I ordered a new name plate to put on my writing desk. It doesn't have my name, title or anything like that on it. All it says is: Not J. K. Rowling.
A week has passed without any major incidents, with everyone except Madam Pomfrey being refused access to the infirmary. But, in the hindsight, that seemed to be the calm before the storm.
Albus looked sharply from his work when a globe on his desk started glowing a dangerous shade of red. He charmed it to notify him instantly when there would a commotion in the infirmary. He wasted no time to run to his fireplace, and after a quick burst of green flame he was stepping into the infirmary.
"Albus!" the distraught school nurse exclaimed upon seeing him. He was somewhat surprised to see her in that state, as even when she was treating the most horrifying injuries she remained calm.
"What happened, Poppy?" he demanded.
"I've been cleaning the storage room," she begun, calming somewhat when she fell in the familiar role of debriefing her superior, "when Mr. Potter for the first time left his place beside his bed, and went for the door. I immediately stopped him, and tried to explain things, but he just kept trying to step around me. Finally he frowned, since I always refused to let him through, but then his face cleared to that emotionless expression, and after tiling his head slightly, he... he..." she stopped, unable to say any more.
"What, Poppy? What happened?" Albus asked again, a little more forcefully.
She didn't respond, simply turned her head to look at something. He followed her gaze, and only now did he notice a broken window, with wind blowing softly through it, making curtains to dance with every new gust.
He rushed to it, already thinking of implications, especially given the state that Poppy was in. But when he leaned outside of the window, he frowned as there was no body lying somewhere on the ground. He frowned, because he had no idea how the boy could have survived the fall, but that thought quickly vanished, as there was more pressing matter than that.
"We have to search the castle," he ordered while turning back to Poppy, even as the nurse and paintings in the infirmary were already on the move.
The castle was searched thoroughly, without a single inhabitant of the castle that wasn't involved in the search knowing that there was something wrong. But it hadn't been successful, as there was no sign of Harry Potter anywhere in the castle. In fact, it was Hagrid ,who was coming back to his hut after searching the Forbidden Forest, who called everyone to follow him, since he didn't know how to describe what he saw.
It was once again Albus, Poppy, Minerva and Severus, people clued fully on the state Harry found himself in, with Hagrid leading them on, that were the witnesses of the most extraordinary spectacle.
Harry Potter was fighting the Whooping Willow. Though, one could hardly call if a fight, given the sight that accompanied it. The young man seemed to dance between branches so powerful that one would be more than enough to end his life. Yet he kept dodging each and every single one of them, doing jumps, rolls, twirls and other figures that the most skilled of acrobats would be envious off.
At one point he somehow became aware of their presence, and everyone gave the same kind of sharp intake of air when he stopped mid motion so abruptly, as to say that it was only a picture of him. What spoiled the scene was a branch still flying towards him, with all the intent to squash him like a bug.
Harry closed his eyes, the branch slowed to a stop, and when it was about to retract, he held on to it, being lifted to the crown of the tree, and casually settling himself between the branches.
Everyone gapped at that, and Hagrid, with his ever present tact, was the one to break the silence.
"What the hell was that?" he asked, looking between all the people present.
Everyone else were shaking their head, or muttering something to themself, trying to think of anything that would make what they just saw possible. It was Severus who spoke first.
"He's learning," making everyone look at him for more detailed explanation, "Without any real memory of what the world is, you could say that he's just like a little baby. You know how kids are, with them touching everything or putting that in their mouth. That's how they learn what is what, and what that particular thing feels, smells or tastes like. But he couldn't learn everything from the beginning, since he already knew those things. At least his body, on the physical level, had contact with them already, and only his mind had to catch up to that. What I think he was doing for the last week, simply standing near his bed, was to connect all the dots of what is what in the real world. I mean, I don't think that he suddenly knows all the names people use to call those things, but at least he is aware of the properties of the things that surround him. That's why he was able to escape from the infirmary, since he became aware that windows are only small barier between two pockets of air, and not, for instance, another stretch of wall with pretty paintings on it,"
"And that?" Minerva asked, pointing to the now calm Whooping Willow, but clearly referring to what they had seen just moments before.
"When you know what is around you, all you need to be free is to know how you should move in it," Severus said first thing that came ot his head, "Earlier, he knew his bed and spot next to it, and you could say that there was no world outside of it, as far as he was concerned. But now that he knows that the limitations of his world aren't as narrow as he had previously thought, he is trying to understand how should he move in it all. What are his own limitations," he said with a frown, but then scowled, "He's learning things rapidly, like with the Whooping Willow. It snaps at anyone who comes close to it, and he somehow understood that, that's why he stopped moving. At all. The tree probably thought that there was simply no one there, that's why it haven't finished it's strike, as it would be waste of energy to swing at air,"
"Well, that's good news then, that he's recovering quickly," Albus said a little more cheerfully, but it was short lived as Potions Master started extending his theory even further.
"No, it isn't," Severus said with even fiercer scowl, "While yes, he is improving his understanding of the world and physical condition, one thing is still left aside," at everyone's curious gaze, he shook his head that they didn't see it, "His mind. That he can move freely now doesn't mean he suddenly got his mindset back. And it doesn't mean that he's forming it beyond the level of instinct. Lets take for instance a young foal born in the wilderness. It gets as fast as it can to it's own feet not because it is taught to, or because it is expected to do so. It gets up because it feels that when it wont get going, it will be left to die. It isn't a reaction to a mental stimulation, but necessity born from simple survival instinct. And have any of you watched Potter closely? Noticed something about his eyes?"
That made everyone else frown. "What about his eyes?" Poppy was the one to ask, clearly displeased with herself that she might have missed something.
"He doesn't blink," Severus announced, making everyone do just that in surprise, "Have you ever seen a predator stalking it's prey? Eyes focused on the prize, not blinking even once, as to not loose the slight chance to attack?" he asked, making everyone else's eyes to widen at the implications.
"That's why it isn't so good at all, that he's improving so rapidly. Because tell me, Albus," he started, turning to the man in question. "What will you do when a human-shaped predator, without even the most basic moral inhibitions of a regular person, for instance that you shouldn't eliminate anything in your path simply because it's inconvenient, start stalking the halls of your school? And with the additional knowledge that he's more capable than anyone else in sight, what he did to young Malfoy will be the least he could do to anyone that bothers him next," Severus finished, making everyone else turn to the man lying casually between the branches of the plan that was probably the most brutal one on the entire grounds, and see him in entirely different perspective.
Albus was no longer so certain that it was such a good idea to keep Harry Potter in the castle. He haven't hurt Poppy, that much was true, but with all the inter-house hostility that he was now so painfully aware of, he couldn't predict what would happen in the future.
While teachers were discussing things on the grounds, a bushy-haired girl was sitting on her own on a certain bed in the fifth year boy's dormitory of the Gryffindor tower.
Hermione found herself constantly going there, as even as it was only one week into the school year, she painfully realised just who was her one and only friend. Without Harry there to settle or mellow things a little, rows between her and Ron became harsher every single time they saw each other, forming a snowball effect, and making them fight simply because...
That's why she made a habit of going to Harry's bed, drawing curtains tightly around it, and securing herself from the rest of the worl. She knew that it was strange, hiding behind him even as he wasn't there, but she understood that thing too. That always, from the moment she was attacked by a troll, through their expedition for the Philosopher's Stone... Pretty much every single time they found themselves in some kind of trouble, he was there beside her, protecting her in one way or another at every single step. And, oh how she needed that protection. That feeling of security that he gave her simply by being there.
She knew it was stupid, but after couple of times she got there, she became playing with his things. Her mood even shut off her need to read books, as she somehow knew that they weren't his favourite things to have. But his wand, which she mindlessly twirled in her fingers, simply because she knew he loved magic. Or his Quidditch jersey, which she put on to remind herself of his smell, even as she firmly made herself to think that it was only because of his love of the game.
And Hedwig. Oh how well she now understood how he loved that smart bird. She would frequently find herself in the owl's company, as even the companion was held away from Harry, and the sadness over that fact was clear when she looked into Hedwig's eyes. Now it didn't seem strange at all, all those times when he told her about the conversations he held with his owl. Hermione smiled whenever she heard that soft tapping on the window, and they would simply sit together, her scratching the bird, and the owl rubbing her head against her cheek. Both quietly consoling the other that it was all going to be okay. Somehow...
But when Hedwig was away and she once again found herself all alone, she continued searching through Harry's trunk. She was past they point of thinking if it was proper to search, if he would be mad at her when he came back. She had settled on the thought that if he couldn't understand just how she felt in that moment, if he couldn't forgive her this, that she had no friends at all.
But that day, during her search for something else that might have reminded her of another happy memory, she stumbled upon a notebook. It wasn't anything from the magical world. It was an ordinary notebook, and with her curious nature, she couldn't help but open it, only for her eyes to widen when she realised that it was Harry's diary. But seeing that messy handwriting again, she just couldn't stop herself from reading.
I don't know what I'm bloody doing, starting to write this, but it sometimes feels just too much to think. I guess now I know what Dumbledore spoke of when he said that Pensieve is such a useful thing. But I don't have a Pensieve, and I simply can't stand it any more.
What the hell is wrong with people? Why do they constantly want something from me? All those stories about the Boy-Who-Lived, those mighty deeds that he accomplished. If that's me, then why are they constantly shredding my reputation to bits whenever I do something, anything, that they don't like? If they don't like it, why don't they do a bloody thing themselves, instead criticising me that I'm not the person they wish for me to be.
And I bloody are not that person. I'm Harry, not the mighty hero everyone want to see. Most of the times I don't know what I'm doing myself, say nothing about knowing precisely what to do with the world. I don't have any super powers that might help me get all of this over with. In fact, I probably can do even less than most of people...
Sometimes I wonder if this isn't the first step to be turning Dark, especially now that I've started this stupid diary like a certain Dark Lord had at some point in time. Yeah, Tom, I'm talking about you you bloody bastard. Have you too had that need to curse everyone in sight simply because they wouldn't stop bothering you? I guess you had, and now you're making up for it with your servants.
But how hard can it be, to go on with your life without sticking your foot in someone's face? How hard can it be for other people to go fuck themselves and leave me ALONE?
"Oh, Harry," Hermione muttered softly, closing the book sharply, as she couldn't read anymore, with hot tears streaming down her cheeks. She hugged the small book tightly to her chest, and rocked softly back and forth, thinking just how little she knew about her one and only friend.
AN. A lot shorted than I would like it to be, but seriously I don't have that much ideas for this. But since there is some people with this story in allerts, i guess you deserve a follow up from time to time. I'm sorry it's not that often, but with Finding Why's still going on...
Severus is explaining things because he's the person who combines the mundane and magical world mindset in the group. Wizards probably would think what spells they could cast on Harry to make him back to normal, and Snape sees that what is happening is natural, even if distrubing.
As much as I don't like making Hermione suffer, I had to make someone find the diary, since as Harry can't exactly speak his mind, he needs to have other means of voicing his thoughts.