Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter in any way, just this story.
A/N: Again, I'm a little late and I apologize. I never post unless I already have the next chapter ready in case the unforeseen happens, and the next chapter was a doozy. But I am back on track now, and hope you all enjoy. Please feel free to leave a review and let me know what you think.
Harry awoke slowly, one arm reaching up to rub his half closed eyes as he slowly stretched and began to sit up in bed. A dull, throbbing pain began as soon as he started sitting up, and he quickly slumped back onto the pillow, one hand going to his pounding forehead.
"Ughh," he moaned softly, "did anyone get the number of that bus?"
He heard a small, feminine giggle nearby, and turned his head to see Ginny perched at the foot of his bed.
"G-Ginny," he stammered, struggling to pull his sheets higher to cover his bare chest, "what are you doing in here?" He tried to sit up once more but again, he fell back clutching his forehead and growling through clenched teeth.
"Shh, lie back," Ginny said gently, lifting a small hand to his chest and gently pressing him back into the bed. "We've been taking turns sitting with you since last night, waiting for you to wake up."
"What happened," Harry groaned, "and why do I feel like I was just run over by the Hogwarts Express?" Ginny giggled softly as she pushed aside his hand and stroked his sweaty forehead with a cold cloth.
"We aren't exactly sure," she admitted, "but it looks like you had a nightmare. Not any kind of nightmare I've ever experienced though," she added, almost whispering. As she spoke his mind flashed back through a mix of horrifying scenes as he broke through the throbbing pulse in his head and brought the memories boiling to the surface. Despite his disgust, he tried to push the information to the back of his mind and focus on the girl sitting in front of him. Finally he smiled faintly.
"Yeah, you've had plenty of experience with them yourself, haven't you? After everything that happened in the Chamber of Secrets…" She nodded hesitantly and matched his small smile with one of her own. "I'm sorry about that."
Ginny shook her head vehemently, "Oh no you don't Harry Potter! It took me a long time to admit to myself that the whole thing wasn't my fault. But I've learned to accept that the blame lies with Tom, and no one else. So wise up you great noble prat."
"Yes ma'am," Harry chuckled, "but that's not exactly what I meant. I just meant that I was sorry that I never even asked you about it. I never checked to see if you were alright or anything. I guess I just didn't know what to say; you were so young and I didn't know you very well, so…" He trailed off and shrugged, sounding ashamed of his younger self's actions. "I'm sorry. I guess that sometimes I get so wrapped up in my own nightmares that I forget that others might have them too."
Ginny blushed and tucked a loose strand of flaming hair behind her ear as she dunked the washcloth in the nearby bucket of water to wet it again before reapplying it to Harry's forehead.
"It's alright Harry. I'll admit that I probably wouldn't even have been able to talk to you back then even if you had offered." She blushed even more deeply. "I still had too big of a crush on you. But it turned out ok; the whole family was really supportive of me right after everything happened, if a little smothering sometimes. And Bill helped a lot. That's a big part of the reason that Mum and Dad chose to go to Egypt when they won all those galleons. He's always been the one who looked out for me the most. Guess it's a side effect of being the oldest; you feel like the younger kids are partly your responsibility. Anyway, he talked with me a lot that summer, and afterwards I slowly started healing." She laid the cloth down on his head and stood from the chair she had been occupying.
"But still…thanks. I really should go get Dumbledore now. He wanted whoever was with you to fetch him as soon as you woke up. Mum'll already have my head for not telling them you're up sooner."
Harry laughed softly, leery of setting off his headache again, "I won't tell if you won't."
She smiled and walked towards the door, pausing just before exiting the room and turning back slightly to look at his prone form.
"I'm glad that you're ok Harry. Try not to scare us like that again, yeah?"
And with that she was gone. Harry shook his still aching head ruefully. No promises there. I don't know what the hell is even happening to me, much less how to stop it. A long, uneventful minute passed, until he finally heard a set of soft slow footsteps approaching the open doorway. Through it stepped Albus Dumbledore, who was if Harry was not mistaken wearing the same robe he had been yesterday.
"So my boy, how are you feeling?" Dumbledore asked tiredly as he waved his wand, conjuring a large comfortable chair and easing himself into it.
"Alright I guess," Harry answered as he slowly sat up in bed to face Dumbledore.
"Well you certainly are keeping me on my toes. It hasn't even been a full day since I was last here. The Weasleys have informed me that you might have experienced a vision related to Voldemort?" Harry nodded gravely. "Tell me about it." And so he did; slowly, painstakingly he repeated everything he had seen to the silent headmaster.
"I see," Dumbledore said quietly after Harry had finished. "Tell me, did you view the scene from Voldemort's perspective? Or perhaps through Nagini as you did before?"
"No sir," Harry replied, "I wasn't inside his head. It was more like I was outside it. Like I was a spectator watching it all from the sidelines." Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully as he stroked his long beard with one hand.
"Indeed…almost like you were viewing a memory in a Pensieve…from what you have told me Harry, I do not believe that what you saw was truly a vision. I believe that it was a memory."
"But why sir," Harry asked, bewildered, "why would he show me a memory? All of the other visions I've had have been flashes from his head, from the present; that and the vision of Sirius. But this memory isn't going to convince me to do something reckless, so what's the point?"
"He might not have had one, his intent might have been as simple as causing you emotional pain. But in this instance, if what the Weasleys tell me is true, then I believe that he may have made a grave error."
"What do you mean sir, what did they tell you?"
Dumbledore looked as serious as Harry had ever seen him, and it was starting to make Harry a bit nervous.
"It has to do with what happened to you last night my boy. If you would be so kind, could please move your hair away from your scar?"
"My scar?" Harry asked, puzzled as he did as the headmaster asked, shifting his hair to the side with one hand. Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, still stroking his massive beard.
"Extraordinary," he whispered to himself, "but could it mean…"
"What is it sir?" Harry said, starting to feel alarmed, "Is something wrong with my scar?"
"You could say that," Dumbledore said vaguely before waving his wand and conjuring a small hand mirror which he then handed to Harry. He didn't have to look long before he saw it. The scar that had marked him since his parent's death; that had brought him fame and ridicule in equal measure from the wizarding world, was gone. It was not merely faded, it was gone, with only a faint outline of pink new skin to mark the outline where it had been.
Harry gaped in astonishment. He could not even remember a time when he did not have his scar. His whole life it had marked him as different, first in his muggle school where Dudley and his gang had teased him for being a freakish "scarhead", and then even more so when he entered the wizarding world. From his first step into the Leaky Cauldron with Hagrid, people who he had never seen before in his life were approaching him, thanking him, wanting to meet him. And as much as he had hated all of the attention it gave him, he had always thought of it as a part of him, and now it was gone.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized that the pain that he had felt in his head since he awoke had not emanated from his scar as it normally did. For the past year since Voldemort's return the pain from his scar had been his almost constant companion; sometimes no more than a dull ache and sometimes hurting so badly that he felt certain that it would tear open from the pain. But the pain felt different this time. And as much as the missing scar was causing his head to spin, he felt lighter somehow, like a great weight that he had lived with all of his life had suddenly been lifted from his forehead.
"What…how?" Harry stammered, unsure of where to even begin.
"I do not know," Dumbldore admitted honestly.
"Speculate," Harry said with a hard edge to his voice. He still remembered their conversation from the end of last year, and as noble as Dumbledore's intentions might be, this was hardly the time for him to keep Harry out of the loop. The old headmaster was silent for several long, tense moments, during which Harry hardly dared to breathe. Finally he seemed to answer some sort of internal question and spoke.
"I have told you before that I believe that Voldemort is linked to you through your scar; that is how you acquired access to his thoughts and how he shared some of his power with you long ago." Harry nodded impatiently. He knew all of this already. "Well with the removal of your scar coinciding with the fact that Voldemort was in a way attacking your mind, I can come to only one conclusion. Your connection, your bond, with Lord Vodemort has been destroyed."
Harry sat in a stunned silence, feeling the edges of a nervous breakdown begin to creep into his head as he attempted to process all of the information being forced on him.
"From what you have said it seems obvious to me," Dumbledore continued on in the silence, "that Voldemort attacked you with a horrible memory, most likely in an attempt to punish you for escaping him. And though I do not know how, it also appears that during this nightmare, you were able to somehow force Voldemort from your mind, and in doing so, burn away your connection to him."
"How?" was all poor Harry could manage, his mind still reeling.
"As I said, I do not know," Dumbledore said apologetically, "this is all complete conjecture. I examined you myself when I first arrived, and though I found rather substantial traces of magic around the area in question, it was nothing that I recognized. Whatever freed you from your scar is something that I have never before seen.
Well that's a little disconcerting, Harry said to himself, I've always thought of Dumbledore as this fountain of knowledge, but even he's at a loss.
"What does this mean sir? For me that is?" Dumbledore stared at Harry's wide eyes, lacing his fingers together and raising them up in front of his face thoughtfully.
"I am not sure. There is a theory that I have been working on for quite some time, and I am very close to proving it. And if I am right, then this theory may well explain what has happened to your scar. You have asked me to speculate and I have done so, but I cannot speak any further on this until I am certain." Harry looked mutinous and Dumbledore quickly held up a placating hand to forestall any outburst. "Please Harry, I am not trying to hide this from you…but this is neither the time nor the place to delve into this further. Give me some time to complete my investigation and you have my word that I will hold nothing back from you."
Harry wanted so much to be angry with the old man. Once again he was withholding information that Harry ached to know, and once again had perfectly logical explanations about why he couldn't share it. For days now Harry had been bombarded with one surprise after another. His scar had been a part of who he was for nearly his entire life and his eyes for even longer, and yet they were both taken from him in what seemed a single moment. And all of this happening just weeks after Sirius' death…it was almost too much, and he wasn't sure just how much more he could take. But despite all of it, he still could not bring himself to be angry with Dumbledore.
"Alright sir," he said with a great sigh, "but I'll hold you to that promise." Dumbledore nodded seriously.
"Of course my boy, I would expect nothing less."
"How long do you expect this to take?"
"Not long I expect," Dumbledore said, removing an antique pocket watch from his robes and checking the time. "I was very close to finding the answers I sought when you disappeared, so now that I can return to the search it should not take me long to pick up where I left off."
"So will you come back then," Harry asked, "once you've tested your theory I mean? To tell me?" Dumbledore was shaking his head before Harry even finished speaking.
"No. I would prefer to have this conversation in the safety and security of Hogwarts."
"But why," Harry said, "no one at the Burrow is going to betray anything to Voldemort. How is it not safe here?"
"Please Harry, just trust me," Dumbledore said pleadingly. "I meant no slight on any of the Weasleys, but we can take no chances with this information. If I am right…it could mean everything." Harry was impatient and didn't like the sound of having to wait to find out what was happening to him; of course he liked the ominous tone of Dumbledore's voice even less. He nodded his acceptance.
"Yes sir. So when can we talk then?"
"You can come to my office on the first night of term if you wish, after the feast."
Harry nodded, "I'll be there."
"Very well then," Dumbledore said as he stood, stretching old, tired muscles. "I shall take my leave. I will need to resume my work immediately. Please Harry, enjoy the rest of your summer, and try not to worry too much. The future will come at its own pace, so there is no need to try and hasten it." Giving Harry a small salute while tucking into a short bow, Dumbledore turned to leave.
"Professor," Harry called out, stopping the headmaster in his tracks," I forgot to tell you, my eyes-"
"Have changed color?" Harry blinked in surprise then nodded. "Yes, I did not realize it until after I left yesterday. I have not been so exhausted since I was a much younger man. Thank you for telling me though Harry."
"Any idea what it means sir?"
"None," Dumbledore answered, shrugging, "I suppose it is simply a part of the great mystery that lies before us. I am sure that the answer will come…in time." Dumbledore turned to leave again, but stopped as once more Harry's voice called out to him, though much softer now, as if he were afraid of the answer to this question.
"Professor. The nightmares…are- are they really gone?" Dumbledore paused a moment before answering.
"Yes my boy…I believe that they are." And with that he turned, and was gone, closing the door behind him.
Harry laid his head back against the pillow, completely overwhelmed as he felt tears welling in his eyes. The events of the past day were finally catching up with him, and he closed his eyes, suddenly overwhelmed and exhausted. I'll just lay here for a few more minutes, Harry thought tiredly as he slowly drifted off to sleep.
