Author's Note: Hey all! Here's the next chapter. I hope you all like it. I will warn you. It's intense. Stay away if you don't like heavy emotions.
"Ah, Harry. Welcome back." Harry rolled over and sat up, glaring at Voldemort. How dare he interrupt Harry's first fun dream? "Well, someone's cranky." Voldemort said, waving his wand to change the room.
"Nice word, Tom. Hanging around with Muggles?" Harry stood and folded his arms. "What would your Death Eaters say?" Harry decided he liked standing in the exact spot that he was in. Let Voldemort try to move him. It wouldn't happen.
"You are looking better." Harry smirked. Voldemort was obviously perplexed over Harry's current state of health. A few nights of decent sleep had done wonders for Harry and Voldemort couldn't figure it out.
"Wish I could say the same for you." Harry shrugged. "So, is there a reason you interrupted my dream this time. My answer to your offers is still 'no'." Harry shook his head when Voldemort gestured to a seat. "I'll stand, thanks."
"That dream of yours was utter nonsense." Voldemort told him, conjuring a cup of tea and sipping it. "Swords of light and flying outer space ships. Nonsense." Voldemort offered a cup of tea to Harry.
"No thanks." Harry sighed. "So, you interrupted my dream because you didn't understand it?" Harry rubbed his face and chewed his bottom lip. "That's not fair." Harry felt himself beginning to tire but he wasn't going to let Voldemort know that. "If that's all you wanted, could you leave my head? I want to go back to sleep and see if I can go back to my dream." Voldemort put down his tea cup and looked at Harry.
"Did you even think about my offer?" Voldemort asked.
"Yes. My answer is still 'no'." Harry glared at Voldemort. It was becoming important to sit down, but Harry ignored his legs. Somebody wake me up!
"You feel that Dumbledore will give you the education and training you need?" Well, Harry wanted to say yes, he really did. He couldn't say it though, not after what Hermione had told him earlier. "You don't, do you?" Voldemort accused. Harry shrugged.
"Do you trust him?" Harry returned. He wanted to keep Voldemort talking and away from his wand.
"Of course not! Manipulative old codger." Voldemort mumbled a few words under his breath about stupid boys and their pointless questions. "What has he done to you, I wonder?" Harry decided to take his favorite topic dodging method. He shrugged. Voldemort stood and eyed him. Wow, it worked. "What are you planning to do now that you are no longer so firmly under Dumbledore's thumb?" Voldemort asked, coming to stand in front of Harry.
"I don't know. Join the Rebellion." Voldemort blinked.
"The Rebellion?" Harry smirked.
"It's a Muggle saying." Harry told him. Voldemort's face twisted as though he had seen Lucius Malfoy in a tutu.
"I could help you with your Dumbledore problem. Give you some independence." Voldemort offered.
"The enemy of my enemy is my friend?" Harry asked. "Not quite ready to agree to anything yet." Harry shrugged. "Besides, I know where to find you if I want you." Harry had a feeling that this tentative peace in his head was going to end very shortly. He wanted to be awake before the event descended into Voldemort becoming a power hungry mad wizard. Oh, wait. Too late.
"The offer stands." Voldemort told him. "As well as my previous offer of training and a place at my side." Harry shook his head.
"No thanks. Will you get out of my head now?" Voldemort's eyes grew cold. Oh, good. I have something familiar now. "No need to demonstrate your power. I know you can do magic." Harry told him as he went for his wand.
"You foolish boy. You should take what I offer." Voldemort's wand appeared in his hand again and Harry took a deep breath.
"Foolish? That's your opinion." Harry told him. "Leave."
"I will leave when I wish to leave." Harry rolled his eyes and closed them. He gasped as he felt Voldemort grab his arms. His scar split open. "I could make you so much more than you are. Why can't you understand that?" Voldemort demanded. Harry reached up a hand to his forehead and ground his teeth.
"I don't need you." He bit out. "Let go of me." Voldemort released him and stalked away. Harry rubbed his scar and winced as he felt the tender skin pull.
"Imperio." Harry felt a fog settle over his mind. "Join me." Now, why in the world would he want to do that? "Join me." No. "Join me." Well, something- NO. "Join me."
"No." Harry told him, meeting his eyes. Voldemort scowled and stared at Harry.
"It doesn't have to be this way, you foolish child." Harry shook his head.
"I know." Harry took a step toward Voldemort. "I want it this way." Voldemort lost his patience and raised his wand.
"Crucio!" Harry fell as the spell hit him. Someone wake me. Harry pleaded in his mind, hoping that someone would know to wake him. Voldemort released the spell and Harry gasped in air, trying to figure out how long the spell had lasted.
"It doesn't have to be this way. Once you say yes, it will all stop." Oh, from the end of the spell and Harry's position on the floor, that sounded like a good idea. No, he needed to move. Harry tried to roll over to push himself up to his feet, but Voldemort stopped him. "You'll only hurt yourself if you keep moving." Voldemort restrained him and looked into Harry's eyes. Harry quickly blanked his mind the best he could.
"Let go of me!" His voice broke a little. Oh, there was real intimidation.
"You have forgotten your own limits, Harry." Voldemort conjured the bed again and levitated Harry over to it. "I want to help you." Harry tried to scoot away from Voldemort but he didn't get far.
"I don't need your help. You've already helped my life enough." Harry crawled off the bed and stood. "If you really want to help me, leave me alone." Voldemort frowned.
'I offered to bring your parents back." He told Harry, collapsing into a chair. "I don't know what else you want." Voldemort sat in silence, regarding Harry. "You are a stubborn child."
"I know what you want. You want me against Dumbledore." Harry said. He blinked. The room was rolling. That was an interesting sight. "I want you out of my head." Voldemort eyed him, taking in Harry's shaking.
"Sit down before you fall down. You don't look well." Harry rolled his eyes.
"Are you serious?" He was shocked when Voldemort actually got up and physically pushed him back on the bed. Well, he had been serious. "I don't understand you." Voldemort turned away from Harry and sighed.
"That makes two of us." Voldemort turned back to Harry. "I have offered you everything, and still you resist. Why?" Harry stared back at him.
"I don't want what you offer." Voldemort looked to be visibly restraining himself from hitting Harry. Oh, I think I pushed him too far. Harry fell off the bed when Voldemort started the Cruciatus Curse again. He grunted as his head hit the floor. Oh, pretty lights. Harry felt arms take hold of him and lift him up, but it wasn't Voldemort. No, the maniac wizard still had him under Crucio, but Harry was waking up.
"Harry!" Now who was that? "Wake up, Harry!" Paul. It was Paul. Thank goodness for Paul being there. Harry heard Voldemort cursing as he opened his eyes and his hands flew to his scar. Blood. He had blood in his eyes. "You're okay, Harry. You're safe now." Harry wanted to tell Paul what had happened, how they had almost had a civil conversation before Voldemort went crazy and cursed him, but somehow his mouth wouldn't work. "We'll get you cleaned up, buddy." Paul lifted him and managed to get Harry back into his bed. "Thanks for the water, Jack. Harry, can you look at me?" Harry opened his eyes again, wondering when he had closed them again, and looked at Paul. Paul was worried. "Can you swallow something for me?" Harry nodded and winced. Oh, he felt like he had really hit his head. Paul lifted the glass of water up to Harry's lips and allowed him a sip.
"I hurt my head." Harry whispered. "It hurts in the back." Paul nodded and gave Harry a quick examination. He used a small light that made Harry's head pound worse than it would have had Fluffy danced on it. He groaned and pushed the light away.
"No concussion. You gave yourself a pretty good knock, that's all." Paul motioned for Jack to help Harry sit up. "Sleeping pills, Harry. We'll talk about your dreams when you wake up." Harry swallowed the pills and motioned for Paul to stay.
"He still wants me to join him." He told Paul once Jack had left. "He cursed me. A lot. I don't think that I'll be able to move tomorrow." Harry yawned. "I think that I'm going to sleep now." Paul smiled and patted Harry's hand.
"Go ahead, buddy. I'll see you tomorrow." Harry didn't answer. Paul shook his head and stood up. If Paul ever met this Voldemort character in a dark alley somewhere, only one person was going to be alive afterwards, and it wouldn't be the one with the wand.
True to his word, Harry could not move much the next day. Or the day after. Or the day after. Paul had given him painkillers that helped so he could walk, but he didn't want to do much more than that. Paul wanted Harry to skip his martial arts class, but Harry said that just watching could teach him something. Paul sent a note along to Sensei anyway, telling Sensei that Harry was not allowed any physical activity at all that day. Harry had been waved to a bench and he had sat through the whole class, completely happy just to watch.
It had been a week since the Voldemort incident and Harry smiled as he watched the end of another class. He would get to participate tomorrow. He didn't need painkillers this morning and didn't feel the slightest bit stiff. He was glad that Paul had listened to his protests that nothing could be done for that particular curse and only time would heal his aches. Harry had dreaded trying to explain to a Muggle doctor why he had severe nerve damage when he had just been sleeping. No, that would have gone over like a lead balloon.
Today had been interesting. Harry had enjoyed all of his classes and Sky had said that he was coming along nicely and should be up to form level in just a few short months. He didn't know why, but that pleased him. Martial arts had just ended and he returned his wandering attention to reality. He was gathering his school bag when Sensei stopped him.
"Rick!" Rick's head snapped up. "Suit up." Rick nodded to Harry and moved to some shelves in the back. "Evan, stay where you are. I want you to see this." Harry nodded and sank back onto the bench, unconsciously pulling his legs up to his chest. He watched as Sensei pulled on boxing gloves and put something in his mouth. Rick came to the center with the same equipment. They tapped gloves and starting fighting each other. Harry had never seen anything like it before. If they hadn't looked like they were trying to hurt each other, he would have said that they were dancing. Ten minutes passed before Sensei called a halt. Sensei stepped back and bowed with Rick. "Cool down." Rick nodded and went to put his equipment away. "What do you think, Evan?" Harry just smiled.
"Wow." Sensei nodded.
"Wow indeed." Sensei's head cocked to the side and looked at Harry. "Un-ball yourself." Harry had no idea what Sensei meant. Sensei reached out and took hold of Harry's feet before lowering them to the ground. "No more ball." Sensei mussed Harry's hair and gave a small smile. "Rick will walk you to your classroom." Harry nodded and Rick threw an arm around Harry's shoulder guiding him from the room. Sensei stared after him before he appeared to come to a decision, nod to himself, and turn towards the locker room. He had time for a shower before the next class came in half an hour.
"Is he always like that?" Harry asked Rick as the pair of them went down the hallway.
"Eh. He gets really quiet when he's angry." Rick confided with a smile as they walked down the hallway. "You haven't seen him angry yet." Harry shook his head in bewilderment.
"Are you a student here?" Harry asked. Rick shook his head.
"No, I come with Dad." Harry was about to ask who that was when he figured it out. He turned sharply and stared at Rick.
"Sensei is your father?" he blurted out. How in the world had Rick managed to survive this long?
"He's my dad. My biological father left me and my mom when I was one or two. Sensei married my mother when I was four. He's my dad, and I couldn't have picked a better one." Rick told him with a smile. "What about you? What are your parents like?" Harry shrugged.
"I don't really know. They died when I was a baby." Rick nodded. He decided then and there that he liked Rick for his lack of sympathy. Harry really liked that. "I live with my aunt and uncle. We're not really close, but my aunt sent me here." Rick nodded again. Oh, he really liked Rick.
"Must have been weird, growing up with just them. I can't imagine life without my sisters, though sometimes I wish I could." Harry laughed a bit and smiled.
"I had my cousin Dudley, who is just really weird right now. We were raised together, but didn't get along." Rick smiled, telling Harry he knew something about not getting along with another child. "Sirius told me a bunch of pranks to try on him, but I never got around to them." He hefted his bag onto his shoulder and smiled.
"Who's Sirius?"
"My godfather." He stopped walking as their subject caught up with his mind. No, I don't want to remember. No, please. My fault. The Department of Mysteries. Sirius's face as Bellatrix Lestrange first toyed with him and then cursed him. Sirius's look of horror as he fell through the veil. Remus holding him back. Him going after Bellatrix. Voldemort and Dumbledore. The possession. Him destroying Dumbledore's office. The prophecy.
"I know it hurts. Let it out. It's okay." A soft voice chanted in his ear. "Just let it go. Let it out." Harry followed the instructions, too tired and upset to think for himself at the moment. He cried until he had no tears left. He tried to pull away, but didn't get far. He was too tired. What had happened? Where was he? Who was the voice? "Tissue." Harry took it and realized that he was in Paul's office and Paul was sitting next to him, offering him a tissue. Harry took it and tried to clean his face off. Paul shook his head and stilled Harry's hands and Paul did it for him. Harry rested against the back of the sofa, trying to push the memories away again. It didn't work. They were still there. "So, what happened to set you off?" Paul asked quietly, setting the box of tissues aside. Harry took a breath to answer but cut it off when he felt that he was going to cry again. "You can tell me, Harry."
"Sorry." Paul looked at Harry in genuine surprise.
"I have no idea why you are apologizing." Paul told him, offering another tissue for Harry's ruined one. Harry took one and toyed with it. "What happened?" Paul asked. Harry shrugged. Paul was not going to let him get away with that this time. "Rick mentioned that you were talking about someone called Sirius." Ah ha. That was what had triggered Harry. Harry pushed his body to his feet and started for the door. Paul reached out and stopped Harry with a hand.
"Stop running from this." Paul told him in a calm voice. "You have emotions. They are apart of you, Harry, and you have the same rights as everyone else to express them." Harry shook his head. He hadn't turned back to face Paul, but at least he had stayed. "Oh, and why not?" Paul asked.
"I'm not like everyone else. I can't do it. I'm not supposed to. I need to stay strong." Paul pulled Harry back to the couch. Harry did not resist and sank back into the cushions with a sigh.
"Yes, you can. I don't know who told you that you can't grieve over someone, but you obviously need to do so. Why don't you?" Harry took a deep breath and shook his head, shutting his eyes against Paul's worried face. No, he was happy in denial, thanks so much.
Paul watched as Harry seemed to fight something inside of him. Why was Harry so determined to keep things inside of him? Paul stared at Harry until Harry looked at him. "its okay, Harry. You can do it." Harry shook his head again and fought to keep his breathing calm. "I'm here for you, Harry." Paul wasn't sure what happened, what he had said that connected with Harry, but the boy broke.
"No, you're not. It's my fault." Harry buried his face in his hands. Paul reached out a hand and put it on Harry's shoulder. Harry leaned into him. "I shouldn't have gone." Harry mumbled through his tears. "He would still be alive if I hadn't." Ah, so someone did die. Paul had been right.
Harry took some deep breaths to calm himself, but they only caught in his throat. Wonderful. Why had he listened to Voldemort? Why had he gone? Why hadn't he trusted Snape? Why had he been so stupid?
"Who's Sirius, Harry?" Paul asked. Harry thought about his friend. Paul. His friend! Harry took a slight breath and spoke.
"My godfather." Harry whispered. Paul wrapped his arm around Harry's shoulder and pulled him closer. "He died." Paul nodded and Harry knew that Paul was just willing to listen, that he didn't want to make Harry feel better or tell him that it wasn't his fault. He would just listen.
"Can you tell me what happened?" Harry paused. Yes, more than anything, for some reason. He nodded, but still hesitated. He didn't want Paul to think any less of him for what he had done. But, Paul had said that he wouldn't judge him, right? That they were friends?
"Voldemort sent me a vision. He had Sirius and was torturing him. I had to go. No one else knew. I tried checking the house first. Kreacher, the house elf, lied to me and said that Sirius was gone." Harry paused to wipe his face. "There was an Order member at school. I could have told him. He hated Sirius. I didn't trust him. I didn't think he would help." Harry stopped, trying to get a handle on his breathing. He didn't want to start crying again. Why did this hurt so much and feel so good at the same time?
"Then what happened?" Paul asked. Oh yeah. He was talking to Paul.
"My friends from the Defense Association came with me. They didn't want me to go alone." Harry shook his head. "They were in such danger. There was no real way to prepare them for what they were getting into. No way to warn them. They were all hurt. Death Eaters were waiting for us. I nearly got my friends killed. Two lives on my hands were enough. I didn't want my friends added to them." Paul froze but allowed Harry to continue. What, exactly, had happened to him? Why in the world did Harry feel that he had killed someone? If either Dumbledore or Voldemort were responsible, there was going to be one less wizard in the world, if Paul could find them, of course.
"Sirius came to save me. He dueled his cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange, and she threw him through a doorway that leads to the afterlife. He died. It was my fault." Harry sat in silence after his last admission, obviously trying to pull himself together and not succeeding very well at all. Paul stayed close, thinking over what Harry had said. Harry had been through a lot, and everything he had said made Paul want to shake some sense into that headmaster. He no one seen what was happening with this boy?
"It's not your fault." Harry froze and held his breath. He wasn't wrong! How dare Paul tell him he was wrong? He was right! Harry opened his moth to contradict Paul. "Wait a minute. Breathe. Stop and think." Harry took a few deep breaths as he followed Paul's instructions. "May I tell you my impression of the wizarding world?" He asked. Harry nodded, wondering where this would lead.
"Imagine an eleven year old child pushed into an alternate dimension where nothing follows the rules he knew and then that same child is told that he needs to do certain things without fail." Paul started. Harry tried to make a connection. "For instance, in this alternate dimension, everyone walks on their hands, because it is impolite to walk on their feet, but this child doesn't know this and must teach himself to fit in. That doesn't mean he understands it." Paul stood and moved to the chair across from Harry. "He never is really successful at it, but he manages to fool everyone into thinking that he is quite capable of walking on his hands." Paul leaned forward and looked at Harry. "Does that seem fair to you?"
No, that didn't seem fair at all. Someone could have taken the time to explain it to him. "No." He told Paul. Paul smiled at Harry.
"Now, imagine an eleven year old who has lived with Muggles, that's the right word, isn't it?" Harry nodded. "Alright, an eleven year old who has lived with Muggles all his life and then is suddenly told that he is a wizard." Harry could begin to see the connection that Paul was trying to draw. "That he can do magic." Harry wanted to interrupt, but Paul had already started again. "Sure, they'll teach him, but he's special and won't need the same help everyone else needs. After all, his parents were wizards. Oh, yes. Let's not forget that he's left-handed. Well, that little trait," Paul stopped and looked at Harry sharply, as though trying to convey some sort of message "should be enough to make up for everything he doesn't understand." Harry understood what Paul was trying to say. His hand rose to his forehead and he fingered it. That was his left hand. He had been on his own from mostly day one in the magical world! Paul saw Harry make the connection and smiled. "Do you understand what I'm trying to say?" Harry nodded.
"It's not fair." Harry told him. Paul sat back in his chair.
"No, it's not. I just don't think that you realized what exact situation this oh-so-superior society of magic forced you into. Add to that fame and prestige, and it's an accident waiting to happen." Harry stared at Paul. How had Paul gotten to be so smart?
"Wow." Paul smiled. Harry must like that word. He used it a lot, mostly when he didn't know what to say. "I- wow." Paul studied Harry. Was he ready to continue?
"About your godfather." Harry looked up. "Did you always make his decisions for him?" Oh, the kid was mad! No Jedi calm there. Pure fury.
"Of course not! He was a grown man!" Harry snapped. Paul smiled. Perfect.
"Yes, he was a grown man." He told Harry. "So, are you saying that he could make his own decisions?" Harry folded his arms and glared.
"He could make his own decisions." Harry told him. Paul could tell that Harry was restraining himself from saying something impolite.
"Alright. He could make his own decisions. Why are you blaming yourself for one of his decisions?" Harry sat up to the edge of the couch.
"If I wouldn't have been so stupid, he wouldn't have made the decision he did." Harry told him.
"You admit that it was his decision?" Harry threw his arms into the air.
"Yes!" He sat back, clearly exasperated. "I don't want to talk about Sirius anymore." He told Paul, wanting to stop. He didn't want to keep hurting.
"Just answer me one question?" Harry nodded. One question couldn't hurt. "If Sirius had decided to leave the house, stepped into the street, and was run over by a bus, would it have been your fault?" Harry stared at Paul.
"Run over by a bus?" He parroted. "By a bus?"
"Banana peel, staircase, struck by lightening. What have you. Would those methods of death been your fault as a result of his decision to leave the house?" Harry shook his head.
"No. Accidents, mostly. But a bus?" Paul smiled. He had picked the right topic. "A bus?" Harry sounded a bit disgusted with Paul's choice.
"He decided to leave the house, where he was safe, correct?" Harry nodded. "So, he decided to leave the house, and he decided that he would tackle some very dangerous wizards, and he decided that he could do it." He looked at Harry. "You are following me?" He asked Harry.
"His decision." Harry said quietly. "It was his decision." Paul reached over and put a hand on Harry's shoulder.
"His decision." He agreed. Harry looked up at him and Paul saw something different in Harry's eyes. Some of what had darkened them had fled. It lurked in the corners, but it was almost gone. "It's not your fault." Harry took a deep breath and slowly let it out.
"I know." Paul watched as Harry sank into the couch. "I know."
Author's Note: Whew! Ten pages. I'm tired and it's almost one in the morning. Please review if you have any helpful suggestions. I am rather attached to this chapter, so make helpful suggestions.