Chapter 4 - Cloaking a Night in a Pawn's Robe

Harry looked at the other people they seemed to be in the same postures and facial positions as when he had entered the room. Hermione and Dumbledore were the exceptions. Dumbledore looked contemplative, and Hermione looked mildly dazed. Harry's eyes scanned the room, his face slightly down cast.

"Sorry I couldn't be of more help." Harry said and stood slowly his thin frame moving to the door when Dumbledore said something that caused him to freeze in his tracks.

"I guess, we can see if we can discover some other way of stopping Tom." Harry turned to look at Dumbledore and then coughed lightly.

"Tom? I thought you said I had to fight a man named Lord Voldemort." Harry said slowly and was surprised when the aging wizard wrote out: 'I AM LORD VOLDEMORT' in the air and then rearranged the letters so it came out to say: 'TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE.'

Harry was shocked as his hand clenched and then he looked straight at Dumbledore and asked in a tight voice.

"Is He like…him?" Dumbledore looked weary as he stared at the young boy before him and sighed sadly.

"I am afraid that he is much, much worse here…" Dumbledore said softly. Harry looked at the man and then closed his eyes and then opened them and his mask was back in place.

"Alright then, I'll do it, I don't care what I have to learn or need to do, I will stop him…she would have wanted me to protect others from that." He said softly and turned strolling away.

Harry walked into his room and fell to his bed and glared down at the bedspread and punched the bed and then growled angrily.

"What the hell? Why am I here? I was supposed to be with Hermione, I was supposed to finally be able to relax." Harry yelled at his walls. "I am sick of being some sort of cruel cosmic joke, my life has been hell, and it just keeps piling up." Harry said and then he relaxed into his bed until he drifted into a restless slumber.

Harry's Dreams were worse than ever pictures of Her, and she would keep asking him why he had not come to protect her. She would ask why he was still not with her. Harry had no good answers and his mind just continued to race as he tried desperately to justify his position. He desperately wanted to be with her but there was another one here. She would snarl and attack him saying he didn't love her enough and Harry would suddenly snap awake sitting up in bed drenched in sweat.

Harry awoke from such a nightmare at about two in the morning. The boy got out of bed intent on getting a glass of water. As he walked the halls he was drawn.

He studied the large chest lying at the foot of the empty bed. He slowly walked over to it and slid his fingers along the leather. A memory flashed into his mind. A young boy was dragging it towards a train.

Harry blinked and looked at the chest. "That wasn't my memory..." he said slowly and then opened the chest. As he began to examine the contents he was surprised and memories continued to flash across his mind. When he finally stood to return to his room his head was pounding and he was dead tired.

When Harry awoke his head felt like someone had ran around inside it with a cinder block playing catch by bouncing it off the wall. Harry groaned and sat up his eyes glancing down and snapping open in shock and then the previous night came back to him in a rush.

Harry blinked and rubbed his eyes gently and stood walking out of the room, actually more like staggering from the room. When he entered the Kitchen and collapsed in a chair the man with the mangled face handed him a vial and nodded calmly.

Harry popped the top and sniffed it slowly and looked at the man. The man's face laughed and then nodded.

"The name is Alastor, Alastor Moody." He smiled and gestured to the vial. "It is a pain relieving potion it won't hurt you." Harry looked at the man and decided to trust the man before downing the contents of the vial. His head cleared and he nodded to the man.

"Thanks Alastor." He said simply and noticed everyone was looking at the two of them oddly.

Harry raised an eyebrow and shrugged turning back to where Alastor sat and away from where Ron was talking to Hermione sitting very close to her. The Aging man noted the boy's movement and shook his head.

"That boy there, the red head, I don't like him...He seems so...Angry." Harry commented with a light growl. Moody nodded.

"Well, his name is Ron Weasley. He was raised with a whole bunch of older brothers, and when he finally got a chance to get his own spotlight, He becomes friends with Harry Potter, he's a celebrity in this dimension." Moody added and then nodded to Hermione.

"That girl was the first thing he got that Harry didn't take from him, then Harry died and you showed up, looking just like him and suddenly It seems as if you want the one thing he has." Moody nodded and Harry shrugged sadly.

"I am not after her." He added as an after-thought and Moody merely nodded as the boy stood to leave and go somewhere else. At his departure Moody merely looked down at the daily prophet he was reading and then muttered as if to himself.

"Not yet anyways." He took a sip of his coffee as he read.