~*Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling deserves all credit*~
When Nightmares Are A Good Thing
Chapter 7: Genealogy
Long into the morning, Harry thought over the events of what had just happened. True, the nightmare was horrible but they had been happening every time he tried to sleep so Harry considered them a part of his normal everyday life. It was the part of the night when his Uncle whipped with a belt until he was very much awake and bloody for screaming, that was bothering him.
Despite Uncle Vernon's fears, Harry had absolutely no intentions of sharing that information with anyone, if he could help it. Whatever his feelings for Dumbledore were, he had to agree that he was possibly safer inside the house of his mother's relatives. Besides, Harry knew that the majority would hand him sympathy on a platter, that is, if they cared at all.
He couldn't really blame his Uncle for being angry at having his sleep interrupted. The belt was unnecessary, though. The way Harry looked at it, the whipping was probably deserved in one way or another. He couldn't really help the nightmare, but perhaps the beating was earned from some other non-related incident and Uncle Vernon was just the lucky guy who got to punish Harry for his transgressions the past year. Memories of his behavior with his friends, his selfishness, and the Department of Mysteries came flooding back to mind.
Harry gave a start when the thump of Dudley clambering down the stairs was heard. The five hours since the belt incident had passed before Harry could even really realize it, as he was lost in thought.
Improvision was used when it came to Harry's morning routine. Obviously, he wasn't about to pop in the kitchen for some coffee and marmalade toast. Therefore, Harry decided to attempt conjuring. The mug came easy, but the coffee wouldn't appear when he willed it to. A second mug then appeared in order for Harry to have a container for his coffee grinds and another for the water.
When he discovered that, for the time being, it was best to only conjure simple items, Harry magiked all the things he needed to make breakfast in his room so that he could eat a little bit before he started his exercise.
Push-ups made the skin on his back stretch painfully around the belt wounds but Harry was able to perform all of his repetitions. Sit-ups were achieved through the pain by lying down on top of an old t-shirt on his bed. When Harry would come to the part of the exercise where his back touched the bed, he would stop, hovering above the mattress and denying his skin the painful contact.
There was about four of the whelps on his back that had been struck with enough force behind the belt that they were open wounds.
Seeing that his blood-wiping towel was still slightly saturated with wet and dry blood, Harry fetched his book that contained some household spells. After finding the spell he was looking for, Harry mentally performed the incantation on the t-shirt that spelled it clean before dirtying it with the blood from his back.
After Harry had successfully performed cleaning charms on his bed and himself, Harry dressed into some of his baggy leftover clothes and settled down (as comfortably as he could with the pain from his back) at his desk to continue looking up all the charms, spells, hexes, and curses that he had added to his list of things to practice.
By noon Harry had worked himself ragged learning all of his new spells forewords and backwards. Although he still was doing it all wandlessly, it seemed to be more difficult than it would be with a wand but the results were better by tenfold.
The only thing that was left on Harry's list of things to do was learn to apparate, but Harry decided to leave that lesson for tomorrow. Instead, he placed some strong silencing charms around his room and conjured up a potions station on his desk.
The first items he brewed were the dreamless sleep, calming, pain numbing, and energy potions. Harry discovered that without Malfoy pestering him and Snape criticizing him during class, potions were fun and easy! It reminded him a little of the times when he had cooked meals for the Dursleys. It was simple, really. Just count out your ingredients and make sure you add them in at the right time and in the right order while you maintain the correct stirring pattern and temperature.
Harry was just deciding which potion to make next when the sound of Uncle Vernon arrive home from work along with Aunt Marge. The boy scrambled about to place a strong locking charm on his door, just in case.
As the sound of the Dursley's voices enjoying dinner drifted upstairs, Harry flipped through the book of sixth year potion that he had received, albeit Fred and George.
The one that caught Harry's eye was a genetic potion that, when mixed with a drop of your blood, would etch you genealogy onto sheet of parchment, when splattered. As the teen had never heard of anyone but James and Lily, he was slightly curious.
An hour later Harry had brewed the potion flawlessly, achieved by his extreme caution. He paced across his room in a bout of nervousness. What would he find? Who was he related to? What had happened to them all? They were all dead, he knew that much. Dumbledore had made sure not to let him believe that he had long lost relations that would save him from the Dursleys.
He swallowed his conflicting emotions and took the knife that Sirius had given him for Christmas out of his trunk. True, the blade had melted for the unopenable door at the DoM, but the stub at the end was just what he needed. He held his arm over the enlarged parchment on his desk and slowly brought the stub of the knife over the scabbed wound on his wrist.
He ignored the stab of pain and allowed the cut to drip crimson blood onto the paper. Then he quickly held the vial of the geneal potion over the artwork of blood and let a few fat drops splatter into the crimson. Instantly, there was a flash and scrawled handwriting filled the page along with blue, pink, green, red, yellow and purple colors.
There at the bottom of the tree was his name: Harry James Potter written in purple. Above him, a blue line connected him to the middle of two names. The green name of James Harrison Potter had a green line linking him to the green name of Lily Marie Dumbledore. In shock, Harry jumped back from his desk in shock. DUMBLEDORE?! How was it possible for his mother to share a name with the headmaster?
Reluctant as to see what he might, his eyes drifted to the names above his mothers. There in plain green ink were the names of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore and Minerva Athena McGonagall.
When Nightmares Are A Good Thing
Chapter 7: Genealogy
Long into the morning, Harry thought over the events of what had just happened. True, the nightmare was horrible but they had been happening every time he tried to sleep so Harry considered them a part of his normal everyday life. It was the part of the night when his Uncle whipped with a belt until he was very much awake and bloody for screaming, that was bothering him.
Despite Uncle Vernon's fears, Harry had absolutely no intentions of sharing that information with anyone, if he could help it. Whatever his feelings for Dumbledore were, he had to agree that he was possibly safer inside the house of his mother's relatives. Besides, Harry knew that the majority would hand him sympathy on a platter, that is, if they cared at all.
He couldn't really blame his Uncle for being angry at having his sleep interrupted. The belt was unnecessary, though. The way Harry looked at it, the whipping was probably deserved in one way or another. He couldn't really help the nightmare, but perhaps the beating was earned from some other non-related incident and Uncle Vernon was just the lucky guy who got to punish Harry for his transgressions the past year. Memories of his behavior with his friends, his selfishness, and the Department of Mysteries came flooding back to mind.
Harry gave a start when the thump of Dudley clambering down the stairs was heard. The five hours since the belt incident had passed before Harry could even really realize it, as he was lost in thought.
Improvision was used when it came to Harry's morning routine. Obviously, he wasn't about to pop in the kitchen for some coffee and marmalade toast. Therefore, Harry decided to attempt conjuring. The mug came easy, but the coffee wouldn't appear when he willed it to. A second mug then appeared in order for Harry to have a container for his coffee grinds and another for the water.
When he discovered that, for the time being, it was best to only conjure simple items, Harry magiked all the things he needed to make breakfast in his room so that he could eat a little bit before he started his exercise.
Push-ups made the skin on his back stretch painfully around the belt wounds but Harry was able to perform all of his repetitions. Sit-ups were achieved through the pain by lying down on top of an old t-shirt on his bed. When Harry would come to the part of the exercise where his back touched the bed, he would stop, hovering above the mattress and denying his skin the painful contact.
There was about four of the whelps on his back that had been struck with enough force behind the belt that they were open wounds.
Seeing that his blood-wiping towel was still slightly saturated with wet and dry blood, Harry fetched his book that contained some household spells. After finding the spell he was looking for, Harry mentally performed the incantation on the t-shirt that spelled it clean before dirtying it with the blood from his back.
After Harry had successfully performed cleaning charms on his bed and himself, Harry dressed into some of his baggy leftover clothes and settled down (as comfortably as he could with the pain from his back) at his desk to continue looking up all the charms, spells, hexes, and curses that he had added to his list of things to practice.
By noon Harry had worked himself ragged learning all of his new spells forewords and backwards. Although he still was doing it all wandlessly, it seemed to be more difficult than it would be with a wand but the results were better by tenfold.
The only thing that was left on Harry's list of things to do was learn to apparate, but Harry decided to leave that lesson for tomorrow. Instead, he placed some strong silencing charms around his room and conjured up a potions station on his desk.
The first items he brewed were the dreamless sleep, calming, pain numbing, and energy potions. Harry discovered that without Malfoy pestering him and Snape criticizing him during class, potions were fun and easy! It reminded him a little of the times when he had cooked meals for the Dursleys. It was simple, really. Just count out your ingredients and make sure you add them in at the right time and in the right order while you maintain the correct stirring pattern and temperature.
Harry was just deciding which potion to make next when the sound of Uncle Vernon arrive home from work along with Aunt Marge. The boy scrambled about to place a strong locking charm on his door, just in case.
As the sound of the Dursley's voices enjoying dinner drifted upstairs, Harry flipped through the book of sixth year potion that he had received, albeit Fred and George.
The one that caught Harry's eye was a genetic potion that, when mixed with a drop of your blood, would etch you genealogy onto sheet of parchment, when splattered. As the teen had never heard of anyone but James and Lily, he was slightly curious.
An hour later Harry had brewed the potion flawlessly, achieved by his extreme caution. He paced across his room in a bout of nervousness. What would he find? Who was he related to? What had happened to them all? They were all dead, he knew that much. Dumbledore had made sure not to let him believe that he had long lost relations that would save him from the Dursleys.
He swallowed his conflicting emotions and took the knife that Sirius had given him for Christmas out of his trunk. True, the blade had melted for the unopenable door at the DoM, but the stub at the end was just what he needed. He held his arm over the enlarged parchment on his desk and slowly brought the stub of the knife over the scabbed wound on his wrist.
He ignored the stab of pain and allowed the cut to drip crimson blood onto the paper. Then he quickly held the vial of the geneal potion over the artwork of blood and let a few fat drops splatter into the crimson. Instantly, there was a flash and scrawled handwriting filled the page along with blue, pink, green, red, yellow and purple colors.
There at the bottom of the tree was his name: Harry James Potter written in purple. Above him, a blue line connected him to the middle of two names. The green name of James Harrison Potter had a green line linking him to the green name of Lily Marie Dumbledore. In shock, Harry jumped back from his desk in shock. DUMBLEDORE?! How was it possible for his mother to share a name with the headmaster?
Reluctant as to see what he might, his eyes drifted to the names above his mothers. There in plain green ink were the names of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore and Minerva Athena McGonagall.