Dark Rage
~Memory~
***
Hermione and Lupin had both spent the night in the Hospital Wing with Harry: Lupin in a bed to his right, and Hermione in a bed to his left.
Madame Pompfrey burst into the room as Harry attempted to leave his bed to go to the bathroom, but Madame Pompfrey would have none of it. She started shouting at him, saying that he was being irresponsible for leaving bed, especially when someone had their entire midsection crushed from a gigantic snake.
The shouts awoke Hermione and Lupin, and they all grouped up on Harry and forced him back into bed.
Harry's explanations of having to go pee were lost amongst the chastising the adults were giving him and the words of worry from Hermione.
By the time the adults had ceased their muttering it was time for lunch, and Lupin went down to fetch food for Harry, Hermione, and himself. Lupin sat in the chair next to his bed, and Hermione sat on the edge of his bed, and they spent about half an hour just talking. Hermione got into one of her rants about how poorly house-elves were treated, and Harry couldn't help but smile. So like Hermione to worry about the house-elves.
When lunch was finished, Lupin cleaned up with a wave of his wand, and then left, but not before checking up on how Harry was feeling. Harry answered with his usual `I'm fine', which Lupin seemed to not quite believe, but nodded his head all the same.
"How are you feeling, really?" Hermione asked, her voice full of concern.
"Okay," Harry responded, "my body's just a bit sore. Other than that, I feel great."
***
Hermione raised her eyebrows. She could see that Harry was suffering more than he was letting on. She knew that he had difficulty breathing. She knew that every movement of his chest and back hurt him a great deal. She didn't want for him to have to go through that.
She also knew that Harry was still grieving over Sirius' death, and she wanted to be there to help him with it. She wanted to hold him and help him.
She also knew, from Harry's eyes, that he was hiding something from her. His eyes had a haunted, bedeviled look that had not been there before the summer. She realized that something had happened over the summer, during his stay at his awful relative's house that had caused him to be fearful. There was something he wasn't telling her, but she wouldn't pressure him into it, she would let him speak on his own terms.
***
Stand aside…There is no good and evil…Only power…And those too weak to seek it…She won't wake…Let's match the power of Lord Voldemort…Heir of Salazar Slytherin…Against the famous Harry Potter…Kill the spare…Bow to death…It might even be painless…I would not know…I have never died...
"Avada Kedavra!"
With a jolt Harry awoke, his scar burning from the voice of Voldemort. The words were still ringing in his ears, echoing in the room. He closed his eyes and covered his ears, trying to block out the sounds, but it was growing steadily louder.
"Stop," he muttered, pleading with it to cease its endless taunting.
"Stop it!" he said more forcefully, and a loud cackle was his only reply.
"SHUT THE HELL UP!" Harry shouted, and a loud CRACK! as of thunder bellowed throughout the room.
"What is GOING on in here!" Madam Pompfrey came racing through the door leading from here office. She gasped at the sights that lie before her.
The windows were all blown out, and all the furniture surrounding Harry's bed had been thrown about ten yards. There was a small, crackling sound, as little bolts of electricity would leap from objects throughout the room.
But the strangest sight to behold there was Harry, hovering about a foot off the ground; His bed was turned to dust, and his clothes were burning. His eyes were glowing, like a flame: a malicious blood red, with no pupils visible.
She stood there for about three seconds, gazing at him, before he fell to the ground, exhausted of all his energy.
***
"It was like nothing I've ever seen! The whole room was charged with magic, and Harry himself was the source of it all. His eyes…they were…red--blood red--burning like a flame."
"How long has he been out?"
"About four hours."
Harry could hear Madam Pompfrey as she spoke, but his mind was too befuddled to actually take what she was taking in. He was very tired, as if he had just swam from England to America. Yet he still found the energy to speak.
"Ergh…"
"He's awake!"
Harry felt someone rush over towards his bed. He felt a soothing hand on his forehead. He smiled.
"Hermione…"
"Shhh… Just go back to sleep."
Her words were so gentle and soft. He felt himself easily slipping away…
***
"You mean I can leave?"
Such joy he felt at finally being able to leave the boring air of the Hospital Wing. He leapt out of bed, but regretted this as all the blood rushed to his head and he became dizzy, and would have fallen had it not been for Hermione and Lupin.
"Yes, you're free, but I want you to be very careful, understood?" She added in a slightly menacing tone. "You are still tender in some places, I don't want you to injure yourself again."
Harry soon found himself in the Headmaster's office, escorted and aided by Hermione and Lupin. Dumbledore was nowhere to be found.
"So, where's my stuff" Harry asked, not knowing what had happened to it when he had been attacked.
"It's already at my house," answered Hermione.
"How are we getting there?"
"By portkey," answered a voice behind Harry. Dumbledore strode into the room. "But before, I would like to know, Harry, if you are ready to tell me what happened this summer?"
Harry still did not feel like reliving it over again. But, then again, he had to relive it anyways, every night in his sleep.
"I'm sorry sir, but no, not yet, it's still too fresh in my mind. I just want to enjoy the rest of my summer. I will tell you when I'm ready."
"Alright." He looked towards Lupin; "I would like for you to escort Hermione back to her house, I would like a private conversation with Harry here." He handed Lupin a quill, which he in turn held out for Hermione to touch. The instant before they left, Hermione managed to wave good-bye to him and say, "See you soon!"
Harry heard Dumbledore sigh behind him. He turned to face the elder wizard. The grudge against the man came up to the forefront of his mind again. He frowned.
"I'm sorry Harry," Dumbledore said apologetically, "I should not be pressuring you every minute into telling me of your recent experience. I should realize by know that most memories and experiences you have are too horrifying to recount. I just wish to know what happened in due time, so I can analyze information that can be used in the resistance against Voldemort. Please forgive me once again for asking so much of you."
Harry examined Dumbledore closely, noting how his eyes were downcast and he moved in a rather somber manner.
"Apology accepted," Harry said, "I will tell you when the time is right, I just have so many things going on in my mind. I just feel like I'm, what's the expression? `Tumbling down the rabbit hole', yeah, that's it. I'm just really confused is all."
"Thank you for your forgiveness, Harry. But if you will excuse me, I have some business to attend to. Oh," He said as he suddenly remembered something, "Here is your portkey, it will transfer you to the Granger Residence in approximately- (he checked his strange watch)-twenty-two minutes." With that, Dumbledore swept out of his office, leaving Harry alone in the circular room, to look at his reflections on all the silver instruments strewn around the walls.
Harry glanced around at all the instruments, finding many of them still broken: a reminder. He saw something sparkle out of the corner of his eye. He turned to face it. It was a sword, hanging on the wall. The very same sword that he, Harry, had used to slay a basilisk. As his eyes looked over it's magnificent silver finish, he was inexplicably drawn to it. He felt a great urge to reach out and grab it, to hold it in his hands once again. Tentatively, he walked forwards, reaching his free hand out and slowly brushing the hilt of the gleaming blade. An image flashed into his mind as soon as did this.
He was standing with the blade in his hands, before a man who was surrounded by serpents. The man's eyes were red, with slits like a snake, and he was tall and thin. The man began speaking to the serpents: hissing and biting. They obeyed what he commanded. But he would not be frightened. With his courage and power, he used his blade to strike down the man of evil before him. The world went dark, and all that could be seen was the glow of his eyes.
And then, a most frightening voice spoke out.
"Wielder of my blade, I bestow upon you, my memories."
Harry let go of the blade instantly. Flames had engulfed the blade for a moment, and then disappeared just as rapidly. Harry looked down at his hand. Imprinted on his palm there was a small image of the Gryffindor lion. As he looked closer at it, he heard a very realistic roar inside his own head, which caused him to jump in shock. Before he could investigate any further, his portkey activated and he was flying through the air, his hand firmly planted on the enchanted quill.
He landed inside the kitchen of a very large and magnificent looking house. There were four people already standing there, obviously waiting for him. He was overcome with a wave of dizziness, as thousands of images and memories passed before his eyes. He steadied himself, but then another thought struck him.
He knew everything Godric Gryffindor had known.
But before he could think about this any further. He was being helped to stay standing by Hermione, who had seemed to sense his dizziness as soon as he entered her sight.
"I'm fine now Hermione, thank you," he said, she had still not let go of him. Realizing that she was still clutching him, and in plain view of her parents, she released him instantly, blushing.
***
Later that evening, after they had all been formally introduced and Harry had been given the grand tour, they were sitting down for dinner. All the Grangers had placed well-proportioned meals on their plates, while Harry, feeling that he did not deserve to eat the food they had worked for, only ate a little. By the time they were finished, Harry had barely eaten a thing.
"May I be excused?" he asked politely.
"Harry, you've barely touched your dinner," Mrs. Granger said in a motherly tone, "aren't you hungry?"
"Not really, but I've grown accustomed to it," he said briskly. He didn't notice how all their expressions darkened at that.
"What do you mean?" Mr. Granger asked.
"It's just…well while I was at the Dursleys…I wasn't really allowed to eat…much," at seeing their angry faces, he added quickly, "but it's okay, I'm used to it."
This had exactly the opposite effect he had wanted. The women each gave little gasps of horror, and Mr. Granger gave a little cry of outrage. Wanting to get out of the room as fast as possible, Harry excused himself and quietly ran up to his room, shutting the door behind him. He sat on the edge of his bed, and put his head in his hands.
Oh great, now another family pities me, Harry thought angrily, I just had to go and let that slip. Well that's the story of my life. I am cursed to be pitied by all who know me.
A small knock on the door interrupted Harry's thoughts. He slowly and morosely got off the bed and opened his door, altogether not surprised to find Hermione standing in the doorway. He made way for her to enter, and she stepped into his room and sat down on his bed. Harry closed the door again and sat down next to her. He put his head in his hands again.
Hermione slowly began to rub his back in small circles, trying to comfort him. Eventually, he began to speak.
"Why must everyone pity me?" he asked sorrowfully, "Why must everyone feel sorry for me?"
"It's okay Harry, there's nothing wrong with feeling sorry for someone."
"Yes there is," Harry said, somewhat harshly, "to be pitied means to be weak."
Hermione was somewhat shocked at this, it did not sound like something he would say.
"It doesn't make you weak, Harry, it means that they are showing concern and understand what you're going through."
"But they don't!" Harry said bitterly, "Nobody knows what I've had to go through! Nobody understands! Nobody has had to go through what I have!"
Hermione was beginning to get tears in her eyes. "There are people other than you that have suffered. You're not the only one. You're not alone."
Harry gave a hollow laugh that sent a chill down her spine. "You're wrong on that account. I have done suffering that no one else has."
"What are you talking about Harry?" Hermione asked tearfully.
Suddenly Harry's expression changed. It darkened considerably. "Why do you care? No one else does."
Hermione turned his head so that he was looking at her. She looked deeply into his eyes: his eyes that were so full of pain and grief.
"I care because you are my friend. You mean a lot to me. You're not alone," she repeated.
"Your wrong Hermione," Harry said dismissively, "I am alone, for more reasons than you know."
He strode from the room, leaving Hermione confused, depressed, and full of questions.
***
I am very, very sorry that I have not updated in a long time. I have been playing World of Warcraft, which is outrageously fun and addictive. Hopefully, though, I will be able to stay away from the game long enough to write more. It's too much fun!!
Sincerely,
The Dark Sorceror
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