Combined: The Power

Combined: The Power

Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine, they all come from the brilliant mind of J.K Rowling and I had nothing to do with it…unfortunately. I just write for your entertainment entirely.

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Chapter 1: Dream Angel

Two months passed by slowly, and for those two agonizing months he sat there staring out the open window of his bedroom looking out on the world that was oblivious to the dangers that were quite apparent in a seemingly different dimension. Somewhere passed the rolling hills, where the green of the grass met the darkened sky and the sun disappeared behind it there were troubles that couldn't be conceived by the unimaginative mind and he was prophesized to put a stop to it all.

For two months he had been forced into a life of isolation dwelling on the horrors that had befouled his mind; the mind of a teenager, also the mind of a child. He was a child that had been forced into adulthood faster than his voice could crack, and now he was broken. Broken and left to pick up the pieces by himself.

He convinced himself that he didn't want to go back and he vowed to himself that he would never return to the place that had abandoned him and given him the best home he could ask for at the same time. He said he would never return to the people that had left him alone, not knowing what kind of mental torture that he was putting on himself…oblivious to the pain that he had been caused.

And yet…here he was.

Harry Potter trudged through the crowded terminals of the King's Cross Station maneuvering the flatbed that carried his two trunks, other packaged items and his owl Hedwig who was sleeping quietly in her cage. He stared straight forward, not bothering to indulge himself in his surroundings. If one had known Harry before the past year they would have described him as a troubled boy who tried desperately to be happy and have a life of his own just at first glance, but now just by looking at the sixteen year old raven-haired, green-eyed boy, bursting into tears and reeling into a fetal position was a common option.

His skin was a sickly pale color due to extreme lack of sun, fresh air and food. His hair was longer than it had been the previous year and was currently mussed about his head covering his ears and cascading down his face halfway over his thick wire-rimmed glasses that had once again been held together in the middle with any bit of scotch tape that he could find. The glasses shielded his emerald green eyes that held so much pain and anguish that they had begun to look cold, dull and unfeeling.

His faded jeans and six-size-too-big jumper hung off of him like an elephant skin, and under them was a torso that had been beaten black and blue from his own self-infliction.

The summer had done him horribly, that was for sure. Everyday he woke up in the same chair by the window and stared at the sky until the sun blinded him. He went to the bathroom, and then went back to the chair. On more than one occasion he began scratching at his skin nervously, not feeling the pain he caused himself. He was waiting…waiting for something bad to happen, to see some explosion off in the distance, or some dark hooded figures pass by a house in a menacing manner. It had begun to drive him mad, so in his wakeful nights he began beating himself up. The Dursley's fed him scraps from their table, one or two times a day, but he hardly ever ate. Eating was for the people who deserved it…and in his mind he did not.

He would sit some more and think…and think…and think until the sun went down and his eyes willed him to sleep. No one could tell what he was thinking, the Dursley's certainly didn't care and for some reason, Hedwig seemed to just ignore Harry by pretending to sleep. On the occasions she was allowed out, she'd be gone for days and days at a time, avoiding her master. Maybe she sensed a sudden change in him, an angry change that she feared. But what did they know? They all lived sheltered lives, and they knew nothing of the battles raging in his head.

Harry didn't receive any letters from his friends to keep his sane, or from anyone else for that matter. The only connection he had to the Wizarding World was through the Daily Prophet, but he would rather line Hedwig's cage with that rubbish then read it.

Harry had become so angry; he blamed himself for what happened to his Godfather at the Department of Mysteries. He blamed himself for the injuries, and possible deaths of his friends…he blamed himself for everything, for all the things he couldn't control and for all the things he could. Horrible nightmares plagued his mind once sleep overtook him. Nightmares of Sirius falling through the veil, his friends were dropping at his feet one by one, lots of blood, slow and painful deaths and those sinister red eyes that kept showing themselves right before the morning came, leaving him to cradle his head in his arms because of the searing pain in his scar. The voices in his head were just the icing on the cake.

They did nothing but agree with the horrible things he said about himself, which only caused him to hurt himself more, not intentionally of course, but how was he to know? He hadn't been paying attention much to anything over the summer. He hated it, he hated everything…but then, what was hate anymore? He didn't know. How could anyone see where the lines of hate stopped and love began after all that he'd been through?

For Harry it was all the same, not even black and white anymore…it was all gray.

He found, that when he snapped out his reverie that he was coming up to the support beam standing tall directly in the middle of Platforms Nine and Ten. He didn't look around to check and see if anyone was watching him, he just slipped through the bricks, immediately greeted with the intimidating sight of the great Scarlet train.

Ever since first year Harry had always had a sense of calmness wash over him whenever he approached the train, he had always been happy to see it for it meant that there was someplace protected that he could go to…a safe haven that he didn't have anywhere else.

But that haven was gone and that sense of calmness was replaced with a sense of impending doom.

Harry ignored this feeling and grabbed his things off of the flatbed, continuing on towards the train. He was very aware that people were staring at him as they were saying goodbye to their parents and guardians. He knew they all thought he was insane, insane or troubled. Either word would go well to describe the Great Harry Potter, their Savior from the damned.

`Some Savior I am. I can barely keep myself alive. Let alone anyone else.' He thought to himself as he made his way to the very back of the train where he was sure no one would be. It was true, all times Harry had been faced with danger it was luck and his friends that had helped him through it…and those friends probably were sick of helping him.

Harry sighed as he began settling in. He put his belongings in the overhead rack where things like that were stored and he nestled back into the comfy overstuffed seat. It was more comfortable than he had been for those whole two months away for summer, and soon he found himself drifting off into a raging battle filled sleep.

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Harry Potter awoke to the sounds of his own startled screams and somebody gently shaking him awake. “Harry…Harry wake up.” It was a soft voice, a voice that he had never heard in his dreams before. He was sure it was the voice of an angel that wanted to take him away from all of this.

`Yes, wake up Harry, wake up and face your destiny. Wake up Harry, wake up and feel.' The voice changed to the sinister slither that was always in his head, and he screamed louder, clutching around in the darkness for the angel to protect him.

“Harry!” the voice was more forceful this time, but still gentle. Harry reached out with his arms and tugged, sure that he had caught the angel, sure that he was leaving everything behind, when he felt a sharp pain in his head.

His eyes flew open, clouded by tears of pain and he looked into the familiar face of none other than one of his best friends, Hermione Granger.

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A/N: Don't forget leave reviews and what not, feedback, and tips are greatly appreciated.

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Chapter 2: Newfound Power

A/N: I appreciated the comments and support that I did receive and I give thanks to the people who are continuing to read the story.

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Harry stared blindly, his screams had stopped and he was now rubbing his head irritably, blinking away the tears of pain that he had crept on him from an elbow to the head he received by the brunette who was currently on top of him.

“I'm so sorry, Harry!” the girl squealed scrambling to get off of the already hurt boy who was lying belly-up on the floor. Hermione put out her hand to help him up, and he took it, suddenly feeling more at home than he had in two months. Harry could see by the look in her eyes that she was surprised at how easily she was able to pull him off of the floor and he could see that it scared her.

She had a bright smile on her face as she put her things in the overhead compartment next to his. The girl he once knew seemed to all flood back into his mind, and it was as if she had reminded him of something. She seemed as if she was glad to see him, which he thought was a possibility but that voice in his head continued to argue that it was not true, and it could never be true, causing Harry to believe it as well. “How was your break, Harry? I'm so sorry I wasn't able to contact you over the summer. The Order forbid us from talking to you! You can imagine how furious Ronald and I were, I was pacing up and down my room just counting down the days until I was able to come and see you…and here you are…Harry!” she finished her feverish whispering all in one breath and threw her arms around him and pulled him into a huge hug which he suddenly shied away from.

An involuntary whimper passed his lips from the sharp pain that was sent through his body when Hermione touched on healing bruises, cuts and scrapes that lined his torso. He looked into her chocolate colored eyes and was even more hurt to see the sadness and confusion in when he did cringe away. She opened her mouth to say something when more people began filling the compartment.

“Hello Harry!” Ron bellowed happily bounding forward and pulling him into a manly hug. Harry cringed as his left eye twitched. Why was everybody in such a happy mood? Didn't they know the horrors that were out there? And why did they feel the need to hug him? It caused him more pain than he was actually in, didn't they know?

But how could they? He was alone for the summer with no contact with them.

Ginny looked at him strangely from his sickly pale face and to his hair, then the rest of his small body felt as if she might cry. “Hello Harry.” She said, in that same sweet yet powerful voice that was always so Ginny. Harry sized her up and saw that the summer had changed her as well. She had developed more in places and gotten a little bit taller, though she was still at least a head shorter than Harry. Her hair had grown a bit longer and was now passed her shoulders. Her eyes sparkled, and something around them caught her eye, she was wearing make-up. `That's a big change…' he thought to himself, staring at her for one more moment before she moved in for a hug.

He cringed, but took the pain, yet again, trying to keep the tears that were welling in the back of his eyes at bay.

“Alrigh' Harry?” Harry had to say that Neville's face had changed immensely. He still had that goofy look about him, but he wasn't as much of a butterball as he was the previous years, it seemed as if he had dropped some of his weight and his ears actually looked proportionate to his head. His teeth looked straighter, but the huge feet in the clown-large shoes still remained. Harry said nothing and only nodded as Neville moved in to give him a hug as well.

Harry couldn't take much more of it, and reeled back as if trying to defend himself. “No more!” his voice was cracked, harsh and dry which could definitely be overlooked seeing that his vocal chords were a bit rusty from him not using them.

They all stared at him with immense confusion and he turned away from them, not wanting to look at their concerned faces. He was silently thanking Luna for being the same, dreamy-eyed blond girl that stayed back and didn't' say anything. He was glad that she didn't question the obvious, and didn't ask that obvious question that he could see on everyone's minds.

What was wrong with him?

He knew why this was harder on him than it was supposed to be. If he had went through the summer months actually seeing them and writing to them, getting their opinions and finding closure and maybe once, just once hearing that the reason the sky was gray and why the grass was never greener on the other side wasn't his fault, he might have been happier.

Maybe.

But that didn't happen, and facing everybody that he saw now, dead in his dreams every night over and over again, and then waking up in that same wretched chair only for it to happen again the next night wasn't closure.

It was torture…

He heard the hushed whispers and quiet tones that surrounded him, all talking about him he knew, but he couldn't make out any clear words. He stared out the window and sat down, and the silence continued until the train began to move only minutes later. He was grateful when they went back to their everyday lives. Their everyday lives without him.

When he felt a hot prickly feeling in the back of his neck, he knew that someone was watching him.

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It was about an hour or two into the ride to Hogwarts, not even close to nearing the halfway mark. The whole train ride thus far consisted of Hermione and Ron arguing about which Quidditch Team was better; The Ballycastle Bats or the Chudley Cannons, and then they started arguing on why Hermione cared in the first place, which Harry thought was faintly amusing and he began thinking they were arguing just to make him laugh. Which would have been an incredible feat considering everything up to this point.

As expected by Harry and probably everybody else in the compartment an unwanted surprise awaited them at their compartment door. Harry sighed and rolled his eyes. He wasn't going to pay attention to them, they were now trivial players in a game of war, and they weren't worth acknowledging.

“So, if it isn't the Potthead, the Weasel and the Mudblood. Oh, and look, the gang of failure's as well! You have the whole clan up for a tea party, then?” To Harry, Malfoy seemed to be laughing at something that was not funny in the slightest, but apparently calling them all names had been a big joke on his part, because all three of them were cackling like a bunch of idiots.

“You shut up Malfoy! Don't you dare call Hermione that!” Harry watched as Ron sprung up and defended Hermione. Same Ron…except much taller than Harry remembered, and broader shoulders as well.

“And what are you going to do if I don't Weasley? Get Potter over there to come and kill me? Just like his criminal Godfather did to his parents?”

At this Harry's head snapped up, and he could feel the blood bubbling under his skin. The heat coming from his was so great that those around him cowered away in fear, Malfoy, however, did not notice the change in the atmosphere.

“Oh yeah Potter, I know. I know everything. I know how The Dark Lord lured you and your idiot friends to the Department of Mysteries, how you were cornered...” he chuckled and folded his arms over his chest with a knowing smirk. “And I especially know how my Aunt Bella killed your dear Godfather, Sirius Black, with the killing curse, before he could even defend himself.”

Harry balled his hands into fists so tightly that his nails were cutting into his skin and the crimson blood was clearly visible as it dripped from his hands and onto the floor. It happened lightning fast, within a fraction of a second he was nose-to-nose with Malfoy, his head cocked to the side with a look of sheer insanity that caused the blonde boys' eyes to widen. But there was something else there, something more than a slight fear of him; Malfoy was terrified. And Harry saw that he looked to be to the point of wetting himself at that very moment.

That was too much to say for Crabbe and Goyle who had already fled the scene.

With the same lightning quick speed he had one bony hand on Malfoy's neck, squeezing with force that did not come from the frail, malnourished boy he was over the summer, but that of an eviler sort. “Say his name once more and I will break you.” His voice held that same cracked tone which only caused him to seem more maniacal than actuality. Harry seemed to be lost in his own thoughts, his own body, and his own mind. He wasn't himself, and he vaguely remembered Malfoy sputtering and coughing curses and threats, and his friends' shrieks of horror, trying to tell Harry to let him go. They were all scared of what their best friend had become, because they knew that was not him.

“I'll…I'll get you for this…P-Potter!” He knew what Malfoy was saying was not a threat, but a promise, but seeing the look in the boy's eyes reminded him of a mouse caught in a trap, knowing that soon would be the end for him. So Harry did not fear the blonde boy who had not even retrieved his wand from his robe pockets. The blood from Harry's hands were dripping more now, from the pressure that was put on them by the force he applied in trying to choke the life out of Malfoy. It was now cascading from his hands and onto Malfoy's neck which caused the boy to squirm more.

“Really, M-Malfoy?” he tightened his hold on the boy's throat with mock laughter. “I'll murder you in your sleep.”

That only seemed to make the compartment louder, now with Luna joining in, and Hermione's firm pleas for Harry to stop. He felt a soft hand on his shoulder and he looked back to see the owner of it. It was Hermione. Her tears had stopped falling but they left slight gray trails down her face, and it was then that Harry realized something so bizarre it even shocked himself.

She was wearing make-up as well.

`Where did that come from?' he thought distractedly, staring off at her face peculiarly and that's when he felt everything subside. The heat emanating from him bubbled down to the core, and the strength he once had lessened and lessened until all of that power and anger lay dormant in his body, waiting for another chance to show itself. Harry was suddenly very, very tired. The silence was loud and the tension in the air between all in the compartment was very high.

When he turned back to the scene he found that Malfoy had gone, and he felt immediately calmer, like he was safe for the moment. He looked at Hermione once more and found that she looked more distressed, scared and confused than she had been before.

Harry looked her up and down, curiosity playing across his face before he sat down, leaving himself to think. Why, when he had looked everybody over he had found something that had changed about them? Why, when he looked at everybody had they all seemed different to him when Hermione had remained the same in his mind until an instant ago, and the most important question he needed to ask himself;

`What just happened to me?' he asked himself.

`Power happened Harry, you now have power.' The voice was dripping with an evil happiness that made Harry question it.

`Is that a good thing?' Why he was talking to the sinister voice in his head was simple, because that had been his only source of companionship for the longest time.

`Power is always a good thing.'

And Harry left it at that for now, he turned his mind to Hermione, and wondered if there was anything different about her that he did not see.

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The train had arrived in Hogsmead station multiple hours after the departure from the King's Cross Station, but to Harry it felt like a lifetime.

Earlier Hermione and Ron left shortly after the scene with Malfoy for prefect duties, but Harry could tell that Hermione wanted to stay. She had cleaned his wounds as best she could with a spell as he tried hard not to look at her. He could tell that she was worrying about his well-being, but half of him was glad she left when she did; Harry didn't want her to see anymore of his newfound `power'.

Harry was then left alone with Ginny, Neville and Luna. The four of them sat in silence, Neville reading a book on Herbology, Ginny staring at the ceiling occasionally stealing glances at the black-haired boy and Luna stared at him openly, not trying to hide her confusion. Harry wished she would stop; it didn't even seem like she was looking at him, it was like she was looking inside him and picking him apart with her eyes. That was why he was thankful to go put on his robes, as a reason to leave.

They all left the train in silence, Ron and Hermione had come back now, and as Harry stepped off the Scarlet locomotive he took in a breath of fresh air, then almost wretched.

The butterflies in his empty stomach made him feel horrible, and just looking at familiar surroundings were enough to make him silently dry heave. He stopped quickly, hoping it wouldn't be noticed and hurried on to catch a carriage by himself. He couldn't think clearly anymore, he was tired of thinking actually, but thoughts about Sirius made him think about the Department of Mysteries which made him think about the Prophecy, which made him think about Voldemort and strangely enough, every time he did he got this horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach.

The feeling wasn't of fear or loathing, as usual, but of something else, something he couldn't quite place…but what was it?

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A/N: I know this chapter was a bit confusing, but it's a work in progress. Tips are welcome.

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A/N: Thanks for all of the wonderful reviews. Here's your next chapter, sorry it took me so long.

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Chapter 3: Silence

The few hours at Hogwarts had not been good to the Wizarding Worlds Hero. He tossed and turned as he lay silently in the oh-so-familiar four-poster bed. For at least thirty minutes he had been unsuccessful in finding a comfortable spot on the mattress that his body was no longer used to.

After rolling over so much his muscles ached, he laid still, forcing his muscles into relaxation. As soon as he fell asleep a feeling of calmness washed over him for all of seven minutes…until the nightmares came.

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Harry awoke to the sounds of his own hair-raising screams. The blood pounded in his ears as his heart beat against his chest causing Harry's body to shake more than he already had been. He took in a breath of frigid air to calm himself as he wiped the sweat off of his forehead in self-disgust.

The boy felt like crying. It took most of his strength just to hold back more screaming, let alone the tears of anger and frustration that had been building inside him ever since these nightmares started. Usually they were the same, tamer and much less violent (which wasn't saying much). After awhile Harry's shock lessened and he could control his raging emotions a lot easier when they were the same dream…but this one was different, very different.

If only he could remember it.

He looked around, and for a moment he couldn't tell where he was. He sat wondering if he had screamed loud enough to wake the other boys. He figured he had since it was all in an enclosed space and a pin drop could be heard clearly throughout the quiet room.. But if so, why weren't they crowded around his bed, hating is guts for disturbing their teenage-girl filled sleeps? Harry slipped on his glasses, expecting to find four boys sitting up, staring at his bed in wonder, but all he saw were three of his roommates sound asleep, and one empty bed.

Ron's bed.

`Where would he be off to?' he asked himself quietly, knowing that surely Ron wouldn't miss a day of sleep for anything. His stomach gave a violent lurch and he cringed in discomfort. Oh how he wished he had eaten the food at the feast hours earlier. He had suspected that he wasn't hungry, so he hadn't touched anything, but apparently his stomach was lashing out at him for passing up such a great face-stuffing opportunity, one that he hadn't had in awhile. So, there was only one thing to do. Go to the kitchens.

Harry pulled himself out of bed and stretched his tired limbs, he had gone to sleep in his cousins jeans and one of his shirts, both of which more than covered all of his body, consuming him in the threads of doom which were useful to hide all the self-affliction that had been done.

He walked barefoot over to the door of the dormitory and opened it, not looking back at the bed where the nightmare had just taken place.

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Harry had almost reached the seventh step of the stairs leading into the common room when he stopped. He heard people talking in the Common Room. He listened quietly for a moment, not wanting to interrupt their conversation. He almost decided to go back up the stairs, when another low growl of his stomach reminded him why he was out of bed in the first place.

He stood there, listening to the voices that were barely above a whisper. He couldn't tell what they were saying, but one voice sounded frightened, and maybe even a bit angry. An uncounted amount of time passed before he heard the portrait hole opening and closing. He let out a sigh of relief and pressed on down the stairs and into the common room.

The sight of Hermione sitting on the couch, knitting what happened to be a small pointed hat, greeted Harry when he hit the bottom step. She was staring into the fire, looking as if she was deep in thought. The deep orange blaze cast a glow over her features, making her look more serious than Harry doubted she was.

“Still knitting for those elves are you?” he said in a small voice, his mouth dry from sleep.

Hermione jumped a little, her head snapping up to look at him as if she had been caught doing something she was not supposed to. “Oh…hello…Harry.” She rubbed her eyes and grinned tiredly, patting the space on the couch right beside her. “Come sit.”

Harry obeyed quietly moving over to the two-seater couch she was currently occupying. He sat down next to her, watching her face out of the corner of his eye. “What are you doing up so late?” she asked him.

“Didn't know it was late…” he replied with a sleepy voice, licking his dry lips. He was going to say something else when his stomach gave another growl. He tried not to crack a smile, but the look of bewilderment on Hermione's face was just too much. He snickered; giving her the first real sign of happiness she had seen the whole day.

Harry heard her whisper something under her breath that he couldn't quite catch, but he heard his name. “I'm sorry?” he asked. “Um…I asked were you hungry? I went down to the kitchens earlier and got some snacks…” Harry raised an eyebrow and smirked at her as he scooted closer.

“I paid them!” Hermione defended herself smiling as well as she turned away for a moment, and back again with finger sandwiches, crisps and a goblet of water. “You can have the rest. I already had some.”

Harry looked from her to the food which looked as if it hadn't been touched, and he could swear he could hear a faint growling of a stomach that was not his own. “How about we share?”

Hermione nodded without question and began eating with him. She took a bite of her food and swallowed before talking. “So, why are you down here Harry? Up awfully late…something wrong?” Something in her voice held that accusatory tone mixed with worry and confusion that made Harry come right out with it. “Couldn't sleep…” he replied heavily. “Had a bad dream.” Harry watched for her reaction and in the glow of the firelight came that same inquisitive look that he saw when he first came down the stairs.

He gave a sigh of relief when she didn't ask him to elaborate on his thoughts, he had no intention of trying to think about what he had been dreaming before he screamed himself awake. “So, Hermione, how was your summer?” he asked as he started eating again. “Oh it was…interesting…nothing to talk about really….I…missed you though.” She spoke quietly, looking at the floor. Something about what she said made his heart beat erratically, and he could feel himself smiling. “I missed you too. Very much.” He replied and began talking to her about light-hearted stuff that made no sense.

They talked until all of the food was gone, and the goblets of water ran dry, and they slept on the couch together that night, Hermione cuddled at Harry's chest, and Harry with a smile on his face.

It was the first time that he had felt comfortable with himself and one of the only times that his mind was completely silent.

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A/N: Read and Review pleaseth.

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