Chapter 12: Reflections

He picked up the black basin, no longer warm. Slowly, carefully, he poured the light blue contents into a thin clear tube. When the entire bowl was empty, he set it down beside the burnt-out fire. Standing, Harry looked satisfied.

The potion was finished. The six weeks had come to an end. After he turned this in, he would no longer have to work with Adrienne. He didn't know if he still wanted to. The last two weeks had been wild, exhilarating, weird, awkward and confusing. He thought back to the beginning of it all.

He and Adrienne were sitting in Myrtle's bathroom, stirring their potion and talking about nothing in particular. None of their conversation had any real meaning. All of a sudden, they heard a wail and water came rushing, headed directly for them and their potion.

Harry guessed subconsciously that Myrtle was feeling particularly depressed and had flooded the bathroom. Grabbing the hot cauldron with one hand, he grabbed Adrienne's arm with the other. "Come on!" he said as the toilet water extinguished their small fire. As they shut the bathroom door behind them, Adrienne performed a Sealing charm on the door to prohibit the water from following them into the hall. Harry groaned, as the bottoms of his pant legs were soaked. He cursed as he finally felt the burn the hot cauldron had left on his hand, and cursed further as he discovered how diluted with toilet water the potion was.

Then, Myrtle came floating through the wall and hovered above the pair, wailing. Harry processed some unmentionable thoughts in his head.

"Myrtle," he said patiently after calming himself. "What's wrong?"

"What makes you think anything's wrooong?" she wailed.

"Myrtle, please. I'm trying to help."

"Well," she sniffed. "Okay. Some girls were in… there—" she pointed to the closed door of the bathroom—"this morning. They were talking about… you," she said, pointing to Adrienne. "I didn't really mind, but then they started to talk about you, Harry. They said you were acting odd lately, and how weird it was for you to be spending so much time with her." She thrust an accusing finger at Adrienne again. "So I told them that Harry is a perfectly respectable… man…" she giggled, "and that they should be eaten by the giant squid for ever talking bad about him." She started crying again. "So then they started teasing me about my glasses, and that I was a dead girl who liked a living boy, and that I haunted a bathroom, and anything else they could think of! So I dumped a toilet on them and left!" she wailed.

"Is that the end of the story, Myrtle?" Harry asked. Myrtle shook her head vigorously, still crying. "Tell me the rest," he said kindly. Adrienne watched.

"So… so then I went to the Prefects' bathroom, because the boys in there usually cheer me up. But it was a Slytherin and he threw stuff at me and tried to hex me. So I flushed myself out to the lake and the merpeople surrounded me and jabbed their weapons at me and the men taunted me. It was awful," she squeaked.

"Oh, Myrtle." Harry sighed. "You've had a rough day."

She nodded. "Mmhmm," she said, and cried.

"Some people are just stupid and you have to realize that and ignore them. Don't let them get to you. Why don't you go to the Quidditch pitch and stay there for a little while? The fresh air'll help you feel better."

She's a ghost, Adrienne thought bitterly. She's immune to air.

But surprisingly, Myrtle croaked, "Okay." She swept down and kissed Harry on the cheek. Harry winced but Myrtle didn't notice. Giggling, she floated outside.

"Hey Myrtle!" Harry called after her. She came back, eager. "D'you know where we can get some Confusing Concoction really quickly?"

"Sorry, no." With that, she floated away.

"Damn."

Adrienne thought of something. "Don't worry about it," she said. "I'll take care of it."

"But how—?"

"I'll take care of it," she repeated.

And she had. Before him was a vial of, at least to his knowledge, a perfect Confusing Concoction. He didn't know where she had gotten it or how she had come up with some so fast, but frankly, he didn't care much. He needed this grade in Potions.

Adrienne had healed the burn on his hand after she had said that, and two weeks later—this morning—she had given him the blue potion and told him to put it over the flame for an hour before class. He hadn't bothered to ask where it had come from.

Just a little while after the bathroom-flooding—a day or two, he wasn't sure—Adrienne had approached him on the pitch after Quidditch practice.

"Got any plans?" she asked as he dismounted his broom.

"Actually, yeah." He wasn't in a talking mood as he was going to visit Sirius soon and he wanted to be cold and unfeeling so as not to be disappointed yet again.

"Mind if I accompany you?" she asked.

Crap. Harry couldn't bluntly say no, but he didn't want any company. He hadn't even told Ron and Hermione, and he would want Adrienne accompanying him even less.

"Well… I'm going to visit Sirius, so it's kind of personal," he hinted.

"I promise I won't be a nuisance," she said.

Harry groaned inwardly. This girl was desperate and he didn't know why. He didn't know how to respond, so he said nothing and made his way to the castle. Adrienne followed.

When they entered the Room of Requirement (Harry saying 'Padfoot' robotically as it was now a habitual exercise and because he wanted to be unfeeling still), Sirius was asleep on top of a few pillows on the floor. Harry didn't want to wake him, but Adrienne had never been to this room and didn't know with what speed the door closed. As she didn't slow down its closing when she entered behind Harry, the door slammed shut, jolting Sirius out of his slumber.

"Wh—?" he said sleepily, confused.

"Hi, Sirius." Harry tried to keep as much feeling out of his voice as possible. "This is Adrienne. Remember her?" Harry realized that he was talking to his godfather as if Sirius was a kid, and immediately beat himself up about it. Sirius nodded darkly, but said nothing to Adrienne. "Sorry we woke you," Harry apologized.

Sirius waved it away. "It's not your fault. It's an odd time of day to be sleeping. I just haven't been getting a lot of sleep lately. I have these odd nightmares and I don't know what they mean."

Harry's heart quickened painfully. "What about? Maybe I can help."

Sirius shook his head. "Nonsense, don't bother yourself with my petty problems. I'm sure you have a lot going on in your life to focus on. So tell me what's going on."

Harry was finding it very hard not to cry. Sirius was his focus.

This is all new to me. I've never kept one of these before…well, ironically, I wouldn't know if I've ever done anything before in my life. I don't remember a thing, including keeping a dream diary. Not a damn thing. But it doesn't sound like something I would do. I mean, I am still me… am I not? I don't know what to believe. I don't know if I had a completely different character before. I may be a different person now. What scares me more, though, now that I think about it, than being a different person is how Harry would take it. What if the person he knew, the godfather he was waiting for and longing for, is gone forever after he had hoped so hard, so desperately, to have him back?

This is a dream diary, of course, and before I forget any more than I already have I'd better write the wisps I have down.

It is night. At least, it is dark. I am in a dark and musty room. I have just woken up and find myself horizontal on the floor. I try to get up but notice I am magically bound. I make a thud as I fall back to the planked floor. The sound causes two men to turn around and face me.

"Ah, Black, you're awake," says a cold voice. "Excellent."

"Let me go." I am startled to find this voice is mine.

The voice chuckles. It sounds like fingernails on a chalkboard, snakes slithering in the desert, ice cutting skin. "Get in here."

At first I think he means me, and prepare to give him a smart remark about my current physical condition. Then I notice a smaller figure enter my line of vision. He says nothing. The owner of the voice motions. He does nothing. The owner of the voice hisses something at the short man. He still stands. The voice hits him in the back of the head, knocking off his hook and revealing long hair for a boy. I think it is black but with this light I can't tell. I guess he is young, probably a teenager. The voice pulls out his wand and points it at the boy threateningly.

At this, the boy stumbles forward. I still can't see his face, but I could if he comes closer. I'm not sure if I want him to or not. I wake up before he steps into the light.

I woke up, drenched in cold sweat. I got up slowly and made tea.

The first snowfall had come and gone, and Hogsmeade was filled with its usual flurry of students and other customers caught in the excitement of the holiday season. Adrienne hurried through the eager and chatty students, anxious and not willing to be seen. She turned a corner and entered a run-down, crumbling shack. She shut the door behind her. It creaked and clicked. It was awfully dark.

It was unnaturally and uncomfortably warm in this room, but Adrienne kept her coat wrapped snugly around her body. She was shivering. She stood, silent and unmoving.

She doesn't want to remember what happens next, but it won't leave her alone. It has followed her up the streets, to her dorm, and sits with her in her cold bed. It whispers in her ear, cruel, taunting. But she won't let herself remember. She wishes she had a Pensive. She wills herself not to forget, but to not remember. Don't remember, don't remember…

All she remembers now is the cold. The icy chill that froze her spine. The wind that blew right through her as if she wasn't there, scattering her all over the room like dust. The penetrating, unforgettable cold. And the pain.

"Goodbye," Adrienne said stiffly. "Have a lovely holiday," she said, and boarded the train. Harry didn't get a chance to say anything.

At that moment, hands grabbed him around the waist and a face buried itself in Harry's back. He twisted around to find Hermione hugging him tightly.

"Bye, Harry. Don't get into trouble. We'll write," she said emotionally.

"Later, mate," Ron clapped him on the back. "Take care."

Harry smiled and said his goodbyes. After the train was clearly out of sight, he turned and headed back to the castle. Feeling bored and helpless, he took the staircase. Maybe he would spend the Christmas holidays with Sirius.

It was midway through the Christmas holidays. Harry had decided to stay at Hogwarts, as he always did, and Ron and Hermione had chosen their usual. He climbed down the stairs, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and headed toward breakfast.

On his way toward the grand staircase, he heard quiet but audible whimpering coming from a nearby broom closet. When he opened the door, he discovered Adrienne curled tightly into a ball, her arms clenched so tightly around the knees at her chest that they were white.

Harry was taken aback. "What are you doing here?"

Adrienne didn't move her gaze. Her cheeks were dry, but her teeth were clenched tightly. Harry touched her shoulder and she started, surprised at his touch.

"Come on," Harry said. "Let's get some breakfast." Adrienne looked worn and tired, her bones poking through her skin. Harry couldn't fathom how a person could lose so much weight in a week.

"Ice cream," he suggested. After some persuasion, she got up and followed him.

While they ate ice cream and sat by the fire in the Gryffindor Common Room, a perfect balance of hot and cold, Harry said nothing. He waited for Adrienne to talk so he could comfort her. It was, after all, what he was good at—playing the hero, the rescuer. She said nothing. He felt uncomfortable.

He touched her arm, unsure of how to console her without words. A paralyzing shock overtook him. Images flashed before his eyes. There was a circle of masked figures surrounding a tall and slender figure and a shorter one. The small one was screaming. Another scene showed a young girl in a tree, huddled like Harry had found Adrienne earlier in the broom closet. Yet another bared a teenager shackled to a wall. Her face was solemn and unfeeling.

Then more images. Cho's wet eyes came nearer, Dudley shoved a mop of unruly black hair down a too-familiar toilet, clothes that were too big and ugly shrank to fit a doll in a matter of seconds. Harry reeled back. Adrienne sat still, unmoved.

"Adrienne?" Harry asked. She whipped her around to face him. Her stormy, raging eyes told him not to ask any more questions other than the one he had already asked.

A/N: Sorry I haven't updated in ages. Decades. I'm not surprised I only had one reviewer for the last chapter. School is really busy and really demanding right now, but in two and a half weeks it will be summer. I hope you—those of you who are still reading—will bear with me. I have a devised a more efficient system of writing, and it also produces better writing, or so I've hypothesized. So I know I'm just producing junk right now but I'm going to work seriously hard to make it better. Next chapterimprovement. It's basically guaranteed.

potts—Thanks for your review, as always. And it's not your fault; I hardly ever post. :