Chapter 1

the 29th of september (meant pain and more pain)

When Harry woke on the 29th of September, he felt like he'd been runover by a lorry.

His muscles ached and felt Uncle Vernon had sat on them - though the fact that there were no broken bones attested to the fact that they had not actually been sat on. He pried his eyes open and whimpered at the pounding in his temples.

Colors were floating in his vision and there were people there too. Eyes widened and the people began vanishing. Harry cracked his mouth open to question who they were but all that came out was a croak and he let out a feeble groan.

He hadn't felt this bad since his 16th birthday and all of this began happening; the headaches that felt like his head was being pried open with a blunt knife and hammer - the achy muscles that he could hardly move most days - the glitchy vision that flashed with colors like he was seeing now - every day had some sort of semblance of any one of these things and the severity of it was completely random.

He had gone to Grimmauld Place during the summer and had essentially locked himself in his room; there was a constant screaming in the house and nobody but him seemed to hear it. He'd asked about it once but all that came was an odd look and a question of if he was alright. It was always worse when Harry went into the kitchen so he'd just steered clear of the place every time he left his room.

At Hogwarts, it only got worse. Noise constantly assaulted his ears, whispers it sounded like, and the colors would get even worse with them being everywhere; most days it was crippling and Harry didn't have a clue on how to stop it.

Harry rolled his eyes to look around, trying to see around the colors before giving up. Vaguely, he had a thought about how he was going to meet Hermione and Ron in the library, but a pain in his head swept the thought away.

He made a feeble sound and blew out a harsh breathe, eyes fluttering - his limbs felt too heavy for him to rub his head to stave off the pain or swipe the blood that he could feel trickling down his head.

Hermione and Ron had been hovering over him the entire time they'd been at school, growing concerned over what had been happening to him. Especially with Professor Dumbledore going a complete 180 from ignoring him last year to calling him up nearly twice a week to discuss things about Voldemort. Not that Harry was actually ever told much of anything.

They'd begun to just construct a time line about everything they could find on Tom Riddle. Old newspapers that involved him or anything that had his branding on it. Hogwarts was perhaps the easiest bit with the archives and files, and Harry had brief flashes or dreams about Tom Riddle's time at Hogwarts.

It had been startling at first but they used it to their advantage, though they were always cautious when one appeared. Harry would describe the events and Hermione would know exactly what to research and Ron would rearrange everything because he was especially good at finding hidden details that him or Hermione skipped over.

The Headmaster was never informed of this due to Ron and Hermione's apprehension from how he'd acted their previous years at Hogwarts. How he always believed that he was in the right and sometimes never considered another option.

A garbled noise drew Harry's attention and he let his eyes flutter open to see a blurry mass of red in his face. Ron. Half-formed words managed to tumble from his mouth, raspy and croaky. Ron disappeared, leaving Harry wallowing in pain and heat that must have come while he was stuck in his thoughts.

Harry let his mind drift to his godfather and best friend, who were staying at the Black Manor in hiding. Books and scrolls resided there and they took advantage of it. They'd come across incantations, rituals, and wand movements they'd never seen before and would receive an answer as quickly as could be managed.

They were always willing to help even if things were slight tense between Harry and Sirius.

For nearly the entire summer he had been grieving and having nightmares about losing Sirius - about how it was all his fault - and then he got a tentative letter about how Sirius was still alive. Anger had immediately filled him and his letter was blotty and smeared with ink and jerky letters.

Then after about a week, he'd been corner by Remus and Sirius in his animagus form. Harry nearly screamed for help and that he was being kidnapped, only for Sirius to shift back and hug him tightly.

Remus and Sirius took turns explaining what had happened and explained what their plan had been and what happened. Sirius had made an imitation, some serious dark magic apparently, and that was who had fallen in the veil.

In the end, Harry said nothing and asked nothing. It didn't grate of his conscience whatsoever because it kept his godfather alive. Why would he be complaining about that? And besides, how dark could it actually be if used for a good purpose? But that might just be Harry's personal bias.

"-rry. Harr-"

Harry's eyes fluttered when something cold was placed on his forehead, over his eyes, and he whimpered and the sensation. A hand touched his forehead, brushing away his sweat plastered hair.

There were whispers and touches that definitely did not come from Ron, so Harry concluded with a fogged mind, that it must be Hermione.

Everything after that conclusion was a jumbled mess. The buzzing made it nearly impossible to hear anything but he watched moving figures tiredly. Madame Pomfrey was there, a half-sentence worming into his mind about 'Harry being far too sick to make it to the hospital wing.'

Figures bustled about in the dorm and he drifted in and out of consciousness. He was also pretty sure the dark figure in the very back was Professor Snape, who was waving his wand fluidly. Or at least a long thing from a dark mass was moving back and forth in complicated gestures. So Harry was probably right.

He shifted tiredly, hunching his shoulders forward when he began coughing. His throat and lungs burned as his coughs became increasingly violent, breaths coming in short gasps as he shook from the coughs.

Collapsing against the bed, his eyes flicked to the side when a glass edge touched his lips. From the smell, it was likely some horrid potion. He swallowed and didn't have enough energy to show disgust at the taste - all he did was swallow and hack, trying to ensure that he didn't choke on the potion.

A whine escaped his throat when the heat began increasing gradually, taking huffy breaths as the heat slowly became unbearable. He shifted and turned, throwing his head back at the consuming heat. Harry scrunched his face and took heaving breaths, hoping that it didn't get any worse.

And then came the pain.

A white-hot pain erupted, making his lurch forward with a cry. Sobs built in his throat and he squeezed his eyes shut as the pain seared through him. The sobs came through when the very definition of pain speared into his chest and wrapped itself around him. He twisted with blazing nerve endings, screaming in agony and pleading for the pain to end.

The brain-melting, bone-shattering, blood-boiling, mind-breaking, black out pain was wrapping around him so tightly that he couldn't breath. His lungs couldn't gather enough air as he made noises and moved around, spots dancing in his eyes.

He clawed at his arms, chest, throat, intent on getting the misery to stop with his barely coherent mind. He screamed and twisted, pleading for someone to makethepainstop! Harry wasn't even half aware of the any the words coming from his mouth, far too gone from the agony and only able to heave great sobs and cries.

His magic lashed out, trying to protect him from whatever was harming him, half of it cocooning him to lessen the pain. Startled cries and scream met Harry's ears and he felt a sliver of satisfaction break through in his clouded mind.

Then the pain dimmed significantly, so suddenly, and he was scrambling to the edge of his bed, vomiting and sobbing in pain. His body trembled like a leaf in the wind as he let his head hung, far too tired to even think about moving himself into the correct position.

Hands grabbed his upper arms; one set was softer and the other more calloused. Harry was laid gently on the bed and he looked up at blue and brown eyes. Hermione looked pale and slightly sick while Ron was so white his freckles looked like thick spots of brown against his face. He giggled deliriously and let his eyes shift between his friends.

There were pretty colors shifting around them and he stared at them. Harry giggled again and a hand touched his forehead gently.

"J-just get some rest mate. We'll be there when you wake up." He hummed softly before closing his eyes.

Then there was nothing more.

Author's Note:

Hi and welcome to another story of mine! This was doing pretty well on AO3 so I decided to introduce it here!

If you're from one of my other stories, Hi and thanks for chekcing this out!

If you aren't and you're new, Hi and thanks for checking this story out!

For everybody, feel free to check out my other stories, all varying in themes and topics. I absolutely adore comments and the like, so feel free to drop one!

Also... notice here, please do not ask me when I will update! Pretty please, with a cherry on top. I will updaete with life permits and I have the inspriation. I have other stories to update as well so that takes up my time. I try but sometimes I cannot. Please respect this!

Anyways, I hope you enjoy the rest of your day!

The Author!