Delusional
Jessylane318
He was in a cupboard-like room, hiding as the footsteps rushed by and the shouts echoed. Dust filled the cramped corners and darkness laid like a heavy blanket, draining the energy even as it revitalized him. Harry was uncomfortable, cold and hot at the same time, irritable, and his hand throbbed painfully beneath the bandages. But it wasn't enough to distract his thoughts. He wanted to go home. He wanted his friends. He wanted away.
Why couldn't he just be normal?
"Harry!" He said nothing, silently sobbing as the emotions bit at his heart, stopping his throat like one of those fat corks pressed into the potion vials. An icy impression creaked from his stomach, ascending like the tiny spider on his ankle; stopping the coughs and cries with a mute disinterest. Harry held tightly to himself as he leaned against bags of flour and wheat. "Harry!"
The cupboard door creaked open, and Harry caught a glimpse of gray, broken and reflected before a shout of acclaim took his ears by surprise.
"Harry!" deduced the voice, but it became quieter after a moment. Softer and more sincere. "What are you doing in here? Are you hurt? Ill? Why did you not answer when I called?"
"Go away..." whispered Harry, hating the slight quiver and the decisive weakness in it. Why wouldn't they just leave him alone? That was what they wanted, to get rid of him! Let him rot in their cupboard... Wasn't that what the Dursley's did? Just hide him away? Why should these people care any different? Oh, but the room was full of food, and probably warranted more respect than his decaying corpse. He was nothing but a fire-making wizard! No, worse. A menace. "Just leave me alone..."
The elf, Elrohir from the musical tone, made a strange face through the darkness, probably one of accomplishment. They'd found him. He let loose another sob, this time louder, resigned to his fate. He didn't want to fight anymore. He wanted to go back to the way things used to be. To Hogwarts, with his friends and their happy, smiling faces, before Riddle and the diary. Before this wild adventure. Before his supposed friend's mutiny.
"What is wrong young wizard?" Harry winced at the name. "And you have not yet answered my questions. Why are you crying in the dark?"
"I am not crying," he managed to say, before fear and weariness drained him of his courage. "And what do you care? Just go... leave me alone!"
"Young-" the elf obviously saw the wince this time and changed his words, "Harry. Won't you come out of here? A fire roars in the hearth, and the cook always keeps something delicious for the night. Best yet, we have a most comfortable couch that you would like well, red furnished and fluffed, that sinks in when you sit. So come, won't you? This cupboard is for the food, not little wizards!"
Harry had the distinct feeling the elf had done this before. His numb arms and legs craved to find the heavenly haven described. But what if it was a trap? What if they wanted to lure him in, unsuspecting, and dispose of him quick like? Maybe a sword through his gut, or decapitation. He doubted they hung people or burned (at least not Harry who could put out flames) or drowned.
"Go away!" he groaned, remembering the taste of the last Elvish meal. He had missed lunch and could hear his stomach growl. Why wouldn't they just leave him alone? Hadn't they lied enough? Hadn't they deceived him enough?
"Harry..."
"No!" he shouted, his eyes blurring with tears as a memories burned withing his mind. Fresh and old. "Enough!" Aragorn's face as he glared. Gandalf as he pondered the predicament. The words behind the door. The hobbits, laughing gaily as they chased each other with screams and shouts. His fingers had lost their feeling and his sore hand was no longer sore. No longer even a hand, just a numb appendage that shifted in the blackness occasionally. "No just stop! Why won't you all just stop?"
"Stop what?"
The innocent tone, the curious uncertainty, the worry. He could hardly stand it, he could hardly breathe. This was worse than any snake; than any possessed teacher; than any troll; than any cupboard.
"No... Stop! Stop lying and staring and... and..."
And arms were wrapping around him, pulling him from the corner, from the uncomfortable position. He tried to fight, tried in a futile effort to protect himself from the crushing limbs. But they grabbed him with an inhumane strength, held him, pulled him close as fingers rummaged through his hair.
"I can't understand if you won't tell me," whispered Elrohir. Harry only buried his face in the soft elven tunic. The embrace was warm and full, holding him afloat as the world seemed to swim around him. "Why did you run from Estel?"
Harry mumbled something unintelligible.
"Harry," asked the elf, his voice stronger and serious, "why did you run from Estel and not answer when we called?"
"Because he's going to kill me." It came out before he could stop it, and he cursed his stupid tongue and the strange fuzz overwhelming his thoughts. He should have played along, should have pretended and then made a run for it!
"What are you talking about, Harry?" asked the elf suddenly intensely, his hands tightening as though to crush the horrible knowledge from him. "Who has threatened to kill you?"
"Aragorn and Gandalf, and the other elves..."
"Preposterous!"
"I heard them!" And then his anger dissipated as the realization set in once more. The betrayal and the pain. They had lied. He buried his face in the shocked elf's tunic once more, sobbing. After a few moments, Elrohir seemed to come to his senses.
"You were eavesdropping on us?" whispered the elf, pulling away to look into Harry's eyes, though Harry could hardly see to find them, his glasses fogged by the heat.
"No... I- I was going to ask- only I heard- and then- and then he-" his words were becoming jumbled as he continued to attempt to talk. His mind kept jumping and going blank as the elf's eyes continued to stare. They pierced the darkness, though he could hardly see them.
"And you thought they were talking about you." Elrohir said it calmly, almost a question, though the elf knew the answer. He knew it all now, and any moment would call Aragorn, drag him out to murder Harry on spot, or maybe drag him to the dungeons. Did elves have dungeons? Would there be a Snape-like man hiding in the darkness? Who did they keep there, other elves? Orcs? "Oh, young wizard, you truly are a child. It is a misunderstanding."
"Misunderstanding?" parroted Harry, baffled and sniffing.
"Yes," agreed the elf, before a wide grin broke out and he swung open the cupboard door, completely dragging Harry out with him.
"Where are we going?"
"To find Estel."
Harry's throat caught in his breath and he would have fallen to a stop if not for Elrohir's firm grip. In that same manner, he dragged him down the halls.
"But- But-"
Elrohir looked down at Harry, gray eyes sharp as they entered Aragorn's room without knocking. It stood empty of life, filled with sharp swords and tools and strange devices. Heavy tomes and scrolls lined the walls, a well made bed pushed in a corner and a desk near by. A pair of boots and a few shirts scattered against the floor.
"You do not wish to see Estel?" Harry shook his head wildly, slightly dizzy, still not completely sure he was wrong. He knew what he heard! They wanted to kill him, the fire-wizard! The menace! The one the elves ignored!
Elrohir obviously understood that and made Harry sit on the bed, though it felt strange and awkward to do so. To sit on Aragorn's bed... On the bed of perhaps his killer?
"Est- Aragorn would never hurt you," answered the elf bluntly, not at all his usual style. "I know not how you could have—it matters not. Aragorn sat by your side for days while you slept off the burns of the fire-"
"How do you know that?" Harry blurted out rudely, before blushing and ducking his head. He felt stupid and anxious.
"Because it was Elladan and I who found you," replied Elrohir quietly. "It was we who brought you back from the burning ravine only barely alive." The elf's eyes lowered, drawing darker. "It was I who informed Estel, and I who had to force him to sleep and to eat and to move."
Harry stared. But... but... And his eyes narrowed, suddenly suspicious.
"Your lying. All of you! I thought... I thought-" he broke off, overcome with nausea. He'd been led right into the room full of swords. Led to the slaughter like a blind fool. Bitterly, he spat, "I thought you a friend."
The tears didn't come this time, but the pain gripped him all the same. Twice the idiot. How could he be such a fool? And without a wand or sword to protect himself with. The elf would beat him thrice by the time he got to a weapon.
"What?" asked Elrohir suddenly bewildered. "Harry! I'm not lying!"
"Yes you are," Harry replied, utterly convinced. "Aragorn hates me! He's hated me from the beginning!" Scenes came back to him then, stealing through his mind and overcoming him."What is this?" whispered a low voice in his ear, the smell of pine and sweat invading his nose. "Surely, not a little boy alone in the woods?" The frigid night, lying in wet clothes far away from the fire so cold and hungry. "You're lying," Strider murmured, his thumb wiping away something from Harry's head. How could anyone care for you, pathetic little boy? "He would never do that! Never!"
"Harry-"
"No! No more lies!" he shrieked. A nearby window cracked through the middle. Harry ignored it, breathing harshly as he tried not to envision the horrors to come. "No more... No..."
"Hush child," scolded the elf, when Harry could scream no more. His throat constricting, draining him of strength. "Estel would-"
"I would what?" asked a hard voice on the other side of the door, the sound muted and swallowed by the slight creak of wood. Aragorn sounded odd, almost anxious. Angry and pained. "Did you find him, Elrohir?"
"I did."
Liars. It had been a trap. And he had been a fool.