It was rather like a Portkey, Harry thought as he whirled through space. Dunno, I might even like this better than a Portkey. Or Floo Poweder. That stuff's nasty. I wonder if- his thoughts froze as he felt himself being pulled into the ground. He shut his eyes, anticipating a painful thud. It never came. When he dared to open his eyes, he saw that he was floating in a rather large living room. He could not see everything, only that which was right in front of his face. Maroon window treatments draped across the walls and framed pictures of hundreds of wizards were covering almost everything. Harry could not recognize any of them, but suspected that the one with an ugly nose just might have been Merlin. He was fast asleep, snoring loudly. A stone fireplace was looming in front of the soft Harry was over. From what he could see, it too was red.
'This must belong to a Gryffindor,' he thought joyfully. A CRACK! Melinda appeared and scowled at Harry's piercing green eyes.
"Oh, don't be such a party pooper," she reprimanded him. "You'll like it here. I mean, Grandfather did." Harry's jaw dropped. He swore. Even though he was frozen. Melinda stared at him, and then smacked herself on the forehead. "Oh right! Sorry Harry," she said as she waved her hand over his body and he fell with a thud to the floor. He could move. He made to punch the girl, but she conjured up a shield wandlessly and he was thrown back, crashing into the fireplace. He winced as he tried to stand up, but Melina walked over to him and pointed her wand directly at his head.
"Don't touch me, or I'll blow your brains out," she said cheerfully. "Clear?" Harry mumbled a response. "I can't hear you!" she sang, clearing enjoying tormenting him.
"Okay!" Harry bellowed. The walls shook, and several paintings awoke.
"Be quiet, boy!" one witch said, glaring at him and sticking her tongue out. Harry stuck his right back out , and turned his attention back to Melinda. She clicked her tongue disapprovingly, once again, looking frighteningly like McGonogall. Harry shrank back.
"Are you going to let me up?" he demanded. Melinda chuckled.
"Well I suppose I could," she said dramatically, speaking slowly, "but it's much more fun to abuse you. Harry leapt up, his Quidditch reflexes too quick for her. He tackled her to the ground, snatched up her wand, and pointed it at her heart.
"Now who's in charge?" he smirked. Melina looked unwavered. She held out her hand, and the wand flew into it. She stood up to an angry Harry.
"Don't – ever," she said looking menacing, "touch – me – again – ," Harry glared at her again, wanting to kill her for embarrassing him like this even if no one was there to see. She brandished her wand, and a sofa came zooming forward to cause Harry to topple back. She settled comfortably into a plush, pink chair.
"Now," she smiled smugly, "we came here to talk."
"What is there to talk about?" Harry growled. Melinda surveyed him.
"You're in a mood, Harry." Harry glared at her. "Only proving my point," she laughed. "You've got to stop feeling like a bloke. Stop feeling sorry for yourself! Dumbledore would think you're being selfish," she added. Harry leapt up, furious.
"Don't ever bring him into this!" he snarled. Melinda didn't look at him.
"Don't ever get off the subject Harry," she mocked him. "Now, get out there and start destroying the Horcruxes! Save lives! Sirius would want you to, too." Harry stood up. That was it! No one would EVER make him feel guilty by mentioning two of the most important people in his life, both of which were dead. She had insulted their memories! He balled his hand into a fist, and punched. He met his target, right in the stomach. Melinda's eyes watered in pain. She gasped, staggering backwards, clutching her stomach.
"Harry!" she groaned. "Oh-my-Har-" her face turned white, and she fell forwards onto her knees. Harry gasped, and knelt by her side, staring at her lolling head.
"No!" he cried. "Bloody hell! M-Melinda, I'm sorry!" Her eyes were closed, and thick, oozing gunky stuff came seaping out under her eyelids and rolled down her cheeks. Saliva dripped from her mouth, and she wheezed heavily. Harry cradled her head, which was now in a grotesque angle falling limply over her shoulders. With a loud crack, and still holding onto her tightly, Harry disapparated to Hogwarts. He felt a searing pain in his stomach, and looking down. His legs were missing.
"I've splinched myself!" he screamed, howling in pain. This was pain; this was hurting; this was almost as bad as the Cruciatus curse, maybe ever worse. Half his body was missing, it felt like his insides were falling out. He regained some sense to look at his side to see Melinda lying perfectly still beside him, her crumpled form still on the floor. He saw with a pang that he had only moved a few feet. Of course, he smacked himself through his tears. Hogwarts has anti-apparation wards put up. I'm so stupid! But why was Melinda still whole? Was she really that powerful? After all, she did have Dumbledore's blood. Harry's sobs racked the air, and he wondered if anyone would ever find him. Probably not. He guessed that no one even knew Dumbledore owned this huge, magnificent place. Suddenly, the doors burst open.
"Harry Potter sir!" Dobby gasped. He rushed forward and clicked his fingers. Harry felt a heavy weight being attached to himself, and looked down to see that his bottom half had returned. It still hurt like shit, though, he grimaced, tenderly rubbing his hip.
"Thanks Dobby," he panted. The house-elf was looking at him fearfully.
"What is Mister Harry Potter doing here, sir?" he asked in a trembling voice.
"I'm with Melinda," he replied shortly. He had been ready to kill her, and now it looked as though that were true. Dobby's eyes widened.
"No sir," he whispered. "No, Harry Potter must not be with bad girl. Bad bad bad girl," he said shaking his finger. He then squeaked for no apparent reason, and tried to run. Harry caught him easily and spun him around so they were face to face.
"What are you talking about?" he demanded. Dobby shook his head, and disappeared.
"No!" Harry said angrily, stomping his foot on the floor. "No one tells me anything these days! Why did she fall, anyway?" he thought. "I mean, it was just a tiny punch. Maybe she's allergic to me?" He would have laughed if not for her disturbing form lying a few feet away. He concentrated fiercely on the mailbox at the Burrow, and found himself standing there.
"Harry Potter!" he gasped. "And quick!"
"Go right ahead," it replied in a pleasant voice, and the spells and enchantments protecting the house disappeared. Harry dashed forward and threw open the door.
"Mrs. Weasley! Mr. Weasley!" he shouted. "Help! It's Melinda." Suddenly a door sprung open, and Mr. Weasley appeared looking frightened.
"What's wrong with Melinda?" he asked wildly.
"She's hurt," Harry said quietly. He was not going to tell him how it was him who hurt her. Mr. Weasley clutched his wand.
"Where to?" he asked. Harry hesitated. Could they apparate there? Or were there anti-apparation wards?
"Dumbledore's place," he said at last. Mr. Weasley look confused.
"Dumbledore's place?" he repeated. Harry nodded. "Where is that?" Harry suddenly realized he didn't know.
"I'm not sure," he said helplessly. "She-she sort of sent me there. B-by surprise." Mr. Weasley smiled knowingly.
"Gippracted you, huh." Harry had no idea what that meant, but obviously Mr. Weasley did. He was chuckling to himself. "All right, Harry. You apparate there. Envision it clearly in your mind. I'll side-along with you. He grasped Harry's arm tightly. Harry focused on the beautiful Gryffindor living room, and with a pop, they were there. Mr. Weasley strode forwards, and then turned around and threw up his hands.
"Where is she, Harry?" Harry ran forward in a panic to the spot where Melinda had been lying only minutes before. She was gone.
"Melinda!" he shouted. "Where are you? You were right here, I saw you! Melinda!"
"Yes, Harry?" she asked, walking forward with a tray laden with food. "What do you want? I have some stuff here that Dobby gave me. Want some?" Harry stared at her.
"Bu-but," he sputtered. "I saw you! You were right there!" Melinda laughed.
"You're seeing things, Harry," she retorted with a snicker, but winking at him.
"I'm not!" Harry roared. "I'm not going nuts! I punched you, and you fainted!" Mr. Weasley gasped.
"You what?" he bellowed. "You punched her? For goodness sake, boy, did they not teach you manners at the place? You can't hit a girl!" Harry backed up in horror.
"She was there," he cried. "I swear, I saw her, she was RIGHT- THERE! Would I lie?" Mr. Weasley looked uncomfortable.
"Well…no, but," he stammered. "But what happened to her? If you hurt her so badly that she fainted, then she would have been severely injured. Harry, she's right here. I don't know what to tell you."
"She was right there!" Harry screamed, pounding his fist on the wall in frustration. He grabbed his hair and several thick clumps of black hair fell to the plush, red carpet. "So now I'm going crazy? What next?" Harry grabbed a pillow and started tearing it apart and letting the feathers fly everywhere, and continued to sever the now ruined fabric. Mr. Weasley pulled out his wand and pointed it with a shaking hand at Harry's heart.
"Harry, you need to calm down," he said in a forceful tone. Harry grabbed his own wand from the mantelpiece and aimed it at Mr. Weasley.
"I am calm!" he roared. Suddenly, he felt a presence behind him. Out of the corner of his glass lenses he saw a dark figure walking shyly towards him. He whirled around to come face to face with Ron.
"Harry?" Ron's face was white and he was shivering in apprehension. "Harry? Why are you and Dad pointing your wands at each other?" Harry looked at him in the eye.
"I-," he suddenly realized he was dumbstruck, and at a loss for words. "I-er." Mr. Weasley came up from behind and placed a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry flushed and looked ashamed and embarrassed.
"Harry and I simply had a slight misunderstanding," he said calmly. Ron looked confused. Harry lowered his gaze and silently thanked Mr. Weasley. "Come on, boys," Mr. Weasley offered. "Let's go home. By the way Ron, what are you doing here?" he asked his youngest son curiously.
"Mum told me your clock hand was at Mortal Peril, and none of ours have been at it for awhile," he said defiantly. "I touched the W, and appeared here."
"Wait," Harry interrupted. "What W? Couldn't you just apparate?" Ron looked at him in complete exasperation and a bit of amusement. He shook his head in disappointment.
"Young Harry, Harry, Harry," he grinned, showing his teeth in a way that looked oddly familiar. Harry growled in mock anger.
"Don't even joke, Ron!" he said hotly. "I hate him!" Ron laughed, also remembering their encounter in the Chamber of Secrets with their deranged, cocky Defense Against The Dark Arts Professor. Mr. Weasley was baffled.
"Boys, what are you talking about?" Ron just shook his head.
"Old Lockhart story, dad," he said. He turned back to Harry. "Okay, our entire family has a W encrusted in our foot. Had it since we were born. We touch it, and appear at whoever we think of. Not as hard as apparating, because you don't have to do the three D's. Dumb, Dumber, and Definitely Dumbest. Oh, I'm sorry, that was four D's. Guess there are three people in this world. Those who can count, and those who can't. Sorry, Harry where was I?" Harry stared at him.
"Ron-are you okay?" he sputtered. "You seem really excited about something. Ron shook his head.
"Course not, Harry. Now, as kids, we couldn't apparate, so we could touch it and not go to Azkaban or get a huge fine or whatever. Got it?" Harry nodded silently. Ron rolled up the cuff of his sleeve to reveal a tiny, white W. Understanding, Harry touched it, and he vanished in a flourish of light.