What a Strange and Mysterious Thing It Is Chapter 4: Sharing Hopes and Dreams, a harry potter fanfic

What a Strange and Mysterious Thing It Is

Disclaimer All characters and references to Harry Potter mythology are the sole property of the amazing J.K. Rowling. I write for fun only, besides lawyers make me nervous.

Summary: Following the death of Sirius, truths emerge from everywhere. Harry must learn to cope with them and perhaps find what he has been seeking. This story, in keeping with the style of Ms. Rowling, is in Harry's point of view. It is mostly about Harry and Professor McGonagall, but there is a lot of AD/MM as well. It is rated PG-13 for some violence in later chapters. Please read and review! Enjoy!

A/N: Thank you so much to my reviewers: Quill of Minerva, Lady Urquentha, mugglemin, and Lou. McGonagall! For those of you who are anxiously awaiting the ADMM goodness, it is coming up next chapter! Thanks for being so patient. As always, thank you so much!

Chapter Four: Sharing Hopes and Dreams

The following weeks were busy ones for Harry. It was ironic that Occlumency lessons with Professor Dumbledore had proven to be more difficult yet easier at the same time than they had been with Snape. Harry came to realize that Snape had not really tried to teach Harry anything on the matter. His orders to close his mind were pointless since he had never taught Harry exactly how to do that. Dumbledore was different. Harry could see what an extremely talented teacher he was. Sometimes, while lying in bed at night, Harry would wonder what it would have been like to sit in one of Professor Dumbledore's classes when he had been Transfiguration teacher.

The dawn of October brought a new kind of fervor to the castle. The talk had turned to quidditch and Harry began to feel increasingly nervous. Since Angelina Johnson had graduated Katie Bell would now be Gryffindor's new team captain. Harry had spoken to Katie a handful of times since the term began, but never had they mentioned quidditch. A strong sense of worry settled in the pit of Harry's stomach. Maybe Dumbledore had not been able to overturn Harry's ban. Harry made up his mind to speak to Professor McGonagall about it following his next Transfiguration lesson.

That day approached quickly and Harry felt a little shame at being so nervous. He was too afraid of what he might here. However, Ginny's words a few months ago spurred him on and gave him courage. McGonagall will kill Dumbledore if I'm not allowed to play, Harry thought as the rest of the class filed out of the room. Harry glanced at Ron and Hermione one last time before approaching McGonagall's desk. They both offered reassuring looks.

"Um, Professor?" Harry asked weakly.

"Oh, Potter," she answered in greeting. "I was hoping to speak with you. I'm glad you chose to stay behind a few minutes."

"You are? I mean, you did?" Harry blushed. McGonagall just smiled.

"Perhaps you should tell me what is bothering you," the professor prodded.

"Well, Gryffindor's first quidditch match is next month and Katie..."

"It appears," Professor McGonagall interrupted, "our conversation is one in the same." Harry began to feel the worry in his stomach to change to that of hope.

"It's just that I know Katie is captain and she hasn't spoken to me yet, and I was starting to think I was still banned from playing," disclosed Harry.

"Katie is not the team captain," replied McGonagall.

"What?" Harry asked. "Who is then?"

"You are."

"Me?" Harry was thoroughly flabbergasted. One moment he thought his quidditch days were over the next he was a team captain. "Why is Katie not the captain? She's been on the team longer than me."

"Oh, I offered the captaincy to her of course," McGonagall explained, "but she declined. Katie felt she wanted to devote her extra time to her studies seeing as this is her final year. A wise move I must say. So, Potter, you are the next logical choice."

"I'm honored Professor, but..." Professor McGonagall's face fell as Harry spoke, "but I have a lot on my plate too. What with extra Occlumency lessons and the threat of Voldemort, I'm not sure I can be an entirely effective captain."

"I am happy that you have your priorities in order, Potter, but it seems that I am running out of options!" McGonagall responded pursing her lips. It is funny how one's brain will work sometimes. A flicker of memory stirred in the recesses of Harry's brain. The Mirror of Erised flashed as if before his eyes. Harry smiled. Here was the answer.

"Professor," Harry began, "might I make a suggestion?"

"Of course," McGonagall said looking extremely interested.

"What about a co-captaincy?" Harry offered.

"Co-captaincy? Who?" McGonagall asked.

"Me and Ron. It's perfect. I have the experience and Ron is the best strategist I've ever seen. You should see the way he plays chess," Harry explained. Professor McGonagall pondered this idea for awhile.

"Yes, I believe that is acceptable," she stated at last. "And seeing as it was your idea, I will let you inform Mr. Weasley." Harry smiled broadly and set off for the door at a run before McGonagall's voice caused him to hesitate. "Potter!" she called. "Do try an win again this year, won't you? I've become accustomed to seeing the Quidditch Cup in my office."

Harry could hardly contain himself as he ran through he corridors looking for Ron and Hermione. He was playing quidditch again! What was more was he was happy he could help make Ron's dream come true. He could help get the captaincy, but Ron would have to become Head Boy on his own. Lost in thought, Harry turned the corner that would lead to the stairs down to the Great Hall. Harry was taken completely by surprise when he felt something catch him around the ankles. He skid six or seven feet on his chest before coming to a halt. Harry's glasses had flown off, but the malicious laughter behind him made it unnecessary to realize who had tripped him.

Harry rolled over onto his back, but before he could stand a large foot stepped onto his chest pinning him to the floor. It was Goyle. Through blurred vision, Harry could see Malfoy striding toward him with Crabbe not far behind.

"We're not on a crowded street to save you now, Potter," Malfoy snarled. "I think I am going to really enjoy this." Harry tried to reach his wand in his robes, but Goyle's foot on his chest was blocking every attempt to do so. Harry had to admit to himself that he never thought Malfoy would get the better of him, but at this moment Harry was vulnerable.

"Petrificus Totalus!" a voice rang out from along the corridor. Though Harry could not see well, he felt Goyle snap together and fall stiff as a board to the ground. Someone was coming to Harry's aid. Whoever it is they have impeccable timing, Harry thought.

"Impedimenta!" The voice shouted again. Harry scrambled around on the ground to find his glasses. He stumbled across them next to Goyle's prone body. Returning them to his face Harry turned around to see Neville, of all people, advancing upon the scene. "Stupefy!" Neville yelled one last time. At that, Malfoy fell to the floor stunned. Harry looked at the three Slytherins and blinked widely at Neville. The once timid Gryffindor was also surveying the scene, admiring the damage he had inflicted.

"Thank you, Neville," Harry stammered.

"Don't mention it," Neville replied confidently. "It was nice to use my new wand in an...er...practical situation." Neville was beaming holding out his wand for Harry to view. Harry suddenly remembered how Neville's old wand, which had been his father's, was broken in the battle at the Department of Mysteries.

"Wow, it looks like mine," Harry said noticing the similarities. Indeed Neville's new wand looked to be made out of holly and about the same length.

"Yeah," commented Neville. "Mr. Ollivander said that holly wands are common for people born in July."

Harry and Neville made their way back to Gryffindor Tower discussing various things. Neville told Harry all about his summer and his grandmother's reaction to his involvement at the Ministry in June. "She took it really well, actually," Neville explained. "I thought she'd be really mad at me because of Dad's wand, but I think that I finally made Gran proud of me." Neville was beaming again. Harry smiled in return. He knew what it was like to have to live with a certain stigma because of who you were. Yet, Harry could not imagine what Neville's childhood must have been growing up with the stigma of who you weren't. Perhaps now Neville had escaped his father's shadow.

"Narro Veritas!" Harry said once they reached the Fat Lady.

"Indeed," replied the portrait sleepily. She swung open allowing the two wizards to enter. Harry bade Neville farewell at that point having spotted Ron and Hermione by the fire.

"Harry!" Hermione greeted blushing for some reason. "How did it go?"

"Oh great!" Harry said excitedly. "Not only am I back on the team but I'm captain too!"

Ron whooped out of excitement, but Hermione looked thoughtful. "Harry," she said cautiously, "don't you think you've got enough to worry about without having to plan quidditch practices and such." It was obvious that she didn't want to burst Harry's bubble too soon, but Harry had already known where she was headed. Ron, however, was looking scandalized.

"Don't worry, Hermione," grinned Harry. "I'm going to have plenty of help."

"What do you mean?" she asked curiously.

"Because Ron's captain too."

Ron began to cough and choke wildly. "What?" he gasped. Harry could no longer contain his laughter.

"I told McGonagall that I thought I could not handle being captain by myself and that you would do a great job," Harry chuckled. "So we're co-captains."

Ron immediately took to his new role with an incredible appetite. As Harry explained to he and Hermione what had transpired in the corridor with Malfoy and Neville, Ron busied himself with preparing a practice schedule and tryout poster.

"I wish I could have seen Malfoy's face when he realized it was Neville who got the best of him," Ron said holding up his poster for Harry and Hermione to scrutinize.

"To be honest, Neville and I didn't hang around for him to wake up," Harry said. "But I think we'll have to be careful, I bet Malfoy will be really gunning for Neville now." Hermione nodded her agreement as Ron strode across the common room and tacked his poster to the notice board.

"We only have one position to replace," Ron mused. Harry realized that his friend was far too occupied by thoughts of quidditch for any serious discussion. Hermione had noticed this as well, which was evident by her rolling eyes.

Gryffindor quidditch tryouts were a fairly quick affair that Friday night. Only a handful of prospective players had turned up, and though none were terrible the choice was fairly obvious.

"I think we should choose Euan Abercrombie," Harry decided.

"Yeah," concurred Ron. "Almost everyone had a good tryout, but I think that Euan showed just a little more desire than the others."

Harry smiled as he remembered Euan as a terrified-looking first year the previous year. Though Euan was still quite tiny, he was now a much more confident second year. If Harry really thought about it, he supposed Euan reminded him a bit of himself. He had thought that the first moment he laid eyes on the boy and he still felt that way.

Harry yawned widely. He realized just how tired he was. It was a good thing the next day was Saturday. Harry could use the extra rest. He and Ron made their way back up to the castle from the quidditch pitch. They talked excitedly about the upcoming season and their chances to retain the cup for another year.

"I think I'm going straight to bed," Harry announced was he and Ron finally reached the common room.

"Okay," Ron replied and he left to join a studying Hermione at a table. As Harry ascended the staircase to the dormitories he could not help but smile when he heard Ron say, "It's 9:00 on Friday night! What are you studying Arithmancy for?"

Harry changed into his pajamas and sank restfully into his pillows. He sighed contently as his eyelids became heavier with each passing second. In no time Harry was deep in sleep dreaming of quidditch victories and happier times....

Harry's trusty Firebolt was weaving in and out of a multitude of opposing players. It was poetry in motion. There was the snitch glittering before him. If he could just reach it. Harry stretched out his fingers. He was only inches away, but then the snitch seemed to be gathering speed. It was pulling away! Harry's Firebolt was unable to match its pace. This isn't right, Harry thought. He reached out again, willing his arm to extend as far as possible....

The dream changed....

"Welcome, Mr. Potter," said a high, cold voice, "I've been expecting you. It has been wrong of you to keep me waiting these last few months. I had hoped you would come to me much sooner." Harry could not see anything. He could only sense a presence. As if once more reaching for the golden snitch Harry's stretched out his hand grasping blindly into darkness. "You can not reach me here, Potter," the voice continued. "I am like the wisp of smoke left lingering from an extinguished candle. But do not despair, my friend, you will see me eye to eye soon enough." The voice was laughing now and a mixture of anger and dread congested Harry's soul.

"Where are you?" Harry asked.

"Patience, Potter," the voice said. "It is only a matter of time before we meet again, by then it will be too late for you. I have a new weapon, a weapon that will render your talents useless. But do not fret, I will make myself known to you long before then." The tone in the voice was mocking now. Harry looked all around, but all remained as black as ever. "You will see me in the one's you hold dear. You will know when I strike them down and leave you a human wasteland. Until then, sweet dreams, my young friend."

Harry awoke with a start. The first rays of dawn were creeping up over the horizon. Harry's dream must have lasted most of the night. Harry could feel the urgency well up inside him. He must go, he must tell the one man who could help. Harry did not even bother to put on his slippers or grab his dressing gown. Barefoot and clad only in his pajamas, Harry flew down the dormitory steps and out of the portrait hole. His heart was hammering in his ears as he ran. How he would get past Dumbledore's gargoyle he did not know. All he knew was that he get there as quickly as he could.

Harry turned the corridor that led to Dumbledore's office. The gargoyle was in sight and only spurred Harry to run faster. The final few steps to the entrance Harry racked his brain for passwords, but the gargoyle jumped aside before he could utter a single guess. Albus Dumbledore was riding down the rotating stairs with a mug in his hand.

"Harry?" the professor exclaimed bewildered to see his student outside his office so early in the morning. Dumbledore was wearing a snowy white nightshirt beneath an ornate purple dressing gown. "Harry what are you doing here?"

"I...had...a...dream!" Harry gasped out of breath. He suddenly realized how cold his feet felt upon the stone floor.

"Come," Professor Dumbledore ordered and ushered Harry onto the stairs. They reentered Dumbledore's office and the older wizard steered Harry toward his fireplace. With a flick of his wand a roaring fire appeared in the grate. "You must be freezing," Dumbledore surmised.

"Thank you, Sir," Harry said noticing himself shivering.

"Now, tell me about this dream," Dumbledore requested. The professor flicked his wand once more and produced two steaming mugs of hot chocolate.

"It was different from all the dreams I've had before now," Harry explained accepting his hot chocolate.

"How so?" inquired the Headmaster.

"Well, before I would be Voldemort, you know, exist in the dream from his perspective. But this time it was like Voldemort sought me out to talk to me," said Harry. If Dumbledore found this information odd or unexpected he acted as though it did not. "He said he has a new weapon."

"A weapon?" Dumbledore questioned arching an eyebrow. "What kind of weapon?"

"I don't know, Sir," Harry replied. "He just said that it would 'render my talents useless.'" Professor Dumbledore stared into his mug of hot chocolate as though it could provide him with answers.

"Harry, did you practice your Occlumency before you went to bed?" Professor Dumbledore asked.

"No," Harry sighed guiltily. "I guess I was so tired I fell asleep and forgot about it." Dumbledore's lips thinned to a very small line. "Sorry," Harry added.

"Harry I am not upset or angry with you," Dumbledore consoled. "I am just unsure that you are ready for what I am going to ask of you."

"What do you mean, Professor?" Harry asked.

"I guess I do not know if you trust me yet."

"Trust you?" Harry stammered. "What do you want me to do?"

"Harry, I want you to give me permission to look into your mind to view your dream as you had," Professor Dumbledore revealed. "Will you allow me to do so?"

"What will that accomplish?" Harry inquired uncertainly. He knew Dumbledore would not hurt him, but he was not comfortable with the idea of someone probing his thoughts.

"I am hoping it will provide us with some insight as to Voldemort's plans," said Dumbledore.

Harry closed his eyes and sighed. "Okay," he consented. Harry sat down onto a chair and turned to face his professor. Dumbledore pulled another chair in front of his pupil and likewise sat down.

"Relax you mind, Harry," Dumbledore directed. The older wizard stared intently into Harry's eyes. At first Harry thought that nothing had happened. When Snape intruded into Harry's brain it felt forced, almost violent. Dumbledore's gaze was soft, almost nonexistent. Harry was about to ask if Dumbledore had began when...

"Where are you?" Harry asked.

Strike down, Harry thought. Strike down those whom I hold dear...Sirius... Sirius struck down...

The memory in Harry's brain became enveloped in a brilliant light. It was almost as though Harry's subconscious had to close its eyes to it. When the blazing glow subsided Harry was no longer hearing Voldemort's voice. Instead he was back in the Department of Mysteries. In the Death Room to be exact.

No, Harry thought. I don't want to see this again.

Only one couple were still battling, apparently unaware of the new arrival. Harry saw Sirius duck Bellatrix's jet of red light: He was laughing at her. "Come one, you can do better than that!" he yelled, his voice echoing around the cavernous room.

The second jet of red light hit him squarely on the chest.

The laughter had not quite died from his face, but his eyes widened in shock.

Harry released Neville, though he was unaware of doing so. He was jumping down the steps again pulling out his wand, as Dumbledore turned to the dais too.

It seemed to take Sirius an age to fall...

"NOOOOOOOOO!" Harry shouted. "I DON'T WANT TO SEE THIS AGAIN!" Deep in the recesses of Harry's brain an animal was unleashed. A fierce, snarling creature that fought its way forward. The creature pushed hard against the memory until it was once again enveloped in brilliant light. Harry's ears were filled with a sound like rushing wind or water. It was deafening. When his awareness returned as the dazzling light and sound abruptly stopped. Harry was no longer seeing Sirius, or hearing Voldemort's voice. It was a new vision to him, something most certainly not from his own mind.

"Mama!" cried a small boy of five or six. The boy was crawling on his hand and knees to the body of a woman lying lifeless on the floor. She had the same auburn hair and blue eyes of the boy beside her, but her eyes were glazed and absent of any spark. "Mama, wake up!" pleaded the boy again shaking one of the woman's shoulders. Tears cascaded down the child's cheeks. When they fell softly upon the woman's expressionless face, the memory changed once more in a rush of images.

The young child was gone, instead a man stood leaning his forehead against a wall. The man had the same auburn hair and blue eyes. The man pounded his fist upon the wall, the anguish on his face was obvious. "I'm sorry!" the man shouted. "My God, what have I done! I am so sorry..."

"ENOUGH!" a voice yelled out onto the air.

Harry felt himself slam back into his seat. His eyes fluttered open. He was back in Dumbledore's office. Professor Dumbledore was leaning forward in his seat, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. Harry could see the sweat beading upon Dumbledore's brow.

"Sir?" Harry offered timidly. Dumbledore leaned far back in his own chair with a loud, sudden exhale. "Sir?" Harry asked again.

"No one has ever pushed that far into my mind Harry," Dumbledore murmured wearily. "Please do not do that again."

Harry could not believe his ears. How could Dumbledore have the audacity to make such a request when he had just done the exact same thing? He had tried to force Harry to relive Sirius's death. "HOW DARE YOU!" Harry shouted suddenly.

"I beg your pardon?" replied a clearly dismayed Professor Dumbledore.

"YOU INVADED MY MEMORY ABOUT SIRIUS! WHY?" Harry was seething with rage.

"Harry," Dumbledore spoke so softly Harry had to strain to hear him. The Headmaster slid forward off his seat to kneel in front of his student. He placed each hand on either arm of Harry's chair. "Harry, I did not invoke your memory of Sirius. You did that."

Harry blinked incredulously. "I did? How did I do that?"

"Sometimes our memories will link to one another," Dumbledore disclosed. "Harry I could hear your thoughts while observing your dream. Your brain connected Voldemort's threat to attack those you love with Sirius's death. I would never force you to relive anything you did not wish to share with me." Dumbledore rose to his feet and returned to his vacated chair.

"Sir?" Harry asked hesitantly. "May I ask you something."

"Of course," the professor remarked.

"The little boy, and the man," Harry began nervously, "were they...were they you?"

Professor Dumbledore sighed heavily again. "I suppose," he said, "that since you have already seen it I may as well offer an explanation for what you witnessed. Yes, the little boy was me."

"What happened?" Harry prodded.

"What you saw was the result of an attack on our home when I was a child. My mother and I were home alone when two men came to the door. At five years of age I, of course, had no idea what was going on. My mother hid me in a closet and told me to remain quiet until she came back for me."

"But she didn't come back," interjected Harry.

"No, I crawled from my hiding place to discover her as you observed in the memory. She was dead," Dumbledore voice broke painfully.

"I'm sorry," Harry mumbled. Dumbledore waved his hand dismissively and stared out the window. The sun had risen properly now and the first of the early-risers were heading down to breakfast. "Sir, what about the man?"

Dumbledore turned to face his student. A tear hung in the corner of his eye and the professor wiped it away before going on. "That was me about fifty years ago, but Harry, if you will forgive me, I do not wish to explain any further."

Harry nodded. As miserable as Harry had felt in recent weeks it was nothing compared to now. Harry realized how completely shortsighted he had been. He was not the only one who had suffered in his lifetime. Professor Dumbledore's memories were an epiphany into this new reality.

"Harry," Dumbledore said shaking Harry from his reverie. "I think you had better head back to you tower. We will discuss this another time." The professor smiled weakly.

Harry rose from his seat and made his way to the door. As he paused in the entryway he turned back to look reassuringly into Professor Dumbledore's face. He knew that he had already forgiven the Headmaster, but Harry understood that the time had come for Dumbledore to let go of his guilt regarding Harry.

"Sir?" Harry prompted. Professor Dumbledore met Harry's gaze with yet another half-hearted smile. "I just wanted to let you know that I forgive you for not telling me about the prophecy sooner. We all have regrets, Professor, let this one go." With a few more steps Harry slipped from Dumbledore's presence, but not before softly whispering, "I trust you."

The second jet of red light hit him squarely on the chest.

The laughter had not quite died from his face, but his eyes widened in shock.

Harry released Neville, though he was unaware of doing so. He was jumping down the steps again pulling out his wand, as Dumbledore turned to the dais too.

It seemed to take Sirius an age to fall...

-Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Chapter 35, "Beyond the Veil", pp. 805-806, American Edition