Okay, this is a warning: I may not be able to update for quite a while... maybe not until April. I will, however, make an effort to updata within the next two weeks, so keep an eye out, just in case.
Also, I'm working on extending the chapters.
Keep reading!
There had been pain. Pain had indeed followed, caught up with him and ground his head into the gutter.
Harry waited until he could be sure he was alone. The crackk of disapparating Death Eaters is not a comfort until you are sure that there are none left that are not... restricted by their overlord's wishes.
An eye cracked open and blurrily regarded its environment. Nothing to suggest the darkness of a Death Eater's robes.
Perhaps it was the 'munchkin' that had tipped them over the edge, if not the hurling of the crutch at someone. Harry had sort of let his mouth carry on when his brain had decided what to do, and the rhythm of the sentence had demanded something snappy.
I've resorted to Wizard of Oz references when in a tight corner. If I should live, please let God purge all such insults from my mind. It's not becoming.
Harry could see everything starkly, and his thinking was quite clear. This was not reassuring. It was as if every one of his senses had decided that they didn't have much more operating time, so they would record everything as lucidly as possible...
Harry, lying on the ground, took as much of an inventory as he dared. His legs were... yes, both broken, as were about... fine ouch ouch ouch ouch, fine fine fine fine fine... four of his fingers. Something had gone viciously wrong with one shoulder but it didn't seem too bad. His nerve endings hummed with the old memories of pain cast by many a Cruciatus and other unknown curses. Harry opened the other eye and peered through fuzzy eyes. Where were his glasses when he needed them?
The thumb and fingers of his right hand were miraculously unbroken, and they inched around the snow on an excruciating arm until he found something that might have resembled his glasses. Pulling them toward his face, his tired fingers pushed the lenses onto his face.
Everything came a little bit more into focus. Only a little, because the blood smearing the glass obscured his vision. Glancing at his fingers, he noted that he had appeared to have lost the top of his little finger from the top joint upwards. Shit happened. Harry tried not to speculate on the rest of his body with varying degrees of success.
Harry was also aware of the cold. The poisonous cold.
The centre of the town was in ruins... several small fires feasted on the remains of the plant life. Buildings had been demolished, and everything was deathly silent. The only thing needed to complete the image would be a few tribal spears sticking out of bodies -
Tribes? What made him think of tribes?
... Death Eaters.
Harry twisted his agonisingly painful neck a little, and saw the Dark Mark hovering in the night sky.
Hadn't he forgotten something?
What was it?
... oh yes. Breathing.
A lungful of cold air whooshed into Harry's lungs, and he coughed out a little blood.
His mind drifted for a moment, and for some unknown reason, settled firmly on lemon meringue pie. Lemon merang pie. Lemming merang pie. Are there lemmings in lemming merang pie?
He forced his mind to focus on the snow, and back to the present. He needed shelter. There was storm coming. He'd recognise those ominously purple clouds anywhere.
Three trees stood. Stood by themselves, their peers having taken the worst of the assault. Their bottom branches overlapped, forming a shelter from the already-falling snow.
Harry reached out his good hand and laboriously propped himself up onto his elbow. The shelter was beginning to look good, if far away. A whole fifteen meters or so.
His hand reached out in front of him found a grip in blasted rock and pulled him forward. His legs screamed in defiant protest, but shelter was more important than the pain now. Harry felt tiny flakes settling in his hair and on his skin. He needed to reach that shelter.
He focused all his being on that single hand reaching out and pulling, reaching out and pulling. His vision swam but Harry was proficient in these seas. He needed to stay conscious, above all things.
Boy, these had been an eventful few days.
Ten meters.
Seven.
Six-and-a-half.
Five n' a bit.
Four annd...
Harry did eventually reach the copse of trees, regardless of the two hours it look him to inch his way over the snow.
llllllllll
Harry lay prostrate beneath the branches of the trees panting with a harsh sound like sandpaper over rough stone.
Everything was a lot fuzzier now, and Harry saw no reason to keep his eyes open. His previous detachment from his worldly aches had evaporated somewhere along the route to this hard-won shelter. The feel of broken legs grinding over smashed rock does that to a person. Thank God the snow had acted as a kind of lubricant. He may have never made it otherwise.
His left hand was a ball of pain. His legs were no longer providing sensations for his brain to feel, which was something of a mercy and something of a worry. The cold was creeping in around the fringes of his body, but it was a blessing. Less feeling, less pain.
The snow was settling quite firmly. There was white roof above him. There was no sense of claustrophobia, just an exhausted feeling of security. He shut his eyes and drifted.
llllllllll
Visions of friends, family and loved ones danced through his chilled brain.
Maybe I'll see them again.
Harry was having to concentrate on every breath, just in case he forgot to take another. It was entirely possible. Breathing had ceased to be an unconscious action.
There was a lot of commotion outside. Harry wished it would go away. It was disturbing his concentration. He kept an ear on the noise, however. It was a pleasant distraction from his brain.
There was a sudden lull in the commotion, then the voices rose a lot higher. Footsteps thudded on the ground all around him, making the packed earth vibrate a little, but Harry wasn't too bothered. There would have been another time when this would have been important. That did not matter. What did was the sole world around his consciousness which kept himself together; held his fragile mind whole and reminded him to breathe from time to time.
The idea of giving up was becoming more and more appealing. He was simply running out of the energy that kept his lungs going. He was getting bored of forcing his chest in and out, in and out. There was no one else to make this decision. This was just raw, ore-like emotion in its quality.
He was encased in a pleasant, warm shell of snow. Some form of light was shining through its substance, producing a comfortable, incandescent kind of light. The vibrations from footfalls shook the ground about Harry, but he took it all in his stride - well, his crawl. He let his mind blank out a little.
The effort of keeping his lungs going was becoming an intolerable burden, but some force of will... some
(elastic band that propelled him)
thing kept him going. He didn't know for how much longer it would hold out...
His mind was wandering all over the place; it was like a drunken rambler on a tightrope. He wasn't quite sure how his mind managed to stay on track, but there sure as hell was a lot of wobbling.
He was contemplating the wonders of the colour green and how it applied to such things as the Spanish language when brash light, harsh and painful, flooded his little cave. Harry squinted until something came and blocked the light out, bringing with it unpleasantly cool darkness.
Harry squinted into Snape's face.
"Well... guess we're even,"he mumbled. The next thing he knew were arms picking him up without regard to his injuries.
"Ouch,"he supplied, right before his lungs packed in, his mind gave up and his vision settled into a bottomless pool of clear liquid dark.
llllllllll
Two sets of footsteps sounded along a stone corridor. One of them sounded lopsided and strangely like their owner had three legs.
"Has he woken yet?"
"No. Not a sound from him. What time is it?"
"Auh... about two in the morning."
There was some silence.
"I mean, what were the chances?" exploded one of the voices. "I mean, come on. First time he sets foot in Hogsmeade and the entire army of Death Eaters descends on his head!"
"He's got a link with the Dark Lord. Maybe it was a subconscious agreement. Maybe they weren't expecting each other. Maybe the Dark Lord seriously did not believe that Potter would be insane enough to venture publicly so soon after the encounter."
"I never, ever, in my wildest dreams thought I'd say this, Severus, but I most certaintly have to agree with You-Know-Who on that one. Is this the entrance -"
"Yes, yes. Come on, open the door."
"Ye gods, this castle hasn't changed a bit."
"Stop staring and start moving."
"No need to be so snappy, Severus."
"It's Professor Snape to you."
"Ye gods -"
"Quite into the oaths tonight, aren't we?"
"- are you still harbouring that old grudge? And stop glaring at me. It was a half-way civil question."
"Indeed."
"The boy's lost his parents, his godfather and one of his friends who, may I add, has been through a lot with him. Now he finds out that a chunk of Hogsmeade has been slaughtered and that it's all his fault. He was beaten to within an inch of his life and past it, thank God for St. Mungo's, and now all you can think of is a grudge? You know, Sirius and you had a lot in common."
"I don't know why I'm even listening to you."
"You're both arrogant, pig-headed, stubborn, hateful, and you both think that Harry is his father!"
"May I remind you that the mutt-face is dead."
Therewas a very long silence. The owner of the snarky voice appeared to know he had stepped over some proverbial line, but refused to apologise.
"That's a bit rich, Snivellus, coming from a Death Eater, a traitor and a spineless twat."
"At least I don't try to rip people's throats out once a month. Tell me, did it annoy your mother when you did it at the table?"
"Oh, no, you do it all the time. Had any cases of permanent psychological scarring after one of your atrocious lessons?"
"I certainly hope so. One should always leave a lasting impression."
"On a child's psyche." The voice is flat and disbelieving. "You know, Neville Longbottom is a regular here for Calming Draughts. Perhaps if you taught with a little more... decorum, you do know that gothic dungeons are so last century?"
"Oh, yeah? Let's see you do better, teaching a classful of dunderheads -"
"Oh, you forget, Severus, I already have, and every single one of them passed their end of year exams with at least an 'A'. I could say more for your class... and it was exactly the same one. You are hopeless, always have been hopeless and always will be. Oh, grow up and put that wand away."
There was a long silence, filled with mutual enmity. Deciding there is nothing more to be said the three-legged figure pushes the door open to the Hospital Wing.
Severus Snape stepped through the door and let Remus Lupin close it behind him. It was totally black in the room save a thin sliver of moonlight coming in through the thick curtains.
"Can we risk the lights?"
"It won't harm him."
Lupin muttered a spell, and a warmish light faded into a glass globe above Harry's bed.
Lupin stepped back with a muffled cry. Snape remained as impassive as ever... and only the darkening of his eyes betrayed any kind of emotion.
Daubed onto the wall above his bed in black ink were words... huge words, four feet tall.
IM SCARED I'LL DIE IF I LET GO
"Dear God," whispered Lupin, tired eyes wide. "Dear God, Lord above, sweet merciful Jesus..."
Potter himself was huddled into a foetal position on the bed as though he were sleeping. His hands were stained with blank ink, and the remnants of a smashed bottle could be seen lying on the stone floor. Snape surveyed the scene with oddly glittering eyes, and then turned to Lupin.
"Where's Albus?"
"I don't know... he said he had to go to the Ministry tonight... Hogsmeade and all, but that's why I'm here. He didn't want to leave Harry on his own. I tried to get here sooner, but..."
"You're babbling, save it. Are the healers still here?"
"Yes."
"Get them to clear up this mess."
But they stood for a minute, in quiet contemplation of the scene before them.
"Do you think he woke?" asked Lupin in low voice.
"I've no idea," said Snape in an equal tone. "It's a fifty-fifty chance. Where did he get the ink from?"
"God only knows. Maybe he had it in his robes or something..."
They both looked at the folded black robes underneath the bed, and this appeared to galvanise them.
"Severus?"
"What."
There was a pause. "It's kind of ironic."
"Get to the point."
"You're the only adult he really knows at this school..."
"Don't even go there, Remus. I'm warning you."
"Yes, yes, I'd gathered. Still..."
Angel Baby: Hey there.
1) No, my bio is up-to-date and my birthday is not for some months. Fifteeney I
am. It is good fun, I must confess, teenagering and whatnot... Leeds festival
this year, bring on the mosh pits...
2) I'm glad you liked WSAHC, nobody seems to reviewing that or Conscienceness
anymore. Probably because they haven't/won't be updated.
3) Wow, I'm impressed. EVERYTHING I've written? -blushblushblush-.
4) I want to wrire professionally eventually, when I get me an idea for an
original fic that isn't, well, crap. It'll be reasonably dark, methinks.
Well, I'm updating as fast as I can. Stay in touch!
saiyanwizardgurl: I like scary... ; )
Strega: I've always found it interesting that Voldemort was a very powerful
wizard... and half-blood. Perhaps the mixing of the bloods produces the best
magical response? Add a little mental choas into the mix, and dearest Voldemort
may have met his match in Hary Potter. Hmm... -strokes chin thoughfully-
Working on their length as I write, actually... I find short chapters in
other authors annoying, I don't see why I shold be a hypocrite. ; )
LyonsRoar: It's an idea I¹ve had kicking around for a long time... an energy
that everybody has, but only a few can bring to the surface. I melted it into
Harry's character for this fic. The idea of a sequel has been kicking around my
hindbrain for a little while... it may feature in that, IF it ever gets
written... it probably won't, but there you go.
SheWolfe7: Yes, I was suffering from the effects of a rampant imagination at tha
point, and I let it drive for a change. You'll find out what Harry found so
funny a little later on in the story.
Saphire Starlet:
1) I always find it slightly dazing ewhen someone thnks I've nailed a particular
character, because I usually end up looking at what I've written in mild
disgust. My best stuff is all one-shots, like Shards and Conscienceness. Still,
it seems to be okay to read. : )
2) I think you'll find in this chapter that the Death Eaters deal out a lot more
to Harry than he actually wants, but you'll have read that by now... forgive me,
I¹m writing this before I post the next chapter. : )
Sanity Stealer Penguin: Oh, I mean, wow. I am TOTALLY loving your name here. I
have a giant poster on my window which says 'ONE BY ONE THE PENGUINS STEAL MY SANITY' and I made it myself... it's one of my favorites. Your namey thing
conjures happy memories. : )
Quillian: Hey, kraeg100... yes, I remember you... you gave me some quite
complementary reviews. : ) And you don't have to review all the chapters...
frankly, it would be too much effort, and as I am a bit of a lazy person, I
wouldn't wish the extra effort on anyone. ; )
Menecarkawan: It's not the end, and you'll see Snape pretty soon.
I¹m not actually a Creed fan. I haven't heard ANY of their music, I just
remember someone quoting them at a friend's party and thinking "NyaHA! That
sounds very cool for a chapter. Hmmm..."
Sorry about that. : P
Tamyka: Hey there. No, I won't kill Harry. That would ruin the fun. (Although
there are some stories kicking around in which it couldn't end any other way.)
shelly101: Weird is good. - P
starinthedark11: I think it was a fair amount OOC, but as it seemed to go down
well... thanks for reviewing!
KrazeyForever: Dude, prioritise. Grandma surgery ranks WAY above fanfiction. I
hope she's okay. : s
I have this thing, I like seeing Harry in dire situations just so I can figure
out his reaction. It's bizarre and probably sadistic, but it's fun. ; )
Breanna Senese: It was Snape's choice to serve Voldy, I guess. Still, I wouldn¹t
be happy about it either.
Midgette: It does surprise the majority of my American/Candian/Foreign readers
that I am English. Funnily enough, they never pick up on my spelling of' 'colour'
or 'pyjama', but there you go. ; )
As for your attention span... it¹s amazing how far you can stretch a metaphor,
isn't it?
A. Person: 'Jack Off Jill'? Oo-er. Will keep an eye out.
Asiea: He is calm because he's, er, in shock. To tell you the truth, this story
tends to run away with me in a sack so I never really can tell what's going on.
fhippogriff: Not quite insane... although how can you define 'insane' in a world
where carpets fly, you can talk to snakes, and furniture has a mind of its own?
seastones88: Everybody's mad in their own little way... mine happens to be crazy
story plots. ; )
Kalorna Enera: Hey there Kalorna.
My favorite conversations are between enemies... they're so much funnier,
especially when you get down to the sarcasm... there's a good one between Lupin
and Snape coming up... or did I post it in this chapter? I forget... forgive me,
I'm writing this before I post my next chapter.
The way the plot works is because I had the whole thing mentally planned out
from the beginning (if I write it down I lose interest), and I am simply
thinking my way along the line as paceably as possible... and judging from your
response, it seems to be doing quite well.
And that 'munchkin' thing? I nearly took it out. As far as OOC goes, it tops the
chart, don¹t you think?
Vendethiel: Cynical Harry is my favorite, which is why I wrote one of my other
fics, Shards. That's distilled cynicism, to a point.
E.A.V: Groovy! Thanks.
Read300300: Hmmm, I'm very unsure about the 'munchkin' thing... I'm thinking
about reposting the chapter in order to get rid of it.
TeahLeafs: Hey there.
The idea for the Death Eaters psychoanalysis came from my thinking about them
more as a cult... and someone like Lucious Malfoy wouldn't attempt to seize
control. You wouldn't put it past him, really.
I don't really read Sirius angst, but I'll keep an eye out for you. : )
Dee: Glad you like it. Don't worry, there is more more more. And I'm working on
extending the chapters.
PanicParables: Fiction of the month? Er, wow! Thanks.
Chris: It¹s ma'am, not sir. ; )
I hate the Dursleys... not just who they are, but the characters themselves. I
find them dull, so this fic started at the beginning of the Christmas holidays.
SnarkyElly:
1)"...makes not sense."
2)"because as it is, it's painful whenever you mention it again."
Ever think about following your own advice?
SaphirePhoenix: Yep, and more to come.
sakura saiasaka: People tend to get bored of my philosophising... I'm glad you
don't. : )
Thranx: Good good. Thanks!
MollyTheWanderer: I keep getting horribly paranoid that this fic isn't turning
out the way I want it to, so it's good to know I'm doing something right. : )
Shading in Grey: The irony doo-dah thing becomes a lot clearer later on... if I
told you now, it'd ruin it a bit.
Erinamation-limited2-nothing: Cool.