I'll See You When I Fall Asleep
I do not own Harry Potter or any of the related characters. The Harry Potter series is created by JK Rowling and owned by Warner Bros. This fanfiction is intended for entertainment only. I am not making any profit from this story. All rights of the original Harry Potter story belong to Warner Bros. Any names used are a nod to the respective authors I admire so much.
Beta'd by No one yet, any and all errors in grammar, spelling and plot are mine.
Chapter Seven: Of PTSD, Therapy and Oracles
7th of September
Professor Sprout's shadow loomed over Harry and Ron's table like a worried mother dragon. They were doing a poor job of pruning the roots of the Shrivelfig, the process of digging up, measuring, pruning, and reburying. The lengths were uneven, the reburying was spotty and the Shrivelfig itself was disturbed and antsy. Its barbs were emerging from its bark and the Professor had her wand in hand.
"Mr Weasley, Mr Potter, put down your shears and step back from the table, no sudden noise please."
Harry had been aware enough to see the spikes but Ron was still tugging on a recalcitrant root and had his head too close to a prehensile Fig leaf as it wafted in the air. Harry's chair screeched as he pushed himself backwards and all the Shrivelfigs in the room winced and contracted. No one had been caught by the dangerous appendages, no one except Ron. As the redhead had been inspecting underneath a root at the time his head had been close to the table and turned to the side. A whipping leaf slapped onto his forehead, temple and the top of his ear and snapped off the main body with a dry crisp sound which was very loud in the studious silence of the herbology classroom.
Everyone froze, all the students, the professor, all the Shrivelfig and all the portraits on the wall. No one moved for three or four seconds then Ron collapsed into the tray of soil on his desk, face first. Professor Sprout shot Harry an inscrutable look and burst into motion. She barked orders, cast spells and rounded the table to stand beside Ron's chair. The Shivelfigs all froze and shrunk in on themselves until their movement all but stopped.
"Everybody, stand back from your Shrivelfig, Calagenta! impedimenta! Aegritudo! Mr Potter, get him out of the soil! Portraits! Inform Madam Pomfrey I will be bringing her a case of Shrivelfig venom, and that it is to the head. Sir Calimitus please inform Professor McGonagall. Mr Potter, Harry, slowly."
Harry had jolted into motion and snatched at Ron's unresponsive shoulder, on her calmer instruction he eased him up to sit back in his chair. Soil clung to his face and blocked his nostrils and would have been funny in other circumstances. Another wand wave and his airways cleared and the bulk of the dirt vanished to leave patches of dark skin.
"Class dismissed, Miss Granger, please accompany Mr Potter and myself."
Ron hovered by the door with Harry humping two bookbags just behind him, a worried, guilty look on his face. Hermione pushed through the students after him and the Professor preceded her young charges out into the corridor. She paused long enough to confirm the classroom was empty, locked the door then hurried the three students towards the hospital wing.
"Madam- Professor, I'm sorry."
"I'm sure you are Mr Potter, it's my fault as much as yours, I could tell you were distracted and Mr Weasley was struggling. I was a few seconds too late."
Harry swallowed and glanced at Hermione as they tramped up a flight of stairs then paused as the next set of stairs refused to move towards them, the professor cleared her throat threateningly and it swung across the gap and their procession continued. The hospital wing doors were wide open and a resolute but worried Madam Pomfrey stood in the centre of the hospital wing, arms crossed, wand in hand.
"Shrivelfig Pomona?"
Professor Sprout huffed out a sigh as she bustled between the rows of beds and nodded confirmation.
"I would have placed him under a stasis charm but I know how tricky it can be."
"No, quite right. Not needed I don't think. Well Mr Potter, a turn out for the books. It's not too often you grace my ward with your presence under your own power."
Harry gaped at her then rolled his eyes in mock irritation as Hermione suppressed a snort.
"On the bed with him. Oh the poor dear, those spines are good and deep."
Harry and Hermione stood awkwardly for a few seconds before Hermione tugged at Harry's sleeve to get his attention and moved to sit on visitor chairs that formed a row against the far wall. Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore opened the hospital wing door quietly a few minutes later and they sat in chairs on either side of the worried students so everyone was watching the veteran medi-witch work.
"What happened Harry?"
Harry glanced up at the kind smile that was hidden by the long flowing beard and twitched a sad smile of his own.
"My fault Professor, I've not been sleeping well and I was distracted while we were pruning a Shrivelfig. Professor Sprout told us to back off and I did but Ron didn't hear her, she said no noise but I pushed my chair back and it squeaked."
Professor Dumbledore nodded then winced. "He must have been very close to get a face full of spikes. He's in good hands though Harry, the best."
"Yes sir."
"Albus, we will still have to inform Arthur and Molly."
Albus stared at the unresponsive Ron then nodded slowly. "Can you Minerva?"
The Gryffindor head of house nodded, patted Harry's arm then rose and left the hospital wing. Professor Dumbledore sat and made small talk with Hermione and the monosyllabic Harry as they listened to madam Pomfrey and Professor Sprout discuss Ron's treatment. Shortly after she left, Professor Dumbledore rose, offered a few words of comfort that Harry didn't hear, then approached the bed to consult with the Healer.
Harry swallowed and chewed his lip for a second before he turned his pale face to look at Hermione. He turned to Hermione, whose face was a mask of concern.
"He's going to be okay, right?" he whispered.
Hermione nodded, though her eyes were fixed on Ron's pale face.
"Madam Pomfrey will take care of him."
The door creaked open again, and Arthur and Molly Weasley rushed in. Molly's face crumpled at the sight of her son, but she quickly composed herself.
"My boy..." she breathed, running a trembling hand over Ron's hair.
Arthur, usually composed, seemed to age ten years in an instant. He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, but his eyes were red-rimmed and filled with worry.
"How is he, Pomona?"
Professor Sprout stepped aside to let Madam Pomfrey answer.
"The Shrivelfig's venom is potent, but not lethal. He's in good hands. He'll need rest and several phased treatments, but I am confident that he will recover quickly. Young Mr Weasley is healthy and isn't the first that I have had to treat for this affliction."
Harry quietly let out a breath and looked very relieved. He exchanged a loaded look with Hermione who was sat quietly next to him and took his hand. Harry's shoulders were still bowed at the weight of his mistake but he managed to hold his head up to meet Mr Weasley's gaze. He swallowed as the Weasley patriarch approached and sank into the chair the headmaster had vacated, Harry leant forward and buried his face in his hands.
"It's my fault," Harry mumbled, his voice cracking, tears welled as the emotion tore at his throat. "If I hadn't been so careless..."
Professor Dumbledore's gentle voice broke through his thoughts. "Harry, sometimes even the best of us falter. It's how we rise again that matters."
Harry nodded, a tense determination shone in his posture. "I'll make sure to be more careful."
Madam Pomfrey glanced up. "You can stay with him for a while. He'll need familiar faces when he wakes."
As the Weasleys gathered around Ron, Harry and Hermione found places to stand close by. Harry's hands shook slightly, and he clenched them into fists to steady himself. Hermione slid a comforting hand around his waist then rested her head on his shoulder.
"Ron will be fine. He won't hold it against you."
Harry nodded, though he wasn't entirely convinced. He watched as Molly gently dabbed at Ron's face with a damp cloth, her tears tracing silent tracks down her cheeks.
The Weasley family grew as Ginny, Fred and George filtered into the hospital wing, the twins paused either side of Harry and placed a comforting hand on each of Harry's shoulders. The scared look on Ginny's face proved too much for Harry and he pulled away from Hermione and walked quickly for the door.
Hermione caught up to him as he mounted the first step of the staircase around the corner and he paused at her voice.
"Harry, wait."
Harry didn't turn around, he didn't even turn his head.
"I- I can't Hermione, he will blame me, and for good reason I was distracted but it's going to really annoy me because he should have listened, he should have backed off and if he had he wouldn't have gotten a face full of spikes. I need to go, let me know when he's awake and I'll come back."
Hermione's silence confirmed that her thoughts echoed his sentiment, she hugged him from behind and put all her strength into it then ran back to the hospital wing, the slap of her school shoes echoed off the walls and Harry resumed his trek, but slower and more measured than before.
Harry's hands clenched into fists repeatedly as he climbed and traversed corridors, the stress across his forehead and tension in his shoulders caused his movements to be stiff and rapid and he was less than half way to Gryffindor tower when he broke into a run.
"Rotund Pears!"
He shouted the password as he entered the seventh floor corridor and the portrait of the fat lady swung open without a word as he steam towards it barely broke stride as he barreled through. It was by pure luck rather than skill or good judgement that his route to the boys dormitory staircase was clear and unimpeded because he didn't slow down. He took the stairs three at a time, and threw the door to the fourth year dorm open wide, there were several shouts of surprise but Harry paid them no mind as he made a beeline to his bed, snatched his broom from the little two-broom rack by his trunk span and was out the door before Neville or Seamus could say much of anything.
At the bottom of the stairwell Harry slipped by several bodies and made for the nearest window as it banged open at a flick of his wand. Most of the students were staring at him open mouthed and the rest joined after the sudden draft dropped the temperature by ten or so degrees.
He ignored the gasps and startled screams as he hopped onto the sill with both feet like a bird then launched himself out into thin air.
Harry luxuriated in the feel of free fall for a long second then the broom's charms activated as he swung it between his legs and leant forward.
The smile that was plastered across his face spoke of a love of flying, of open spaces and the freedom to soar. It was a definite counterpoint to the emotions he had been feeling over the last few hours.
Harry saw several white gaping faces from windows and his scream was primal and savage. He could feel Professor McGonagall grit her teeth.
——Scene Break——
For the better part of an hour Harry swooped, dove, rolled, banked, pivoted and swivelled. He was seeking solace in the open sky above the Quidditch pitch, it was the only thing he could control at the moment. The cold night air nipped at his skin, but the rhythmic thrum of his heartbeat filled him with a sense of calm. With each loop and dive, he felt his worries ease, if only for a moment. Harry executed a series of complex maneuvers with ease, feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline as the wind whipped through his hair. The stars above twinkled like diamonds on a velvet canvas, and the moon cast a silvery glow over the pitch.
He pushed himself harder, the broom responding to his every command with precision. Harry decided to attempt another Wronski Feint—a risky move he hadn't practiced in months, the first one had been wobbly and he wanted perfection. Unfortunately his grip faltered mid-dive, and the ground rushed up to meet him. With a bone-jarring thud, he crashed onto the pitch. The pain was immediate and sharp, but it was the scream from the stands that made him wince harder.
Someone had seen his fall.
It took a long minute but Daphne came hurrying down the bleachers as Harry rolled to a sitting position, her face a mask of panic. Her footsteps echoed in the night as she reached him, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
"Harry!"
She cried and threw herself at him, her tears mingling with the dirt on his robes, he grunted and flopped onto his back again and her voice became muffled.
"You idiot! What were you thinking?"
Harry tried to smile as she crawled off him and he groaned into a sitting position again and winced at the pain in his ribs.
"Just needed to clear my head."
Daphne's panic shifted to anger as she pulled back, her eyes blazing.
"Clear your head? You could have died!"
Her voice wavered, as she dissolved into sobs and she hugged him again, her fists weakly bunching the fabric of his robes. The moonlight highlighted the tear tracks on her cheeks, and her hands trembled as she clung to him. Harry, his face dropped in shame and he gently took her hands.
"I'm sorry, Daphne. Really."
Daphne took a shaky breath, as her tears subsided.
"It's not just about your reckless flying. I'm struggling with everything too... everything we've done, everything we're facing. We both need help."
Harry nodded solemnly, his eyes reflecting the weight of their shared burdens.
"You're right. Let's go find Professor Babbling. Maybe she can give us some advice."
He tried to rise then accepted her hand as he realised that she had regained her feet much easier. With a chuckle she squeezed his hand, adjusted her grip and tugged him towards the castle. Together they walked off the pitch, and Daphne clutched his arm tightly, seeking comfort in his presence. She looked down at his limping leg and reached up to brush grass out of his hair.
"Are you alright?"
"Yes, I bounced. Plus the cushioning runes are active. I felt them slow me down as I hit. I'll ache tomorrow but nothing is broken."
The walk back was silent but for the occasional sniffle from Daphne. The castle loomed ahead, its grand entrance hall bathed in a soft glow from the torches that lined the walls. As they stepped into the hall, they paused, unsure of how to handle the curious stares from the few students who lingered there. Harry twisted his mouth to the side then whispered to Daphne.
"We need to decide what to tell them if they ask why we're together."
Daphne nodded, her grip on his arm tightening. "We'll just say we're working on a project. Something private. I'm helping you with potions."
Their half baked plan was not tested as the route to Professor Babbling's office was uninhabited. The corridors were quiet, the only sound was their footsteps echoing on the stone floor. Sheba opened the door to their knock and just stepped aside as she took in their pale, drawn faces. Her voice was gentle yet firm as she gestured them to sit on her sofa.
"What's happened?"
Harry and Daphne took turns explaining everything that had transpired in Illyria over the past week, then Harry told her about the Shrivelfig incident. Sheba listened intently, her expression growing more troubled with each passing moment. Her fingers tapped rhythmically on the table she sat at was a counterpoint to the merrily crackling fire. When they finished, Sheba sighed heavily, her shoulders sagged slightly then she rose to pace.
"You're both subject to a quest. At least one, and it rarely ends well for the children of prophecy. I actually think you're doing well. But it will get worse and more dangerous before it gets better. It took me and Sirius too long to realise that we should be using the boring normal life here as a break in the madness of quest after quest. There was a time when I looked forward to a Sunday lie-in."
Harry leaned his head back on the sofa, feeling the weight of the prophecy pressing down on him. Daphne took his hand and pulled his arm around her waist, leaning into his side. The warmth of her body against his relaxed his body and smoothed the stress lines on his face.
"We haven't even gotten to Redfast yet," Harry muttered, his voice tinged with fatigue and frustration.
Sheba nodded sympathetically. "I know, and it's going to be difficult. But you're not alone. You have each other, and you have allies here. Focus on the clues you've uncovered about the quests and the missing people. Use the time you have wisely, and remember to find moments of peace as best as you can. I'll help and so will Sirius if, when we find him."
The room fell into a contemplative silence, the weight of their responsibilities hanging heavy in the air. The fire in the hearth crackled softly, casting dancing shadows on the walls. A small smile drifted across his face. They weren't alone in this fight, and with determination and support, they could face whatever challenges lay ahead.
——Scene Break——
8th of September
Sirius Black trudged through the snow-laden paths of a remote Estonian mountain village, his breath visible in the frigid air. Each step was a struggle, his emaciated body protesting against the harsh journey. He had recovered some since his escape but he still wasn't anywhere near full fitness. The clothes he had traveled in were more London specific and offered little protection against the biting cold. The village was a scatter of wooden huts, their rooftops thick with snow, and the towering peaks of the surrounding mountains cast long shadows in the late afternoon light.
After long days of travel, his destination was finally in sight. He approached a small, weather-beaten yurt at the edge of the village. The poorly made wooden door creaked on its rusty pin hinges as he pushed it open. A gust of wind howled past him, rattling the glasses on the rough-hewn table and ruffling several sets of threadbare curtains. Inside, the room was dimly lit by a flickering fire in the hearth, and the air smelled of herbs and aged wood.
Sirius coughed.
An old woman jolted awake from her slumped position in a worn battered chair, her eyes squinting as she peered around myopically for the disturbance. She had a shawl wrapped around her shoulders, massive and tattered, that covered her from her thinning black hair to her fur-lined boots. Her skin was as wrinkled as old parchment, yet her eyes were a clear, bright blue, filled with an unsettling intelligence.
"Greetings, traveler," she rasped, her voice a gravelly whisper that seemed to echo in the small space.
Sirius stopped, one foot raised as he had been about to cross the threshold. He continued the motion and pulled the door closed behind him, the cold wind dying down. He croaked but managed to grate out his question, it has been a while since he had had to speak to anyone.
"Hi, erm, how did you know?"
"Your energy is from Illyria. I know there are fifteen travelers living in both worlds, and I know who told you about me, why he told you, and why you are here."
Sirius lowered himself onto his haunches, regarding the woman with a mix of curiosity and wariness.
"Why he told you? Why I am here?"
"If you don't know, then I can't help you," the old lady smirked, and Sirius' lips thinned in frustration.
"How do I get out of the realm of the dead?"
"That is almost the right question," she replied, her eyes narrowing. "You don't. You need to be rescued."
Sirius huffed a frustrated sigh, and ran a hand through his hair.
"I need to be rescued. Great, can anyone rescue me, or does it need to be a specific person?"
"Technically anyone, but why would you want anyone when you've got the children of prophecy and your long-lost love?"
He sighed again and grunted.
"I was afraid you would say that. She doesn't want to see me."
"That's because you were stupid and didn't tell her."
"I did."
She gave him the look that every maternal figure throughout time has subjected the men in their lives to, part pity, part scorn.
"Yes, in a letter she didn't read, just as you knew she wouldn't."
Sirius clenched his fists, and ground his teeth.
"What do I tell them so they can rescue me?"
The ancient lady smiles.
"Ah, the right question. You're in the seventy-third tower, floor three hundred, cell two five nine seven."
"I wasn't dead. How did I end up there? I just woke up in that cell."
The old woman picked up an earthenware mug and took a sip, the liquid steaming in the cold air. "A peculiarity that I don't really understand is when a traveler loses themselves so completely here that the magic identifies them as dead they don't wake up where they were, where they expect. You lost so much of yourself when your friends died and the dementors took the rest."
Sirius looked down, a wave of sorrow washing over him. "I- erm, your payment?"
"I may ask a favor at some point in the future, but that isn't payment. These are my worlds too. You are as much key to the prophecies being fulfilled as your godson, you and the wolf also. No charge."
Sirius released a sad sigh and turned to go. He spoke softly over his shoulder and reached a hand out for the latch. "Thank you."
"Tell the werewolf, you can trust him."
Her voice had taken on a lilting quality. It put him in mind of the forest elves.
"I do."
"Tell him of Illyria, you and your godson's place in it."
"I know I can. I didn't see the point in telling him of a place that he cannot visit."
"Tell the werewolf, he can help. He can help Harry."
Sirius froze, the hair on the back of his neck standing up. His hands clenched into fists. "You know Harry?"
"I know all the children of prophecy. There are two alive currently, and they are both in desperate need of help."
"Thank you, ancient one."
"You're very welcome."
Sirius left the yurt, the cold wind biting at his face. The snow crunched under his boots as he made his way back down the path. As the door closed behind him, the old woman sighed deeply.
"You should have asked the price that will be paid for your freedom."
——Scene Break——
The walk back to the nearest wizarding enclave was an arduous four hours through a dense Estonian, bear infested forest. Every so often Sirius would huff and chunter to himself about his lot in life then he shut up and got on with his self assigned task.
"Stupid ICW and their stupid rules, stupid Sirius. You're already an escaped convict. What's one more broken law? And there's Remus with wings and a halo telling me to behave. When did he turn into such a goodie two shoes?"
He cracked the inn door to the taproom that his room was above and resisted the blast of icy air that threatened to slam it into the wall behind. He glanced around and nodded at the few patrons as he approached the bar. The barman nodded and spoke in heavily accented French and pored him a whiskey unbidden.
"Greetings Boris."
Sirius nodded and accepted the chipped tumbler and knocked it back in one. He winced and he strangled out the next few words until his tonsils were revived from certain death, his conversational French was passable enough for his purposes.
"Ivan, do you have quill and parchment for three letters?"
As a pot of ink, quill and sheaf of parchment were slid across the bar Ivan nodded at Sirius again.
"You want owl, I can have boy take to owl house?"
Sirius started to nod then paused.
"Owl house? No thank you, can he show me the way?"
"Of course. For five Kroon."
Sirius inclined his head and took his letter writing utensils and sat at the table in the bay window and sighed at the overcast sky. The light wasn't much improved as it was dusk and he tapped the solitary candle in a wax drenched holder with his wand and watched it flicker to life. The flame from the candle cast shadows on the wall. His hand trembled slightly as he picked up a quill and dipped it into the inkwell. Taking a deep breath, he began to write a letter to his godson.
Dear Harry,
I hope this letter finds you well. I must apologize for my absence; circumstances have taken me far from England, and I find myself in another country. It pains me to be so far from you, but please know that I am doing everything in my power to return to you as soon as possible.
I need you to do something very important. Tell Sheba Babbling that I am in the Realm of the Dead. I need you all to come rescue me. Time is of the essence, but I have faith that she will know what to do.
Stay strong and stay safe, Harry.
Sirius
He rolled the letter into a tube and sealed it with the wax stamp spell and put quill to the next blank sheet again.
Moony
I'm done, home at some point.
No howling at the moon while I'm gone.
He drew a decent attempt at a paw print and chuckled to himself. The next letter was left to last as it was the most difficult.
Sheba,
I love you, I miss you….
15th of September
The usual flood of owls flew their unsanitary route over the Hogwarts breakfast tables and descended to their owners or post recipients. Harry and Ron ducked as Pigwidgeon mistimed his dive and buzzed their heads and thumped into the table. Ron muttered darkly as he scooped the little bird up and vanished butter from her feathers. As Harry was chuckling at his friend's darkening mood, his hair ruffled and Hedwig settled on his shoulder in an arrogant show of flight control. Harry removed the letter from around the preening owl's leg and smiled as it automatically expanded to letter size and he read his own name.
He recognised that handwriting, Harry smirked and slipped the letter into his pocket.
"Not going to open it?"
Harry shook his head, "no Nev, I know who it's from, I'll read it later."
Neville smirked, "Nimbus advert? Are you that loyal to Firebolt?"
Harry's friends all snorted or laughed. "Oh ha, Neville how could you. I loved my Nimbus as you well know."
"So did Ron, didn't you see the stains on it? Hermione taught me the black light spell."
Neville shuddered and everyone within earshot burst into laughter except Neville who had a self satisfied smirk on his face, Harry who had been drinking and was currently coughing up a lung, and Ron and Hermione who exclaimed at the same time.
"Hey!"
Harry smirked at Neville's belly laugh, his friend had come a long way. He soaked up the last of his runny egg with a half a slice of bread, shoved the in his mouth and, cheeks bulging offered a fist bump to Neville then rose. Hermione frowned, she placed her cutlery down and Harry placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Harry?"
"I've got a thing in the library and a letter to read."
Hermione looked up at him confused. "A thing?"
Harry grinned down at her and nodded. "Yup, a thing."
As he walked out of the great hall, he glanced up and caught Daphne had raised an eyebrow, Harry smirked again.
The walk down to the library was completed in peace and quiet, he didn't even hear Peeves in the distance. The library doors were open a jar but as they were as big as the great hall doors students could walk through two abreast. Madam Pince was in her usual spot, she was peering down her long nose through half moon glasses at a book propped up on a jug of water. She was munching on a bagel and humming along to the quiet strains of a Wizarding Wireless. She paused her humming to swallow and noticed Harry's approach.
"Yes young man?"
Harry offered her a quick smile and slid the library book he had been carrying onto the desktop carefully so as not to dislodge her setup and incur her wrath.
"Just to return the book, sorry, I realised last night that I still had it. And to use a study table as well."
Madam Pince harrumphed slid Harry's returned book towards herself possessively, her attention deep in her novel again.
Harry offered a quizzical look towards the top of her head and headed towards the table he and Daphne had used a few times now. The battered and scarred wood of the table seemed to absorb what little light there was in the poorly lit area which was imaginatively named 'The Seventh and Fifteenth Century Goblin Rebellion and Study Area Forty Five,' Daphne had pointed Harry towards it a couple of weeks ago in a cryptic note and he and spent a frustrated hour and a half finding it. She displayed far too much amusement for Harry's liking when he told her the tale of dust and repeated close encounters with a suspicious librarian.
Harry pulled his stashed collections of books from a nearby shelf and idled the time it took Daphne to join him in sorting them out alphabetically then pulled a new animal husbandry book towards him. Well new to him, the dust that accumulated in even a short time was staggering and must keep an army of House Elves busy for hours each day. Daphne bustled from between two shadowy stacks of books and flicked her wand as she arrived at her usual chair. Books flew from the darkness and arranged themselves neatly in rows as she pulled her chair out.
"Morning, what did you say to put Granger in such a foul mood?"
Harry smirked. "Hi, as little as possible, it's so easy to wind her up. She's suspicious of me anyway and has accused me of having a secret girlfriend a few times now."
Daphne paused and regarded him carefully. "Not if you were the last Gryffindor in Illyria."
"I am the last Gryffindor in Illyria."
"There is Sirius…" Daphne trailed off.
"The smell of wet dog does that for you?" Harry smirked.
Daphne laughed out loud and glanced to the side with a wince. "How would I know, I haven't met him in either world."
"You might have your chance, I got a letter from him today."
Daphne's gaze sharpened on him and she leant forward with interest. "And?"
Harry shrugged abashedly, "dunno yet, haven't read it yet."
Daphne watched his every move as he pulled the letter from his robe pocket and angled it to catch the candlelight. His face ran a gamut of emotions which ended in concerned determination, he puffed his cheeks out and huffed a breath and held the letter out for her to take.
"The Realm of the Dead, that sounds difficult."
Daphne accepted the letter and spent a few moments in silence as she read.
"That's quite the formal letter."
Harry shrugged. "We don't actually know each other all that well, I think we've spent a grand total of a couple of hours together. Maybe it's the thought of him that I miss, rather that the man himself."
Daphne quirked an eyebrow at him. "That's quite deep and introspective."
Harry chuckled, "I don't have the emotional range of a teaspoon, I have hidden depths."
The look Daphne offered him was less curious and more derisive. "What?"
"Hermione has accused Ron of not having the emotional range of a teaspoon and we try and mention it a few times a week just to annoy him. Not sure it's working but it amused me."
Daphne flipped a book open, consulted her notepad then turned a few pages more.
"What's your range then? A tureen?"
Harry glanced up from reading about the mating habits of the lesser spotted buzzard.
"What's a tureen?"
Daphne's shoulders shook as she sniggered.
A/N How many people had to google what a tureen was?
—--Scene Break—--
Daphne sighed and leant back from her notepad and threw her arms back as she stretched her back and neck. Her follow up delicate groan attracted Harry's attention and caused him to stop mid pen stroke. Daphne opened her eyes and found him staring at her open-mouthed.
"What?"
Harry coughed slightly, twitched his hand and his quill squirted a spatter of ink onto his notepad. Harry coughed again and cursed quietly and dug in his pocket for his wand.
"Brillant. See one pair of…" Harry faded as he carefully circled his wand tip above the split as he grumbled quietly.
Daphne sat forward and squinted at him. "A pair of what?"
Harry looked up into her intense glare. "Huh? Pair of? Oh erm, eyes. Lovely pair of eyes."
Daphne's mobile eyebrows rose towards her hairline and she turned her attention to the books before her.
"It's after ten, let's go see Sheba and tell her what Sirius said."
Harry smirked and nodded. "Yeah Sirius."
They spent the next minute or so returning their library books to their hiding places and packing their bags, as per an unspoken agreement they swung their bags over their shoulders as they walked away from the table and Daphne's gently swinging hand caught Harry's and she slipped her fingers between his.
"So, what colour are my eyes?"
Harry's response was immediate and his hand twitched like he was trying to extricate his fingers, she refused.
"blue."
"Blue? Are you sure?"
"Yes, why? Don't you know? Don't girls carry little mirrors with them?"
Daphne chuckled and pulled Harry in between two closely spaced book shelves and held the lit wand up so he could see her hazel eyes blink slowly a few mere inches from his. He gently grasped her chin and tilted her head left and right.
"Huh, that's weird."
Daphne squawked and twitched her head back slightly and bounced it off the shelf right behind her, the light of her wand bobbed around as she rubbed the back of her head with her wand hand and glared at his smirking face.
"Excuse me?!?"
Harry laughed as he clamped his free hand around their clasped hands as she struggled to loosen his grip.
"In Illyria your eyes are blue, here they're hazel. Your hair is the same though. Did you plait it like over there?"
Daphne twitched her shoulder slightly and smoothed her complexion then peered down her nose at him.
"How do you manage to look down on someone who is taller than you?"
Daphne smirked and turned their original course out of the library.
"It's a Slytherin thing, and a girl thing you wouldn't understand. Hey! You're not that much taller than me!"
The teasing banter carried them to the main library where they separated in silent agreement and met up again two corridors away from the library doors. Harry's hand twitched but he didn't reach for her hand in the public causeway. Their journey to the Runes professors office was uneventful apart from the two points Harry managed to score over Daphne which left her huffing and she out paced him and knocked on the door slightly too loud. Sheba answered the door within a few seconds and had a wildeyed look as she glanced between them and the empty corridor behind.
"Bloody hell, you scared the hell out of me, why did you knock so loud."
"Harry said he needed the toilet."
Harry started and glared between the two females, opened his mouth then closed it and nodded.
"Actually I do, can I?"
The older woman's amused face nodded towards the door at the back of the living quarters and they sat on the two sofa's as he hustled away. In the few minute he was gone both women had regain their good humour and were engaged in small talk until he sat next to Daphne and they fell silent.
"I guess you received a letter from Sirius too?"
Harry nodded and held it out to her. "Yes, came this morning. He knows where he is being held."
Sheba replied as she read and waved her wand absently and several glasses floated across the room.
"Me too, I thought you would be coming this morning. Thanks for letting me sleep in though. He did send me more information that 'I'm in the realm of the dead.' We will definitely get a quest but I can guarantee that it will take months or even years to find an entrance, figure out how to get to where he is then get us out."
"Where is the realm of the dead? What is it?"
Sheba sighed and pulled her ponytail over her shoulder and ran her hands over it a few times before responding.
"It is where adventurers who have been cursed go, and that it is meant to be for eternity. But there are stories of people coming back or being brought back so it is possible to return or be rescued. He said in my letter that he had to be rescued."
Harry looked down and sniffed, "this is feeling very real."
Daphne took his hand and rubbed his forearm gently.
"We'll get him."
Harry sighed and offered her a brave smile.
"This is a mixed day, I was having an inappropriate conversation with Neville at breakfast which was light and fun, this feels very real, very dark."
"Inappropriate how? I can't believe that of a Longbottom?!" Daphne smirked.
"That's really not important, come find me in Illyria. Are you there yet?"
Harry shook his head. "It'll be another couple of days, after the bandit quest we went back to one day here one day there, it's been really nice. Walking, training and getting to know the other guards and the merchants. I'm learning how to use a sword."
"We've stopped in Buford, another two days and we should be in sight of Redfast."
Sheba nodded. "Alright, Sirius will be a week or so before he's back and we will arrange it so we can meet up with him. I'll owl him today."
"Do you want to use my owl?"
Daphne and Sheba gave Harry a look and he glanced between them, worried.
"No thanks, I'll use a school owl."
Harry opened his mouth but Daphne had risen and pulled him to his feet. She smirked at him as they left the office and he glanced over his shoulder. Sheba was grinning up at him and tucked her legs underneath her.
"Is this a woman thing?"
"No you're just clueless." Daphne said as they past under the lintel and into the corridor.
Sheba's laughter could be heard through the door, it sounded slightly hysterical.
—--Scene Break—--
The corridor to Charms always had a light, airy feel to it, even in the evenings, mainly because Professor Flitwick liked it that way. The walls were adorned with enchanted windows that let in natural light, and the faint sound of birds chirping could often be heard. Harry and Hermione walked side by side, their conversation light and casual.
"Well, mum keeps saying that we can bring a friend."
"What do I know about skiing? I'll probably fall over."
"Harry, everyone falls over. You're the most gifted athlete in the entire school, you can do anything. It's much easier than riding a stick through the sky with iron balls trying to kill you."
"When are they talking about going?"
"During the spring half term, we usually stay here but mum is sick of not seeing me for nine months of the year. We'd go for the first week and have the second week to do our homework."
"What about Ron?"
"Oh definitely not, he'd kill himself."
Harry joined in Hermione's sniggers and they turned the corner and Hermione walked, forehead first, directly into Draco Malfoy's chin. The click of Malfoys teeth snapping together and Hermione's gasp of pain were simultaneous as was the hands clapping to their faces and the daggers they glared towards each other.
The pain contorted Malfoy's face into ugly lines and furrows, a counterpoint to his usually flawless complexion. He managed to control himself after a couple of seconds and his face smoothed as his hand fell away. The usual smug expression made an appearance and his sneer slid from Hermione to Harry.
"Potter, just the man, I've been looking for you."
Harry glanced concernedly at Hermione then regarded Malfoy. "At least we can both agree that I'm more man than you are."
Malfoy blinked and frowned. "What? No. That's just a phrase. The important thing is what I have to tell you."
"That's not important to anyone, not even you." Harry smirked.
"God, you're so annoying. I wanted to be the one to tell you that something big will happen this year, it will be massive and you won't be involved at all."
Harry grinned, "hey, do you promise?"
Malfoy looked non-plus and stammered, "w-what?"
"A quiet year sounds great to me."
Harry shrugged, placed a hand on the small of Hermione's back and provided enough force to propel her past Malfoy as he walked around him on the other side. Malfoy span on his heel to track Harry, a confused look on his face as his hand rose unbidden and touched his chin and he winced.
"Did you use fourteen porcupine quills or fifteen?"
The gleam in his eye and the gleeful smirk caused Hermione to stumble at his question then she managed to regain some composure.
"Fourteen, the quills have to be cut identically and placed on opposite sides of the cauldron simultaneously. Neville's problem was that Ron mixed the quills up and they didn't use the same ends. The magic doesn't maintain the right thaumaturgic frequency and the brew becomes erm, what's the word?"
Harry smiled, "blotchy. Thaumaturgy that was it. I was thinking about temperature."
Hermione signed indulgently, "no you weren't you know full well that temperature has nothing to do with it."
"We could really do with a way to see the flows of magic, it would revolutionise potion making."
Hermione glanced at Harry then squinted. "Did you just come up with an idea that no one has ever thought of?"
"Well, I don't know if no one ever has ever thought about it but I've not heard about anything like that, have you?"
"No, and I've got a few Ideas."
"Hey!"
Harry and Hermione stopped and turned to stare back at Malfoy who hadn't moved.
"Oh your still there? Why?"
Malfoy gasped at Harry's question then glared at Hermione who giggled.
"You have no idea what's coming this year," he taunted, a sinister gleam in his eyes.
"Okay."
Harry shrugged and turned back to Hermione.
"So, as I was saying, porcupine quills can have very different effects depending on the potion. If you add them too early, they can cause an explosion, but if you add them at the right time, they can enhance the potion's properties, too many or in the wrong placement then it could be Neville black tar."
"Yes, exactly. Timing is crucial with porcupine quills. They can be particularly tricky with certain healing potions."
Malfoy stood there and seethed as they continued on their way to the Charms classroom where their amused classmates waited, they had witnessed the entire conversation and most were stifling sniggers. Harry offered them a broad grin and the class cracked up as one and Malfoy, red faced, stalked away.
Hermione nudged Harry with her shoulder as he fist bumped Dean.
"Did you enjoy that?"
"Oh, it was glorious. I'm going to try a patronus with that memory."
—--Scene Break—--
The common room was abuzz with the collective groans and sighs of exhausted students. Harry and friends had gathered around the fireplace, their homework sprawled out before them, untouched for the moment. Hermione's wild hair could be seen on either side of a pile of books that rested on a nearby worktable.
Neville slumped in his chair, and rubbed his temples. "Bloody Mad-Eye is seriously creeping me out. I think I'd rather have Snape for DADA as well as potions."
Harry nodded in agreement. "He's intense, that's for sure. It's like he's always expecting an attack."
"At least Snape hasn't cursed us," Seamus added.
"Yet Seamus, yet. His eye keeps twitching when he looks at Harry or Neville."
The group laughed and Neville used his foot to push Dean off of his stool.
"That's more Ron than me, he's burnt more cauldron bottoms than I have. Snape's spare cauldrons are running low. He made me bring new ones out last night. There aren't many copper bottoms left."
Ron looked annoyed, grumbled under his breath then threw his hands in the air.
"Piss off Nev, it's not my fault he's a shit teacher. I never know what temperature to have the fire at. Too hot or too cold and it doesn't seem to make a difference."
Harry smirked as Hermione's head leant to one side so he could see an eye look at him accusingly. Harry shrugged and shook his head. He opened his mouth but Seamus beat him to it and returned to the original topic.
"Did I tell you that I've started having nightmares about dancing a jig until I die from exhaustion?"
Dean chuckled, shaking his head. "Sounds like Moody, alright. I'm just glad he hasn't turned any of us into ferrets yet."
Hermione lent further into view, a wry smile on her face. "I get it, guys. The last few weeks have been insane. Between the extra assignments and the constant vigilance, it's going to be a long year."
Ron groaned, leaning back in his chair. "Don't even get me started on the homework. I swear, if I see one more essay on the properties of bezoars, I'm going to lose it."
Harry sighed, staring into the flickering flames. "It's not just the homework, though. It's everything. The pressure, the expectations... Sometimes it feels like it's all too much."
Hermione smiled sympathetically, opened her mouth, paused then closed it again. Her sympathetic look became quizzical but Harry continued before she could comment.
"I know nothing has happened yet but with the way the teachers are pushing and what Malfoy was saying earlier. I dunno, I feel like that sword thingy is above my head."
Ron, Seamus and Dean all said, "huh?"
Hermione nodded. "Damocles sword? Yeah it does a little."
The evening wore on, the group finished their homework or set it aside for less important pursuits. Dean pulled out his sketch pad and was bickering with Seamus as he sketched Parvati and Lavender. Hermione had relocated to a sofa with a novel and had a soft smile on her face as Harry dozed on her shoulder. Ron had a panicked look on his face as he fought a savage chess match with Colin Creevy as the fire crackled merrily and students drifted off to bed.
T.B.C