The Monster under my Skin

As he was walking through Hogwarts corridors, he focused on the professor McGonagall's tartan dressing gown that was swirling right in front of him. His sight was still blurred under the sweat and his pyjamas were sticking to his skin. But none of this mattered. Harry felt as though the panic inside him would spill over at any moment and he was fighting the urge to run pass McGonagall yelling for help, yelling for Dumbledore. Mr. Weasley was in danger and there was no time to lose.

He was still haunted by the blood splattering on the floor while the man cried in pain. He had guessed the presence before the seeing him. He had tasted his scent on the air before tasting his blood. How he had longed to bite him, refusing to give in to this sweet temptation. There was work to do. But the man had spotted him he had no choice but to defend himself. What a shame, isn't it?

They reached the stone gargoyle guarding the entrance to Dumbledore's office and the voice of the Head of his House giving the password allowed him to escape from his thoughts. McGonagall knocked and the door leading to the office opened on its own accord. Harry tried to master his breath while McGonagall started to explain what had happened.

'Professor Dumbledore, Potter has had a… well, a nightmare,' said Professor McGonagall. 'He says …'

'It wasn't a nightmare,' said Harry quickly. Professor McGonagall looked around at Harry, frowning slightly.

'Very well, then, Potter, you tell the headmaster about it.'

'I ... well, I was asleep ..." said Harry and even in his terror and his desperation to make Dumbledore understand he felt slightly irritated that the headmaster was not looking at him but examining his own interlocked fingers.

'But it wasn't an ordinary dream ... it was real ... I saw it happen ...' He took a deep breath, 'Ron's dad, Mr. Weasley, has been attacked by a giant snake.'

As his last words seemed to reverberate in the air after he had said them, Harry felt like he was about to give in to his terror. He had attacked Ron's father. This jaw, which he kept clenched to prevent it from shaking, had been the one that had felt Mr. Weasley's ribs splinter beneath. He had tasted the flesh and he had liked it. He had felt the blood gushing out between his fangs, and he had wanted more.

Harry leaned back against one of the tables on which were lying a collection of silver instruments. He felt like he was about to throw up. Dumbledore looked at him sideways for a few seconds before issuing orders to the various paintings on the wall. They would all go at Grimmaud Place tonight, Harry and the Weasleys, and they would wait for further instruction here. As for Mr. Weasley, rescue was on its way.

As the calm but firm voice of the Headmaster filled the room, Harry felt his mind slowly disconnecting from reality. He should have been relieved when he heard from a distance that Ron's father had been found, but that also confirmed that what he had experienced had been real.

'But it can't be me!' He thought to himself. 'I was in my bed at Hogwarts, it can't be me… right?'

That being said... it could very well be that he underestimated what being a living Horcrux meant. After all, even Tom wasn't certain about its implication. He was the vessel of one of Voldemort's soul shards which was dormant, but very much alive. He felt his breath accelerate as an idea, as crazy as it was terrifying, crawled in his mind.

His thoughts were interrupted as he felt someone putting his hand on a rusty object, and he looked at the blackened old kettle which had been turned into a Portkey to Grimmaud Place in disbelief. He couldn't go to his godfather's house. He couldn't go to the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix knowing the threat he was.

'You have all used a Portkey before?' Asked Dumbledore. Several nods answered his question.

'Good, on the count of three then.'

One… He had been constantly angry this year, to the point his friends were constantly walking on eggshells around him, and now this.

Two… Was he turning into some sort of monster? Or worse was he turning into… him?

It happened in a fraction of a second. In the infinitesimal pause before Dumbledore said "three," Harry looked up at him, they were very close together, and Dumbledore's clear blue gaze moved from the Portkey to Harry's face. At once, Harry's scar burned white-hot, as though the old wound had burst open again. Unbidden, unwanted, but terrifyingly strong, there rose within Harry a hatred so powerful he felt, for that instant, that he would like nothing better than to strike… to bite… to sink his fangs into the man before him.

Three.

The blue eyes vanished in a swirl of colors, and he was sucked in a rush of wind. His feet hit suddenly the ground hard and soon Sirius joined them in the gloomy basement of number twelve, Grimmauld Place. The unshaven face of his godfather accentuated the anxiety of his features. He stretched out a hand to help Ginny up and asked:

'What's going on? I was told Arthur has been badly injured.'

'Ask Harry,' said Fred.

'Yeah, I want to hear this for myself,' added George.

The weight of Fred, George and Ginny's looks was unbearable for Harry. He heard himself repeating what he had told Dumbledore minutes ago. And he told them all that he had seen, though he altered the story so that it sounded as though he had watched from the sidelines as the snake attacked, rather than from behind the snake's own eyes. While he was speaking, he noticed Ron's fleeting look when he omitted his true role in the assault.

He hated how accusatory their looks were. He hated how Ron was avoiding his eyes.

Could he really blame them?

Chaos ensued as Fred, George and Ginny started to insist they go at St Mungo's at once. In the end, Sirius managed to calm them down and sit them around his kitchen table. As the silence seized the room, Harry's thoughts started to run wild again.

It had been the third time he had felt this urge of hurting the Headmaster. And every time it had been after he had crossed his gaze. Was it why Dumbledore had been avoiding him all this time? Did he expect to see Voldemort staring out of them, afraid, perhaps, that their vivid green might turn suddenly to scarlet, with catlike slits for pupils? When he had visited him in the office, the old wizard had looked directly at him knowing quite well the violence he was about to trigger. The same violence that had seized him in front of Mr. Weasley. He shivered.

Then a burst of fire illuminated the room and a piece of parchment fell on the table.

'Fawkes!' Exclaimed Sirius while grabbing the letter.

It wasn't a message from Dumbledore, but from Mrs. Weasley.

'Dad is still alive. I am setting out for St. Mungo's now. Stay where you are. I will send news as soon as I can. Mum.' Read George. He looked around the table. 'Still alive… But that makes it sound…'

He didn't need to finish his sentence for Harry to understand the uncertain state in which Mr. Weasley was now. Hovering somewhere between life and death. Fred pulled the parchment out of George's hand to read it for himself. The look he then gave Harry made him want to run away as far as he could.

If Harry had ever sat through a longer night than this one, he could not remember it. The silent grief of the family was deafening to his ears. As morning dawned at the window, the same phrase kept banging against the walls of his mind. He didn't belong here.

The next day they all went with an escort of some members of the Order to St Mungo's. Harry was relieved to see that Mr. Weasley all propped up on several pillows and reading the Daily Prophet by the solitary ray of sunlight falling onto his bed. He was safe.

He was even more relieved when the twins invited him later to join them to eavesdrop the room in which Mr. Weasley was staying. After they had greeted him and made sure he was all right, the members had come in for an improvised meeting. For the Weasleys and Harry it was an opportunity to retrieve information about Voldemort and the Order whereabouts.

'… they searched the whole area, but they couldn't find the snake anywhere, it just seems to have vanished after it attacked you, Arthur… But You-Know-Who can't have expected a snake to get in, can he?'

'So, Potter says he saw it all happen?' Growled Moody.

'Yes,' said Mrs. Weasley. She sounded rather uneasy. 'You know, Dumbledore seems almost to have been waiting for Harry to see something like this…'

There was the confirmation of what he had suspected all this time. Dumbledore had been up to something, and Harry couldn't help to feel betrayed.

'Yeah, well,' said Moody, 'there's something funny about the Potter kid, we all know that.'

They "all" knew that? Harry felt anger rise within him. He hated the idea of having them talking about him like that. For Merlin's sake! He had been the one taking all the risks last year! He didn't deserve to be left out like that, let alone being badmouthed behind his back.

'Dumbledore seemed worried about Harry when I spoke to him this morning,' whispered Mrs. Weasley. 'Course he's worried,' growled Moody again. 'The boy's seeing things from inside You-Know-Who's snake. … Obviously, Potter doesn't realize what that means, but if You-Know-Who's possessing him …'

Harry would never forget the way the others had been looking at him upon hearing this. He would never forget the fear he had inspired in them that day.