Chapter 7
Harry prodded his friend half-heartedly, trying to make him wake up. 'Come on, Ron, wake up, Ron? RON!' this was useless. He pointed his wand at the sleeping form, and with one well placed water charm… 'GAH!' Came a very confused and grumpy yelp. 'Come on, we got Charms after breakfast.' Harry said tiredly. He had not had the best of weekends. Every time he went to sleep he was plagued with terrible nightmares and visions. After reporting his second vision in one night, he had been told of the mass Death Eater meeting and not to bother with telling someone unless it was life threatening. As a result he had slept very little and then not at all.
He went through the motions of breakfast, not noticing when people spoke to him and barely realising that he had taken in very little if any of the lessons before lunch. He sat picking at the food on his plate. He really needed to sleep, what lesson did they have next? Maybe he could skip it…
'HARRY!'
He looked up startled, to find Ron and Hermione waving a hand in front of his face.
'What? Oh, sorry.'
'Did you sleep at all last night?' Hermione asked. He shook his head.
'Visions?' He nodded.
'Maybe you should ask for a dreamless sleep potion or something because you can't go on like this,
Harry, Harry?' She snapped her fingers in front of his face.
He was trying to focus, he really was but concentration escaped him.
'Sorry, I'm just tired, what's now?'
'We have Transfigurations and then…'
Hermione stopped mid sentence, she called Harry's name and when that didn't work, Ron reached out to try and snap his best friend out of it, but the child shied back. They were now walking down the corridor leading to the Transfiguration classroom, but the bushy-haired teen could see her friend was in no state for classes. As they arrived, she told Ron to wait with Harry as she quietly knocked and entered.
'What can I do for you, Miss Granger?' Said Professor McGonigal, looking up from the desk she was working at.
'It's Harry, Professor, he acting really strange, I don't think he slept much on the weekend for … certain reasons.' She answered giving her teacher a significant stare as she spoke the last part.
'I see, and what are you wanting to do about it?'
'Umm, I don't know, maybe you could send him to the matron to get some dreamless sleep potion or something along those lines?' She questioned uncertainly, 'I know he'd be missing classes but I don't think he'd take much in anyway.' Hermione looked hopefully at her teacher.
'Where is Mr Potter at present?'
'Outside with Ron.'
'Right,' McGonigal pulled out her quill and some parchment as the bell signalling the end of lunch rang, 'You may take this' she handed over the parchment, 'and Mr Potter to the infirmary, please tell Mr Weasley to come in and join the class.' Hermione did as she was told, sending a disappointed Ron back into the room, she hadn't thought he would get to miss the lesson, as he hadn't been doing exceptionally well in it lately.
Gently she steered Harry to the infirmary and into the capable hands of the school matron.
'What seems to be the problem, Mrs Granger?' The motherly women inquired as she pointed at a bed for the supposedly ailing child to sit on.
'Well, he's, he's, just look at him. I don't think he's slept for three days and he just seems to...zone out' She said feeling a bit flustered.
The nurse did look, Potter was staring blankly at the wall opposite, seemingly unaware of anything. She waved a hand in front of his face, getting no reaction.
'Right he needs sleep, you can go back to class and I'll send him back to the Gryffindor common room later.' She ushered the girl out and focused on her patient.
She then did a quick check-up, noting the boy had no bruising of any sorts from his previous fall. Fetching a potion out of the stores cabinet, she made the child lie down and tried to administer it to him. However, much to her consternation, Harry refused to drink down the liquid, pursing his lips and pulling away. She quickly dealt with it, forcing his mouth open and using the same technique Snape had a few days prior.
Harry blinked, unable to focus his eyes before realising his glasses weren't on. No matter as he already knew where he was. Only the hospital wing had white curtains surrounding the beds. He wondered idly why he was there, quidditch practise would only starting a two weeks or so, so it couldn't be that. Vaguely he remembered a potion being forced down his throat and then peaceful bliss… wait had the matron seen anything? His hand flew to his neck, clutching the rock, which was hanging there reassuringly No, she couldn't have, or he'd be doing a lot of explaining about now.
He swung his legs off the bed as he put on his glasses, feeling dizziness rush to his head, and the only thought in his head was ouch! He started however, as two hands pushed him firmly down on the bed. 'Steady, Potter, you can go in a moment.' He hadn't realised the medi-witch was there. He forced himself to calm down instantly, hoping she didn't notice anything unusual in his behaviour and doing his best no to wince when she touched painful areas as she proceeded to check his temperature, pulse and other vitals. He knew she wasn't doing it intentionally, she couldn't have known but that didn't stop it hurting.
Finally he was declared fit to leave and was ordered to go back to the Gryffindor dorm and straight to bed. He left, reaching into his pocket for his pain-relief potion, as it obviously didn't react with the other potion he'd been given. Soon after he managed to climb through the portrait-hole, having successfully avoided being caught walking around so late after curfew. Quietly he slipped into his bed, not bothering to change. His short walk had tired him out more than it should but then his already damaged body was still not quite over the 72 hours without sleep period he had endured, so now it was demanding sleep to try and repair itself.
Shortly after he closed his eyes he fell into a fitful sleep.
He was in the dark, windowless corridor he knew led to the Department of Mysteries, following someone up ahead of him, who he recognised as his godfather. He hurried to try and catch up, but the faster he moved the further the man seemed. 'Sirius' he yelled ' Sirius, wait up, Sirius!' Why wasn't the man listening?
The man had reached the door, began to open it.
'No, Sirius' Harry practically screamed, ' No, no, SIRIUS!' He reached the door as his godfather stepped into the room on the other side, he tried desperately to run after him, but all of a sudden he couldn't move. 'Please don't go, Sirius' he begged 'they'll kill y-.' Harry stopped dead as the man turned round, his haunted eyes stared at Harry accusingly, as he turned again and started to walk towards the middle of the room where the raised dais stood with the peculiar archway in the middle, and climbed onto it. All of a sudden the room flashed with a brilliant green, Harry knew only one spell that created a colour like that… He heard the insane laughter behind him, as he watched the lifeless copse of the man he had come to love fall gracefully through the veil, which was directly behind him. 'No' he whispered…
Harry bolted up right, trembling, covered in sweatand breathing hard. The nightmare was not new; it was one of the many variations of the ministry fiasco he often relived, though they always ended with Sirius dying.
Sighing in an effort to normalise his oxygen intake, he glanced at his watch, and seeing as it was only one in the morning, lay down and tried to go back to sleep.
'Get up, Potter'
Harry gritted his teeth, pushing himself off the floor for the fourth time that evening. He was trying to keep the wall up round his mind but every time he couldn't maintain it and could only just get the Potions Master out. And it was reasonably clear from Snape's snide comments that the man wasn't trying his hardest. He resumed his place in front of the desk opposite Snape, grimacing at the scowl on the man's face, hoping that he wouldn't be punished for his dismal performance. He quickly resurrected his mental barrier as Snape raised his wand arm, feeling nervous and then trying to push the emotion away. The older wizard had pushed just a little further into his mind on every attempt that evening and henceforth a little closer to the memories he wanted to hide.
'Legilimens'
He tried franticly to hold up against the spell as it hit him, but he could feel the wall crumbling, albeit slowly. He pushed harder against the intrusive magic, but so did his professor and finally, broke through.
He was holding a bloody diary in his hand, Ginny's near lifeless body crumpled on the floor; Hermione laying prone on an infirmary bed; in third year the screams of his dead parents in his ears; Sirius' body falling just after being hit with the death curse…
…..
Snape relented as the image of Black dying flashed in his mind, he did not hate the child in front of him so much that he would to be so overly cruel, those were obviously distressing memories. Though he had wanted to find the memories on which the boy had unknowingly accomplished occlumency last week. Potter was slowly standing, refusing to meet his gaze, visibly shaken by being forced to relive Black's death. He gave the boy a moment or two to recover his wits, though he could see that the child was feeling the strain of fending off his attacks.
'Again.' He said, not quite as menacingly as before.
They moved into position, and once again Snape spoke the incantation, making it a bit stronger, wanting to find out the stigma surrounding the student before him. He felt the now familiar jolt of coming against the barrier protecting the mind behind it, but was surprised at how easily he overcome it considering the fight Potter had put up last time.
Being surrounded by Dementors, hopelessly trying to conjure a Patronous; hiding behind racks of spherical orbs, breathing hard; Wormtail slashing a knife into the crook of his arm, collecting the blood; enclosed in darkness, pain, fear…
…..
Harry cried out in effort as he pushed Snape from his mind before he got to see the particulars of that memory. Whether it was seeing Sirius' death again or the overall strain or the constant dull ache of his body (the potion was wearing off) or a mixture of everything, he was losing the focus needed for this lesson. Calming his breathing, he looked resolutely at the floor, praying that Snape hadn't noticed his last recollection but finding very little hope in the idea. The man was far too perceptive for that.
The silence lengthened uncomfortably, and he looked up to find his professor giving him a strange calculating look that he didn't like at all.
'Show me your arms, Potter.' The man was not requesting, it was a command.
Uncertainly and with increasing dread, Harry lifted the limbs in question.
'Arms not sleeves.' He could hear the bite of impatience in the voice. Quickly he did as he was told pushing his robe sleeve, as well as the clothing beneath up just past his elbow and presenting them, but he was not prepared for the Potions Masters' cold hands wrapping around his wrists. Fear caused him to step back, tugging back with his arms, but quickly stopped as he realised that wasn't exactly normal behaviour.
Snape raised an eyebrow at his reaction.
…..
Severus sighed inwardly, he knew his first impressions had been correct, even if he hadn't wanted to believe it. Now he was going to have to deal with it. Damn. However, first things first, he wanted to check Potter was not causing himself harm.
His grip never wavered as the boy tried to withdraw from him, calmly he raised his eyebrow at the reaction, before focusing down on the bare wrists now firmly in his grasp. Surprisingly, there weren't any blemishes on the skin, none at all, not even a scratch. He moved his thumb against the skin, trying to determine if there was some sort of concealment hiding anything. Not finding any he gave the other arm, a quick glance, something nagging at the back of his mind. Releasing the limbs, he looked down to see the smallest droplet of blood clinging to his finger. Curious he decided to further the investigation.
'Take off your shirt.'
'What s-sir?' the child asked with disbelief.
'Take off your shirt.'
'I-I'd rather not, sir.'
He gave the boy a look that really didn't brook any argument, and repeated his 'request' in a steady, much more ominous voice.
…..
Harry pulled of his robe cautiously, he was wearing a T-shirt under it, though it looked like a long-sleeve top as it was so big, and baggy jeans. He proceeded to pull off his shirt, careful not to wince or cause more pain to his aching ribs. He gave the man a look of defiance, though inwardly he cringed. He felt terribly self-conscious, standing in front of the dreaded Potions Master wearing nothing more than his jeans and the stone around his neck, though he tried not to show it. Colour flooded his cheeks as the man proceeded to inspect, raking his eyes over his exposed back and mid-section.
His hand felt unconsciously for the stone, as long as he had it, it was OK.
…..
Snape couldn't understand it; this wasn't what he was expecting. Potter was bleeding somewhere but he couldn't see any cuts, scrapes, scars or anything to that extent which in itself was unusual. Instead of solving the boy's mystery he was getting more muddled by it and he didn't like it.
With one more look at the child's arm which was currently holding the peculiar rock that hang round his neck, he was about to tell him to dress and leave when something clicked. What was confusing him was the lack of scars the boy should have had, other than the lighting bolt one on his forehead. Suddenly it hit him.
'Which arm did Pettigrew use to draw blood, Potter?' His voice dangerously smooth.
'Right si-…' The child looked down and realising the implications, bolted for the door.
…..
Harry turned, running for door, he would have to deal with everything later and right now he had to get out. A hand caught his arm and jerked back, causing him to lose his balance and fall back, right into his professor. He tried desperately to loosen the man's grip on his arm, as Snape's other arm clamped over his free one and across his chest. He fought franticly; he couldn't let it happen again, not here, not at Hogwarts, he thought he was safe here…
'Stop it.' Said a harsh voice from behind.
Oh no please…
…..
The boy's body went limp immediately, leaving Severus to hold up his weight, though it wasn't hard considering how much smaller the boy was compared to his peers. The child was trembling so violently he might have been having a seizure.
'Potter, I'm going to let go, do not do that again.'
Slowly he released his grip on the one arm but just as he was bringing his arm back from the boy's chest, his hand brushed the small rock pendent, sending a tingly feeling through him.
So that was how Potter was doing it. Simple really.
'Pray tell, Potter, why are you wearing an amulet?'