Hello, everyone. Yes, it has been a LOOOONG time since I posted anything. I went forever without having a muse.

Well guess what? It's baaa-aaack. I've been working on other chapters as well, but this is the first one I've completed thus far.

I apologize for this chapter being mainly filler; the next one will be MUCH more interesting. I hope you stick with me. Hehe. All the same, please enjoy.

Title: Fireheart

Rating: M (for future violence, language, and adult situations)

Pairings: Eventual Draco/Harry (yes, SLASH), eventual Ron/Hermione; others pending

Disclaimer: There is no way in any shape or form that I own Harry Potter. The credit should be given to one J.K. Rowling. The only thing I own is the plot.

- - -

Fireheart

Chapter 4: Enlightenment

- - -

Right over his sternum, in the middle of his chest, was his mark. It was only a few inches length wise, but it was the clarity of it that stunned him. The yellows, oranges, reds, and dashes of blue were so clear that the image looked real, despite the fact that it wasn't moving. Harry let his shirt fall.

"Well, that leaves no doubt," Hermione said quietly. "You're the Fireheart."

- - -

"I just can't believe this," Harry mumbled as they left the library, his tone clearly showing his skepticism of the whole ordeal. After seeing his mark, Harry hurried over to Madam Pince's desk to check out the book. He would definitely need it to understand his element better.

"Neither can I," Ron said. He cast a sympathetic look at Harry. "This is the last thing you need, mate. It's just another burden on your shoulders."

"Tell me about it," the raven-haired boy grumbled as he shifted the heavy book's weight underneath his arm. "And having this new power isn't the worst of it."

"You're joking," Ron said. "What could be worse?"

Harry paused at this. Just thinking about what he was going to say made him feel angry. He took a deep, steadying breath.

"Well, Dumbledore said that I need training in physical combat to control this power and to be able to use it properly," he began. "He told me that there is only one person who would be able to teach me, and it's Snape."

"But --!"

"Doesn't he remember --?"

Neither Ron nor Hermione were able to finish their sentences. They merely shook their heads, looking dumbstruck.

"I know," Harry replied, obviously understanding what they were both thinking. "I mentioned the horrific attempts at Occlumency last year, but Dumbledore still insisted that I go through with these lessons since Snape is the only one who can do them. I so look forward to them." He glared darkly at the floor before him, his gaze murderous.

"But that's crazy!" Hermione exclaimed, her eyes widening. "What if something similar happens this time? Then you will be left with no training and no idea on how to use the power! That could be dangerous if you try to use it when, you know..." She trailed off, obviously not wanting to mention Voldemort or the impending battle.

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but he realized that Hermione was not watching where she was going, her gaze being riveted on him. He reached out quickly and gripped her arm to steer her away from a suit of armor. She cried out in pain all of a sudden, which confused the raven-haired boy, since she had sidestepped the obstacle. He looked down, thinking that she may have stubbed her toe, but her foot was nowhere near the armor. He was just about to question her about the cry when she wrenched her arm from his grasp. His unasked question was then answered for him.

Right where he had gripped her arm, Harry saw an angry red mark in the exact shape of his hand. The skin was already blistering. The sight of the burn, the sound of his friend's whimpers of pain, and the knowledge that he was the cause sickened Harry. He stood rooted to the spot, his mind swimming and his stomach churning, unable to say anything.

"C'mon," Ron said in a low voice, breaking the tense silence. He cast Harry a questioning look before gingerly grabbing Hermione by her other arm. "Let's go to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey can heal this in a heartbeat." He started pulling her down the corridor, Harry following in their wake. He was still in disbelief, unable to comprehend that he had hurt her so.

I'm a monster, Harry thought miserably. This power isn't a blessing that will help others; it is a curse that will only destroy.

His mood continued to darken as they made their way to the hospital wing. By the time they reached the doors, Harry had just about convinced himself that he would never use his power, even if he were face-to-face with Voldemort and without a wand. He did not care about his survival, not if his use of the power could badly hurt, or worse, kill, those around him, those he cared for. If his touch alone could do this to a person, he was afraid to see what the power would do at its fullest extent. He would just have to refuse Snape's lessons, though he knew going against Dumbledore's wishes is not a smart idea.

The sound of a door creaking open startled Harry out of his musings.

"Back already?" Madam Pomfrey inquired. There was then a gasp when she caught sight of Hermione. "Oh my. Come on in, dear. I can heal that right up." Harry ignored the woman's questioning gaze as he followed the others into the wing.

Hermione sat down on one of the beds, cradling her arm, small whimpers still escaping through her clenched teeth. Madam Pomfrey bustled off to get what she needed. Harry looked down at his hands, clenching them into fists as his stomach continued to churn.

"It wasn't your fault, mate."

Harry's head jerked up. His redheaded friend looked sincere, but he still could not help feeling guilty. His shoulders slumped.

"Come on, Harry, buck up," Ron continued, patting his shoulder. "It's not like you knew that would happen when you touch someone. Madame Pomfrey will fix Hermione right up. It will be as if it never happened. There's nothing to worry about."

"I guess you're right," Harry mumbled. His gaze then turned toward his bushy-haired friend. "I really am sorry, Hermione. I would never intentionally hurt you. I had no idea. I promise it won't happen again. I will be really careful."

"It's okay, Harry," she replied. "It's nothing that can't be fixed. Now if you had hacked off my leg or something…"

The three friends burst out laughing, and Harry felt better for it. However, it was at that point that the mediwitch returned with a few potions and salves.

"I have just informed the headmaster," she said, leveling Harry with a piercing gaze. "He would like to see you immediately."

Harry's stomach fell to his toes. Was he in trouble? Was there any reason why he should be? This was not done intentionally, and he was sure both Madam Pomfrey and Dumbledore knew that. So why --?

"I'll be back in a bit," Harry said to Ron and Hermione before turning to leave the hospital wing.

As he walked, a haze crept into Harry's mind. It obscured his thoughts from him, detaching every one as it formed in his brain. He was not able to formulate an argument properly, one that could save him from these lessons. Therefore, when he arrived at Dumbledore's office, Harry was a muddled mess. He made his way up the spiral stairs and inside without pausing to knock.

The headmaster was seated behind his cluttered desk, as always. He had an odd expression on his face, one that was a cross between serene and disturbed.

"Hello again, Harry," Dumbledore said in way of greeting. He motioned for Harry to sit down. The Gryffindor did so.

"Hello, sir," Harry answered, making sure to keep his voice polite. He sat up in his chair and gave the headmaster his undivided attention.

"I am troubled, Harry," Dumbledore said quietly. He stood up and paced the area behind his desk. "Madam Pomfrey has just informed me of what happened to Miss Granger. I feel that for the sake of your friends' wellbeing, and yours, that these lessons should begin right away."

Harry did not even have time to open his mouth and utter a syllable before the headmaster threw Floo powder into his fireplace.

"Professor Snape, if you would please join us," Dumbledore said into the green flames.

Harry's heart fell into his stomach. Right now, he wished he could bundle his innards together in order to keep them from jumping around without warning.

The Potions professor ducked out of the fireplace a few seconds later, pausing briefly to brush soot from his robes.

"Yes, headmaster?" he drawled. "This won't take long will it? I have an extremely unstable potion that needs to be watched very carefully brewing in my classroom."

"This won't take but a moment, Severus," Dumbledore said with a slight smile. He then motioned for the surly man to sit in the chair next to Harry's, one that had not been there a moment before. The headmaster cleared his throat before beginning to speak.

"We are in need of your training services sooner than expected, Severus," Dumbledore stated. "There has just been an occurrence involving young Mr. Potter here and his newfound power. Apparently, his touch alone was enough to send Miss Granger to the hospital wing with second-degree burns. If he is to gain any control over this power, his training should begin immediately."

"I see," Snape said stiffly, casting a blank gaze at Harry. "You always seem to find trouble for yourself, Potter. I suppose I have no choice but to help you now, before you hurt anyone else or burn down half the school." He ignored the glare from the Gryffindor, all the while looking like he would rather be off eating flobberworms. The professor hurriedly got to his feet and strode over to the fireplace. "Hurry up, Potter. I have to get back to --"

BOOM!

A very loud explosion shook the very foundation of the school. Distant shouts of surprise and fear could be heard. Snape growled under his breath and brought his hand up to cover his eyes, complaining about several wasted hours of work. Harry got to his feet without a word and stepped into the fireplace after his irate professor.

The Gryffindor thought his eyes were deceiving him when they finally focused after the transition. Everything in the room was covered in a glowing purple goop. The shattered remains of a cauldron were barely visible in the back corner of the classroom near the window.

A feral growl issued from the Potions professor as he took in the extent of the damage. Then he turned to face Harry.

"I think I have a great first lesson for you, Potter," he said. "It just so happens that this particular potion reacts well with heat. Fire will reduce it to a gas that evaporates in a matter of seconds. So not only will you be learning how to use your power, but my classroom will be cleaned in the process." A smirk tugged at the corners of the man's mouth. Harry scowled in response.

"We might as well start; the sooner we begin, the sooner we can part ways, and I'm sure I'm not the only one looking forward to that," Snape went on. "I would like to say one thing, however. I know nothing of this new power of yours. I do not know where the well of extra magic it uses stationed itself in your body. It may be in your mind, or it may be in your chest. It is your job to find it. The process will be the exact opposite of Legilimency. Instead of spreading your conscience outward, you will be looking inside yourself. Hopefully you can focus better this time around." The professor leveled a glare at his pupil. He then took out his wand and waved it without a word; Harry felt a ward surround him. At least Snape was taking safety precautions.

"Now close your eyes and cup your hands in front of you." Harry did so. "Empty your mind of all conscious thought. Gain a sense of self. Search your body for anything new. Start in your head and then move downwards. If you come across an obstacle, breach it gently. You have to remain in control."

Harry put all emotions aside. He erased any thought from his head and expanded his consciousness. It was a very odd experience to become suddenly aware of every little thing in his physical being. Harry sent his consciousness through his head first, but came across nothing. He then turned his focus downward and traveled through his neck and throat, all the while being careful and taking his time.

He knew the exact moment that he hit the barrier.

A dull red light flashed in his mind's eye when he reached his chest. His consciousness would move no further; it was like pressing up against a brick wall. He honed his mind into a sharp drill and continued probing until the barrier started giving way. It only took a few tries before the obstacle gave way and the power washed through him like a rip tide.

Harry's eyes flew open. He choked down a few lungfuls of air, his chest heaving. He realized sweat was pouring down his forehead and that his body felt ablaze. The raw power left him stunned. "I think I found it," he gasped.

"Good," Snape muttered. "Now cup your hands in front of you once more and try it again. This time, when you breach the barrier, create a channel for the power. That way it will remain in your control. Guide the channel toward your hands, and try to create a small ball of fire." Harry nodded and closed his eyes.

The second time was a bit easier. After crumbling the barrier, he envisioned a trench in front of the opening. He felt the rush of the power blaze a trail of heat through his chest and down his arms, ending at his hands. His palms and fingers throbbed dully with his heartbeat. In the back of his mind, he could hear the roar of flames.

"Open your eyes Potter."

Harry did so, very slowly. It took a second for them to focus, but when they did, he looked down. He felt triumph well up inside him when he saw the orb of fire floating above his outstretched palms. Since safety wards have been placed, Harry decided to experiment a little. With his eyes still open, the Gryffindor reached inside his chest toward the barrier. He probed at it a little more, resulting in a larger flow of magic. The orb in his hands grew larger and brighter. He then closed the barrier a little, creating a smaller channel and a smaller orb. The barrier was then sealed completely, and the ball of fire faded away. Harry smiled, thinking that using this power might not be too difficult after all; it is almost like working a faucet.

"Nice work." Snape actually showed a little approval at his pupil's accomplishment. "It looks as if you now understand the absolute basics. Now, instead of cupping your hands, hold one arm out in front of you, palm facing out. Create the channel once more, and have it end in that hand only. You will be moving around this time, so keep a tighter control. Keep your eyes open at all times and move your hand over any surface with potion stuck to it. Be careful, and don't make the flow of power too strong."

Harry nodded and began the process again.

- - -

He trudged back to the common room over an hour later, both his mind and his physical being drained of energy. Using his power continuously over that hour spent him greatly. Snape told him if he uses it more often, his stamina would build.

"So how did it go?" Hermione asked as soon as he had set foot into the common room.

"It actually wasn't too bad," Harry replied. He sighed inwardly; even his voice sounded tired. "It's going easier than I thought it would so far." The raven-haired boy smiled crookedly as he cupped his hands in front of him and almost effortlessly created a flame. It was gone before anyone else noticed. All the same, it got Hermione to squeal in pleasant surprise, and Ron chuckled.

"That's wicked, Harry," he said. "You're learning quickly."

Harry nodded in agreement. "I just have to get used to using it for long periods of time," he muttered with a yawn. "I think I'll have to skip dinner; snoring into my potatoes is not on my to-do list tonight."

"We understand, Harry," Hermione replied. "This is all new to you; it's bound to be tiring. We'll leave you a plate of food next to your bed with a warming charm on it in case you wake up hungry later tonight. Just make sure you work on some of your homework tomorrow." She tweaked his ear gently, and then gave him a hug. "It's good to know I can still do this. It's just your hands that are dangerous, in more ways than one." She pulled away, nothing but mirth shining in her brown eyes. Harry chuckled lightly.

"You make a good point," Harry muttered. "But you two go enjoy dinner. I will see you in the morning." His friends said their goodbyes as they made their way toward the portrait hole, and Harry stumbled up the stairs to the boys' dormitory and into his bed.

He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

- - -

A bright light caused Harry to rouse. He sat up in bed, feeling somewhat confused. Isn't it still too early for full daylight? However, he soon realized that something about the light was odd; it had a flickering quality.

An acrid scent met his nose a few seconds later. It smelled as if something were… burning.

Panic flooded him. What's on fire? Is anyone hurt? He wrenched apart his bed hangings and prepared to launch himself off the mattress.

Harry managed to catch himself just in time. A wall of flames surrounded the bed; they were just beginning to lick at the bottom of his hangings. His throat convulsed as a scream lodged itself somewhere around his Adam's apple. Where was his wand? Was there any other way he could put it out without it? Why hadn't he tried practicing wandless magic? He gripped the sheets in terror.

A wave of heat rushed over his arms and the light grew brighter. Where his hands were clenched, the sheets caught fire. Harry jumped back against the headboard with a strangled yelp. Was he the cause of all this?

The fire danced enticingly in front of him, steadily moving closer. He was trapped. Would anyone hear him yell? Harry tried, but his voice box refused to cooperate.

The fire reached his knees. There was nowhere else for him to move. A searing pain shot up his legs as his skin encountered the blazing heat. He thrashed madly, hoping for some way to put it out, to end the pain, but it was an empty hope. The scent of charred human flesh met Harry's nose, and his stomach shuddered in disgust.

I knew nothing good would come out of having this power.

Harry clenched his jaw and leaned back against the headboard of what would soon be his fiery grave.

- - -

The Gryffindor's eyes flew open. He shot upright, his heart thudding painfully against his ribcage. The adrenaline rush from the nightmare left his head reeling. He lay back down slowly, willing his head to stay clear.

Where did that dream come from? It was a lot clearer and more realistic than the recurring nightmare he had over the summer. Was it just the product of his overactive imagination? He had thought he was just beginning to come to terms with his new power. Did he still have unconscious fears about it?

In order to feel better about it, Harry was going to have to ask some questions.

Still too shocked to fall asleep, he rolled over onto his side and stared out the window until the sun began to rise.

- - -

Thank you so much for reading.

To be continued...