Hey guys. Glad you're still bearing with me, seeing as how it's only just starting to get interesting. Anyway, I just need to explain a little bit about this chapter.
Chapter 17 contains the first of three major events that will; occur in this fic, and all of them are linked. This event means that the next can happen, and so on. Suffice to say that Voldemort will begin to play a much more active role in the story from this point onwards.
I'll keep reviewing if you keep writing.
Oh, and 'Susan': if you're going to wait to review until the end of the fic, you may be waiting a while.
Three hours into his Potions essay, Harry put his head down on the desk.
He'd decided to order the essay as neatly as possible. He'd just fished describing the uses of mane, blood and horn in as many potions as he knew and he was exhausted.
Still... only the entire history of unicorn substances to go, he thought with a yawn.
Harry stood and stretched. His brain felt hot, exposed and vulnerable. His mind felt weak. Deciding he'd better make an appearance at lunch, Harry left his stuff where it was and set out to the Great Hall.
llllllllll
Harry stared when he got to the Great Hall. Admittedly, the decorations had gone up quite late this year, but Harry assumed it was because of Order work or similar.
It became evident that this was not so.
The entire hall was frozen; icicles dripped from the rafters onto the floor, which appeared to be a sheet of ice. Mirrors decorated the walls, framed by pillars of ice. The House tables were gone, and it is place was a reasonably long table near the front of the hall. It was not wooden, but either made of ice or frosted glass.
In the very centre of the hall was a giant ice statue of a phoenix. Harry approached it, and swore he saw something move. He moved closer to the giant sculpture; he was right! Orange and red swirls and sparks danced inside the crystalline structure, forming, regrowing, splitting.
A hand dropped onto his shoulder, and Harry knew it was Hagrid's. No other hand could make his knees buckle and his shoulder sag.
"Hey, Hagrid."
"'Ello, 'Arry. Shall we join 'em?"
Harry followed Hagrid to the strange table, and Hagrid rapped on it. Dumbledore, Snape and McGonagall were already there.
"Crystal, Hagrid," said Dumbledore jovially. "I thought we could do with a break from traditional decorations."
Harry chose to say nothing, seating himself whilst studiously trying to avoid his own reflection. It wasn't that Harry didn't like his reflection. While Draco Malfoy may make claims that Harry had fallen out of the ugly tree, Harry considered it a much better option than what Malfoy had done, which was stay in it. Besides, he was sure he wasn't too bad-looking. Hadn't Cho gone out with him for a while?
He didn't like his own stare. He really hated it. It was bad when other faces accused him; he did not need his own pale face arraigning him. There were other people to do that for him... most of them dead.
Dinner was, for the most part, fairly uneventful. Harry was more or less silent, concentrating on his plate so he had to look at neither anyone else or himself.
Dumbledore, Hagrid and McGonagall chatted earnestly, with a few comments here and there from Snape; how thick the snow was, whether or not any Care of Magical Creatures needed extra attention, that boy who had stayed behind for an extra three days because of that misfortunate accident, those salamanders had an extraordinary temper, my, didn't they just, it was just as well Severus had been cooking a batch of that Pepper-Up potion for those final few students who had suffered so from colds, hmm, wasn't it, Severus?
Snape grunted, and glared at McGonagall. Conversation was not his forte. McGonagall knew this. So why did she bother?
Harry shook his head, and put his knife and fork down as he frowned slightly. He felt hot; not feverish, but getting there. His head hurt in that vague, distanced sort of way you find when you're midway through a serious illness. Colours seemed starker, brighter and more painful to his eyes. Harry closed them for a second to quell the ache, but when he opened them again nothing had changed. His limbs felt tired and leaden; his back and neck felt like someone had been standing on them. His head felt tight, his mind overheated and confused. The air in his throat appeared to have risen several degrees in temperature, and this made it harder for him to breathe. He pushed his plate away from him slightly, losing his appetite. God knows what I could be coming down with... I wonder if there are any wizarding diseases that I'm not immune to?
Hagrid, on Harry's right, appeared to have noticed Harry's behaviour.
"Okay, 'Arry?"
"I -"
Not liking the sound of what was coming out of his vocal chords, Harry cleared his throat and started again.
"I'm not feeling too good. Could - could I leave the table, please?"
Dumbledore nodded, but his face was thoughtful.
Harry slipped from his seat and walked across the Great Hall, feeling jerky and conscious that all the teachers were watching him go.
He felt calmer, but not better, when he entered the Entrance Hall. His joints still felt like they were held together by old rubber bands.
He decided to head back to the Library, pick up his stuff and go back to the dorm. The way he was feeling right now, he wasn't in the mood for any more studying.
He was three corridors away from the Gryffindor Common room when the pain hit him like a 16-wheeled Artic truck.
Harry didn't even have time to stop walking, to clap his hands to his scar, to cry out, to screw up his face. White screamed across his vision and his sight was lost completely to the yellow in his head that was his nerves exploding.
The agony was unbelievable.
Sheer pain filled his skull as his next step hit the floor, his knee crumpling fluidly and dragging the rest of his body down with it. His muscles were completely lax as the white lightning filled his head and Harry lost sense of self, lost the knowledge of himself, lost what it was like not to hurt, what it was like to live, all that filled the universe was whiter whiter pain hurt agony suffering
no this was wrong this was too much the pain in his head white now red now whiteyellow not thoughts but feelings pain has consciousness all of its own
pain hitting the insides of his skull with force enough to lose all sense of self pain so unbelievably intense, yellow white stars burst in front of his vision as his skull filled with acid
all pain no hurt just pain pain pain head felt like it was being filled with sand yellow white red pain make it stop, stop now, please make it stop stop stop -
white white pain pure undiluted concentrated pain as head got heavier filled with universes breached a seal no more sanity no less walls mind open to whim of the stars
Harry's eyes slowly opened as the pain, did not intensify (that would be impossible) but consisted. Staring vacantly at something that didn't exist, Harry's mind gave up all control, and accepted the pain. The agony took over Harry and passed out the other side...
pain so unbelievable so intense like losing a dream when you wake up trying to grip onto the details but they slip away only backwards
Harry blinked his eyes, and the pain stopped like a switch. He stared with surprising focus at the base of the wall opposite him.
He didn't know who he was. He had no concept of 'he'. For a single second, which lasted fully ten minutes to Harry's snail-slow brain, his self-possession was non-existent.
Slowly, details trickled in, like water through a dam. The floor was cold. Cold. He had a body. The floor was hard. Hard. He had a brain. The wall opposite was slimy. Slimy. He had eyes.
He blinked these new-found eyes and, oh so slowly, pushed himself up a little with the palms of his hands, sliding them down the stone floor until he was in a position to raise his torso from the floor and onto his side. Supporting his weight on his hip, the palm of his left hand and his right arm from the elbow to his fingers, the world slowly let slip little details to his brain.
This was the calm after the storm. His body felt strangely smooth and trouble-free.... a bit like plastic.
Harry's mind was completely and truly blank. No thoughts or emotions passed through his head. He blinked, and consciousness slowly crept back in. He blinked again. This seemed to be the key to be regaining control, and something in the back of his head was stirring. It felt like Himself.
Self-perception rose through the mists and calmly slipped back into place in his mind. Harry lay down and leaned his head against the cool stone floor. Every muscle in his body was completely relaxed. The tension he had not realised he'd been carrying in his shoulders was gone. Harry shut his eyes lightly.
Something told him that this could not last. Slowly, lightly, he pushed himself into a sitting position and stood. Everything was calm. Everything was right. Time to go, then. Such islands in life were not meant to exist for long.
He calmly picked up his bag. Every sense was heightened, every perception elevated, and he knew exactly what had just happened.
What's Next: Chapter 18
Snape was thinking as well. He watched the boy, unseeing, pace up and down, and let his own thoughts take control.
The sheer power that had been behind the boy's mind had been phenomenal. Snape knew that it was not force of mind that affected such attacks but pure determination... or an outside force...? And Snape thought, for a second, that maybe Potter had been trying to show him something, trying to make him see something subconsciously. Snape had no idea what in Gods' name it could have been. What did the Golden Boy have to show Snape, or even hide from him, that could be so important?
one small instrument: Hmm. We may have ourselves an intellectual here. Interesting.
You do, at least, appear more intelligent that the average bear, which is always a good thing in a reviewer, despite your apparent fear of capital letters.
Originally, it would be the whole fic in Snape's place, but I got bloody sick of that as well. I'm extraordinarily glad that I was writing this at least four months before I began posting it... the story plot has undergone so many different changes, I can't remember what the original storyline was. It had something to do with red books, I think.
Yes, anyway, I rewrote a fair chunk of it to the dorms. Looking back, the dig at Snape by Harry seems a bit childish and I kind of wish I hadn't written it, but it gelled the end of that scene to the next one.
'Both of the main characters play with their cards close to the vest'. Excellently put. I never really thought of it that way, but it seems to ring true enough.
People ask me to keep updating. I'm asking you to keep reviewing.
Cheers, too.
Sapphire Starlet: Hi there.
'Of it actually being funny'? Yes people keep saying this, but no-one ever points out the funny bits. I just don't get where it's amusing. Either it's intentional at a subconscious level, or my somewhat overly-cynical brain is found highly entertaining. Whatever.
Snape is easy to provoke, and that's good. It makes digs easier... 'sonny jim' indeed.
Yes, the sixth year dorms does belong to him, but he wanted the common room. Let me put it this way: if you were Harry, would you like to come downstairs and catch Severus Snape changing his clothing? I really don't think that, from Harry's perspective, he would particularly enjoy that.
leggylover03: In the words of Banksy (very famous London graffiti artist whose work has inspired many) I love ironies unless they're real. The ultimate irony... getting run over by an ambulance. Snigger.
shelly101: Yayyyy!!!
ShadowedHand: I'm glad that Harry has at least begun to fight back, in your opinion. I am not overly fond of very angry Harrys or pathetic Harrys... I'm glad I appear to have the right balance.
Kalorna Enera: Well, I'm glad that joke made someone happy, because it certainly didn't for me. I thought it was a bit too... you know, obvious, but it seems to have gone down well, so what the hell.
I'm dithering with the idea of putting a bit in a later chapter where Snape goes absolutely mental, just because of how funny I could make it, but there seems to have been no room for it... yet.
Myself and some of my friends have often discussed how it is unfair that New York gets snow like, every year, when it's my country that is usually rumoured to be the most dismal place for weather (possibly except Moscow) in the whole world. Growls.
duj: Thanks.
sphinx12: Yeah, I included that little peek at chapter 17 for several reasons. Firstly, I was afraid I was losing readers due to lack of action, so something was needed to keep 'em reading. Secondly, to emphasise this fact: there will be three, that's three, 3, tres, etc, major events in this fic, and this is the first.
ORSON SCOTT CARD... yay... seriously, though I totally ripped his style off to write this fic. Ah well. Whatchagonnado.
Vendethiel: Most definitely.
A. Person: language arts... sounds fun... I've never heard of it. Schooling in America and in England is sooo different, don't you think? I'll keep an eye out for the book. I can probably order it from my library.
Sorry I haven't been in touch as much as I should. I have my mock exams coming up in about a week (as I write this). In England, we have a set of MAJOR exams at the end of year eleven (I don't know what the equivalent is in America - we're a big bunch of 15-16 year olds.) called GCSEs which decide what courses we can take for things like College and University. We have a set of mock exams in November-December which decide which papers we take - higher (hard) or foundation (easier - although the max grade is only a C as opposed to A) and they are quite major. At the moment I'm revising hard for them, so updating is going to be interesting.
Read300300: Yeah, pretty much... I am totally wincing even as I read this. My friend Natalie has to have root canal as well, and the description of what it contained sounded nasty. Anyway... getting shot by a BB gun cannot be fun, and I understand this is a gross understatement. Let me just say that I hope you're feeling better real, real soon. : )
And as far as pain goes, I think you're the one that's awesome for being able to handle a shot in the mouth by a BB gun.
Yep, still wincing.
forty-two dreams: You make my story sound dull and monologue-ic, which is was. Ten points for observation. This is the first of three major events that will happen... and trust me, they're worth reading.
sakura saisaka: Dancing around a computer whilst onlookers stare in confusion and cotempt? Yeah, it's fun, isn't it?
espergirl04: "Battalions of riot police with rubber-bullet kisses, baton courtesy, service with a smile!" System are like... so... yeah. I got crushed last year at Leeds Festival when I saw them live. It was quite painful, but I wouldn't have missed it for the world.
Bob Marley's okay, I'll grant you that. Jimi Hendrix rocks, Lenard Skynard is cool and Stevie Wonder is totally out there.
Chop Suey is the REASON I started listening to System in the first place. I haven't seen the video (curses wildly)... yet.
Nah, Snape ain't sentimental, just paranoid.
FUBBAR: Thanks, Danni. 'out of character'. Snape's human, live with it.
Chip: Yay. There will be much more Snapeiness, him being best character EVER, obviously.