Chapter 8 : Chapter Eight: The Visitor
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Harry looked around the room, bathed in a light blue light, he remembered that type of light, flickering as if from a pensive. No matter how hard Harry searched for it he couldn’t find the pensive.
“That’s odd,” said Harry out loud.
“Of course it is,” said a voice from behind him.
Harry’s heart lifted, he knew that voice. But it wasn’t the voice of the person he knew, it seemed wiser and for some odd reason changed. If he had not known in his heart who it was that had spoken he would not have known who it was behind him.
Trying to look over his shoulders, harry found out that he could not turn around. Nor could he seem to look around or move so that he could see behind him. All he could see was a mirror in front of him.
“Professor,” said Harry nervously.
“Yes Harry,” responded Dumbledore in the same voice.
“What happened to your voice?” asked Harry.
The man in the mirror was the same Dumbledore that Harry remembered from his early years at Hogwarts. He seemed less lined, smiling and had no withered hand. It seemed odd that he would sound this different.
“I have changed Harry look at me,” said Dumbledore, forcefully.
“I can’t,” said Harry looking into the mirror. “But I can see your reflection all right.”
“Mirrors do not tell the truth Harry, especially that one, do you remember what I told you in your first year.”
“You told me a lot of things in my first year,” said Harry.
“Right, I did.” The Dumbledore in the mirror smiled. “Well I told you how some men will stare at that mirror wondering if it tells them truth or lies, but-”
“It only tells you what you want to see,” said Harry.
“Look at me Harry,” commanded Dumbledore.
“I told you I can’t,” said Harry.
“Look Harry,” said Dumbledore.
Harry tried. “I can’t,” he sobbed going down to his knees.
“You do not understand what is happening,” said Dumbledore.
“I would if you told me,” snapped Harry.
“Open your eyes Harry,” said Dumbledore urgently.
Harry sat upright in bed, gasping for air. This dream, not quite as vivid as the dreams when he entered Voldemort’s mind, felt real. His scar burned. More perhaps than it ever had. Rage filled Harry. Moaning in pain, Harry rolled over onto his side, and fell off of the edge of the bed.
“Harry, mate,” said Ron turning on the light. “Are you-”
“I’m fine,” lied Harry.
“Shit, you’re pale,” said Ron. “What was it?”
“A dream,” murmured Harry.
“Like the snake one, is someone-”
“Nothing like that,” snapped Harry, looking out the window. “Just a dream.”
“You’re scar,” gasped Ron.
“What?” asked Harry, touching his forehead. It burned and caused him to nearly vomit with pain when he touched it.
“I’m getting Lupin,” said Ron getting out of bed, and running to the door. “Stay here.”
Harry took his hand away from his scar. In his palm, a bloody lightening blot glistened in the light of the crescent moon. He could feel blood dripping down his face now.
“He’s in here,” said Ron from the darkness of the hall.
Harry barely saw Lupin and Ron coming in. He couldn’t feel Lupin coming over and shaking him softly.
“Harry,” said Lupin, “What happened in this dream?”
“Dumbledore,” said Harry faintly. Everything was too much, rolling over, Harry vomited, and blacked out.
“He’s coming to,” said someone’s voice above him.
“I’ve seen him had dreams like this before,” said Ron’s voice. “But he’s never gotten like this. He’s face is really green-”
“Naturally Ron,” said Hermione, “He’s just been sick.”
“Four times,” said Ron. “Once he almost got sick all over Lupin.”
“It’s not funny Ron,” said Hermione. “Harry could really be hurt.”
“And look at his scar,” said Ron. “It hasn’t stopped bleeding.”
Harry tried to open up his eyes, but he couldn’t. “Why?” asked Harry hoarsely.
He could hear Hermione jump and gasp, it sounded like Ron stumbled back.
“Harry,” said Lupin. “How do you feel?”
“Horrible.” Harry opened up his eyes, and found himself in his bed. Everything was blurry, so Harry reasoned that his glasses were not on his face. Sure enough, Hermione walked over to Harry and placed his glasses on his face. “Thanks Hermione.”
She mouthed, “Your welcome.”
Harry touched his scar. Gasping he looked at his fingers now, covered in old dried blood, and shining new blood. “Why is it doing this?” asked Harry.
“We hoped that you could tell us,” said McGonagal.
“I don’t know,” stammered Harry. “After Ron left the room, after I woke up from the dream, I touched my scar and it was bleeding. I don’t-”
“Harry,” said Lupin, “What was your dream about?”
“I dunno.” All this pain was clouding most of his thoughts, so he couldn’t tell Lupin what his middle name was.
“Harry,” said Mr. Weasley, who was in the room along with Mrs. Weasley and Tonks. “It most critical that you tell us exactly what happened, otherwise we won’t be able to help at all. We must know what was about. If Voldemort is doing something then-”
“Not Voldemort,” said Harry, “Dumbledore.” He remembered it know, some of the pain was lifting, he touched his scar, but it still was bleeding.
“A dream about Dumbledore did that to you,” said Tonks skeptically.
Lupin flashed her a look that told her to shut up. “Could Voldemort have pretended to be Dumbledore, just to create a false ease for you, thus setting you up for a, er-, greater attack, like what you are going through now?”
“Possibly,” said Harry. “But he is mad. I can feel it, he must have been in my mind when I had the dream the way I could go into his, like Dumbledore said. Something about the dream must have pissed him off because he is so livid.”
“Maybe,” theorized Tonks, “Harry’s scar is bleeding because the emotion that Voldemort is feeling is the strongest that he has ever felt, thus causing Harry’s scar to bleed.”
“That’s the most sense you’ve made all day,” said Lupin staring at her.
“It is possible,” said McGonagal. “That would me that Dumbledore was indeed correct about Harry and Voldemort having a connection because of the scar, only stronger than he thought.”
“Do you know how it can stop him bleeding?” asked Hermione. “He’s going to die if you don’t find a way to stop it.”
“Kind of like the Sectumsempra cuts,” joked Harry.
“Potter that is not funny,” snapped McGonagal. “Mr. Malfoy could have died and you just may.”
“Yeah, well only after Snape healed him did you find out whose side both of them were really on, wouldn’t you liked it better if Malfoy had died and I did it to Snape as well,” retorted Harry. “Wait a moment,” he said, realizing what he had just said. “Hermione did the Prince write which spell works against the Sectumsempra cuts?”
“Maybe,” said Hermione. “Wait a moment.” She ran out of the room and came back moments later with one of the journals. Opening the journal, Hermione flipped to the back page, where the list of spells the Half-Blood Prince had created. “Here it is.” Taking out her wand, she pointed her wand at his forehead and said the spell. It took four times for the spell to stop the blood.
“That’s more than Snape used on Malfoy,” remarked Harry.
“That is probably because it is stronger magic than Sectumsempra,” said Lupin.
Later on that day Harry couldn’t shake off the stares off of the others. “What?” he said to Tonks. ‘Why are you staring at me like that?”
Tonks smiled, “No reason.”
“You do realized,” said Ginny, “That it is your birthday.”
Everyone looked at her.
“Right,” said Lupin. “Lost track of the date.”
“What do you mean?” asked Harry. “Yesterday was the 28th, how could-”
“Harry,” said Hermione, “You were like that for days. We couldn’t wake you up.”
Harry stared at the floor boards, feeling embarrassed. “Well, um...”
“Wow, Remus,” said Tonks, “Someone less articulate than you.”
“Shut up,” said Lupin.
“So you’re a man today Harry,” said Ron. “How do you want to celebrate? Strippers? Lap dancers?”
Harry snorted, “That’s disgusting Ron.”
“And if you do that,” said Ginny, “Both of you will never have kids.”
“Is that a threat?” asked Ron.
“Why should you care?” asked Harry.
Ginny shrugged her shoulders.
“Come on,” said Ron. “We need to have fun.”
“Fun?” said Harry. “Hermione spent all of her birthday in the library, wait that is fun for her.” Hermione made a face at him. “Ron you spent most of it in the hospital wing-”
“Exactly,” said Ron. “And that is why we need to do something fun, mate. Otherwise there would be nothing special about the day.”
“I’m trying to remember what James did when he came of age,” said Lupin. “I remember Peter was dared by Sirius on his to drink seventeen shots of vodka that he had smuggled in.”
“What happened,” asked Ginny.
“He was so sick the next day, barely made it to ten without getting sick,” said Lupin. “Sirius was third, he burned all of the things that he parents had gave him and started to make plans to get his own house. For mine we all went over to James’ house and had a really great party, since it was august.”
“So what did my dad do for his?” asked Harry.
“I don’t remember. I actually think that I am glad not to remember, wait, I remember now.”
“That was the night that he saved Snape,” said Lupin cooly.
“So what do you plan to do for your birthday?” asked Hermione.
“I was thinking of maybe going to Goderic’s Hollow,” said Harry.
He saw Lupin, Tonks and McGonagal exchange looks.
“I’ll take you Harry,” said Lupin.
“I want to go back, and since you want to, why not.” Lupin shrugged his shoulders. “I mean it is just easier that way.”
“Could we come?” asked Hermione.
“Yeah,” said Ron. “We want to be there for Harry.”
“If you want to,” said Lupin.
They arrived at Goderic’s Hallow in the late afternoon. Though the sun had not set yet, it seemed at if night would soon come. They walked through a path with trees hanging so low that Ron and Lupin had to duck their heads and Hermione and Harry got hit on the head once or twice.
“No one has been down here in well over a decade,” said Lupin apologetically.
Once they came out of the path, Lupin pointed to a house. “That was where your parents lived, Harry.”
The house had ivy crawling up it, and it seemed decrypted.
“Can we go in?” asked Harry nervously.
“Harry,” began Hermione, “It doesn’t look safe.”
“You wouldn’t want to go in there Harry,” said Lupin. “There is quite literally, er-, nothing in there.”
“What do you mean?” asked Harry.
“Well when Voldemort tried to kill you Harry, it was more than him that took the effect of the curse,” said Lupin. “The things inside the house were mostly destroyed. I was in there. You can’t walk around much, since upstairs most of the floor is stripped away, and most of the things in there were cleaned out. I believe your grandparents have the things that survived.”
“What?!” said Harry.
“Or did,” said Lupin. “They were alive at the time. I
don’t know if they are alive or not.”
“Could I meet them, if they are alive?” asked Harry.
“No,” said Lupin sharply.
“Why not?” asked Harry.
“Because,” said Lupin, “They were not to happy with James marring Lily. I doubt that they would want to see you.”
Harry lapsed into silence looking at the abandoned house. He walked to the door and opened it despite Lupin’s protests. He had been right. The place was bare and empty and in several places missing floor boards. Ignoring this, Harry walked around the house, looking at everything and the moss that grew all over the place. Vines of ivy covered some patches making the place seem almost unreal.
“Harry,” said Ron.
“You shouldn’t be here,” said Hermione. Apparently both of them had followed him.
“I wasn’t going to say that,” said Ron.
“Well you were going to encourage him,” said Hermione.
“Look, Lupin’s upstairs,” said Ron. “Why shouldn’t Harry be in here.”
“Lupin only went up there because he thought Harry was there,” said Hermione.
“My parents lived here,” said Harry. “And I did too. I can’t remember living here, but it must have been great. Living here with my mum and dad, the baby me must have been so happy. Shame it couldn’t have lasted. Damn Snape and Wormtail for betraying them to Voldemort.”
Hermione touched Harry on the cheek softly. “But didn’t you say-”
“Dumbledore said that Snape didn’t know that it would be my parents killed,” said Harry. “But I think he did know. I think that he secretly hoped. The bastard, I hate him so much. I would love to get even with him.”
“Do you reckon,” said Ron abruptly, “That we should fallow Lupin?”
“Why?” asked Harry.
“Well,” said Ron. “He’s taken a leaf out of Tonks’ book incase you haven’t noticed.”
“You mean he just dyed his hair pink,” joked Harry raising an eyebrow. “If he wants to cover up the grey than he’d better stick to natural colours.”
“No Harry,” said Hermione. “He just gets sort of depressed.”
“Why?” said Harry. “He has Tonks. Don’t you think that they do things together that would make him happy?”
“Maybe they don’t have sex-” began Hermione.
“Hermione,” said Ron. “You weren’t the one who had to go into Lupin’s room to get him.”
“Was she there?” asked Hermione.
Ron turned purple. “I am getting someone who isn’t sleeping with someone next time you have a fit Harry.”
“Sorry mate,” said Harry.
“I mean it isn’t like you haven’t seen it before,” said Hermione. “After all you and Lavender, Won-Won.”
“Shit,” he said. “Don’t remind me.”
“Wait,” said Harry. “You and her-”
“Sorry you didn’t get the memo,” said Ron. “But I did actually do something with her besides kissing. I mean,” he looked at Hermione, “I am not the only non-virgin here.”
Hermione slapped Ron squarely in the face.
“What?” asked Ron.
Harry felt like laughing, but he couldn’t when he looked at Hermione’s expression.
“Ronald Weasley,” said Hermione, “If you ever say something like that again, I’ll curse you. How dare you say something like that!”
“Well what did happen with you and Krum?” asked Ron.
Hermione slapped him again. “Nothing! It is none of your business what happened any ways.”
Ron felt his face, and looked at Harry.
“You deserved it mate,” said Harry.
“Do you think that I haven’t heard people call me whore and worse names behind my back?” said Hermione. “Do you think that people haven’t thought things like that because I hang out with two boys instead of girls? Do you think that some people called me whore because of Rita Skeeter’s article? All the time people call me things like that, and I have always ignored it because I always thought that you wouldn’t give a shit about it and still be my friend. I always hoped that, well never mind. I guess that now you think of me as some sort of groupie you don’t care how I feel. And if you think that you can get something I am not going to be your friend anymore Ronald.”
Ron looked at her, open mouthed. “I didn’t mean it Hermione. I just thought-”
“You thought that I was such a whore at the age of fifteen that I would sleep with an eighteen-year-old, right. Or no wait, you were implying that I was such a whore that I would do something like that.”
Ron stared at her. “No Hermione-”
“Right, because secretly you wish that I was, right?” Hermione was crying now. She sank to the floor and started to sob.
Ron knelt down beside her. “I only thought that you two did have sex.” He touched her softly on the back.
Hermione pulled away from his touch. “Don’t touch me, Ron.”
She looked at him. “And just so you do know, Ron, I am a virgin. Viktor wanted me to give it up to him, but I realised that I could give it to someone better.”
“Who?” asked Ron. “Harry? Draco?”
Hermione stood up. “You’re so thick, Ron.”
Ron looked at Harry. Harry looked away. He got what Ron couldn’t, and felt sorry almost sorry for Hermione and sorry for Ron for not getting it. “How about going up and getting Lupin,” suggested Harry.
Hermione sniffed. “I suppose so.” She let Ron go up ahead of them. “Sorry about that Harry. It is just I have been called that so many times and I sort of lost it when I thought that Ron was calling me it. I really didn’t want to loose it, it is just-”
They came up the stairs to a hall way that Harry could almost remember from where it was still whole. “That was my parents’ bedroom,” he said as they past it, stepping over the large hole with no floor boards.
“How do you know?” asked Ron.
“I do.” Next to that room, Harry saw Lupin there, standing with his back to the door, looking at the corner. “Hi Lupin,” said Harry.
Lupin jumped. “Hello Harry, Ron and Hermione.” His voice was the same sharp voice that Harry had only heard once before, just after Sirius had gone beyond the veil. “This was your room Harry.”
He had known it, but he wasn’t ready for it. A shudder ran down his spine. This was where his mom had died, the corner that Lupin was looking at had to have been where a crib once stood, where Lily had been holding the much younger Harry, shielding him from Voldemort. That corner was where Voldemort had pointed his wand at Lily and uttered the curse that killed her, then turned his wand to the boy, and said the curse that would go back to him and cause him to be reduced to absolutely nothing more than a cruel shadow for ten years.
“She died here,” said Harry.
“Yes,” said Lupin. “And your dad died right where they aren’t anymore floor boards. Voldemort’s curse must have blasted him through the floor, since they found him below.”
Harry shuddered. “He was such a monster for doing this.” He felt something growing within him, this rage that he hadn't felt before. He had found another reason why he was fighting Voldemort, because the pain of the loss that he made was unbearable. He thought of all the people Voldemort had killed and realised just how many people must have cared about those people. The pain that Voldemort had caused had to have been greater than anything else he had done.
“He has to be stopped Lupin,” he said meekly.
“I know Harry,” said Lupin.
“That’s why we are with you, Harry,” said Hermione.
“Because we want to kick some Voldemort ass,” joked Ron.
Harry smiled meekly.
“Sorry Professor,” said Ron quickly.
“I don’t care,” said Lupin. “And I’m not your teacher so don’t call me that anymore.”
“all right, Lupin-”
“Sure, Remus,” said Ron smiling.
“So, um... Remus,” said Harry trying out this new way of calling the last Marauder. “Should we go to the graveyard if it is near by?”
“Um...” said Lupin. “Sure.”
The graveyard was dead silent, night had begun to fall when they got there, so Lupin illuminated his wand, Harry, Hermione and Ron all followed suit.
“There they are,” said Lupin stopping at to graves that were side by side. “James Potter and Lily Evans Potter, both 26 years old when they died.”
Harry touched the headstones. He could feel all sorts of emotions welling up in him. He could sense Ron and Hermione standing far away and watching him, and Lupin close by, looking at the grave of two of his friends.
The gravestones were smooth marble and stood around the dead bodies of other muggles and wizards dead long before them and after them in some cases. None of them knew what brave people his parents had been, since non of them would ever truly understand what had happened. Harry himself didn’t fully understand everything, but he knew enough to be able to feel something for his parents.
The inscription on the granite head stones gave nothing special about them. It would never enlighten the reader as to what these people, buried for close to two decades had done, how much they had scarified. They, to the reader, would just be normal people who had died. They would be as ordinary as most of the bodies underneath the dirt. Nothing special about them.
But, Harry knew that that was wrong. Harry knew that underneath him were the bodies of two of the bravest people he had ever heard of. They had died to save him. They scarfed everything to ensure that their son could stay alive, even if it meant they could never see him again. But Harry did see them. Harry saw them in the mirror of Erised, and when he and Voldemort’s wands tried to fight. They were still there for him, their blood was in his veins, Lily’s sacrifice was what had kept Harry safe for all of these years.
He felt grief that he had never got to know them as parents. All he had was shadows of them from memories, spells and enchanted mirrors. He never had parents there for him when he needed them. Lily never got to get all teary when he went off to school for the first time, and James would never be proud when his son made the Quidditch team. Voldemort had taken that from him.
He felt jealous that some people, like Ron and Hermione, had parents who could do that.
And he felt sad that they could never appreciate that the way that he did when he found someone like that. Someone like Sirius or Dumbledore, who cared for him. But once again, they had been taken away from him because of Voldemort wanting them dead.
He felt anger, because Voldemort had done this. Everyone that got close to him had to go. He didn’t know who would be next, Ron or Hermione, or Ginny even. All he knew was that if he cared about someone they would die, and that was the end of that.
After over an hour, he turned back to Lupin and said hoarsely, “Let’s go back.” He could tell that he was crying and as they walked out of the cemetery he felt his heart grow lighter, as if a burden had been lifted from his chest. Harry now truly knew what it meant to him for his parents to be dead. He know understood just how much he missed them.
The got back to Grimmald Place at around nine. Ron was hungry, and so was Hermione. Harry for some reason was not. Lupin went up to his room. Harry almost felt sorry for him. He is probably the only one who really understands what I am feeling right now.
Following his friends down to the kitchen, Harry stopped when they did to stare at who was sitting at the kitchen table with McGonagal and Tonks.
The pit of his stomach dropped as McGonagal and Tonks turned to look at who had just come down the stairs, and he felt sick when the person looked at them and smiled, in a way that Harry always associated with them. But if they were here, it would mean that there would have to be a lot of explaining, for Harry couldn’t believe his own eyes.
“Harry,” said Ron weakly.
“It’s not possible,” said Hermione.
Harry couldn’t explain what was going on inside his mind, but everything seemed wrong. “Could you please explain to me what the hell is going on?”
A/N: don’t own Harry Potter. or the picture, it’s by Linnpuzzle.
Wow, I leave a little cliffy. This ought to be fun. I wonder who you all think it is. Hehe... no, it’s not Cedric, sorry, so don’t get your hopes up. Please leave a review so I can know what you think of this. Man. I was really going on this one, couldn’t stop. hehe, one of my longer ones in this fic.
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