dumbledore nodded and flicked his wrist, and a teapot and cup appeared on the table in front of him. He poured himself a cup silently, never taking his gaze off Harry. Harry returned it, steadfast. Dumbledore sipped it and set it back down. "Too hot."
Harry didn't reply. He didn't have anything to say to this man, he told himself. At the same time he wanted to let it all rush out of him, all the grief and anguish. He wanted to break down in tears.
Dumbledore saw the drama play out in Harry's eyes. He had seen it a thousand times before. Never really to this intensity, but he knew what was happening. He said nothing. Not yet, it wasn't time. Harry had to make the decision himself. Dumbledore could not push the issue. That only drove them away.
"Why did you bring me here Professor?" Harry asked quietly after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence. Dumbledore looked at him through his wire- rimmed glasses. Not like a headmaster, Harry didn't need that now. He looked at him as a grandfather would look at his grandson. Harry returned his stare, somewhat awkwardly.
"I simply wanted to make sure you were doing well." Dumbledore replied simply. Harry's head dropped. He knew it, and he didn't want to talk about it.
"I'm fine." He mumbled into his chest. Dumbledore sighed slightly. He sipped at his tea and watched Harry a few moment's longer.
"We both know that's not the case Harry." He said softly. Harry looked up at him. His face was emotionless, but his eyes were wrought with strife and fear. "But that is your right to keep your feelings to yourself. So we will talk about something different. Have you had any odd dreams lately?" He asked, not giving Harry a chance to but in. Harry nodded silently.
"I had one, just last night. It was...." He trailed off. "Weird." He finished with a vocal shrug, not able to find a better word. Dumbledore sipped at his tea again, and motioned for Harry to elaborate. "It was like this big desert. And off in the distance was this green....thing. I couldn't make it out. It looked like fire. I walked towards it. But I couldn't get any closer. I went over a hill and came on a tree." Harry seemed distant now. His voice was far off, almost like he was in a trance. "And there was a noose there. I looked at it."
"Did you put it on?" Dumbledore asked gravely. He seemed startled now. His calm demeanor had vanished. He was alarmed. Harry could tell, even in his catatonic type state.
"No." He said. "The man told me not to. He was an odd man. He had one eye. And two birds. He seemed to know me." Harry said quietly. Now that he thought about it, the entire situation confused him. He looked up at Dumbledore and saw that he was alarmed, and now even angry. "I'm s-sorry." Harry sputtered afraid he had angered the man. "I did-didn't know..." He started before Dumbledore interrupted him.
"It's not you my boy. You have nothing to be sorry for. I just didn't think he'd interfere this way. Directly..." He trailed off. He looked into his tea and sipped at it again. After a few minutes of silence he looked back to Harry. He saw the drama still playing out. He couldn't read it. He had to press again. "Anything else you want to tell me Harry?" He asked quietly.
Harry looked down. He wanted to tell him. But he couldn't. He knew he wouldn't understand. This was HIS battle. It was not Dumbledore's or Lupins. It was his. He shook his head. Dumbledore's face and demeanor didn't change. But he was disappointed.
'Come on Harry, you can shake this.' He thought to himself. He stood, and Harry followed him. They left and drove home, silently. When Dumbledore pulled up to #4, he turned back to Harry and spoke.
"Stay strong Harry. Soon it will get better. And if you see this man again, wake up." He stressed the last two words strongly. "Write me immediately. That man is dangerous. Not really to you, but he is very dangerous. I can't tell you more now. I'm sorry for that. I have another "appointment" to keep." He said. Harry left the car and went back inside. Back to his solitude. Back to his hell. Dumbledore pulled out of the drive and commenced to the airport....