Harry slept only a few hours that time. Mrs. Weasley brought him broth for dinner, but he only stirred from bed to go to the loo. That was a long trip, with Ron accompanying him as he had at the Dursleys, obviously ready to scoop him up at a moment's notice. Harry edged away, choosing to lean a hand on the wall for support. When he returned to the bed, he was winded and ready to rest again.
"You all right, mate?" Ron looked pale and uncomfortable himself. "Need some water?"
Harry nodded and lay back down. Ron rattled on about Quidditch, getting him several glasses of water in the meantime, but the silence soon felt oppressive and Ron left with a mumbled excuse.
Harry was annoyed at the desertion, but knew his continued silence unnerved Ron. Before he left, Ron made sure to mention several times that Hermione was set to come on the following night. Harry dreaded it. He wanted to see her, really, but that uncomfortable ache and pressure inside just seemed to intensify when Ron talked about her.
Ginny and the twins came in before bed to play Exploding Snap, but Harry wasn't up to it yet, so they gave him a few laughs by playing "Randy Candy Roulette" instead, a new Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes party game. They put nine Wheezes into an old hat of Percy's. They didn't make Harry play, but Ginny and the twins each had to reach in, draw one piece and eat every bit of it.
Since there were three rounds, each of the Weasleys ended up eating a cream and poofing into canaries, though only Ginny felt comfortable enough to chirp out a tune and fly around as though it was her Animagus form. The twins drew Pufferbelly Peppermints which made them swell until buttons popped off their shirts. Harry was grateful-in a laughing, rolling kind of way-that Ginny kept her shirt intact and only faded to pale when she ate her next candy, a Ghostly Graying Gelly, which left her hair flaming red while her eyes and skin lost every bit of color.
George got a Puckerpuss Pastiche, which kept his mouth locked in a pucker for half an hour. Fred made fun of him until he pulled out a Habanero Hellraiser, which made his nose and eyes run for even longer.
Unfortunately, Ginny's last candy was a Stiffer Salon Sucker, which made her hair stand straight up. With the cut of her hair, the shape of it was like a teardrop.
The twins roared with laughter.
"It's the Little Match Girl," George said through his pursed lips.
"And she's been struck!" Fred finished, wiping his streaming eyes.
Harry couldn't stop himself from joining in. Since her face and arms were still so pale, her shirt white, and her hair standing up and still so very red, she did look like a flaming matchstick. Ginny herself was giggling self-consciously, and Harry thought she was probably blushing because her cheeks had turned a darker, stormy gray.
He was weak from laughter by the time they left, and gratefully smiled them a good night. Lying back on the bed, he suddenly realized how much water he'd drunk. With a weary sigh, he pulled himself up and forced himself to walk down the hall, solo this time. Passing the twins' room, he stopped when he heard a choking, teary sort of sound. Who was in there? He stayed silent, feeling a pull to move onward and give whoever it was privacy, but needing to stay and make sure everything was alright.
"'S alright, Gin," he heard one of the twins murmur. "He'll be fine."
"Would you stop saying that? He's notfine! He's hardly ever been fine and now he's worse!" Her sharp voice was laden with throaty grief. "Why can't they just leave him alone?"
"I don't know, Gin."
"Probably because he's just been in the way too many times," George said soberly, or at least it sounded like something he would say.
"But it's not going to happen again." That was definitely Fred.
"We won't let it," George ended staunchly.
Harry heard Ginny sniffing and imagined her watery smile. "But why isn't he talking?" The twins didn't answer. "You saw him-he isn't even laughing out loud," Ginny hissed. "What's wrong with-"
"Shhhhh!" said both of the twins, startling Harry so much that he jerked forward several steps before stopping again. They couldn't have heard him, and he wanted to hear what they said.
"You're being silly, Gin, he's always laughed like that," said one of them.
"No, he hasn't," she insisted. "He only does that when he's in the room with someone he doesn't know very well. Not all the time. And now he's completely silent! It's just-it's just-something's wrong!"
"You're worrying too much. Pomfrey said he was fine, and she ought to know."
"Maybe she's not telling us everything she knows," Ginny said sharply.
There was a pause. "Look, Hermione will be here tomorrow night and then he'll be right as rain. She'll know exactly how to handle him. Now. No more worrying or we'll know Percy was your favorite brother. Let's go downstairs," Fred ordered.
Harry moved on down the hallway quickly until he was out of sight, hearing George address Ginny as they headed for the stairs
"Good thing that Rainblow Reverser worked on you. D'you think we could ever get Harry to try one of the Stiffer Salon Suckers? With that hair, he'd fair look like a hedgehog!"
"Don't you dare." It sounded like Ginny slapped George's arm, but she was laughing. They thudded down the stairs. "And I like his hair."
"Big surprise, that," George mumbled.
"He looks so . . . windblown-" Ginny continued until Fred interrupted her in a rapturous voice.
"And handsome-"
"And so heroic," George added.
"Shut it!"
"That I just want to take him in my arms and-"
"I said shut it!" It sounded like there was a slight scuffle, and then one of the twins burst out while they were running, "All right! All right, just put the wand away, Ginevra. Wouldn't want to do something by accident, right?" And then as they pounded downstairs, the voices went too far away to follow.
When Harry made it back to the room, he was feeling an uncomfortable mix of emotions. It surprised him that Ginny's off-hand comment about his hair made him feel so . . . well, pleased with himself and kind of hot all over. But then, he thought of her crying over him and the good feelings left so quickly that it felt as if someone had dumped cold water over him. He hated worrying everyone.
And then her comment about Pomfrey not telling everything she knew . . .
Harry wondered how likely that was to be true. What could Pomfrey be keeping back?
Of course it came to him immediately, and he saw that he'd really been holding the thought back the whole time. It was the Cruciatus. An extended Cruciatus has many side effects, as the Procclumency book had pointed out. His not speaking could be a simple matter of the connecting pathways in his brain being burnt out. Brain damage.
Ah. As his stomach clenched uncomfortably, he realized why he was refusing to think about that-the only way to disprove it would be to speak. A few more disconcerting thoughts flickered through his mind, images of himself mute and helpless for life, before he cut them off again.
He shuddered once before climbing into bed. He put his glasses on the table beside him, wondering vaguely why they had taken Snape's Occulis charm off of him. It had been nice to see well for a few hours.
Harry fell asleep in a melancholy mood that translated into watery, half-frightening dreams. He woke with a start to hear rain beating down on the roof. Ron was now laying on a long pallet beside his, snoring loudly. The sound was jarring, and yet comfortably familiar. He thought of Ginny's words earlier and remembered his reaction to them. It was a while before he could get back to sleep.
The next day started off much better. The Blood Replenishing Potion was doing its work and he felt like walking around a bit. The trip with Ron downstairs, however, was long enough to exhaust him. It was humiliating.
Harry sat down on the couch and tried to smile at his friend, who was extremely skittish, ready to jump and help at a moment's notice. Words came to mind but Harry couldn't utter them. Ron sat at the window seat with a loud thunk and waved off the unspoken thanks. "No problem, mate. So, what do you feel like doing today?"
Harry, of course, shrugged.
"You ought to eat something first, maybe you'll feel better then. D'you think you could fly if we got a broom up under you?" Ron looked so hopeful that Harry had to nod. After all, he'd flown for hours while injured and close to unconsciousness, why couldn't he fly while recovering? Then he remembered something. He made a motion to Ron.
"What is it? You want to write something down? You got more schoolwork?" Harry gestured vigorously at him. "What? You want me to do schoolwork?" Harry sighed loudly. Ron wasn't even close.
"Come on, Ron, you thick-headed git," Ginny huffed, who had apparently been watching from the doorway. "Harry wants to write something down for you to read." She walked with exasperation over to the untidy roll-top desk and grabbed the necessary writing implements. "He doesn't want to play twenty questions just to make you understand what he wants to do."
Harry took the paper and quill gratefully from Ginny.
"Good morning, Harry. How are you feeling?"
He nodded and dipped the quill into the inkwell she had set down on the table beside him. He scratched out the following words:
I need to eat and then shower before trying to fly, you blooming twit! (that's for Ron) I'm feeling fine, Ginny.
Ginny stifled a giggle as he handed the paper to Ron, who read it and turned pink.
"All right, mate. Take it easy. We'll get you set up. MUM!" Ron roared as he set off for the kitchen.
A more spontaneous smile came to rest on Harry's lips. The Weasleys were all so loud, except for Percy, who was too self-conscious, and Ginny, who was too small to be as clunky as her brothers. Being around the whole family was like being in the middle of a crowd at a Quidditch match-loud, exciting and unpredictable.
Well, except today. Today, the Burrow was a bit more like a hospital wing; uncomfortably quiet and all his fault, of course. The other brothers must have been sent outside, or possibly back to work.
Ginny had already moved away to straighten up the desk. Harry watched her silently, noting her small, neat movements and how tiny her hands were. He felt completely disconcerted by the small flush he felt rising on his cheeks and stared down at the parchment she'd gotten him. Focusing his mind with a wrench, he scratched out the first sentence and wrote another one:
Ever heard of Procclumency, Gin?
As soon as he stopped scratching, Ginny walked over with a questioning look.
"Is that for me?"
Harry nodded, slanting the parchment so she could read it. She looked at the question with a flush of embarrassment and pulled away slightly.
"I hadn't heard of it until Professor Lupin brought your book, I mean, the one he sent you to study, when he brought all of your things. I've actually flipped through it a few times and it sounds amazing. Why?"
Harry started scratching again.
I used it against Tom and it worked. He screamed bloody murder. That's how I got away.
Ginny read over his shoulder again and grew pale. She moved back a little and stared at Harry, open-mouthed. Then she smiled. "It worked?"
Harry nodded.
"Did you project a memory?"
Harry nodded again.
"That's fantastic! Write it all down-everything! I know Professor Lupin and Dumbledore and everyone will want to know, too!" She ran to get a fresh sheet of paper and Harry smiled at her excitement. He got right to work writing it all down. Ginny sat for a while, watching him, then got up and ran into the kitchen. Harry heard her excitedly telling Ron and her Mum. Ron obviously didn't understand what she was talking about, because he asked a lot of questions.
At some point, Ginny returned and sat back down. In the thick of writing, Harry forgot about her until she suddenly sighed, "That's it, then."
Harry started and looked up at her, his concentration broken. Ginny was looking off into space, as if seeing another world.
"Now I know you'll beat him," she whispered and then glanced at him for a moment. After a small smile, she lay back in the chair and looked off again, waiting for him to finish.
Harry got back to work, wishing he could ask her what in the world she meant by that, wondering how she could have such faith in him after the debacle at the Ministry, and how in the world she had come to the conclusion (rightly and without knowing the Prophecy) that he would be the one to beat Tom, if anyone did.
He scratched out the last few words and handed the parchment to Ginny, who took it breathlessly and with a big grin just as Ron entered.
"Your breakfast is ready, Harry. Mum fixed your favorites." Harry got up, glad to find his legs steadier now, and followed Ron into the kitchen, leaving Ginny pouring over his words.
"Good morning, Harry," Mrs. Weasley beamed at him as he came in. "I'm so glad to see you up and around this morning. Did you sleep well?"
Harry shrugged and sat down, uncomfortably conscious of the fact that he couldn't really answer her.
"Well, there's probably nothing wrong with you that a half-dozen rashers of bacon and a dozen eggs won't cure! You go ahead and start, dear, we've already had ours."
"Speak for yourself, Mum," Ron said, grabbing a plate out of the cupboard and plopping down across from Harry. "Are you going to eat all those eggs, mate?"
Harry shook his head and looked up at Ron's mum, half-expecting her to reprimand Ron. She was eyeing at Harry critically. "Now, Harry, I know I'm not your mum, but you really should consider getting your hair cut, now that you're not stuck in that house-"
"MUM! He's just almost been killed!" Ron protested loudly, splattering eggs from his mouth on the last word. He swallowed quickly. "Who cares what his hair looks like!"
"Well, it's just that Hermione is coming tonight, and he should want to look presentable for her. And that long hair is just so-"
"Here!" Ron blasted out. "Why would Harry need to look presentable for Hermione? She doesn't care how he looks and anyway-"
"Harry! This is fantastic!" Ginny interrupted, rushing through the doorway, thrusting the parchment at Ron. "Ron, you have got to read this! Oh, Harry!" She twirled around once in what appeared to be pure joy and grabbed her Mum in a hug. "He beat Tom! He beat Voldemort! Harry did it!"
Harry dropped his fork and started motioning for her to stop. He'd done no such thing. All he'd done is give Tom a few seconds' pain, not do away with him. Hadn't he written it correctly? Ginny noticed him gesturing and frowned at him.
"Yes, I know! I know! You didn't actually kill him or anything. But Harry-you escaped because you did Procclumency and it worked. It really worked!"
Ron was reading now, a frown on his face. Harry hadn't written anything about the torture with Malfoy, just about Disillusioning himself and heading for the rafters, then projecting his memory into Tom's mind.
Mrs. Weasley broke into his thoughts. "So that's what you were chattering on about in here with Ron, Procclumency?"
"Yes, Mum. Harry used his connection to Voldemort to project a memory to him, one that had love in it and good, happy things and it brought Tom to his knees! That's what we needed, just some sort of a chance." She suddenly froze. "What if-what if we all could do it? What if we . . . all learned Procclumency and fought Tom that way?" She walked forward, almost as if in a trance, as if her mind was feeling its way through the thoughts. "What if we were like-like opposite Dementors, like anti-Dementors. Wouldn't that-wouldn't that hurt him? It would- I know it would," she said instantly, answering her own question. "I should know."
Ron had stopped reading. Mrs. Weasley looked startled. Harry felt his mind opening somehow, as if new thoughts were taking form there.
Ginny went on. "Tom wouldn't be able to stand it. He'd run away. He can't stand love."
Silence reigned in the little kitchen. Harry sat, his eggs forgotten, his mind racing. If others could learn Procclumency, then yes, it would help defeat Tom. But then, what about the Prophecy? It had to be Harry who killed him. Maybe, he reasoned out, the Procclumency from everyone would distract Tom, weaken him, and I could kill him somehow. Yes, maybe so.
"It just might work, Gin," Ron said hoarsely. He put the parchment down. "You could still use help Harry, no matter what that thing said."
Harry leveled a venomous gaze in Ron's direction, willing him to be quiet about the Prophecy. Ron flushed. Ginny stared between them curiously.
"We must tell Dumbledore about this," Mrs. Weasley interjected. "Ron, hand it here." She headed for the fireplace with Harry's written pages, a determined look on her face. "Anything that gives us an edge." Then she turned back. "But not a word to anyone else, you three. Except Hermione. Then no one else."
They all nodded, seriously. She turned back to the fireplace and took a pinch of Floo powder. Tossing it in caused the golden flames to darken to green. "Albus Dumbledore's office!" Then she stepped inside it and was gone.
Ron stared at Harry, a big grin taking over his face. "I can't believe you actually did this, the Procclumency thing! It's like the Patronus all over again! And it really made him scream?"
Harry nodded with a smile, Ron's joy starting to bleed into him.
"Good! Bloody bastard! I wish you could've done the same thing to Lucius Bloody Malfoy!" Ron's expression quickly turned grim and Harry swallowed against the sudden tension in his throat. When was he going to hear the name Lucius Malfoy and not immediately break out in a cold sweat?
"Oh, shut it, Ron! You're ruining everything! We have a chance to beat Voldemort now! This is fantastic! I feel like flying! Don't you, Harry?" Ginny twirled again and leaned down to hug Ron spontaneously.
"Yeah, well, I always feel like flying," Ron said easily. "And eating. Harry, you gonna' eat that bacon right there?" He punched it with his fork and Harry shook his head, settling for the one beside it.
They finished breakfast just as Mrs. Weasley returned, beaming.
"Harry, I haven't seen Dumbledore that excited in a long time. He says he'll be along soon to talk it over with you, but first he wanted to consult his counselors. Now, scurry on up and get clean. I've washed your clothes and left them in Ron's third drawer, along with a few new pair of socks. Yours were getting awfully gray and dingy, you know." She busily cleaned up the table and Harry had to touch her arm to get her to stop.
She paused and looked at him expectantly. He wanted to say thanks, but of course, he couldn't. Instead, he awkwardly put his arms around her. After a small intake of breath, she hugged him back. He squeezed her gently, and it wasn't bad. It was actually rather nice, but he pulled away quickly, feeling even more awkward when he saw the tears in her eyes.
She shooed him away, saying, "Oh, go on with you, you charmer! What am I going to do with you?"
Harry practically ran up the stairs, feeling nervous energy instead of the weak exhaustion he'd gotten accustomed to.
"Come outside when you get done," Ron yelled up after him.
Harry smiled. He definitely intended to.