Chapter Forty-Four: It Begins

Harry struggled awake, hands flailing at the people around him. He could hear the voices of more than a few of his year mates, which meant he had woken the entire House yet again.

"Harry?" Draco caught his hand and held it tight, giving Harry something to anchor to. The bits and pieces in his head felt a little more fragile than normal – they felt –

His back bowed as the strands flashed in front of his eyes. "Mmm-," his tongue felt too thick in his mouth, flooded already by the coppery taste of his own blood. More people pressed close – someone touched his shin where it was covered by the blanket –

Pansy frozen mid-laugh, the expensive dress robes curled around her thickening middle, one hand resting on the noticeable curve as Millicent and another man looked on…

Another hand grabbed him –

Sasha throwing a book at Seamus as he laughed and held out a box for her to take, even as she pelted him with more hard objects, her wand laying quiet on the desk in front of her…

"S-s-stop…"

"Harry? Harry?"

Draco again, this time older, his narrow face smoothing into the fine planes of his Malfoy heritage, striding down the halls of the Ministry, as furious as Harry had ever seen him…

"Stop…"

"Where is the blood coming from?"

Madam Pomfrey, old and wrinkled, knitting afghans by the light and warmth of a roaring fire, a fragrant cup of tea at her elbow…

Harry gasped in a breath, hearing the wet burble of blood in the back of his throat. "Stop touching me!" The shriek filled the air, causing hands to be snatched away. Draco alone stayed, hand anchoring Harry's, keeping the worst of the chaos at bay. Harry rolled onto his side and wretched, feeling Draco put his free hand on Harry's back, rubbing small circles as Harry emptied what was left in his stomach.

The hand on his back left and reappeared with a rag, helping Harry clean off and rinse his mouth out with a glass of water that materialized after the rag was taken away. "Sip the rest," Draco helped Harry sit up. Harry's hands trembled too much to drink by himself.

"Harry?" Madam Pomfrey stood near the bed, her white apron splotched with blood. Harry tried not to think about the state of his own sheets.

"D-dream," he rasped, heart tripping over itself as the memories rushed forward. "The winter king!" He tried to push himself up and off the bed, but his body refused to cooperate. "The – Gwyn ap Nudd! I saw – the Morrigan!"

"Harry, calm down, one thing at a time." Draco set the water on the bedside table, gave Sasha a black glare for inching closer and turned back. "What did you see?"

"The Morrigan is trapped in the Dark, in a pit made into a room –," Harry waved a hand. "I can't – it's just a room," he said to Sasha's frown. "Then I heard fighting, it was Gwyn ap Nudd and he was fighting someone – or more than just one – and they pushed him into the room and then he screamed…"

"You are sure it was the Lord of Annwn that you saw?" Professor Snape asked.

"Definitely," Harry clenched his fists in the sheets. "They've been captured and they need help!"

"Harry…"

"The Dark took me there!" His mind felt like it wanted to race ahead, like there was some door that would open and explain everything, if only he could get there in time…

"Harry," Draco said, squeezing the hand he still held. "Did you see who took them?"

The air rushed from his lungs. "No – damn it, no." He wanted to shake and rage. He could almost see the Path he was on fade out. "We need to do something, Draco. It's almost too late! There are no more branches for me to take!"

"Mr. Potter?" Madam Pomfrey glanced over him with a worried frown.

The world was starting to crack again. He scooted away from the nearing press of people, seeing the strands of the future beginning to crowd in on him. "Stop –," he flung out a hand. Everyone froze. "Please don't come any closer," he drew his knees to his chest and tried to calm his racing heart.

Snape cast an eye over the crowd in the room. "Everyone out," he said after a moment's inspection. Sasha had a mutinous expression on her face, but Severus' glower proved the stronger of the two wills. She stalked from the room after Pansy and Millicent. Blaise took Neville's hand and pulled him away, leaving Harry with the two adults and Draco still perched on the side of the bed.

The soft thump of the door closing behind the students seemed to echo in the room. Harry kept his gaze on his and Draco's interlinked hands. Sometimes he would get flashes – Draco laughing, exasperated, angry – but it grounded him, kept him from falling through the widening cracks in his mind. It soothed the wounded part of his soul as well, seeing all those images of Draco, from young to wrinkled, all of them linked with Harry one way or another.

Harry was damned determined for those particular futures to come true, even if he had to rearrange Heaven and Hell to guarantee it.

"Mr. Potter…Harry," Severus folded his hands into the sleeves of his robes, staring down at the bed with dark eyes. "Please explain."

Harry caught his lower lip between his teeth and cut a glance at Draco. The blond blinked back at him, expression blank and serene. Harry hesitated – he had hinted at the problem with Auror Rayne, but…

Even to me it sounds like I'm going barmy, he ducked his head to hide the embarrassed flush.

"It will be all right, Harry," Draco said.

"I…" He risked a glance up at the adults. "Ever since the…thing at the – the place –," he couldn't say the name of the mental ward without stuttering now. "Ever since then, parts of me are sort of…broken."

"Broken," Snape echoed.

Harry looked down before he could catch the man's expression. "Yeah," he said. "They…It's a lot easier now to See," he licked his lips. "When, when I lose control of it, when too many people get close, I can't, it's too hard to filter it out, to – to make sense of which future is which. Which will or won't come true." He shrugged, smoothing his free hand over the comforter. They would need to strip the bed again. "I can't stop it and it hurts to – to See it all. I don't have a choice, you know?"

"This is happening all the time?"

Harry flinched at the tone, getting a reassuring squeeze from Draco a second later. "Yes and no," he spoke to his knees. "Draco blocks a lot of it. The further away from people I am, the better, easier it is for me to keep it at bay."

There was an ominous silence from the adults. "And why, exactly, did you not come forward with this information earlier?"

Harry shrugged, tugging at the hand held fast in Draco's grip. He wanted a bath, a change of clothes and a hot drink. He wanted somewhere warm and dark and safe and –

"Madam Pomfrey?" Draco's voice cut through the rising babble of his thoughts. "Would you help Harry clean up? I'm worried about his blood loss."

"Of course," soft hands waited for his permission to touch. Harry took a steadying breath and then made a face at the smell that lodged in his throat.

"I've some replenishing potions in the Infirmary, young man," Poppy guided him up out of bed and into a robe and slippers. "Let's have a bit of a walk as the house elves clear this up."

"Yes, ma'am," he leaned into her side, the strength he'd pulled from Draco enough to block the lingering strands that threatened to tangle him deeper into the abyss.

When they were gone, Draco turned to the still silent Potions Master. "Perhaps we should speak elsewhere," he said as Dobby popped into the room.

"Perhaps," the Professor agreed.

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Severus' jaw ached from clenching it. His teeth were tender from their tight grind. Harry had – he cut the thought off ruthlessly. The boy – the boy…

"You should break something," Draco took a seat on one of the stuffed couches in his office. "Merlin knows I did."

"They shattered his mind, Draco?" He exploded. "And you didn't think to tell us that?"

The blond arched an eyebrow and laced his fingers over his stomach. "No," Draco said. "We thought to tell you of it, but Harry was afraid you would do exactly what you did."

"I – what?"

"He's not mad, Severus," Draco said on a sigh, reaching up to rub at his temple. "He is merely…more now. Before, he was a Dreamer, able to see the strands only in specific dreams. Dreamers are rare and are often born at the beginning of a new age."

Severus stared at the boy. "Draco…"

"We all got gifts at midwinter," the blond laughed and dropped his hand. "I had a few other gifts I haven't told you about either."

"Explain."

"I can't," Draco's smile left shadows lingering in his eyes. "But I can explain a little about what's happening with Harry."

"Do so."

"As far as I can tell, from what he's told me and what we experienced, the Healers fed Harry a variety of potions that enhanced the already changed state of Harry's mind."

"And?"

"They overloaded his system," Draco sat up and leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. "The human mind is not meant to see such things. Even Pythia explained that. Seers, such as they were in her age, were always sequestered, kept away from people, thought mad because they would convulse and foam at the mouth. The truth was, the stronger the petitioner's will, the more dynamic a person stood in front of them, the more the Seer was bombarded with the possible futures, causing the convulsions as their bodies tried to process what their mind could not."

"But you said Harry was a Dreamer."

"He was until that night at St. Mungo's. Even then he had the talent – a gift the Wild Magic gave him that night at the Manor. He is still a Dreamer, he's just…more now, too."

"You know this?"

"In a way," Draco tilted his head to one side. "In a way I have seen it before."

"But how…" Severus stared at the boy, rage and confusion circling his gut. "What happened to you, Draco?"

"Could we have a cup of tea, first?" The wan smile highlighted the shadows under his eyes. "This might take a while."

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Harry was settling back into his cleaned bed when his Head of House tapped on the door and stepped inside. Harry felt his stomach clench – he chided himself for the reaction. Snape was nothing like Sirius, he knew that, and yet still…

"How are you, Harry?" Professor Snape came up to stand next to Madam Pomfrey.

"Fine," he ducked his head.

"He needed two blood replenishing potions," Poppy tutted. "But there are no signs of where the blood is coming from. I have spoken with Mr. Potter and he has agreed to come for some tests just to make sure there is no lasting harm from these…episodes."

"Of course, a wise decision," the Potion Master's soft tone made Harry feel distinctly nervous. "Could we have a moment, please, Poppy?"

"I was just going," Madam Pomfrey patted the space next to Harry's foot. She had been very good at keeping her touches brief enough that Harry could picked up nothing from her possible futures.

Madam Pomfrey slipped out of the door, leaving them alone. Harry stared straight ahead, watching the renewed fire twist on the hearth.

"Draco has spoken to me about what you believe has occurred," Snape pulled up a chair to sit next to the bed. "I am here to apologize for my earlier behavior."

"W-what?" Harry whipped around to stare at the man. "You're not going to yell?"

A hint of a wry smile flitted across the older man's face. "I find myself in the possession of several revelations tonight, Harry. My anger is a conditioned response, but even it can be tempered."

"Right," Harry eyed the man. "Are you feeling all right, sir?"

"Mr. Potter."

"Yes, sir." The tightness began to ease around his heart.

"I do wish, however," Snape studied his fingers, leaving Harry to search his face for expression, "You would feel comfortable enough to speak to me about such things. I can understand your…hesitancy at present. I shall endeavor to prove to you that not all of the adults in your life are as…fickle as you have experienced in your past."

Harry dropped his gaze to the coverlet spread over him. "Thank you, sir. I will…think about it."

"That is all I ask." Snape made as if to leave, hesitating at Harry's aborted twitch. "Mr. Potter?"

"I just…would you mind staying?" Harry frowned down at his hands. "Draco's probably asleep, right?"

"Yes."

"I just…It helps, to have someone here. If you don't mind, sir." He felt like such a baby…but it was true. He felt better falling asleep with another person in the room, the weaving strands of their past, present and future enough to block out any stray dreams that came at him as he hovered between sleep and awareness.

"Then I shall stay," Severus settled back into his chair. Harry burrowed under his blankets, turned on his side to face the older wizard. "D you wish to speak, or…?"

"If you want," Harry pulled the comforter up until just the top of his head peeked out.

Severus' face was cast into shadow by the position of his chair. "When I was a student here, the Slytherin dorms were arranged quite differently…"

Harry was asleep before his Head of House could finish his description.

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Imbolic arrived the next day. Slytherin House had had plans in the works for a small ceremony to take place near the lake; a symbolic bonfire to be lit and cones of incense to be offered to the flames. It had been the idea of some of the younger House members, whose families still celebrated the old rituals. The rest of the House had liked the idea and had agreed on using the rite for them all.

Harry had argued his way back into classes. His mental world was mended enough to ease through the halls, Slytherins surrounding him, keeping the other students from brushing up against him by accident.

There was no more common room outside his mental Cupboard-Under-The-Stairs. Draco and Auror Rayne had encouraged Harry to keep trying to visualize his mind, to piece it back together and remake it into an image that he liked. He had not had the heart to tell them about the reality of the situation – although he was willing to bet Draco knew more that he was saying about the matter.

The room beyond the broken door to his mental Cupboard-Under-the-Stairs was a kaleidoscope place; sometimes there was a mosaic floor that shifted as he watched, sometimes there wasn't a floor at all, just a yawning abyss that he could not look at straight on.

The door that had frightened him so much the first time was broken, twisted open all the time, the terror of it making Harry unable to get close enough to try and mend it closed. Sometimes there were melds of creatures, people, ghosts of things Harry had no name for and wasn't sure if they had ever existed on their plane of existence at all.

On his good days, the room Beyond appeared more like a Great Hall, like Hogwarts'. The ceiling would shift, sometimes stars, sometimes images of people, but easy enough to ignore if he concentrated a bit. The flagstone floors were his greatest comfort, in his mind he could feel the heft and weight of them, solid and reassuring, a flat gray that spoke no secrets from the deep.

Harry relished the relative silence in his mind as much as he relished the feel of being allowed around the castle, free to roam – if he had company. He looped and arm through Neville's as they made their way to their first class, the boys laughing as Pansy skipped backwards, finger shaking her rage at the lot of them.

The morning of Imbolic started out just fine.

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Sasha's finger froze on the page of the dusty tome. She sat up, the muscles in her neck and back protesting the movement.

"Sasha?" Seamus asked, peering at her with a stripe of dust over his nose.

"I…think I've found it."

"We've heard that before."

"Shut your hole, muggleborn," Sasha snarled at Hermione, the third to their little group. Lunch was almost over. They had been scouring the Library for months, even arranging passes to the Restricted Section from their teachers. They had come up with nothing the entire time – plenty of false leads, but nothing that seemed to fit all the pieces of their puzzle. With Harry's extra information, they had narrowed their searches a bit, but there was till a swath of information to be dredged and only so much time in a day.

"It says here," Sasha squinted at her translation quill. "That when winter fell early and the children's blood ran thick on the dry earth, that the Dark God was afoot."

"Poetry?"

"Granger, I swear –,"

"What else does it say?" Seamus tapped the book with one long finger.

"Not much," Sasha smoothed a hand over the worn page. "But – that sounds close, right?"

"Yes, but which Dark God?" Hermione made a face and pushed her own dusty tome to the side. "There should be a clearly labeled compendium of…" She stopped and blinked a few times.

Sasha sat up straighter. "What?"

Hermione smacked her forehead with an open palm. "I'm a bloody idiot!" She pushed back her chair with a loud scrape and rushed from their private corner.

"It took her this long to figure it out?"

"Sasha…" Seamus sighed and took a few notes on a loose sheaf of paper. "I'll go looking for more references."

Sasha made a face at his retreating back. When he was gone, she looked back down at the text, letting her fingers hover over the ancient words.

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Harry entered the Great Hall in the center of a group of Slytherins. Draco was at his side, showing him the wrist flick for their newest Charms test – Harry had been unable to concentrate from the moment he had entered the diminutive professor's classroom – he wasn't sure why.

His earlier good mood was crumbling bit by bit. The morning had been pleasant – if a bit strained. Ginny had sat near the knot of sixth year students, but did not speak to them, preferring the new company of her own year mates instead. The entire House had noticed the shift, but were leaving it up for Harry to decide their reaction.

He still was not sure how he felt – a large part of him still felt betrayed by Sirius, but Ginny had had nothing to do with it – at least not the St. Mungo's affair. He was still somehow angry at her – Rayne said he was transferring some of his anger to the girl because he could not confront Sirius himself – and Harry agreed with that…to a point. Another part of him was angry at her, wanting her to take his side, to defend him against Sirius' bitter wails – but that train of thought often made him feel like a great git. Of course she would support Sirius. She was his bloody daughter now. She loved the man Harry had claimed as a godfather for longer than she had had him as a father – and that was where he started feeling like a git again.

He had managed to push the majority of those worries aside by lunch. The heavy feeling of something-is-coming still seemed to hover in the air around him, causing him to breathe shallow and pant for air.

He did not mark the absence of Sasha from their table as the vision pounced. Harry felt his book bag slip from his shoulder as his entire body stiffened with shock. The world darkened at the edges.

He did not hear the rush of worried questions that washed over him. He did not feel the hands that grasped his body as he fell, convulsing, to the ground, mouth bloody from where he had bitten through his lips and tongue as he fell.

His back arched as he screamed – and then the pain was gone, he was gone, pulled out by soft hands linked with his own.

He squinted in the brightness – everywhere was white, white and more white. There was neither up nor down, all he had to anchor himself was the warm clasp of flesh against his own.

He blinked watering eyes. "Pythia?"

The Oracle smiled, but the expression faded before it reached her eyes. "I do not have much time, Harry."

"What's wrong?"

"They have taken me."

"What? But –," he tried to yank his hands from hers. Her fingers bit into his skin like an iron trap.

"There is not time, Harry." She shook her head. "Evil rises in the west with this night. I will be fed to the fires at high noon, the bloody offering to a gentle goddess. It is beginning, Harry."

"What? But how – why –"

"Harry," she shook their linked hands. The blank white field around them began to tremble. "I have been a poor teacher. I have had little time to teach you the things you need to know. But there is this, and you must remember it."

"W-what?"

"The future is not as tenuous as you think. The strands are thick enough to balance on, do you remember?"

"What – but, wait –"

"Do. You. Remember?"

Harry's breath caught in his throat. He remembered Draco – he remembered the abyss, but…

"I don't understand!"

"Evil rises, Harry." She stepped close. "In this place I cannot speak its name. He has taken two, two of the most powerful, you already know their names. The end to it all, to bring down the world in all its bloody glory he will sacrifice them on the day of equal night. The balance will shatter if you do not move it, Harry. You must rescue them. No one else will be able to find the way. The mortal world is lost if you do not walk, do you understand?"

"But…"

"The future splinters –," Pythia pressed her lips to his forehead. "My death shatters the gazes of the gods. Be quick, Harry. You have no time to lose. Rescue them before Ostara or all is lost." She stepped back and let go of his hands. Harry reached for her, his balance gone and his mind tangled with questions.

The rush of flames crashed between them, searing her from his sight.

End Chapter Forty-Four