Title: Harry Potter and the Summer's Secret

Author: Japhu

Pairing: HPSS

Rating: R

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Harry Potter and his world and don't make any money with it.

Summary: For one week in summer Harry disappears without trace. When he comes back he claims to have no memory. But something happened and it changed him. It remains to be seen if for the better or the worse. (will be HPSS)

Category: action/adventure/angst

Feedback: highly appreciated

Chapter 13 - Sleeping Soundly

Plunged into all consuming darkness, a boy was running. He did not know how long, or to where his feet directed him to, but he knew that he needed to get away from the oppressing gloom, from the shadows and the hidden watchers. He followed a nearly untraceable glimmer of – not light, but… less darkness. What he could see was rather gutfelt. Far away something violet flickered in the shadows, but there were no recognizable landscapes or other marks to orientate oneself by, nothing that attracted an observer's attention as peculiar, except the fighting.

Trees and houses were burning in a dark violet fire, almost too dark to distinguish it from its surroundings. Ever so slowly the boy stepped closer. He watched attentively with wide eyes, for there was no natural light, only the violet glow, which made him see at least the silhouettes of buildings, ruins mostly, some of them abandoned, others, like glowing torches, reaching far up into the sky. Where was this place?

There was the crackle of flaring flames; distorted shouts and screams full of pain echoed widely throughout the night, and a lot of energy – an enormous whirlwind of magic – hovered above the place and made his heart stop with anxiety. Once and again a low crouching figure seemed to rush past, keeping itself in the darkest of shadows, merging with the everpresent blackness like ghosts through the walls. Why was he here now?

The boy did not recognize anything. He had never seen a town like that, with towers that seemed too wispy to stand upright and buildings – or ruins of buildings – with high archways sculpted out of the mountain itself. Ornaments and mosaics under his feet led him to the burning center of the town. It was breathtaking even now, barely illuminated by the dim violet light, wrapped up into an all devouring fire that would leave nothing but some soot covered foundations in the morning – if something like morning existed in this world. Still, the boy looked awed as he stepped through a churning sea of blood, and he memorized the sight, everything was encased with an unreal haze of diffuse, violet brightness.

The boy had no weapon, no way to defend himself against danger, though, he seemed oddly separated from this place and time. He felt no fear, none of the people took notice of him when he lightly stepped between them. The screams did not reach the part of his heart where his feelings should reside. Almost clinically he watched the dying and dead and took notice of dark robed men who searched through the tiniest holes for someone to kill. The boy knew with certainty that he had seen them before, but there was nothing in his mind but a black hole. He thought about it as he walked closer to the remains of the small, burning town; just like anything else, though, it did not really worry him. But where did he come from?

A slightly crooked, otherworldly smile suddenly bloomed on his face. The town, the magic, everything – it was just beautiful, and it called to him. The magic here had another consistence than he was used to, but he answered nonetheless. It lived. It was real, and it filled him with unimaginable joy. The boy raised his head with gleaming eyes, gazing above the dying people to the highest spire, laughing. For a long time the magic and he were completely balanced, and it felt great and too precious to loose. However, nothing good could last forever. When the screams merged back from nothing and thick clouds of smoke bared his sight of the blazing town the boy knew that he was watched again, and he felt a forgotten presence in his mind awake.

Suddenly there was pain. He felt it deep inside his bones – a ripping, biting and burning all through his body. He gave a jerk when the heated whispering of flames skimmed over his body, and the people around him – all at once – turned to him with glowing eyes, and he screamed.

He ran again, faster than ever before, but the town itself seemed to float back in the same pace the boy glided soundlessly forward. He was not able to leave this place. Slowly trepidation crept up his spine, because the watcher was there again and the boy had no means to hide anymore. People held his feet with claw like hands as he tried to pass them: He slipped in the blood, stumbling and falling more than once. He had to fight to keep going, and all of a sudden he stood amidst a wall of fire and had nowhere to go anymore.

Drawing heavy breaths, the boy stopped and looked hastily for a way out. He found none. In all directions a violet blaze surrounded him. Even above him a dome of fire took his sight to the sky. The air in his lungs was burning. Separated from the rest of the world, his heart pounded ominously in his chest – and amidst that scene from hell stood a man clad in red and violet robes, the hood pulled deeply into his face. with a dark gloved hand he beckoned the boy to come closer.

Harry tilted his head. He was not scared anymore, but curious to look under the hood. He reared back in surprise when he found himself at the receiving end of an darkly amused, twinkling blue eyed stare, a sinister glow in the wildly flickering light of fire, and a baritone voice vibrated in his bones as the man squeezed Harry's upper arm in a painful grip.

"I see you, boy!" he said.

Harry screamed. He shot awake with a trembling gasp to find himself scrutinized by another pair of twinkling blue eyes. Merlin! Harry freed himself with a rough jerk of his arm and slumped inelegantly back, an involuntarily shudder running down his spine.

"My boy? Is everything alright?" The man sounded truly worried. Harry drew deep breaths and tried to calm himself. It had been a dream! Had it been a dream?

"I hope it was not I that frightened you?" A fool's grin accompanied the inquisitive stare and belied the solemn look. What was his mask? Fool or foe? Harry forced a polite smile onto his face.

"I'm fine, thanks." Harry mumbled and slid farther back. "Just an exciting dream, sir." Hopefully. Harry tried to be inconspicuous and smiled reassuringly, as if the crazy wizard would pay attention. He suppressed a shudder. It had not felt more real or unreal then other dreams. It certainly had not felt like one of his former visions. And that man? Whoever it had been it was not a snake faced bastard like Voldemort – not on the outward, at least. It certainly had not been Voldemort himself. Harry could still feel the alien presence reverberate in his skull, and it was another silently watching presence, but not Tom who was back now, too, startled and curiously alarmed.

Out of the corner of his eye Harry could see Ron and Hermione watching with concerned faces. However, Ron's incredulous stare was mainly directed at the ridiculous clad man – open mouthed and wide eyed. Harry glanced up cautiously and waited what the man would do. Why did that peacock not realize that nobody was interested in his crazy talk? Harry flinched when the wizard's eyes gleamed with mirth.

"Well, my boy." Harry grimaced. "If everything's fine with you, make sure that you and your friends are ready to change into your robes. We'll arrive soon." A delighted grin spread over the wizard's face as he gleefully rubbed his hand. "It's really exciting to go to Hogwarts, finally."

"Yes." Harry growled and wished the man away with all his might. The wizard only blinked at Harry's rude answer, but his eyes sparkled.

"I'd really like to talk to you some more, my boy." he sighed with an expression of regret, as though he could not imagine Harry to prefer anything above his company. "But I fear I have to go securing the train, as Severus has the front and absolutely refuses to come to the compartments at the back."

Ron snorted and Harry narrowed his eyes, impatient to see him gone. Nobody could be that dense! It was either that Snape did not want to have anything to do with the sixth and seventh years who mostly sat in the last wagons, or he could not stand a certain wizard's presence. Personally, Harry thought the latter more likely, because Snape never had been one to miss an opportunity to kick a student to the ground. Harry and Ron glanced knowingly at each other and even Hermione looked incredulous, before she turned her attention to her pack of books and avoided looking at the teacher alltogether and give away what was plainly written on her face.

The wizard moved backwards to the door. Then he surveyed the whole compartment with a searching eye and jerked his attention back to Harry.

Harry grimaced inwardly, still feeling slightly out of place. Pictures of his dream still ghosted through his head and his arm hurt where the man of his dream had gripped him. Dreams were crap. His dreams above all. He did not want to think about its meaning should it have been real. It probably only hurt, because that crazy fool of a teacher had shook him awake so roughly.

Harry did not know what he should do about a dream like that. Nothing seemed right, nothing made sense of anything. But to whomever would ask him, Harry could honestly say that it had not been a dream of Voldemort. He did not think so, at least, as Tom still was safely put away. Harry had felt his anxiety along with his. Aware of his future teacher's assessing stare Harry forced himself not to shift in his seat and to return the piercing look with curious innocence.

"Are you sure, my boy, that you feel well?" His imploring gaze never wandered from Harry's eyes while he stopped his retreat at the door.

"Yeah." Ron nodded and gazed doubtfully up and down the wizard's robe. "You were moaning in your sleep, but we couldn't wake you. Hermione even tried—" Harry just looked at Hermione. She bit her lip and poked a finger into Ron's side to make him stop. Ron yelped surprised, frowned shortly and turned back to his inspection, but he kept his mouth shut. Harry sighed. His friends had it in today with talking in front of people of things that were none of their business. What was it? Fate? With a flourish bow towards them, the wizard left after a last questioning glance to Harry.

As soon as the door had snapped in Harry took a deep breath to let Ron know exactly what he thought about this stupid staring and forgetting his mouth. Hermione was faster. Harry swallowed wordlessly, suppressed everything not Gryffindor and looked at her above his glasses, listening patiently to her explanation.

"You didn't look too well a short while ago. We thought it better to let you sleep." She looked uncomfortable saying so, not sure about her friend's reaction. "He just came in, introduceed himself and told us to get ready to exit. He asked if everything was well."

"Yeah, before we could do or say something the… he… just turned to you all of a sudden and woke you. He didn't even really touch you, but you shot up as if he had hit you." Ron thought aloud, puzzled.

"You are a bit white around the nose, Harry. Are you sure you're alright?" Hermione asked worriedly.

"Yes. I'm just a bit jumpy." Harry's arm still stung painfully; and he had not touched him? "How would you feel when that coot would stand in inch from your face and grinned at you as if you were his birthday cake?" Sighing quietly, Harry looked out of the window.

"What was that guy by the way?" The redhead stared at the closed door. He blinked from moment to moment as if waking from a daze. Before Hermione could open her mouth to tell them that it obviously only gave one possibility, Harry took the lead in a much less dictionary tone of voice, all the while rubbing his arm unconsciously.

"That, my friends," Harry announced irritated, "is Dumbledore's next excuse for our newest Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

"That, that—" Ron stuttered.

"Peacock?" Harry suggested calmly with a raised brow, staying seated and just turned from the window for a moment. Ron snorted, momentarily forgetting his bad mood.

"Well." Ron blinked. "I wanted to say canary, but peacock hits it well."

"Quite. And you wanted to say?"

"I'm just… I can't believe Dumbledore's allowing him to even enter the school, much less teaching! What is he supposed to do? Showing off his robes to blind us?"

"Boys! Don't talk about teachers like that!" Hermione interrupted them with an indignant scowl.

"I'll admit that the first impression was not the best." Hermione gave both of them a dark look. "However, he might be really good in what he teaches, and his ignorance in reading people's… intentions doesn't have to mean that he's a bad teacher."

"You're right, Hermione." Harry looked up at her thoughtfully and smiled brightly. "He could talk us to death after all."

"Yeah, some of the Slytherins at least." Ron added grinning. "It would safe us a lot of trouble."

"Yep. However, it's a much better beginning than Umbridge's methods. Now we might at least get some practice when running to hide from him."

"What a funny fool! Really." Ron shook his head.

Harry bit his lip to keep from giving his own account on what a fool that teacher really was. That man was so obviously wrong that Harry began to ask himself what the idiot hoped to achieve with this act, for an act it had to be. Not even Lockhart had been that stupid and nobody could be more a fool than he. Harry shook his head. It was just due to the magic that Harry could see through his facade. To everyone else the man really was only a nutcase with twinkling blue eyes. Harry could not get this fact out of his head. He would have to be extra careful not to show his powers accidently in his future DADA teacher's presence.

Whatever his dream – whether the DADA teacher had to do something with it or not – more people than Dumbledore and this false fool had blue eyes. However, the fact remained that the wizard's magic and his appearance did not work with each other at all. It was as if there were two different people in one body. Harry did not really believe that possible, though, for it would be too much of an coincidence. First Quirrell, then – in a way – Harry himself and now that Bradarish guy, too. It was too much of a coincidence to be a coincidence. If one counted the probability for even one such occurrence it was just not possible that this guy was possessed. No, it was not that. So why did he pretend to be someone he was not?

Had the man seen something, felt something? Was that the reason he had been here that fast? Just in the right moment to wake him before… Harry shook his head. He was reading too much in his teacher's behavior. Maybe that man was a fool like Ron was thinking; but Harry could not help himself to disagree.

"He's not funny at all." And not a fool either. Harry lost his playfulness abruptly. That man was dangerous. He did not want his friends anywhere near that man, even if he could not tell them why. He had to give them something to work on, but he would do it later when he could read the guy better than now, and when he had some evidence for his suspicions.

"What do you mean?" Ron questioned and even Hermione looked up from her book she was immersed.

"That guy's like all of the bad eggs smashed together into a mixer, and what you get out is that mad bird – with the rest called Junas." Ron took his answer stoically, but Hermione frowned.

"Who's Junas?" was all Ron had to say, and with a blank glance he added: "And what's a mixer?"

"His just as crazy son, and an appliance to chop up different ingredients and to… well, mix them together." Harry said shortly to both questions. Watching Hermione working meticulously, he shrugged. "That guy's giving me a headache."

"Well, no wonder how he's looking." Ron got on excitedly. "And that name!" he went on without listening at all. "I bet you have memorized it already, eh Hermione?" The girl gazed at her friend as if she saw him for the first time and went back to her books, to sort them and pack them, before they had to get off the train. Ron would surely get his part to bear. Harry's lips twitched.

"How is that crap of a name pronounced anyway?" Ron scratched his chin, completely ignorant of anything else going on. "Bradararish? Braba—"

"Oh, Ron. It's really not that bad a name." Hermione waved impatiently her hand to stop him.

"And?"

"Bra-DA-ro-wicz. It's not that hard a name to speak."

"Witch?" Ron's voice climbed new heights. "That's a loony wizard. What a guy calls himself a witch?" He furrowed his brows. "And what's a Bradaro Witch?"

"Don't play dumb, Ron. Of course it doesn't mean 'witch'. It's just the way it sounds. I think it's something from Eastern Europe, maybe Poland or somewhere near there."

"Poland? Where the hell is Poland?"

"Ron! Don't you know anything?" She crossed her arms. "And I have said already that it's in Eastern Europe."

"Give in, Ron." Harry interrupted their bickering. "It's just a name. Call him peacock, if you don't like the other. Or dung ball or canary crap, whatever." He yawned tiredly and hoped that no more surprises where waiting for him on his way to Hogwarts. Ron and Hermione looked at each other worriedly.

"Are you alright, Harry?" Ron asked hesitatingly.

"I'm just tired." Harry yawned. "Snape wasn't that much fun, you know, and the summer's still sitting in my bones." His eyes closed. Before he drifted off he could hear Hermione rustling with some pages in some obscure book. He believed himself asleep already, lulled into slumber by the train's noises, when he heard her questioningly whispering.

"What's his given name? Did you hear it, Ron?" Ron's answer somewhat subdued, as if his mouth was busy chewing: "I have no clue, but I bet it's something colorful." Harry thought about answering, but he was more exhausted than before he had slept, and the rumbling of the train lulled him deeper into slumber.

"Harry! Don't fall asleep." Hermione's voice brought him back abruptly, just when he thought himself able to forget everything about dreams, visions and fate. From his earlier dream remained only a feeling of uneasiness that made him shift in his seat with tenseness. However, he had already forgotten most of it but the twinkling blue eyes.

"It's only a few minutes, Harry." Hermione still was not satisfied. "You need to change," she reminded him.

"Don't fret, Hermione. I'm up and about," Harry muttered and fished for his trunk. An instant later he looked apologetically at her, holding his open palm for her to see what he had to show.

"I can't reach my wand." Harry innocently winked at her. "Could you enlarge this, please?" He held his trunk out to her and took Hermione's lecture about carelessness and unnecessarily tempted danger with humor and a small hidden grin while he threw his old school robe over his shoulders and nodded once in a while, promising his friend to keep his wand ready at all times.