Chapter 8: Revelation
Grimmauld Place, December 21st 1995
I'm in my bedroom, well, not really my room, but the one Ron and I shared the last time we were here, at Grimmauld Place. I stare at the wall opposite to me, trying to stay awake by pressing myself against the hard metal bars on the bedstead. I try to focus on the sound of Ron's snoring, but it only makes me want to close my eyes more. I can't let myself fall asleep. Not after what happened the last time I slept. Not after dreaming about being inside a giant snake and then attacking Mr. Weasley. Because that is how it went. It was me. I was the snake. And now I have to stay awake, so I don't hurt anyone else.
Eventually Ron wakes up, and I make it seem like I too had a quick nap. We go to lunch and change our clothes before heading towards St Mungo's. Everyone around me seems to be in high spirits after being on pins and needles the previous night, desperately waiting news about Mr. Weasley.
Sirius is thrilled to have so many people surrounding him again, not to mention by the prospect of having everyone staying at Grimmauld Place for Christmas. Even though I want to feel that same joy and relief, I can't help but feel terrified.
After lunch, we travel across muggle London by Underground, with Tonks and Mad-Eye escorting us. Tonks tries to chat with me while we sit side by side on the train, but I only manage to mumble something to her in reply. I really don't feel like talking to anyone.
We get off in the centre of London, where we step into the busy street, packed with Christmas shoppers. I follow the group and eventually stop in front of a large department store, called Purge 6z Dowse Ltd.
"Here we go," Moody says as he walks past me towards the display window.
The store seems to be empty and it looks like it has been abandoned in the middle of restoration. I hear two women make remarks about the store, wondering if the place is ever going to open as they pass us and the building.
My eyes travel along the front of the building, from the rusty doors to the chipped dummies in the display window, but I see nothing that indicates that the place is a wizarding hospital. Just as I'm about to ask Moody where the entrance is, Tonks speaks to one of the broken dummies. Realising how odd it must look; leaning against a window of a closed department store and speaking to a dummy, I quickly enter through the glass with the others after the dummy gives Tonks a small nod and beckons us to move forward.
What awaits us on the other side of the glass is not a bunch of old and dusty dummies, but a large reception area of the wizarding hospital. St Mungo's Hospital.
The waiting room is filled with several wizards and witches, some of them sporting nasty disfigurements or obvious magical injuries, while others merely sit on the wobbly, mismatched chairs and flip through magazines or chat with each other, seeming perfectly well. There's a man with canary feathers instead of his hair, and a long feathery tail trailing behind him as he walks across the room. A woman is literally barking to one of the receptionists as she desperately tries to explain herself.
I learn that the witches and wizards with a crossed wand and bone embroidered in their lime-green robes are called Healers, the equivalent of doctors in the muggle world. Mrs. Weasley talks with one of the receptionists and a moment later we follow her towards the Dai Llewellyn Ward on the first floor.
On our way we pass several Healers who hurry along the corridor, and many doors which lead to examination rooms from where sounds of moaning and howling carry out. Eventually we find Mr. Weasley's room and Mrs. Weasley ushers me in with the rest of her family, while Mad-Eye and Tonks stay behind in the corridor.
I step into the small room occupying three patients. Mr. Weasley is at the far end, looking rather cheerful, all things considered. He chatters happily about everything but the topic where he had been when the attack had happened. Fred and George try to badger him about it, but Mrs. Weasley soon reins them in.
After a while, Fred, George, Ron, Ginny and I step outside to wait while Mad-Eye and Tonks join Mrs. Weasley to chat with Mr. Weasley. We of course know they'll be speaking about the attack, and the twins dig out a handful of Extendable Ears from their pockets. We start to listen to the conversation behind the closed door, and indeed they are talking about the attack, how the snake got in – wherever it is Mr. Weasley was – and how it got out before no one managed to capture it.
Then they mention my name. My heart starts to hammer uncomfortably inside my chest.
"…So, Potter says he saw it all happen?" Moody asks with an indistinct voice.
"Yes," Mrs. Weasley says, sounding anxious. "You know, Dumbledore seems almost to have been waiting for Harry to see something like this," she continues quietly.
"Yeah, well," Moody grunts, "there's something funny about the Potter kid, we all know that."
I can hear the others hum with agreement. "Dumbledore seemed worried about Harry when I spoke to him this morning," Mrs. Weasley says carefully.
"Course he's worried," Moody says with a hint of irritation. "The boy's seeing things from inside You-Know-Who's snake. Obviously, Potter doesn't realise what that means, but if You-Know-Who's possessing him —"
I rip the Extendable Ear out of my own, not able to listen anymore. Shaking slightly, I glance at my friends, speechless by the speculation inside the hospital room. My friends stare at me, Extendible Ears still hanging from their ears, a mix of fear and shock on their faces.
The travel back to Grimmauld Place is quiet, and I cannot even look at the others. I feel filthy, stained and disgusting. Even though I had been suspecting that I am possessed by Voldemort, hearing it from the others feels like confirmation. I reckon this is the reason Dumbledore doesn't want to look at me. Because Dumbledore would see him. Voldemort.
I am the weapon he was after. He wanted to possess me to learn about the Order. He wanted to use me to hurt others around me. And he has succeeded. That is why I'm constantly being guarded or followed. The Order members guarding me are not there for my protection, but for the protection of others around me.
The thought makes me feel nauseated. The moment we step into Sirius's house, I run upstairs into my room. I need to figure out what to do next. How to protect the others from me.
How can I be the snake? How is that even possible? Questions keep flooding my head as I pace across the room. Was Voldemort an Animagus? And when he possessed me, we both turned into snakes? Is that even possible? Did Voldemort somehow apparate me to London and back?
As minutes go by, I'm more and more convinced that I'm putting everyone around me in danger. If Voldemort can possess me, he could learn where the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix is, and he could attack most of its members. I know what I must do. I need to leave. The others are safer if I'm not here.
After making up my mind, I start collecting my things. I know I can't go back to Hogwarts either. I can't be around wizarding people. So…Privet Drive it is, I conclude with a sinking feeling in my stomach.
Just when I have managed to drag my trunk halfway across the room, the portrait of Phineas Nigellus, a previous Headmaster of Hogwarts, speaks.
"Running away, are we?" He says with an unpleasant tone.
I turn to look at the previously empty portrait, and there he is now, leaning against the frame, eyeing me speculatively.
"Not running away, no," I reply to him curtly and turn to continue towards the door.
"I thought," Phineas says slowly, "that to belong in Gryffindor house, you were supposed to be brave. It looks to me as though you would have been better off in my own house. We Slytherins are brave, yes, but not stupid. For instance, given the choice, we will always choose to save our own necks." He says simply, an amused glint in his eyes.
I narrow my eyes at the portrait, feeling annoyed. "It's not my own neck I'm saving," I say to him simply and pull my trunk a bit forward.
"Oh, I see," Phineas drawls indifferently, "this is no cowardly flight - you are being noble."
I know he's only trying to goad me into some unguarded response so I ignore him and finally reach the doorknob.
"I have a message for you from Albus Dumbledore."
I whirl around. "What is it?" I ask urgently, dropping my trunk loudly on the floor.
"'Stay where you are.'"
I lift my brows at him, waiting for the message. "I haven't moved," I tell him. "So, what's the message?"
Phineas rolls his eyes. "I have just given it to you, dolt," he says simply. "Dumbledore says, 'Stay where you are.'"
Confusion fills me. "Why?" I ask hastily. "Why does he want me to stay? What else did he say?"
Phineas shrugs. "Nothing whatsoever," he says, studying his nails as though they are more interesting than the conversation.
Anger and frustration surge inside me. That's it? Stay where you are? After everything I've been through, after everything that has happened during the past few days? Or months. Or even years. And Dumbledore doesn't have anything else to say to me.
I feel bitter, untrustworthy. I feel betrayed.
"So that's it, is it?" I say darkly. "'Stay where you are'! That's all anyone could tell me after I got attacked by those Dementors, too! Just stay put while the grown-ups sort it out, Harry! We won't bother telling you anything, though, because your tiny little brain might not be able to cope with it!" I say nastily.
"You know," Phineas says loudly, "this is precisely why I loathed being a teacher! Young people are so infernally convinced that they are absolutely right about everything. Has it not occurred to you, my poor puffed-up popinjay, that there might be an excellent reason why the Headmaster of Hogwarts is not confiding every tiny detail of his plans to you? Have you never paused, while feeling hard-done-by, to note that following Dumbledore's orders has never yet led you into harm? No. No, like all young people, you are quite sure that you alone feel and think, you alone recognise danger, you alone are the only one clever enough to realise what the Dark Lord may be planning –"
"He is planning something to do with me, then?" I interrupt him, feeling almost triumphant.
Phineas arches a brow at me. "Did I say that?" He says with a bored voice. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have better things to do than listen to adolescent agonising… good day to you," he says with finality before he moves away from his frame, disappearing from it.
I let out a frustrated growl. "Fine, go then!" I yell at the empty frame. "And tell Dumbledore thanks for nothing!"
My words fall on deaf ears, since the frame remains empty and silent. I aim an angry kick to my trunk, and only manage to hurt my foot in the process. "Shit!" I grunt and hop towards my bed, leaving my trunk where it is as I lay down on the ragged covers. My head feels heavy with thoughts. So much has happened during the past couple of days. Was it only yesterday, when I was under the mistletoe with Cho Chang? I try to remember my first kiss but I can't. I just can't.
I'm afraid to go to sleep, even though I'm so tired that I could probably sleep while standing up. What if I turn into a snake again? What if I kill someone? My eyes feel heavier and heavier, and I can't keep myself awake anymore.
As soon as sleep takes over, I start dreaming about the door. It's the same dream I've had multiple times now. I want to get through the door, but I can't. I try to open it, because I know that inside…lies something I desire the most.
Grimmauld Place, December 22nd 1995
In the morning, the Weasleys and my godfather are cheerfully putting up Christmas decorations. I decide to stay away from everyone, and instead spend the day in the many unused rooms in the house. I succeed to avoid company, at least until Hermione arrives and orders me to come back to my room to talk with the others.
After a long talk, it seems that my friends think I'm not possessed, and in the end, I let myself believe them. I want to believe them. Nevertheless, believing it doesn't put me completely at ease. There is still a connection between me and Voldemort. But how deep and dangerous, that is the question, isn't it?
Sirius at least is fully enjoying the situation. He's filled with laughter and joy, bouncing from room to room, chatting happily with everyone while decorating the house and humming Christmas songs. I realise it must have been a long time since he has had the opportunity to celebrate Christmas with friends and family. As I study him, laughing with Fred and George in the drawing room corner, my mind drifts to the night we arrived here.
I hadn't paid much attention to it then, but I now remember how he had smelled like he had swallowed a bottle of Firewhiskey and a pack of cigarettes. He had been unshaven and dishevelled. Even if he had visibly brightened the moment he saw us, there was still a flash of misery in his eyes. I wonder how he has been these past months.
When the schoolyear started and everyone left Grimmauld Place, I thought he wouldn't feel like he was left behind, or left alone. Because he still had his brother here. I glance around the room, and almost everyone else is there, or in the kitchen downstairs. Except for Regulus.
"Hey, Ron?" I say and glance at my friend, who is in the process of separating a bunch of silver Christmas ornaments from a tangled pile – the only ones not cursed, Sirius had said before discarding several other boxes of decorations.
Ron grunts absentmindedly, and after managing to separate one ornament from the others, he turns to look at me. "Yeah, mate?"
"Have you seen Sirius's brother?" I ask quietly, and my gaze flickers back to my godfather, who I'm rather sure just discreetly passed a small parcel to the twins. I hope Molly doesn't find out about it, since my godfather has been in her good books the last couple of days. I look at Ron again. "I mean, he is still here, right?"
Ron seems thoughtful for a moment. "Yeah, I reckon he is. Haven't seen him though. Why?" He asks and tears a couple of ornaments away from the pile while cursing under his breath. Molly has forbidden us from using magic, and Ron has made it clear what his thoughts are regarding that. Even though we probably could get away with it since there's a handful of adults who use magic near us, Molly doesn't want to take any risks.
I contemplate what to say. I don't want to speak badly about my godfather, but I reckon Ron too has seen the change in him. I look at Sirius again when I speak quietly. "You think it's been shit for him? Being trapped in here while his friends are out there?"
Ron too glances at his brothers and my godfather. "Probably…Although, it makes me wonder…"
"What?" I ask quickly and turn to look at my friend.
Ron gives me a knowing look. "You know, if Sirius and his brother are not getting along as well as they let everyone think back then…"
I give him a slow nod. "Yeah, that's what I thought…" I mutter, a deep frown between my brows.
We continue with the decorations, and my thoughts wander back to Sirius's brother. I feel a pang of irritation on behalf of my godfather. He's been through so much in his life already…Why won't his brother be there for him, when he needs it the most?
Grimmauld Place, December 25th 1995
On Christmas morning, Ron and I open our presents in our bedroom with Hermione and Ron's siblings. I make a quick dash to the bathroom while the others head towards downstairs, and when I emerge into the hallway, I run into Regulus.
"Oh. Hi." I manage to say, surprised to see him finally. It is clear he's been avoiding everyone.
He gives me a curt nod, looking moody and irritated. "Hello."
The tone in his voice makes me bristle. "Merry Christmas," I say with a hint of sarcasm in my voice.
Regulus lifts a brow at me. "Yes. Merry Christmas." He says simply and gives me a once over, clearly disapproving my attire. Everyone, but him of course, is wearing their night gear for Christmas breakfast. Not that I'm expecting him to join us.
"Excuse me," He mutters and pushes past me, heading towards upstairs.
I grit my teeth together. His behaviour is annoying, and I can't understand why he has started to act like a prick. I manage to shrug the thoughts away and make my way to the basement.
Later that day we visit Mr. Weasley at St Mungo's again. He's looking much better, and we stay there for a while until Mrs. Weasley finds out about her husband letting his Trainee Healer try muggle stitches into his wound. Mrs. Weasley's shrill voice fills the corridor as Ron, Hermione, Ginny and I run for the tearoom.
On our way there, we run into familiar faces. At first, we bump into Lockhart, our previous twat-of-a-professor who's locked up in the Spell Damage ward after the Memory Charm he cast by Ron's damaged wand backfired. After we manage to shrug him off, we see Neville and his grandmother, visiting Neville's parents who happen to be at the same ward.
I knew about Neville's parents, what happened to them, but for some reason, I hadn't realised that they would be here. Last year, Dumbledore told me about them, how they were tortured into insanity by Death Eaters, and I even saw Dumbledore's memory of the court trial where Bellatrix, Rabastan, Rodolphus and Crouch Jr. were sentenced to life in Azkaban because of it. Hermione, Ron and Ginny are shocked by the news and stay silent on our way back to Grimmauld Place.
"Where's your brother?" I ask from Sirius as we sit in the drawing room sofa after Christmas dinner, watching as Remus tries to show Ron and Hermione the correct posture for duelling in the middle of the room. Ginny bickers with her mother in one corner and the twins are somewhere in the house, probably causing mischief.
Sirius shrugs and glances at me. "Dunno. He's…better off alone, I reckon," He mutters, and I can hear resentment in his voice.
"Are you not getting along?" I ask hesitantly. Even though Sirius told me that they weren't close during their schoolyears, I thought the situation would change since both of them would be stuck in this house, unable to leave. And now they are even on the same side, fighting against Voldemort. They're brothers, for Merlin's sake! And when Regulus first came into this time, Sirius was ecstatic. I remember them spending at least some time together then, but now it seems that they have strayed. Severely.
Sirius sighs and rubs his neck. "We are. Don't worry about it," He says wearily, and I can see that there's a lot left unsaid.
I give my godfather a long stare, but I'm interrupted by Hermione, who suggests we go through a couple of spells she thinks I could teach the DA after we go back to school.
There is a mix of pride and amusement in Sirius's and Remus's eyes as they watch Ron, Hermione and I practice – without casting – and discuss Hermione's spells, as well as the ones I picked up from the books Sirius and Remus gave me for Christmas.
Grimmauld Place, December 31st 1995
New Year's Eve has never really meant much to me, unlike what comes after. The New Year; the promises, the possibilities. When I was younger, my father used to say it was a time of rebirth and starting fresh. Of course, those tales ended well before we went to school. When Sirius and I became old enough to attend Hogwarts, we became old enough to take care of ourselves. And father became competent in shutting himself off. Mother was…well, she was deluded. But she did what she thought was best for her family. Like I did, for a long time.
I've spent the late evening in the library, flipping through the pages of books, not really reading anything. Truthfully, I haven't been able to focus into anything during the past ten days. Not after sitting with my brother at father's study and witnessing how lonely he actually is. I probably should've had seen it earlier, and perhaps I did. While I have had my project to concentrate on, Sirius has had plenty of time to visit the memories from the years he spent in Azkaban. To think about his losses.
I too have lost many things. My life, for starters. Not that it would have been a great one, had I managed to escape the cave. But I still might have had my parents and my freedom.
As the clock strikes midnight, I toss the book away from my hands with a sigh and stand up. I walk to the windows to see the fireworks lighting up the sky. I feel empty. Irresolute. It's been five months since my arrival and nothing has happened. I've been inside these walls for five fucking months and I've done close to nothing. Sure, I've probably read twice every single book I imagined could help, and there was that one, rather unsuccessful trip to the forest, but other than that…I'm finding myself in a need of something. I just don't know what it is.
The door opens and closes, and I glance towards it. Potter stands there, eyeing me warily.
"What is it?" I ask blankly. I wonder why is he here, in the middle of the night?
He shrugs. "Was on my way upstairs and thought I'd stop by."
I give him a suspicious look. "Why?"
"What's your problem?" Potter asks sharply, approaching me.
For a short moment, I'm surprised by his words. Then I let out a dry laugh. "My problem?"
"Yes." He says with a tight voice. "Why are you suddenly avoiding everyone, and so bitter, so angry?" He asks, a deep frown edged on his face.
"You are still speaking about me, right?" I ask slowly, giving him an incredulous look. Because, hell, he's just described how he usually is.
Potter grits his teeth together. "What is that supposed to mean?" He says hotly and steps closer to me.
I feel a shiver of thrill when I manage to annoy him. His hands are fisted and his eyes are blazing with anger. I give him an impassive shrug. "I guess you have to figure that out."
He scowls at me. "Whatever," he mutters. "Should've guessed you only cared for your own wellbeing. That you'd be exactly like Sirius told me you were…"
I arch a brow at him. "Oh? Do tell?" He is starting to annoy the pants out of me, and I have a fleeting thought that perhaps this was just the thing I needed. A row with someone.
He's standing right in front of me, staring at me with a defiant look in his eyes. "He told me he hated you…because you were soft enough to believe your parents, because you joined to be a Death Eater without hesitation, because you abandoned him for the sake of your parents and their beliefs." He says darkly.
I laugh loudly, disregarding the small pang of hurt his words manage to bring up. What the fuck is he gibbering about? My beliefs? Well…I admit I might've shared the Dark Lord's beliefs on some point, but in the end, I'm rather sure both my brother and I know I had no choice. My parents had no choice. Or, well, there was a choice – to be killed. Running away like my brother did just wasn't an option for the rest of us.
I give him a cold look. "You're naïve. You fail to realise the world isn't black and white." I say plainly, and he frowns at me, evidently processing my words.
He looks contemplative, unsure even. My blood is pounding in my veins and I want to smack at his ignorant face but I clench my jaw and stand still.
"Then why are you avoiding him? You're both stuck in this place. You can't leave." He says finally, with exasperation in his voice.
I scoff at him. "What happens between me and my brother is none of your concern," I say with a chilling look.
"Can't you see that he's suffering? You're the only one he's got, and yet, you don't seem to care enough," He says heatedly, his magic radiating angrily from him.
I know that Potter is right. I have seen how my brother is. Perhaps that's the reason his words sting a bit. "You know what? Fuck off." I say coldly, and I'm about to turn away from him, but he pulls a wand on me. He's got some bloody nerve. Not six months ago was he in a hearing after misusing magic in front of a muggle.
I narrow my eyes at him, and I'm breathing heavily as the tip of his wand presses into my chest. I can feel the power of his magic, waiting to be set free.
"I dare you," I grit out, and he's trembling with anger.
"You'd deserve it," He says harshly. I grab his collar and drag his face closer to mine. I can feel his breath puffing against my face, his hand gripping my wrist.
"Then by all means, do what you intended to do," I say ferociously. I've had enough of his irksome attitude, and it's time to call his bluff.
We glare at each other but then something happens, a stirring of the air. I can't explain it, but I'm certain Potter senses it as well since suddenly, his gaze becomes unfocused, unsure, flickering down.
A mix of annoyance and confusion run through me. It feels like time is going slower, and I'm trying to wrack my brain to figure out why.
After what feels like a long time, I finally come around to my senses, regaining consciousness. Realising how closely we are standing and that he's been staring at my mouth, I hastily push him away. Potter stumbles backwards, his wand clattering to the floor, a look of embarrassment and shock crossing his face.
He quickly snatches his wand from the floor and flees the room without sparing me a glance.
What just happened?
I retreat to my room, and pace across the floor for a long time, trying to wrap my head around on the incident. Why? I ask, but don't receive an answer.
It is two in the morning, but I can't sleep.
I am playing the scene from the library in my head. Over and over again. What the hell even happened? My head spins and an image of him flutters into my mind. An imagination, but still so real-like. Potter, standing in front of me, a tight grip on my wrist, his lips against mine. Shit…I can still feel his warm breath puffing against my face. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! Why the fuck am I thinking about him?
"Fuck!" I growl aloud and shove my hands through my hair, tugging it with frustration.
Eventually I lay down on my bed. I can feel a headache coming, and I press the bridge of my nose with my fingers, trying to make up my mind. Should I confront him? Should I go downstairs in the morning and act like nothing happened?
But nothing happened.
My imagination happened. I try to suppress the images my brain has conjured for my torment. Potter, breathing against my face. His fingers tightening on my wrist. The heat of his magic pressing to my chest from the tip of his wand. His eyes flickering to my lips.
But fuck, I can't make them go away. And to my utter mortification, I realise I'm fucking aroused. How is that even possible? I mean, it's Potter…A fifteen-year-old teenager.
FUCK! This can't even be legal. I don't have a fucking clue…I remember his bewildered expression before he fled the library.
And then I remember another thing. My brother. Sweet fucking Salazar, my brother will kill me if he finds out. No. Scratch that. My brother is going to transform into a dog and eat me alive. The likelihood of that happening helps me to make up my mind and I decide to stay hidden in my room until the very end.