Chapter 11
The laughter resounded in his mind during breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Even with the Christmas joy, it only served to further disturb him.
He even asked himself if he truly were going insane, for this maniacal and evil laughter was a surfeit of hearing anything is mind. The laughter reminded him of someone…yet he could not place the recognition, it seemed that the laughter served the purpose to elude the memory of the voice from some other time.
Frustrating Harry further more, he laid in his bed and tried to read, but still the throbbing headache would not leave. It felt as if he couldn't function beyond moving slightly. At times he would yell as his scream would overcome the hideous laughter that clouded his tortured mind.
He barely realized that night had fallen as he finally passed out from sheer exhaustion.
This was the miserable contents of Harry's day, yet his behaviour was not unnoticed by the rest of the occupants of the house, especially one Draco Malfoy.
Yet, he could not recall anything that had occurred to distress Harry so, it seemed disturbingly familiar to the "other" Harry. The silent, and perturbed Harry whose mentality had been seriously unhinged, the one who would smile vacantly at you yet seemingly not really being there. The Harry who would hurt himself as if the lines of blood could make him pure instead of leaving him in the Hospital Ward for days on end.
Still, that Harry had never been so pale and angry seemingly at nothing. Draco passed by his room and heard the yells, "Stop you horrid fiend!" or "What do you want from me!" and "Stop Laughing", at that Draco became as pale as Harry had been earlier. Who was laughing? Had Harry lost it again? What horrible monsters could be lurking behind those pained emerald eyes?
Suprisingly, Harry managed to get to lunch and dinner, almost mechanically willing himself to act "normal" or as normal as possible in his state. Even his parents noticed the sudden rather violent tremors that passed through Harry. Regardless of the five plates of food that were left on the floor.
Had this not happened, the extensively determined and focused face would have still confused the Malfoys. Draco knew that expression as the "Potions" expression, since he was only so concentrated in that class, and never anywhere else so openly.
To say the least, they were all more than a bit concerned for their eccentric guests. And as any kindred host would, they tried to question the boy. But almost as quickly as the fits came, they left him without a trace and a calm, confident child was left in his place. He would softly excuse himself, and after finishing what he could of his meal he would leave the table and go to his room.
Thus, Narcissia and Lucius had but three chances to actually attempt to pick apart the boy's distress. His door was impenetrably locked and only when he walked of the room would they but glimpse of the disaster inside. They caught a breath's glance of several books strewn on the floor half opened, other closed. Papers littered the floor as well as the bed with writing.
If Harry was at all aware of their attempts or of his own behavior, he kept it to himself. What had gone wrong with the Boy Wonder?
The "Thing" laughed silently-to himself, for in the dusky corner of the ceiling. Fools-all of them- in thinking that he could not find his delectable prey. The broken mind of the Boy-Who-Had-Yet-To-Die, was his for the taking, and no one-not even Harry Potter himself- could stop him.
It was a bleak and dreary Christmas eve that came upon the Malfoy household that night. Still no one slept well at all. There was, though, one little boy walking around the halls-or rather, under them.
The "Thing" had to be stopped, Draco had to find a way to force that horrid monster out of the house for awhile, and of course, he needed help.
He stopped in front of beautiful portrait of a starry sky in the midst of full moonlit night. He cautiously opened the portrait door and stepped in.
A lady stood before him on a lake's edge, in the same landscape of the painting he had just walked through. She turned her head slightly, and looked at him for a moment, before smiling softly at him. He returned the gesture, yet grimaced from the worry that burdened him and finally had caught up to him at that moment.
"Well my child, thou furrowed brow relates of a great trouble that lies ahead of us; is this not so?" she asked plaintatively, as she walked away from the water and towards him as a gliding swan borne upon the silky liquid.
"Yes my lady, it is, I fear the Child once more, the "Thi-"Oh do call it by it's true name, you are giving him power in forsaking it's true identity." She said distantly as if one were merely swatting a fly and not talking about the great evil tide upon them. "Yes well, He is tyring to use the Child's mind again, even my parents noticed." He said plainly, waiting for a reply of wisdom.
"The real question is, has he found the book?" She said almost to herself in a soft murmer. "No, or I think we would not be speaking of it at all, that beast would have returned and used it already. Thou knowst how all evil acts all the same. No I feel that he hasn't found it –yet. Though the Child seems powerless to the devices of that monster, I came to ask a word of guidance." Draco finished finally.
"What is there to be said, that has not been said before?" She asked rhetorically, " The man-child must fight this alone, we cannot sacrifice the vow for a vain purpose. He must either win or die in defeat at the end of this time. For then were he to win, he must return and commence the quest." She said.
It boded little hope in Draco's mind. Waiting was insufferable in a time like this, so much was at stake, how could anyone leave it in the hands of that boy was beyond him. Yet, Draco could not contest the Lady's final word on the matter, she was correct in saying that they could not risk that He should learn their true identities, neither could Harry know of his true self until he returned, if he did at all.
At times such as these, Draco oft wished that Harry's plight be little than mere insanity.
Christmas Day.
Cast me gently
Into morning
For the night has been unkind
The laughter was softly receding from Harry's tired mind. The final ounce of strength left him, though he had been sleeping the monster left after sparring his memorys to find…something…a book of some sort.
Harry couldn't think of any vitally important book in his possession. He felt like a crippled old man, who wanted to lie in rest forevermore, yet knew that battle had merely begun.
And many miles before I sleep
And many miles before I sleep.
It was, however, a bright and cheerful morning and the brilliant sunshine seem to hand over to him some of the radiant happiness. Which was desperately needed for the poor boy, yet never truly admitted.
He would have thought of what day it could be for, it seemed like an age and an eternity since he had his own solitary silence. But it was not meant to be for, in came the forever morning happy Draco , pouncing on his bed and screaming delightfully "Happy Christmas!". And Harry wearily could not but grimace a smile in his gesture; for on the falling snow the memories fell into his mind and left as the joyous standard entered him like the tides of the rolling waves.
Nonetheless, he joined the merry festivities in the living hall and the large expansive tree, like a giantess of another hopeful spire, stood brightly in the warm baby sunshine. The silence was a gaping hole in the universe as if the spirits flitted across the width of the room for the instant afore the daylight reality.
Harry could the see the hill of presents gleaming in precocious innocence to be opened and treasured, or discarded as the owner wished to their own fancy. Harry could not recall ever holding such a symbolic relic as a present, the unmitigated joy that suffused the person upon opening such a mysterious token of appreciation.
But still, he had his own hoard of presents there in midst of the throng of wrapped boxes. He dared himself to at least acknowledge them. Reading the label on each thrice to a fourth time, before realizing it truly had been marked for him alone. Thus picking one up he stared at as the lost sailor upon the desired isle of no claim save his own.
Draco silently stared at the enraptured boy, with a mischievous gleam in his eyes dancing with a profound knowledge not privy to the selection of the time. He merely sat aside as the mesmorized boy rolled into the reality of a gift. His parents had yet to wake and watch the traditional rip and tear of countless presents; wrecked from their untainted glory.
Save for this one precious moment, he would not awaken them to wait to open the presents as usual. Harry unaware of all of this, slowly and cautiously opened the wrapped item. The small flaps at the end and gradually, through the body of the gift and finally revealing a plain box.
It contained none of the usual notes of well wishing thoughts and obviously the person whom imparted the gift. The plainly white and closed rectangular box layed in the crevice of the unwrapped paper on the floor before the bespectacled boy.
Slightly trembling, the apprehensive boy grasped the sides gently and lifted the cover of the plainly adorned box. Inside the Box, revealed itself a black, golden enscribed book of a hefty weight and generous content.
The boy felt the blood fall from his face, from his body as if the gravity of all the world had suddenly disappeared from beneath him. His slight trembling, increased into a dervish shudder.
The dream of some prophetic realm relinquished itself on Harry's mind like that of a cold shock of the bitter winter ice would assail the oblivious person as they stepped outside to the frozen atmosphere, unprotected by the requited material.
Finally the instinctive disbelief invaded him as he sharply turned to where the blonde enigma of a child sat curiously staring at the contents of his own box; seemingly ignoring any of the attentions of the other boy.
Harry let the cover drop and dreadful reality of the book in his presence fell into place. He could not touch the gift, the accursed artifact of a dream. A dream could it have been merely that? Had he not suffered the obstinate presence of a mysterious villan who conspicioulsy laughed and whispered thoughts into his mind? Yet the mere presence of the book inspired more trepidation than the sight of Voldemort or his uncle.
Still moments later it remained there almost as if determined to stay before the shocked boy. Glaring its mystery before him and entreating him to open its pages into the interior of the mystery.
But then, such thoughts or notions escaped his rationality as Mrs. Malfoy entered in the room. His hands deftly closed the box and stared composedly at the lady of the manor. She smiled gracefully and entreated them both to open their gifts.
The spell of the haunting had broken and the somber silence had faded into the murmers and exclamations of Draco and Harry opening the pile of gifts. The smiles and pleasant comments from Mrs. And Mr. Malfoy as they regained from the stupor of a deep sleep.
The book lay covered and enchanting its presented owner to glance at it ever so slightly without conspicuous attention.
Several books later, a picture frame, candy, cakes and robe, there came another anonmynous gift in the hands of Harry Potter.
With no further ado, he could not entreat his fears and trepidation over the blatant dominance of curiousity. That and that at this point, it had been the last present on the pile, he was watched by all the spectators in the room.
The final gift was enclosed in a faded black box, that seemed slightly tarnished with time and dust. It reminded Harry of the ancient tomes in the most isolated section of the library with dust and prestine lack of use that relinquished their gleaming enchantment for silent slumber until another hand should crease their spine and open their dusty pages and find something of interest or earnest desire in their forgotten pages.
There was however, a note in sharp and clear handwriting.
It was left to me, and now I return it to the rightful owner.
They never say what they are until it's time.
Therein lay a scarlet wreath with a pale blossom that smelled fresh as if recently picked but the twine encircling the blossoms was faded grey and silver stars adorned the general frame. Underneath lay a cloak of a strange silvery substance. This Harry could identify without doubt as a Invisibility Cloak.
Narcissisa stared at Lucius with a furitive glance. Had this crown of life dawned upon them some deep realization to this illusive mystery that layed in the name Potter? Remarkably none could see the woven ring in the pearly white blossom.
What had stumbled so innocently into the arms of a Christmas Day? The silence and gradual chatter would not tolerate the ever faint sound of singing soul whose lost life had but one holding, a child in the shadows.
How far we are from morning
How far we are
And the stars shining through the darkness,
Falling in the air.
The snow was faintly falling as the boys left to the winter fantasy. Traipsed in the falling spectacle and playing as normal children often do; blind to the smiling laugh above the sounds of racous play and amnesia of the trouble ahead.
A Lady in the distance was there, a flitting spirit among the brightly shining flakes. Had she not moved Harry would not have seen her slight figure in the daylight storm. Had he not turned for a moment, he would seen her disappear in a flicker of the winter wind.
Perhaps he thought it was but a mere dream of some strange wanting. Yet the reality had just come in with the wintry spectacle, so fondly he held fast to the dream, forgetting later the Lady in the brilliance of the morning.
The mindless center had unfolded
In the serenity of a smile
Doth the lady hold upon the silent child
And fading away
That smiling nymph
Hath all our hopes to hold.
End of Chapter 5
A/N: Yey five pages! Progress! -; Yeah, I added the cloak, I wasn't going to at first, but then I changed my mind; oh it's NOT who you might think it is, (Dumbledore) it's someone else.
Disclaimer: Not owning HP,etc, Songs belong to Sarah McLaughlin, Enya, two lines of poetry are from Robert Frost "Stopping in the Woods…" and last poem is mine.
No Challenge Winner; I didn't think it was that difficult -- okay, one more time:
Mithras
>Find the Root of the word. It is rather largely important to the plot
>>Reward to the First One to review with the answer:Besides giving you the "grand revelation" about Harry's true identity; I'll add three questions about anything in the story and/or the future course of the story.
: I'm going to be re-editing the story from ch. 1-8. It will take a while; but i'm not stopping the story to do this so; my updates will range from Fridays-Sundays.
Next Ch: What the book is; finally; Return to Hogwarts; Countdown to the showdown. Maybe a revelation about Draco.
-: Please Read & Review!
Arigato
(thanks)