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Path Diverged II | ||||||
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Category: Alternate Universe, Post-HBP Characters:Albus Dumbledore, Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Nymphadora Tonks, Remus Lupin, Ron Weasley, Sirius Black Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst, Romance Warnings: Disturbing Imagery, Mental Abuse, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Situations Rating: PG-13 Reviews: 220 Summary: The Wizarding world finally knows that Lord Voldemort has returned, and the Second War has begun. As Harry prepares to enter his sixth year at Hogwarts, he is forced to deal with the trauma from his last encounter with Voldemort, the upcoming trial of Dolores Umbridge, Sirius's uncomfortable questions about his childhood, his budding relationship with Ginny Weasley, and the unknown shadow of what lies ahead as the "Chosen One" who must defeat Voldemort once and for all. This is an AU take of Half-Blood Prince following my previous story, Path Diverged. Hitcount: Story Total: 92616; Chapter Total: 3325 Awards: View Trophy Room Author's Notes: Work has been stressful. A friend of mine died unexpectedly on the 14th. I haven't looked at this story since the 12th, and I wasn't sure I could pull myself together to get this chapter ready. But here it is. Bits and pieces are taken from HBP chapter eight "Snape Victorious." Enjoy. |
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“Mr. Potter!” The last time Harry had heard Professor McGonagall call his name before he’d even set foot in the Great Hall, it had led to a trip to McGonagall’s office where Madam Pomfrey had checked him over for the aftereffects of Harry’s first encounter with a dementor. “Have I done something, Professor?” he asked worriedly as McGonagall made her way over to him through the throng of students heading into the Great Hall. Filch’s glee in running Secrecy Sensors over everyone as they came into the entrance hall had been off-putting enough as it was. “Not to worry, Potter,” she said briskly as she adjusted her spectables. “I just require a few minutes of your time is all.” “But –” started Ginny. “Just for a few minutes, Miss Weasley. I would think you might understand the reason I need to speak with Mr. Potter as it is quite similar to your second year.” Harry frowned in confusion, but Ginny nodded with a surprisingly grave expression on her face. “Yes, Professor,” she said quietly. “I’ll save you a seat, Harry.” She pecked him on the cheek and led the others into the Great Hall as Harry glumly followed Professor McGonagall up the grand staircase. It didn’t take long before Harry recognized where they were headed. “I’m not ill, Professor,” he said in confusion. “I don’t need –” “Three years ago,” McGonagall cut him off, “the headmaster saw fit to tell me of the flashbacks and panic attacks Miss Weasley had been working through all summer the day after she arrived here for her second year. Had I known the night of the Welcoming Feast, she would have been right next to you in my office after your encounter with the dementors for a check-up with Madam Pomfrey. As it is, my duty as Head of House is to ensure that my students who are in need regularly visit the school nurse until she clears them from her care completely.” Harry couldn’t stop himself from groaning. “He told you, didn’t he?” “It was actually both the headmaster and your godfather, to be exact,” said McGonagall briskly. “I understand you have worked hard all summer with your friends and Sirius to overcome your own struggles, but it remains a matter to which Madam Pomfrey needs to be completely in the know about. I trust you can understand this, Potter.” Harry nodded sullenly. He was fine, he didn’t need anything more than what he was already doing to combat his personal issues. Madam Pomfrey didn’t agree with him, however. “Those words have become quite the mantra for you over the years,” she sniffed as Harry glared at her. “Mr. Potter, you are most certainly not fine, I could tell the moment I saw you at the trial last month. Your behavior during your testimony all but confirmed what I suspected, and Mr. Black shared the full details with me just a few hours ago.” Sirius had told her, too? “Christ,” Harry muttered, “do all the teachers know?” “No,” said Madam Pomfrey, waving her wand over Harry in her usual diagnostic patterns he had become all-too-familiar with over the years, “but I will be sharing the basic details with the relevant teachers tomorrow after your schedule for the year has been sorted out. Professor McGonagall will be letting me know which members of staff I will need to speak with.” “I don’t think that’s necessary, Madam Pomfrey,” protested Harry. “Ron’s planning to take all the same classes as me, he can handle anything that could happen –” “Your godfather is not as confident in Mr. Weasley’s capabilities as you are, Mr. Potter,” said McGonagall firmly. “He has expressed his worries regarding the panic attacks in particular, citing the fact that Miss Weasley has been the only person able to reach you during the worst of the panic attacks you’ve experienced. Seeing as how she is in the year below you, we will need the teachers of your classes to go through some basic training so they know exactly what to do should you suffer any severe panic attacks.” “So weak…” Harry jumped to his feet, feeling very agitated, and started pacing. “You need to sit down, Mr. Potter,” said Madam Pomfrey firmly, a piece of parchment in hand as a quill scribbled across it. “I’m not finished with you yet.” “I don’t need anyone else involved in this,” said Harry fiercely. “I’ve got Ron and Hermione during my classes, and they know what they’re doing. I’m fine!” “My readings show that your heart rate is increasing,” said Madam Pomfrey dispassionately as she looked at the parchment in her hands, the quill practically dancing across the surface, “developing shortness of breath, sweating, shakiness, possible chest pain, all signs of an impending panic attack.” She looked up at Harry. “You need to sit down and take deep, slow breaths now, Mr. Potter.” Harry wanted nothing more in that moment than to bolt, but forced himself to sit down, starting in on the breathing techniques Sirius had taught him and ignoring the two women in the room with him. “Potter,” said Professor McGonagall in an unusually gentle tone of voice once Harry had calmed himself, “there is nothing wrong with the fact that you’re struggling. You deserved help last year but did not receive it, and I am determined to make sure such a thing never happens again under my watch.” Harry nodded silently, unable to bring himself to look up at her. “This is not weakness,” continued McGonagall quietly, “to need the help of others around you. I know you accept the help of your friends and loved ones, but you are worthy of the help and support of your teachers, as well.” “Even Professor Snape?” said Harry, unable to keep the bitter tone from his voice. “He’s going to –” “Say and do nothing to make your situation more difficult than it already is,” McGonagall cut him off firmly. “You are not the first student to struggle with panic attacks, and neither was Miss Weasley. His duty as a teacher means that he will not use the knowledge Madam Pomfrey shares with him against you.” Harry shot her a dubious look. “But what if he does? You know he hates me!” “Then I expect to be the first to know,” said McGonagall seriously. “Anyone who deliberately targets you should be reported to me before anyone else, including your godfather, is that understood?” Harry nodded again. “Yes, Professor,” he said quietly, looking away again to hide his embarrassment. “Can I go now?” “I’m done with my baseline readings,” Madam Pomfrey spoke up, rolling up the parchment in her hands and banishing the quill that had been writing on it, “but I will need to see you back in one weeks’ time on Monday evening, Mr. Potter. I will be sure to remind you the morning of to come to me right after dinner so I can evaluate your progress. I will also be speaking with your teachers regularly, and a house elf has been designated to track your sleep patterns.” “My what?” said Harry, puzzled. “Your godfather reported that your sleep is frequently interrupted with nightmares, or that you struggle to fall asleep,” said Madam Pomfrey. “We need to be tracking that to ensure you are getting the rest needed to be successful in your classes. If we can find a discernable pattern, I can potentially prescribe a mild sleeping draught to ensure the peaceful rest you require at your age. I expect to see you after dinner Monday evenings until further notice, understood?” Harry nodded meekly, realizing he had absolutely no control over the situation. “This is not being done to shame you, Potter,” said McGonagall in that same, unusually gentle voice as she placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Our goal is to help you, and I need you to trust me on this. Can you do that?” Harry forced himself to meet Professor McGonagall’s eyes. “Yes, Professor,” he said quietly. “I can do that.” Minutes later, McGonagall escorted him into the Great Hall just as the students started eating. Harry quickly made his way toward Ginny as students all over the hall turned to look at him, some of them even standing up to stare. He sat down between Ginny and Neville, and immediately grabbed Ginny’s left hand with his own, trying not to feel overwhelmed. It hit him in that moment that he hadn’t been around this many people in one room for months, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to stay based on the amount of whispering he was hearing and the looks he knew he was getting. “Where did you go with McGonagall?” asked Ron from across the table. Harry shook his head, quickly reaching for the nearest platter of chicken to serve himself so he could avoid talking about the fact that he’d be reporting to Madam Pomfrey once a week for the forseeable future. “Once a week after dinner?” Ginny asked him quietly. Harry nodded silently, unsurprised that she knew at this point. “I’m sorry, it’s been about two years since I last visited her for the panic attacks, I didn’t even think about the fact that she’d want to check in on you like she did me.” “It’s okay,” said Harry. “It’s just – I’d like to really feel like myself again, without all this –” He broke off, frustrated. “She’ll be able to help with that,” said Ginny reassuringly. “I promise.” They ate in silence for a couple minutes. “Has Dumbledore said anything about Voldemort?” asked Harry at length. “Not yet,” said Hermione quickly from her spot next to Ron. “I expect he’ll save that part for his usual speech after the feast ends.” “Has anyone noticed his hand?” Ginny shook her head. “Malfoy hasn’t engaged in his usual activity of insulting Gryffindors, either.” Harry chanced a quick glance across the hall to the Slytherin table. Malfoy was eating, but did not seem to be participating in the conversation Pansy Parkinson and the other Slytherin students he usually spoke with were having. “Didn’t even sneer at me,” Ginny continued. “I thought for sure he’d have something to say about the fact that we’re still together, but he just went straight for his seat.” “Definitely not like him,” muttered Harry. “You’d think he’d at least be putting up a front, acting like nothing’s changed.” “I was thinking the same thing,” said Hermione quietly. She looked around suddenly, appearing a bit startled, and Harry realized that the others around them were attempting to listen in on their conversation. He quickly turned the talk to Quidditch, giving Ron the chance to debate the odds of the Chudley Canons with Seamus two seats down, Dean sitting quietly on his other side, looking a little detached. “What did you do this summer, Harry?” asked Seamus, startling Harry out of his food reverie. “What? Oh er, just spent time with my friends and godfather.” “What, you don’t see enough of the Weasleys at school?” laughed Seamus. “We’d keep him year-round if we could,” said Ron with a grin. “Probably the best thing to happen to our family since Ginny’s first bout of accidental magic.” “What’d you do?” asked Harry interestedly. Ginny chuckled. “I changed Fred and George’s hair pink and purple so they couldn’t keep trying to trick me and say they were the other twin.” Harry, Ron, Seamus, and Neville all burst out laughing at this, Hermione smiling a bit and shaking her head in amusement. “What’s it like, Harry?” cut in Lavender Brown without warning from Neville’s other side. “What’s what like?” asked Harry. “Having a former convict for a godfather, of course!” she exclaimed. “We all read about Sirius Black actually being innocent in the papers, but we almost never saw you around after the news broke.” “Er, he’s great,” said Harry. “But he spent almost twelve years imprisoned for a crime he didn’t commit!” piped up Parvati Patil from the other side of Lavender. “Wouldn’t being locked up for that long with the dementors drive a person completely mad?” “He stated he knew he was innocent during the press conference, didn’t he?” said Hermione briskly. “He clearly said, ‘this was not a happy thought, so the dementors could not take away my magic or my sanity.’” “But is he really sane?” asked Lavender. “Yes,” said Harry firmly. “Best guardian I’ve ever had.” “Yes, I noticed the nicer clothes you were wearing on the train,” said Parvati with an appraising gaze. “Hermione always told us to leave it alone, but the clothes you used to wear were obviously hand-me-downs from the fattest kid on the planet.” “Are those Muggles you grew up with a bit impoverished?” asked Lavender. “Something like that,” muttered Harry. Heart racing, breathing irregular, sweating, calm down, get it together… Ginny obviously sensed the beginnings of a panic attack, because she gripped Harry’s left hand tightly under the table with her own and started asking Lavender and Parvati about their summer break. Her thumb was running back and forth over the hand she had clasped in hers, and Harry focused on that, tracing the gentle movements with his gaze as he breathed in and out… in and out… Soon the feast faded from view, replaced by the desserts, and Ginny dished up both herself and Harry without batting an eye, placing treacle tart and chocolate fudge on his plate while pressing Parvati for details about how she and her twin sister Padma had begged their parents to allow them to return to Hogwarts this year. “I would think,” Ginny was saying loudly between bites of chocolate ice cream, “that since Harry Potter came back, it ought to be safe enough for anyone else.” “Everyone’s scared, though,” said Hermione. “Even my parents have noticed a change in the atmosphere around the place, and they don’t know much of anything about what’s been going on.” “You didn’t tell them?” asked Ron in surprise. “The less they know, the better,” said Hermione firmly, though Harry noticed a slight shake to her hands as she cut off a bit of her slice of apple pie. “It was difficult enough having them involved in everything that happened with Professor Umbridge” – Ginny had Harry’s left hand in her own before he could blink – “and they were questioning if the school really was safe for me after that. It took a lot for me to convince them that Umbridge’s behavior was not the norm for this school, and that I was perfectly safe returning.” “I didn’t know that,” said Harry. “That sounds rough, Hermione.” “I haven’t told my mum or stepdad much about what’s been going on either,” Dean spoke up, giving Hermione a sympathetic look. “Being Muggles… they just wouldn’t get it.” “It takes a lot of courage to protect your parents,” said Ron, smiling at Hermione, “especially when it’s supposed to be the other way around.” “Thank you,” whispered Hermione, returning Ron’s smile with a sad one of her own. “Ron, that’s really sweet of you,” said Lavender with a strangely sugary smile. Ron blinked. “Thanks,” he said, sounding slightly uncertain. “My gran says Hogwarts is the safest place right now,” said Neville firmly. “I’m not worried about anything happening here.” Was it really the safest place, though? Notwithstanding the new security measures that had been put into place for the current school year, Harry had been in harms way every single year thus far. True, he’d deliberately sought it out at times, but now, knowing that Dumbledore was dying and Malfoy was supposed to come up with a plan to kill him from within the walls of Hogwarts, well… maybe those worried parents out there had a point. Harry looked up at the staff table, taking in the adults seated up there with their wealth of knowledge on a variety of subjects. Very few were in the Order of the Phoenix, but only one of them knew that Dumbledore’s days were numbered… One teacher and four students in the entire school knew the truth, yet another heavy burden to bear. All too soon, the desserts were cleared from view, and Professor Dumbledore rose to give his start-of-term speech. “The very best of evenings to you!” he said, smiling broadly, his arms opened wide as though to embrace the whole room. Harry’s eyes were immediately drawn to his right hand. He’s dying, he thought again, wondering what kind of curse the headmaster had encountered that could have had such a terrible consequence. There were whispers sweeping across the room as Dumbledore merely smiled and shook his purple-and-gold sleeve over his injury. “Nothing to worry about,” he said airily. “Now… to our new students, welcome, to our old students, welcome back! Another year full of magical education awaits you…” He continued speaking, but Harry tuned him out, still thinking about his hand. Dumbledore had been doing something that was now leading to his slow, but inevitable death. What had he encountered during the space of one week that had done this to him? He’d been perfectly fine when he had come to Privet Drive, but the following Saturday… Had it been something related to defeating Voldemort, perhaps? Until the headmaster set Harry’s first private lesson with him, he had no way to be certain. “… and Mr. Filch, our caretaker, has asked me to say that there is a blanket ban on any joke items bought at the shop called Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes.” “No surprise there,” muttered Ginny to Harry, and he grinned back at her. “Those wishing to play for their House Quidditch team should give their names to their Heads of Houses as usual. We are also looking for new Quidditch commentators, who should do likewise. “We are pleased to welcome a new member of staff this year, Professor Slughorn” – Slughorn stood up, his bald head gleaming in the candlelight, his big waistcoated belly casting the table below into shadow – “is a former colleague of mine who has agreed to resume his old post of Potions master.” Whispers broke out all over the hall, save for Harry and his friends. Harry just grimaced and waited for the bombshell to drop. “Professor Snape, meanwhile,” said Dumbledore, raising his voice so that it carried over all the muttering, “will be taking over the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.” Loud mutterings filled the hall now. “Snape?” said Seamus indignantly. “Is he mad?” “I always said he was barking,” sighed Ron without any heat. Dumbledore chose at that moment to clear his throat for attention. He waited until the silence was absolute before continuing. “Now, as everybody in this Hall knows, Lord Voldemort and his followers are once more at large and gaining in strength.” The silence seemed to tauten and strain as Dumbledore spoke. Harry gripped Ginny’s hand as he waited to hear what the headmaster had to say. “I cannot emphasize strongly enough how dangerous the present situation is, and how much care each of us at Hogwarts must take to ensure that we remain safe. The castle’s magical fortifications have been strengthened over the summer, and we are protected in new and more powerful ways, but we must still guard scrupulously against carelessness on the part of any student or member of staff. I urge you, therefore, to abide by any security restrictions that your teachers might impose upon you, however irksome you might find them – in particular, the rule that you are not to be out of bed after hours. I implore you, should you notice anything strange or suspicious within or outside the castle, to report it to a member of staff immediately. I trust you to conduct yourselves, always, with the utmost regard for your own and others’ safety.” Dumbledore’s blue eyes swept over the students before he smiled once more. “But now, your beds await, as warm and comfortable as you could possibly wish, and I know that your top priority is to be well-rested for your lessons tomorrow. Let us therefore say good night. Pip pip!” With the usual deafening scraping noise, the benches were moved back and the hundreds of students began to file out of the Great Hall toward their dormitories. Ron trailed dutifully, if reluctantly after Hermione as she darted ahead to fulfill their prefect’s duty of shepherding the first years, and Ginny walked more slowly with Harry, neither of them in any particular hurry to join the massive throng of students that would inevitably crowd up the doors of the Great Hall in their haste to head for their varying common rooms. Neville stayed back with them. “What do you think happened to Dumbledore’s hand?” he asked them. “It looks just as bad as it did at the trial.” Harry shook his head. “No idea,” he said, “but I reckon it can’t be good, can it?” He didn’t dare tell Neville that Dumbledore was slowly dying. “Hi, Hagrid,” said Ginny loudly, attracting the boys’ attention. “Hey there, Ginny, Harry, Neville,” said Hagrid, beaming at them. “I trust the rest o’ yer summer was good.” “Yeah,” said Harry, smiling up at the half-giant. “How’s Grawp doing these days?” “He’s got a new home up in the mountains now,” said Hagrid cheerfully, “Dumbledore fixed it – nice big cave. He’s much happier than he was in the forest. We were havin’ a good chat.” “Really?” said Harry, thinking of how little Hagrid’s half-brother, a vicious giant with a talent for ripping up trees by the roots, hadn’t had much to say the single time he’d met him. “That’s – that’s nice.” “Oh yeah, he’s really come on,” said Hagrid proudly. “Yeh’ll be amazed. I was thinkin’ o’ trainin’ him up as me assistant.” Harry nodded, trying to keep the skepticism he felt from showing on his face. “Anyway, I’ll see yeh tomorrow Harry, firs’ lesson’s straight after lunch. Come early an’ yeh can say hell ter Buck – I mean, Witherwings!” Raising an arm in cheery farewell, he headed out of the front doors into the darkness. Harry stared after him. “You didn’t purchase the required materials for Care of Magical Creatures,” said Ginny. “I know,” said Harry. He looked at Neville. “You’re not taking Care of Magical Creatures, are you?” Neville shook his head quickly. “What about Ron and Hermione?” “I… I don’t think so, no,” said Harry quietly. It was a somber trio that made their way up to Gryffindor tower. Neville quickly headed up to their dormitory, but Harry hung back to say goodnight to Ginny. He noticed Romilda Vane and a couple of her friends lingering near the girls’ dormitory staircase, chatting idly and trying not to make it obvious that they were looking at him. “Is the whole school year going to be like this?” he muttered to Ginny. “You are quite the catch, Harry,” said Ginny with an amused grin. “Testifying against that toad of a woman, heir to a massive fortune, not to mention the whole –” Harry groaned and kissed Ginny to keep from hearing the words ‘Chosen One’ yet again. A moment later, he pulled away when a couple of girls nearby let out sobs and fled up the stairs. “What is the deal?” he asked Ginny in exasperation. “Did everyone actually believe that rubbish in the Daily Prophet?” “I think so, yeah,” said Ginny wryly. “Too bad for them I’m extremely possessive.” She pulled Harry into another kiss. “I’ll see you down here before breakfast?” Harry nodded, leaned close, and whispered, “I love you.” Ginny smiled at him, kissed him again, and whispered back, “I love you, too.” They parted ways for the night, Harry heading up to his dormitory to find everyone else already changed into their pajamas and climbing into their beds. “Took you long enough,” said Ron with a grin. “How long does it take to say goodnight to my sister?” “I’m sure I could’ve taken longer,” Harry teased him, striding to his trunk to dig out his nightclothes as Ron snorted and tossed his pillow at him. Harry easily caught it and threw it back, nailing Ron right in the face. “How are you okay with this?” demanded Dean suddenly. Harry glanced over at him to see him glaring at Ron. “Your best friend is seeing your sister!” “I wasn’t aware that I was supposed to automatically disqualify Harry from seeing Ginny,” said Ron, ears going red as he shoved his pillow behind him. “What’s it to you, anyway?” Dean glared at Ron, but turned away silently and clambered into his bed, quickly drawing his curtains shut. Harry hesitated, then got ready for bed without another word. He had sensed that Dean wasn’t exactly all that happy about him and Ginny being together, but he hadn’t expected this. Pulling his own curtains shut around his bed, Harry quickly settled down and drifted off to sleep. Fred and George used to say that Ron could sleep like the dead. “The house could be blown up and he’d easily sleep through it!” George had laughed once. Ron hadn’t enjoyed the teasing, even though every word was true. Well, had been true. It wasn’t the case anymore. It wasn’t the shifting that first stirred Ron from sleep so much as it was the quiet whimpers and moans. It took him a few moments to figure out why he was awake, but then his eyes snapped open and he was quickly sliding out of his bed and crossing over to Harry’s. When Ron had been about to board the train to come to Hogwarts, Sirius had caught and pulled him aside for a brief moment. “He’s still having nightmares,” he had said. “Can I count on you to help him with that?” Ron had nodded without hesitation. “Does he still talk in his sleep sometimes?” “He’s woken me with his screams before,” had been Sirius’s tense reply. “Just – do what you can until I get some things in place to help.” “Harry,” whispered Ron now, carefully pulling the curtains surrounding Harry’s bed back. He could just make out Harry’s face in the darkness, and saw it scrunched up as he moaned again. After a moment’s hesitation, Ron reached out to try and gently wake Harry when he spoke. “Please don’t be dead…” Ron froze, hand inches from Harry’s shoulder. Those words were familiar somehow… and then it came to him. Two days after Harry had saved Ginny in the Chamber of Secrets, he had muttered similar words in his sleep when Ron had awoken in the middle of the night to use the toilet. It had been over three years ago, but it seemed that Voldemort’s intrusion into Harry’s mind had caused old memories to resurface. “Stop it… please stop…” Ron came back to himself and placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Wake up, Harry,” he muttered, shaking Harry gently, but Harry didn’t wake, instead curling into a tight ball on his side and mumbling incoherently into his pillow. Damn, Ron worried more when it was harder to wake Harry because it increased the chances of waking the others. He knew Neville wouldn’t mind (he never did), but Dean and Seamus were bound to be less forgiving considering their reactions the previous year. Ron shook Harry’s shoulder a little harder. “Harry, please wake up,” he whispered, but Harry groaned, tossing his head on his pillow a bit, and Ron was abruptly thrown back at once to the memory of holding Harry down in the hospital wing on that horrible night in June. “What’s wrong with him?” demanded Ron as Madam Pomfrey ushered him out of her way. “I thought you gave him Dreamless Sleep!” “I didn’t,” said Madam Pomfrey, sounding irritated and worried. “The Nerve Regeneration Potion he took –” “Nerve regeneration?” cut in Ginny. “What do you mean?” “The Cruciatus Curse attacks the nervous system,” snapped Madam Pomfrey as Harry tossed and turned on the bed. She waved her wand over him, muttering to herself, but nothing changed. Harry was still shifting about restlessly in his sleep, mumbling words that Ron couldn’t make out. “The Nerve Regeneration Potion he needed reacts adversely to the key ingredient that allows for a dreamless sleep, so I had to give him something milder that simply induces prolonged sleep.” “That’s right,” said Hermione quickly. “Professor Snape spoke about that last year –” “But he’s only like this when he’s dreaming about whatever You-Know-Who’s doing,” said Ron, not the least bit interested in anything Snape had ever said about any potions at that moment. “I’ve seen this before, this is how he is when he’s having a vision.” “Vision?” asked Neville sharply. “What –?” “He sees what You-Know-Who’s doing sometimes,” said Ginny, face pale as Madam Pomfrey continued to work over Harry to wake him up. “Right before Christmas holidays, when he was saying a snake had –” “Attacked your dad,” finished Neville. “He was right, he actually saw it?” Ron nodded. “That sounds horrible,” whispered Luna. “But – Ronald, how is it that he’s able to specifically see –?” “I can’t wake him,” said Madam Pomfrey abruptly, and she started barking out orders, sending Luna and Ginny scurrying for specific potions from her supplies and waving her wand over Harry again, muttering under her breath as the two girls came back carrying three vials of potions each. “The blue one,” she commanded, and Luna quickly handed the vial over. “Mr. Wealsey, I need you to hold down Mr. Potter temporarily while I get him to ingest this.” “Can’t you just do a Body Bind?” asked Ron as he hurried over to comply. “It interferes with his ability to swallow,” said Hermione at once, sounding worried. Ron ended up sitting at the head of the bed, leaning back as far as he could with Harry’s back resting against his chest. He wrapped his arms around Harry, holding his arms down as Madam Pomfrey positioned his head on Ron’s shoulder, opened his mouth, and poured the contents of the vial in. Harry immediately gagged, feet pushing hard enough against the bed to knock his head into Ron’s. He let go, and Harry slumped to the bed, eyes tightly screwed shut, his scar looking slightly inflamed. But he didn’t wake up. Madam Pomfrey waved her wand and then tried another potion, this one lime green, Neville planting himself at the foot of the bed to hold down Harry’s legs. Harry choked it down with mild assistance from the matron, some of it dribbling down his cheek, but Hermione was there with a handkerchief to wipe it away. Still, Harry didn’t wake. It went on and on, potions, spells, and more. Harry’s restlessness began to turn more and more violent, and Madam Pomfrey conjured restraints to hold Harry down after he managed to kick her in the side twice. Ron knew within moments that this was a mistake. Harry fought harder, the mumbling beginning to become words they could make out. “Stop it, let me go, please, get out of my head… no, you’re not supposed to see… not supposed to… NO!” “It’s not working!” cried out Hermione. “Please, Madam Pomfrey, isn’t there something else you can try?” The only solution that seemed to keep Harry from reacting as violently was physically holding him down. Hermione and Luna ended up at Harry’s feet, Neville and Ron with Harry’s arms, and Ginny at Harry’s head, keeping him from bashing into the headboard or anything else. “His scar looks so inflamed,” whispered Ginny at one point when Harry seemed to have a bit of lull where he wasn’t fighting as hard. “It’s got to be a vision,” said Hermione, “but it’s never lasted this long!” “What if…” said Ginny as Madam Pomfrey came back over with a book in one hand and another vial of potion in the other. “What?” asked Ron. “What if he’s reacted to something in the sleeping potion he took?” “It’s entirely possible,” said Madam Pomfrey. “Professor Dumbledore did not see fit to alert me to Mr. Potter’s… whatever this is – visions, you said? But I cannot seem to find a way to wake him. Nothing is working!” They had to switch up positions every so often as Madam Pomfrey continued to try and find a solution, Harry meandering between mumbling, shouting, and even crying, something Ron had never seen from his best friend. Sometimes he sounded like a small child as he begged to be let out, saying he was sorry and he didn’t do it. Ron had no idea what that was about, but it couldn’t be anything good. Time dragged on, everyone slowly feeling more and more haggard as nothing Madam Pomfrey tried worked for Harry. Luna was tense and scared, something Ron had never seen from her before, and Neville needed a second dose of Calming Draught as he started to work himself up again over the possibility that Harry might have been permanently damaged by the Cruciatus Curse, after all. Professor Snape entered the hospital wing about an hour and a half into Harry’s endless nightmare, apparently having been preoccupied with Umbridge and her Inquisitorial Squad goons. He took one look at Harry and proclaimed that they needed Professor Dumbledore there right away, that no one else would be able to wake him. He quickly left to seek the headmaster out himself, leaving the five teenagers with Madam Pomfrey to keep Harry as safe as possible for another half-hour or so before Dumbledore strode into the wing, dark blue robes sweeping behind him as he swiftly approached the bed. He had Ginny hold Harry’s head still as he withdrew his wand, leaned in close, and began to chant softly. Ron had never seen anything like it. Harry’s body tensed as he started screaming and flailing violently, and Ron redoubled his grip on Harry’s right arm as the headmaster continued to chant, words Ron didn’t understand flowing from his lips, wand lightly touching Harry’s scar. Then he withdrew. “Wake him,” he told Ron, and he didn’t hesitate, letting go of Harry’s arm to seize him by the shoulders. “Harry, wake up!” Harry’s eyes snapped open and he shot upright, Ron just barely catching him by the shoulders as he took in the glassy eyes and gasping breaths. He instantly recognized what was going on. Harry had leapt straight from the nightmare he’d been having into a panic attack. It had been a few days since the last one, and Ginny had sorted it out quite quickly, but Ginny wasn’t here this time. It was just Ron. “Harry,” he said softly, “hey, it’s Ron, you’re in Gryffindor Tower, we’re safe, mate, c’mon, I’m right here…” He kept it up, grabbing one of Harry’s hands like he’d seen Sirius do once and pressing it against his chest, trying his best to keep his breathing slow and even as Harry trembled beneath his hands, a tear leaking from a one eye as he stared sightlessly at a point just over Ron’s left shoulder. Slowly, but surely, Harry stopped gasping for air and began to breathe with Ron, the trembling eventually easing as his friend’s gaze focused. “Ron?” he finally whispered weakly. “Right here,” said Ron, doing his best to smile. Harry nodded a bit, pulling his hand away from Ron’s chest to cover his face. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I didn’t –” “Ginny’s rule, Harry,” said Ron quietly. Harry nodded again, propping his elbows on his knees and sighing. “I know,” he said, hands in his messy hair, “it’s just –” “Are we really going to have another year of you interrupting our sleep?” came Dean’s annoyed voice from the other side of the dormitory. His curtains were thrown back to reveal a deep scowl on his face. “Bugger off, Thomas,” snapped Ron at once. “You’re already on thin ice with me.” “How many nightmares does one bloke have to have, anyway?” asked Dean sourly. “It was almost every night after you got out of the hospital wing, Harry, you realize that, right?” Harry stiffened and glanced at Dean before slipping out of bed, grabbing his wand, dressing gown, and glasses, and then striding quickly from the room. “What is his deal?” demanded Dean. “What the hell is yours?” Ron shot back angrily as Seamus and Neville drew back their own curtains, each boy looking rumpled and tired. “I’m going to deduct points if you keep up with this shite attitude!” Dean glared at him. “So you’re perfectly content to start our first day of classes without a full nights’ rest, is that it?” “I wouldn’t have been up with Harry if I wasn’t okay with it.” “Well, I’m not okay with losing sleep like this!” snarled Dean. “You’re telling me there’s no way to keep him from bothering the rest of us?” “It doesn’t bother me,” said Neville, chin jutting out defiantly. Ron glanced at Seamus, who raised his hands defensively and muttered, “It’s a bit hard sometimes, I suppose.” “Here’s a thought,” said Ron, feeling hot around his ears as he clenched his fists at his sides. “Go do some research and figure it out for yourself! Harry’s doing the best he can, Dean. I mean, surely you’ve noticed that he’s gone through some bloody awful things lately.” He shook his head in disgust. “I reckon it takes someone with the emotional range of a teaspoon to not be more – more sensitive to that fact!” Snagging his own wand and his maroon dressing gown, Ron stomped from the room to go find Harry as he muttered angrily under his breath about insensitive pricks. He reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped into the common room to see Harry sitting on the rug before the dying fire, legs drawn tightly to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around them. “Hey,” said Ron quietly as he approached his friend. Harry shifted slightly, but otherwise didn’t acknowledge him. Sighing softly, Ron dropped down next to Harry and stared at the dying fire, as well. “Dean’s a git,” he finally said. “I almost took points for his poor attitude.” “He’s right, though,” said Harry so quietly Ron almost couldn’t hear him. “I’m starting to get a bit better during the day, but at night –” He broke off and shook his head. “I’d be annoyed if the same person kept waking me up at night over and over, too.” “Doesn’t give him the right to just have a go at you like that,” said Ron with a scowl. “I think he’s upset about you and Ginny being together, and he’s just taking it all out on you because you’re far less likely to curse him.” “I’m sure I could come up with something creative,” muttered Harry sullenly, and Ron chuckled a bit. “I told him he’s got the emotional range of a teaspoon.” Harry snorted. “Wouldn’t Hermione say that’s the pot calling the kettle black?” “I’ll have you know,” said Ron imperiously, “that I’ve improved to at least a tablespoon’s worth over the last few months.” Harry cracked a grin and ducked his head with a soft chuckle. “You probably have,” he allowed quietly. They sat in silence for some time. “Madam Pomfrey knows everything,” said Harry at length, not looking at Ron. “Sirius told her, and well… she er, wants me to check in with her every week to make sure I’m… getting better.” “Is that where you were earlier?” asked Ron. Harry nodded. “McGonagall says that Ginny had to do the same thing her second year.” Ron hadn’t known this, but it made sense. Ginny had made massive improvements during their stay in Egypt, but she had still been very reserved for most of the year from what he remembered. “Every week, huh?” Harry nodded and groaned. “I know I’m not exactly…” “Fine,” supplied Ron with a grin, and Harry rolled his eyes. “But every week?” he finished in frustration. “It does sound like a lot,” agreed Ron, “but that’s Madam Pomfrey for you.” “She’s got a house elf monitoring my sleep patterns, too.” Ron raised his eyebrows. “Very much the excessive style of our school nurse. I’m surprised this house elf of hers hasn’t come in here to demand you get back to bed.” “I don’t think that’s part of the job description,” said Harry. He hesitated, then asked, “Was Dean really upset?” Ron scowled. “Forget him,” he said. “I told him to go research how to ensure he gets his beauty sleep on his own rather than take it out on you.” He looked over at Harry. “We’ll figure this out, same as always,” he promised. Harry nodded. “On a less somber note,” he said, “I haven’t seen you make any moves yet.” “What?” “Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches, ring a bell?” Ron felt himself flush. “I’m still digesting it,” he muttered. “I told you I want to do it right, remember?” “I remember, yeah,” said Harry. “I did kind of expect more from you by now, though.” Ron snorted. “Jump in without thinking things through, you mean?” “Isn’t that our way?” Ron laughed at this. “Maybe that worked for you with Ginny, but I don’t think that’ll work with Hermione.” “No,” replied Harry with a grin, “I suppose not.” They sat comfortably in silence for a few more minutes before Ron encouraged Harry to go back up to their room to try and sleep. He hesitated, but gave in and followed Ron upstairs. When they entered the room, the curtains around Dean and Seamus’s four posters were drawn shut, but Neville’s were still open, and Ron could see the other boy was still awake. “Hey,” he said softly when Ron and Harry entered. “All right?” Harry nodded silently and quickly retreated to his bed, still looking withdrawn. Ron exchanged a sad look with Neville and followed suit. He had a feeling that Harry probably wouldn’t sleep well for the rest of the night, but despite his own worry, Ron quickly and easily drifted off to sleep. |
| Reviews 220 |
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