Authoress Ramble: Well, as you see I'm back. Not that you care. Cahpter 1 (Changes Within) has been rewritten on the 31st of March. Feel free to reread it.


Worse Than Nightmares

'Harry! Harry, wake up, mate!'

Ron's voice echoed through Harry's mind, slipping away like oil on water. His eyes fluttered open, but he shut them again. The light hurt. His body hurt. He wanted darkness, cool and blissful. With a groan Harry turned against the wall.

'Come on, mate, Mum says the dinner's ready,' said Ron from somewhere above and behind.

Harry couldn't find the strength to open his mouth, less so speak. He stared unseeingly at the brown wall. His eyelids were heavy with sleep and every bone in his body had somehow turned into rock while he slept. Two weeks worth of tiredness had kicked in.

After a while Ron left the room and Harry felt relieved. As much as he liked his best friend, he just wanted to sleep. He wanted to sleep and sleep and maybe then the pain would go away. Harry heard the vague noises of the Weasleys' dinner, but wasn't really all that bothered.

At some point he had crawled in between the sheets and could now smell a faint vanilla on them. It was familiar and he felt safe. The brown wall smelled of old paint and dust, like the room had not been used for very long. He thought he should be curious and turn around to explore the room, but there was no strength within him. His eyes closed and once again, Harry Potter slept.

When he came to the next time, there was a plate with spaghetti and meatballs placed only inches from his nose. He assumed it had a permanent Warming Charm, because the house was at peace, someone snored in the other bed and the moonlight spilled over the floor. Now Harry could see that the beds were placed on each side of the room, his trunk hidden under the desk beneath the window. From where he lay he could see another desk squeezed in between the wall and the foot of the other bed.

Slowly Harry dragged himself into sitting position and reached for the plate. His hands shook visibly when he stabled the plate against his knees and leaned against the headboard. It felt like even those small movements had exhausted him and he just sat there for a while before slowly beginning to eat. Quite the opposite of what he had thought, he was actually hungry. It didn't take long for him to empty the plate and when finished he sighed.

The person in the other bed mumbled and shifted. The moonlight fell upon the features of Charlie Weasley who snored loudly before turning away again. Harry wondered why Charlie would be in England when he ought been working for a Dragon Centre in Romania, but then he yawned. He sat the plate back on the desk and crept back under the quilt.

Sirius fell and fell and fell – Cedric's eyes stared at him unseeingly - and fell and he couldn't stop it –

Harry woke up screaming, shivering with the coldness that surrounded him, ate him from the inside out. There was noise and movement and then he found that arms wrapped themselves around him, trapping him. He fought against them, trying to breath and stop crying but whoever was holding him wouldn't let go. Harry was trapped; trapped within those arms, trapped within him self. He wanted it to end and it seemed to go on forever.

He gasped hysterically for air, feeling it go down his lungs but not finding any oxygen within it. Suddenly his head was pushed down, over the edge of the bed. The air was cooler near the floor and he swallowed as if he'd never breathed before. He retched and vomited until there was nothing left inside him.

The world began coming into focus again just in time for him to see Mrs Weasley bursting in through the door, clutching her dressing gown with one hand, wand in the other. Behind her he saw Ron and one of the twins, all of them looking worried. When he sat up he found Charlie sitting on his bed.

'Better?' asked Charlie, smiling.

Harry nodded and dried his mouth in the napkin that Charlie offered. He still shivered slightly.

'Sorry I woke you up,' he said weakly. 'I didn't mean to –'

'Don't be sorry, dear,' said Mrs Weasley, waving her wand to get rid of the vomit. 'Do you want anything? Tea? Water?'

'No, thank you.' Harry shook his head. 'I'll just go back to sleep.'

'Are you sure?' She frowned.

'Yes, I'll just … I'm sorry …' he tried.

'Oh, don't be dear, you absolutely sure you're fine now?'

Harry felt a bit pleased that she cared so much and offered her a faint smile. The light spilled in through the door, making the four Weasleys' hair look like on fire. Ron was mouthing something and Harry shook his head slightly; he knew Ron wondered if it had been a vision about Voldemort. Fred looked like a worried zombie, asleep on his feet.

'I'll be here, Mum,' Charlie said, 'I'll take care of it if it happens again.'

'I can –' Ron begun.

'I'm fine,' said Harry sternly. 'I had a nightmare, that's all.'

'Well…' Mrs Weasley looked doubtful. 'All right then, you're here, Charlie, so sleep well.'

'What's the matter?' asked Ginny sleepily, appearing behind her mother. 'I thought I heard someone screaming.'

'Just Harry having nightmares, dear,' her mother said while closing the door. 'Nothing to worry about.'

Charlie walked over to his own bed and Harry lay down on his back. He hadn't expected the dreams to return so soon, but then again he hadn't had time to do any expecting. He let his head fall to the left and stared out into the dark room. Charlie's breaths soon slowed down and he begun snoring slightly.

Harry staid awake for a long time before sighing and slipping into the dreamless slumber.


The morning didn't seek out the Borrow in a quiet manner. What awoke Harry was someone screaming at the top of her lungs and for a second Harry panicked before he could extinguish the words.

' – THIRD TIME THIS WEEK! OUT! BOTH OF YOU! GET OUT!'

Harry, who had bolted up, growled and slumped back onto the bed. He did so not want to know what who had done but it didn't take long before Ron practically fell through the door, sniggering. His striped pyjama was way too short and his hair stood straight up.

'You have to hear this,' the red head said panting, 'Mum found Puking Pastilles in the scones for the third time –'

'I don't think he could miss that,' said Charlie and sat up, rubbing his eyes. 'I bet you anything she's in quite a state. Be clever and avoid the kitchen for a while.'

'But I'm starving!' whined Ron.

'There's some chocolate in my trunk,' Harry said.

Charlie rose out of the bed, wearing only the pyjamas bottom. He was shorter than the twins and broad shouldered, the freckles spread all over his body, making it look tanned. Ron attacked the trunk in a leap worthy of Hermione's cat Crookshanks. Harry sighed. Some things never changed.

'Never mind to ask.'

'Swojy gjumid?'

'Too late for that, isn't it?' said Charlie. 'Mum wont be happy if she catches you eating candy before breakfast, Ron.'

Ron swallowed hard and not a bit too early; the next second Mrs Weasley burst into the room, a frown on her face. She wore an old apron and her hair seemed to be cracking. Harry and Charlie followed Ron's example.

'You lot not dressed yet?' she snapped before her eyes narrowed. 'Is that a chocolate stain, Ron?'

'From yesterday,' Ron said haughtily.

His mother snorted but refrained from further comments.

'Feeling better, Harry?' she asked and Harry nodded. 'Well, get down to breakfast then.'

With that Mrs Weasley swept out of there, Ron in her tail. Harry stood and searched the now open trunk for clothes while Charlie rummaged the large wardrobe at the foot of Harry's bed.

All dressed they soon left for the kitchen, finding Mrs Weasley still muttering to herself. It was an old kitchen with a wood stove. Ginny sat at the table; her nose stuck in the Daily Prophet, barely noticing what she was eating. She wore a t-shirt and jeans and her red hair hung in a plait down her back.

'Hi, Harry,' she said, looking up. 'Had anymore nightmares?'

'No. Sorry that I woke you up,' Harry mumbled.

'Never mind,' said Ginny and returned to the newspaper.

Harry reached for the toast, but there was a lurch in his stomach and he withdrew his hand. Ron gave him an odd look before attacking the pile of toasts. Harry stuck to the pumpkin juice. Ginny turned the page and Mrs Weasley kept muttering things.

'Anything new in there?' Ron asked between bites.

'Nothing,' Ginny sighed.

The room swaying slowly before Harry's eyes and he pressed his fingertips against them. The twins Apparated into the kitchen and their mother pointedly turned her back at them. This wasn't her week at all, Harry decided.

'Nice lungs you got, Harry. How're you feeling?' asked George.

'A bit dizzy.'

'Better eat something, you've lost weight,' said Ron.

At that, Mrs Weasley turned sharply and watched Harry before grabbing a plate and filling it with food. Harry sighed when she nearly smashed the plate down in front of him.

'You're not moving before you've eaten that,' she snapped. 'George, take your brother out of here. I told you the two of you aren't welcome here.'

'But I'm starving, Mum,' Fred tried.

'Out.'

George snatched Ron's plate and the twins Disapparated. Harry sighed and begun chewing himself through the pile of toast. He was half way through when he saw Ginny glare at Ron and rub her shin. Ron nodded towards the doorway and she glared some more.

'Thanks, Mum,' Ron said cheerfully, grabbed Harry's arm and dragged him out of there.

They headed for Ron's room where the twins lay sprawled over Ron's bed, plate between them. George smiled impishly, saluting them with a piece of toast in his hand. Fred feigned a bow.

'Thank you, good sir, for giving us this room and something to eat,' he said grinning.

'Shut up. Next time, take Harry's plate, he's not eating it anyhow. Move your feet, George, or I'll sit on them.'

A large poster had been pinned up above Ron's bed. It was orange and had a moving picture of Ron's favourite Quidditch team the Chudley Cannons. On the other side of the room was a bunk bed that obviously was occupied by the twins. Harry moved some comic books and sat down on the only chair in the room. Pigwidgeon was twittering madly and zoomed around Ron's head.

'Ginny coming?' George asked.

'If Mum doesn't make her look for Nosebleed Nougat, or something.'

'That reminds me. Watch out for anything Mum may bake.'

'I'd forgotten that,' Fred admitted. 'We shouldn't have done that.'

'Maybe not. Too late now, huh?'

'Regret? That's something new,' said Ginny who had stepped in through the door. 'Getting soft on older days?'

'Not really,' George grinned, 'I just don't want to miss dinner as well.'

'Ah, purely egoistic reasons, you should've been Slytherins. So, gonna tell him?'

The twins pretended to be deeply affronted, but Harry frowned. Ginny climbed to the top bed.

'Tell me what?' he asked.

'About Hogwarts! Someone caught Dumbledore speaking about dragons. There's so much rumours that Rita Skeeter wouldn't be able to keep up.'

'If she's not creating them,' Ron added bitterly. 'She's been selling a lot of stories to the Witch Weekly.'

'You sent me the magazine?' Harry asked. 'What for?'

'What magazine?' Fred asked, digging his pocket. 'We sent you something, but it shouldn't arrive yet.'

'I got an exemplar of Witch Weekly last Thursday,' Harry explained. 'Right before Errol arrived.'

'Not us,' said the twins in chorus.

'I haven't sent anything,' said Ginny, frowning.

'Me neither,' agreed Ron. 'There wasn't a note?'

'Of course there wasn't, Ronnie,' George sighed, 'he'd have known who it was from then.'

'Didn't I tell you to shut up a while ago?'

'That was Fred. Pay some attention and you'll be able tell us apart one of these days.'

Ron breathed deeply and opened his mouth.

'You were going to tell me something,' Harry interrupted.

'Oh, yes, dragons,' Fred grinned. 'As Ginny said, someone caught Dumbledore mentioning them –'

'And Hogwarts in the same breath,' George finished.

'Someone?' Ron scowled.

'It might have been Lee, but we wouldn't know, would we, George?'

''Course not! What are we, gossipers?'

'Cut it off, both of you,' Ginny said. 'So, dragons and Hogwarts. Could you hide a dragon on the Forbidden Forrest?'

'Uh – think so,' Harry said. 'No, I'm sure you could.'

He thought of Grawp, Hagrid's half-brother. The giant had been hiding in the Forrest for weeks before Harry and Hermione found out and as far as Harry was concerned, you could well hide a dragon in there. Then something struck him.

'It's not Norbert, right?' he asked.

'Hope not,' said Ron, swallowing. 'Getting him out of the castle once was awful, thank you very much.'

'Did I miss something?' Ginny frowned. 'When did you smuggle a dragon out from Hogwarts?'

'First year.' Ron shrugged. 'Hagrid tried to raise a dragon but we got him sent off with some dragon tamers to Romania. I really, really hope Charlie didn't bring him back. Add the Hungarian Horntail that tried to eat Harry two years ago. I've had enough of dragons for a lifetime, I tell you.'

Suddenly the room was too small for all the people in there. Harry tried to breath deeply, but exactly as before, there was no oxygen in his lungs. He began breathing faster and faster still, feeling the world spin around him to brutally stop when Ginny was pushing his head down between his knees. It was as if he'd been travelling fifty miles an hour and crashed into a fence. Sweat broke out on his forehead though he shivered with cold and his heart raced.

'Harry?' Ginny called. 'Harry? You all right?'

'No air,' Harry gasped before fainting.

When he woke up he was on the floor, Ginny, Ron and the twins were all kneeling above him wearing similar frowns of worry. Harry smiled and tried to sit up. The world swayed a little but it wasn't all that dangerous anymore. He just felt exhausted to the bone again, like when he had a nightmare.

'I'm fine now,' he said brightly. 'Nothing to worry about.'

'You sure? That was … frightening.' Ginny shivered. 'I think we should talk to Mum so that she can call Madame Pomfrey.'

A yell was heard through the floor and the twins cringed. They exchanged worried looks before smiling apologetically.

'Now's not the best time to speak with her, I guess,' Fred said.

'We so shouldn't have mixed that into the flour,' George added. 'I s'pose it's Diagon Alley tonight, then.'

'We'll just have to take the spare beds again, Anthony wont mind. It always lowers his rent.'

With two loud cracks they were gone, leaving Harry and the two Weasleys to deal with the completely furious Mrs Weasley.


The next few days passed by in a blur. The mornings became harder for Harry, he didn't want to rise and it often took a long time for him to do something simple. The nightmares increased, leaving Charlie to wake him up every other hour. He didn't want to sleep but was constantly too tired to do else wise.

'Your turn.'

Harry's head snatched up and he stared at Ron like he'd have said Professor McGonagall sprouted feathers last night. They were playing cards in Ron's room and Harry had been about to win. That was to say, last time he actually paid attention. Now he had a hand with completely useless cards and the Queen of Spades was making obscene gestures.

'I give up,' Harry sighed. 'I've got a headache.'

'You sure you're all right, Harry?' Ron asked. 'You seem … distant.'

'I dunno. I just … I'm just very tired all the time. Must be the nightmares.'

Ron looked doubtful and Harry sighed again. He did feel distant, but he couldn't bare himself to talk about it. It was as if the words got stuck somewhere inside. He'd spoken a little with Charlie after some of the nightmares, but that was barely anything at all. Harry could feel everyone walking on his or her toes round him and it annoyed him. He was tired, not made of glass for heavens sake.

'Hello? Harry?'

Ron was waving his hand in front of Harry's face and Harry frowned.

'I said you probably need to pack,' Ron explained

'Pack?'

'Yes, Mum told us at breakfast that we're moving to Grimmuald Place tomorrow. It's only for the weekend.'

'Right,' Harry mumbled.

He could remember that Mrs Weasley had indeed said something among the lines, but hadn't really been listening. To think of Grimmuald Place hurt and he shook his head clear of the thoughts. Ron frowned again before he abruptly stood and glared at Harry. Right then Ginny walked into the room.

'Why are you shaking your head?' she asked.

'Uh – thinking,' Harry answered quickly. 'What were you saying?'

'Mum wants us to come downstairs and help her find all the joke food that the twins've hidden.'

'Mum's off her nut,' said Ron, rolling his eyes. 'That'd take ages.'

'Ron, get off it.' Ginny scowled. 'Mum's not nuts!'

At that Ron stiffened before grabbing his Self-Shuffling playing cards. Another moment and he threw them across the room, staring at Harry.

'I've had it,' Ron snapped. 'I know you've had a tough time, Harry, and so have we, but this is ridiculous. It takes ages to make you even look at one of us and –'

'Ron,' Ginny tried.

'Shut up, Ginny. You know what I mean, you're not stupid. Everything's a mess round here! Mum's of her nut because Dad's barely ever at home, that goes for Bill too, Charlie's gay, Percy's gone, the twins play more stupid jokes than ever, I'll probably not make any OWL:s and you – you're – whatever! Then Harry's not feeling well, he wakes us up all the time during nights and he wont talk to anyone. I'm sorry, I've had it. Get out!'

Harry found himself outside the room along with Ginny, both of them feeling rather stunned. This wasn't Ron's normal behaviour, not in the least. Harry looked at Ginny, who was staring wide-eyed at the door. Then the stairs begun creaking and in a Harry saw Molly coming up, levitating a trey filled with steaming food. She smiled at them, wrinkles showing in the corners of her eyes and a tired air around her. Harry automatically took the trey when it floated past him.

'Why are you lot standing here?' Mrs Weasley asked. 'The kitchen's a mess, so I thought I'd bring your dinner up here instead. You can help me after you've eaten.'

'Thanks, Mum. Ron's just tried, so he went to sleep,' said Ginny quickly. 'We'll eat in my room.'

'He's had an awful lot of trouble sleeping this summer, he too. Poor Ronnie,' Molly sighed. 'All right, dears, but you need to pack your things tonight. We're moving you to Grimmuald Place.'

Harry and Ginny ate in Ginny's room before helping Mrs Weasley with the kitchen. It sure was a mess, flour covering the wall. Mrs Weasley handed them mops while she'd try make the stains go away with her wand. They didn't.
It was much, much later that night when Harry got to pack his things. It had been a long day and he felt tired when he kneeled next to his trunk and begun packing the stuff he needed in a rucksack. He didn't even notice falling asleep over the trunk.

The world was spinning; Harry felt a dizzy feeling that begun from somewhere inside. There was joy, he was laughing. Someone lay writhing in pain on the ground before him, the air filled with screams. Bones cracked, the man bleed from his nose and Harry laughed harder.

'Ah, how wonderful,' he said and the man quitted screaming. 'I think that will teach you to not disobey me'

The man coughed, laying limp on the ground. Harry kicked his stomach and the man howled in pain again. When he looked up Harry recognized him as Johan Jesterweb, the missing tourist guide.

'Oh, what a beautiful music,' sighed Harry. 'I could do with a symphony of that. Now you're going to explain to me why you told Fudge to resign and how we now are going to get hold of the Dragon's Secret. It better be a good explanation.'

'I thought,' the man coughed. '... Could use Umbridge... don't...'

Voldemort kicked him again. 'Crucio', he hissed and John screamed again.

'Wake up, Harry!' Charlie's voice came through the mist of dreams. 'Come on, wake up!'

Harry sat up with a snatch, breathing heavily. He could still hear the echo of Voldemort's laughter in his ears but now he was overwhelmed with the pain in his scar.

'Voldemort,' he tried to say but it sounded more like a harsh whisper. 'Torture. Get Dumbledore.'

And then there was blissful darkness.


'I'm sure he'll be all right, Molly.'

The voice drifted through that darkness and light stung his eyes. Taking a deep breath, Harry opened his eyes and looked up at two worried faces. Dumbledore smiled gently, his half-moon spectacles almost falling off his nose. Mrs Weasley sighed and promptly sat down on the other bed.

'Harry?' he heard Dumbledore ask. 'How are you feeling?'

As he turned towards the old Professor he had to blink. There was a noise annoying him. The old man smiled gently at him, his eyes twinkling behind the half-moon spectacles.

'Professor,' said Harry. 'I'm all right.'

'Oh, fine, fine. Sherbet lemon?' The Headmaster held up a little metal box and Harry shook his head.

The room was small and dark, twin-bedded and had a high ceiling. He recognized it as his and Ron's room at Grimmuald Place. Mrs Weasley was pale and worry clutched to her features. He smiled at her and she looked relieved.

'I'll go get someone to bring you some lunch, dear. Ron and the others are in the kitchen.'

Mrs Weasley then left the room, leaving Harry with Dumbledore, who was smiling at him. Harry sat back and drew breath when the Headmaster held up his hand.

'Before you ask any questions I must ask you one.' Harry nodded in response. 'What exactly did you dream?'

'Voldemort,' Harry said shakily. 'He was torturing John Jesterweb. Said it hadn't been a part of the plan to get Fudge to resign.'

'Ah,' the Headmaster said. 'Anything else?'

'I think that he'd been torturing the man for very long before I fell asleep, sir. They spoke something about the Dragon's Secret, it sounded important.'

'My, so he does know then,' Dumbledore said and looked thoughtful.

'Sir,' Harry asked carefully. 'Know what?'

'The Order is trying something, Harry and Voldemort might just have figured out what. I do believe that your friends will be up here soon and I'll have to leave myself. Was there anything else? Any questions, perhaps?'

'No, sir,' said Harry, not bothering to ask the questions that Ron would be glad to answer.

There was a sudden knock on the door and Charlie stuck his red haired head in. Dumbledore smiled and raised, a gentle twinkle in his eyes.

'I think your lunch is coming as soon as Fred and George can stop levitating it around,' Charlie said. 'Ron is trying to catch it, so if you're lucky you'll get half of it.'

'Unfortunately, I must leave,' said Dumbledore. 'Maybe you can keep Harry a little company until his lunch has quitted flying, Charlie?'

'Sure,' said Charlie and sat down on the bed in front of Harry.

Harry sighed and slumped back, not in the mood of talking. Dumbledore left and Charlie sat there until the twins did get the dinner to float neatly through the door and spill right on Harry's lap. Then Harry couldn't do anything but laugh.

It sort of went downhill from there. They were moved to Grimmuald Place for the rest of the week, but instead of taking Harry's mind off things, the place didn't make him feel better. It was dark and quiet and mournful. Everything above the second landing was forbidden area for Harry and the rest of them, so there was nothing to do.

The next day Harry didn't find the strength to rise out of bed. He barely responded to people that were talking to him. Madame Pomfrey came by the same day but she refused to do else than giving him a Strengthening Draught, saying that she wouldn't mess with the mind if it weren't absolutely necessary.

Ron apologized and tried to get Harry out of bed while Ginny and Mrs Weasley begged him to eat. He didn't look at them and spent most of the time either sleeping or staring into thin air. Energy left him every time he breathed out.

He'd have nightmares when he slept and it ended with Ron switching places with Charlie, who had to wake him up and hold him. Harry didn't notice how Charlie grew paler and thinner along with him. He didn't see how Mrs Weasley would look like she'd been crying. Harry didn't even catch Ron's worried face whenever his best friend would come and see him.

Now and then Ron would come into the room, sitting down on Charlie's bed to tell him what was going on. Somewhere inside Harry knew that he was causing the Weasleys harm by not reacting, but he couldn't find the strength to move or speak. The twins also sneaked in sometimes to tell him about their latest pranks and try cheer him up by demonstrating different joke-articles.

The room was quiet and closed, curtains closed to avoid the sunshine. After five days of apathy, there was a soft knock on the door that Harry didn't respond to. Albus Dumbledore stepped in, his long white beard tucked in beneath his belt. He wore dark blue robes and a pointed hat.

'Good day Charlie,' he said. 'You wouldn't mind bringing us some tea?'

Charlie nodded and left the room, leaving the old Headmaster to sit on a chair in front of Harry. Dumbledore's usually twinkling eyes were filled with sadness when he watched the boy that lay on the bed over his half-moon spectacles. Harry's hair was tousled, his body thinner than ever before and green eyes lifeless. He was sweaty but shivering.

'Harry,' the Headmaster said slowly. 'You're hurting.'

Harry didn't move, didn't blink. He showed no signs of even knowing that the Professor was there but kept staring at the invisible point somewhere to the left of Dumbledore's shoulder.

'I know you are hurting, Harry,' Dumbledore repeated. 'You wouldn't mind me letting some light in, would you? I can barely see you.'

Though Harry showed no sign of responding, Dumbledore stood and pulled the curtains apart. Harry simply closed his eyes against the light.

'There, that's much better, don't you think? I've always liked light when I've been in pain.'

At this Harry's eyes flew open for a second, but soon closed again. Dumbledore sighed, the sadness in his eyes ever greater.

'I told you at the end of last term that a part of being a human is that we know pain. We grief. I can see you are grieving, Harry, but I wonder why you wont let us grieve with you.'

There was silence for a while.

'Do you think that grieving is something for you to carry alone? It is not, Harry. You are not the only one that grieves Sirius,' – Harry flinched slightly – 'and though you were the closest to him, we miss him as well. What's special with you, Harry, is that you hurt so much that you are draining.'

Harry's eyes flew open again, his lifeless eyes now watching the Headmaster.

'You are draining yourself of all your magic – and more important – all life. If this carries on, eventually you will have drained your self too much and then you will die. The simple thing that you have been surrounded by people that loves you will keep you alive for yet a while, but not forever.'

Right then, Charlie came back into the room and Harry closed his eyes again. He heard the Headmaster and Charlie talk over the tea, Charlie ever poured him some, but couldn't find any strength to reply to what Dumbledore had said.

The Headmaster was right, Harry was draining himself. He felt his life leave him, like cold water dripping of his fingers. That was what he wanted, wasn't it? To lie down and sleep, sleep forever. To meet Sirius, Credic and his parents somewhere, past that thin line between life and death.

Pictures whirled through his mind; Ron laughing; Cerdric's dead eyes; Hermione fussing over homework; Voldemort laughing; the twins sniggering; his cupboard; Ginny on the floor of the Chamber of Secrets; Cho Chang diving for the Snitch; Sirius' falling through the veil; Voldemort laughing again.

They overwhelmed him and he opened his eyes to see Dumbledore watching him. He was standing at the door, holding it open. A moment passed and then Dumbledore left.

Later that night when Charlie slept, Harry rose on trembling feet and stared at the window. His reflection stared back at him and he saw how his lifeless eyes slowly turned into steel. He closed them and focused on the feeling of draining. It was sort of as if his wrist would be sliced open, yet not. The face of Bellatrix Lestrange was laughing at him somewhere inside his mind and he pictured how he'd hit her.

It filled him with a strange sort of relief, though his anger was building. The draining had stopped and his heart beat harder and harder as he thought of revenge. When he opened his eyes again they were no longer lifeless but a thin glass between his anger and the world.

The next day he appeared at breakfast, to the joy of Mrs Weasley, but he had once again changed. Changes were becoming a second nature for him. He coated himself in his steeled anger, hid the hollowness inside and acted as normally as he could.


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