Forbidden Lore

Forbidden Lore

Chapter Three

The weeks that followed the night that I broke down and cried in front of the entire common room are a blur of sameness and repetition. The voice I was hearing had me scared and, to make things worse, I had begun having nightmares nightly. So, I performed the menial tasks of a student as though on autopilot. I answered all questions directed towards my well being with a distracted 'I'm fine' or 'I'm all right'. Concerned looks and curious stares followed me everywhere; I couldn't have cared less.

It was the pain that my distance caused my friends that eventually brought me back from wherever it was that I'd been. My return, as I put it, happened rather suddenly, one afternoon in late October, I just walked up to Harry, Ron and Hermione, smiled and asked what they were doing. Ron gaped at me in shock, Harry shook his head in puzzlement and Hermione threw her arms around my neck. I disentangled myself from Hermione's hug and waited expectantly for their answer. After a few seconds of stunned silence, they all began talking at once.

"You're talking!"

 "What happened?"

 "Is everything okay now?"

I smiled, "I'm fine, really, I just had to work some things out, you know, figure out what's going on in my head. Sorry, I saw how worried you guys were; I didn't mean to scare you or anything," I said meekly.

"Well, did you figure everything out?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, yes," I said simply, I did in fact figure it out.

"And?"

My smile widened, "I'm completely out of my mind."

"And you're happy about this?" Ron asked.

"Yes," I said approvingly, nodding at them.

They stared at me, skeptical. I suddenly had a mad desire to laugh, a feeling I wasn't accustomed to. They didn't get it, deciding that I was crazy was all right because then I didn't have to worry about this voice I was hearing. After all, figments of one's imagination couldn't hurt anyone. So, I was pleased to say that I was insane.

Of course, I knew in my heart of hearts that I was quite sane and that the voice was real. Telling others and myself that I was crazy was simply a way of dealing with the reality of the situation. I never said that I handled my problems correctly; but give me some credit; I did handle them.

"Maybe you should go and see Madam Pomfrey," Harry suggested, "you're unwell."

"No, I'm fine, I'm great, I feel like I could do back flips!" I said, and then I began laughing madly.

My friends looked at me like I was about to run at them and attack. I stilled my maniacal laughter and shook my head in an amused way.

"Don't worry, you'll understand it all in time. It took me three weeks to understand it myself, and it's my mind."

"Well, if you're sure," Harry said hesitantly.

"I'm quite sure. Listen to me; don't worry about it, everything's all right. I'm good, you're good, so we're all good!"

They still looked uncertain; my flippant new attitude wasn't exactly dispelling their worries. Besides the fact that I was telling them that I was completely mad, that's not the most reassuring thing to hear from a friend. I definitely had a problem, my friends were worried, I was scared and it was becoming exceedingly difficult to keep up this cheerful front. In reality, I wasn't at all cheerful, in fact, I felt like crying from frustration, and that was something I was not about to go into exile for another three weeks for.

I hadn't been idle during my weeks of listlessness; I'd been trying, rather desperately, to figure out what was going on. But, seeing as how my distance caused my friends such pain, I'd plastered a smile on my face and gone to talk to them, the laughter had been a side effect of not enough sleep and more then enough worry, and, already, the smile was painful, painful enough that my friend's could sense the unease in my character. Something, that no one had ever been able to accomplish before, well, to tell the truth, I never had any friends as close as them before.

Lost in these thoughts, the smile faded and was replaced by worry and fatigue of endless days of thoughts of hopelessness.. God, I thought desperately, I need to rest, let me rest. No more voices, please, no more dreams.

"You're not okay," Hermione said firmly, her gaze searing right down to my very heart of hearts, "You look exhausted and worried, please go see Madam Pomfrey. For us if not for you."

I felt defeated and I tried to plaster my smile back on, but it failed, "All right, I'll go. Could...could you come with me?" I hated those words, the weakness in them, I'd always been strong, always, and I despised weakness.

Hermione smiled in a reassuring way, "Of course, what are friends for?"

She grabbed my elbow and dragged me off down the hall in the direction of the hospital wing. Harry and Ron ran to catch up. I shook my head in a bemused fashion and allowed Hermione to take control of the situation. I'd been trying to do just that for weeks and it wasn't exactly working, I've never been very level headed, contrary to popular belief. In fact, I was always rather impulsive and not the greatest at problem solving. It was probably my biggest flaw, impulsiveness is good in moderation, but I'd turned it into a fine science.

When Madam Pomfrey saw me she shook her head and said, "Tsk, tsk, when was the last time you slept? You look exhausted." She looked at me severely and then looked away and bustled across the room.

I shrugged, "I haven't slept properly in a couple of weeks. I'd like to get at least one night of uninterrupted rest. Could you possibly give me a dreamless sleep potion?"

"I think so. But first, why aren't you sleeping well?" She called from the other side of the room.

I hesitated, she'd think me mad if I told her about the voice, but I didn't really have a choice anymore, I had to tell someone.

"Well," she demanded, "out with it!"

"I've been hearing a voice, not the kind of voice mentally ill people hear, I think, it's a soft voice, a whispery voice and it's not even talking to me," I said stuttering slightly and looking down at my hands.

"How many times have you heard it?"

"I don't know, quite a few, it sounds as though I'm hearing someone talk to himself and it has absolutely nothing to do with me, I don't even know what it's talking about!" My voice rose steadily as I said that and I had to stop before it became a wail, the fear and fatigue was definitely getting to me.

"I think that that is something you should take up with Professor Dumbledore, not me, you could really be hearing something. Is there anything else?"

"Yes, I've been having dreams, nightmares, really. They come every time I close my eyes. That's why I'm not sleeping, the dreams come, they're horrible, just horrible, I don't think I can take it much longer," I said, practically screaming.

"Hmm, I see, well, I think that I can give you a dreamless sleep potion tonight and we'll deal with the rest of it tomorrow. How does that sound?" She said quickly, bustling over to where I was and patted me gently on the arm.

"Fine, Madam Pomfrey, just fine. Oh, and thank you, for not telling me that I've completely lost it, that is, I might say it myself, but I'm glad to know that not everyone necessarily agrees with me."

She smiled kindly, "It's all part of the job, dear, I can't tell a student they're crazy on evidence as flimsy as that."

I returned the smile, albeit weakly. I really wanted to go to bed and sleep dreamlessly for the next week. As long as the nightmares didn't come I'd be able to rest, truly rest, no worries, no fears, no dreams. At that moment, sleep was all my heart desired.

Madam Pomfrey appeared to understand my unspoken desire to the fullest extent, for she handed me some hospital pajamas, led me to a curtained off bed and told me to undress and lie down. I complied without so much as a single objection. I would have done just about anything right then if only I could sleep dreamlessly for hours afterwards.

When I had put on the pajamas and crawled into the bed, Madam Pomfrey gave me a goblet of a steaming potion.

"Drink this," she ordered, "All of it. You'll get a good night's rest and we'll discuss these dreams and voices in the morning."

"It's four o'clock in the afternoon." I said, "It's not even dark yet."

"Be that as it may, you need to sleep, right now."

I took the potion and drained about half of it in one gulp, I drank a bit more before the room blurred and I had to set the goblet down. Within thirty seconds, I'd fallen into the deep sleep of the fatigued.

Hours later, I slid into a lighter state of unconsciousness, my body began to slowly awaken and I began to dream.

The dream started innocently enough, hardly frightening enough to be called a nightmare. I was in a dark room, there was a window to my right, but somehow I knew that it was locked with a spell that I didn't know. The air was still and heavy with heat, the silence was deafening. I had a strange sense of foreboding and was terribly frightened.

Then, the world exploded into utter chaos. The stones of the room I was in crumbled as I was thrown to the floor, the locked window shattered, spraying me with shards of thick glass. Instinctively, I covered my face when the glass flew and my bare arms were cut by the pieces. A thin, wicked piece of glass sliced into my uncovered forehead before falling to the floor at my feet. Then, it all stopped as quickly as it had begun.

I took my battered arms away from my face and looked at the ruins of the stone castle, there wasn't one wall left undamaged. The silence was broken only by the moan of the searing wind. Oddly enough, I felt no remorse, no worry, and no fear. Instead there was only cold triumph and I, the only living thing in that barren landscape, began to laugh.

At the conclusion of the dream, I came to full consciousness with a startled gasp, only to find myself staring into the face of Albus Dumbledore. I then realized that I had tears on my face and felt as though I'd been running and found myself gasping for air, something I couldn't remember doing throughout the startling events of the dream.

Dumbledore smiled serenely, "Ah, Raven, you're awake. Were you having a nightmare?"

"How do you know about my dreams?" I asked sharply, only to realize how obvious the answer was a moment later. I cringed inwardly at that show of stupidity but my outward expression didn't change.

"Madam Pomfrey told me last night." His smile didn't falter.

"I see, yes, it was. What time is it? Sir." I added at the last minute.

"It is seven o'clock in the morning, you'd still be asleep if you'd have finished the potion yesterday. Now, I wish you would tell me about your dreams."

I sighed bitterly, "They're hell, Professor," I said bluntly, not caring if I was reprimanded for it. Under pressure, I lost all respect for authority and became almost foolishly bold. It was one of my poorer traits.

He just nodded, overlooking my less than pleasant language. I knew that he wanted me to continue. After sitting up, I proceeded to do so.

"They're different each night, never twice the same. Sometimes I see things, flashing images of things that were, things that are, and things that are yet to be." I didn't know what I was talking about, but I kept going, now that I'd started, stopping was unthinkable. "Other times, I live events, like in normal dreams, but my dreams are horrible, people die and things get destroyed. They're dreams of war, I think, of a war that hasn't started yet, but one that will someday soon. And, sometimes, just sometimes, I have dreams that are feeling and emotion, no coherent thoughts and no visions, just raw emotion. Those are the worst, those are the ones that terrify me and cause me to wake up sobbing in the dark! And, and..."

"You're rambling, my dear," Dumbledore said gently, cutting me off mid-sentence.

"'To think before you speak is criticism's motto, to speak before you think creation's.'" I whispered, more to myself then to the man sitting beside me.

"Pardon me?"

"Nothing, just a quote I heard somewhere, it applies to the situation, I think."

"Hmm, is there anything else you'd like to tell me?"

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I hesitated and then slowly continued, "I've been hearing a voice, it's soft and whispery and says things like: 'my prize, I must claim what is mine. Soon all will know'. I don't really understand what it's talking about, but it's not talking to me. Am I insane?"

"No, I don't think so, I think you are hearing a real voice. Why you are hearing it and where it is coming from, I do not know. Is there anything else to the dreams?"

"I think, and you may laugh for all I care, I think that the dreams are visions, real visions. I think that I may be prescient and I'm seeing things."

"The future?"

"The now! The future and the past, all at once, all the same."

"I see, perhaps this is so, I would not be surprised."

"Why?" I asked suspiciously, narrowing my eyes slightly. I hated it when other people knew more about me than I did.

"Because you would not be the first. We get the occasional student with true prescience here. There is a chance that you are one of them. So, do you have any other things you want to tell me about?"

"Would you quit asking me that, damn it!" I snapped without thinking, I didn't apologize, though; I rarely apologized for the things I said, even if they were uncalled for. Carpe diem was my philosophy and, to me, that meant not wasting my time regretting the stupid things I said and did sometimes.

The headmaster truly looked taken aback, I felt a distant sense of triumph at managing to shake the ridiculously serene expression from his face. Few people managed that, or so I'd been told. But, within the amount of time it took to blink, the tranquil smile was back. I hissed faintly in annoyance, how anyone could look that damned cheerful all the time was beyond my comprehension. I still refused to apologize.

"All right, Raven, if you don't want to confide in me that's fine, we will have to find you someone to confide in, though."

"Excuse me?" I didn't think I'd heard him correctly, "Find me someone to confide in? Don't I get a say in this?" The anger started boiling up, and the sarcasm dripped from my voice so thickly I thought the Headmaster must be able to see it dripping off the words.

"Raven, I'm sorry, but you don't. You're not in the habit of trusting people with anything, much less with your problems, but you need someone. I'm worried about you and Madam Pomfrey agrees with me, I will find someone suitable for you to open your heart to."

Dumbledore left then and I flopped back down with a miserable groan. I don't need someone to 'open my heart to'. I thought indignantly, I'm fine. God, what did an old man know? I am fine.

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I wasn't fine, actually, in fact, I had never been further from it in my life, but I was afraid to admit that to anyone. And I really didn't want to admit that someone else knew more about what was good for me better than I did. So, I denied that I needed the help, although no one was around to hear it, and I dreaded the day Dumbledore would send me off to talk to some touchy feely sap that would try to get me to laugh and be a happy idiot.

Let's just say that I was in for a bit of a surprise on that front.

* * *

I was allowed to remain in the hospital wing for the rest of the day, on the condition that I rest. Around five, Madam Pomfrey brought me some dinner on a tray and asked casually if I was feeling better after my chat with Professor Dumbledore. I glared at her and told her, rather sarcastically, that all my worries had been put to rest. She carefully ignored the sarcasm. I was beginning to wish that the sorting hat had put me in Slytherin where people wouldn't simply look the other way when I was mocking and disagreeable. Needless to say, I was in a foul mood that evening.

While I finished my dinner, Professor Dumbledore came in, followed closely by Professor Snape. I did a double take; it was really and truly Snape. The reason why Snape was visiting me, was a mystery, but one that would soon be solved.

"Well, Raven, I've found someone for you to confide your thoughts and feelings in," Dumbledore said seriously.

I looked at the man blankly for a moment, then, "I'm supposed to 'open my heart', as you so charmingly put it, to Professor Snape?"

"Yes, I think that you could get along quite well with him, better then with any other teacher, in fact. Though you don't realize it yet, you two are really quite alike."

"Mmmm, perhaps." I said noncommittally. I really wasn't pleased by the turn of events, but I'd have rather died painfully than admit that.

"Well then, I'll leave you two alone for a bit and you can get to know one another better. I'll be back in about an hour."

Snape and I glared after Dumbledore with equal displeasure. I sighed and lay back down, covering my face with the blankets. I was hoping halfheartedly that if I ignored him long enough, Snape would leave me alone, I did not have any desire to confide my secrets in anyone, much less Severus Snape.

"I understand your unhappiness," Snape said softly his voice sounding different from the voice I heard in class almost daily, "I know how difficult it is to disclose your secrets to anyone because someone else ordered it. But, should you ever desire to speak to someone, I am available and would never tell anyone else your secrets. Anything you choose to say to me will be kept completely confidential."

"What about Dumbledore," I responded, my voice slightly muffled by the blankets on my head, "He'll want to know everything I say, will you tell him?"

"No, I said 'completely confidential', that means that I would tell no one. Your secrets will die with me. Why did you ask," He added, a little fire of interest sparking.

"Because I don't think Dumbledore trusts me all that much, oh, I know what your thinking, 'she's throwing herself a pity party' but I'm not. The headmaster doesn't really trust me, that's really why he wants you to talk to me, he wants to make sure that I'm not dangerous." I pulled the bedclothes away and watched him for a reaction.

"Are you?" I could have sworn I saw a flicker of a smile on his lips as he said that.

"I never hurt anyone unless I mean to. And, sometimes I do mean to, I'm not really a very nice person, when it comes down to it. And that Gryffindor self-sacrificing thing is crap; I tend to put my own life first, thank you very much. But, dangerous, I don't think so."

He did smile then, "I'm surprised you're not a Slytherin, with that attitude you'd make a good one."

"Um, thanks, I guess." I smiled back.

I don't know how, but I knew when we shared that smile that we really were more alike than I'd thought. Somehow, that was the beginning of a new friendship, to this day, I don't really know how or why.