Chapter Ten – Déjà vu
By the time October arrived, Harry was feeling as if he was reliving last year all over again. The only time he was able to get a good night's sleep was on the nights that he was allowed to take a dreamless sleep potion. Because every time he tried to sleep without the potion, he would be plagued with nightmares of a giant snake towering over him, his brother, and the motionless body of someone that he could never remember, along with flashes of a bathroom and a sink. Harry would always wake up gasping for air, as if he had been starved of air, before having to empty the contents of his stomach on the floor of his dorm.
And every night, after waking from his nightmares, Harry would shakily make his way down the tower to the Ravenclaw Library, find the desk farthest from any doors or windows, and draw whatever scene from his nightmare that had taken residency in his mind. Afterwards, he would grab a random book and read it until Luna came and sat with him until he finished reading. Once he had finished reading, Luna would gently take him by the hand and lead him to the Great Hall and gently force him to sit next to her, where he had taken to leaning against her as he nibbled on whatever Luna placed on his plate to eat that morning.
Harry, tired and very irritable, found himself sitting in a hidden alcove, out of sight from anyone walking by as he tried to get some rest before going to his biweekly meeting with Severus and Professor Flitwick. Harry sighed and opened his eyes when the corridor grew unnaturally cold, a clear sign that a ghost was near. Harry turned his head and caught sight of Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor Ghost, floating down the corridor muttering about something that (in Harry's state of mind) he didn't really care to hear about. Harry shifted, pulling his cloak tighter around him, and went back to trying to rest, only to have his eyes snap back open with a silent growl when he heard his brother's voice outside his hidden alcove.
"Hello, Nick." Haiden said and Harry wished that they would have this conversation elsewhere and let him rest.
"Hello, hello." Nearly Headless Nick said, sounding stunned. "You look troubled, young Haiden."
"So do you." Haiden said.
"Ah," Nearly Headless Nick said awkwardly, "a matter of no importance…It's not as though I really wanted to join…Thought I'd apply, but apparently I 'don't fulfill the requirements'–" It was clear to Harry that they weren't leaving until the two of them had finished their conversation, so, Harry shifted to be able to watch them. If they weren't going to leave him in peace, then he would eavesdrop in their conversation. Haiden was drenched and covered with mud. And in spite of Nearly Headless Nick's airy tone, there was a look of great bitterness on his face.
"But you would think, wouldn't you," Nick erupted suddenly, pulling a letter out of his pocket, "that getting hit forty-five times in the neck with a blunt axe would qualify you to join the Headless Hunt?"
"Oh – yes." Haiden said, sounding and looking very uncomfortable.
"I mean, nobody wishes more than I do that it had all been quick and clean, and my head had come off properly, I mean, it would have saved me a great deal of pain and ridicule. However–" Nearly Headless Nick shook his letter open and read furiously:
'We can only accept huntsmen whose heads have parted completely with their bodies, you will appreciate that it would be impossible otherwise for members to participate in hunt activities such as Horseback Head-Juggling and Head Polo. It is with the greatest regret, therefore that I must inform you that you do not fulfill our requirements. With very best wishes, Sir Patrick Delaney-Podmore.'
"Half an inch of skin and sinew holding my neck on, Haiden!" Nearly Headless Nick fumed as he stuffed the letter away. "Most people would think that's good and beheaded, but oh, no it's not enough for Sir Properly Decapitated-Podmore." He took several deep breaths and then said, in a far calmer tone, "So – what's bothering you? Anything I can do?"
"No," Haiden said glaring off to the side. "Not unless you know where we can get seven free Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones for our match against Sly–" The rest of Haiden's sentence was drowned out by a high-pitched mewling from somewhere near the ground. Harry didn't have to look down to know that it had been Mrs. Norris, the skeletal grey cat who was used by the Caretaker, Argus Filch, as a sort of deputy in his endless battle against students. He had heard that annoying mewl enough to just know Mrs. Norris by sound.
"You'd better get out of here, Haiden." Nick told Haiden quickly. "Filch isn't in a good mood – he's got the flu and some third years accidentally plastered frog brains all over the ceiling in dungeon five. He's been cleaning all morning, and if he sees you dripping mud all over the place–"
"Right." Haiden said, backing away from the accusing stare of Mrs. Norris; however, he wasn't quick enough. Drawn to the spot by the mysterious power that seemed to connect him with his fowl cat, Argus Filch burst suddenly through a tapestry to the right of the alcove Harry was hiding in (Harry sucked in a breath, fearful that Filch would hear him), wheezing and looking wildly about for the rule-breaker. There was a thick tartan scarf bound around his head, and his nose was unusually purple. Harry flinched and tried to hide as best as he could when Filch's eyes landed on him before flying over to his brother, and Harry knew he had been seen. He tried to bolt from the alcove; however, his tired body refused to listen to him, and he was roughly grabbed and pulled from the alcove by Filch, shocking both Haiden and Nearly Headless Neck.
"Filth!" Filch shouted, his jowls aquiver, his eyes popping alarmingly as he pointed at the muddy puddle that had dripped from Haiden's Quidditch robes. "Mess and muck everywhere! I've had enough of it, I tell you! You two are coming with me!"
"I didn't do anything!" Harry cried angrily as he was drug along, fighting and trying to pull his arm free, as his brother just followed behind them (glaring at him) doubling the number of muddy footprints on the floor. If Harry had to dislocate his arm to get away from Filch, then he damn well would! "I didn't dirty the floor! Look at me! I'm clean!" He was seriously considering chewing off his arm!
Harry had never been inside of Filch's office before; it was a place most students tried to avoid at all times, especially the Weasley Twins. The room was dingy and windowless, lit by a single oil lamp dangling from the low ceiling. A faint smell of fried fish lingered about the place. Wooden filing cabinets stood around the walls; from their labels, Harry could see that they contained details of every pupil Filch had ever punished. Fred and George had an entire drawer to themselves. A highly polished collection of chains and manacles hung on the wall behind Filch's desk. It was common knowledge that he was always begging Dumbledore to let him suspend students by their ankles from the ceiling.
Filch threw Harry into the room causing him to stumble and knock into a wooden chair that was by the door. Harry glared at Filch as the man grabbed a quill from a pot on his desk and began shuffling around looking for parchment. "Dung," he muttered furiously, "great sizzling dragon bogies…frog brains…rat intestines…I've had enough of it…make an example…where's the forms… yes…" Filch retrieved two large rolls of parchment from his desk drawer and stretched one out in front of him, dipping his long black quill into the ink pot.
"Name… Harry Potter. Crime…"
"I didn't do anything!" Harry yelled in anger shocking Haiden, his magic rising off him causing the hanging chains to rattle, and Mrs. Norris began to growl.
"That's exactly right, boy! You did nothing but watch as your brother defiled this castle!" Filch yelled back, slamming the quill down on the desk.
"Defiled?!" Haiden yelled in shock. "It was only a bit of mud!"
"It's only a bit of mud to you, boy, but to me it's an hour of scrubbing!" Filch shouted at Haiden.
"BECAUSE THAT'S YOUR JOB!" Harry roared, his magic rising even more so that his hair was now floating around him causing everything in the room to shake dangerously. But no one seemed to notice as Harry and his brother stared Filch down.
"Crime…" Filch growled out, grabbing his quill, and dipping it into the ink pot once more. "aiding in the befouling the castle… suggested sentence…" Dabbing at his streaming nose, Filch squinted unpleasantly at Harry, who was glaring at him almost daring him to write something else on the parchment. His body was tense, ready to launch himself over the desk at the man. The tension was broken (Harry jumped in shock and a chain fell from the ceiling dangerously close to Filch) by a great BANG on the ceiling of the office, which made the oil lamp rattle.
"PEEVES!" Filch roared, flinging down his quill in a transport of rage. "I'll have you this time, I'll have you!" And, without a backward glance at the twins, Filch ran flat-footed from the office, Mrs. Norris streaking alongside him.
Peeves was the school poltergeist, a grinning, airborne menace who lived to cause havoc and distress. Harry didn't much like Peeves but couldn't help feeling grateful for his timing. Hopefully, whatever Peeves had done (and it sounded as though he'd wrecked something very big this time) would distract Filch from him and his brother.
Harry stole a glance at his brother, who was focusing on something on the desk, and flopped into a moth-eaten chair next to the desk, wincing when he hit the newly formed bruise on his hip from being thrown into a chair. Harry glanced at the desk and saw the parchment with his name on it. He shifted in the chair, wondering if he had time to either tear up that parchment or stuff it in his cloak to destroy it later. Harry quickly reached out and snatched the parchment off the desk and shoved it into his cloak, before locking eyes with his shocked brother, daring him to say something about what he had just done. Haiden just looked back at the desk and Harry settled into the chair.
A voice in the back of his mind whispered that if he hurried, he could slip out of the office and leave his brother there alone to face his rightful punishment. Harry hadn't done anything wrong, that it was Haiden that had dripped mud in the corridor. All he had tried to do was rest in that alcove before his meeting. Why should Harry have to be punished because Haiden and Nearly Headless Nick had decided to talk right in front of his alcove?
Harry sighed and crossed his arms, he had already stolen the parchment, no need to make it obvious that he took something by disappearing. Movement by the desk caught his attention and he saw that Haiden had a letter in his hand. "It's rude to read other people's letter's without permission."
"It's rude to eavesdrop on someone's private conversation." Haiden snapped back.
"It's not a private conversation when you're having it right in front of someone who was there first." Harry told him with a growl causing Haiden to glare at him.
"Well, if you hadn't been hiding there then we wouldn't have had our conversation in front of you!"
"Who said I was hiding?" Harry asked and Haiden floundered for a second.
"If you weren't hiding, then what were you doing there?" Haiden asked, looking back at the letter as if he was bored with the conversation, and to be honest Harry wouldn't have been surprised if he was.
"If you must know, I was trying to get some rest away from everyone else." Harry told him softly.
"Why?" Haiden asked, trying to sound as if he wasn't interested or concerned about what Harry was saying.
"You may not have noticed, but I haven't been sleeping well. And I don't know if you remember, but the last time this happened I lost control of my magic." Harry told him, watching as Haiden tossed the letter back onto Filch's desk and turned to look at him.
"Why?" Haiden asked, leaned against the desk eyes roaming the room, however Harry noticed that Haiden never once looked over to where he was sitting.
"Why what?" Harry asked in annoyance, he wasn't a mind reader, and he couldn't know what his brother was asking with that one word.
"Why haven't you been sleeping well?" Haiden asked. Harry watched Haiden with a guarded stare, trying to see if Haiden really cared to know or if he was just trying to waste time until Filch came back.
"Why do you even want to know. It's not like you actually care, I mean, you didn't last year." Harry told him, letting his brother know that he hadn't forgotten the fact the Haiden never once visited him while he was in the Hospital Wing when he lost control of his magic last year.
"Last time I never realized how dangerous it was for someone to lose control of their magic, especially for someone as young as us. Even after it had been explained to me, I didn't want to accept that you might lose your magic or even die. I didn't want to think about my baby brother dying, so I denied everything that was happening. I denied the fact that you were in the Hospital Wing fighting for your life. That's why I never came to see you, even when everyone was trying to convince me to go see you. Hell, even Malfoy tried to knock some sense into me." Haiden admitted, looking ashamed. Harry refused to allow the words Haiden was saying to blind him from everything that the boy wasn't saying.
"What changed?" Harry asked, his eyes narrowing. He knew that his brother was stubborn, once Haiden had something in his mind, it was nearly impossible to change it without something drastic happening. Haiden looked back towards the desk, shuffled some of the parchment and muttered something that Harry couldn't hear before trying to cover his embarrassment with a cough. "What was that?"
"Professor Lockhart sat me down and forced me to autograph his pictures while he prattled on about fame or something or other as detention for me." Haiden repeated louder while rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. Harry had to pause and replay those words in his mind, trying to find the drastic event that caused Haiden's mind to change. But he couldn't. Something else must have happened that Haiden wasn't telling him.
"And how did that have anything to do with you not visiting me in the Hospital Wing?" Harry asked. Haiden coughed in embarrassment once again.
"For me to be able to block that annoying man out, I had to escape into my mind and think. And trust me when I say that I was wrong to not visit you. What if you had actually died? What if I was never able to see you, talk to you, or spend time with you again. What if–" Haiden stopped himself with a gulp, and right then everything Haiden wasn't saying was louder than the crash that had Filch running out of the room. Harry looked down at the floor, fighting back his tears, his brother didn't deserve his tears. Once he was sure his tears were hidden for later, Harry glared up at his brother.
"What if your wish for me to be dead actually came true?" Harry finished for him, and Haiden froze, alerting Harry that he had said what Haiden had stopped himself from saying. His brother wasn't acting this way because he genuinely felt bad or cared for Harry, Haiden just didn't want to get blamed. The silence that followed was loud and said more than either boy could, or would, say.
"You know that I truly am sorry for saying that, right? You know I regret saying that to you, right? And you know that I really do love you, right?" Haiden asked. Harry had to take a second to keep him from saying what he truly felt, knowing that speaking in anger made someone say things that were never meant to be said, even if you believed it in that moment.
"Yeah," Harry finally said, and he saw Haiden release as breath of relief, "I know you love me." They fell silent again moments before Filch came back, looking triumphant.
"That vanishing cabinet was extremely valuable." Filch told Mrs. Norris gleefully. "We'll have Peeves out this time, my sweet–" He paused as his eyes caught Haiden leaning against his desk, his eyes then flew to the desk behind Haiden, to the letter on the desk. Filch's face went brick red and he hobbled over to the desk and picked up the letter Haiden had been reading. Harry and Haiden locked eyes as Filch threw the letter into a drawer. "Have you – Did you read–?"
"No." Harry said quickly and truthfully, he wasn't going to be blamed for something he didn't do again.
"No." Haiden lied easily. Filch's started twisting his knobbly hands.
"If I thought you'd read my private – not that it's mine – it's for a friend – be that as it may – however–" Harry had never seen Filch so mad before. His eyes were popping, a tic was going in one of his pouch cheeks, and the tartan scarf didn't help. Would he take his anger out on them? Would they be able to get out of this room without punishment? Would Filch hang him and his brother by their toes? "Very well – go – and don't breath a word – not that – however, if you didn't read – go now, I have to write up Peeves' report – go!"
Harry didn't need to be told twice, he shot out of that chair and was out the door before Filch had even finished. To escape Filch's office without punishment had to be a school record, Fred and George would love to hear about this and he had the parchment with his name on it in Filch's handwriting to prove it. Harry turned a corner and had to slide to a stop in shock as he went through a ghost. He turned to apologize because it was very rude to walk through (or in this case rung through) a ghost.
"I'm sorry, Nearly Headless Nick." Harry panted out.
"Did it work?" Nick asked.
"Did what work?" Harry asked.
"I convinced Peeves to drop the cabinet above Filch's office. Thought it might distract him." Nick explained.
"That was you?" Haiden asked from the other side of Nick.
"Oh, yeah, it worked. We didn't get detention." Harry said quickly, refusing to look at his brother. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude, but I'm late for a meeting." He turned and bolted down the corridor as his tears finally broke free.