AN- Okay, here it is! Not very much to say right now is there?
H/H FOREVER!
Bye!
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' That is all then.' Dumbledore said kindly. ' I'm sure you would both like to get back to you dorms now. I'm sorry to have caused you to miss so much of the celebration. Professor McGonagall? Would you please guide them back to their dorms? We can wait until Harry is awake tomorrow to continue this discussion.'
Dumbledore watched as Professor McGonagall led the two back down the stairs and when he was sure they were gone he closed the door and returned to his desk, sitting down and peering intently at the knife. After a moment's pondering he took out his wand and whispered ' Accio.'
He waited for a minute, but when nothing happened, the headmaster sat back in his chair looking both puzzled and intrigued.
< I don't know if this is really yours, Harry, but if it is, I'd certainly like to know where you got it.> he thought with a frown and a sigh.
¿ <'}}}><
When Madam Pomfrey had given Harry a sleeping potion to let him sleep until morning, when most of the pain of his bones mending would have passed, she didn't think of making it a dreamless sleep potion to ease the pain in his mind. And there was pain in Harry's dreams.
Looking at Harry's sleeping form you wouldn't notice any sign that he was having any dream at all, other than the usual lack of expression that Harry wore when he was awake, he looked as peaceful as any other sleeping person. But if one could look past his closed eyes to the dream his unconscious mind showed him, they would see that Harry Potter's mind was anything but peaceful.
Even as Harry's body recovered from the fight with the troll, Harry's mind relived it, playing and replaying the last moments before Harry lost consciousness. He felt the sickening vibration he had felt when he had stuck his knife through the troll's heart, and he knew in his dream, as he had realized just before he had been knocked out, that the thump he felt through the knife had been the last beat of the beast's heart. Harry had killed a being that probably had little idea of what was going on, for no more reason than that Harry hadn't found a way to save his friends without killing the troll.
Harry had always hated things dying. Seeing road kill had made Dudley laugh while it made Harry frustrated that there was nothing he could do. Even when walking home from school in the rain, Harry had walked with his head down to avoid stepping on any worms, and often stopped to pick them out of puddles where he simply couldn't stand to see them drowning. Harry had even avoided stepping on ants when he noticed them (AN- Some of you might think this is a little far fetched, but I myself do the exact same thing, so there!).
Harry knew that he had unintentionally killed plenty of things like ants in his life, but now he had killed a troll. What was worse was that he had done it on purpose, and worst of all was that trolls, while not exactly sentient, did have some vague understanding of the fact that they existed.
Perhaps Harry's mind realized that it was torturing itself with the repeating dream of the troll's death, or perhaps Harry's quick metabolism processed the sleeping potion faster than normal, but for whatever reason Harry awoke much sooner than had been expected. Which meant that he awoke by himself in a strange, dark place, feeling more than a little disoriented and confused thanks to the lingering effects of the sleeping potion.
The moment Harry awoke, his eyes snapped open and he sat straight up in the hospital bed. This turned out to be a big mistake as his bones still hadn't finished healing and the pressure put on his ribs by sitting up was as torturous to his body as the dream had been to his mind.
Harry sucked in a breath, falling back again and clenching his teeth against the pain.
< Where am I?> Harry wondered, and as soon as he did, he remembered what had happened… and that he had killed the troll.
As memory rushed back into his conscious mind, Harry curled into a ball, lying on his uninjured side and started breathing shakily as he remembered killing the troll. He really hadn't intended to kill it, only to injure it so that Ron, Hermione and him could get away. Unfortunately he had found out that a troll's heart wasn't in quite the same place relative to the rest of its body as a human's heart.
Eventually Harry fell asleep once more due to either the exhaustion of the healing his body was undergoing, or the still active sleeping potion, or some combination of the two, but his sleep was mercifully dreamless.
¿ <'}}}><
As usual, Hermione was the first to get up in the girls' dorm the next day. Normally she would have used the time before the rest of the house got up to work on homework or extra credit assignments, even if it was the weekend, but today wasn't a usual day, and she was only mildly surprised when she entered the common room to find that Ron was already up and dressed.
' McGonagall came by a few minutes ago.' Ron informed Hermione, from where he sat in one of the armchairs in the common room. ' She said that we could go see Harry after lunch. That's when the sleeping potion they gave him should wear off.'
Hermione nodded as she sat down in a chair across from Ron's.
' So… do you think that the knife was Harry's?' she finally asked. The question had kept her awake for quite a while the night before.
Ron furrowed his brow in thought.
' I really don't know.' He said. ' If it were anyone else I'd have to say it's probably not. After all, what good is a knife with so much magic around? But with Harry… well, you just never know what to expect.'
Hermione nodded once again, this time with a bit of a smirk.
' He's certainly a mysterious one, isn't he?' she asked. ' I mean I've known him for a couple months now and I can still never tell what he's thinking.'
Ron opened his mouth to respond when the portrait hole opening up to admit Professor McGonagall interrupted him.
' Ah, good, you're both here.' McGonagall addressed the two upon seeing them already waiting. ' I know that I told you that you'd have to wait until this afternoon to see Harry, but he has already woken up. It appears that both the healing and sleeping potions worked much faster than Madam Pomfrey had intended them to and she has deemed Harry able to receive visitors, so long as you don't get him over excited.'
Both Ron and Hermione's faces lit up at the news and the two jumped up and rushed past McGonagall as soon as she finished speaking, calling out their thanks over their shoulders as they rushed down the corridor.
¿ <'}}}><
Harry had woken up to the sounds of Madam Pomfrey bustling around and getting ready for all the patients she expected to have, seeing as it was the weekend. Harry sat up carefully, but found that his ribs no longer bothered him and indeed the only evidence that anything had happened to him were the bandages still tightly wound around his chest, restricting his breathing somewhat.
' Um… Madam Pomfrey?' Harry called to the busy Matron.
' Oh!' she exclaimed, spinning around to face Harry and placing a hand to her heart. ' My goodness, you gave me a start.'
Her look of surprise quickly turned to one of puzzlement.
' You shouldn't have woken yet, the potion was supposed to keep you under for several more hours.' Madam Pomfrey muttered as she hustled over to Harry's bedside. ' You certainly shouldn't be sitting up just yet, you need to stay lying down until you ribs have finished healing, but now that you're up anyway we may as well check how your ribs are coming along.'
She pulled out her wand and waved it at the bandages on Harry's chest creating a dim yellow glow.
' Well now that's funny.' She mused to herself as if Harry weren't even there and she waved her wand at the bandages again causing them to glow a bit brighter.
' Excuse me,' ventured Harry ' but what exactly is "funny"?'
' Hmm?' she said looking up from Harry's ribs to his face. ' Well it seems that the potions that were given to you to heal your ribs have all done their jobs properly, but it really should have taken a bit longer.'
' How can you tell?' asked Harry with a frown. ' What does the charm you used do? And what did the yellow stuff mean?'
' First I didn't use a charm, I just activated one in the bandages.' Pomfrey lectured, happy to explain the tools of her trade. ' To answer your second question, the charm in the bandages, when active, detects whatever potion is in the person they're wrapped around and turns blue if the potion is active. That is to say if it is doing whatever it is intended to do. The darker blue it is, the more active the detected potions are. Your bandages should have been a light blue since the potions would almost be finished their work by now. The fact that nothing happened most likely means that the potions are inactive since very little can go wrong with such a simple charm.' At this point she frowned and looked at Harry quizzically. ' I don't know what yellow stuff you mean though.'
Harry realized that the yellow had only been the charm in the bandages being activated and that although he could see it reacting Madam Pomfrey probably didn't have the same ability. He just about started to explain this to Madam Pomfrey, but thought better of it, figuring that the less that people knew about him, the less he'd be treated differently.
' Oh, sorry.' He said, pretending to be a little embarrassed. ' It must have just been the sun reflecting off the buttons on your robes.'
Madam Pomfrey smiled kindly and set about removing Harry's bandages, while joking with Harry that maybe he hit his head harder than she had thought.
' So I guess I'll head back to my dorm now?' Harry said as Madam Pomfrey finished with his bandages.
Madam Pomfrey raised an eyebrow at this.
' I don't think so, mister.' She with a smile, but with a warning tone in her voice. ' The potions may not be active, but they're still in you. They need to be flushed out and I'll need to make sure that your ribs are in fact healed.'
Harry paused for a moment, weighing his chances of convincing her to let him go. One look at her face and he dropped that line of thought.
< Well, she is definitely not someone I want mad at me.> Harry thought. < Especially since I'll likely need her goodwill at some point in the Quidditch season.>
Hoping to quickly change the subject and get that- dangerous- look off her face Harry asked about the potions.
' Why do the potions need to be "flushed"? Wouldn't it be good to already have them in me in case I broke another bone later on?' He asked assuming, correctly, that any professional would enjoy explaining the details of their trade.
Pomfrey beamed at his question.
' I can see why the professors enjoy having you for a student. You're always thinking ahead, aren't you?' she nodded in satisfaction, dropping her serious look. ' I can see how you might assume that, but as you'll learn in potions in a few years, potions can be activated to do their work without any actual need for them. For example, in this case if you were to later bruise your bone, the potions that are in you now would start trying to get your bones to knit together since that is what they are designed to do. When they were administered last night they acted on your broken ribs, pulling the pieces together and speeding up their growth, as well as many other things you'll only learn about if you pursue a career in healing.' She frowned again, cocking her head to the side, thinking hard. ' I must have overestimated the extent of the damage to your ribs since they healed so fast, but anywho, the damaged bone would cause some of the potions to activate again. It could result in uncontrolled cellular growth in your bones (Harry was mildly surprised to learn that wizards knew about muggle science, such as cell theory), or it could cause your joints to start fusing together depending on what potions happened to become active- '
Ring!
Madam Pomfrey looked surprised at the chime and rushed into her office, excusing herself to Harry.
Harry had listened earnestly to the long explanation. He had found it fascinating to see that magic, when you took into account the fact that effect did not always follow from a physical cause, actually worked quite logically. As interesting as it was though, Harry didn't think he wanted to pursue a career in healing, but his questions had definitely earned him Madam Pomfrey's friendship.
< Maybe, if I butter her up enough, I'll be out of here before the weekend's completely over.> thought Harry with a sigh as Pomfrey came back into the room from her office carrying a small goblet of some silvery looking potion.
' That was Professor McGonagall in the fire (AN- Think Sirius talking to Harry about the first task in Book #4), she stopped by the Gryffindor common room earlier this morning and spoke to Ron Weasley about coming to visit you around noon when you were supposed to be waking up.' Pomfrey announced with a slight smirk. ' She's going to head back there now to let your friends know that you're already up, so drink up and you should be ready to leave by the time they get here.'
Harry took the goblet when it was offered and looked at it curiously.
' That's to pull the leftover potions from your body.' Pomfrey answered Harry's question before he could ask.
' Cheers.' Harry said as he raised the cup to his lips and tossed it back in one go.
The taste was surprisingly pleasant though. Harry had expected it to taste like metal, given its silvery look, but it tasted more like lemonade than anything else.
He handed the goblet back to Madam Pomfrey who was looking at him rather expectantly. Just before Harry was about to ask just why she was looking at him like that, he felt it. It started as a rumbling in his stomach and as the growling of his stomach got louder Harry could feel pressure building up.
The door burst open and a breathless Ron and Hermione rushed in just as Harry's stomach suddenly went quiet. Then, just as Ron and Hermione opened their mouths to speak, the pressure that had built up in Harry's stomach was released.
' BUUUURRRRRRRRPPPP!' was Harry's response to his friends' arrival, as the potions that had been left in his body were… expelled, thanks to the silvery potion.
There was a moment of absolute silence as Harry's face turned a very light pink and Ron and Hermione's mouths hung wide open. A moment was all it lasted though before Ron broke into gales of cackling laughter, which knocked him to the floor clutching at his stomach.
Hermione's eyes went wide and her face turned quite red as she started to look mildly disgusted.
Looking miffed at Ron's roaring laughter Pomfrey scolded him ' Mr. Weasley, control yourself! The leftover potions in Harry's body were simply forced out by a purifying draught. It is hardly something worth losing your self control over and I highly doubt that Harry appreciates your reaction to something he had no control over- '
She might have continued to berate Ron, but it was apparent that lowering the volume of his laughter was all Ron was able to manage at the moment so Pomfrey went back into her office with a sniff.
After watching Madam Pomfrey go back to her office, Hermione shook her head at Ron and walked over to sit on the bed next to Harry's.
Ron, when he was once more in control of his body, crawled over to lean on the bed next to where Hermione was sitting, a grin still plastered on his face.
' I take it your ribs are feeling better then, Harry?' Ron asked and shook with more repressed laughter.
' Ron!' scolded Hermione.
' Yeah, my ribs are alright now.' Harry interrupted, smirking, before Ron and Hermione could get into another row. His smirk was not long lived though, and his ace resumed its usual blank mask. ' As good as it is to see both of you right now; I'd like to know what I missed. If you don't mind?'
Ron's shoulders stopped shaking and his face turned sober. Hermione too dropped the stern look she had been giving Ron and faced Harry.
' Well then,' Ron started ' what can you remember?'
' The last thing I remember clearly is having a small tree slammed into me.'
Taking a deep breath Ron began to tell Harry about what happened after Harry had hit the wall. Harry's memory of Ron and Hermione helping him to get up and walk was fuzzy at best, but there wasn't much to be told about how he got to the hospital wing.
' So what did they do with the body?' Harry asked with a sigh upon hearing that Flitwick and a Professor Sinastra had been sent to check on the troll. His face showed no emotion, but without his glasses covering them Harry's eyes revealed his sorrow over the troll's death.
' I don't know.' Hermione answered slowly. ' Professor Dumbledore only told us about what they found when they examined it. How did you know it was dead though?'
Harry opened his mouth then closed it and looked away from Hermione's eyes.
< Great.> he thought. < How do I explain this?>
Ron saved him from having to explain anything though.
' So it is yours then.' Ron said, looking at Harry oddly.
Harry looked up again at his two friends and wished he had more experience with people so that he might know what to say or do now, when he actually cared what someone thought of him.
None of the three knew what to say and all looked away from each other, waiting for one of the other two to beak the silence. Nothing was said for almost a full minute and it might have gone on longer had the door to the room not opened to admit a smiling Professor Dumbledore followed by a dour looking Professor McGonagall.
' Ah, Harry! Good to see you've recovered so quickly!' Dumbledore said as he conjured a chair and sat down on it at the side of Harry's bed opposite to Ron and Hermione.
Both McGonagall and Hermione seemed shocked at Dumbledore's casual manner, but neither was about to say anything about it.
Glad for the distraction at first, Harry quickly noted that both Ron and Hermione became tenser and were obviously worried about something that Harry was currently ignorant of.
' I'm just glad I'm alive at all, Professor.' Harry answered carefully, feeling naked without his glasses to hide his eyes from Dumbledore's sparkling stare. On top of that, Harry was beginning to feel rather self-conscious about facing four fully clothed people while wearing just his bedclothes.
' As much as I appreciate your concern, I assume that you aren't just here to congratulate me on being healed?' Harry asked.
< Man, I hope this doesn't take long!> thought Harry, fighting to keep from blushing at his predicament.
Dumbledore's smile faded slightly at Harry's words as he reached into a pocket on his robes, which Harry could've sworn wasn't there a moment before, and pulled out something wrapped in white cloth.
' Indeed there is another reason for my visit, Harry. A rather serious one to.'
< Ah, crap.> Harry thought seeing the change in Dumbledore's expression. < This isn't going to be quick.>
Dumbledore seemed to sense Harry's growing discomfort and with a wave of his wand Harry's bedclothes were changed to regular school robes. Another wave and Harry found himself sitting, not in a bed, but in a replica of the chair Dumbledore had conjured.
Harry smiled slightly and nodded his thanks.
' First off, Harry, I must ask you,' Dumbledore said gravely; unwrapping the cloth to show Harry what he'd known would be there. ' Does this belong to you?'
Harry's right hand twitched upon seeing the knife, and Harry had to stop himself from reaching out to take it back.
' Yes,' he answered, ' it does.'
' I am I correct to assume that you had no idea that it is against the rules for any student to carry a non-magical weapon without the knowledge and consent of the staff?' asked Dumbledore, sounding more official than casual now.
' No, sir, I didn't.'
' Under normal circumstances you would possibly face expulsion, but obviously these are not normal circumstances.' Continued Dumbledore. ' Despite the fact that you didn't know that you were breaking any rules by having this knife, you still did break the rule.'
Now Professor McGonagall spoke up for the first time since she had entered the room.
' There is still the matter of your conduct and Mr. Weasley's last evening.' She pronounced. ' You knew that you were to go to your house common room to continue the feast and yet you both went off on your own. Now I understand that you acted on behalf of you concern for Ms. Granger's well being, for which I commend you, but if you had thought it through you would have seen that it would have been better for everyone if you had just told a member of the staff and let them handle it. So, Harry, since you broke two rules, you will have two nights of detention with Mr. Filch and Ron, you will accompany him for one night.'
' Well then,' said Dumbledore, clapping his hands and standing up. ' Now that that's out of the way I would like to have a word with Harry in private.' And he ushered everyone out of the room, including, much to her indignity, Madam Pomfrey.
Dumbledore was smiling as he turned back to Harry.
' Now, Harry, would you mind telling me just where you got this knife?' he asked.
' May I have it back please?' Harry asked, bypassing the professor's question.
' You certainly may- eventually; when you may have it back and whether or not you are allowed to continue to carry it with you; however, depends on many things, including your answer to my question.' Dumbledore said, his smile not fading at all despite the bluntness of Harry's question.
Still feeling rather naked without his glasses to cover his eyes, Harry tried to look away from his headmaster's eyes, but he found he couldn't. Dumbledore's stare seemed to mesmerize him and Harry found himself about to start telling Dumbledore all about how he had gotten the knife, but he quickly stopped himself and finally was able to look away from the piercing gaze.
Harry just wanted to have his knife back. Aside from the free lessons that Mr. Osakawa had given him at the dojo, the knife had been the only thing that Harry had ever been given that could be considered as any kind of a gift. Aside from that it was also the only thing that Harry had to remind him of his sensei and since it was obviously very important to Osakawa-san that Harry should have it had enormous sentimental value to Harry.
< Well then, if I'm not going to have it back until I tell him where I got it in the first place I'd best tell him.> Harry thought. < Why don't I want to tell him in the first place? Oh well. Here goes.>
' I got it from my sensei, Osakawa-san. He gave it to me because he was supposed to pass it on to his oldest son as a family tradition, but he has no sons and- ' Harry stopped to compose himself, as he had felt that he was starting to blush. ' and he said that he considers me his son, even if I'm not actually related to him.' Harry finished in a rush. ' So can I have it back please?'
Dumbledore didn't say anything until Harry looked back up into his eyes again.
' I'm not yet sure when you may have it back Harry, although I assure you that it will be returned to you eventually. Do you know how long it has been in your- Mr. Osakawa-san's family? Or where the knife first came from?'
Harry hid his smile at the professor's use of the Japanese honorific "san" and began to tell Dumbledore what he remembered of the stories that Mr. Osakawa had told him about the knife. At the time neither Mr. Osakawa nor Harry had believed them at all.
' Well, Mr. Osakawa- ' Harry paused after saying the name so that Professor Dumbledore would be able to figure out that "san" was not part of the name. ' he told me that no one in his family had any idea where the knife actually came from since all that was remembered about it's origins was in the form of legends and myths. Now that I think about it though, the legends may be true. After all, I didn't think there was any such thing as magic at the time. Anywho, according to the legends, which are supposed to be passed on with the knife, the knife was made a long time ago in Japan. An evil wizard made it, but I think that all wizards and witches were supposed to be evil in these legends. This evil wizard was supposed to be the most powerful wizard that Japan had ever seen, but he was held captive in shackles made of some special material that couldn't be affected by magic. The knife was supposedly made of the same material, but the story doesn't say how magic was used in the making of the knife, just that it was. Of course Osakawa-san and I couldn't make sense of how something that couldn't be affected by magic was made using magic, and I think that's one of the other reasons we didn't believe it.'
' Hmmm.' Was Dumbledore's comment as he stroked his beard in thought. ' Do these "myths" say anything about why the knife was made?'
Harry frowned, trying to remember what Mr. Osakawa had told him.
' I think- I think it was made for some wonderful group of people to be used to kill all of the other wizards, since a person would be able to block most spells shot at them with the knife and the knife could cut through any magical protections that an assassin would face.' Said Harry with a small frown.
' Hmmm. Harry, you won't be starting to learn about the magical history of other countries until fourth or fifth year, but when you do you will most likely read about a group of Japanese muggles who believed it was their "duty" to eradicate all traces of magic in the world. Of course they were only one such group of many all over the world, but the important thing is that they did in fact exist, and I believe that the stories you have been told about this knife may be true.' Dumbledore said, looking gravely at Harry. ' do you understand, Harry? This knife was made, and used, by people who were, for the lack of better words, evil and ignorant. Are you sure you still want this knife back?'
' Professor, it's not entirely certain that this knife is the same one that you're talking about right?' Harry asked sighing.
' No, it is not certain, but it is quite likely.'
As Harry looked up into the headmaster's eyes, he saw the same twinkle that always seemed to be there, as if Dumbledore saw something funny that no one else could, but Harry also saw a calculating look. It was as if he were weighing Harry's reactions and measuring some unknown quality about Harry by doing so.
Shaking his head Harry continued.
' Well even if it is the same knife, it is still the same knife I've carried with me since the day it was given to me. Even if the people who made it and used it were evil, the knife isn't capable of being evil. It is only a tool; evil can be done with it, but then it is the person wielding it who is evil, not the knife. So yes, professor, I would like to have my knife back.'
Dumbledore actually let out a laugh at this.
' Very well, Harry, you may have your knife back, but Professor McGonagall has begged me to at least make sure that you will not hurt yourself with it if I did decide to give it back to you right away. Do you know how to handle this knife without getting hurt and without letting anyone around you be hurt?' asked Dumbledore and Harry nodded in return. ' Well you may have it back now, but don't be surprised if Professor McGonagall asks you to prove that you know how not to get hurt.'
And then Dumbledore handed Harry back his knife, the twinkle in his eyes brighter than ever. He then waved his wand as he stood up and his chair disappeared even as Harry's robes and chair turned back bedclothes and a bed, and he walked out of the room closing the door quietly behind him.
Harry never noticed a thing. His eyes and hands were focused on his knife, which hadn't left his side since he first got it and was now back in his hands after a day without it.
Examining the blade he realized that there was no evidence of his fight with the troll on it. Thinking of the fight triggered ugly thoughts about how Harry had killed a creature that was at least slightly sentient. Harry sat up straight in bed, crossing his legs and relaxing, falling naturally into a sort of meditative trance as he tried to sort out his thoughts on having killed.
¿ <'}}}><
It wasn't until the afternoon that Harry "woke up" from his trance. During his thinking, Harry had decided that although he should have found another way to save his friends, there was no point dwelling on a past mistake. As his sensei had always taught him, " When you make a mistake, learn from it and move on. If you obsess over it you will unconsciously repeat it.". So Harry decided that he wouldn't focus on the mistake, but on the solution. He figured that if he'd known more about the troll's anatomy, or had known more spells, then he could have saved both his friends and the troll.
< Alright, first stop- the library!> Harry thought to himself as he got up from where he'd been sitting on the bed since Professor Dumbledore left.
As Harry left the hospital wing he heard a growl. Looking down for the source of the sound he realized it had been his stomach. < Okay, maybe the great hall should be the first stop.> he amended his previous thought. < I wonder if they're still serving lunch?>
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AN- Still not much to say… I'm going to write a story that splits off from this one at chapter twenty. I hope you'll read it as well and tell me how much it sux…
H/H FOREVER!
Bye!