A/N: Thank you everyone who keeps on reviewing!!! It means so much to me =) Gives me the get go to get behind the comp and type =) Here's the next chapter, hope you like it.
WARNING: This chapter contains graphic violence. If it ain't your cup of tea, then skim over Harry's vision. There be gore here people – so if you're faint of heart, or tummy, don't read the end of this chapter. If you can handle it, then by all means, please do. Just don't say I didn't warn ya.
Chapter 10: Visions
Ginny and Neville strolled through the halls of Hogwarts, taking their time and making sure they were seen by other students as they made their way back to the dorms. It was near curfew time, and the hallways were lit with flickering lamps that cast fickle shadows on the wall. Ginny could feel Neville's nervousness through the hand she was holding – but she didn't know how to reassure him. Hell, she didn't know how to reassure herself. They had agreed with Harry that they would tell Ron that night about the supposed 'altercation' between them and the dark haired boy – thus insuring that Ron got their version of the story first. They had left the other boy in the Library, his eyes following them silently as they left his small alcove. Ginny shivered a little at the small, lost look that seemed to haunt Harry's eyes – she wished she could help him, she wished he'd let her help him. As the two Gryffindors came up to the entrance of the Tower, a noise made them pick up the pace – the noise turned out to be Professor McGonagall's strident voice coming through the portrait hole. The Fat Lady was sitting on her couch, nervously twisting her hands together, rapidly opening the door for them the second the password left their lips. Once inside, their Head of House's voice could be heard clearly.
"Never in all my years as Head of Gryffindor House have I heard of such unbecoming behavior perpetrated by and on members of the House! I am very disappointed in all of you! Mr. Weasley – to push a fellow Housemate in such a potentially dangerous situation – someone could have been seriously hurt! What were you thinking? This nonsense will stop at once, is that understood? You are Gryffindors – act like it!" McGonagall stood, towering over the gathered House imposingly, glaring at them all as she wrapped up her lecture. Ginny and Neville crept up to the edge of the common room, praying that they didn't grab her attention. The rest of the House stood looking at their feet, none of them brave enough to meet her eyes. They all nodded their understanding swiftly, and with one last furious look at the House, the Head of Gryffindor swept from the room, brushing by Neville, her robes swishing angrily. When she was gone, Ron finally raised his still-pink face from where he'd been studying the floor. His features were lined with anger.
"That bloody cow! How dare she – " he began, hands curling at his sides.
"Ron!" Hermione gasped, scandalized. She shrank back though, when Ron turned on her, eyes snapping with fire.
"Did you hear her, Hermione? We play one, just one, serious prank on Potter in a classroom and he goes running to the Head of the House! And she believes him, and sticks up for him, when she says nothing about this!" Ron gestured furiously at his bright pink skin. Dean nodded in agreement, hands twitching at his sides, still angry about his own coloration. "It never changes. Potter is still the darling of McGonagall's eyes – and always will be! Even when he ends up killing us all in our sleep, she'll believe he's innocent! She can't be trusted, not anymore!" Ron snarled, and to Ginny's horrified surprise, a large portion of the House nodded in agreement with her brother. As Ginny and Neville moved further into the room, Ron caught sight of them. He turned on them, eyes narrowing, and Ginny felt a lead ball form in her stomach. He knows, she realized. Someone's already tattled to him. "And you!" Ron hissed at Ginny, eyes narrowing. "One of the second years told me that you two were in the library with the bloody prat himself!" Ron's face was purpling with rage. Ginny felt ice rush through her veins as she prepared herself to launch into the story they had decided on, but stopped just before the words left her mouth. For a moment Ginny merely looked at her brother, really looked, and realized that she really didn't like what she saw. He's a fanatic, she realized after a moment. He hates Harry, he really, really does. There's no truth to Ron besides his own anymore – he'll never listen to me. The only thing that matters to him now is what he believes is the truth – not reality. She blinked at her brother, sadness rushing through her as she contemplated him. She abandoned the plan they had cooked up and bared her teeth at Ron. If I'm going down – I'm not going without a fight, she thought grimly.
"Whether or not Neville or I were in the Library is none of your business. I can't believe you had a second year spying on us – that's bloody low, brother dear." She sneered at him, taking a moment to enjoy the momentarily shocked look on her brother's face. She paled when Ron began to advance on her, his shock forgotten – but much to her surprise Neville placed himself in front of her, facing the rage-filled Weasley head on.
"Now, look here," Neville said as he blocked Ron's advance. He took a deep breath, grabbed onto his courage and prayed for the ability to channel Snape yet again. "Yes, we saw Harry in the Library – but it's nothing like you think. He sat me down and warned me to take proper care of Ginny – to not hurt her, or he'd make me pay. How evil is that? How uncaring, how mad? He wanted to make sure Ginny was being treated properly – and not as some whore, something you never did! What do you say to that?" Neville shouted in Ron's face as the taller boy stood over him, completely abandoning the story they had thought up in favor of a well-edited version of the truth. Neville drew himself up to his full height and glared right back at Ron, daring him to do something. Neville's uncharacteristic show of backbone took the wind out of Ron's sails, as the boy he'd normally trample over developed a bite of his own.
"Neville – what's come over you?" Ron began, trying to guilt the smaller boy back into his normal role of clumsy idiot. Ron was about to continue when a noise from the entrance of the Tower drew everyone's attention. Harry walked into the tense room, slowly coming to a stop halfway to the stairs leading up to their rooms. Ron's expression darkened, and he turned to face the slight boy.
"You filthy little tattle tale! Get pushed and go running for McGonagall, eh? You aren't so brave on your own, now are you? Can't take a little joke, oh no, not you. You have to blow it out of proportion and get the Head of the House mad at the rest of us. You're pathetic," Ron spat. The dark haired boy merely raised a cool eyebrow.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," he said calmly, freeing his arms – keeping them loose by his sides, ready to go for his wand. Ron snarled at him.
"McGonagall came in here tonight and ripped the House up one side and down the other – all because of the incident today in Potions. The only one who could have told her was you." Harry shook his head, a small frown creasing his face.
"I never said anything to McGonagall," Harry refuted clearly, the firelight playing along his face, giving him an ethereal glow.
"Liar," Dean spat. Harry's eyes flicked past Ron and looked at the other boy coldly. Nods of agreement went through the room, all of them subtly forming up behind Ron, showing their support of the pink faced boy. Harry eyed them all evenly, a rush of adrenaline running through his body.
"I'm no liar, you all are. You lie to everyone, including yourselves. You're Gryffindors – and yet you have no faith in one of your own Housemates. You'd rather believe rumors and lies than me. You're disgusting," Harry hissed at them, finally losing his temper at the sight of their unification against him. Ron roared and went for his wand, but Harry was quicker.
"Expelliarmus!" Harry shouted, wand already in his hand. Ron's wand snapped from his grip and flew into Harry's outstretched palm with a satisfying smack. Fred, George and Dean also went for their wands.
"Aeger crus!"
"Reducto!"
"Petrificus totalus!" The three shouted out at Harry. The dark haired boy dove, not even attempting to defend himself from the curses. He skidded on his belly along the ground, wincing mentally as he heard the glasses of his potions ingredients clank together inside his bag. He quickly rose to a crouch, his wand now pointed at the other boys.
"Expelliarmus! Expelliarmus! Expelliarmus!" Harry shouted in rapid succession. The wands yanked themselves from their owner's grips and flew into Harry's hand. It was an impressive feat. Hermione went for her own wand, but Ron stopped her, eyes a little wide.
"See, look. He's already started to go Dark," Ron said snidely, voice still a little weak. Harry tightened his grip on their wands, feeling the wood grind together.
"Seeing as you're the one that tried to curse me for a simple comment, I'd have to say that you're the evil bastards, not me," Harry growled. He stood and threw their wands at them. "You hypocritical assholes. I hope you all die and rot in hell." Harry hissed at them, eyes narrowing and the green blazing in the light of the fire. He spat at Ron's feet and stormed past them, up the stairs and the door to his room could be heard banging shut loudly. Ron and the others snatched up their wands up from the floor and ran their hands over them, making sure they were still intact. Ginny let out a breath she hadn't realized that she'd been holding and looked at Neville, her eyes wide. That – was bad. Hermione came up next to Ron and began whispering in his ear, occasionally glancing at the stairs that Harry had stormed up. Ron listened intently for a moment and then began nodding in agreement with whatever she was saying. He drew Dean and Hermione off to a corner of the room, glancing over his shoulder at Ginny as he did so.
"What do you think of your Boy Wonder now?" he taunted, a smirk contorting his face into an ugly mask. Ginny narrowed her eyes at her brother and shook her head in disgust. The rest of the House gathered in front of the fireplace, all beginning to whisper together frantically, shutting the remaining two Gryffindors out. Ginny and Neville exchanged another look, noticing that they were also on the short list with the House now, it seemed. Ginny drew Neville away, eyes lingering on the forms of Ron, Dean and Hermione, who were huddled together in the corner of the room. They're up to something, Ginny noted, a feeling coming over her. But what? She made a note to herself to meet up with Harry and try to divine some answers – while never good for concrete facts, her ability at divination had helped her in the past, by putting her on the correct road for answers. She'd heard stories from her parents – and Bill, about Lily's rather decent abilities at divination. Ginny thought that maybe Bill or her parents had told Harry of it at one point or another – if not, she'd convince him to help her herself. Must write to Bill, as well, she reminded herself, drawing Neville into a side room off of the main common room. This is getting way out of hand. He'll knock some sense into Ron.
*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*
Draco and Severus stood anxiously over the cauldrons in the Potions Master's lab, while Lucius lounged in a nearby chair, watching them avidly. He had been decent at potions, but not like the two who were carefully adding the remaining ingredients into the simmering concoctions. Severus had stormed into the dungeons and hour before and had barely said a word other than terse directions to Draco since. Both the Malfoy's knew this was Severus's way of getting over his pent up anger, so they didn't take his biting comments to heart. Lucius had been angry was well, but his anger had been mostly directed at the Weasleys. Lucius knew Severus was still mostly upset over Albus's refusal to answer the question of whom the potion was for. Severus slammed down the lids on the cauldrons, tightening them down. The last ingredients were in and now the potion needed to sit for at least eight hours – but the longer it sat, the more potent it became. Severus then tore off his leather work-apron and stormed towards the showers – still angry. Lucius got a glint in his eye and stood swiftly. Draco looked at his father, rolled his eyes, and then headed for the door.
"Go on. Just – be quiet, ok? I'm going to stay out here and pretend that I have no idea what you're doing," Draco called over his shoulder as he made his way for Severus's office. Lucius smirked at his son's back before hurrying after his lover.
Sometime later, the two older, much more relaxed men made their way to the office. They found Draco behind Severus's desk, bent over a scroll, writing furiously. At their entrance, the young Malfoy looked up, tense – but relaxed when he realized it was them. Lucius ambled over to his son, peering over his smaller frame, looking at what he was writing. It was a list of names and Houses.
"I thought you had already narrowed down the spies from the other Houses?" Lucius raised an eyebrow at his son. Draco sighed and leaned back in his chair, eyes tracking his father and godfather's movements around the room. The adults poured themselves tumblers of scotch and took a seat on the couch.
"I thought we had – until Millicent overheard a very strange conversation near the Charms classroom. They were two third year, third year, girls from Ravenclaw, and Millicent said she was sure she heard thraxis come from one of them." He rubbed absently at the ink on one of his hands, not looking at the adults. Thraxis was part of a code used by Death Eaters – and their children. Most of the Slytherins knew it – but had never used it. It was normally used in passing along information to higher-ups in the Death Eater circles. Neither one of the Ravenclaw girls had been on the Slytherin's previous list. "Millicent said they moved away before she could hear anything else. But that means, much to my irritation and worry, that we have a problem on our hands. We were mostly sure about the few students we'd had on our list at the beginning of the week, but with his information, it means that there were either more than we thought, or," he sighed and looked up at the adults, "or that there's someone here, recruiting." Severus stood abruptly, pacing quickly in front of the fireplace, face set in worried lines.
"Hell and damnation," he muttered, sipping his scotch absently, rubbing the glass along his bottom lip. He came to a halt in front of the fire, staring into it without seeing it. "We need our own informants in those bloody Houses," Severus snarled. He returned to the couch and sat down next to Lucius heavily. He tossed back the last of his alcohol and sighed. He pinned Draco with a look. "You'll need to keep an eye out for Potter as well," he said. Draco sat up abruptly.
"How's that?" he asked sharply. Severus scowled at the boy.
"The Weasleys were put on probation in the Order. They've gone fanatical, and Albus is worried. You saw that stunt today in Potions – who knows what's going on in that dorm? The boy could very well be on his way to hating the wizarding world entirely because of the actions of his House – his supposed home away from home." Severus leaned back into Lucius, rubbing a hand over his face. A dawning understanding could be seen coming over Draco.
"So that's why he keeps flying out his window," Draco muttered, brows coming together in a frown. Severus cocked his head at the boy, an odd look on his face.
"He what?" the Potions Master asked, mild shock coloring his words. Lucius gazed at his son, just as surprised as Severus. Draco frowned, trying to remember.
"Blaise and I were outside before breakfast, gathering some ingredients for you, when we saw Potter skinnying himself out of his tower window and then fly down to the entrance of the school. He didn't see us, but he looked livid. They must be getting him as he's leaving his room, or else why escape by the window?" Draco murmured, leaning back in his chair, eyes glazing over as he thought about it. Severus snorted and threw his hands up in the air.
"That boy! I may not particularly like him – but for crying out loud, he's only a boy!" Severus exploded, exasperated. "An annoying, curious, irritating, hard headed brat – but still only a boy! A boy who shouldn't have to deal with maniacal reporters, faithless Housemates and evil Dark Lords! Sometimes I wonder what Albus was thinking when he made the boy into the figurehead he is now," Severus said, disgusted. Draco looked at his godfather oddly, his attention back to the conversation at hand.
"You don't hate him then?" Draco asked, curious. Severus huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, eyes glittering in the light of the room.
"I save my energy and my hate for those who deserve it. People like Voldemort, for example, and Hitler – it's people like them who deserve my hate. Potter," Severus sighed and looked at the fireplace, "I don't like the boy, and I certainly couldn't stand his father. But I don't hate him. He's annoying, yes, stubborn – Lord knows, but he's only a boy. A boy who's never really had a childhood – or a normal life. And as much as I hate to admit it – I have to say that the boy has held up extraordinarily well under the pressure that's been piled up on him since he returned to the wizarding world. He deserves a chance, at least, to be normal for a while. Had he been Sorted into Slytherin, then perhaps –" Severus trailed off, running out of steam. But Draco knew what his godfather meant. In Slytherin, Harry would have been treated normally, equally – given a chance to blend in and just be a boy, and not be put up on a pedestal by his Housemates. Most all Slytherins came from wealthy, powerful families – fame was nothing to them, merely a tool to be used against their enemies.
"What do you want us to do?" Draco asked. Severus sent him a smile.
"Watch over him. Try and talk to him. Get close to him. He wont go running to McGonagall if things get bad – he's got too much pride for that. I have a feeling that Minerva's little 'chat' with the Gryffindors tonight is only going to make things worse for the boy. And now that he's at least fighting back – things could get out of hand." Draco nodded his understanding. They sat in silence for a while then, each wrapped up in their own thoughts.
*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*
The next morning found Harry eyeing his door warily. He shifted from foot to foot uneasily, Firebolt in hand and Quiddich robes on. He took a deep breath, grasped the handle gingerly and pulled the door open quickly, springing out of the way as he did so. He peered around the bulk of the door and saw – nothing. Harry edged closer towards the frame, peering upwards to check for any floating objects that were just waiting to drop on him. Nothing. Harry made his way through the doorway cautiously, and let out a relieved sigh when nothing happened. He closed his door and muttered a locking spell he'd been working on from one of the many books he'd picked up before school had started. In order to get back into the room, it would require his magical signature in order to unlock the door. Gotta love those books, Harry thought fondly.
He made his way down to the common room, meaning to meet up with the team before they went to breakfast. He'd seriously considered quitting the team the night before – but decided that he couldn't give up the sport. He loved flying, and he especially loved being a seeker. It was the one thing that he felt that he'd earned on his own, with his own hard work and practice. The natural talent didn't hurt, either – but still, Harry was proud of his abilities at the Seeker position and tried to practice them as much as he could. He entered the common room to see the rest of the team already assembled in front of the fireplace – all facing the hallway where Harry was to emerge. He faltered on the last step under their united gaze, a chill running up his spine. He settled himself across from them, facing their united front with a brave face. Fred and George moved forward.
"Fred, George," Harry said neutrally, nodding to each of them. They didn't so much as blink back at him.
"We have decided that we no longer want you on the team," Fred said flatly. Harry felt as though someone had punched him in the gut.
"Wh- you what?!" Harry stuttered, shock making his voice break. Someone from the team twittered and Harry felt himself flush with embarrassment.
"We. Don't. Want. You. On. The. Team," George spat out. Harry blinked at the other boy, now feeling the blood drain from his face. This can't be happening, this simply can't be happening, Harry thought faintly, a little dizzy.
"Are you daft?" Harry blurted out without thinking. "You'll not have a chance at the Cup – Slytherin, hell, even Ravenclaw will –" George's face grew angry at Harry's predictions.
"You little egotistical prat," the older boy spat, his expression twisting into an ugly look of contempt. Harry blinked at him, this has to be some surreal nightmare. Please let it be some bizarre nightmare. He pinched himself, and realized with a sinking heart that he wasn't asleep.
"I'm not being egotistical – it's merely the truth. Malfoy is a decent seeker, a bloody evil, cheating seeker at times, but still, a good player. And Cho is good – and I'm not sure about Hufflepuff this year – but still," Harry babbled, "Without a decent seeker, Gryffindor is out of the running for the Quiddich Cup". Fred snorted at him, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Harry, that attitude is one of the reasons why we no longer want you on the team. You aren't the only player out there, and the seeker position isn't the end-all position of the sport. Your holier-than-thou attitude when it comes to your abilities at playing seeker has rubbed us the wrong way. You're not the only person on the field, and it's time you realized that," Fred snapped. Harry felt a rush of ice go through his veins.
"Who's replacing me?" Harry asked, voice tight; he had a sneaking suspicion as to who it was. George and Fred smirked at him, and moved apart – revealing the smug expression of Ronald Weasley in brand new quiddich robes. Harry fought back a rush of rage. "Congratulations Ron. You've finally made the team. Are you happy now that you're the center of attention? How does being the apple of everyone's eye feel?" Harry spat bitterly before turning and storming back up the stairs. As he left he heard Ron loudly complaining voice echo through the room.
"See what I mean? It's always about him! He just can't stand the fact that he's no longer the most important person in the dorm anymore!" Harry tried to block the redhead's voice out after that. If you only knew, Ron. If you only knew, he thought bitterly.
He stripped out of his quiddich clothes hastily, throwing them aside carelessly – it's not like I'll need them anymore, he thought viciously. He swallowed a lump in his throat and ignored the prickling of tears in his eyes. He changed into a pair of Dudley's old jeans and a ripped t-shirt that was once a vibrant red, but now was a faded orange. He then wrapped a heavy winter robe around himself, grabbed his wand and eased his door open carefully, listening intently. The team was gone. Harry let out a relieved sigh and slipped out of the dorm, making his way to the lakeshore, wanting to be alone.
He sat on the fine white sand, just beyond the small lapping waves of the lake, memories of the Tri-Wizard Tournament rushing through his mind. He rubbed at his face, wiping away a few tears angrily. They don't deserve my tears, he snarled mentally. They don't deserve anything at all. He huddled into a tight ball, wrapping his arms securely around his legs, eyes focused on a distant point across the lake. It wasn't until a shadow passed over him that he realized he wasn't alone. Draco Malfoy sat himself down next to Harry without a word. The dark haired boy eyed the blond warily, looking around for others – but the Slytherin seemed to be alone.
"Malfoy," Harry said after a moment. The blond glanced at him and nodded.
"Potter." They sat in silence for a time, both looking out over the lake.
"You're missing Quiddich practice, you know," Draco pointed out after a while. Harry snorted and frowned.
"How're you so sure of that?" he snapped, on his guard. The blond merely looked over at Harry calmly.
"Because Gryffindor always has practice right now, and I'm always out here at the same time. That's why," Malfoy answered back snidely. He then huffed out a sigh, and looked away. "And anyhow, if you listen, you can hear the Weasels yelling their heads off," he pointed out. Harry listened and indeed, faint echoes of Fred and George's commands could be heard bouncing back to the pair seated on the beach. Harry sighed and propped his chin up on his knees, listening wistfully to the echoes, a flash of grief going through him.
"They kicked me off the team," Harry finally said, softly. Draco looked at him slowly, a look of shock on his face.
"Are they daft?" the other boy sounded scandalized. Harry chuckled at the blonde's unknowing echo of his own words.
"I asked them the same thing," Harry muttered. Draco blinked at the dark haired boy.
"They kicked off the best quiddich player that's been at Hogwarts in over a century because you turned the captains little brother's face pink?" Draco asked, aghast. Harry cocked his head at Draco.
"How'd you know it was my prank?" he asked, curious – and also flustered. Did Draco just compliment me? Draco shot him a scornful look and Harry relaxed, situation averted. He wouldn't know what to do if the other boy started being pleasant to Harry all the time. I'd probably run for the hills, or something.
"Please, Potter. None of the Slytherins did it, and the rest of the Gryffindorks think the Weasel is Christ reborn – so that leaves you," the blond pointed out shortly. Harry nodded slowly and they sat in silence for a time.
"Ron's the new seeker," he said, finally, keeping his eyes firmly on the other side of the lake. Draco snorted.
"Good God. This season's going to be a mess," the Slytherin muttered disgustedly. It was Harry's turn to chuckle bitterly.
"You should be happy. Slytherin will undoubtedly take the Quiddich Cup this year, easily. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw really don't have very good teams this year. Gryffindor was your only competition, and well -," he shrugged, "We're going to suck with Ron as seeker. The boy can't find his wand on a perfectly empty bed. The chances of him catching the snitch is beyond probable," Harry pointed out. Draco sighed.
"That's just it. There's no competition. What other reason is there to play?" Draco said sourly. "Sure, the Cup will be ours without a doubt – but there's no pleasure in not having anyone to go up against." Draco shrugged and looked over to the surprised Gryffindor. Harry tilted his head at Draco, eyes now firmly on the blond.
"Well, that was something I never expected to hear out of you," Harry finally said, tone dry. Draco smiled fleetingly, but a real smile nonetheless. They looked away from each other and back over the lake, enjoying the silence, neither knowing really what else to say. Harry stirred after a while, his stomach complaining about its lack of food. He got up slowly, brushing the sand off of his robes, looking down at the other boy. He hesitated as he went to leave.
"Thank you, by the way. For helping me out yesterday," Harry said awkwardly. Draco glanced up at him and smirked.
"Couldn't have you fall into my cauldron, now could I?" he said, tone light and teasing. Harry rolled his eyes and sighed.
"Whatever Malfoy," he said, but there was no heat in his words. He began to walk away when the blond was suddenly at his side again. Harry eyed the other boy, but let it slide, enjoying the other's continued presence on the way back to the castle.
*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*
Harry was wolfing down dinner later that night, sitting at the far end of the Gryffindor table, when a tiny scroll appeared next to his plate. He eyed it nervously, then tucked it away in his pocket, looking around to see if anyone had noticed its arrival. No one had. He narrowed his eyes at the boisterous crowd at the center of the Gryffindor table – Fred and George were loudly proclaiming Ron's abilities as seeker, and the redhead himself was flushed and full of himself at the center of attention. Harry snorted to himself at the hypocrisy surrounding him and finished off the last of his pumpkin juice quickly. As his gaze wandered over the rest of the Hall, he noticed Draco's eyes were on him yet again. Harry transferred his gaze back to his plate – the blond confused him. They'd parted ways at the entrance of the school earlier in the day, but Harry had felt the weight of the other boy's gaze on him as he'd towards the Gryffindor table. Harry shook his head slightly – the puzzle that was Draco Malfoy would have to wait for another day. The scroll in his pocket was calling him. He got up from the table just as Ginny and Neville walked into the Great Hall. Harry tried to slip around them, but they followed him out. Ginny looked pale, and Neville was worried.
"Harry – we have to talk to you. There's something going on in the Tower," Ginny began. Harry hesitated, one hand going into his pocket, wrapping around the message there. He turned to the other two Gryffindors, a pained look on his face.
"I know. But I have to go somewhere right now. It's important," he said softly, eyes pleading with Ginny for her to understand. Ginny looked at him for a long moment, not saying a word. Then she nodded slowly, her eyes dark with promises.
"Alright Harry. But meet us tomorrow in the Library. We have to talk, alright?" He looked at her with gratitude and nodded, not saying a word. Ginny grabbed Neville's arm and led him back into the Great Hall over the sandy haired boy's protests. Harry escaped them gratefully. Once he was sure there was no one around, he stepped into an alcove and opened the small scroll. Harry, it read, please come to my office after dinner. It is ready. –D. Harry gulped, his mouth going dry. He was suddenly very happy that he hadn't eaten very much for dinner – he was afraid he was going to be sick. He tucked the scroll away quickly and stepped out of the alcove, checking to make sure he was still alone in the hallway. He then hurried towards the Headmaster's office.
As he reached the gargoyle that guarded the entrance, he felt a ball of lead form itself in his stomach. He whispered the password to the statue and watched it spring aside. He took a deep breath and tried to settle his nerves. It didn't really work. He steeled himself, and stepped onto the moving staircase, clutching the rail in a white-knuckled grip.
The Headmaster sat behind his desk, which was, for once, completely clear of paperwork. The Head Nurse sat on an overstuffed chair near the fire. They both rose when Harry stepped through the open office door.
"Ah, Harry, there you are," Dumbledore said warmly. Harry tried to smile at the older wizard, but failed miserably. Harry's eyes locked onto the small vial that sat in the center of the Headmaster's desk, its contents a think-looking black liquid that swallowed the light. The knot in Harry's stomach tightened further as he moved into the center of the room.
"Where do we do this?" Harry was proud that his voice refrained from cracking, and he attempted to still the trembling of his hands. He could feel sweat break out on his back and under his arms. The Headmaster's gaze became kind.
"Harry, you don't have to do this," he said gently. Harry shook his head and mentally berated himself for his weakness.
"No, sir. I do," he said firmly. The Headmaster looked away in acquiescence. His gaze went to Madam Pomfrey, who wiped her hands nervously on her apron, but looked ready.
"Poppy, shall we move to the room you've prepared?" Dumbledore asked. The medi-witch nodded and went to the fireplace. "We'll floo to Poppy's private office first," the Headmaster explained to Harry. The boy nodded and followed the nurse dutifully. He ended up in the neatly ordered office, and waited next to the unusually silent medi-witch for the Headmaster to arrive. When the older wizard had arrived the three walked out together to a part of the Hospital wing that Harry had never seen before. It was well away from the main ward, and was stark, glaring white in appearance. Poppy let them into a room that was just as sterile and cold as the rest of the hall.
"This hall is normally used for burn victims, or our more mentally – unstable – patients," Madam Pomfrey explained when she saw Harry eyeing the restraints on the bed. "Since all the information that the Headmaster has says you'll need to be restrained, I thought that you'd at least like to be comfortable," she said apologetically. Harry spared her a thankful glance. He slipped behind the small changing curtain and stripped out of his clothes, pulling on the loose pajamas that the medi-witch had supplied. Harry slipped out from behind the curtain and walked over to the bed, sitting down on it gingerly. The Headmaster conjured up a chair opposite of Harry and sat in it heavily.
"Harry, I'm going to go over the procedure with you now. All the information that I've been able to find tells me that you will slip into a light trance just after you take the potion. This is the most important time – while in this trance, you must find the connection between you and Voldemort. If you don't, then you could be swept away when the pain hits. You have to hold onto the connection with everything you have – the pain is there to make sure you're concentrating on it, or that's what the information I have says. Now, by all accounts, you'll find yourself on a type of mystic road, or path. You have to follow that path to the other's mind and find the opening that will let you in. Once inside, there will the danger of being swept away by the other's personality. You must concentrate on keeping 'you' separate from 'him'. If you don't – you could be lost inside his mind forever. Do you understand?" Harry could feel his eyes widening, but he nodded quickly, impressing the Headmaster's words into his memory. Dumbledore looked at him gravely. "Good. Now, there is a derivative of the truth serum in the potion, so don't worry about having to remember everything that you see. If you think it, your body here will speak it. Alright?" Harry nodded again, wiping his palms surreptitiously on his pajama bottoms. "Don't worry about getting back into your own mind – the potion does that for you. But you mustn't fight it, it will only make the pain worse, understood?" Harry gulped and nodded yet again.
"Yes sir," he said tightly. He couldn't drag his eyes away from the vial in the Headmaster's hand. All his mental voices were screaming at him – calling him four thousand different kinds of a fool for agreeing to take the potion. With effort he pushed them all aside and raised his eyes to Dumbledore's. The older wizard smiled at him kindly and Harry took strength from him. I can do this, he thought firmly. I can.
"Now, there's only a small dose in this vial – no more than ten to fifteen minutes worth, understood? If all goes well, we'll discuss longer forays in the future, but for now, I will not chance going any longer." Dumbledore was firm in his decision. Harry nodded rapidly with a feeling of relief. He wanted to spend as little time in that monster's head as he could. Madam Pomfrey hovered next to the Headmaster, who handed the vial over to Harry slowly. The dark haired boy took it hesitantly and stared at it for a long moment. He then uncorked it, took a deep breath and knocked it back before he could chicken out.
His first impression was that it tasted like a combination of Dr. Pepper and strawberries. He could feel the cold liquid move down his throat and enter his stomach. The cold then spread out, moving swiftly through the rest of his body. He dimly realized that he'd fallen back onto the bed, and that Madam Pomfrey was bustling around him, tightening the restraints on his limbs so that they held him down snugly. He remembered Dumbledore's words and tried to focus on the bond between him and Voldemort. He found it slowly – it pulsed a nauseating green to his inner eye, and it ran from his forehead out into space. Harry tried to grab onto the line when a wave of pain slammed into him.
Abruptly he found himself standing on a strange, gleaming road that pulsed the same malevolent green as his bond with Voldemort. After a moment, Harry realized he was on the bond itself, its shape taking that of a path for him to follow. He forced himself to his feet, one arm wrapped around his stomach, willing himself not to be sick. He lurched forward unsteadily, every step sending daggers of pain shooting through his head.
It felt like he wasn't getting anywhere when he suddenly noticed that the road had come to an end, and a huge fortress rose before him. Voldemort's mind, Harry thought dimly. I have to hurry. I don't know how much longer I have left. He followed the road up to the edges of the wall, looking for the crack that Dumbledore had described. He felt frustration wash through him as he looked and found nothing. Then he spotted it – a tiny crack in the smooth, dark gray wall and he moved towards it eagerly. He passed through it easily, body slipping through with little effort.
He was hit immediately by an obscene wave of hate and pleasure. He shrank back, sickened by the emotions rioting through the Dark Lord's mind. The smell of blood crashed over him like a wave – it was all he could taste, see and smell. He looked at his hands and found them coated in blood, tissue thick and coated under his nails, the color drying to a faded brown as he watched. Harry could feel his eyes go wide, and his breath begin to pant in and out of him – which only helped to further integrate the smell of copper and salt onto the back of his throat. Calm down, a mental voice snapped, sounding like Snape. Take stock. What do you see? He forced his eyes away from his hands and looked around. Abruptly he could hear the random thoughts and memories that were bouncing around Voldemort's head.
Must get more blood-The Boy – the Boy…
Cwn Annwn, I invoke you! I demand you that you come at my bidding!The voices and memories swirled around him, making him dizzy. He pushed himself forward, looking, searching for information that would tell him where the Dark Lord was. Suddenly he found himself in front of a large screen, and as Harry peered through it, he realized that he was looking through the Dark Lord's own eyes. Harry felt the blood drain from his face as he fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face. Now he understood why he was covered in blood. He closed his eyes briefly, then forced them open once more – trying to note all the details that he could.
Voldemort was sitting behind a desk, a large book open in front of him. It was old – and the pages looked odd. They weren't made of paper – no, it was too old for that. He realized that the book was written on skin and tried not to think about just what kind of skin it was. He tried to focus on the words of the page in front of him – but could not make them out. The ink though, was a dark red color – blood, he realized, feeling nausea rise in his throat. The book was made of flesh and blood. Harry clapped a hand over his mouth to keep from being sick, smearing blood across his face – the taste of bile burning the back of his throat. He looked around further, and wished he hadn't. To the left of the book lay a pulsing human heart, still shiny and slick with blood. It lay in a puddle of blood on the table, still twitching. On the other side of the book lay a large, bloody dagger, its ornate hilt nearly hidden with dried, crusted gore. Harry watched as Voldemort looked up, a pleased feeling rushing through the monster as he took in the chaos surrounding him.
Death Eaters were swarming the room around the Dark Lord – some in various stages of being punished and others doing the punishing. On the far wall a man was being skinned alive – his body stretched on the wall in a spread-eagle position as grim-faced people slowly pulled sections of skin off of his body. The man was screaming continuously, tears and snot running freely down his face. Next to him a woman was being brutally raped, her hands tied to a ring high up on the wall, and it looked as though both of her arms were dislocated at the shoulder. She made no noise – her gaze was shattered, locked on the ceiling, a trickle of blood running from her nose. To Voldemort's right, a young teen dear god don't let me know him please was being forced to eat his own flesh. The boy was gagging as he sliced off a portion of his own thigh and forced it into his mouth. To Voldemort's left a woman was being whipped severely – strips of flesh were dangling from her back, and pearly white hints of bone could be seen peeking out from the ruined canvas of her back. She sagged in her bonds, unconscious. But it was the body in front of Voldemort that finally broke Harry. Directly in front of Voldemort's desk hung the body of a little girl. Her feet dangled in the air, and she was completely naked. Her thin, frail body was bruised and cut severely, and where her face would have been was instead a ruin of flesh. Her chest was one huge gaping hole, and Harry realized that the heart sitting on the desk in front of him belonged to that little girl. He then realized that the body in front of him was still alive. The ruins of one eyelid flicked open, and the body jerked as it tried to breathe. Harry began to scream. Dimly he realized that Voldemort was speaking, and he tried to calm himself enough to listen – even if he couldn't take his eyes away from the ruin in front of him.
"- the McVir clan. Good, my Rat, good. The Book of Living Dead, what a good servant you are to bring it to me. I'll have to reward you well for your dedication," the sibilant voice thundered through Harry and he flinched away, eyes still locked on the child hanging in front of him. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please, I'm sorry he chanted at the body and the eye that had seemed to lock onto him. A rushing sensation came over Harry, and he dimly realized that the potion was wearing off. He kept his eyes on the little girl, the sight of her remaining clear, blue eye burning into his memory. I'm sorry Harry wailed as he was pulled from the Dark Lord's mind. He slammed back into his own body, pain shooting through him. He arched off the bed, back bending, screaming his throat bloody. He sagged and started to sob harshly, breath coming faster and faster, beginning to hyperventilate. He struggled against his bonds wildly, wanting to get away, wanting to tear at his eyes and his mind – he wanted to rip the images from his head, but he couldn't. He screamed again, struggling harder, feeling his muscles pull and tear as he thrashed on the bed.
Abruptly he was dowsed with cold water, and it shocked him into coherency. He collapsed on the bed, spent, no longer struggling. I'm back, I'm back, I'm back, he chanted mentally, panting harshly. I'm back, he whispered once more mentally, and then felt grief wash over him. He started to cry weakly and didn't care. That little girl – oh that poor little girl. Gentle hands released him from his bonds, and Harry curled up on his side, arms snaking around his body, shuddering. He felt bile rise in his throat and he struggled to reach the side of the bed. Gentle hands helped him, held a bucket under his head and soothed his hair back, murmuring gently. He shuddered and a cool rag wiped his face. A murmured spell took care of the mess and left him dry, and tasting mint. He sagged at the edge of the bed, whimpering softly, trying to get himself under control. A heavy weight settled to his side, and he rolled his head over with difficulty. The Headmaster's pale, lined face greeted his gaze.
"Did you get the name of the book?" Harry whispered hoarsely. Dumbledore shushed him, petting his hair gently.
"I got it. You did wonderfully, Harry. I'm so proud of you. You've given me more than enough information. Sleep now, shhh, sleep. We'll talk tomorrow," Albus crooned, helping a shaken Poppy to readjust the boy so that he was fully on the bed. Poppy's hands were trembling and her eyes were red – the sounds of agony that the boy had made had ripped her up inside – the child had screamed for nearly the entire time – and when he started pleading for forgiveness, she had broken down. She tenderly tucked the boy under the covers and pressed a Dreamless Sleep potion into him. The boy took it without a fight – eyes slipping closed swiftly. She sighed as she looked at his small, thin frame. Tears pricked her eyes yet again as the lines of pain that surrounded his mouth and eyes didn't fade completely. When they were sure he was completely asleep, the Headmaster and medi-witch slipped from the room quietly.
Poppy leaned against the door and drew in a ragged breath. "Oh Albus," she said thickly, "You can't have him go through that again." Albus sighed and folded his hands inside of his robes.
"I know, Poppy. But the boy will insist. And the information he got, even in this small attempt -,"
"Had him screaming for nearly a quarter hour straight! You heard the descriptions of what he saw! How could you put him through that again?" Poppy snarled uncharacteristically. Albus turned to her in surprise. The normally placid woman stood ramrod straight, hands clenched at her sides, eyes full of fire.
"And he just solved a very large puzzle for me, Poppy," Dumbledore said quietly. "He has just given me the information that could have taken months to get – if ever. He has potentially saved hundreds of lives," he said grimly. Poppy's posture sagged, her shoulders dropping and the fire dimmed in her eyes. "It's the book, Poppy. He's given us the answer we so desperately needed." Poppy took a shuddering breath and let it out slowly.
"The boy may go mad from this," she pointed out tiredly.
"I know," Dumbledore said sadly, walking away. He paused at the door to the main ward, "Please make sure to tell me when he wakes up." The medi-witch nodded silently and the Headmaster slipped out of the hallway. Poppy turned and placed a trembling hand on the door separating her from the sleeping boy within.
"Sleep well, child. May the angels guard your dreams," she murmured, and walked away. Inside the room Harry trembled and curled up on his side, silent tears making silvery tracks down his cheeks.
End Chapter 10
aeger crus = latin, "weak" "legs" (my incantation for the jellylegs jinx)
Review Responses:
Lady FoxFire: 0o will do as fast as one can =)
Charzy: Thank you for your review!
Ysabell: In my opinions, I think Dumbledore's one of the best Slytherins there is. The man is uncanny! As for the whole money thing – I'm having Dumbledore 'help' the Weasley's out through under the table gifts of money – something the entire Order knows about, but just ignores. …Saturday night fever – you know, when I read that, I had this image of Lucius in a seventies polyester suite (peach) shaking his thing with Severus going around and around on roller-skates…god I need sleep. Thanks for another wonderful review!
Hyperbole: LOL =) thank you for another lovely review!
Usagi Serenity Yui Cosmos: Harry and Draco should start getting to know one another pretty soon. Thanks again for reviewing!
Zenyel: Definitely a letter to Bill and Charlie coming up! The centaurs, hmm, perhaps…I hadn't thought about them yet, but they could come in handy =) Thanks for another wonderful review!
Athenakitty: There'll definitely be more pranking. And Harry does find out later that it's all Percy's fault. Lovely questions! Keep 'em coming – they make me think!
Minerva-Severus-Dumbledor: Thank you!!!!!!! There's definitely change in the wind for Harry – I just have to torture him some more. Thank you again!
BlackDragon: Thank you for the lovely review!
Arianrhod: Thank you for reviewing! I hope you enjoy the rest of the fic!
Wild kat: More Weasley info on the way! And more pranks =) Thank you for the review!
Shinigami: No dark!Harry here – just a rather gray one =) Things'll get better soon, don't worry. Thank you for the review!
Kristine Thorne: More Harry and Severus interaction soon =) And lol about Lucius and Severus =) Don't worry, nothing too racy will be posted here. Thank you for the lovely review!
Ptijade: Thank you for the wonderful review!
SparkySparkles: Definitely Blaise/Neville – they're just wonderful together =) Thank you for another lovely review!
Amy: There will be a version of this story that is NC17, but not here. Once I can figure out how to register for my own site, I'll post it there – or try and post it somewhere else. When I do, I'll make sure to give everyone a heads up on where to find it =) Thank you for the review!
Magami: No dark!Harry, just a rather gray one =) Thank you for the review!
Crystal*Fantasy: Draco'll figure it out soon enough =) Harry, on the other hand, well, he can be clueless at times… Thank you for the review! I'm glad you're enjoying the fic!
A random fan: thank you for the wonderful review!
Pseudonym: =) Lucius has always been an intriguing figure to me – I've always seen him as a survivor, and never truly evil – but also, definitely not a saint =) I like believable, gray characters – they're more believable that way. Thank you again for reviewing!
Belle: Thank you for another wonderful review!!
Shaelin: Thank you for the review! Am gettin' them out asap =)
MikeLocalFreak6: thank you!!!
Relle: I'm glad you're still enjoying the story! Thank you again for another lovely review!
AngelofShadows: Thank you so much for the wonderful review!