BEHIND EMERALD EYES

Confrontations

Broken words, flashes of unknown faces, streaks of light. Harry Potter awoke.

The bed sheets were twisted around his body from a night of thrashing under the covers. Perspiration covered his face and chest, his palms sweaty, trying to untangle himself from the bed. Finally succeeding, he stumbled to his feet, heart thumping erratically behind his ribcage.

Through the partly curtained windows, the sun had barely risen above the horizon. Birds could be heard singing, their tunes somewhat calming his frightened body. Slowly, his breath came and he covered his face with his hands. After a few moments, he swallowed shakily, and tiptoed from the room. The bathroom door shut silently behind him and with the faint morning light, he scrambled over to the mirror.

His hair was a mess, as usual. But his eyes were bloodshot and skin pale, clinging tightly to his bones. He couldn't stop his hands shaking, so he clamped them tightly over the cool basin. After spending a minute staring into his own eyes, he turned on the tap and washed his face with the cold water. Looking back up into his dripping face, the nights memories flashed across his eyes.

A blind terror was slowly ceasing his heart, squeezing, clamping its icy talons. Breath escaped his lungs and his skin crawled as if many ants were running across it. The hair on the back of his neck prickled and he suddenly felt the need to retch.

After disposing of his dinner in the toilet bowl, he wiped his mouth hastily with a shaking hand. His breath was steaming up the glass mirror, his vision becoming distorted and hazy. Harry turned and sat on the cracked, tiled floor, his back against the porcelain bathtub. There he sat for half an hour, head in hands, and knees pulled up to his chest. He stared blankly at his lap, the only noise being his unsteady, raspy breathing and the drip of water in the shower.

Thoughts were running through his mind; jumbled and half-finished, each one more terrifying than the last. The sun was now sitting amongst the trees, the scattered light playing across the room in a reddish haze.

"Voldemort," his voice was a low hiss and he spoke it with as much hatred as he could muster in his weakened state. The name hit each wall and rebounded back, fainter than before. Harry scrunched up his hands into fists, slamming them to the solid floor. He didn't flinch when a crack appeared in the white tiles, from the impact of his hand.

Voldemort. The man that had taken almost everything from him was back. There was no other explanation for his scar playing up and the faulty visions from the night before. Even at that moment, his scar was softly tingling, faint but present. Harry had thought that he would have been free from the terror that was Tom Riddle. How stupid had he been? Voldemort had said it himself, 'There is no escaping me, Harry, even if I die today, I will continue to plague you. Nothing can stop me.'

And so he had been right.

There was no running from Voldemort. During the five years that Harry had lived in solitude, away from his true home, there had been no throbbing scar or flashes of another's mind. It had been blank. But now, after he had finally returned, expecting to be able to live freely, He decided to make an appearance; beginning with the death of Dave.

"I'm so sorry Dave," Harry whispered, as a tear ran down his cheek. He didn't bother to wipe it away, as another raced it from the other eye. Slowly, he sobbed. The twenty-two year old man cried on the floor of his girlfriends home, broken and lost. Just as he had been five years ago. He felt so isolated and alone, once more haunted by the Dark Lord from beyond the grave.

Unbidden, a pair of clear sky eyes flashed through his mind, holding that familiar twinkle. The face of his headmaster, happy and alive swam before his vision. Harry clamped his eyes shut, pressing against them with his palms.

"Go away," he said, his voice breaking with pain. When he removed his hands, his eyes were wet and red, but still tears managed to slip down his cheeks. The headmaster looked down at him, from over the top of his half moon spectacles. And he smiled.

"Fancy a lemon drop?" Albus Dumbledore said, holding out a wrinkled hand, with a yellow sweet sitting in his palm. Harry sobbed loudly, and with a shaking hand reached up and took the lemon drop. He sucked his breath in quickly when his hand came into contact with the old man's hand and he let a sob escape him.

"H-how?" he stammered eyes wide and shimmering. The headmaster smiled, popping a lemon drop into his mouth.

"Ah," he said, "The many mysteries of life." Dumbledore smiled down at him and tapped his nose, eyes twinkling. Harry's shoulders started shaking and he let his hands drop uselessly.

"I killed you, I-I'm so sorry!" Harry stuttered, as the headmaster only stared down at him sadly.

"Oh, really? I must have been seeing things when I spotted Tom shoot the spell that took my life. Alas, old age can do that to you," Albus said, looking around the bathroom curiously as Harry struggled to comprehend what was happening. "I believe I know this place! It looks remarkably familiar."

"I-It's the Burrow," Harry said, painfully aware he could see the opposite wall through Dumbledore's midnight robes.

"Ah, yes!" The headmaster said, "Now I remember."

"Sir, wh-what are y-you doing here? Yo-you're d-dead!" Harry said, tears streaking down his face as he covered his face with his hands. There was a silence, in which the transparent old man looked down at his old, broken student.

"For many reasons, one is the fact that you need guidance. And another is that down here I can actually taste my lemon drops!" Dumbledore said merrily, placing another sweet in his mouth. "Now, on with the guiding. Even if I am only a figment of your imagination, thought up to help you, I still contain my own mind and words. Ok…hmmm, what to say – what to say?" the old man pondered, running a hand through his long white beard. "Ah, yes! You, my dear boy, did not kill me. It was Tom, plain and simple. I do not blame you in any way, for it was not your fault. Quite the opposite actually," Dumbledore said chuckling softly.

Harry looked up at him, eyes stinging from the many raw emotions and running tears. "I knew what I was doing," he continued as if Harry was not even there. "It was my own choice to die for you, as if I had not – who knows what might have happened? Voldemort might actually be still alive."

Harry removed his hands from his face, "What?" he stammered and felt his stomach drop as he noticed that the bathroom was once again empty. Harry looked around in disbelief, his mouth hanging open. The steady drip of the shower returned and he looked out of the window at the rising sun.

"Thanks," he whispered, as another tear rolled down his cheek.

He continued to sit in the small bathroom until noises from downstairs drew his attention. He sat on the tiles for a moment longer, trying to get his breathing back on track. For the last hour, after the hallucination of Albus Dumbledore had vanished, Harry had sorted through his thoughts and memories, bringing back torrents of pain and sorrow. He remembered each visit to the headmaster's office and each piece of advice the old man had given him.

Over his years at Hogwarts, Harry had mixed feelings over Dumbledore. From awe to disbelief, annoyance to understanding, then dislike to equality. The late headmaster had made him feel equal, as if he was the same, in every aspect. In the end, they had become close friends, and Dumbledore had become a sort of grandfather and mentor. And loosing him was like loosing a part of himself.

It was almost like loosing Sirius. Harry had known Dumbledore since the very beginning. Since he had discovered he was a wizard. The headmaster had mostly always been there to guide him and lend information, even if it was hollow and useless. He had begun to dislike the headmaster in his fifth year because of Dumbledore distancing himself from Harry, and never looking him in the eye. Harry had not understood why he had done that until half way through his sixth year, when the nightmares and visions became so intense that he had to go to bed each night with a goblet of dreamless sleep potion.

Every day he would get savage headaches, and his scar would be constantly stinging. Even at one point it spilt open; it baffled Madam Pomfrey for months, and it probably still did to this day. Harry had been forced to learn Occlumency and Legiliumcy, in a desperate attempt to block out Voldemort. But he had been forced to study it with Severus Snape and for a while, their hatred got in the way of proper teaching. After a few months of agonising headaches and collapses, Harry and Snape managed to put aside their mutual dislike, for the sake of killing Voldemort.

During the summers, he had been forced to undergo serious training, to build up his body and soul. He had demanded Hermione, Ron and Ginny be allowed to train with him, as their friendship put them at great risk. So during his sixth year, he had to continue through his classes acting as if everything was normal, while at nights he trained once more.

Quidditch became his only release. The feel of the wind whipping through his hair and the weightlessness of being in the sky, made all his troubles disappear. It was only him and his Firebolt, floating along the clouds. But as soon as his feet touched earth, everything would flood back: his training, the war and his destiny.

Soon, thoughts of surviving the war grew grim and he desperately tried to spend as much time with his friends as humanly possible. When his sixth year was coming to a close, Voldemort had tried to bring the battle to Hogwarts, but only managed to get to Hogsmeade. The villagers had been unprepared, and many lost their lives because of it.

Harry and the DA had quickly gone to the scene, fighting the Death Eaters with a savage fury. The professors and Order Members had fought as well, with few losses. At the end of the night, Voldemort gave up, Disapparating away with his loyal servants. That night had been a terrible blow to the Wizarding world. Hogsmeade had almost completely fallen, and if it hadn't been for the students and the Order, it would have been no more than a street of burning shops and dead bodies.

Many people had fled after the strike, afraid Voldemort would attack again. But others stayed, in hopes of rebuilding the historic town. After all, the safest place was Hogwarts and as long as they were only a carriage ride away from Albus Dumbledore, they were safe.

The headmaster proved to be the authority figure he was, as he spoke to the community, quelling their fears and placing hope once more in their hearts.

And he continued to believe in Harry.

He believed Harry was able to rise and destroy Voldemort for the last time. His belief never wavered, and he stuck by the Boy-Who-Lived right to the end, until he was no longer able to support him: until his own life had been taken. And even then, he continued to help him. While Harry had watched the headmaster fall swiftly to the ground, a voice spoke in his head.

"I believe in you."

And that was what had given him to strength to finish Voldemort for the final time. It was what carried him through the pain and endless darkness. The headmaster had given his last advice.

Harry let out a low, rattling breath, remembering the time after Voldemort had fallen. Immediately after the Dark Lord fell to the grass below, with dark blood spilling from his fatal wound and his eyelids shuddering closed, hiding the blood-red eyes of Harry's nightmares. And Harry had watched Voldemort's chest rise for the last time and as the final foul breath left his lipless mouth. And when he was sure the Dark Lord wasn't going to rise, he dropped the bloodstained sword to the grass and turned to look at the fallen form of Albus Dumbledore.

Even in death, the old man looked majestic. With his flowing silver hair and beard spilled out on the bloody grass, his face pale and peaceful, and his wand still clamped with a wrinkled hand. His half-moon spectacles lay shattered at his side.

Harry had collapsed at his side, hand reaching out to touch the headmaster's calm yet still face. Silent tears dribbled from his tired eyes, catching the blood on his cheeks and running past his chin. His own hands were bloodstained and cut, his face no better. But he couldn't tear his eyes away from Dumbledore's closed lids.

It had been the most painful experience in his entire life. It had felt like his heart was being ripped from his chest, letting him slowly bleed to death. A thousands knives were stabbing into his skin, piercing through bone, digging into his soul. To finally be rid of Voldemort at such a great price was a tremendous blow to him. It felt as though the world had ended, as if Voldemort had won.

Back in the bathroom, Harry sobbed loudly, covering his face with his shaking hands. The vision of Dumbledore lying lifeless on the grounds of Hogwarts came fresh to his mind. Seeing the headmaster's face so still and blank, so lifeless, brought unnatural amounts of pain cascading down on him. He couldn't breath. The room suddenly seemed to be closing in on him, and he briefly thought himself back in his old cupboard. And an icy cold wind started to slowly freeze his tears and heart as he remembered those words.

"I believe in you."

And the meaning of those words echoed through his head and he finally found air entering his lungs. The room expanded and the sunlight allowed his tears to drip freely from his chin, and be dissolved into his dark shirt. The vision of Dumbledore from earlier came unbidden to his mind, and his words surfaced clearly audible.

"It was my own choice to die for you, as if I had not – who knows what might have happened? Voldemort might actually be still alive."

The sunlight brightened and Harry brushed away his tears. The words continued to ring through his head as he pondered their meaning. After a few moments, he chuckled darkly. Dumbledore was saving him from depression once again, even though he had been long buried for five years.

A knock sounded on the door, and Harry jumped in surprise. "Harry? Are you in there?" It was Hermione and she sounded concerned. Hastily climbing to his feet, ignoring the fact that he couldn't feel his lower back, he splashed water on his face. After wiping it with a towel, his eyes still looked a little blood shot and his face was slightly pale, but he couldn't hide out in here until he looked normal again. Hermione was standing just outside the door.

"Erm – hang on!" he said, glancing at his face once again, before flattening his hair and opening the door. Hermione's concerned brown eyes met his and she pushed inside, shutting the door behind her.

"What's wrong?" she asked immediately. Harry sighed; there was no dodging by her.

"Nothing," he said smiling sadly, as she glared quickly at him.

"Harry Potter, I've known you for over ten years, please, talk to me?" she said, taking his hand lightly, and squeezing it. Sighing, he sat down on the edge of the bathtub, bringing her with him.

"I had a dream," he said as she gasped, a hand flying to her mouth. "It was kind of – disjointed. There were flashes of faces and voices, that was about all. But my scar hurt again…" he said painfully as she squeezed his hand tightly.

"Was it bad?" she said in barely a whisper. Shaking his head he said, "No, it's was as faint as the others. But just the fact that it has feeling is what bothers me."

"I know. It's really strange, Harry. Maybe –"

"No, maybes, Hermione. I know it has something to do with this new Dark Lord, and they must have something to do with Voldemort, otherwise there would be no reason for my scar to hurt. I just need to know what the connection is!" he said angrily, staring savagely at the mirror, wincing as it cracked.

"We all want to know who this new Dark Lord is," Hermione said, repairing the mirror with a wave of her wand. "I've searched all records on Voldemort and these new attacks. But I can't find any matching leads! There's nothing suggesting they even is a connection!" she said, sighing loudly.

"Don't worry, something should come up. I'll look into it as well. Anyway," he said, changing the subject; he didn't really feel like explaining about his hallucination or breakdown, "When are we going to get our things for teaching?" Hermione seemed to know he was trying to change the subject but didn't press the topic.

"I was thinking of going today, because I need to get a few other things from my old apartment and maybe even look for a new one," she said standing up, pulling him up after her. "Have you decided where you're going to stay?"

"Not really, maybe I'll look for a new apartment as well, or else room in with you," he said, giving her a lopsided grin. She laughed.

"That would only work if you're not as messy as Ron; if that's even possible…," she said as the two of them laughed, leaving the bathroom. Harry almost forgot about his dream and the appearance of Dumbledore, but the old headmaster's words still echoed in his head.

"It was my own choice to die for you, as if I had not – who knows what might have happened? Voldemort might actually be still alive."

Chuckling grimly, he thought 'That's one possible suspect out of the way; Voldemort is dead.' And straight from Dumbledore's mouth, even if he was only a figment of Harry's imagination, his words still sounded genuine.

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"Where have you been? I went looking for you before but couldn't find you! I sent Hermione to look for you almost half an hour ago!" Ginny said as they walked into the kitchen together, still holding hands. Harry smiled gratefully at Hermione as she squeezed his hand one last time before letting it go.

"Oh, he was just in the bathroom and we got engaged in a conversation about our plans for the day," Hermione said simply, sitting beside Ron and pinching a piece of his toast. Harry kissed Ginny on the cheek before sitting next to her. He looked over at Ron who made a fake gagging sound.

"Shut it, Ron!" Ginny said, passing Harry a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon, which he eagerly accepted. "So what are you two doing today?" she asked, sipping at a glass of orange juice.

"We're going into Diagon Alley and getting our work things, books and what not. Then we're heading back to France for a while to get some more of my things, and then go looking for an apartment," Hermione said, buttering herself some toast.

"Nonsense, you both can stay here!" Molly Weasley said, as she entered the room.

"Thanks, Molly, but we wouldn't want to intrude. Besides, it would be better for me not to stay here, with this new Dark Lord and everything," Harry said, remembering the fate of his last home.

"Don't be silly. You're more than welcome here!" Mrs Weasley said, bustling over to the sink.

"I think Harry's right, Molly," Hermione said, nodding, getting surprised looks from all at the table. "Not in that way, but we're older now and need to live on our own." Harry nodded and grinned at her, than at Molly who was looking quite apprehensive over the whole ordeal.

"You should know, though, that there will always be a bed for you here," she said warmly.

"Well, I'm off to work," Ron said, standing and placing his dishes in the sink. "Dad said I can start a little later today," he added at Harry's curious look. "Come get me when you find a place to stay, and if you can't find anywhere, you can always stay at my place."

"You're place? I thought you lived here still?" Harry said a little confused. Ron snorted in laughter.

"Are you insane? I moved out a few months after Hogwarts. It's the single life for me!" he said in glee, smirking at Harry's astonished expression.

"Who cooks for you?" Harry asked bemusedly.

Ron scowled. "I am quite capable of getting my own meals!"

"Or you're quite capable of coming here every night to eat!" Ginny said, laughing while Ron's face reddened.

"Stop distracting me!" Ron said loudly, "I'm going to be late!" With that, he kissed his mother on the cheek and disapparated with a crack. Harry was still laughing when Ron vanished, and gulped down his juice.

"Yeah, I should be going as well," Ginny said standing and placing her plate in the sink just as Ron had. "The kids will be arriving soon."

Harry stared at her in puzzlement. "Kids? I thought you worked with Charlie?" he asked as Ginny raised an eyebrow at him.

"I worked with Charlie for a few months but the dragons didn't like me very much. I now work in a childcare centre in outer London. It's for magical children of course, when their parents are off working I look after them," she said cheerily.

"Oh, Ok…" Harry said, glad she was working a little closer to home. "I might stop by later today, what's it called?" he asked her.

"Hippogriff's Heart," she answered, picking up a leather bag from the top of a cabinet near the fridge. "You can't miss it, just follow the main road out of the city and it's on the right. I'll look forward to seeing you," she said sweetly, planting a kiss on his lips. When she pulled away, Harry was grinning stupidly.

"Bye," she said before disappearing with a crack.

"Me and Harry should be going soon, before the alley gets too busy," Hermione said, helping out with the dishes in the sink. Harry nodded and placed his plate on top of the pile.

"Yeah, thanks for letting me stay here for so long, Molly," Harry said, hugging Mrs Weasley tightly. When he pulled away, he was surprised to see tears in the woman's eyes.

"It's just so good to have you all back," she sobbed, wiping away the tears. "Feel free to come by anytime, now won't you?" she said as Harry and Hermione nodded quickly, both smiling.

After they had gathered their things for the day, including their Gringotts keys, they disapparated away from the Burrow's kitchen, arriving in the Apparation point in Diagon Alley.

"Going to get money first?" Harry said to Hermione as they moved quickly away, glad the streets were still empty this time of day.

"Yes, we should," she said as the two of them walked side by side along the winding alley, shops just opening on either side. They soon caught sight of the grand Wizarding bank Gringotts and made their way up the marble steps and through the double doors. The goblins greeted them inside and showed them to an empty cart. Hermione clutched at his arm as the goblin readied to take off.

"I hate these things," she said, squealing when they quickly descended into the deep bowels of the bank. They continued down, stopping at Hermione's vault to let her pick up some gold. She had all her money from the Gringotts bank in France moved to the one in Britain, which Harry found was quite a lot. They soon took off again, going deeper than before. The cart lurched to a stop at Harry's vault and the two of them and the goblin piled from the carriage.

But when the doors opened, revealing the contents of his vault, he almost fainted. The chamber had been expanded at least four times and it was completely full of golden Galleons, silver Sickles and bronze Knuts. Even Hermione looked shocked and they stood staring at it for at least ten minutes before the goblin asked if something was wrong.

"Wrong? What? I – where did all this gold come from? It can't all be mine!" he said in disbelief, his eyes scanning the vault as if it was alive.

"Everything is in order, Mr Potter. Much interest has collected over the years and certain inheritances have been passed," the goblin said, curling its brown lip.

"Inheritances?" Harry said dumbly, wondering what was going on.

"Yes, inheritances," the goblin said, "From one Sirius Black and Albus Dumbledore."

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Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter and never will.

Hey…duh, duh, duh! See, I told you I would post a long chapter when I got 200 reviews! Which happened to be a few hours ago and I realised I hadn't even started this chapter. But I think it came out OK, do you agree? I wasn't going to put that Dumbledore-hallucination thing in, because it seemed a little odd. But, oh well, I kept it there.

Oh yeah, those things I told you the last chapter about what was coming soon, wasn't applying to this chapter alone. They will be spaced out over them all, which I don't know how many there will be yet.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed, you're the greatest and thanks to CharliesMommy who was the two hundredth reviewer! This chapter is dedicated to you!

Please review!

Bye

DW