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Chapter 4 : Legilimens
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Harry Potter woke with a start and peered around the blurry hospital wing. He felt for his glasses on the bedside table and stuffed them onto his face. He looked around the quiet infirmary lit dimly by the glow of candles. He spotted Ron a few beds over.
He was apparently asleep. His brow was furrowed, and he was muttering heavily under his breath. Harry slumped back on his pillow, and his scar throbbed uncomfortably.
“What had happened in the room of requirement?” he thought. “Who had stopped him from taking the time-turner?”
“Oh good,” Madame Pompfry said stooping over him. “You’re up. We were very worried about you. You’ve been unconscious for nearly three days. If you hadn’t woken up soon, we were prepared to send you to St. Mungo’s, but thank goodness. You are lucky that you were found by that house-elf, Dobby, or who knows what would have happened, but it doesn’t matter now. I believe that Dumbledore would like to see you.”
Harry nodded slightly, and there was another jolt of pain in his scar. She shook her head and walked away saying something about, “What this school as had to put up with lately.”
Harry closed his eyes tightly trying hard to remember exactly what had happened, but the details were getting faint. Like a dream he had had, but was too tired to bother to remember it.
He tried had to grasp the fading image of the time turner on the table, his wand laying abandoned, and that voice. That voice. Why had it controlled him like that? Harry opened his eyes. He could not hold on any longer. The memory was gone. But then it had never really been there. Like the mist over the lake. It was there, but then again it wasn’t really.
Professor Dumbledore strode over to Harry looking more tired than usual.
“Mr. Potter,” Dumbledore began wearily, “do you have any idea who or what attacked you?” Harry fingered the edge of the blanket and tried to avoid Dumbledore’s gaze.
How could he tell Dumbledore that he could not remember anything that had happened? Seeming to understand Dumbledore nodded. “Curious,” Professor Dumbledore mumbled quietly. “I am sorry Harry,” he said. “Legilimens.”
Instantly Harry saw images of his life flashing before him. He saw Ron, head lolling hung in midair. He saw the Department of Mysteries. . . the black veil. . . Cedric dead. . . Hermione in the Three Broomsticks.
“No!” He thought desperately, but the more he resisted the deeper Dumbledore got. The sorting hat. . . finding Ginny in the Chamber of Secrets. . . talking with Sirius in the common room fire. Then something vaguely familiar. Something he couldn’t quite place.
He was pointing his wand towards himself. There was a flash of bright, and he saw himself thrown into the air and slam against the opposite wall. Dumbledore stopped and looked into the wide and staring eyes of a boy. The boy he had tried to help and protect.
“It seems, Mr. Potter,” Dumbledore said sadly, “that you would have done well to learn occlumency like I had instructed.” He gave Harry one last look and then walked slowly out of the infirmary.
Harry rolled over in his bed trying to decide on what he had seen. He certainly wouldn’t have cast the spell on himself, but their had been no one else there, and he had definitely seen it happen that way. And what had Dumbledore meant? What did occlumency have to do with anything? He lay thinking about that for awhile, and then he fell into a fitful sleep.
He was being carried by a giant frog across the countryside. They arrived in a small village and he got off at one of the large manors. It looked like no one had lived there for years, but he walked purposefully onto the porch and pushed open the front door.
He stepped into the vast entrance hall and looked around. The place seemed strangely familiar, like a place he had visited a long time ago. He started walking up the carpeted steps, bringing up dust and dirt with every step. On the landing he walked to the end of the hallway where there was an open door. The was a soft glow coming from inside. He could hear voices. He crept closer and peeped into the doorway.
“Rookwood, you fool!” One voice hissed. “Have I not wasted the past 15 years trying to kill him? It was him, Harry -” But the voices became fainter. Harry strained his eyes to catch that voice again, but it was growing softer and softer. The walls around him were evaporating. “Harry . . . Harry . . . Harry. . .”
“Harry.” His eyes snapped open and the hospital wing came into focus. Hermione was leaning over him looking slightly worried, but then she smiled she saw that he was okay.
“Harry, I am so glad that you are okay. Madame Pompfry said that you had awaken, but when I came over here you still looked... well anyway, Ron’s going to be all right. They made some more mandrake restorative, and Madame Pompfry says he will be back on his feet in a few days.”
Harry started to smile, but it faded quickly when he looked at her face. Silent tears were streaming down he cheeks. Her eyes, usually full of determination, were strangely out of focus.
“What’s wrong?” He asked her quietly.
“Oh, Harry. It’s. . . it’s -” She stopped. Harry looked into her sad, brown eyes. They seemed to be sliding in and out of focus. “It’s all my fault!” she burst.
“It’s not your fault,” he said calmly. She nodded and sat down on the bed next to his. They sat for awhile in silence broken only by occasional coughs coming from one of the beds down the row away.
“Why do you say it’s your fault?” Harry asked her. She didn’t answer him. He looked over at her, and she was staring absently out the window. He was about to say something else when -
“Harry!” Ron was propped on one elbow staring excitedly at Harry.
Hermione finally looked over. “Ron!” she exclaimed. She hurried over to his bed and bent down to give him a kiss.
The three of them talked and talked for a long time just like they used to. When everything was normal. Harry was so relieved to be on speaking terms with his two best friends that Hermione’s strange behavior was driven from his mind.
Finally Madame Pompfry came over and shooed Hermione out saying that Harry and Ron needed their rest. She hurried out promising to visit them tomorrow.
After insisting that he had stopped having headaches, Madame Pompfry released Harry a few days later. He met Ron out in the corridor, and they were about to go into the great hall for lunch when Professor McGonagall strode over.
“Potter, Weasley, follow me.”
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