The Days After Sunday

Chapter 3

The Many Near-Deaths of Harry James Potter

"I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then."

-Alice in Wonderland

When Harry awoke the next morning he couldn't breathe.

When he tried to inhale, each gasp only yielded the smallest breath of stale air, not nearly enough for his near bursting chest. It felt as if someone was squeezing his lungs, choking from within. His eyes saw blackness so dark, it was impossible to tell if they were actually open Struggling for air, Harry's mind searched frantically for some reason, and for those first few conscious moments he thought the dementors had found him again.

But was it really? This condition was quite unlike that icy bleakness, the complete loss of hope. There was the same lack of sight, but Harry could feel something blocking his view. He had not been submerged in the darkness of dementors, so unreal that it embraces while it chokes, spread so thickly you seem to become a part of it. This didn't feel the same. Harry's current peril was just too... fluffy.

He began to struggle, freeing his limbs from the clinging sheets. Still breathless and unable to move his head, Harry gathered his last bit of strength to flail about wildly, attempting blind escape. At last, his leg connected with something hard and the darkness fell away.

Gasping, he welcomed the cold rush of air into starved lungs. With chest still heaving, Harry scrambled up expecting to see his attacker. He turned his head back and forth, but the room was surprisingly empty. No one lurking in dark corners or standing braced for a fight. It was unsettling.

Then, glancing down, Harry's gaze fell upon a dazed looking Ron. He sat sprawled on the floor, hands still clutching a blazing orange pillow.

"What's going on?" asked Ron blinkingly.

"You just tried to suffocate me with a pillow!" accused Harry with a combination of outrage, fear, and confusion.

"What? No...I was just having this dream," began Ron vaguely. "There was an elephant, and this huge frilly orange dress with green polka dots, and if I could just get that blasted goblin to stay in my handbag..."

Ron stared lazily off into space trying to remember the perplexing dream. Sadly, Harry interrupted with another panicked accusation.

"You almost killed me!"

Ron's eyes went back to Harry, and after seeing his friend's red face and frenzied expression knew he needed to give some kind of explanation. But being just as perplexed, if not more so, he just began rattling off everything he could remember about waking up.

"I was just having this dream... yeah, when something hit me and I fell on the floor..." Ron's voiced drifted off and his eyes widened as realization dawned. "Actually, maybe I did almost kill you."

~~

It was the morning after Harry's party when Hermione heard a loud thump and then yelling from somewhere upstairs. She would've dismissed it, trying to fall asleep again, but she'd just been having a very strange dream.

Sirius Black stood in Hermione's room at home. This struck her odd, not only because no wizard had ever visited her house, but also because Hermione (unlike every single female, and truthfully some males, in Sirius's year at Hogwarts) had never dreamt about Sirius before. He stood silently, slightly off center from the middle of the room. Every time Hermione tried to speak to him, he would turn sharply away. As a result, she could never look at him straight on, although what she saw of the tall man with dark hair certainly appeared to be Sirius Black. The strangeness of this was closely followed by the presence of a hideous green and orange dress.

These unsettling images left Hermione in an uneasy and investigative mood. So instead of rolling over and burrowing her face in a pillow, she left the room quickly and pattered upstairs. Despite efforts to be quiet, Hermione woke Ginny, who hurried after a few seconds later.

Hermione headed straight for Ron's room where she knew Harry was staying. Without knocking, she pushed open the door to find Ron sprawled on the floor, as if he'd been knocked over, while an obviously annoyed Harry glared.

"What are you two doing? Have you been fighting?" Hermione couldn't keep the worry out of her voice, although the second question was merely a guess.

"No, of course not," said Ron. "Although Harry did hit me."

"Harry!" Hermione said, scandalized.

Before she could start berating him in a most scary and unstoppable manner, Harry abruptly intervened.

"Ron tried to kill me."

"You did what?!"

Hermione and Ginny, who'd only just entered, simultaneously yelled at Ron, who looked quite surprised.

"Well I didn't mean to," he said sullenly.

"How can you not mean to! I mean, what are you talking about?" Hermione asked, very unhappy with the nonsensical situation.

"I was about to tell Harry when you burst into the room."

Ron looked at Hermione reproachfully.

"You're not the only one who's good at figuring things out. You see, after ascertaining Harry's point of view-"

"You mean, about almost being killed?" asked Ginny.

Ron cleared his throat.

"...and recollecting my own thoughts before the incident, I've come to the obvious conclusion. I believe I was..." Ron paused for dramatic effect, "sleepwalking."

"You tried to murder Harry in your sleep?" asked Hermione incredulously.

"Well sort of. See, I don't remember what happened, so that means I was still asleep. Plus, I've been sleepwalking a lot recently."

"At least that's true," interrupted Ginny again. "Last week he wandered into my room at three in the morning asking where Floopy his fuzzy pink bunny pal was, and a couple days ago we found him outside, covered in dew and lying face down in a pile of newly picked begonias."

"Er, "said Ron, going very red. " Yeah well...anyway, when Harry woke up he said someone was suffocating him. So he hit me and I woke up holding the pillow. I think I picked it up in my sleep and thought it was something in my dream. "

"So you almost killed Harry by mistake," said Ginny.

"Basically, yes."

Ginny glared at her brother. "Well, so much for devious plans and Unforgivable Curses, all Voldemort really needs is a pillow!" Ginny raged at Ron her temper mounting. "How could you be so idiotic? What were you thinking?"

"It's not as if I planned it for my own amusement," said Ron wittily.

While Hermione looked from Ron to Harry fretfully, Ginny continued to scream. Although she knew quite well that it was entirely not her brother's fault, Ginny still madly wanted to shout her head off at him. She was furious, without any obvious reason for it and perfectly content with that. Once she got started, stopping was almost impossible. Also, letting out so much rage all at once was just wonderfully de-stressing.

"I'm going to go find Mr. Weasley," said Hermione, cutting into Ginny's outburst.

"You don't have to do that. I'm really just fine," said Harry, not wanting to cause a scene any further or have people worrying over him again. It was still too early in the morning to stomach that again.

"Actually, I think I need to, " said Hermione, glancing apprehensively at Ron. "Isn't it odd that the first time Harry is out of his relatives' house, Ron happens to go on a homicidal sleepwalk? Well, what if... I think we should just consider the possibility that someone may be interfering." Hermione finished her last sentence hurriedly, leaving Ron gaping at her.

Everyone in the room shuffled a few extra inches away from Ron.

"You think he, I mean... someone did something to me?" said Ron with shock. He rested his head in one hand, examining the other suspiciously. Then realizing just where his head was resting, he suddenly bolted up to look at both hands in wide-eyed horror.

"So, I'll just go find him, " said Hermione, skillfully avoiding the question.

"No, I'll go," said Ginny, still glaring at her brother. "You stay here and make sure Ron doesn't do anything else." And with that she stormed out of the room.

A few moments later Ginny returned to the room with her father in tow.

"I explained everything," said Ginny.

"I swear it's not my fault," Ron put in quickly.

"Yes well, isn't that what they're afraid of?" said Harry in a grim tone.

Mr. Weasley walked straight past Ron to look at Harry.

"Are you feeling alright, Harry?"

"What about me?" asked Ron indignantly. "I'm the one who's been possessed by Dark forces!"

"Oh yes of course," said Mr. Weasley, apparently noticing his son for the first time. "As long as Harry's sure he's ok."

With a nod from Harry, Mr. Weasley went over to examine Ron. He held a finger in front of Ron's face, about an inch from the end of his nose. This particular feature had reached amazing lengths over the summer and was now vying for extra appendage status.

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

"One," replied Ron.

"And what's your name?"

"Ron, er, Ron Weasley."

Mr. Weasley took one long look at his son then turned to Hermione.

"Take everyone down to the kitchen, I'll call Kingsley. Oh, and bring the pillow." Then Arthur Weasley rushed out of the room.

With Ginny holding the pillow (she did NOT trust Ron with it any farther than she could throw him) they all clattered down the staircase, Ron in front and Harry following close behind. He had just passed the second landing, when Harry heard a loud noise close behind. Turning his head round quickly, Harry took one last step when the floor gave way beneath him.

~~

When Harry had found no step for his foot, while naively expecting one to be there, he was thrown completely off balance. He would most likely have broken his neck, if he hadn't hit Ron on the way down. So, Harry flew headfirst into Ron, who shrieked, and went tumbling down the stairs with him. His vision was a complete blur, and the world kept going unpleasantly upside down. Trying to stop their descent Harry grabbed about frantically, unable to find a firm grip. They didn't stop until hitting Mrs. Weasley at the foot of the stairs.

Luckily, she managed to remain steady, although this was no help to her emotional state. She went into hysterics over Harry, the poor darling, and wouldn't rest until he'd been comfortably seated with a cup of tea; legs propped up on a newly fluffed pillow.

Ron was ignored.

"Harry, you're sure everything's alright?" asked Mrs. Weasley, hovering over him.

They were all gathered in the Weasley's kitchen, enjoying leftover pieces from the fifth strawberry-flavored layer of Harry's enormous birthday cake. With eleven layers to go, it was an odd but necessary breakfast.

"Yes. Still," sighed Harry. "Please don't worry about it."

"It's a bit my fault too," said Hermione sheepishly. "He probably would've seen it if I hadn't sneezed."

"Still, I'm just so very sorry about that step. I found it like that, just gone, last night! Can you imagine? I should've fixed it at the time; I was just too tired. But that's absolutely NO EXCUSE for going and endangering your life like that."

She would've continued like that for the rest of the morning, if Kingsley Shacklebolt hadn't stepped out of the fireplace at that very moment. A fire had been lit so he could Floo in to thoroughly test Ron for signs of Dark activities

"How are you doing Harry?" he inquired kindly.

"I'm fine, thanks," said Harry, choosing to ignore the minor cuts, scrapes and bruises he'd gotten from falling down the stairs. "So, what are you going to do with Ron?" he asked, attempting to divert attention away from himself.

"Yes, what are you going to do to me?" questioned a slightly nervous Ron.

"Just see if someone manipulated you into attacking Harry. And don't worry, it won't hurt."

Ron sighed with relief.

"At least not for me," Kingsley said and Mr. Weasley chuckled.

He reached into a small bag, then pulled out an instrument with three small spheres at one end. The largest of the three rested securely on the end of a long rod, while the other two revolved slowly around it, seemingly unattached. The orbs vibrated softly, emitting a low humming noise.

"It's a kind of Dark Detector," explained Kingsley, to no one in particular. "You use it to find out if someone is being interfered with by Dark magic."

"Now everyone stand back."

He began to move the instrument around Ron, up his legs and down his arms. The two smaller spheres occasionally changed color, but continued to emit the same low hum while maintaining their speed of revolution. Everyone watched Ron, who seemed horribly embarrassed to have so many people all looking at him at once.

After several minutes Kingsley stepped back saying, "Seems fine to me."

This resulted in a collective sigh of relief from everyone except Hermione who said incredulously, "You mean Ron was right?"

"Yup, looks like Harry's just been having an unlucky morning. Ron was sleepwalking after all."

"Thank goodness," said Mrs. Weasley, "and most importantly, he didn't hurt Harry! We can't thank you enough."

"My pleasure, just try to keep it from happening again."

"I'll be sure to. Oh, and have some cake before you go," said Mrs. Weasley, thrusting a generous piece in front of Kingsley. It was more of a mandate than a suggestion.

~~

Having deduced that Ron was entirely free of Dark magic; Kingsley Shacklebolt left that morning, telling them to report to him if anything else peculiar happened concerning Harry's well-being. This was a parting statement he would live to regret.

With only one day left before term started, Ron and Harry were appropriately making the most of their vacation by doing absolutely nothing. At the moment, this meant methodically going through Harry's many presents. These included, but were not limited to, a month's supply of Skiving Snackboxes and an invisibility sombrero from Fred and George, several books (1001 Blockheaded Beater Jokes by Vladimar Prebble, The Other Side of the Rainbow: Dealing with Pain after an Unfortunate Incident by Bambi Hugsington-Heart from Mrs. Weasley and one particularly repulsive-looking book entitled The Glory of Mullets by Gilgamesh Garrish), and finally, perfect for the person you barely know, sweets. A surprisingly large number of guests had given sweets.

"Do you want a chocolate frog?" offered Harry, through a mouthful of pumpkin pastie.

"Dunno. Maybe I'll try some Ice Mice," replied Ron lazily. He was sifting through the jumble of colorful packages piled high on the kitchen table.

Hermione sat at the table with them, watching silently and shifting her gaze from one to the other as they spoke.

"Here's a whole load of Bertie Bott's," said Harry, picking a weighty bag out of the pile. "I'm going to go through and pick out all the earwax."

"And then let's give them to Malfoy," suggested Ron demonically.

They began picking through the bag, sniffing a suspect bean here and there.

"I can't TAKE it any more!" screamed Hermione, bursting out of her chair and slapping both hands hard on the table. Harry and Ron jumped, spilling several handfuls of jellybeans, as Hermione's chair clattered to the floor.

"You can't take what?" asked Ron, looking very worried.

"I've been trying not to say anything. All yesterday, and I didn't ask, I didn't even mention it!" Hermione spoke very fast, shaking visibly. "You'd think someone, anyone else would bring it up. I mean aren't you even curious? It's as if you didn't care!"

"What are you talking about?" asked Harry, as Ron shot him a look as if to say maybe speaking wasn't the best idea right now.

"OWLs!" Hermione yelled, banging her hands on the table once more.

"Owls?"

"Yes, what-did-you-get-on-your-OWLs?" Once she'd said it, Hermione gave a huge sigh then sunk to the floor dejectedly.

"That's all?" said Ron in relief.

"I passed everything except History of Magic and Divination, " said Harry. "And it looks like I'm taking Potions again next year."

"Well I'm not," said Ron happily. "And at least I passed everything else."

Hermione waited expectantly.

"And how did you do?" asked Ron, not particularly looking forward to the answer.

"Can you believe it? I got an 'Outstanding' in every exam!" said Hermione perking up considerably.

"Well that's a surprise," said Ron dryly.

"Is that all you're going to say?" asked Hermione testily. "You know, it's not as if I didn't work to have those nine OWLs, and I definitely worked harder than you. The least you could do is congratulate me!"

"Congratulations Hermione," said Harry, trying relentlessly not to sound sarcastic. "Have some gum."

"Thank you Harry," said Hermione pointedly, taking the package of Droobles Best Blowing Gum out of Harry's outstretched hand.

"Yeah, congratulations, but you can't chew that gum inside. Mum had a fit when Fred and George brought some Droobles home after their first year. There were blue bubbles drifting around the house for a week."

So the three of them left the kitchen and went out into the Weasley's back garden to blow bubbles.

The moment Harry stepped out into the fresh afternoon air, he began to feel a bit peculiar. This was due mostly to the fact that he thought he heard Beethoven's Piano Concerto Number Five playing faintly somewhere in the yard. This became more disconcerting as the music grew rapidly louder, until Harry looked up and realized it was coming from a huge purple something falling straight out of the sky and swiftly approaching his head.

Harry jumped sideways, and Ron managed to pull Hermione out of the way just in time. Harry was still getting his balance when the purple mass hit the ground with a tremendous CRASH just a few inches away. They all stared at it, stunned.

"Is everything alright?" cried a shrill voice from above.

Harry looked up again, spotting a lavishly dressed witch descending on a broom, voluminous purple robes billowing behind. She landed next to them, then hurriedly dismounted.

"I think we're all ok," said Harry, his voice shaking. He looked back at Ron, who still had one hand firmly gripping Hermione's arm.

"I wasn't talking about you! Just look at my poor piano! That's a customized Walnut Satin Louis XV Grand!"

Obediently, Harry turned to the splintered remains of the customized Walnut Satin Louis XV Grand. Then, before he could blink, the witch said a sharp Reparo and the pieces flew together again, into a whole piano. A split second later, the witch had already mounted her broom. When she shouted a second spell, she and the piano went hurtling into the sky again.

The last words Harry heard from her, as he gazed after the twin purple blobs in the sky, were, "I do hope Geoffrey can repair it."

"Well..." said Hermione, at a complete loss for words.

"Did that actually just happen?" asked Ron, his mouth gaping.

Harry looked into the sky again then back at Ron and Hermione.

"Maybe we should stay inside."

~~

Despite some weak protesting from Harry, Hermione told Mrs. Weasley about the falling piano. She was appropriately mortified, and went to call Kingsley Shacklebolt again.

"Could you describe this woman for me?" he was asking Harry just a little later.

After arriving, Kingsley had examined the entire back yard with his Dark Detector, then scanned Ron, Harry, and Hermione for some hint of Dark magic. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, he proceeded to sit down and question the witnesses.

"She was wearing purple..." Harry answered, trying desperately to remember the split-second image. "Um, she had a piano?"

"Well that's very... helpful. Anything else?"

"Yes," said Hermione, "she had slightly curly strawberry blond hair, several gold bangles on her right wrist, and black rimmed glasses. She was about five feet four inches with lavender eyes, which I think is a fairly distinguishing feature."

"Really? That sounds like Celestina Warbeck!" said Kingsley in surprise.

"How do you remember all that?" said Ron.

"Is she a Death Eater?" asked Harry.

"What? No, not at all, she's actually a fairly famous singer," responded Kingsley, while searching in his pockets for something. He pulled out a newspaper clipping with someone's handwriting sprawling across, and spread it open on the table.

"Is this her?"

"Yes," said Harry, recognizing the witch's picture although she looked decidedly different with a dazzling smile instead of an angry scowl.

"Well, I highly doubt she was trying to hurt you with that piano then."

"What's this writing under the picture?" asked Hermione.

"Oh, um, that's her signature," mumbled Kingsley Shacklebolt. "I... got it for my daughter. She's a huge fan you know."

"Mm, hmm, " said Mrs. Weasley. "And maybe you can take your daughter along for a photo when you question this woman about her horribly reckless behavior!"

"You think we could take a picture together?!" said Kingsley giddily. Then regaining his composure he grunted, "Yes good idea, I'll get right on it," and with that he promptly Disapparated.

~~

That night, Harry gingerly crawled up to the makeshift mattress where he'd attempt to sleep without getting killed. He lifted it up, making sure nothing was hiding underneath, then pounded the top a few times for good measure.

Ron lay snoring softly on the bed above, seemingly untroubled by the leather belts strapping him to the mattress, wrapped around the bedposts, and tied tightly to his wrists and ankles. Mrs. Weasley had insisted on the extra precaution, along with a strong slumber draught to prevent Ron from mistakenly smothering Harry again. She was apparently unawares that these measures were very Sleep Walking Prevention Goes Bondage.

Harry brought his wand to bed just in case. He clutched it in his hand for three nervous hours before falling asleep in a tense ball.

Having three near death experiences in one day is bound to make one a bit paranoid.