Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I do not own the bits of lyrics I use. I make no money from anything I do with them.
A/N: This chapter certainly merits the 'R' rating, it might even border on the NC-17 rating, so please let me know if it's time for me to officially up the story rating. All four sections of this chapter are inter-related, and relatively important to the plot of the entire story. We learn the nature of the Elixir, we discover the trigger for that elixir, and how badly it went wrong. Not much action, but a lot of info, so pay attention! R & R & Enjoy!
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Chapter 19: Elixir of Love's Disaster
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The world was on fire,
no one could save me but you.
Strange, what desire will make foolish people do.
I never dreamed that I'd love somebody like you,
and I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you.
What a wicked game you play, to make me feel this way.
What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you.
What a wicked thing to say, you never felt this way.
What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you.
No, I don't want to fall in love.
[This love is only gonna break your heart.]
No, I don't want to fall in love,
[This love is only gonna break your heart.]
With you.
Excerpt from the song, 'Wicked Game' by Chris Issak.
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Ginny Weasley burst through the door into the kitchen of The Burrow and sat heavily into the chair next to her brother Fred. Her face was sweaty and heavily flushed. Her breath came in short, ragged pants, but not from the sprint from the makeshift Quidditch pitch, but from the 'activity' that she was involved in while riding her brother's broom.
She still felt the burning tension in her lower abdomen. No matter how many orgasms she experienced, it was never enough. She found that if she modified the Horton-Keitch braking charm on the broom, it caused an intense, shuddering vibration along the broomstick, which in turn sent an oscillating pulse grinding against her loins, and it was especially energetic when she removed the cushioning charm, causing the shaft to nestle directly against her crotch.
She quickly stuffed the food that was on the plate into her mouth with enough zeal to make her brother Ron envious. In less than a minute, she had the plate emptied before she abruptly stood from the table and raced up the stairs to her room as her brothers responded to a summons from the floo.
She was barely able to cast the locking and silencing charms on her door. The feeling was getting worse. It had been building all morning, and not even the 'magic broom ride,' as she had come to call it, could sate the furious desire that burned within her. She could feel her own juices seeping down her legs from under her hopelessly soaked knickers.
She took her wand and placed a dampening charm on her abdomen, hoping that this time it would do something, anything to quell the intense, ravenous need that burned within her. She tried numbing jinxes, which did absolutely nothing. She tried a muscle relaxation spell, which did even less. She tried stinging hexes on herself, hoping the pain would drive some of the erotic longing away, but only intensified her lustful passion. Ginny let out a frustrated growl as she seriously considered stunning herself to get at least some relief from the insatiable arousal.
Ginny was getting scared. She knew she couldn't keep fooling her family about what was happening to her, especially her mother. She was becoming reckless, forgetting to renew the silencing charms, carelessly rubbing herself against banisters and fences, anything that was about waist high to her. She hadn't had a minute's sleep in two days.
Suddenly, her eyes widened and she let out a choked gasp. She threw herself back on her bed, took hold of her wand and shoved the thick, smooth handle down the front of her knickers as her eyes thinned into narrow slits before they closed completely. In her mind 's eye, she saw a vision of her Harry, standing in a corridor at Hogwarts, in front of Hermione. With both of her small hands on the shaft of her wand, she began furiously rubbing the handle along her slit as she saw them move closer together. A low, gurgling moan escaped her throat as the first wave of a powerful orgasm burned within her belly. She arched her back as the fire exploded within her. Her pulled her knees together and up to her chest with her legs kicking and flailing in the air. She saw Hermione's eyes close as Harry's lips moved even closer to hers. A long, guttural hiss escaped Ginny's clenched teeth as she saw Harry press his lips against Hermione's.
Ginny froze and her eyes flew open. She took an incredibly deep shuddering breath, and then let out a horrible, blood-curdling scream. Pain as she'd never felt before in her life wracked her entire body and she curled up into a tight ball on top of her bed. She felt her limbs twitching in agony as her screams echoed throughout the now empty house.
It wasn't only physical pain she felt, but an emotional rending that seemed to shatter her heart. Terrible anguish and grief clawed at her mind, as if her whole family, all her friends, everyone she ever knew had been ripped from her life. An indescribable loneliness crashed down on her, causing her screaming to be punctuated by soul-rending sobs.
Ginny was not having a very good day.
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Harry, Ron and Hermione were led along a corridor by the tiny house-elf towards what they recognized as the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Ron kept glancing at Hermione, fully expecting her to try to convert the elf to the ways of S.P.E.W., but was mildly surprised when she just walked along quietly beside the now unrecognizable Harry.
They passed the door to the classroom and a short way past that they came to an non-descript door, unmarked except for a small engraving of a pair of crossed wands on the center of the jamb above the door. The elf instructed Harry to touch his wand to the crossed wands while thinking of a password. He did as he was told, and the engraving briefly flashed blue. The lock clicked and the door swung open, revealing a rather large living room. The elf also informed him that the unlocking of his quarters also gave him control of the classroom and office next door.
The windows on the far side of the room were hidden by heavy black drapes that blocked almost all of the early afternoon sunlight. On the right hand wall were two doors, separated by a massive fireplace. There were no paintings or any other decorations at all on the walls or shelves. A comfortable-looking overstuffed sofa sat before the fireplace, with a pair of tall, padded wing-backed chairs on either side of it. Between the windows on the far side of the room sat a large writing desk, covered with numerous rolls of dusty parchment. A huge bookshelf took up the space from floor to ceiling along entire left-hand wall, the sight of which caused an involuntary squeak of excitement from Hermione. This, in turn caused a pained groan from Ron and an amused smirk from Harry.
"This looks comfortable…" said Hermione as she scanned the drab looking room, "a bit gloomy, but comfortable. It's almost as if…"
When Hermione abruptly stopped, Harry glanced at her and saw her looking at him with a pained expression. It suddenly struck him that this was probably Snape's room from the previous term.
Ron looked between the two and upon seeing their disturbed expressions, asked, "What's wrong?"
"This was Snape's quarters," answered Harry, "He didn't have a chance to retrieve his things before he fled... that night."
The house-elf who accompanied them looked unusually flustered and started speaking hastily, "Taggy is sorry, Perfessor Buck. Taggy will cleans the room right away!"
Harry halted the little elf with his hand, "That's okay, Taggy. Leave the room as it is. I'd like to look through whatever's here. Why don't you escort my friends here to their dorm, then if you could, send me up a sandwich or something? I'm starved!" Then, as almost an afterthought, he said to Taggy, "and maybe a new set of sheets for the bed?"
The elf cautiously nodded and waited outside the door for Ron and Hermione. The trio made a quick inspection of the remaining rooms, the bedroom and the bathroom, both of which looked just as morbid as the sitting room, but found nothing out of the ordinary. A few times during the cursory search, Harry noticed Hermione giving him odd glances when she thought he wasn't looking and thought that perhaps she didn't much care for his new appearance.
Harry sent Ron and Hermione to settle into their rooms, saying he was tired and desperately needed a shower and a nap. Of course, once in the bathroom, the unappealing thought occurred to him that Snape might have used the towels that were folded there. That notion vanished when he remembered the constant greasy state of Snape's hair, telling him that the ex-professor probably had never set foot in the shower.
When he stepped out of the shower, he was slightly startled when he caught his own reflection in the mirror and couldn't help but to be impressed with the job McGonagall did on him. Human Transfiguration, as he learned in her class, was very difficult and dangerous, which is why there are so few Metamorphmagi in the world who aren't naturally gifted like Tonks. He briefly wondered if his relatively rare eye colouring would lead to anyone recognizing him.
By the time he was through in the bathroom, he saw that the bed linens had already been changed and there was a tray with enough sandwiches to feed the entire Gryffindor house, Ron included. He silently thanked the elf as he grabbed two sandwiches, sat on his bed and quietly ate as he pondered recent events.
The thing that weighed heaviest on his mind wasn't the teaching position he was offered, Kotone's injury, the horror of what happened at the orphanage, nor was it the discovery of a possible horcrux in Diagon Alley. It was the fact that he tried to kiss Hermione.
What bothered him the most about the ill-fated kiss was the fact that he didn't feel how he assumed he would feel after kissing a girl. Up until the moment their lips touched, he felt the butterflies in his stomach, he felt the desire for her burning within his chest and the light-headed feeling that fogged his mind. He had marveled at the look of passion in her eyes, the flush that made her face positively glow with prurience. He felt her love for him radiating from her, and at that moment, he couldn't deny his love for her.
Now, strangely enough, he felt nothing. No love, no lust… nothing but an unpleasant empty feeling, like part of his insides had been removed. What had happened in that corridor? Did Hermione do something when she realized that he was trying to kiss her? Did he do something subconsciously? He knew he still cared about her, but the dull ache in his chest told him that he'd lost her love before he'd even felt it fully.
When he finished eating, he slid beneath the covers and hoped that he could get some desperately needed sleep.
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When Taggy escorted them into the Head's common room, Ron excitedly rushed to his bedroom, which was the size of the entire dorm that he shared with the other sixth-year Gryffindor boys. Hermione sat quietly on the large sofa in the common room, staring into the cold fireplace and nervously sucking on her lower lip. She heard Ron talk the elf into bringing them some food.
After the elf disappeared with a pop, Hermione quietly said, "The book is hidden in the Slytherin girls' dorms. Will you come with me to look for it?"
It took a moment of thought before Ron realized exactly which book she was talking about, "The book that potion page is from? How do you know?"
Hermione was still staring blankly into the empty fireplace, "We met Daphne Greengrass in the hospital wing. She said that she convinced a Hufflepuff, Penni Pinder, to give the page to Ginny saying it was a mild love potion. It must have been at least two years ago, because Penni graduated at the end of our fifth year"
By the time the elf returned with a huge tray of food Ron was feeling quite ill, so much so that he just thanked the elf, but left the food untouched. He knew that if the Slytherins had anything to do with what was happening, it was probably conceived by Voldemort. After the elf left, he strode to the entrance and held the door open, saying, "No time like the present."
Hermione let out a pained groan as she rose from the sofa, still feeling the injuries from being hurled down the second-floor corridor, and followed him from their common room. Several minutes later, they found themselves in the dungeons standing before a blank stretch of wall that Ron remembered from his visit there while polyjuiced with Harry.
"The entrance is here, but how do we get in without a password?"
Hermione let out an aggravated sigh, "Ronald, we're the Head students now. We don't need a password." She placed her hand on the wall and the hidden door slid open.
When Hermione entered the empty common room, she was surprised to find that it was nothing like the dank, dreary dungeon room she had imagined. The room was large, easily twice the size of the Gryffindor common room, with a relatively high ceiling, paneled in a dark mahogany wood which were lined with silver and green banners. Along the sides of the walls sat many small, sunken conversation nooks that would provide privacy for any group that huddled into one. There were many paintings along the walls, most of which featured images of rather dark looking witches and wizards, bleak castle keeps, and dismal, cheerless landscapes.
A very large fireplace embellished with carvings of serpents sat in the center of the wall opposite the entrance. There were two doors, one on each side of the fireplace, which they assumed led to the boys and girls dormitory rooms. Hermione walked up to the right hand door and swung it open, revealing a hewn-stone passage with doors evenly spaced on both sides. She walked to the first set of doors and read the bronze plated fixed above each door, the right one reading 'Seventh Year Girls' and the left reading 'Sixth Year Girls.'
Hermione put her hand on the handle to the sixth year dorm and glanced beside her as she prepared to open the door, only to find that Ron wasn't with her. She looked back towards the common room and saw him standing nervously just outside of the doorway.
"Ron? Are you coming?"
"I don't think so," he said meekly as his eyes scanned the walls of the corridor, "You know what happens when boys try to get into the girls' dorms. In ours, you just slide down a ramp, who knows what the Slytherin penalty is."
"Well," said Hermione in an annoyed hiss, "If you would have ever bothered to read Hogwarts: A History, you'd know that the protection was broken over two hundred years ago, and none of the Heads of House since has felt it necessary to reestablish it. Now, come on!"
After only a few moments of hesitation, Ron cautiously made his way down the passage to Hermione. She rolled her eyes as she opened the door and stepped into the large, cut-stone chamber. Six beds were lined along the opposite wall, all of which had been stripped of their bed clothing, leaving only the bare mattresses and pillows on the four-poster frames.
"Daphne said it's hidden in a secret compartment in the wall behind Pansy Parkinson's bed," said Hermione as she limped along, examining each bed closely.
"How do we tell which one?"
Hermione stopped at the fourth bed, and Ron saw a disgusted frown cross her face as she said, "This is the one. Help me check the wall, but be careful, knowing the Slytherins, it's probably trapped."
"How do you know this is her bed?"
"Look at the mattress, Ronald," she said simply as she studied the wall, "Notice the stains? Let's just say that Pansy isn't very concerned with hygiene, nor is she very choosy about with whom she shares her bed, now, help me look."
Ron looked mildly shocked as he looked over the many yellowing spots, and one rather large brown stain that he guessed was dried blood. He wore a horrified expression as he tore his eyes away from the mattress to help study the wall.
Seeing nothing obvious about the wall, Hermione drew her wand and passed it broadly over the stones and incanted, "Patesco."
Nothing happened. She tried a different spell, "Expositus," with the same negative result. She furrowed her brows in thought for a moment, wondering if she had guessed the wrong bed. She let out a sigh and said, "It looks like I'll have to do it the hard way.
She started with the top stone nearest the left of the bed, tapping it with her wand while encanting, "Produxi Latebram." She quickly went from stone to stone, repeating the spell on each one until they had to move the bed to get to the stones nearest the floor.
When she reached the middle stone in the bottom-most row, the spell caused it to glow red. Without a pause, she waved her wand across the stone and said, "Specialis Revelio."
An arithmantic description of a stunning hex was displayed on the stone in smoky red characters. Hermione smiled to herself as she removed the simple trap with a quick "Dolus Exarmo," before casting "Alohomora," which caused the stone to pop out slightly from the wall.
Ron easily slid the stone out while Hermione lit the tip of her wand and looked in. Inside of the hole, she saw three bottles of firewhiskey, something that appeared to be a soiled and crusty artificial penis, and a stack of wizard photos, the topmost one showed Pansy engaged in a very lewd activity with Malfoy and Goyle. Resting in the very back of the hole she saw a very old book. After making sure there were no other traps or spells, she reached in and with a shaking hand, withdrew the aged tome.
She was about to tell Ron to replace the stone when an evil smirk crossed her face. She quickly scooped up the stack of photos and shoved them in her pocket. They replaced the stone and the bed to their original positions, leaving the room exactly as they found it before rushing back to their own common room.
Having retrieved the book with no major complication, Ron's appetite returned in full force. He grabbed a pair of sandwiches and began greedily eating while Hermione sat heavily into the sofa, withdrew the torn page from her pocket, and looked the book over for the first time.
The book's title was 'Obligations and Responsibilities of the Unsoiled: A Guide for the Preservation of Line Purity,' by Ichabod Istharmus MacDermott. Even though she was anxious to get to the section from which the page was taken, she knew through experience that in order to fully understand the context, she would have to read the entire book. She sat silently as she carefully scanned each page. The slight frown that she showed when she began reading deepened with every turn of the page.
She quickly found that the book was about wizard bloodlines and the importance of keeping pureblood pure. The author of the book didn't spare the use of any offensive terminology, in fact, in the preface of the book was a list of derogatory terms for muggles and muggle-borns, most of which she'd never heard before. She read through chapters with titles such as 'The Superiority of the Unsoiled: Why purebloods deserve power,' 'Classification of Bloodlines: How pure are you?' and 'Encouraging Discouragement: Do your children really understand that they're superior?' In each chapter were helpful spells and potions for determining how pure a suitor's blood is, guidelines for tracing family histories, suggestions for the heads of families about familial ground rules and how to enforce them, along with a very bigoted diatribe on the way 'dirt-veined muggles, mudblood feculence, abominable half-bloods and treasonous blood-traitors' should be treated.
She came to a section titled, 'Cleansing the Filth: What to do when your line is threatened.' There she read a long treatise on the importance of quickly and overwhelmingly stopping what the book calls 'unthinkable,' the mating of a pureblood with an underclass. There were lists of rather dark spells, potions and rituals designed to terminate pregnancy, sterilize any suitors who aren't pureblood, or to eliminate the hormonal lust in adolescent children.
"Ron, I've found it! The place where the page was torn from."
Ron walked up behind the sofa and looked over her shoulder. The torn page matched perfectly with the torn edge that was still fastened to the binding. The page before explained what to do when your pureblood child has fallen in love with an underclass. It made it quite clear that no measure was too strong when faced with the destruction of a bloodline by the sullying of the purity. It also made note on the importance of the parents' roles in the execution of the following ritual. For a male child, the mother must perform the ritual, for a female, the father must execute the spell.
She replaced the torn page into the book and glanced over the now familiar text.
'Distraho Careo Diligo Venenum,' she thought to herself, 'distraho is Latin for 'estrange,' careo means 'to be deprived of,' but can also mean 'to feel the want of.' I know that diligo can mean either 'love' or 'highly prized,' and venenum means potion… but could also mean 'poison!'
"Elixir of Love's Distraction' my arse!" she muttered to herself, believing that she was beginning to realize what was happening to Harry and her, and the mistake that Ginny had made.
Effects:
Subject- will begin to feel animosity towards Object within 30 days of exposure, and at the same time acquire a certain degree of awareness for the wearer. Feelings of abandonment from the object will take hold after 120 days. After 200 days, object should be totally disregarded by the subject while attention should be being paid to the wearer to the point of distraction.
Object- will begin to feel jealousy of subject within 40 days of exposure. After 100 days, object should begin to actively avoid, if not be repulsed by the subject. After 150 days, the object should be actively seeking to sever all relations with the subject. There should be no discernable reaction between the object and the wearer.
Wearer- should see an increased level of attentiveness from the subject within 40 days. Effects should remain constant from day 40 to day 300, after which the effect will slowly, but steadily increase to the point where the subject's true feelings are converted to the wearer's advantage.
"Attentiveness…" she said thoughtfully, "To the wearer's advantage… the advantage would be that the child would pay more attention to the parent and start to ignore the 'filth-vein.' Ron, this isn't a 'home-wrecker' spell! It's not designed to steal someone away, it's meant for a parents to keep non-purebloods from marrying into pureblood families!"
Ron gave a puzzled frown, "But Harry's not a pureblood, he's a half-blood."
"Yes we know that, but Ginny thought this was a love potion, she had no idea it was a bloodline preservation ritual!"
Hermione went on the read the end of the torn page, 'The full effects should be realized within 400 days. After the initial exposure, the re-application of the elixir should…'
She continued on to the following page, "only be necessary if the child has had sexual relations with the filth before the initial exposure, at which time the child must be physically kept from seeing the dirt-vein, and kept with the respective parent for six weeks before the re-application."
"The parent will feel when the first kiss after the initial exposure occurs. Re-application must be introduced within the following thirty hours after the 'first kiss' for the spell to be finalized. The potion phase of the ritual must be disposed of after six weeks, after which the potion becomes unstable, and results unpredictable. If there has been no sexual contact, re-application must never be attempted due to the change in hormonal balance that occurs after the loss of virginity would cause unforeseeable adverse effects. If the child begins courting a new dirt-vein, a new preparation must obviously be prepared. The effects are permanent, as they break the soul-bond between the lovers and re-creates the familial bond between parent and child. This ritual can be broken by the parent, but honestly, why would any respectable pureblood family want to do that?"
Hermione turned to Ron, "Have you ever seen Harry snog Ginny?"
A brief flush of pink tinged the tips of Ron's ears as he answered, "Yeah, I've seen him kiss her a few times, always turned my stomach, though…"
"No, I mean have you ever seen him make out with Ginny? You know, full tongue, kissing her neck, feeling her…"
"No!" interrupted Ron with a yell, the flush that began on his ears had now washed over his entire face, "and I don't think I'd want to, either."
"Neither have I. Do you think you can ask him? You know, man to man? It would be terribly awkward if I were to ask him a question like that, but I'm pretty sure I know the answer already."
"I don't know if I can, a bloke feeling up my sister is something I try to keep out of my mind, ya know? Why do you need to know that anyway?"
"I'd bet my last knut that he hasn't. This spell created a familial bond between Ginny and Harry. If she really did use this on him, he more than likely felt a love as he would towards a mother, not a girlfriend. I'm sure Harry would have a hard time distinguishing between the two initially, seeing that he never knew either before, but think about it, do you think that you could work up the nerve to snog your own mother?"
The red in Ron's face was instantly replaced with an ashen-green, "Never in a million years."
"Exactly! That's why I think that the most Harry could consciously do with Ginny would be somewhat chaste. Ginny probably thought Harry was being a gentleman or something noble like that. She even said that when they broke up… she said Harry was doing it for a 'silly, noble reason.'
"Well, I'll ask him, but don't blame me if I hex him up a bit if he tells me he's done anything more than kiss her."
Hermione glanced at the tray of food longingly, but the exhaustion of the morning's events had finally caught up with her, "Listen, we both better get some sleep," said Hermione as she closed the book, tucked it under her arm and rose from the sofa, "If I'm not here when you wake up, I'll be with Harry."
As Ron grabbed yet another sandwich, he couldn't help but to notice Hermione's shapely arse as she walked to her bedroom. It was smaller than Luna's wide, heart-shaped butt, but still pleasant to look at, even through her somewhat loose-fitting sweatpants.
For the briefest moment, he felt a pang of jealousy, but then the thought of what Harry was going through was enough for him to regret what he was feeling immediately. He had no claim to her. He had his chance and blew it, even though he knew it was a sham from the beginning. He grabbed another two sandwiches and walked to his bedroom with his thoughts drifting to the recent memory of Luna Lovegood's red spandex shorts flowing through his mind
In the other bedroom, Hermione, freshly showered, was sitting naked on her bed, wand in hand and examining the bluish-purple bruise that ran along her right side from her rib-cage to her upper thigh. She knew something was wrong, not with the 'minor' injury that she was nursing at the moment, but with a much more painful one. At first, she thought it was the disorientation from being violently thrown down a corridor, but it soon became clear to her that after that kiss, something was ripped from her. Something that she felt, to the deepest part of her soul, was irreplaceable.
She fully realized it while in Professor McGonagall's office. The desire, the intense, burning passion she had felt for Harry the moment before they kissed had disappeared. She remembered seeing, as that 'force' thrust them apart, what appeared to be an ethereal, flowing ribbon that connected Harry to her. As if in slow-motion, she saw that ribbon of light stretch and break as they were pushed apart.
She suspected that Harry also felt what she was feeling, and what she wasn't feeling. The only thing that kept her from breaking down completely was the line in the book, 'Re-application must be introduced within the following thirty hours after the 'first kiss' for the spell to be finalized.' If Ginny really didn't have any more of that elixir, there was hope.
She finished casting what limited healing charms she knew on her bruised hip and cracked ribs. She made a mental note to talk to Madam Pomfrey about learning a few of the more advanced healing techniques, knowing that they would be useful with what they needed to do. She didn't bother with a glamour charm, figuring that the chances of Harry wanting to see her again in her current state of undress was pretty slim. She laid back on her bed, drew the sheets over herself before she settled back into her pillow and closed her eyes.
A single tear leaked from the corner of her eye as sleep took her.
-----~-----
Harry was walking down the hallway of an upper floor of Twelve Grimmauld Place. With every step he took, little puffs of dust rose from his feet from the dirty runner carpet. The house was deathly quiet, except for a distant dripping of water. For some reason, he had to find the source of this drip. He could see the staircase in front of him, but with each step that he took, the stairway seemed to get further away.
He heard a sultry giggle from behind him. He knew it was Hermione's voice, but he questioned that fact because he'd never heard Hermione giggle. He spun around and saw a light coming from beneath the door of Mrs. Black's bedroom, the same filthy room that they kept Buckbeak the Hippogriff in two years before. He slowly and quietly made his way to the door, laid his hand on the serpentine knob and cautiously opened it.
A soft, golden glow emanated from inside the room. Hermione was kneeling in the now strangely familiar giant clamshell. She had her face buried in her hands while her shoulders heaved as she sobbed. She lifted her tear-streaked face from her hands and looked directly at him. He saw her lean forward, reaching a trembling hand out to him with a pleading look on her anguished face. She was saying something to him, pleading with him, but for what, he couldn't tell. No sound at all escaped the room, all he could hear was that faint, distant dripping.
As he closed the door, he saw her face contort and cry out to him. He vaguely wondered what Hermione was going on about, but still, the door soundlessly clicked shut, plunging the hallway into complete darkness.
He could see nothing in the darkness, even the light that came from beneath the door was gone. He did have the strange sensation that something light and soft was gently resting on his chest, like a cloak or blanket. He opened his eyes, which surprised him because he didn't realize he had closed them. He saw that he was no longer in a familiar place, not his dirty, little room with broken furniture, not the clean, antiseptic room of St. Mungo's Hospital.
He found that he was lying in a bed in some large chamber. He felt a surge of panic rise inside of him as he heard pained moans among the whispering voices that came from the other side of a curtain that circled the bed.
He stood from the mattress and felt his head spin. It was an unusually long drop from the bed before his feet hit the floor, and adding to his confusion, he found that all he was dressed in was a thin, white nightgown.
He peeked out through the curtains and saw, in a bed that was next to his, a girl who's face appeared to be brutally beaten. Large cuts peppered her face, her lip was grotesquely torn and her eyes were nearly swollen shut. Her eyes weren't completely swollen shut, because the moment she saw him, she let out a loud, horrified scream.
The panic he felt intensified. He dashed out from between the beds, and noticed the chamber that he was in was lined with a score of other beds, all occupied by people who were now looking at him with faces ranging from terror to rage. More than one of the people raised their wands and pointed them at him.
With the panic, fuelled by adrenaline, he made a dash to the double-doors on the far side of the chamber, dodging hexes and curses as he ran. It only took him a moment to make it to the doors, and he threw himself through them as he heard the hexes impact the door.
As he fled down the stairs his only thought was that he had to find his lion-brother. He would know what to do. He promised to protect him. He heard shouts coming from up the stairway, a woman's voice calling to him. How did they know his name?
Doors and passages blurred past him as he raced along, using his hands and feet for propulsion. He found another, wider staircase leading down to a large, empty hall, lined with long tables and dimly illuminated by the early-evening sky that he could see through the apparently glass-lined roof. There was a raised dais at the back of the hall with a single, long table and a huge golden throne placed in the center. With another burst of speed, he sped across the hall, hid himself behind the large throne and then closed his eyes and listened.
He heard an unfamiliar name being repeated, 'Professor Buck… Professor Buck! Oh, for Merlin's sake, Harry Potter!"
He opened his eyes and found that he was still in his quarters. His heart was still beating wildly from the panic he felt in his dream. From out in his sitting room he heard McGonagall's urgent voice, "Mr. Potter!"
He climbed from his and entered the sitting room, completely forgetting that he was only wearing his boxers. He kneeled into the floo and answered her, "I'm sorry, Professor, I was sleeping, what's the matter?"
McGonagall stared out of the floo, visibly flustered, but not from his state of undress, "Harry? What happened?"
He looked questioningly at the Headmistress's face, then realized that he was only in his underwear. He visibly reddened and stammered out an apology, "I'm so sorry, I'll get dressed…"
"No, Potter, What happened to you? What did you do?"
"I was sleeping, you just surprised me and…"
"Harry," interrupted McGonagall, "Look in your mirror!"
Harry stood, walked into his bathroom and looked at his reflection in the mirror.
'What's the problem?' he thought to himself as he studied his reflection, 'I look the same as I always… Bloody Hell!'
He realized that the face that was looking back at him was of Harry Potter, not of Professor Buck. He raced back to the floo and said, "Honestly, Professor, I didn't do anything! I just took a shower and went to bed!"
"Well, we'll worry about that later," said McGonagall, "Right now we have a problem. It seems that our Miss Oota has awoke prematurely and startled a few of our… 'guests' in the hospital wing. She has fled the infirmary and is somewhere in the castle."
Harry sighed, realizing what had happened in his dream was what was happening to Kotone, "Don't worry, Professor, I think I know where she is. I'll get dressed and get her. Would it be alright if I bring her back here instead of the infirmary, I have a feeling the other 'guests' wouldn't be welcoming her back with open arms."
He noticed a flicker of doubt in McGonagall's eyes. With an annoyed edge to his voice, he said, "You aren't going to tell me that you believe the rot that The Prophet printed about her being my girlfriend, are you?"
No, of course not, Potter… it's just that any student staying in a professor's living quarters, it gives the appearance…"
If Harry had any doubts before about adopting Kotone, they vanished that instant, "Professor, I was dead serious about adopting that girl. As soon as I come of age, I'm going to find a way to make it happen. I saw what happened in the infirmary. I can't explain how, but if she'd going to be attacked solely on the way she looks, how do you think it will be for her once school starts? I won't stand for it. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get dressed. I have a scared little girl to find."
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