Dark Rage
~Shadows of the Dark~
***
Stars were gleaming brightly. Planets slowly revolved around their suns. Galaxies stood out in front of Harry as he traveled through space and time. He could hear whispers of souls through the echoing darkness. There was a shadow, spread out before the magnificent sight, threatening to enclaim all in blackness darker than the lightless veils of space.
Space was fading…. There was a room; filled with people. One figure sat at the head of them all: upon a throne of silver bones and green snakes. He was hooded, thin, and tall, and radiated a sense of power that sent fear chilling through the ranks of those before him. The people grouped before him parted; a small band of cloaked figures walked down the pathway. There were five of them, their black hoods drawn up, carrying themselves in a way of arrogance and overconfidence. They showed no signs of fear at the man sitting upon his throne.
Four of the figures walked side by side, the one in the center stood in front of the rest, obviously indicating leadership. The figures kneeled simultaneously as they reached the foot of the throne, portraying their high respect for the one sitting before them. There were different colored rings on the fingers of the four followers: white, red, blue, and brown. They seemed to serve as some sort of representation, though it had yet to be explained. The four wearing the rings looked up to the center figure for guidance.
The center figure was a man; tall and thin like the figure sitting on the throne. His face was not that of any normal man, for there were horizontal black stripes on his cheeks and vertical black stripes on his forehead and chin. There were shadows around his eyes, slightly masking them. His skin was slightly dark.
He was carrying a staff in his right hand; black, long, and with two red jewels sat in the top. As he raised his staff to hail the one he was bowed before, his eyes began to glow a horrible, deathly, dark yellow color.
The four figures, men, they appeared to be as well, hailed along with their leader. They were silenced immediately as their leader spoke in a deep, slightly raspy voice, "Lord Voldemort, honored I am to be in your presence."
Lord Voldemort smiled, "I am glad to see you came as requested, and delighted to see that you have brought your own additions to my ranks."
"Yes, my lord, my sons were eager to arrive and serve you." The man smirked.
The four men spoke in unison, "Our allegiance lies with our Master, Lord Voldemort!"
"You have done well, Shaman, for this, you will be rewarded," Voldemort said as he beckoned them closer, "But first, you must accept the mark."
The five men obeyed, and silently strode over to Voldemort.
"Kneel, and hold out your left forearm, as I brand you with the Dark Mark," He took the leader's forearm, and placing his wand upon his flesh, spoke the incantation.
"Morsmordore!"
The Shaman did not cringe or shriek with pain, instead, he let out a chilling laugh. Voldemort himself seemed surprised to see someone who could tolerate the pain of the Dark Mark.
One by one the rest of the men were marked; none screamed, for they seemed to be above such things. When the initiation to the ranks of Voldemort was complete, they retreated from the chamber, their dark cloaks billowing behind them.
Voldemort rose from his throne, and walked over to a large mirror standing a few feet from him. As he looked into it, he lowered his rood, revealing a white, snakelike face, with raging, red, catlike eyes that burned with a fierce intensity no other man's had ever achieved.
"You can't stop me now, Potter! I have a Shaman and four Elementals at my control! You will fall and cower at my might!" Voldemort laughed maniacally. "Not even the Dark can help you now…"
***
Harry's scar burned with a fierce sting. His eyelids felt like deadweights. He could not summon enough energy to open them.
"Dai nu sieno Nazril… Terenes don retradr…" There was a whisper in the wind. The language they spoke in was unknown to Harry, but it was haunting; a feeling of dread rose in the pit of his stomach from the words being spoken. "Scyi vazsn yri et calama… Scyi xan dreazt rnahd Nahechadt…"
There were shadows all around him. Shadows of what used to be men: along with some other creatures. They towered above him, speaking in forbidden languages that defiled nature and devoured flesh. They were circled around him now. Harry wanted them to stop. Their voices were making his head throb, it worsened with each second.
The vilest looking Shadowperson came forward. He was mere inches away from Harry. His Shadowfinger grazed Harry's scar as he examined him closely.
"Let the Dark control you… Let it rule your actions and thoughts… The Dark will stop Voldemort, for the Dark contains powers unimaginable to the sorcerer who deems himself a Dark Lord… Voldemort is unworthy of such a title… It is you who should be the Dark Lord!" The Shadowman said forcefully, "You have a magical capacity that surpasses everyone that has ever existed… You are the most powerful! Let the Dark control you!"
"No," said Harry defiantly. "I will not bow down to the Dark! I have seen what it does!"
"You are the host of the Dark and you will let it control you!" The shadowman shouted.
"NO!" roared Harry. His anger was building; he would need to release it soon-
"YOU WILL BE CONTROLLED!" The Shadowperson glared at Harry straight in the eye, before raising his hand and plunging it into Harry's chest. Harry gasped and his eyes widened as the pain of the Shadow entered his body. The Shadowman then walked into Harry, intertwining the evil forces of the Shadow with the Dark inside Harry. Harry felt immense pain as the Shadow began to take control of his body. But Harry resisted; he would not let them control him. He would fight, even if it meant suffering.
Noticing his resistance, the Shadow inside him called upon his companions, and one by one they entered Harry, intertwining their own darkness with Harry's. His resilience was failing; he could not stop the combined forces of all the Dark and Shadow.
They almost had him completely; he was falling to their combined powers. He was being forced to completely succumb to all that was Dark. He was being forced to become the Dark.
He had always had a bit of the Dark in him. From all the ill treatment and pain he had felt in his lifetime; the Dark had endured and grown. Now all the Darkness of the world was in him, fusing with his own evil: to create a beast of Shadow that knew no mercy, feared not death and pain.
The Dark had wrapped around his mind, locking Harry in, disabling him from doing anything.
He needed to escape; he would do anything to be free of this evil, this Dark. All power that he could summon from what was left in his free will, and tried to force the Dark away from him. He was able to push it away for just a second as magical energy burst forth from him that was completely unrelated to any of the Dark's evil magical powers.
Harry took his chance and forced himself to escape.
***
The torches in the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts were blown out as a wave of powerful magical energy surged forth from an occupant of one of the beds. The wards around the school were temporarily shut down as the huge amount of magical energy collided with them. A gust of wind blew throughout the castle.
Harry Potter's eyes opened. But they were not his normal, bright, emerald-green ones; they were glowing red, pupil-less, and glazed over.
Harry could see nothing except for tiny pinpricks of light from the reignited torches. The rest was darker; only outlines of large objects were visible. There were outlines of a few people. Harry could not think right and count them.
He heard a voice speaking that evil language again; it was coming from his right. He turned his head and saw nothing. The voice was above him; he looked up, nothing there. He knew where it was next before he heard it. There, at the end of the bed, was a figure, cloaked in black robes that made the darkness surrounding it look gray. He was speaking in that evil tongue, the one that physically and mentally hurt him when heard. He had a black staff as dark as his robes; with two jewels set in the top. The cloaked figure began to speak louder, and his staff began to glow, and Harry's head was thrown back hard against the headboard. He could feel something trailing down the back of his neck.
The figure raised his staff high, and was speaking more quickly, and as he did, Harry's heartbeat stopped, his throat constricted him so he could not breath, and his body froze.
The figure than spoke in English, "I will finish you off now…"
Just as he was about to deliver the final blow, one of the blurred, shadowy, outlined figures ran towards him and shook him. When they received no answer, they called out to someone, but Harry could not hear. He then saw someone: they were clear, not hidden in shadow like the others. He was a tall man, with a long silver beard, and blue eyes that were hidden behind half-moon spectacles. The man spoke with a fierce determination in his voice, "Be gone, Shaman of the Dark! Exorcism Expulsum!"
A bright light issued from Albus Dumbledore's wand, and the Shaman was pushed away from Harry. The Shaman then disappeared, not without a few parting curses in the foul language Harry had been hearing lately.
But as the Shaman was pushed away, so was Harry's mind. He was drifting on the edge. Again he was traveling through the mysteries of space and time as he heard people screaming his name.
A girl's voice was most prominent.
***
Every part of his body ached. His ribs hurt terribly, his arm hurt. Hell, everything was in pain. He could hear people muttering beside him, but he could not make out the words. His ears seemed not to be working properly.
Someone grabbed hold of his hand. He could barely find the energy to squeeze it back. A sudden, cold, wet sensation was felt on his forehead. He wondered what it was.
He could still hear distant voices murmuring in that accursed language inside his head. They would not leave.
Many different memories started to come back to him. His eyes bolted open as he remembered his fight with Voldemort. His breathing quickened, and every time he took in his breath it hurt his chest terribly. It felt as if he was being constricted.
He sat bolt upright as his fight came crystal clear back to him, but he regretted it later as a sharp pain shot through his chest.
"Lie back down Harry, or you'll hurt yourself even more," a calm voice spoke in his ear. Who was that? Harry glanced around the room. He was in the Hogwarts Hospital Wing. There, standing next to him was Dumbledore. Sitting in a chair next to him was Lupin. Behind Lupin was-
"Hermione? What are you doing here?"
"I came to visit. How are you feeling?" she asked concernedly.
"Not too good," Harry said truthfully.
"You gave her right a scare Harry, appearing in front of her house," said Dumbledore calmly, "She informed us right away."
"You mean I-I apparated in front of her house," Harry asked, bewildered.
"No, you teleported," Dumbledore said gently.
"Teleported?" Harry asked.
"That is something to be discussed at a later time, for now, you need some more rest," said Dumbledore kindly.
He left the room, leaving Harry with Lupin and Hermione. They both sat next to him as he closed his eyes. He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.
The nightmares awoke him…
***
Forty-six minutes, that's all the sleep I got! Having awoken nine hours previously Harry Potter was laying in his bed, gazing at the ceiling. He wasn't really looking at anything, he was just looking at the ceiling, and not taking anything in, as flashes of Sirius flew threw his brain. The nightmares this time had been about him. Harry felt guilty, remembering that he had not thought about Sirius for quite some time, well, considering the fact that Voldemort and the force that revealed itself as the Dark were tormenting him endlessly.
But now Harry was free to let himself wander in the past with Sirius. The tears that were falling down his face could explain the grief he was feeling. Crying did nothing to help, though, as terrible thoughts and emotions filled Harry to the brim. The fact that he, Harry, had brought about his Godfather's demise was not happy ground to tread. Albeit unintentionally, Harry still found himself guilty for bringing his Godfather to the place of his eventual doom.
The endless abyss that was Sirius could never be filled again. It was now two fathers that had died for him, along with a mother and a newfound friend. He could not help but feel that four murder counts were now placed upon him.
A snore came from a bed to Harry's right. Lupin had spent the night in the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts with Harry. Harry could help but feel grateful towards Lupin, for showing such care as to stay here. But then again, if Lupin cared for him too much, then Lupin would end up dying as well. Harry could not lose another fatherly figure. In truth, Lupin was like a father to Harry, for they had been friends before Harry had even known the truth about Sirius.
Sirius, how I wish you could come back. The melancholy of Sirius' untimely death made Harry want to crawl under his covers, curl up, and die. But Harry couldn't curl up, because the slightest movement to his torso sent a ripple of pain jolting through his body. His entire midsection was wrapped in bandages, along with his right arm, which had been scalded by extremely hot coffee by his Uncle Vernon. His midsection had been crushed by a giant snake, Naginni, the pet of the evil Lord Voldemort (dark wizard, desire to rule the world, determined to kill Harry).
Harry recalled what had happened that night, but to his surprise, most of the details Harry had forgotten. That was a good thing though, because he had the slight suspicion that he did not want to remember what had happened to him. Judging by his injuries, it had not been a pleasant experience.
A wave of fatigue washed over him, and he needed sleep. But he did not want sleep, because it was in his slumber that he was most vulnerable to Voldemort and the Dark, and that is how the nightmares came. He did not know which one he feared the most, Voldemort or the Dark. On one hand, Harry thought about Voldemort. Voldemort wanted him dead, and would stop at nothing to do so. The prophecy had condemned him to this fate. On the other hand, he had the Dark: The strange, mysterious force that plagued his mind, offering him power and lordship with no consequences. The latter seemed like the better choice, but Harry had a suspicion that the Dark was not all that it seemed.
A door opened and Harry watched as Madame Pompfrey marched over to his bed to examine him.
"Well Potter, how are you feeling this morning?" she said briskly, eyeing his pale and thin form.
"My ribs just hurt a little, along with my arm, but other than that I'm fine," Harry answered. In truth, every time he breathed in he felt a bit dizzy and his chest ached. But, he detested being in the Hospital Wing, considering he had been here so many times before in his years at Hogwarts, and was keen to leave already. "So when can I leave?"
"Leave? You're not going to be leaving for a long time, Potter! You're entire midsection was crushed, and you had traces of snake venom in your blood, along with serious scalding on your arm and some other bruises and lacerations. You're lucky to be alive!"
Overall the examination went pretty well, with Madame Pompfrey muttering under her breath at how much Harry got injured. He was quite relieved when she left so that he could relax. He had been given several potions to ease the pain and help the bones and internal organs damaged, heal.
Lupin had been awoken by Madame Pompfrey, and was now sitting by Harry's bedside, eyeing him with concern.
"Are you alright, Harry?" he asked.
"Yes," lied Harry. He did not need to worry Lupin; Lupin was already looking older than his age. He looked considerably paler and worn today, which had Harry guessing if the full moon was coming up.
"You're sure?" asked Lupin.
"Yes," Harry repeated. He didn't like lying to Lupin, but he did not want to talk about what was troubling him. Nobody else needed to be bothered by it. He could handle it on his own.
Lupin sat in silence for a long time, no doubt thinking about Sirius. He had also suffered from Harry's Godfather's death. Lupin had been best friends with Sirius since his school days, and had just been reunited with him two years previously. Lupin then got up and left, saying that he had to meet with the Headmaster today.
At around lunchtime, the door opened again, and a mass of bushy brown hair was all that Harry saw before it obscured his vision. She had him in an awkward sort of hug that made Harry's torso give a very unpleasant ache. She seemed to notice in an instant and let go.
"I'm so sorry Harry," she said quickly. Harry told her not to worry about it.
"How are you feeling?" she asked softly.
"I'm okay. Nothing Madame Pompfrey can't fix," he replied, giving her a small smile.
"You look tired," she said, eyeing the bags under his eyes and expression of fatigue.
"I haven't gotten much sleep this summer," he answered quietly.
"Is it because of the nightmares?" she asked gently.
"Yes," he whispered, almost inaudibly.
At the thought of the nightmares, horrible images flashed in front of his eyes. He remembered seeing all of these things while he was asleep. And then, as he looked at Hermione, he remembered one of his nightmares very clearly.
"There's no pulse Harry, she's gone," Neville said quietly.
"NO SHE ISN'T! SHE CAN'T BE GONE!" Harry roared, "She can't be dead, she just can't be…"
Black spots were appearing in front of his eyes. He couldn't breath; he didn't even realize it when his knees hit the ground. His vision was swirling, he was dizzy, and he felt like he was going to vomit. Over and over again he kept muttering disbelievingly, "She can't be dead… Please, no, don't let her be dead… She just can't be dead."
"Harry?" He was broken from his reminiscence at the sound of Hermione's voice. He looked up at her, and saw that her face was full of worry.
"Are you sure you're alright, Harry?" she asked apprehensively.
"Yes," he answered, "wait, no, I'm not."
"What's wrong? Do you need anything?" she asked gently.
"No, not really."
"Then what do you need?"
Harry thought for a second. "Hermione, do you ever have nightmares? Ones that are almost real?"
Hermione shook her head no.
"Oh," he whispered.
At that moment, his stomach gave a loud rumble, and Hermione couldn't resist a giggle.
"Someone's hungry," she smiled. "I'll go get us some food." She gazed at Harry for a few moments, blushed when she realized Harry was looking questioningly at her, and walked out the door.
She returned a few minutes later, her arms laden with all sorts of delicious, mouth-watering, Hogwarts food.
"You didn't have the house-elves make that, did you?" he asked with a grin on his face. "I thought you were against them working without pay?"
"Yeah, well, I can change my views if I want to," she said defensively, although she broke down into a smile as Harry laughed, and then she joined him.
When they were done, both of them were feeling quite content and relaxed. Hermione was sitting on the edge of Harry's bed, watching him as he leaned against the headboard and closed his eyes. He looked peaceful, for once today.
For a long time they just sat in silence, glad to be in each other's presence. Instinctively, Hermione moved a bit closer to Harry to get more comfortable. Absentmindedly, she began running her hand through his hair.
"Mmm, that feels good," he said. Hermione only smiled. She was glad she was able to make Harry at peace. Harry had never had an easy life, and it pained Hermione to see him when he looked so tired, and so…old. Not physically was he old, of course, but Hermione could see in his eyes that he had seen things that nobody should see, horrors that would haunt him forever.
"Hermione, how did you get here?" Harry asked suddenly. Her hand stopped its routine as Harry turned his head to face her.
Hermione looked thoughtful for a moment. "I came here by portkey. After you appeared on my front lawn, Dumbledore appeared moments later and came to collect you. How he knew where you had gone, I don't know, but after taking you here, he came back to me and asked if I wanted to come. I said `of course' and he gave me the portkey which brought me here."
She closed her eyes, and seemed to be remembering a rather painful memory.
"The portkey brought me here, into the Hospital Wing. The first thing I saw was you on this bed. You were covered in blood, and you're breathing was ragged, and you looked as if you were going to…" she trailed off as tears filled her eyes.
Harry sat up and wrapped Hermione in a hug, he could care less about the pain in his chest, all he wanted to do was comfort Hermione. He whispered soothing words in her ear, and was letting her cry onto his shoulder.
Soon his shirt was wet with Hermione's tears, but he didn't care. "I'm so sorry Harry," she sobbed. Harry just hushed her.
"What happened that night, Harry?" she sniffed. "What happened to you?"
Harry did not want to tell her the gruesome details; he did not want to tell her how he had almost been killed yet again, and how he had been tortured all summer long. He did not want to burden her with this.
"Harry?" Hermione pleaded.
"I was attacked by Voldemort," said Harry darkly, pausing at Hermione's gasp, "he possessed my uncle and tried to kill me."
Hermione clung to him even harder, as though afraid he might die any second.
"Is that all?" she asked.
"No," Harry answered, "there's more, a lot more. I don't want to burden you with it, though, it's too horrifying."
"You need to talk about it, and I'm here to listen," she answered.
Before Harry could say anything else, the door opened yet again, and Albus Dumbledore himself walked into the Hospital Wing, followed closely by Lupin.
At the sight of Dumbledore, a surge of anger rose within Harry. This man, this great wizard, had been withholding vital information from Harry, which had in turn led to his Godfather's death. Although Harry blamed himself mostly for Sirius' death, a small part of him blamed it on Dumbledore too.
Harry glared at the aged man as he took a seat next to Harry's bed. Dumbledore mentally winced at the anger and disgust Harry was expressing.
"Harry, I know you and I are not on the best of terms at the moment-"
"Damn right, we're not on the best of terms," Harry spat. Hermione and Lupin looked taken aback at the word choice Harry was throwing in Dumbledore's face. They both muttered things like "Harry!" and "Don't use that language!" Dumbledore, however, looked calm and deserving of Harry's detestation.
"Harry, I am sorry for what I have done, but please, can you at least find the kindness in your heart to forgive me. It is sometimes difficult for the old to remember how the young feel. I will try my best not to repeat my misdoings, but I cannot make a promise I am not fully sure I can keep."
Harry glared for a moment longer, and then his expression softened, a little bit. "What did you want?"
"There were a couple of things that I wanted to do, one of which was to ask you how you are feeling at the moment." Dumbledore said calmly.
"I'm fine," Harry said dismissively.
"That's good," Dumbledore said, "Once again you have thwarted Tom Riddle.
"Which brings me to my next item on my agenda. I would like, if you were willing, to recount what happened to you the night of Voldemort's attack. I understand completely if you decline."
Harry considered it for a moment, and then spoke, "Not today, a lot has happened and I'm too tired to do anything. Maybe some other day."
"That's just fine Harry. We can do this whenever you want. My third item was to answer any questions you have; any I can answer without lying to you."
"I have two questions: one, how did I escape from Voldemort?" Harry asked.
"I'm not entirely sure, but I believe that you teleported," Dumbledore looked worried as he said this, and Harry was about to ask him about it, when Dumbledore answered his unasked question. "Harry, I must stress this on you, do not try to teleport again. It is dangerous magic, and if not performed correctly, can have serious, if not fatal, consequences. Wizards who meddle with teleportation often end up in different places around the universe, and sometimes in different times, and even worse, in different dimensions. When using teleportation incorrectly, you could end up appearing inside anything, even, another person. Do not try to teleport."
Harry looked slightly sick at the thought of appearing inside of another person, and tried to concentrate on something else; like the tight grip Hermione had on his hand.
"Now, what was your other question, Harry?"
Harry lost his train of thought while concentrating on Hermione's hand, and had to be asked again.
"What? Oh. I was just wondering where I was going to spend the rest of my summer holidays, if I ever get out of this place. I don't want to go back to the Dursley's or Grimmauld Place, and I don't feel like being around so many people at the Burrow."
The familiar twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes shone again, and he glanced at Hermione and then Harry. Harry did not see Hermione blush.
"I think you ought to let Miss Granger answer that question," he said with a smile.
Harry turned to look at her, and saw the blush on her face. When she realized he was waiting for her to speak, her blush deepened. She became immensely interested in the tiles on the floor.
"I asked my parents if you could stay over the summer at my house, and they agreed, and so…if you want to…you know…come over and stay with us…" Hermione said sheepishly.
"I'd love to," Harry said, and Hermione looked up at him with a huge smile on her face, and Harry could not help but give her a wide grin as well.
***
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.
"You're 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.
***
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