I own nothing.
A/N: I want to make one thing clear since I mention it in this chapter. Marriage contracts, like you see all the time in fanfiction, does not exist in this story. Yes, the concept of arrange marriages exist but there's no signing away children as infants to the first son of blah blah bullshit. No old documents sitting in Gringotts that says a person has to honor a marriage set up by someone's great-great whatever. In this story, arrange marriages happen when there's a need for two families to create a lasting bond as a prelude to future business or political alliances, etc. These are open arrangements where both sides are free to back out if they so desire. Anything else is just cheap conflict for bad fiction.
Chapter XVI
May 1992
Harry's eyes flew open as he shot up from the bed he lay in. He immediately regretted it. His hand instantly went to his chest to find it heavily bandaged with a medium sized blot of blood soaked through. The pain was immense.
"Harry! You're awake!"
Harry fell back down in his bed and did his best to regain his breath over the pain. He looked to his side and squinted as best he could to just make out Danny's face. He felt something placed in his hand and recognized it as his glasses. He put them on and the scene around him came into view.
Only Danny sat by his bed. He looked ragged as if he hadn't slept for days.
"Hey, little brother," Harry croaked. His mouth was extremely dry and it was difficult to speak. Danny immediately went to the jug of water and poured Harry a glass.
"Here, drink this. I've got to go tell everyone you're awake."
Danny raced off before Harry could ask a question. He sipped the water and enjoyed the cool sensation as it passed through his body. His chest still ached and he had to keep his breathing shallow. He looked around the infirmary and found it empty, which was odd given how close exams were. Usually, the hospital wing was packed with students that had accidentally harmed themselves while practicing spells.
A rush of footsteps drew his attention and he was surprised to see quite an entourage coming his way, among them; Madam Pomfrey, Professor Dumbledore, Danny, and the centaur Firenze. But the person that surprised Harry the most was his mother who led the group.
Harry felt tears well up at the distraught look on his mother's face. He eagerly welcomed her as she engulfed him in her arms.
"Oh Harry, my boy!" Lily cried. Harry ignored the pain in his chest and desperately clung to his mother. Lily pulled back and framed Harry's face in her hands, tears streaming down her face.
"How do you feel? Does it hurt?" She looked to his chest and noticed the blot of blood that now had increased. "Poppy! His wound's reopened!"
Madam Pomfrey stepped up and eased Harry to lie back down. She waved her wand over his chest and the pain slowly dissipated.
"You must take it easy, Mr. Potter. Your wound is going to take time to heal."
"Why?" Harry didn't understand. Magic should have easily handled his injury.
"Our arrows are coated in a special poison that resist most healing methods. I have come to assist," said Firenze as he trotted to the other side of the bed and held his hand over Harry's chest. He closed his eyes and muttered a few words. When his eyes opened again, he looked to Madam Pomfrey.
"The poison is nearly gone. A few more days and he'll recover completely."
"How long have I been out?"
"Three days."
Harry blanched at the news. Three days! His dream. The graveyard. It had felt like an eternity yet only three days had gone by. He remembered everything from his near-death experience. Every tiny detail inside that graveyard but what scared him the most was the anger he felt. It was like he had become a whole other person. He felt as if it had something to do with the strange black markings that covered his body. But what were they?
Harry closed his eyes to remember but all he could see were the headstones and the woman with sorrowful eyes.
Those eyes. He'd never forget those eyes and what she had said to him.
'You must not do it.'
Harry looked to his mother and then his brother. He could never hurt them, any of them.
What did it all mean?
Lily, as if sensing her son's inner turmoil, sat on the side of the bed and brushed her hand along Harry's face.
"Are you alright, sweetheart?"
He could tell them. Share what he had seen.
"I'm fine."
He wouldn't, though. There was no way it was true so he wouldn't worry them. He put on a smile and cupped his mother's hand to reassure her.
"I think it would be best, Mr. Potter, if you were to cease your trips into the forest. I'm afraid that the conflict between the spiders and centaurs is far from over," said Dumbledore.
"I would agree," Firenze concurred.
Lily rose from her place and stood directly in front of Dumbledore. She then promptly slapped him right across the face with a resounding crack. Dumbledore stumbled slightly and appeared in a sort of daze but that didn't stop Lily.
"How dare you encourage my son to enter the forest in the first place!? You knew the dangers and you let both my children-"
"Mum!" Harry called and immediately felt the pain of doing so. "It's not the headmaster's fault." Harry eyed Pomfrey and Firenze carefully. Only they didn't know about Danny and the real reason why he and his brother were in the forest.
Lily collected herself and turned to her son. "It's over, Harry. Never again. Promise me."
"I promise." Harry meant it. He couldn't take the chance that either he or Danny fell in the line of fire again. Finding a new place to train unwatched was going to be difficult but he couldn't deny his mother this request. Not when it was clearly common sense.
Lily turned back to Dumbledore. Her face became flushed as she realized what she had done to him. She couldn't look him in the eyes and once again felt like a student sent to the headmaster's office for punishment; not that she ever had, of course.
"I'm sorry, Professor."
"Never your mind, Lily. I've spent enough time as headmaster to know to never stand between a mother and their child's safety." Dumbledore replied as he circled his wand over his reddening cheek, the color soon fading away.
"The forest, though, how has it gotten so bad?"
It was a fair question, Harry thought. As far as he had known, the path he and Danny took to the clearing was well within the centaur's territory, and thus, safe to travel.
"There was an uprising within the acromantulas." There was a small level of contempt in Firenze's tone when he spoke next. "They rebelled against their father and killed him."
"They now wish to expand their feeding ground to the school," added Dumbledore regretfully.
"But why hasn't the Ministry gotten involved?" asked Lily frantically. As a mother, the thought that a threat lay so close to a castle full of children, especially her two sons, terrified her.
"We will not allow it!" Firenze retorted. "The forest is our domain and we will defend it."
Harry wasn't surprised to hear such sentiments. The centaurs were a proud race that would never admit that they needed help defending their borders, especially from wizards. Luckily, the acromantulas were deep within the forest while the centaurs held the area along the outer borders of the forest. Effectively putting them in between the spiders and the school. And yet, it was still a little disconcerting.
Lily narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. "How then did my son end up with an arrow in his chest?"
Harry was surprised to see Firenze completely unfazed by his mother's gaze. His Dad and uncles would wither under such scrutiny.
"Many of our young warriors have been placed somewhat prematurely on the front lines. I assure you that the one responsible is being dealt with." Firenze turned to address Dumbledore. "I must take my leave, Headmaster. I am, no doubt, needed for the warrior's recovery."
"Thank you, Firenze."
Firenze bowed. "Send for me if the need arises."
"We all should leave. Mr. Potter needs to rest," said Pomfrey as she handed him a vial of Pain Relieving Potion.
Harry didn't argue and downed the ill-tasting potion. He already could feel his eyes getting heavy. Lily retook her seat on his bedside and took his hand.
"I'll stay with him. Danny, you should go on. You've got exams to study for."
"Yes, Mum."
Harry could tell his brother didn't want to leave so he gave him a reassuring smile which Danny only slightly returned. Soon, only Lily and Harry remained. Lily ran her hand through Harry's hair.
"Go back to sleep, Harry. I'll be here when you wake up."
Feeling his mother's comfort, Harry let his eyes close and sleep overtook him.
Harry didn't sleep well at all. Whenever he closed his eyes, he ended up back at the graveyard with the headstones of his friends and family. It had taken a considerable amount of persuasion to convince his mother that he was going to be alright and that she should return home. She finally relented but made him swear to keep her updated or else she was going to drag him home herself.
Later that day, Madam Pomfrey informed him that his friends were there to see him. Harry couldn't help but smile when he saw Fred, George, and Danny enter the hospital wing. He curiously looked behind them but Daphne wasn't among them. For some reason he hoped she would be.
"Hiya Harry," said Fred.
"You look like crap," George added.
Harry chuckled but it soon turned to painful coughs as it still hurt to laugh.
"Don't make me laugh, you idiots."
George and Fred shrugged simultaneously.
"Ah, can't help you there, mate."
"It's what we do best."
Harry smiled as he shook his head at them before he turned to Danny.
"Where's Granger?" He was surprised that she hadn't rushed to his side, though, he didn't mind at all that she hadn't.
"She was afraid you'd get mad at her if she showed up," said Danny as he laughed. By this point, Danny and the twins couldn't help but find Hermione's crush on him as nothing but hilarious.
"Poor girl." George jokingly shook his head solemnly.
"Can't say much for her choice in men." Fred joined George in mock disappointment.
"Shut it, both of you." Harry warned sternly.
"I don't know what you were talking about Danny. He sounds like normal."
"You'd think dying would unleash the big softie we all know you secretly are."
Harry smiled but it was only for appearance's sake. He knew it was in jest but even the light-spirited twins could see his tendency towards anger. He looked to Fred and George and could visualize their headstones in his mind.
"So, Harry, when you going to bust out of this place?"
"You're probably dying of boredom."
They both knew that Harry couldn't stand being idle and it was just like them to rub it in like this.
"Madam Pomfrey says by the end of the week." Harry was counting the minutes. He couldn't wait to get out of here.
"Sweet, we've got some things in motion that should brighten your spirits."
"What?" Harry perked up.
"You'll see." George smiled devilishly.
Fred then tried to appear as nonchalant as possible. "Quick question, no big deal, but pink or purple?"
"Why?" Harry asked skeptically.
"No reason."
"Purple, then." Jasmine grew around the gazebo that sat on the edge of the Cove. Harry and Danny had spent a lot of time there and Harry enjoyed the view.
"Excellent choice." Fred smiled and outstretched his hand to his brother. George groaned grumpily as he reached into his robes and placed a couple galleons into Fred's hand.
"Who's ahead?" asked Danny. He and Harry had witnessed the twins exchange money numerous times from the countless bets the two made with each other.
"I am now." Fred held up the two galleons excitedly.
"By how much?" asked Danny.
"Two galleons," said Fred with the same excitement. George, meanwhile, was inconsolable.
The four of them continued to talk and pass the time. Fred and George's attempts at making Harry laugh persisted despite his threats to make them feel the pain he felt every time they did so. Even still, the atmosphere remain light and Harry could appreciate the twins and his brother's attempt to lighten his spirits but he could never quite rid himself of the dark foreboding feeling of his experience in the graveyard.
Blood. There was blood everywhere. So much, that a river now flowed as more and more of the red liquid rained down from the sky. Harry stood calmly among it all, the river of blood coming to his waist. His hair was matted down and not a single inch of his face remained uncovered in the sticky metallic substance. He spread his arms and allowed his hands to sink into the steady stream. He smiled softly as he watched the ripple effect and wiggled his fingers to create different patterns.
Harry's eyes slowly opened. This was just the latest dream that prevented him from sleeping. Over and over, he'd witness different scenes: blood, graves, and the black pulsating tattoos. At times, he frantically sought a way out. At others, he felt an uncontrollable rage. Finally, like his most recent, he felt unnervingly calm almost as if he was enjoying himself. He inevitably relented that he was going to have yet another sleepless night.
Harry then suddenly realized that he wasn't alone. Through the blurriness, he could make out a person seated beside him. Harry reached for his glasses and put them on. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes before he looked to see Daphne staring back at him.
"What're you doing here?" Harry asked as he yawned.
Harry didn't know the time but he could tell it was extremely late. He wasn't going to complain, though. He wasn't likely to get anymore sleep that night and could use the distraction that Daphne usually provided.
"Seeing if you're okay, of course," she responded as if it wasn't unusual at all that it was well after curfew and she wasn't breaking school rules to see him.
Harry pushed himself up which caused his sheet to fall and reveal his bare and heavily bandaged chest. Daphne's eyes were involuntary drawn to the red blot of blood that lie over his wound. Harry followed her gaze and stared down at his chest.
"You wouldn't happen to have any more of that Essences of Panacea."
Daphne shook her head. "It wouldn't do any good. It's only for open wounds, it can't stop the poison from reopening it."
"Figures." Harry closed his weary eyes and leaned back to rest his head against the headboard.
"Are you okay?" Daphne asked softly.
Harry opened his eyes to look at her. He could see her looking at the dark, heavy bags that now cradled his eyes. His cheeks were narrower and his skin looked wrinkled and sickly. Most of it was due to the poison while the rest was sleep deprivation. Needless to say, he certainly wasn't looking his best right now, and yet, it was still strange to see her usual veil of indifference replaced with genuine concern.
"Yeah, I'll be fine," he responded just as softly. It was a lie, of course, as he didn't have any idea what he was but it wasn't something he'd burden her with.
Daphne nodded as she shyly looked away from him. "You should really stop getting in these kind of situations."
"Believe me, I don't enjoy them." Harry adjusted his pillow to better support his lower back.
"Yes, well, you can't very well save the world if you're dead." She tilted her head at him sarcastically as she slipped back into her usual demeanor.
Harry dropped his head. "It's not my destiny."
"You'll be involved," she countered matter-of-factly.
"And you'll be in Bulgaria married to Krum, I'd imagine." Harry didn't know what made him say that.
"Probably." Though Daphne was never one to express a lot of emotion, she sounded even less enthused than usual.
"You don't sound too excited about it."
She shrugged. "It's what needs to happen. Viktor is quickly rising on the Quidditch circuit and can give me everything I need."
Harry could understand her line of thinking. Quidditch was their world's obsession and its players were superstars. Marrying one would put Daphne in the public light and that much more protected.
'Everything she needs, but not what she wants.' The thought crossed his mind.
"You hate Quidditch."
Daphne shrugged again. "So."
"What's Viktor getting out of all this?"
"The pleasure of my company." Harry, despite the pain, couldn't stop himself from snorting in disbelief. For once, though, Daphne didn't admonish him for it. She just stared back at him coolly. "Viktor likes smart girls."
"So why is he interested in you?" Harry asked with a teasing smile.
This time, Daphne glared at him but didn't say anything.
"So it sounds like a done deal, then."
For some reason, the idea didn't sit right with him. Was it that he believed that marriage was about loving someone, not some kind of business arrangement? Why did he hate the idea of Daphne with Krum?
'Her name was in the graveyard.'
Those headstones had the names of all the people he cared about most. Why was her name there?
'Because we're friends. Because she challenges me. Because I—'
"Nothing is certain," Daphne interrupted his thoughts.
"Because of Malfoy, right?"
Daphne only nodded.
"Do you know what he's planning?" he probed.
She annoyingly stared at him. She was obviously tired of him bringing it up. "Does it matter?"
Harry thought about it and he had to admit that it really didn't. If the Malfoys were involved, then it could only be bad. Whatever it was, Daphne shouldn't have to get entangled with them. A sudden idea came to him and it consumed him with an uncomfortable sense of shyness.
"Um…Daphne, I have to tell you something."
"Then spit it out."
Harry pushed aside his feelings and stared her right in the eyes.
"My father told to me to get to know you. To find out what the Malfoys want with you and that would determine if we'd help you."
Daphne's mouth dropped slightly and she looked away. "Oh…I see." She appeared very confused and unsure of what to say.
"I'm going to do it anyways." She looked up at him quickly. "You should be free to make your own choices."
She stared at him for a moment as if analyzing his intentions but Harry had no alternative motives. He did see her as a friend, not just some associate or ally. Therefore, there shouldn't be anything hidden underneath it as the cause. Sure they both had their secrets but those were about family and if anyone could understand that it was Harry.
"Thank you, Harry."
Harry smiled at her. "It's what any friend would do."
Once again, there was a slight twitch of smile on her face. It was there for only a second, barely visible in the low lighting of the infirmary, but Harry saw it.
July 1992
Danny dodged quickly to his left as he tried to evade his opponent's spell-fire. He didn't have much time to react and failed to raise a shield in time. The Stinging Hex hit him square in the right shoulder and he was knocked on his rear. His hand instinctively went to his shoulder.
"Ow!" He rubbed the spot a few times as he sourly stared back at his Uncle Moony.
"What happened Danny?" asked Remus in an instructional manner.
"I went left when I should have gone right."
"So why did you go to your left."
"I don't know. Habit, I guess."
"You must be adaptable to the duel's circumstances. 'Habits' can cost you if your opponent recognizes them."
Danny nodded. His Uncle Moony was right and he understood that but he still made the same mistakes. He rose back to his feet and rubbed his shoulder some more.
"What do I do?"
"Be mindful of your surroundings, your opponent, and yourself. You must predict your opponent's movements while remaining unpredictable."
"Like this." Danny quickly raised his hand and sent a blue stream of light towards Remus. Danny thought he had caught his uncle off-guard but Remus easily sidestepped the spell and cast one of his own. Once again, Danny ended up on the ground.
"You made that too easy, Danny."
Danny scrunched his face in annoyance.
"I went to the right this time," he whined as he continued to rub his shoulder. He had been hit by too many Stinging Hexes for his liking.
"I knew you would."
"I thought you'd know that I know that you'd know I would go to the right so I thought you would think I would go to the left so I did the opposite."
They stared at each other for a second before Remus couldn't contain his laughter. Danny's face soured further.
"That didn't make any sense," Remus said between chuckles.
"I was trying to do what you said." He didn't appreciate Moony laughing at him for following his instructions.
Remus waved his hands back and forth. "Not like that, Danny." Remus laughed a little. "You're thinking too much. You just need to be aware that each duel is different and you must be able to change accordingly."
Danny grew even more frustrated but more so with himself. This kind of stuff just didn't come natural to him. Not like with Harry who some days could even land a few spells on their agile Uncle Moony.
But Harry wasn't here. In fact, Danny hadn't seen his brother all summer.
After Harry had been released from the hospital wing at Hogwarts, he had become very quiet and didn't seem interested at all in doing the things from their regular routine. They stopped training in the mornings and meeting up in the library to study. Danny had tried to ask Greengrass what was wrong with Harry but she had brushed him off saying she was too busy to speak to him. Apparently, she was acting in Harry's place as the leader of Slytherin.
It wasn't until finals were approaching that Danny managed an actual conversation with his older brother but even then it was only about how prepared he was for his exams. He couldn't help but notice his brother's ashen appearance as if he hadn't slept for days. He had looked so fragile and weak that it had reminded Danny of photos he had seen of people who had spent years inside Azkaban prison. Danny had tried to find out what was wrong but Harry refused to speak to him about it. Harry, like always, was more concerned about him and making sure he passed his end-of-the-year exams.
Once they had returned home, Harry had locked himself in his room and he hadn't come out since. He didn't even come out for meals, instead, Gretel would deliver them to him in his room. Danny had yet to see him all summer but at night he could hear crying and frightened screams coming from his brother's room. It was obvious that the events of Harry's near-death experience ran deeper than Danny knew and he just wanted to help. He just needed his brother to let him.
Danny turned and took a long mournful look at the manor, particularly at a single window on the second floor.
"I'm worried, James."
"I'm worried too."
"He hasn't come out of his room for three weeks." Lily looked down at him and James could see the emotional toil this ordeal was having on her.
"I know, Lily." He slipped his hand into hers and rubbed it softly.
"Why won't he talk to us?" This time she sounded more confused than mournful.
James continued to rub her hand softly and slowly shook his head. "I don't know."
Lily slowly turned and gave James a resentful look as she pulled her hand from his. "Don't you?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" James didn't understand as Lily's expression hardened.
"You made him this way. You trained him to lock away his feelings and now I don't know what's wrong with my son."
"He's my son, too."
Lily acted like she didn't hear him. "And you always said you'd never force our children into all this Head-of-House pureblood nonsense."
"I did what was necessary to protect us. Harry understood that."
"How could he? He was just a boy. A little boy who idolized his father. He would have never said no if you asked him to do something."
"I didn't want this either, Lily."
"But you laid the ground work so it would." There was a pause of tense silence. Lily stared daggers at James. "You decided to make him Heir Apparent. I didn't agree but you did it anyway. You made him feel like he had do this alone."
James could only manage a pensive downcast expression as he withstood his wife's verbal attack. This, though, only hardened Lily.
"I want my son back, James. Get him back." She then angrily stormed off.
James first thought was to chase after her but he couldn't make himself move; not because of his wheelchair but because he knew she was right
His thoughts drifted over everything that had occurred since the urgent mirror call from Danny saying that Harry had been hurt. The anxious hours of waiting in the empty manor for news had driven him stir crazy. He cursed this infernal wheelchair and his inability to do the things he once could. Instead, he was forced to just seat and wait for news instead of being out there doing his part. Not just as fighter against Voldemort but as a father.
There were always days that he'd spent wondering about what might have been if the events on Harry's tenth birthday had never occurred. He remembered the first weeks when he struggled to come to grips that he'd never walk again and the utter helplessness he felt. He couldn't even transform into his animagus form anymore. It required full synchronization between his body and magic but without the feeling of his lower body the transformation would never take. He'd never feel the exhilaration of galloping through trees and rivers ever again.
But the worst part of all of it, was his inability to protect his family anymore. Sure, his magic powered the wards that sheltered them but that was the end of it. It was then that he truly came to understand how fortunate he was to have a son like Harry. Harry didn't hesitate. He didn't complain. He didn't question. All he needed were the tools to succeed and James had every confidence that he would. Occlumency, political strategy, combat training, everything; Harry took to it like a natural. James had never been prouder.
And now.
Now he was beginning to reap what he had sown. Lily was right. Harry stopped being a child many years ago and it all started once James had made the decision to tell him their family's secret. He was one that pushed Harry harder. To be the best. Because deep down he knew that Danny would never be the person capable of fighting a war. Not the kind that Voldemort was certain to wrought.
James remembered what he had been like before he and the then pregnant Lily had gone into hiding. The sheer devastation and chaos that ruled their world had caused James to wonder if it had been right to bring a child into it. The disappearances, the uncertainty, not knowing who to trust and whether or not a person still had control of their own mind had left James with so much doubt. But the moment that Harry had been placed in arms and he was first called 'Daddy,' he knew. He knew what he was fighting for and why good would always triumph. That, of course, hadn't made anything easier for them and their lives were constantly at risk but knowing that his son was going to grow up filled him with the motivation to keep fighting.
And Harry.
He was everything James and Lily could have hoped for. He was the smile when news of the recent dead were delivered. He was the hug when it felt like there was no hope. He was the strength to never quit.
When Danny was born, James knew that Harry would always been there for him. He swelled with so much pride only to be crushed by the devastating news of his youngest son's fate. And yet, Harry was always there and James was reminded just how lucky he was to have a son like him.
Tears now flowed freely down his face. The only hope he could cling to was that he still had a chance to get that same son back.
Harry's eyes slowly opened. He turned to the clock by his bed and could only sigh.
'Only thirty minutes this time.'
The longest a human being had ever gone without sleep was close to eleven days; and he was a muggle. With magic, a wizard could go longer but they were still susceptible to the side-effects of sleep deprivation. Hallucinations, headaches, memory lapses, and depression; Harry felt them all. Since his near-death experience back in May, he managed only to get about three to four cumulative hours of sleep each night; usually in thirty to forty minute increments.
Harry slowly climbed out of his bed and shuffled to his desk. It was littered with volumes of text and empty mugs.
"Gretel," he croaked. He didn't even recognize his own voice anymore.
The female house-elf popped next to him with a large mug of steaming coffee.
"Here's you go, Master Harry," said Gretel meekly.
"Thank you, Gretel." He didn't bother to look up but he could sense that she hadn't left.
"Master Harry…" Gretel started and then stopped.
"What is it, Gretel?" He still didn't look at her.
"Master Harry should be drinking no more coffee," she said more authoritatively. "Master should rest."
"I can't sleep," he answered dismissively.
"Why not, Master Harry?"
Harry finally stopped and put down his quill to look at her. He could see her concern in her large round eyes. "My dreams won't let me."
Gretel stepped forward and placed a comforting hand on Harry's arm. "Master Harry should tell the Master and Mistress. The Master and Mistress can help Young Master."
Harry looked at her hand for a second before he roughly ripped his arm free. "No, Gretel. I forbid you from telling them."
Gretel looked near tears but was honor bound to do as he commanded. "Yes, Master Harry."
When Gretel popped away, Harry had a brief moment of guilt on how he treated her. She, after all, was simply performing her duty to look after him and his family, but she couldn't. Harry needed to understand these dreams and why they never ceased.
The effects, though, were starting to take their toll. And what little of his strength remained was devoured by his obsession. He could feel the achiness of his muscles and joints. Moving was difficult. The most he could exert himself were the secret excursions to the library to gather the books he needed for his research.
At first, he searched for whatever he could find on dreams and their interpretations. He even looked into seers and the process through which they received their prophecies. What he found, though, made it quite obvious that he was no seer but that still didn't remove the prophetic nature of his dreams.
More presently, his focus was more on ways to hide what was wrong. He looked down on his desktop to a single pair of glasses which were an exact replica of his own.
Glamours were a difficult branch of magic. Perfection was impossible which in itself made them dangerous for any who relied on them. Many of his first lessons in magic were about their detection and neutralization. That made what he was currently attempting that much more difficult.
He grabbed the volume from the top of the stack on his right. He flipped through the pages until he found the one he wanted. He pulled his wand and tapped it along the frame of the glasses. All the while, chanting the words on the page. Once he finished the incantation, he repeated the process while tapping his wand along the edges of his face all the way down to his neck.
The process complete, Harry placed his wand down and leaned back in exhaustion. Normally, Harry could manage this kind of spell weaving but he just couldn't maintain any kind of energy.
'One night. Just one night of sleep is all I need.'
But that wasn't likely to happen. Mustering what he could, Harry pushed himself back up to check if the spell had took. He held up the frame and aligned it with his face. Out of thin air, a replica of Harry's face and neck appeared. Harry pushed down his hair, which he had grown out to hopeful hide the edges of the glamour, and rose from his chair to head to the bathroom.
Harry avoided looking into the mirror as he was sure the picture wasn't pretty. He kept his head down and replaced his normal glasses for the enchanted ones. It was a bit odd to watch a reverse image of his own face slide over his own. The frames in place, Harry groomed his hair again and pushed it around to cover the sides of his neck.
He felt a little apprehensive as he slowly looked up.
Black.
Empty.
Dead.
He reeled back until he hit the opposite wall. His normally vibrant green eyes were instead completely black. He ripped the glasses off and shattered them against the wall. Harry crumpled against the wall and ended up in the fettle position. His whole body shook and tears fell freely from his eyes.
He had seen those cold black eyes every time he returned to the graveyard in his dreams. He was forced to watch a disfigured clone of himself with the same eyes and sickly black tattoos commit heinous acts against random people. He didn't recognize any of his torture victims but he couldn't forget the mangled bodies of the men, women, and even children. He had bathed in their blood and made trophies of their corpses. All done with a smile he could not recognize: an evil sadistic smile. It was this twisted version of himself that made him fear going to sleep each night and now he seen him during his waking hours. He couldn't escape it.
Harry buried his head in his hands and wept.
He was nervous. Nervous! Him! It was such a crazy thought and he couldn't quite believe it himself.
Sirius stared back at his reflection in the mirror as he fiddled with his hair for the umpteenth time. He had on his best robes, his best cologne, and had even shaved off his beard.
"Alright, Padfoot. You can do this." Sirius motivated himself. "You've been on hundreds of these. This one's no different."
But this one was different. He actually liked this woman and she even had the family lineage so it would fulfill the bargain he made with his father. He couldn't believe his luck to manage to meet such a woman. He couldn't mess this up. All his life up till now, he had only seen women for his own pleasure. It wasn't honorable. He knew that but, to Sirius, it was a means to rebel against his family. Growing up in the Black Family was never easy for him. Everything was rooted on traditions and purity which drove Sirius to be as impure as possible. Throughout his Hogwarts years, he found himself all over the castle in all kinds of questionable positions.
A small smile crept on his face at the memories.
His behavior only intensified after he discovered his animagus form was of a large black dog. He'd finally become the insatiable 'horn-dog,' as James would often say. However, his reputation made any chance of finding a serious relationship impossible while at Hogwarts. After so many years as a swinging bachelor, the thought of going on this serious date secretly terrified him.
With one last fluff of his hair, Sirius stepped out of his bathroom and made his way to the living room fireplace to floo out to his date.
As he walked, he could feel the silent tension that filled the air of Potter Cove. Things had been tensed ever since the news that Harry had nearly died. When Sirius had heard the news, his heart sank. Few people would ever think that a man of Sirius's reputation would make a good godfather but Sirius took the responsibility very seriously. Over the years, he and Harry had always been close. Not just because of their training but as friends. It broke Sirius's heart to see the people he counted as family so broken.
'And I'm nervous about a date.'
The timing of it all seemed wrong but this was world they lived in and it stopped for nobody.
Sirius stepped into the living room and he immediately felt the tension in the room. James and Lily were seated on opposite sides of the room but both were acting as if the other wasn't there. They'd been fighting for the last week. Sirius didn't know the details but he could hear the screaming matches. Lily was the first to notice him and his style of dress.
"What are you up to?"
"Nothing." Sirius sped up, hoping to get out before Lily could decipher what he was doing. "Thought I'd have a night out."
James wheeled closer and gave the air a sniff.
"You're going on a date!" cried James with wide eyes.
"What? No I'm not!"
"Yes you are!" A knowing smile crept on James's face. "You're wearing your Filthy Casanova. You only wear that when you've got a date."
Sirius mentally cursed but relented. "Fine, I'm going out to dinner with a nice young woman if you must know."
Lily looked up and down his face before she cried disbelievingly. "You're nervous!"
"Lily, please, who are you talking to?"
"Sirius Black, The Man-with-Delusions-of his-own-Masculinity." Lily answered condescendingly.
Sirius puffed his chest and grabbed his collar, trying to appear as confident as possible. "The one and only."
Sirius could tell that Lily wasn't fooled as he watched her looked him over. His nerves rattled even more the longer Lily remained silent as she walked around him. When she came back around to his front, he felt a few beads of sweet seep down his forehead. Lily crossed her arms and critically examined from the feet up.
"This is what you're going to wear?"
"Why? What's wron-?" he cried but soon regained himself and stared back at Lily accusingly. "No, no no, Lily, you're not doing this to me. I'm Sirius Black. The ladies love Sirius Black."
Lily just stared back at him with her eyebrows slightly raised. Sirius hated that look.
"Lily, please, let the man go," interceded James.
"Thank you, James."
"Now make sure you're home by eleven and remember 'no' means 'no.'"
"I don't like it when you two gang up on me," said Sirius as he grabbed the floo powder and tossed it into the fireplace.
"Diagon Alley."
Sirius looked back and mockingly pouted. "It's really mean." He stepped into to the flame and he was gone.
James and Lily looked to each other as smiles crept onto their faces. The smiles soon faded, though, as they remembered why they weren't speaking. Lily looked away first. She wanted to say something but she didn't want it to lead to another fight.
"James…" her words trailed off as she realized that she and James weren't alone.
"Harry," she whispered softly. Her eyes started to glisten as she looked upon her son. He was standing just outside the living room in the foyer.
"Hi," said Harry as if he'd had just back for a long trip.
Lily raced to him and engulfed her son in her arms.
"Oh Harry, you've had us so worried." Her hands found themselves all over his body as if she'll discover some hidden ailment simply through touch.
"I'm fine, Mum." Harry softly grabbed her hands and pulled back.
"No you're not." She studied his face and could see that something was troubling him. He had traces of bags underneath his eyes and his lips were very chapped.
"I am. I swear," Harry insisted.
Lily didn't buy it, though. "So what have you been doing in your room all this time?"
Harry ducked his head.
"I've been—I've—"
"Tell us, Harry. What's wrong?" Lily prodded further. Harry still hadn't raised his head and when he spoke, Lily detected a little bit of guilt in his voice.
"There's something happening to me that I don't understand. I've been—"
"I think I know what this is about." James answered shrewdly.
Harry looked up quickly and appeared almost frightened. James wheeled over to sit beside Harry and placed his arm around Harry's shoulder.
"I think it's time for father and son to have a little chat." James's brow wiggled suggestively to Lily.
Lily looked between her son and husband. She couldn't shake the feeling that there was something else going on and Harry didn't want to talk about it. She needed time alone with her son. Lily overlapped her husband's arm and pushed it off.
"And what makes you think you can teach him anything." She started escorting Harry away and left the room with one final call from James.
"I got you, didn't I?"
Lily didn't bother to respond as she guided them to one of the studies on the first floor. She locked the door behind her and settled them on the couch.
"Tell me now, Harry. Is this really all just about what your father said it is?"
Harry didn't speak for a moment and appeared to struggle with what he wanted to say. Lily waited patiently, though. She would let Harry open up on his own.
"Yeah, it is." Harry finally answered and Lily's heart sank a little. She sighed deeply.
"Is there someone in particular that's making you feel these feelings?"
"No." Harry said unconvincingly. Lily just gave him a look that said she didn't believe him.
"I don't know."
"What about that one friend of yours?"
"Daphne?"
Lily nodded. She had heard her name mentioned a few times and remembered that she had accompanied Harry to the Circle's Ball.
"She's just a friend."
Lily could sense there was more but knew better than to push it.
"Well, regardless, if there is someone you're thinking about then it's important to realize that she is feeling the same as you."
Harry looked like he doubted that was true but didn't say anything about it. Lily continued.
"I know you're going through changes and I know the thought of talking about them with your mother appears out of the question."
"It's not that, Mum," Harry interjected. "I just don't know what I should be asking."
"I can understand that." Lily was feeling her own sense of uneasiness over the topic they were discussing. A part of her didn't want to accept that one day another person would be the most important woman in her young son's life.
"What was it like for you?" Harry asked rather unexpectedly.
"Me? Well, my mother sat me down and told me to never be alone with a boy and to kick them in the jewels if they ever try something." Lily smiled as she reminisced. Harry, though, looked even more uncomfortable and subconsciously squeezed his legs closer together.
"Did you ever do that to Dad?"
Lily smiled coyly. "A few times…when he deserved it."
"Sirius told me you two didn't like it each other much when you first met."
"He did, did he?" She could see Sirius telling him that. "Well he was right. Your father was not what I would have called 'relationship material' when we first met. We argued all the time. He thought I was uptight and I thought he was too immature."
"What changed?"
"He did and so did I." The memories started flooding back to her. "The war was starting to heat up around then and we both started to see who each other really was. We started to see what we both needed in each other."
"Did you ever date anyone else?"
"Of course. There was a boy I had known since before I knew I was a witch. He had known and had helped me understand what was happening. We stayed friends at Hogwarts and had gone a few dates in our fifth year."
"What happened to him?"
"He changed and I didn't like what he had become." There was a brief pregnant pause as Lily was caught reminiscing about her former friend. She snapped out of it, though, when she noticed Harry starring at her.
"And your father…" Lily trailed off a little as she remembered all the exciting feelings she had felt as a young woman. She felt a little guilty of the way she had been treating James lately.
"…was what you needed," Harry finished for her which brought her back to the conversation.
"Yes, I need him." Lily cupped Harry's face and smiled. "And I need you too."
Harry returned her smile. "I think I understand now. It's about finding what you need in someone else."
"It's a little more complicated than that, but yes."
"Thanks, Mum. This really helped." Harry started to get up and Lily mirrored him.
"Of course, sweetie." Lily brought Harry into a hug. "Is there anything else you wanted to talk about?"
Lily could see Harry hesitate but shook his head.
"No, I'm alright." Lily, again looked skeptical. A small smile crept on Harry's face. "I'll ask Uncle Sirius if I have any more questions."
"You better not."
They both laughed and Lily let the feeling go for now. This had been a big first step but she definitely wanted more. However, she knew she couldn't push him. She knew her son well enough to know that Harry would only open up when he was ready.
And she never could have married a Potter without learning patience.
Harry closed the door to his room and took a deep breath. That was a lot harder then he thought it would be and he didn't even tell them the truth. He hadn't expected to be given 'The Talk' but it had been informative. Perhaps a relationship could help him become a different person. It certainly sounded like his Mum and Dad's relationship had caused both of them to become different people. Maybe he could find someone who could do the same for him.
But who?
Harry didn't know. He'd never taken the time to take stock of the girls around him. He'd hear Fred and George prattle on about the state of the Quidditch locker room and the close proximity to the girl's shower. Harry mostly ignored them. He was always taught to respect those kinds of things. But now…well…curiosity was creeping in.
'What about that one friend of yours?'
Harry shook the thought away. He and Daphne were much too prone to arguments and what he needed were ways to temper those habits.
'Plus, she'd probably laugh in my face…that is, if Daphne ever laughed.'
Harry made his way into his bathroom and splashed some water on his face. He studied his reflection and noticed an improvement in his appearance. He was glad that neither of his parents noticed any physical signs of what he had gone through all these weeks. His method was working, though, he could already feel the exhaustion creeping through his body.
Harry left the bathroom and slowly walked over to his school chest and opened it. He pulled out a single potion phial with a watery purple liquid inside. He held the phial up to his face and examined the contents with apprehension. He knew it was dangerous to be doing what he was doing but he saw no other recourse. The dream was still unclear to him, but Harry wouldn't solve it if he was delirious from sleep deprivation. He sat down on his bed as he shuffled the phial back and forth in his hands. Harry took off his glasses, opened the phial, and downed the potion.
Almost instantly, his eyes grew heavy and felt his body go limp. He fell back into his bed and his eyes were closed before his head hit the pillow.
An image appeared. One that Harry knew well. The image slowly faded, though, as the potion began to take effect. Just before his world went to black, he heard her say one last time.
"You must not do it."