Title: Harry Potter and the Summer's Secret

Author: Japhu

Beta Reader: Nagi

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 34 – Weekend's Malady

The first rays of sunshine already peered through the windows when Harry was just about to doze off, not quite able to stay wide-awake anymore, but not willing to fall asleep either. This morning found Harry in a bad mood. He had just closed his eyes minutes ago when the mattress shuddered under a new shifting weight. Harry growled and blinked his heavy lidded eyes open half-heartedly and right in time for Ron's grinning face to pop into sight.

"Still for studying, mate? The sun's out. It'd be more fun to feed Malfoy to the squid." It must really be late if even Ron was up and about. Harry just grunted. His headache was not getting any better and he would bet that the dark circles were back under his eyes.

"Urgh…!" Harry rubbed his head. "I'm not doing anything today." Constantly a yawn threatened to break free.

"Nightmares?"

"Yep, something like that." Harry gave a feeble swish with his hand and Ron's face popped out of his line of view in a matter of a blink. "Come back later, Ron. It's the weekend."

"If you think so." Ron seemed doubtful, but he was never one to easily miss an opportunity to eat. Harry did not need much will to convince Ron that it would be better if he did not wait for him, after all, he could still try to save some food for him and bring it up afterwards. That took care of any bad conscience Ron might have and he went happily to have his breakfast.

For Harry breakfast was a fast affair. He simply slept through it; at least that was what his friends believed. In reality he just lay in his bed and waited. He did not wait for something certain to happen, he just waited for the time to pass and for Tom to try another stunt Harry needed to fend off.

Sadly, Harry had come to realize that Tom was not giving in easily. Harry had barely enough time to catch a breath between the attacks, some just a tickle to remind Harry that Tom was there, others nearly enough to break the barrier.

It was taxing to keep himself ready for the attacks, not knowing if he would need to throw in everything he still had, or if it was just one of those things that Tom thought funny. Harry never knew beforehand, so he spend the night being ready at all times in a state of suspense; not very forthcoming to his physical health, and with time Tom would bear down his mind, too. And if Harry's concentration wavered even once…

Twice this night Harry found himself stumbling to the lavatory when he felt his dinner rising. Both times he had to sit down on the cold tiles to catch his breath afterwards, because he was hard on his limits of being overwhelmed. It was not the magic Tom sent his way, but the feelings that came through that were almost worse than the attacks itself, so much vileness and rotten pleasure that Harry wondered why he had not been sick in his stomach more often.

Morosely, Harry traced the half moon shaped marks in his palms and wondered how they had gotten there. So much had happened in so short a time. How could he think of everything? Sighing, Harry knew that it was just a matter of time until something important slipped by his mind and would make this year a hazard to get through.

Harry blinked tiredly, feeling more dead than alive, but it did not help anything. He had to start some time, even if Tom never stopped to use brutal force to break not only the barrier itself but Harry's will also. Self-pity would not help get it done; and no one would come to rescue the great Harry Potter from his fate. If he wanted this to be done the right way he would have to do it himself. So it was with a pounding head that Harry finally crawled up to begin what could no longer be delayed. Harry propped his elbows on his knees, his fists pressed against his burning eyes. He had so much to look at. Where should he begin?

He needed to find references to the ritual Voldemort had tried this summer. Harry would have to go through every step – theoretically of course – to see where the ritual had gone wrong and why. Then he would be especially friendly to Madam Pince and find a friend who would not mind him finishing one of the library-bound books very quietly in some corner even after the library had officially closed. His first aim was the restricted section. He could not remember having heard the name of the ritual, but he was certain that it would be found only in the restricted section if at all. Harry doubted that he could find something about dark soul binding spells, soul changing or exorcising curses (and whatever other words there were to use in this particular happenstance) in books that were accessible to first years.

Harry would have to see if he could use this ritual for his own purpose, though he rather doubted that, as he did not want to possess another body and throw out the original soul in doing so. Maybe it was more like exorcism, though that brought rather bad images to his mind from that film Dudley had once seen late at night when his parents had been to bed earlier. Harry had poked his head through the door into the living room, very curious as to what sweet Duddikins could do that was forbidden even to him. Anyway, final result of this adventure had been nightmares and a wet bed for Dudley and much fun for Harry, though he himself had had vivid dreams for some nights – but luckily not as vivid as his cousins'. Long speech, less thought, Harry did not really want to do anything like that. Never mind that he would be hard pressed to find something that came even close to a priest. Harry would be sure to search for other ways to find a ritual that banished Tom in every essence not just from his body but also from this world.

However, just as important as to find the right way to get rid of Voldemort was Hogwarts. Everything about bonding and anything related to that would give a lot of material for dozens of years, not to say that anything of that would give any clues about buildings that initiated a bond, or at least something that was disturbingly similar to that.

Then there was his magic in general. Was it a normal occurrence to be able to see magic, or to feel it in a way that it made you crumble to the ground when you visited places like Diagon Alley or Hogwarts?

There would probably be nothing about the Red Robes in any book. He still had to find a way to find out more about them. Even Dumbledore seemed to be much more interested than he generally would let on to any other matter.

If Harry brooded over what topic to start with until eternity caught up he would get nothing done. In the end was one topic as good as the other with which to begin – and he must not forget Hermione. Harry grimaced. He would actually have to read 'Hogwarts, A History' now, because there was hopefully something of use to read on the castle's origins, though he would take the library's edition rather than ask Hermione for her own copy. Some questions were better never asked, lest he had to think of a reasonable answer.

Harry bit his teeth and crawled over to his trunk. He had put the little bag McGonagall had given him in there rather carelessly. Maybe he would skim over his new books first to see if they actually held things that were of interest and still new to him. Harry did not have to search for long, as it lay right on top of everything else. All Harry needed to do was a little enlargening. It was his luck that he had practiced that one beforehand. He would not like it very much to have to think of an excuse why his school books were now either so small that they would never be found or successfully hit with a functioning enlarging charm, or why they had been ripped to shreds.

Harry did not want to tempt fate, so he started easy. He took one of the small books out, held it curiously between two fingers and grinned. It had just the right size for that Ginny-doll of Sinje's.

On this one single book his charm worked rather well, though it was still hard to concentrate his magic, especially with the things Tom could come up with at any time. This time, Harry did not bother to use his wand. He sighed. That was just another topic he needed to look into before the year was over. Wandless magic.

Finally having enough of doing things the small way, Harry gripped the bag to have a better aim for his magic without lifting it up and enlarged the whole thing at once. It was easily done. The more power he could actually put into a spell, the less need for him to hold back what was too much and the less danger to screw up when his concentration lessened or was – as of now – otherwise occupied.

Harry was somewhat curious what books they had this year. He hoped that Brado did not have his own band of books full of accomplishments other people had done. What fell into his line of view though was something else.

It was with a sad smile that Harry took out his Firebolt. Right, Dumbledore had said that he could keep it, even if he could not play anymore. Before nostalgia could come up, Harry shoved the broom under his bed. He was sure that a fast broom could come in handy; at least he would need it if he did not have it within reach anymore. Harry would bet on that.

With a last glance towards it Harry turned back to the books and piled them up very neatly. Hermione would be proud of him. He paged through them with only half an eye. He already knew most of the spell work and charms, though he would still need to read on about bits of the theory. Harry just knew to cast them and the result they brought when it succeeded as well as when it failed. Vernon had proven that alright.

The potions book was the only one he did not even glance at. As soon as he had figured it out it wandered back in his trunk. Harry did not intend to pacify the old coot by actually studying that subject. Snape had agreed – as voluntarily as that may have been – to take Harry into the class, and he should see that the cauldron stayed in one piece. It was not Harry's to worry about ruined potions. The more the better in his opinion.

Half an hour later Harry was biting his lip in concentration, his steadily pounding headache pushed back into the back of his mind a continuous companion and reminder that he had no time to waste. Leaning back at the bedpost with a parchment propped up on his knees, Harry tried to think of everything that needed looking into. He actually made two lists, one for himself with everything important and split into first and second priority, and another one with those topics he could possibly persuade Hermione to look at inconspicuously.

He read over it a few times and when he could not think of something else he held it back and found that he would not even have time to attend meals and go to classes, not to mention that he would probably get little to no sleep during the whole year if he wanted to actually research everything he had written down. Harry shook his head and forced himself to stop thinking about failure. Last but not least Harry put a simple illusionment charm onto the parchment. Now it read in rather untidy handwriting 'Quidditch moves for Seekers'. That was even simpler than an engorgement charm, not because it took more power, but because Harry had used it much often this summer to get into places where certain identifications were necessary. Grinning, Harry helped himself up and put the parchment onto his bedside table. Where better to hide something than in plain sight? It was not as if he had dozens of enchanted parchments lying around so that someone would get suspicious.

Harry glanced at the watch. Breakfast must be over by now. Maybe he could meet up with his still to be friends in front of the great hall, though he would rather take an aspirin or something like that, not that a pill would help against Tom. He propped himself up against the bedpost when the world suddenly spun. Harry had to wait a moment until the dizziness dissipated, before he was able to set a foot in front of another. As he did not want to use the walls for support – not after what had happened last night when he touched it – Harry would need to be on safe feet before he could leave the dormitory.

Harry was very cautious in where he set his feet. He took his time to go down and past the stupid portrait. He was already halfway down to the great hall without having seen even one person when he heard rather loud voices discussing something they obviously disagreed about. Harry nearly turned around to use another way when he heard his name mentioned rather forcefully along with a rather colorful description of his qualities. Harry had never been able to help himself in situations similar. Tom didn't matter in this one. Harry really wanted to know what Snape was getting off from. Harry peered around the corner; careful to keep his hands away from anything that was Hogwarts.

He smirked when it got clear that his head of house was already trying to get Snape to give her the NEWTs lesson plan for potions. McGonagall could be very stubborn if she wanted to. Harry was sure that she would eventually wear down even Snape, even though he gave in only to be left alone in the end. It was good to know that he had at least one ally in this gigantic castle, not that Harry would ever tell her anything important. He doubted that she would believe him if he told her that her worshipped headmaster was nothing more than a shifty bastard playing god with the lives of people who trusted him infinitely.

Harry flinched when he felt the magic moving within him and jerked back as not to give himself away. Breathing deeply, he leaned against the wall, always keeping his hands to himself. Tom had certainly a way to attack in the worst possible moments. It was not a full power attack. On a scale of one to ten this would be a four – distracting and to a certain degree accompanied by a biting pain, but nothing for which to fear for his control. It was rather mild, though unpleasant. Harry had come accustomed to worse during last night. It was relatively easy to get this under control. As long as Tom did not use more of his strength, Harry could live with it. He bit his teeth, bore the pain and concentrated on Snape's ranting.

He listened in with a certain amount of glee. This part seemed to go all right and in the end Harry was sure that he would find himself pressured into private tutoring lessons by a twinkling old coot who thought he had gotten one over Harry. However, there was no better way to keep Snape occupied than to give him something he could bite his teeth off trying to riddle out and along the way Harry would hopefully get an opportunity to find out how the greasy git had managed to make Voldemort believe that he was to be trusted not to mention the fact how he managed to prevent Voldemort from seeing the truth within his mind.

Harry blinked when he realized that McGonagall was already leaving with a look that would freeze the students in their seats would she use that in class. It did not bother Snape. Obviously she had decided this fight lost and opted for an orderly retreat to go into the next even better prepared. Harry was lucky that she was not going this way or she would not have been oblivious to his presence much longer.

Harry closed his eyes. New waves of pain made his heart beat erratically. This was good for a seven on his personal scale. Harry blinked surprised, caught up in his world of pain, when a sneering voice called out to him.

"Did you think you could hide?" Snape sounded very short tempered today. "Come out, Potter, and ten points from Gryffindor for listening in to a private conversation between your professors."

Harry clenched his teeth and stepped gingerly around the corner. Now, this time he had really done nothing wrong. He blinked when his vision became blurred. The longer the attack continued the harder it was to keep the barrier at its strongest.

"It's not my fault you talk about …private matters in the corridors." The tone of voice and Harry's expression indicated rather …personal private matters. Snape would sure as hell think that by this time tomorrow there was a rumour going around that he secretly met with the head of house of Gryffindor. There was no better thing to get the man angry.

"Fifty points for being – again – where you have nothing to do. And if you're not out of my sight in a second I'll promise you a very unpleasant evening in the dungeons, Potter." Dark eyes narrowed down to slits when the arrogant boy just tried to stare him down rather stupidly instead of hurrying away.

That was certainly a first. Harry blinked himself free of Tom (somewhat). Snape did never give warnings to him; he just handed out the detention and – bang! Be there or die. Harry bit the inside of his cheeks to keep from actually whimpering. A nine on his scale and time to be gone.

"Do you need to be somewhere?" Short tempered and distracted, Harry did not really care or listen or have the patience to smile and bear quietly.

An eyebrow quirked incredulously. "You want to have a detention, you arrogant whelp?" The voice was icy and the look could cut steel, but he tried to scare Harry Potter to no avail when the boy simply stared back too far off to care. "So be it."

From moment to moment Harry found it harder to concentrate on Snape's voice. The pain did not lessen; the pressure on the shields grew steadily. Harry was hardly able to stand without letting on that he was on his feet due to his will alone.

"Sunday at seven. Be sure to be on time, Potter, otherwise I'll promise that Gryffindor won't get out of the hole it's fallen into because of your ego until the end of the year."

Harry blinked. His sight got foggier by the minute. The points did not really register in Harry's mind, but his ego? His? What was with Snape's ego? Harry opened his mouth to retort, but Snape himself rescued him from having his research even more cut down because he had to sit through half a year of everyday detention. With his cloak billowing Snape strode away forcefully. Of course the git needed to have the last word.

Harry watched him go and saw just out of the corner of his eye, before the man vanished out of his sight, that he had clenched his left hand to a white knuckled fist and he remembered that not even once during their little argument had the man held his left hand in any other way.

Stupid Dark Mark. Harry would have to read up on that one too. There had to be a way to close it down until he needed it. Snape had never felt before when Voldemort and he had another row going on as long as Voldemort had been the one to control it.

Harry balled his fists and took his attention back to where it should be. Tom was getting unbearable again and this time it promised to be bad. He just wanted to find a dark corner to curl up in, when a disapproving voice called him back. Harry clenched his teeth to keep from swearing out loud.

"It's your own fault, Harry." Hermione practically tried to stare him into the ground. "Professor Snape was already on his way when you started to … talk back to him."

Harry frowned. The git had looked slightly miffed about something, but was it Harry's fault that the bastard wore his mood around like a moth-infested cloak? He tilted his head and tried an appreciative smile. After all it was time to cool down from his talk with Dumbledore, but he had foregone the good night's sleep Harry had hoped to get.

"What were you arguing with him anyway?" She looked him up and down with a dark frown. "We're even without you going out on your way to lose points in the negative, Harry." They had to come back from breakfast just in time to hear the last flippant words in the argument between Snape and Harry.

"Huh…?" Harry heard her voice going on and off without actually understanding a single word. She had to get all bossy right now? Harry shook his head and turned to Ron. "What's with her?" he asked as if the girl with her fists at her hips was not there. "Did you put something in her drink or what?" Harry tried to seem at ease, but he noticed the slight tremor his voice was having. Ron snorted but knew better than to answer.

A sudden wave of pain made Harry lose his footing when Tom increased the strength by a multitude and his vision tunnelled down to a small speck of light before he got hold of his body again to find himself at the end of two worried pairs of eyes, Ron halfway down to give him a hand should he fall.

"I'm getting a bit dizzy," Harry murmured uncomfortably. "I'm more hungry than I thought." He shrugged noncommittally and grinned weakly. "I hoped to catch up with you in time before you'd finished your desserts."

"Oh! No need for that, mate." Ron grinned and pulled a wrinkled packet out of his robe. "I wanted to go to the kitchen, you know, but Hermione thought this might be enough breakfast for you." Wrapped up in a napkin Harry found miniaturized croissants and some bread rolls covered with cheese and bacon. Harry wanted to vomit just looking at them.

"Thanks, Ron. That's great." He ignored their worried frowns.

"Yeah, well, Hermione shrunk them when no one was looking. It's enough, though, isn't it?"

"Yes, quite." Careful not to squash the food, Harry folded the napkin back and shoved it into a trouser pocket that was big enough for a dozen trucks to find a parking place.

He looked up and found Hermione holding a letter out to him. Curiously, Harry gripped it and looked down to the green ink his name was written in.

"He gave you this during breakfast?"

"Actually, no." Hermione shook her head. "We met Professor McGonagall on our way here. She gave us the letter and said that we should give it to you with best greetings from the headmaster." She could barely refrain her curiosity from showing.

That his fingers trembled when he opened the parchment may have something to happen with his newly rising anger at Dumbledore. He believed, though, that it was his efforts showing to simply keep standing without crying out in pain. At first Harry thought that the letter had something to do with what they talked about yesterday, but it just seemed to be a totally different plot from the old fool. Harry stared at the letter incredulously. What was it with Dumbledore? Could he have not told him yesterday instead of just ordering him now? They had been in the same room for hours.

Harry glared darkly, before he crumpled the parchment in his tight grip. He drew a deep breath to start another rant of what he thought of their headmaster, but instead he gasped in pain. That, now, was a ten on his scale. It was not only hurting anymore, it was agonizing torture. He nearly lunged for the wall for support, and changed his mind only in the last instant.

"Excuse me a minute, guys," he pressed out throatily. "I need to see Dumbledore." Without waiting for an answer Harry rushed off, calling back that he would catch up with them later in the tower and hoped they would not follow him.

Hermione and Ron looked at each other and watched him stomping off with mixed feelings. To Harry's relief, they made their way to the common room, looking back now and again to figure out what was going on.

The moment they left and Harry found himself out of their sight he stopped, slipped into a dark niche and curled himself up tightly to a small ball, doing everything in his power to just make it stop.

He did not waste his strength to suppress the tremors that shook his body; the small whimpers that passed his tightly clenched teeth barely registered within his mind. He needed to be alerted to every move Tom was making now. Trying to shut out the pain, Harry concentrated inwards. He pushed back against the shields from his side of the barrier, ignoring the wildly roaring magic and the pounding of his blood in his ears. Tom would not win this. Never.