The Bird and the Worm, The Used
All alone he turns to stone
while holding his breath half to death
Terrified of what's inside
to save his life he crawls
like a worm from a bird
crawls like a worm from a bird
Out of his mind away
pushes him whispering
must have been out of his mind
mid-day delusions of pushing this out of his head
maybe out of his mind
All he knows
If he can't relieve it, it grows
and so it goes
he crawls like a worm
crawls like a worm from the bird
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches," Trelawney intoned as Harry watched Dumbledore and the woman in a pub's side room.
"Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies," There was something to her demeanour, Harry thought to himself. Something more than the haze the prophecy induced. Dumbledore looked entirely nonplussed by her sudden predictions.
"And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not,"
The Boy Who Lived frowned at this but continued his examination of the memory.
"And either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies."
He withdrew from the woman's mind momentarily, ignoring her wailing, before he re-entered the memory with unnecessary aggression. There was something he was missing.
Harry had immediately discounted the idea of telling the headmaster that he was pretty sure the Dark Lord had found the prophecy. It was likely that Dumbledore already knew, probably through Snape. They had already concluded that Trelawney and the prophecy, along with her, had been lost. So, he pushed the dream down and locked it away with the others.
Two weeks had passed since he had used his second Unforgivable, and he was on edge, expecting the hunger to resurface at any moment. The Slytherins continued to give him a wide berth, inside and outside of class. While he was glad for it, he was primarily suspicious.
He had gotten no further in understanding what was wrong with him, and he had begun to suspect that whatever was going on, he wouldn't find the answers in the Hogwarts Library. He hadn't given up, but he was considerably less hopeful. He'd been sitting with Ginny and Ron in the Library, still searching but less enthusiastically when a loud bang snapped him out of his head.
"This is a funny-looking Quidditch game," Hermione said, her hand still on the book she had slammed on the table.
"Oh," Harry said, closing the Occlumency text he'd been reading. "We finished up."
"No!" She hissed, careful not to yell in the library despite her book slamming. "Stop it! What is going on, Harry?"
The Boy Who Lived finally looked into her eyes, guilt washing over him. He wished he could tell them. He wished he could tell them and that they would understand. That they could help him, that he wouldn't invariably fuck it all up. That he wouldn't frighten them. Get them hurt.
"Hermione… I can't-"
She didn't let him finish, instead turning forcefully on her heels and storming from the library.
The Weasley siblings watched him, both looking forlorn. He refocused his attention on the book, frowning. When Ron and Ginny returned to their reading, Harry took the map from his pocket, where it had stayed permanently after he'd cursed Zabini. It was a reasonable tool in avoiding the Slytherins, Malfoy in particular. The easy way he'd used the Imperius unnerved him, and he'd opted to take more care in avoiding temptation. He didn't want to think about how difficult it was to avoid that temptation, once the hunger had clawed at him for weeks. He'd taken to biting his tongue until he tasted metal every time the thought of Zabini and Parkinson cropped up.
He watched Hermione ascend the staircase of the headmaster's office on the Marauder's map and squeezed his eyes shut.
"Harry…" Ginny began, breaking the stillness of the late-night Common Room. He looked up at her, already wary.
"I wouldn't ask—but since that night… Is everything okay? Are we all okay?" She hadn't been reading, as Harry was, instead sitting with him silently after dinner.
He wanted to open his mouth and tell her everything. He wondered if he would feel relieved or horrified. Both.
"We're all fine, Ginny," he said after hesitating for too long. She looked as though she might cry but shook her head instead.
"It's late," she said, sighing as she stood. "You know I trust you, right, Harry? You can trust me, too."
She didn't wait for him to reply as she headed to bed.
Instead of repelling Hermione after their spat in the library, he'd inadvertently caused her to never let him out of her sight.
She made a spectacle of packing up her things and following him when he ducked out of the portrait hole every time she caught him leaving, and she did catch him, more often than not. The only reprieve he got from her, and her bristled attitude were the classes that he didn't share with her and detentions with Snape. She was cordial with only Ginny, shooting Harry and Ron meaningful, angry looks, saying very little to them. Because of this, he was spending less time searching for answers.
He'd conceded that he wouldn't find anything in a Library made for children. He didn't know where on earth he'd find a single sentence describing his current predicament, but it wasn't in Hogwarts.
He sat with the three of them in the Common Room, chairs and lounges pushed to the sides to make space for them to sit on the ground. Open Herbology textbooks lay in the middle, scrolls of parchment in front of them as Hermione corrected everyone's grammar and flow. All except Ron, who had given up after writing his name and the first line of his essay. Hermione had ignored him entirely. A group of first year Gryffindors squealed at the other side of the room, chasing chocolate frogs.
"Harry, you've forgotten the part about Alihotsy," Hermione told him, not looking at his face. He sighed and shot the youngest Weasley a look. She smiled apologetically. She'd been working on her Charms homework but had slowed down halfway through her page. As he looked between the Weasley siblings, he realised that he hadn't seen them speak a word to each other in… How long?
He frowned and corrected his essay, adding that Alihotsy tree would make anyone who consumed the leaves cackle like a hyena.
He'd begun to tally how many days he could go before the aching hunger rose and noted, as he suspected, that he was getting less and less time between thrashings. As far as he could calculate, the amount of time he had before the pain came back had been halved with every casting. If he was right, he had a matter of days before it resurfaced. If he was lucky, maybe two weeks.
"Are you excited for Apparition lessons, Harry?" Ginny asked, snapping him out of his anxiety.
"Oh. Yeah. Should come in handy," he said, not mentioning that he had hardly thought about it. A chocolate frog invaded their circle, and Harry caught it, handing it to the shy first-year girl who'd come to claim it.
Hermione had returned to her Herbology essay, and Ron was repeatedly tossing a small ball in the air. The bushy-haired girl scoffed at the Weasley but didn't say anything.
He'd been surrounded in the bathrooms on the second floor by two Gryffindors and a Hufflepuff, the three of them with their wands raised, laughing at him.
Harry had his raised right back, but he knew he was outnumbered as they backed him into a corner. He wracked his brain and found that there was no solution that wouldn't result in either punishment or pain. He decided the choice was obvious.
"Liquida Tenebris!" He'd startled them with his shout, the trio not expecting him to fight back. They'd had time to turn on their heels as a thick, inky tidal wave of blackness surrounded them. The three students hit the tiles with a scream and a smack before there was silence.
The dream shifted, and he was crying on the floor in Privet Drive. He was no older than four. Vernon was shouting, Petunia was holding Dudley and rocking him, looking at Harry like he was a cockroach she'd removed from her ear. Dudley glared at him from his mother's arms while his uncle dragged him by his ears and threw him into the cupboard under the stairs.
"No food for the rest of the week!" Vernon sing-songed through the door as he locked it from the outside.
Harry had found three toy army men in the back garden while planting. Caked in dirt and long forgotten, he brushed them off and slipped them into his pocket. It was clear Dudley had forgotten they existed. A few days later, he found Harry playing with them and snatched them back.
The Boy Who Lived, seething with fury, had pinched his cousin on the arm in retaliation.
The Boy Who Lived woke with his jaw firmly clenched and his heart pounding. He uncorked a calming potion that he kept under his pillow and took it in one mouthful. He waited for under five seconds before taking another from inside his side table, downing it as well. He dug his fists into his temples as he felt the telltale burning beginning in his middle. Less time than he'd thought.
Harry let out a shaky breath and pulled the map out, also under his pillow—a distraction. He cast Lumos and watched the map. For once, the Slytherins were where they were supposed to be—in the Dungeons. While he watched them, unmoving, he realized he had a way to see what Malfoy was up to.
He shot out of bed and down the stairs, calling Kreacher and Dobby once he'd reached the Common Room. Harry immediately regretted calling them both at once when the pair got into a fistfight over the Chosen One's honour.
"Stop! Stop, stop!" He pulled them apart before they could alert the entire House of Gryffindor.
"I need you to do something for me, Kreacher." He told the elf quickly, so they wouldn't brawl again, "I need you to follow Malfoy into the Room of Requirement and find out what he's doing in there. I want you to go with him, Dobby. Make sure he doesn't screw it up."
The pair had disappeared with a snap, Dobby nodding enthusiastically and Kreacher giving his best sneer.
Harry had been relieved to feel some semblance of control.
A week later, the sixth-year students gathered for their first Apparition lesson. No one managed it successfully, but Susan Bones splinched herself, which had been declared a 'good effort' by their Ministry-appointed instructor.
"Until next Saturday, everybody, and do not forget: Destination. Determination. Deliberation." He'd called after the retreating, grey-faced sixth years. Harry had headed straight to his detention with Snape afterwards.
The raging hunger increased exponentially from the instant he'd noticed it had returned. Spending time with Snape was hard enough on a regular day. It wasn't a regular day. He was aggressively gnawing on the inside of his cheeks when he pushed open the Defence teacher's door. Snape turned when he'd stepped into the frame and watched Harry for a long moment; the both of them stood still. The Boy Who Lived waited to be told exactly what it was he was going to be doing for the detention, but the man just stared.
"On your way, Potter," Snape said after an awkwardly long minute, waving his arm.
"Professor?" Harry questioned.
"Go."
He didn't need to be told a third time, so he took his leave. He was glad not to spend the afternoon with the Defence Professor but was confused and wary about the reason. So much so that he shut himself in a toilet cubicle and took out the map.
He waited, and sure enough, Malfoy joined the Professor. The two of them left the office and then the castle grounds entirely.
Kreacher and Dobby returned to him late at night while Harry and Ginny discussed their minimal theories on Malfoy and Snape after Hermione finally relented and went to bed. It was as though the discussion had summoned the elves.
"He's repairing a cabinet." Kreacher had said, distaste for the Chosen One obvious.
"A cabinet?" Harry parroted.
"Yes, Harry Potter, Dobby is seeing the young Malfoy. With his wand!" Dobby imitated a wizard casting a spell.
"That's… all he's doing? Fixing a cupboard? For this long?" The Boy Who Lived was incredulous.
Harry told them to continue watching him as much as they could without arousing suspicion. The elves popped away, and Harry frowned. It didn't make sense.
"That doesn't make sense," Ginny said, as though she heard him thinking it. "Do you think we should… Ask Hermione?"
Harry decided to ask her at least if she knew of any dark… cabinets. "She doesn't believe me. About Malfoy. Not yet, anyway. I'll ask about the cupboard."
Ginny had nodded and agreed that it was probably best not to provoke Hermione with the Slytherin.
"Ginny… Is everything good with you and Ron?" Harry asked in a moment of silence after debating whether to ask at all.
"Oh. Ah," She frowned, and her fingers turned white on the arms of her chair.
"What do you mean." Her voice was quiet, careful, deadpan.
"I mean, is something wrong? Are you fighting? I haven't seen you talk to each other since…" he trailed off. He wasn't sure exactly when he'd seen the two of them interact last, the night he'd found them in an abandoned classroom. But even that strange night, Ron hadn't spoken a word to her.
"You know how Ron is. He doesn't want to hang out with his little sister." Her hands had relaxed.
"Right," Harry said, squinting at her. He was sure now, more than before, that there was something wrong.
That there was something wrong, and she was hiding it. The Boy Who Lived was familiar with that sensation, and for a moment, he realised how frustrated his friends must have been by his recent behaviour. That feeling stopped him from pressing her further.
"My Lord, I bring news." Snape bowed low and remained that way until Harry motioned for him to rise.
"There is a Prophecy."
Harry needed no further invitation to enter the man's head, and Severus allowed it. Harry saw through his eyes as the man watched Albus Dumbledore and Sybil Trelawney take a private room. Snape waited a moment, searching the Hog's Head Inn for prying eyes before he followed them and pressed his ear to the door.
"-The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies."
The dream morphed, and he stood in Godric's Hollow, looking up at a quaint little two-story house on the sleepy street. He took it in for a moment before he moved up the path.
"Bombarda Maxima," he said as he reached the door. The commotion was instant.
"Lily! Lily, get Harry!" James shouted. His wife wasted no time racing up the stairs as James spun to face him.
"No! You won't take him! You can't have him!" He had drawn his wand, levelling it with Harry's face. He had no plans to take the child. He was simply going to kill it.
"Avada Kedavra," The Chosen One's tone was conversational.
When Harry woke, he was already vomiting. He fought the sheets that were stuck to his body, thrashing until he fell out with a bang. He knew he was making a lot of noise but could do nothing to stop it. He was alternating between not breathing and hyperventilating; rasping howls wracked him as his arms and legs lost sensation, seemingly vanishing from his body. The room strangely turned a shade of blue-green as he struggled.
"Harry? Harry!"
He felt hands on him, and he instinctively fought, vision blurred with tears as he clawed at whoever was touching him. Desperate, choked sobs escaped him as he threw his limbs mindlessly, kicking and swinging and screaming.
"Harry!?"
He knew more people were watching him now, but he couldn't focus. Couldn't fight it. He lost consciousness on the floor, eyes rolling into the back of his head.
"I think he's waking up," Harry heard Ginny's voice as he opened his eyes in the Hospital Wing for the second time that year.
Ron, Ginny, and Hermione sat around his bed.
"Are you alright, mate? You gave me a right scare," Ron said, and the others nodded.
The Boy Who Lived sat up slowly and avoided looking at them in the eye.
"I had a nightmare. About my - parents."
"From Voldemort?" Hermione asked quickly.
Harry flinched but felt he hid it well. "No. Those have been… Getting better." He lied, swallowing heavily and still watching his bed covers with interest. He noticed that the hunger had returned to haunt him constantly, the dull ache unmoving in his solar plexus.
He fought back tears and squeezed his eyes shut before he chanced a look at Ginny. Her face was still as a mask while she stared at him.
The Chosen One had been allowed to leave after he awoke and was told that Dumbledore was away from the castle, but when he returned, he'd requested that Harry come and see him. Someone must have informed the headmaster, wherever the man was, that Harry had an episode. He allowed Ron, Hermione, and Ginny to lead him back to the Gryffindor Tower.