Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters or story, just this overly-confusing and convoluted plot that very few people seem to be enjoying, but I'll keep plugging away! I have nothing to do with the snippets of lyrics found here, either.
A/N: Here we go again! If you hated Vernon before, he's going to fly to the top of your 'Who I want To Kill Today' list! Some of you people are going to KILL me over what Harry finds out in this chappie! Harry's also going to become aware of certain memories he had mysteriously lost at some time. He still has some uncontrollable urges to become annoyed with Hermione, but it looks as though he's fighting it, and this chapter gives him a bit more ammo to do it. Ron's still ticked off about Harry calling out Hermione's name, and about Hermione's recent fanatic behavior over Harry. Kotone makes another short appearance, and good ol' Tommy makes his presence known. Oh, and another easy song here, and it fits so well.
Chapter 8: Lies, Memories and Souls
-----~-----
Getting edgy all the time,
There's someone around me just a step behind.
It's kinda scary, the shape I'm in,
the walls are shakin' and they're closing in.
Too fast or a bit too slow,
I'm paranoid of people and it's starting to show.
One guy that I can't shake
Over my shoulder is a big mistake.
Sitting on the bed or lying wide awake,
there's demons in my head, and it's more than I can take.
I think I'm on a roll, but I think it's kinda weak
saying all I know is,
'I gotta get away from me.'
-----~-----
The morning after Harry awoke, he had a long discussion with Healer Aubrey about his condition. He was told all that had happened to him while he was unconscious, the periodic violent fits he would have between the deathly stillness, how he was found in a muggle hospital and how none of the healers that were summoned from around the world had been able to determine what exactly was wrong with him.. He was also told who had brought him out of his coma and how. He still looked deathly ill that morning, but they assured him after a few restorative draughts, he would look and feel has healthy as ever in a few days, as if he hadn't been unconscious for nearly an entire month. They wanted to keep him for a few more days anyway to try to find out the cause of his mysterious illness.
After his conversation with the healer, there came a stream of visitors that had been waiting to see him, all of whom were warned that they only had a few minutes each to visit. First was the sobbing pair of Weasley women, Molly and Ginny, neither of whom could get out a full sentence between their hugging and crying.
At first, Harry felt awkward in the presence of the weeping women, but once he looked into Ginny's eyes and saw that her emotions appeared a bit forced, he was put on the defensive and kept a close eye on her reactions. She seemed to be unusually clingy, she sat very close to him on the bed as soon as she entered the room and made every effort to make as much physical contact as she could discreetly manage. She sat cross-legged next to him on his bed so that her hip pressed firmly against his thigh and her crooked leg nearly rested on his hip, as well as taking every opportunity to gently pat his hand or lightly stroke his arm under the pretense of concern for his well-being, all of which made him oddly uncomfortable. To the casual observer, it all appeared innocent enough, but Harry soon realized that Ginny's actions were a cloaked attempt to gauge his feelings toward her.
She didn't let out any indication of what she was truly sensing, but she certainly didn't like the 'vibes' she was getting from him. When Harry asked if Ron and Hermione were waiting to see him, she took that opportunity to let a little bombshell drop.
"Oh, yes, they're both here." She said casually, "They're probably out in the hallway snogging right now… oops, did I let that slip out? They didn't want anyone to know yet…" She didn't know whether to smile or cringe at his reaction. It was mildly amusing to her to see the shock briefly flash across his face, but it also confirmed her darkest fear. 'It' wasn't working anymore. She inwardly cursed to herself for not dabbing on a dose of 'perfume' before she came for the visit.
As she went on about how inseparable Ron and Hermione were, she surreptitiously studied his reactions to every word, movement and touch right up until the time came where they had to leave. She still didn't like what she saw, but hopefully the seeds she planted in his mind would take root and he'd realize exactly what was best for him, namely, her. For some reason that he couldn't quite bring to the front of his mind, he was relieved to see them both walk out of the door.
Nobody seemed to notice the satisfied smirk Ginny wore as she exited the room.
His two best friends, who were acting far from how he would have expected, entered as the Weasley women were leaving. Hermione, while not openly sobbing, was very nervous and looked as if she were ready to break down at any given moment. Harry could instantly tell by her expression that at least her emotions were genuine. She repeatedly apologized to him for saying the things she did at Kings Cross, and for letting him go on his own. He knew she felt guilty for leaving the way she did, and probably felt responsible for what happened to him since then, but he was still surprised at her current behavior, because leaving was what he wanted her to do, only not exactly under the circumstance that they parted.
He found himself becoming slightly annoyed at Hermione as she asked him 'Are you okay?' for the seventh time in as many minutes, but the honest concern she was showing gave him a sort of fuzzy feeling in the pit of his stomach. This sensation of being both annoyed and comforted at the same time was also surprising to him.
He seemed to remember having that same sort of 'comforted' feeling around her a few years before. He lost track of the conversation as certain memories of that feeling came unbidden to the front of his mind in a very short amount of time. Memories that, until that moment, he didn't realize he had.
'…You're a great wizard…' '…Books and Cleverness …' '…Friendship and bravery and…'
The first true hug he ever remembered receiving in his life…
'A frozen figure lying on the bed in the Hogwarts infirmary…'
'The newly un-petrified young witch running the length of the Great Hall, yelling 'You solved it! You solved it!...''
'The body pressed against him while riding Buckbeak…'
Feeling the spot on his cheek where he received his first meaningful kiss…
'The girl hugging him while squealing in delight, 'You've got it! I'm so proud of you, the Reductor Curse is a very difficult spell!'
'Hermione descending the staircase in the entrance hall at the Yule Ball...'
'His vision completely blocked by a large quantity of very bushy hair, her arms wrapped around him after the incredibly difficult summer of the Dursleys and dementors...'
He felt slightly nauseous as more and more of the forgotten memories quickly broke through the surface and forced their way into his consciousness, each giving him that same fluttery feeling in his stomach.
'The fallen witch lying on the floor in the Department of Mysteries…'
Then something occurred to Harry after that last memory emerged, why hadn't he experienced that same feeling since then? Was it because he almost got her killed? How could he have forgotten most of those specific memories? Where had all the animosity between them come from? What had happened to him? What had happened to them?
Then the words Ginny said minutes before came to his mind, 'They're probably out in the hallway snogging right now.' He couldn't prevent the frown from appearing on his face as he wondered why that notion disturbed him so much.
At that moment, Hermione noticed a shadow pass over Harry's face as she was telling him about her finding his broken glasses and the blood in the room at the Leaky Cauldron. "Are you sure you're okay, Harry?" she asked with true concern for the eighth time, breaking him out of his internal pondering.
He automatically responded for the eighth time, "I'm fine," but his eyes showed that he clearly didn't mean it this time. Hermione noticed his troubled expression, but didn't push the issue.
"Did they tell you what woke you?" asked Hermione hesitantly, afraid to meet his eyes.
"Yes, the healer told me that you used your patronus. How did you know that would work?"
"Do you remember that boy you were talking to, Barnabas Windon? He was visiting here and asked about having you visit that …um, 'girl…' you met at King's Cross Station, Kotone. She was brought here when you first went missing. When I visited her yesterday, she… well, she said some very odd things, about how she was protecting you and 'holding your soul in place.' When she called you 'the stag' and told me that you were in danger and needed my 'otter', well, she obviously meant my patronus. She just seemed so sincere and sure, she just seemed to know." Hermione conveniently left out the bit about her being his 'mate,' the idea of which still gave her goosebumps.
There were several times during the conversation where Hermione looked as if she were dying to ask something of him, but she always seemed to avoid it after fighting some sort of internal battle.
Ron's attitude throughout the entire visit surprised, and disturbed him more than Hermione's unusual anxiety. He was much quieter than Harry had ever seen him. He seemed detached while standing at his bedside, and a hint of iciness could be heard in his voice whenever he spoke, which wasn't very often. He almost appeared to be angry about something. Ron's eyes seemed to be flicking back and forth between Hermione and himself, as if he expected some 'out of the ordinary' action to occur. He thought that maybe Ron expected him to start yelling at her at any given moment, or vice-versa. In any case, it was an uncomfortable visit to say the least.
After they left, Remus and Tonks entered, both looking hesitant at Harry as he lay in the bed with a clearly preoccupied look about him. Tonks' hair was black as jet, her eyes were a strange pale blue, and the features on her face made her look more like a sixteen-year-old than the twenty-two years that she actually was. She, much like Hermione was, seemed to be on the verge of tears. Remus looked like… well, Remus. He still looked pale and thin, with the same drawn and tortured air about him that was an effect of his lycanthropy.
Most of the previous conversations were the same… 'We're glad you're better,' 'We were worried,' 'We're sorry you missed Bill's wedding,' and 'You'll be out of here soon.' Only Remus had something different to say.
"As soon as you're well enough, we have to move you out of here. This isn't exactly the safest place for you."
"I know, I hope someone got my things out of the Leaky Cauldron." Harry's face dropped, "I suppose Grimmauld Place? " He still felt reluctant to revisit all of the memories that Grimmauld Place held.
Remus shook his head, "No I'm afraid we had to abandon that building, with the death of Dumbledore, the old wards have dropped and the Fidelis is broken, or at least we think it is, but we're not about to take chances. All of your things are stored in that locker over there in the corner, and Hedwig is at the Granger's."
"Well, I can't very well go to the Dursleys, now can I? The fat, thieving tosser just up and moved away, but I suppose you already know that."
Remus caught the 'thieving' comment, but didn't really understand it. "Yes, we found out about the Dursleys moving away from Privet Drive. Your Aunt Petunia is the one who informed us that you were in a muggle hospital, although we haven't been able to get in touch with her again, nor have we found where the family had moved to."
"She informed you? How did she know I was in a hospital?" asked Harry angrily.
"It seems that the hospital was trying to find out who you were, since you weren't carrying any identification. They printed your picture all over England in the muggle newspapers. Your aunt saw it in the papers and contacted us immediately."
Harry stared blankly at Remus, not really knowing what to think. "But why…?"
Remus knew that Harry wouldn't want to hear what he was going to say next.
"Harry, when we arrived at the muggle hospital to get you, Death Eaters were already there, trying to do the same thing. They must have seen your picture too. By your aunt informing us as quickly as she did, she essentially saved your life. We believe that was her intention, but we still don't know…"
"Get out," said Harry softly, but with more than a hint of anger in his voice.
Tears welled up into Tonks' eyes, "But Harry, I know that they abandoned you at King's Cross, but it appears that they still have your best interests…"
"'My best interests,' my arse! " he yelled, cutting off what Remus was saying. "I said get the bloody hell out! Those people took everything I had from me! I don't want to hear another bloody thing about those… those people… just get out!"
Remus sighed and ushered the now crying Tonks out of the room. A healer immediately entered to see what the commotion was about when Harry informed her that he did not want any more visitors. At all. He also practically demanded another dreamless sleep potion. He had much too much to think about without having nightmares about it all, too.
Harry abruptly awoke at two in the morning, still slightly disoriented from his long illness. After a few minutes, he unsteadily rose from his bed and after ensuring his legs would support him, he crossed the room and opened the cabinet that contained his possessions. He found his school trunk, wand and the box of documents he retrieved from his now empty Gringott's vault. He let out a depressed sigh as he again remembered that he went from being quite wealthy, or so he was told, to being quite poor. He thought it was a good thing that he did not intend to return to Hogwarts for his last year… he couldn't even afford the required books now, never mind the other supplies and tuition.
"Rags to riches to rags… At least Ron has no reason to be jealous of me anymore." He sadly muttered to himself as he carried the box back to his bed. He idly perused the documents in the box, not really reading any of them as his thoughts were dominated the odd sensations he was having about Hermione, and by the fact that without his funding, the search for Voldemort's horcruxes would be virtually impossible. He knew Ron had no money, and he certainly couldn't ask Hermione to fund the project. He had no idea what he was supposed to do. Should he tell the Order and have them search? If he did, they would just lock him away as they'd done in the past. It probably wouldn't matter to them that he would be of age in less than two weeks.
Again, Ginny's words echoed in his mind, 'They're probably out in the hallway snogging…' He felt a pang of nausea sweep over him as the image of Ron probing for Hermione's tonsils flashed in his mind. Even though he knew they liked each other at one time, he could never imagine that they'd stop arguing long enough for it to progress to that point. Ron was always belittling her, calling her 'mental' and 'scary.' Hermione would get so annoyed with Ron that Harry had to physically restrain her from hexing him more often than he cared to think about. Just the thought of them 'together' that way was giving him a headache. Still, Hermione, herself, admitted to him that they snogged, but she certainly didn't give any indication that she particularly enjoyed the experience.
He was pulled from his strangely depressing thoughts when he absently opened a rolled up parchment from the box and happened to notice the words 'Privet Drive.' He looked closer at the document in the dim light and saw that it actually was the property deed for the house at Number Four Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surry, showing that it was actually owned by the Potter Estate. An attached document was a legal contract that provided for the payment of all utility bills and a generous monthly stipend to be paid to Harry's legal guardians to cover all food and clothing costs for him, along with a healthy monthly spending allowance for Harry's personal use.
A pit in his stomach opened and anger bubbled out of it as the realization hit him… He owned the house on Privet Drive, not his Uncle Vernon. All those years that he was told that the Dursleys were keeping a roof over his head, keeping him 'clothed' and 'fed,' when it was actually the other way around. He was paying for the food, gas, electricity, even the telephone! He was paying for the telephone that he could have used to call Hermione to make his holidays somewhat more bearable. He was supposed to be getting an allowance!
It suddenly became painfully clear how Vernon could afford the fancy car he drove, how he could lavish such expensive gifts on Petunia and Dudley on Christmas and birthdays and any time they actually had the notion. Top of the line computers and video game consoles, fine crystal and chinaware, Petunia's huge jewelry cabinet stuffed with necklaces, rings and bracelets… mostly paid for by him! Rage coursed through him at the memory of all those years that Harry was insulted, beaten and ridiculed, told how he was nothing but a leech on the Dursley household, given nothing but threadbare, oversized, hand-me-down rags to wear, fed nothing but table scraps, when he was fed anything at all, and being imprisoned in a cupboard for nine years.
'They stuffed me in a bloody, spider-infested cupboard for over nine years! In the house that I owned!'
The dim lighting in the room started to flicker. The empty potion bottle that sat on his nightstand shattered, sending bits of glass flying. He felt a few pieces of the splintered bottle hit him on the side of his face, but he didn't appear to notice. A crackling current of magic swirled around him, sending the shattered glass, the documents he had been perusing, the box, even the pillows and sheets from the bed flying around the room. Harry didn't know whether to laugh, cry or scream, so he did all three randomly and in rapid succession. The vortex suddenly stopped when he angrily slammed his fist into the side of the metal nightstand leaving a sizable dent. All of the airborne debris immediately fell straight to the floor, except for the various documents that were just lazily fluttering down.
He had to get out of there. He wasn't sure where he would go, but he needed to find a place where he could think without constantly being watched, coddled or prodded. What would anyone care anyway? He's no good to anyone anymore without his money, Ron and Hermione still have each other, they certainly didn't need him around complicating their lives. The further away he went, the better off everyone will be.
Harry quickly stood up, which caused a sudden dizziness that forced him to sit back on the bed. He tried to calm his ragged breathing for a minute, but failed miserably. He again rose from the bed more slowly, walked to his trunk and opened it. He hastily pulled off the patient gown, the only thing he was wearing, and threw it on the floor. He apparently didn't hear the muffled, nervous giggle that came from somewhere across the room. He pulled a set of clothes from the trunk and quietly dressed himself.
He looked longingly at his shrunken Firebolt, wondering if he should chance using it. He figured that he could use magic to expand it while inside the confines of the hospital and not get any nasty-grams from the ministry, but could he risk being spotted flying across London? He figured that he still had about three hours of darkness before sunrise, probably enough to get to where he was going, wherever that ended up being.
After pulling out his invisibility cloak and moneybag, he looked appraisingly at the trunk, debating with himself on how best to deal with it. He couldn't very well lug it through the hospital while trying to make a stealthy escape, and he was almost certain there was an Order member outside his door. He just hoped it wasn't Moody, who would be able to see him under the cloak. He decided to leave the trunk and hoped that it would end up at the same place as Hedwig.
Harry unfolded his cloak and prepared to wear it, but he didn't notice the iridescent blue glow that softly flashed from his left trainer. After he secured the cloak around himself and cast a hasty silencing charm, he cracked his door open and upon seeing that the corridor outside the room was quite empty, he slipped out of the doorway and down the hall.
Harry had little problem navigating through the hallways and soon found himself on the floor that held the children's ward. He couldn't explain why, but he suddenly felt the need to visit the young Kotone.
He silently entered the ward and went from room to room, searching for the young girl. He knew right away when he found Kotone's room. As he opened her door, the dim sliver of light from the hallway stretched along the floor and over her bed, the thin strip of light illuminating her violet eyes in the otherwise dark room. He could see that the sheets were pulled up so that they covered most of her face. His attention was first drawn to her mane of eerily moving, stark-white hair. As the light fell on her face, she slowly turned her gaze from the ceiling to the crack in the door.
The instant his eyes fell directly onto hers, he felt the sensation of his surroundings fading into blackness, and all he could see were her eyes.
Her soft, ethereal voice floated in his head like a reverse echo, where he could hear the reverberations of her words in Japanese before the actual English words themselves.
'Shishi, I am glad you are well. We must speak.'
Harry was about to ask how she could see him when her voice stopped him before he could start.
'No, I cannot see you, only your souls. We have not much time, your guardian approaches as do your enemies. Two things you must do. You must return to the mother, it is the only way I may help you.'
Harry was about to ask who this 'mother' is when she again answered before he could ask.
'The Northern Mother, the school warts of hog, the school of protection. You must come. The second is a gift to Shishi and Washi. On table is book of kijutsu-kon, soul magic. You must give to Washi for understanding.'
He was about to ask who this 'Washi' was, when she again answered before he had a chance to ask, 'Washi… your mate. Ii-guru…' Harry could see the frustration in her eyes as she struggled for words, ' I do not know how to say… wait, I give to you memory of Washi.'
Kotone narrowed her eyes in concentration. Suddenly Harry saw a ghostly image of Hermione staring intently into his eyes, apparently a projection of Kotone's memory of Hermione's visit the day before, but something about the image wasn't right. Her normally brown hair looked more like a mass of ruffled white feathers and her normally brown eyes were more a golden yellow hue.
Harry thought, 'That's Hermione? Wait a minute! What did she mean by 'mate?''
'Yes, that is name, He-my-nee… mate of Shishi. Please to give book to Hemynee, book to understand, very important.'
A pained look flashed through his eyes as he said to her, 'But I'm not going back to the school, I have no money. I can't buy books or pay the tuition or anything. I can't…'
'You must. I know what you are doing, and you will not succeed unless you go back to the mother. Things are not as they appear and there is much danger now. Time is gone, go now and leave this place, you must flee.'
Kotone abruptly broke the connection and resumed staring at the ceiling. The room came into focus again as his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. He saw the book that she spoke of lying on the night table next to her bed. The old tome was huge, but when he lifted it, it seemed feather light. He tucked it under his arm beneath the cloak and quickly left the room. Several minutes later, he found the exit and enlarged his broom before he exited the hospital quietly and, unseen by anyone, flew off into the early morning darkness above muggle London.
-----~-----
A heavy oak door slowly opened and a short, heavy-set man with a balding head and beady, watery eyes hesitantly entered the dimly lit chamber. A figure seated on a makeshift throne watched the man with cruel, serpent-like eyes that seemed to glow with a red luminescence. The heavy-set man kept his head lowered in a cowering bow as he approached the throne.
"M-master, I have news of the Potter boy"
"Speak, Wormtail."
"Master, I was watching the Weasley house as ordered when a message arrived there. It seems the Potter boy is in St. Mungo's Hospital as we speak. From what I could gather, he's very ill, and it sounded like he won't be leaving there very soon."
Voldemort flashed an evil smirk at the news. "Well, done, Wormtail. Return to the blood-traitors home, you know what to look for. You may go, and send in Bella and Lucius."
"Thank you, master! Thank you!" Wormtail hurried from the chamber, feeling very fortunate, for this was one of the few times he was able to leave the Dark Lord's presence without experiencing the touch of a nasty curse.
Moments later, Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lastrange entered the chamber. They both approached the Dark Lord and bowed deeply, not rising until they were addressed.
"Lucius, any word from your boy?"
A brief look of fear flashed across Malfoy's face before he answered, "No, my lord, Draco has not contacted me since the muggle-lover's death."
"I see…" Voldemort held his gaze on Malfoy's steely eyes and sifted through his thoughts, searching for any sign of deception, "and what news of Snape?"
"We still have nor been able to locate him since he fled Hogwarts, my lord. We have people watching the usual places, Spinner's End and Knockturn Alley, and we have patrols in the countryside around Hogsmeade and…"
"I suggest you re-double your efforts, Lucius. Do not make me regret freeing you from Azkaban. Go now, I expect more from your next report."
"Yes, my Lord." Replied Malfoy as he bowed low and hastily made his exit.
Voldemort looked to Bellatrix, who was still locked in a respectful bow. He rose from the throne and stood before his servant.
"Rise, Bella." He said, placing a pale, bony finger under her chin and drawing her up. "It appears that the plan set in motion so long ago is beginning to come to fruition, although I am curious as to why it has taken so long for me to break through, It was as if his mind were shielded by something, but I did eventually get the message across. I could feel how weak he has become, it won't be long now. He has lost his greatest source of power. You were quite correct in capitalizing on Potter's greatest flaw. This proves that emotions are nothing but that, a weakness."
Bellatrix let out a sinister cackle. "The choice of the blood-traitor's daughter was inspired, Master. She has been smitten with the baby Potter since before he re-emerged onto our world. It was a simple thing to corrupt her morals."
The Dark Lord continued, "We must send the proper thanks to the Greengrass family for their daughter's fine contribution to our cause. Make sure there are none left to disclose what transpired, loose ends at this point could undo what we have carefully constructed. Once Potter returns to that school, the plan will be executed, until then, I must rest. You may go now, and report back when the 'business' with the Greengrass family is finished. Bring as many of the newer Death Eaters as you need, but remember, no survivors and it must look like the Order had attacked them… no Unforgivables!
A disappointed frown briefly flashed over Bellatrix's face as she bowed deeply. She always felt a nearly orgasmic thrill using the Unforgivables, especially the Cruciatus, but she quickly resigned herself to the more mundane spells, after all, any chaos is good chaos. She practically danced out of the Dark Lord's chamber, thrilled with the opportunity of creating more havoc, even if it would be against a pureblood family.
As she opened the door, Voldemort called out to her, "Send in McNair, we have to arrange a party for our dear friend Potter."
-----~-----