A/N: Sorry for the lack of updates! Been crazy busy, had writer's block...etc. So, those of you who are still reading the lousy piece of crap that is MMotCS, I won't be updating in awhile. Probably not From the Ink either. I'm updating this because I have inspiration, when I have no inspiration, the story is awful.

And I now have a beta! Give it up for KCWROX! So, I will be posting up the story un-beta-d first, then I'll post up the beta-d version when she's done editing. That way you can all have updates ASAP.

And I have to give a shout-out. UnknownUnseenUnheard, thank you, thank you, THANK YOU for PM-ing back and forth with me, and giving me some spectacular ideas! I don't think the story would be nearly as exciting without you giving me some ideas and tips, so once again, thanks a million!

DISCLAIMER: ...right...I own this. That was sarcasm, in case you couldn't tell.

CHAPTER AD: Mmm...thinking...what haven't I already done...

Well, Partially Kissed Hero, by Perfect Lionheart is always good if you want ManipulativeandEvil!Dumbles and Super-ish!Harry. Basically, a Dementor kisses Harry, knocking Tom Riddle's soul loose, allowing Harry to access the info in Tom's soul and then...stuff happens. I didn't read the whole thing, it was long and I have the attention span of a two-year-old, but I remember liking it!

Beta note: I personally think this is a great chapter! Have fun reading it!

Chapter Seven: Nightmares and a Heart-to-Heart (NOW BETA-D)

Harry

Number 12, Grimmauld Place. Doom and gloom, but better than a lab with people wanting to dissect you. So, for a one-day, one-night stay, it'll do.

"Harry."

I turn around, making eye contact with Sirius. He stands in the doorway of the room I share with Ron, Fang, and Iggy, looking pained.

"Can I talk to you?"

I shrug, and step out, following Sirius down the hall, down the stairs, and into a formal living room. He directs me to sit in the armchair closest to the fire and I sink down into it, before meeting his gaze with an inquisitive look.

"You wanted to talk?"

"Yeah." I notice he looks slightly uncomfortable. "Um...Harry, do you want to talk about...this summer? Get it off your chest?"

I stare at him in disbelief for a second, then slowly shake my head. "I don't think I can," I say, avoiding his eyes. My voice is still raspy, my vocal chords probably damaged from my constant screaming. Whether it's permanent or not, I don't know. Good thing I'm not a singer, or my career would have been ruined...

I mentally shake myself, snapping out of my tangent, and turn my attention back to Sirius.

"Why?"

"I..." I swallow, then try to speak again. "It...brings back memories. Talking about it, I mean. Ones that I'd rather forget."

"Harry...please, just talk to me."

"I'm sorry. I can't. I tried talking to Max, it just made the nightmares worse."

"You're having nightmares?"

"Every night."

"About?"

"They're memories. The memories of...the summer."

Sirius winces.

"What did the Death Eaters want with you?"

Showtime. My act was on.

"I don't know if they were Death Eaters, exactly. I just… assumed they were, since no other group of wizards had any reason to kidnap me. But they never talked to me, except to taunt me. I don't know what they wanted with me, or with any of the others."

Sirius just nods. He has a look that says he doesn't quite believe me.

"Well, if that's all..." I stand, nod at Sirius, and start to exit the room.

"Harry."

I turn.

"If you ever want to talk about anything, I'll be here."

For a minute I'm tempted to go back, sit down, burst into tears and tell him everything, the wings, the School, the expiration date, everything.

But if I did that I'd be weak. And I have to stay strong.

"I'll keep that in mind."

And I walk out.

A woman stands over me. She has short black hair that falls just below her ears, quite a few gruesome scars on her face, cold, merciless eyes the color of coal, and a sadistic smile on her face. She grins at me as the Erasers secure my flailing limbs to a pristine lab table.

My eyes meet hers, full of fear and begging for mercy.

She just laughs.

She flicks on a tape recorder, which will probably be used later to analyze my anguished cries, and pulls a red-hot poker from a nearby furnace.

I struggle in vain against my bonds as she approaches, her laughs growing louder and louder with every step she takes. How does she live with herself? How does she sleep at night?

I manage to hold back a scream as the iron burns into my arm, shutting my eyes in a desperate attempt to keep myself from crying.

After maybe a minute the iron is removed, and I inhale shakily, trying to fill my lungs with air now that I don't have to hold back streams.

I glance at my arm, where the angry burn will soon fade and join the dozens of other marks.

I don't even notice as she comes up behind me, holding a pot of molten metal.

This time, I scream.

"Harry! HARRY!"

I gasp, jolting upright in bed. Ron, Fang, and Iggy stand over me, staring at me in concern.

"Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah, I'm fine. Just a nightmare."

Iggy and Fang seem to understand perfectly, nodding at me with sympathetic looks before collapsing back into their beds. Ron lingers for a moment.

"Are you sure you're alright? You were screaming."

"I'm fine."

He doesn't seem to know what to say. Finally, he just nods, before climbing back into bed.

I roll over, remembering the dream, or more appropriately, flashback. The woman. She had been the one to torment me the most. She was also the one who was the most creative with her torture methods. She loved to use hot and cold, freezing and burning me constantly. And electricity. More than half of my electrode marks had been gained under her watchful eye.

I didn't even know her name. None of the other whitecoats ever called her by it. I could tell that she was the lady in control though. The way the other whitecoats seemed to fear her...and with good reason.

I shudder, force the image of her pain-promising smile out of my head and try to get some sleep.

Finally it comes.

"Come on! We're running late, we're going to miss the train!"

I follow behind the happy group of my friends and family. Making the train seems so meaningless now, so trivial. Half of me wonders why I'm even bothering going back to school this year. Why am I wasting the last year of my life? Why am I getting an education I'll never need when I should be seeing the wonders that the world has to offer?

But I don't want to spend the time bitter and alone, every second tense, waiting, counting down the days.

Maybe being at Hogwarts can take my mind of my death sentence. Just maybe.

But somehow I doubt it.

"Harry?"

Hermione's voice snaps me out of my morbid thoughts.

"Oh. Sorry. Just thinking."

She smiles at me, tight-lipped. None of my friends seem to know what to say. It's like they're walking on thin ice around me, tiptoeing, not knowing what to say in case it's the wrong thing.

And I was once like that, it seems. Once cared that what I said would label me as a freak, once cared what people thought of me. But now...

I don't care whether or not people think I'm crazy, or a liar. I just can't seem to muster up the energy to care. I'll be dead soon anyway, so why bother?

Just before I run through the wall that separates the Muggle world from the Magical one, I take one last, fleeting glance. After all, I may never see this station again.

We mill amongst the churning crowd of people, shouldering our way through to get to the train. Mrs. Weasley bids farewell, waving and smiling. I try to memorize the faces, hers, Mr. Weasley's, the dog that is Sirius. Angel and Gazzy, who are staying behind at Grimmauld Place while we go to Hogwarts.

And then the trains whistle blows and I clamber on board.

Nudge runs off to find some friends (I have no doubt that she'll make some within minutes), and the rest of us find a compartment. Max, Fang, and Iggy seem to be forcing themselves to act normal, whereas Ron and Hermione don't seem to know what to say.

"Fang, Iggy, let's go find another compartment," Max says eventually. "Give these three some time to catch up, shall we?"

They walk off.

"So," I begin, turning to face Ron and Hermione, putting up my mask, "how was your summer?"

"It was...okay," says Hermione hesitantly. I sigh.

"Hermione, enough with worrying you'll say something wrong, okay? Just...act normal, okay? Pretend I was never..." I trail off.

Tortured. Pretend I was never tortured. Pretend I'm not different. Pretend I'm not haunted. Pretend I'm not broken.

The unspoken words hang in the air.

I decided I wasn't going to let them.

"...tortured," I finish, looking them in the eye. They look surprised, probably that I willingly said it.

"I was tortured," I say, as if stating the sky is blue, or that the weather was nice. "It happened. It's over. I'm moving on."

Lies.

"...Harry," Hermione begins, not seeming to know what to say.

"I. Am. Moving. On. I don't want to talk about it. I don't want it to be the elephant in the room, either. Stop acting so awkward around me. I am still Harry."

More lies. I'm not still Harry. Not really. He's gone.

Hermione looks about ready to say something, I'm not sure what, when Ron cuts her off.

"So, Harry," he begins. "What do think are the odds of our team now that Oliver's gone?"

I smile. Good old Ron.

"Are you kidding me? The other teams don't stand a chance."

A knowing smirk.

How can they, when the Gryffindor Seeker was made for this?

Hermione

Harry's off. Different.

I can't say I expected him not to be.

But it's not quite PTSD, which I've read about it psychology books. It's more like something's weighing on his mind, always there, although he tries to push it away.

Even as he and Ron chatter away, I can tell he's trying to just act normal, that he's hiding behind a mask. It's not just what happened over the summer.

It can't be just that.

Something's yet to happen. He's afraid of something.

I don't know what.

I'm not sure if I want to know.

A/N: So... 'Mione (why do people call her that...?) and Sirius are suspicious. No, Harry's not going to fly in a Quidditch match (well he will, but you know what I mean. If you don't...go back and actuallyreadthe fic.) He just means he's made to fly, that's all. So he's light, aerodynamic, etc.

So...the next chapter will include a snarky Malfoy, a suspicious Ron, and a Hogwarts student body wondering what on earth happened to Harry.

Bless your face, if you sneezed while reading this, bless you! (virtual cookies to anyone who can tell me where this is from!)

-Winged Quill