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Sleepless
by a true Elsewhere and Mizu
shell@wishing-blue.net, tokiya_ensui@yahoo.com
Chapter 1: The Boy Who Played Sleeping Beauty
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It had been awhile since he had seen the light; that bright existence that was always present in the atmosphere as if it were the most important thing in the world. But it wasn't as glorifying for him as he found it difficult to get used to. After being in a world of shadow forms and dim grayness, the light felt very blinding to him.
He woke up a few days ago, shortly before one of Hagrid's seasonal visitations. Harry had been struggling to focus his eyes to get a glimpse his surroundings. It was when he discovered that the reason why the world seemed blurry must have been because he didn't have his glasses on. Harry was groping around for his glasses when Hagrid had walked in and roared out loudly in surprise—loud enough to shake the room and send paint chips flying to the ground. Soon after, a gaggle of doctors and nurses entered the room, locking the giant man out, and began to poke and prod at Harry. They still did that though, surprised at his ability to withstand the deadly poison that had entered his system.
He hated the doctors. They were always picking at him and running tests as if they knew what they were looking for. But annoying as the doctors were, the people that annoyed him the most were the reporters who somehow managed to sneak into his room at St. Mungos. "How did you survive getting bitten by a Basilisk?" They would ask him, their quick quills ready to jot down anything he said. Harry would always shrug; he himself didn't know the reason why he was able to survive a bite by that overgrown snake he confronted at the end of his second year at Hogwarts. He only recalled telling Ginny Weasley to hurry and get out of the sewers with Ron, but nothing more as he slipped away into the icy depths of limbo.
But Harry knew it was because of him that he continued to exist.
Sweet irony, Harry thought bitterly. The one person who would try to kill him would be the same person who would be his salvation. When poison coursed through his veins and tainted his blood, the person who wanted him dead the most was the one who saved him from the hands of death. He recalled the precise moment when life seemed to end for him. He also remembered the precise moment when he pulled him back from that doom.
He didn't know how important you are to me, the voice had explained to Harry about his younger self who had set the deadly basilisk on him. You are very important to me…
He looked down at his hands and wiggled his fingers. They certainly seemed a little larger than before he fell into the coma. He pulled out a hand mirror from the night table drawer next to him. Peering cautiously at the mirror, he tried to coax his moppy hair to lie flat, but it stubbornly stayed tousled in spiky clumps.
"Someone slept in," his reflection said wryly, raising a condescending eyebrow at him. "Now you'll never get that hair of ours down."
Harry scrunched up his nose and said, "It never did behave. You and I know that by now." He heard his reflection give one loud 'hmph!' before he placed the mirror back in the drawer. He had been looking at his reflection every day since his awakening. He looked at his reflection, desperate to see if there was any change in his features, but found none. Albeit, he looked a couple years older, but he was still a skinny, scraggly youth making his way through puberty with a lightning scar on his forehead.
"Harry!" Hagrid roared, bearing a big, familiar smile on his face. Apparently he managed to shove his way through seven doctors who were comparing notes by the door. They looked slightly bewildered, lying on the ground with their glasses askew.
"Harry, how d'yeh feel?" Hagrid asked, touching his shoulder as gently as he could. Harry flinched at the contact of Hagrid's hand upon his body. Hagrid didn't notice.
Perhaps it was because Harry had been away from civilization for such a long time. Human touch just didn't seem…natural anymore. Perhaps it was because that the touch of another was now too foreign to him. Perhaps it was because the only thing that came in contact with him other then his bed and sheets were the sterile metal wands that doctors poked at him.
"Okay, I guess," Harry said finally, pushing his glasses up his nose. He slid off the bed easily, landing on the cold floor with a soft thud. Hagrid reached to catch him, knocking a sickly looking Venus flytrap from the hospital gift shop from the bedside table. The Venus flytrap wriggled on the ground, lifting its head up with a desperate attempt to sit upright in its tiny pot. Harry returned the Venus flytrap back onto the table, to its relief.
"It's all right, Hagrid. I'm not made of glass, you know," Harry said a little too coldly, not bothering to look over his shoulder at Hagrid. Hagrid seemed oblivious to the chill in Harry's voice and smiled sheepishly into his bushy beard. "Jus' makin' sure yeh're alright roun' the edges. I'm askin' if I can take yeh home now. Merlin's Beard! I've got stories for yeh on th' way back!" Hagrid started walking toward the doctors who were already filing out of the room, tending to some of the bruises Hagrid accidentally inflicted them when he sent them flying into the air.
The word home dragged Harry's thoughts back to reality. And, for a moment, Harry was horrified. "Wait! Hagrid!"
Hagrid turned around, skeptical, but still smiling that familiar smile Harry found oddly comforting.
"I…don't want to go back to the Dursleys," Harry said very slowly, quietly. He picked up the pace. "Hagrid, there's two weeks before class starts again. Can't I…Can't I stay at Hogwarts? Or with you? I promise I won't break anything." He knew he sounded desperate, and hated himself for it.
Hagrid looked thoughtful for a moment before he said, "Well, it's against school rules…" His eyes twinkled as he gave Harry another grin. "But when did Harry Potter ever keep school rules in th' first place? I'll see what I can do for yeh."
Relief washed through Harry as the edge of his mouth twitched. He wanted to smile, truly, but for some reason the action felt unfamiliar to him. Perhaps his muscles were still lax from the coma. "Thank you," he said politely, remembering basic etiquette.
Hagrid left to speak to a doctor, leaving Harry alone for a while. It was as if a great weight had lifted from his shoulders. Upon his awakening, the doctors who came in to examine him treated him as if his recovery was a medical miracle. Harry didn't know what to say to that; he already had enough of being 'The Boy That Lived.' Surviving basilisk poison couldn't help but sustain that title.
The media wasn't helping that either. The day before, he had picked up a copy of Daily Prophet and couldn't figure out what shocked him more—the date or the headline that read "The Boy Who Played Sleeping Beauty Wakes Up!" Underneath was a picture of him looking thoroughly disoriented at all the flashing cameras around him.
With the arrival of doctors and reporters, Harry's contact with unfamiliar faces put him on edge. He thought that perhaps a familiar face would help him ease into the wizarding society again. Unfortunately, to Harry's distaste, he was wrong. Hagrid's visitation felt equally, if not more, tense.
Harry glanced up to see Hagrid peering over his shoulder. In his massive hand, he held what seemed to be a suitcase.
"I've got yeh all packed an' ready ter go," he said cheerfully, as if they were about to embark on an extended trek through a dragon den. Harry smiled weakly. The act itself pulled at long-unused muscles painfully.
Harry began looking for a suitable pair of pants and shoes to wear from the suitcase Hagrid brought to him. Trudging into the bathroom, he took one glance at Hagrid, who gave him another cheerful grin.
"Hurry up! I'm goin' ter take yeh home."
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They traveled to Hogwarts using floo powder. Harry wasn't too keen on floo powder very much, recalling the last trip through the floo network landed him in a shady area of Diagon Alley. Thus, as he stood in front the overlarge fireplace in the hospital common room, he wondered why they couldn't fly their way to Hogwarts instead. Flying was something he was always good at.
Hagrid replied with a quick "no", telling him that it was too risky and unsafe for him to fly. Harry attempted to convince Hagrid that he was in sound physical health. Hagrid responded that the journey was too long to spend flying and that they were going to go to Hogwarts through floo powder.
An entourage of people had gathered around him, trying to look inconspicuous by having animated conversations with one another. Harry picked up a handful of floo powder from a brass pot on a stand next to the fireplace. He could hear the people around him whisper, gossiping as they decided to outright stare at him instead. Harry sighed, wanting to get this floo powder business over with.
Hagrid nodded at Harry once, indicating that he should leave first. Harry threw his fistful of powder into the crackling fire, watching it as the flames instantly turned a bright, floo-green color. He stepped into the fireplace, wishing very much that he was on a broom instead.
He took a deep breath, expecting himself to land somewhere in Egypt. "Hogwarts!"
The next thing he knew, Harry was flying out of a fireplace at Hogwarts. He fell to the stone ground, and bodily rolled down the floor until he made a complete stop in front of velvet curtains.
"Too much floo powder," he grimaced, bracing himself with sooty hands. He peered up into twinkling eyes through half-moon spectacles, and a white beard that could have been used as a winter scarf.
"Hello Harry. It's been a while."
