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He felt dirty, contaminated, as though he were carrying some deadly germ, unworthy to sit on the underground train back from the hospital with innocent, clean people whose minds and bodies were free of the taint of Voldemort.
Was he the weapon Voldermort sort, a ticking time bomb amongst their midst waiting to go off?
"Are you all right, Harry, dear?" whispered Mrs. Weasley, leaning across Ginny to speak to him as the train rattled along through its dark tunnel. "You don't look very well. Are you feeling sick?"
They were all watching him. He shook his head violently and stared up at an advertisement for home insurance.
"Harry, dear, are you sure you're all right?" said Mrs. Weasley in a worried voice, as they walked around the unkempt patch of grass in the middle of Grimmauld Place. "You look ever so pale. . . . Are you sure you slept this morning? You go upstairs to bed right now, and you can have a couple of hours' sleep before dinner, all right?"
He nodded; here was a ready-made excuse not to talk to any of the others, which was precisely what he wanted, so when she opened the front door he proceeded straight past the troll's leg umbrella stand and up the stairs and hurried into his and Ron's bedroom.
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He spent the better part of the day boarded up in Buckbeak's room while everybody else spent the following morning putting up Christmas decorations.
Harry could not remember Sirius ever being in such a good mood; he was actually singing carols, apparently delighted that he was to have company over Christmas.
Harry could hear his voice echoing up through the floor in the cold and empty drawing room where he was sitting alone, watching the sky outside the windows growing whiter, threatening snow, all the time feeling a savage pleasure that he was giving the others the opportunity to keep talking about him, as they were bound to be doing.
When he heard Mrs. Weasley calling his name softly up the stairs around lunchtime he retreated farther upstairs and ignored her.
It was around six o'clock in the evening that the doorbell rang and Mrs. Black started screaming again. Assuming that Mundungus or some other Order member had come to call, Harry merely settled himself more comfortably against the wall of Buckbeak the hippogriff's room where he was hiding, trying to ignore how hungry he felt as he fed Buckbeak dead rats.
.
Eventually Hermione managed to coax him out of his hiding place.
"Now come on Laura and Carmilla have come back and Dumbledore's here to see you."
"They were supposed to be in Norway for another week but I think he brought them back so Carmilla could take a look at you."
He allowed her to pull him along as his mind worked furiously remembering Moody's words.
Dumbledore was waiting for them in the kitchen. With him Carmilla and Laura sat being fused over by Mrs. Weasley while the others pestered them about their trip.
Tugging him by the hand Hermione pulled them over to the aged wizard.
Waving off questions about an encounter with a Hag, Carmilla joined them leaving Laura to fend off the questions and the Weasley matron's fussing on her own.
Settling down his tea Dumbledore began. "Ah, Harry I see that you and Miss Granger have joined us." "In the wake of your vision it seems prudent for my old friend to take a look at you."
He paused before glancing at Carmilla who gave an almost imperceptible nod before carrying on.
"If my suspicions are correct it would be best that we take care of this now rather than later."
"I think though that this might be something better talked of in private, come I've secured the Library for us while we talk."
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The Black family library was true to his word empty when they arrived.
Some of the books were quite dark in nature but thankfully none had been cursed and the room was comfortable enough Harry supposed.
"What, exactly are you going to do?" He asked somewhat nervous at the prospect of Carmilla, 'taking a look at him'.
Her eyes gleamed wickedly as she gave a smile that made him squirm uncomfortable, "oh, nothing much."
Her examination was odd and Harry was reminded rather forcibly of Ollivander's examination of him when he'd first gone to get his wand.
After giving the rest of his body a quick one over she examined his scar in detail drawing uncomfortably close as she inhaled deeply before recoiling.
Nodding at Dumbledore she turned back to her examination. "You were right; his magic's scent's all over him but it's coming from the scar"
Drawing closer again she stared into his eyes, "this is going to prickle."
That was all the warning he got before he felt an odd sensation like a memory he was trying to remember but was just out of reach.
Tearing her eyes from his she turned back to his scar hissing under her breath and Harry felt the prickling sensation at the corner of his mind become painful. It stopped as quickly as it started and Carmilla took a step back from him before turning back to Dumbledore.
"I might be able to contain it for now, but you'll have to give me more time to deal with it properly."
At her words Dumbledore gave a weary sigh before massaging his temples, "that would be for the best I think."
Seeing Harry's confused expression he spoke.
"I think Harry, that's it's time I explain."
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An: Horcruxes will be coming into play much earlier, as in right now.