Title: Stand By
Author: Danea
Previously published under another pen name at a separate site
Summary: After the events of the TriWizard Tournament, Harry finds himself depressed and terribly lonely. Even his closest friends can't see what's wrong. A chance encounter over Winter Break with one of his greatest rivals (no, not Voldermort or Snape) leads Harry down a path he certainly never expected. Rated M for language, mention of abuse/rape (non-descript), slight AU.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I am American, therefore any misuse of British slang is simply ignorance.
Author's Notes: As always, thank you for the reviews! This is sort of a short chapter with a lot of convo. The next chapter is a lot of action...so it all balances out!
He recognized it first by the smell. Even before Harry opened his eyes, he knew he was in the infirmary because of the distinct smell of the room, a mixture of sanitized sheets and potions. It had become an all too familiar smell for Harry, who had found himself tucked into one of the infirmary beds at least once a year since his arrival at Hogwarts. This time, however, he was more eager than ever to get out.
Despite the ache that ran through his whole body, Harry forced himself to sit up, groping blindly on the table beside the bed for his glasses. As he slid them on, the room came into sharp focus, and Harry became aware that it was no longer evening, but sometime in the mid-morning. Warm rays of sunlight were just beginning to filter through the windows, bright enough to light the room. He had been out for at least the night.
"Mr. Potter, you're awake." Dumbledore entered the infirmary, a relieved smile lighting his face.
"Yes, sir," Harry replied, surprised to hear the rawness of his voice. Slowly, the events of the night were coming back to him. The vision from Voldermort; someone had cast a silencing charm on him after he'd screamed for what felt like hours. No wonder his throat hurt.
"How much of last night do you remember, Harry?" Dumbledore asked. The older wizard gently perched on the edge of Harry's bed, focusing his gaze on the boy. Despite the easy nature of his voice, Harry had a feeling that the answer he was about to give was rather important to Dumbledore.
"I don't know," Harry shrugged, one hand reaching up to tentatively touch his scar, which was still raw and sore to the touch. "It's all sort of blurred together. I think some of it was a dream..." he trailed off, trying his best to sort out the strange images in his mind.
"Why don't you just give me the overall synopsis and we'll do our best to figure out what was real and what was not, alright?"
Harry nodded, and then begin to speak, letting the memories flow out of his head. "I'd had a headache all day, because of my scar. I knew Voldermort was up to something, but since he's learned to block the visions most of the time, I didn't get much from it except the headache. But then, it hit me all of the sudden. The pain was so intense, I felt as if I couldn't breathe. It wasn't like anything I've ever felt before. There was no vision accompanying it; it wasn't the echo of someone else's pain. It felt as if Voldermort had reached his hands into my head and was wreaking havoc inside of me."
Dumbledore was listening intently, and Harry made note of the frightened look in his eye. Obviously, what had happened was not a good sign. Though Voldermort had managed to gain some control over what Harry saw through the visions, he had never been able to effect Harry himself directly. But he had seemed to be in complete control the night before.
Harry went on, though the back of his mind was filled with thoughts. "But then, through the pain, I could hear something. I don't think Voldermort meant for it to happen, but I could hear what was going on, as if I was hearing through his ears. There was a small group of Death Eaters with him, though I didn't recognize the voices. Voldermort didn't talk at all. They seemed to be talking about him. I think he was doing some sort of spell or ritual, something that changed the link between us." Harry paused, thinking for a moment. "I couldn't hear most of the words. But they were concerned that the spell would weaken him."
"It all went silent again, for a little bit. I think I must have been here by then, because the edge had been taken off the pain, though it was still there. Then the vision started. Or the dream. It wasn't like before, where I watched him kill as if it was a memory playing on a screen. I thought I was actually there, standing beside him. We were walking through a Muggle town, with at least a dozen Death Eaters behind us. I could see the people...they didn't understand what was going on. They were so scared. A little girl ran in front of us, trying to cross the street, but I collided with her, knocking us both down. I think I scraped my knee..."
As he let his voice drift off, a sudden fear gripped Harry. He kicked back the covers suddenly, pulling up the leg of the pajamas to reveal his knee, which now sported a large scab. The realization hit Harry hard, and he turned to Dumbledore in a panic. "It was real?" Harry cried.
Dumbledore frowned slightly, taking a moment before he answered, "There is much we don't understand about the events of last night, Harry. But it seems evident that something has changed concerning the link which connects you to Lord Voldermort. I think it is important that I hear the rest of your memories of last night."
Though Dumbledore's response left many unanswered questions, Harry nodded, continuing on with his explanation of the previous night's events. "After I stood back up, I had to hurry to catch up to Voldermort. By then, the streets were nearly empty. The Death Eaters spread out, as if keeping watch. And then Voldermort...and me...we approached a building. He had his wand out, but I couldn't move. And then it all sort of got fuzzy." Harry closed his eyes, willing himself to remember more. "My wand was out...but I don't remember taking it out. But I was holding it. And then Voldermort...he took it!" Harry's eyes popped open. "Where's my wand?" he asked fearfully.
"Don't worry, Harry. Your wand is here," the older wizard said reassuringly. "Can you remember any more?"
Harry's headache began to return as he tried desperately to bring forth any further memories of the night before. It felt as if he was missing the final piece to an elaborate puzzle; he had some idea of the picture, but without the last piece, it didn't seem to make much sense. Despite his effort, all he could see was brief flashes, glimpses of memories.
"I don't know," Harry sighed.
"Perhaps if I give you some of the information I have collected concerning the events of last night, it will trigger some of your memories," Dumbledore suggested. At Harry's nod, he began to speak, "The building you saw was a Muggle orphanage, the one that Voldermort himself lived in as a child, in fact. During his first rise to power, the building was damaged in a mysterious fire, but not destroyed. It was rebuilt a few years later, and recently expanded to include a larger dormitory."
"Did he destroy it last night?" Harry asked. "Is that why we were there?"
"No, Harry. Voldermort did not destroy the building last night," Dumbledore replied, sadness coloring his eyes as he met Harry's gaze. "It seems that the orphanage itself has been taken over as a Death Eater headquarters. However, in the process, many muggle lives were lost. To the best of our knowledge, all of the adults were killed. "
"And the children?" Harry asked, dreading the answer but needing to know all the same.
"It appears that for the time being, the muggle children are alive."
Though Dumbledore did not continue, Harry already knew what the older wizard hadn't said. Harry knew what had happened to the children. The image played through his mind like a dream; the muggle children, scared and cowering, locked together in a single room. Voldermort had taken them hostage, intending to use them as bait. The reason Harry's vision had been so different last night, so clear was because Voldermort intended him to know the exact details of the night. He intended to lure Harry out.
For a moment, Harry debated on whether to tell Dumbledore the rest of what he knew or not. If he did, Harry knew there was a great chance that the muggle children would die. Dumbledore would never let Harry face the Dark Lord alone, even if it meant saving someone else. Looking into the older wizard's eyes, Harry knew that if he wanted to save the children, there was only one possible thing to do.
"What is the Ministry doing about it?" Harry asked. "Have they tried to rescue them?"
"It seems that the orphanage has suddenly become quite unplottable. In fact, nearly every time a witch or a wizard tries to enter the Muggle town, they seem to forget just what they were looking for in the first place. Voldermort obviously does not want to be found. By the Ministry, at least." The look Dumbledore leveled at Harry made the boy wonder if the older man didn't already know the truth.
But Dumbledore continued, "At the moment, Harry, the Ministry is truly at a loss. I had hoped that some of your memories might give us a better idea of Voldermort's plan. But, alas, it seems that Voldermort's control over the link has been growing. He hasn't allowed you to view more than exactly what he wanted you to see."
"I'm sorry," Harry apologized, feeling slightly guilty for keeping the full truth from Dumbledore. "I wish I could help."
"Of course you do, Harry." Dumbledore patted his hand gently. The older man seemed to be drifting away from the conversation with Harry, into his own thoughts. "We always knew the link would only serve our purposes so long before Voldermort discovered it." He paused, smiling down at Harry. "Why don't you try to get some more rest?"
Harry nodded in agreement, scooting down in the bed so that he could lay down, making a show of settling in. He was grateful when Dumbledore chose not to linger, casting one last glance at Harry before leaving. Harry waited a moment, ears straining to listen. When it seemed certain that he was alone, he kicked off the covers.
"I know this is dumb, but what else can I do?" Harry murmured to the empty room.
He dressed quickly, making sure his wand was tucked into his belt. Voldermort had sent a clear message; only Harry could save the lives of the children. And no matter what it meant for him, he knew what he had to do. Whispering a silent charm, he waited for his invisibility cloak and his broom to appear in his hands. If he hesitated any longer, her thought he might lose his nerve, so Harry tossed the cloak over his shoulders, not pulling it all the way on quite yet,and climbed on to the broom. He never noticed the silver eyes watching him through the crack in the door as he took flight.