The Serpent's Thirst

The Serpent's Thirst

Chapter 9

The Very Dursley News.

Warm, Harry sat in his plush armchair, reading Quidditch Through The Ages, while Ron was content beating Hermione at wizard chess. The fire flicked merrily in the grate; a gracious glow radiating in the room. Epona hummed to herself as she cleaned the living area with a flooper-feather duster, the multicoloured feathers making Lilac and her parents Persia and Crookshanks deeply interested in attacking it. Father and daughter feline, moved their heads in unison, while Epona wiped away dust from the windowsill.

Windows everywhere were completely frosted, except for the rude writings made by Fred and George. The weather outside was as dull as ever. The blizzard which started on Christmas morning had not ended and had continued on for four days. Luckily the fire was water proof and cold resistant, because batches of snow kept falling down the chimney when the wind blew particularly strong. Harry thought if the weather didn't brighten up they might be trapped inside for the entire holidays.

Other than the bluster of wind and the snow pounding on the window, the clinking of breaking chessmen and the fire's crackling flames, the house seemed very quiet. Remus and Sirius were in the basement of the house attending a meeting of the Order of the Phoenix with everyone else. Percy had gone back to his own home. Ginny was taking a nap and Fred and George were trying to tame the bathroom - or maybe trying to get kicked out again. Harry couldn't tell with those two.

"Yes ... I've won yet again." Ron grinned, gloating at Hermione who rolled her eyes back sighing, like it all didn't really matter. "Want a game of Exploding Snap?" he suggested.

"Nah. I - am - so bored! I think I might read Hogwarts: A History again," Hermione huffed, turning round, placing her hands near the fire to defrost them.

Hermione blinked suddenly, realising that she had not seen her parents nearly all morning. "Where are my parents? They wouldn't be with the Order, would they? They can't, what can they do?"

Harry closed his book and stretched out his tired arms and legs. "They could be playing chess?" he said with a smile.

Hermione bit her lip and stood up, walking out of the room to look for them. Harry took in several deep breaths, getting quite bored himself as he gazed at the cards Ron was trying to stack.

Hermione trotted back ten minutes later, eating a sandwich, her busy hair bouncing with each step she took. "Well, that was certainly unexpected. I found my parents in the kitchen, but they weren't playing chess, Harry ... but kissing. Dad says it's just something in the air."

"Eh ... of course, Magic," Ron chuckled, "Say, did you catch any of the Order along the way?"

"Nope. But I think it's serious. They've all been in there for over three hours." Hermione bit her lip harder, flicking her worried eyes on Harry.

Harry blinked. "Maybe they're still trying to find that Wizard, Voldemort was torturing," he guessed. He had told them about the vision in his dream, however Harry never told Hermione about the part where they put the little girl in the cupboard under the stairs. Every time he remembered that, it sent chills up his spine. He ran his fingers through his hair, raising his fringe as he went, revealing his scar; exposing it to the cold of the room. Pain seared a moment later and he squinted, instinctively putting his hand on his forehead to soothe the pain.

"Should I call someone?" Ron spoke. "Are you having a vision or something?"

"Nothing of the sort, just the usual pain. He's probably mad. I can't tell anymore," Harry replied. He didn't feel confident enough to let down his guard and wonder what Voldemort was feeling. The moment he would, he knew Voldemort might try and find out what was in Harry's mind. He rested his head back, closing his eyes for a moment so he could relax.

They all heard a door open and shut gently and people whispering to each other as they passed the hallway.

The howling wind seemed to had calmed down slightly. Harry noticed he could now see the hazy tree tops swaying violently in the foreground. Their shapes blurred by the snow, but he could still make them out from his seat.

"I hope it dies down soon. I'm getting a bit sick of staying in doors all this time," Ron said as he carefully piled a card on top of another, his fingers slightly trembling with concentration.

BANG!

Harry jolted, Lilac and her parents screeched and ran off in a flurry, leaving Hermione to waft away the smoke which had billowed from the exploding cards.

Mad eye Moody popped into the living room minutes later, his electric blue eye swivelling all over the room in case there was a hidden danger. Harry was about to say hello when he spotted a strange woman walking in after him, rocking a blanketed bundle -- a baby, Harry realised - Sirius, Professor Dumbledore, Remus and Mrs. Weasley following her footsteps.

"Er," Ron started to say, looking on, while Mrs. Weasley led the frightened woman to a seat.

"This is Niamh O'Connor and her baby Brian," Professor Dumbledore replied, placing a gentle hand on the woman's shoulder. She looked up and smiled benignly, her eyes a dark shade of red and extremely puffy from crying. "This is Ms. Hermione Granger, Molly's youngest son Ron, and Harry Potter," Dumbledore gestured towards them.

The woman stared at Harry without blinking, her eyes glassy; however he could tell she was thinking hard. She was not looking at his scar, like most people normally did when they meet him.

"Nice to meet you all," Mrs. O'Connor said and she cried yet again, holding a wet tissue to her nose while she held the baby in her other hand.

Remus stepped forth and picked the baby up to free the crying mother. Molly sat with her, holding her as she let out her emotions, rubbing her back. "I'm s-sorry. I re - really am. I don't know why I'm so emotional. Declan wou- would've wanted me to be strong."

"Declan?" Hermione asked softly, deeply interested in this woman's history.

"Her husband was kidnapped by Voldemort," Dumbledore went on. Harry felt a hot sickening wave break in his stomach. Ron and Hermione stared at him a little timidly. This was the man's wife. The man he had heard refusing to answer to Voldemort's questions about the secret, whatever it was.

"Mrs. O'Connor will be staying here for while, until we find her husband," Dumbledore concluded.

***

Finally the storm died down that afternoon.

Harry opened the front door and whisked Hermione out into the open winter wonderland. He needed to get out of their. The spirit of Christmas and the new year had been sucked out when he found out about the O'connors'. At least he knew now that the Order were doing something to find him.

The scenery outside was covered in white, bland: deserted and gloomy, yet there was a certain romantic touch in the atmosphere around them, making them forget about everything other than their loving embrace. And their laughter surely brightened the dejected land up a lot.

Footprints littered the snow heavily, leaving deep holes in fresh snow as they trotted along the supposed path which was now hidden. Harry glimpsed at the picket fence, which was half buried in snow. He stepped over it easily, helping Hermione, when her cloak snagged one of the pickets.

"So where are we going?" Hermione asked, cheeks and nose a rosy red with cold. Mist rose from her mouth in like a delicate sheet as she smiled, holding hands with Harry.

"I have no idea! I haven't explored this place yet. I just thought you'd like to tag along in case we get lost. Best chance of survival is to share body warmth," Harry grinned.

"Ha, ha!" Hermione's sarcasm resounded in the white landscape. Their feet sometimes getting stuck in the snow as they walked behind a layer of trees, into the woodland. The hems of their cloaks became soaked and heavier to drag.

Harry looked up, seeing that the trees were blocking the blinding white light, shadowing them in darkness and he could hear Hermione's teeth chattering while she cuddled in closer to his body.

Hermione sniffled, wondering what they should do, when she spotted a string of hovering lamps. She pointed it out to Harry. Curiosity naturally struck them both, and they followed the lamps. Harry sure there wasn't any danger from these. After all, they were on his property. Ahead, two rows of lighted lamps hovered a metre apart. They seemed to lead them toward something. The way they were positioned, it looked like the lamps were a path themselves. Harry tightened his grip on Hermione's hand and they walked along, wondering what there was at the end of it.

"I feel like I'm going to find a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow or something." Hermione giggled. A couple of snowflakes decorated her hair as Harry's eyes trailed on her cheerful face.

The lamps continued winding and zig-zagging around trees. It grew a little more darker as the trees' canopies thickened. But there was nothing eerie or scary about the woodlands. In fact it was quite the contrary to the forbidden forest, Harry thought. It was more happier and mystical.

At last the lamps began to widen to form a circle, they had reached the end of the journey. "Oh wow!" Hermione gasped, staring at what laid before her.

The lamps had circled a small little hideaway, which teemed with life. At the very back of the little enclosure was a small cliff face. It would have otherwise been very dark if it weren't for the glow of the fire from the lamps. Beneath it, where a multitude of boulders and soft earth lay, was a magical array of lush green plants and flowers in bloom. Hermione was excited when she saw these, because she knew them from her Herbology book; quickly naming them from the top of her head: "Look there's a bunch of Tarantella spindles, oh and some blossoming luminous floragions -- And Harry -- my favourites, blue ladies, with red speckles ... or they are so rare and potent. They are class B tradeable goods according to the Ministry."

Harry snorted. "I could see Fred and George wanting to experiment with these for their pranks," he said, knowing that the blue ladies; a deep dazzling blue flower which resembled a very curvy hourglass, was used for love potions and could be highly deadly.

The ground was filled with long green grass. A soft breeze coming from nowhere made the grass look smooth and almost shimmery, like flowing satin. Birds sang around them, and a few colourful butterflies fluttered about over them. Fairies whizzed past as they walked around, and a young unicorn trotted past, happily eating some grass. And Harry spotted Buckbeak stretching his wings.

Hermione couldn't speak, but she had the biggest smile of awe on her face that Harry didn't need to know what she was thinking. "This is really cool," Harry said. Hermione nodded, outstretching her hands to lightly touch the young unicorn, while Harry patted Buckbeak who grovelled the ground for worms.

Small trees with twisted trunks created a sort of roof over a rough wooden bench carved out of a dead tree trunk. It sat on the mossy mushroom ground near the cliff-face. Harry walked up to it, once the unicorn had gone away. He looked around and noticed that no snow had penetrated this little part of the woodlands, which amazed them both.

"Does Sirius know about this place?" Harry said out loud as he sat down on the bench. Hermione shrugged and smelt a bright pink flower, which turned white ever third second. "It's just great. Too bad Ron wanted to sleep."

"Well, I'm actually glad he didn't come. That means more time with you," Hermione emphasised, taking a seat by his side. She placed her arms around Harry and he snuggled his face on upon her shoulder, smiling, because he just couldn't help it.

He brushed his fingers on her cheek, turning her face a little so they could meet eye to eye. "Let's just shut up and enjoy the moment," he cooed, his green eyes blending well with the scenery.

Hermione nodded as Harry's lips parted ever so slightly, drifting silently toward her own. Her excited breath quivered a bit, knowing that the moment she would've felt him, they'd be in heaven. She closed her eyes, knowing that this time, there would be no interruptions.

And then when moment came; she had to go further, just a little more - she needed more of Harry. Their kiss deepened, Hermione let go gently and raised her head, exposing her neck to his loving kisses.

Harry kissed her in tiny strides, going lower with each soft movement. Hermione welcomed it, as she pulled away his hair from his forehead, her hands travelling down the back of his own neck, exploring his body. Her fingers wanted to feel more, to have something to live for.

Harry's hands trembling, unclasped her cloak, as Hermione's cold hands somehow travelled within his own clothes and rested on his bare upper chest, kissing him again.

"Going a little far aren't we?" Hermione giggled with bright eyes, smooching his chin and going higher so she could suck those luscious lips of his.

He smiled before Hermione kissed him again ... "It's too cold to do anything else. Besides, I don't think we are ready."

"I know ... but you're too good to let go." Hermione struggled to remove her hands from his warm body. Releasing the bond she had with him.

"Is there anything you don't know?" Harry said, pushing up his glasses, which had fogged up a little.

"There's plenty I don't know. After all, I'm not Vedas the Salmon of Wisdom," she giggled.

Harry took the opportunity to feel her skin once more. and nipped her ear passionately.

***

It was quite dark by the time Harry placed his house key into the lock. Hermione stood at his side, with her arms wrapped around his shoulders - and they were surprised when the voice of the Hanging Purple Ruby (which now hung on the front door handle) rang in their ears.

"MASTER ... AN UGLY, FAT HAG AND HER SHORT SCAR-HEADED COMPANION ARE AT THE DOOR!"

Harry gawked at Hermione who had one eyebrow raised. Harry didn't know if he should be offended or to laugh at the insults.

He opened the door, making it swing wide open, and saw Sirius walking up the hallway stopping in front of them. He pinched his chin at the sight of the small purple doll on the knob and then focused on Harry and Hermione.

"You know ... if it wasn't for the short scar-head comment, I would've thought Umbridge was paying us a little visit."

Hermione rolled her eyes, and entered, pulling Harry along with her and into the kitchen where Ron sat yawning, waiting for Epona and his mum to make dinner. "Where have you two been?" he said.

"Oh, we went for a walk. Found a nice little place in the woods," Hermione babbled on, taking off her cloak.

Remus looked up from reading a Muggle Newspaper: because it was always useful in knowing the current events in their world which could link to Voldemort. "Ahhh, it's a nice little spot isn't it? I found it a couple of months ago, while I was exploring it. I thought the lamps would reveal it better," Remus explained pulling his eyes back down on the articles.

Harry thought Remus looked very pale and there was a haunted look about him. They knew that the full moon cycle was approaching and that soon he'd transform into a werewolf. Sirius had added a secure room in the basement for Remus to stay in.

Harry and Hermione smiled. Ron bowed his head, clearly not interested in what they did. If he knew, he may feel or say things he wished he didn't. It was best to keep quiet. Harry and Hermione thought so, as well.

"Dinner is served ... Master Lupin, must you read at the table?" The house elf squeaked, holding a bubbling pot of stew in her hands. Mrs. Weasley muttered under her breath, helping Ginny place the utensils on the table. Mr. and Mrs. Granger sat down, next to her daughter.

Mrs. O'Connor, however, was fast asleep. Mrs Weasley told the children she would personally flay them alive if they made any sound to wake the woman and her baby up.

"Oh sorry, Epona," Remus apologised, standing up with the intention to place the paper on the counter-top, but continued standing with the pages covering his face. He breathed in sharply and he slowly put down the paper, still reading something.

"Harry."

"Yeah," Harry looked up, sitting down next to a gloomy-looking Ron.

"Did you know that your Aunt Petunia was pregnant by any chance over last summer?" Remus asked calmly, his voice without expression. Sirius was shocked and Mrs. Weasley stopped in her tracks.

"Er ... no ... why?" Harry replied very slowly, knowing that he was about to hear something he didn't want to hear.

"Well." Remus perused the little column of the Babies Born section, which was above the obituaries. "It says here: Petunia and Vernon Dursley are proud to announce the arrival of Florence into the world. A healthy nine pound baby girl."

Sirius dropped his fork and knife he was holding. "WHAT?" he yelled. "THOSE people ... another child. Harry?"

Mrs. Weasley's chest puffed up in anger. Arthur patting her hand in fear of an outburst. Jack and Helen narrowed their eyes, knowing very well about the Dursleys, and their attitude toward their nephew, after confronting them over the summer, and having a little chat about their neglect and abuse of Harry.

Harry stared at each of the startled faces. "I didn't know! She didn't show, if that's what you're asking. Not one bit!" He shook his head, nonplussed at the information. "What's it to us now? We've got nothing to do with them anymore ... why drag it even further?" Harry asked. "As I remember correctly, I was the only one they hated. They're capable of loving - maybe a bit to much when it comes to their own child." Harry stopped, sighing deeply, feeling a bit empty somehow.

Aunt Petunia never told him. His uncle and cousin could've known in the early months, and left him in the dark. A new cousin, Harry thouHght gloomily. She'll never know he even existed. And if she ever does, they'll teach her to hate him.

***

That night, Harry placed his pillow over his head when Ron started snoring. He couldn't sleep, still thinking about his new born cousin growing up in that household. Harry envisioned Florence being as fat and spoiled as Dudley. The thought stayed with him until he had fallen asleep.

Harry walked in a lit house, looking at his outstretched palm. Upon it lay his mother's pendant. He smiled, pushing his bespectacled back up his nose. He noticed his glasses were sello-taped, and he was wearing daggy tattered clothes, which had once belonged to Dudley.

Harry looked up, thoroughly confused at this point. The house he was in was the Dursleys' and he was no longer a teenager, but seven years old. The last place he wanted to dream about and remember.

A door slammed on the second floor and Harry gazed up, staggering back against the wall, when he saw his Uncle Vernon rushing down the stairs, looking very purple and blotched, like something had made him deeply mad.

Harry had a bad feeling about this, as the man's piggy eyes caught sight of him. Vernon's mouth was thin, and white with strain. He marched up to Harry and roughly pulled his head back, making Harry grimace with pain.

"Please, Uncle Vernon ..." Harry pleaded as his seven year old self. The pendent in his hand fell to the ground, which had been an extra addition to his memory he was dreaming about.

"DON'T YOU SPEAK TO ME, BOY!" he yelled. Spittle hitting Harry's face. "How many times, must we tell you not to ask questions about your parents under my roof?"

"I- I just wanted to ask Aunt-"

"You know very well they died in a car crash," Vernon hissed, shaking him violently, making his glasses slip down his nose. "Nothing more!"

"Uncle Vernon -I- I just wanted to know --" Harry tried to say in a small voice.

"-NO MORE QUESTIONS!"

"-What that green light I saw was -" Harry continued, defying his uncle's words. He remembered the scene clearly now, he couldn't believe he was saying the exact same words in his dream.

"THAT'S IT!" his uncle proclaimed.

Harry knew what would come. His uncle hastily pushed him forward, with a tight hold on a bundle of his raven hair, halting in front of the cupboard under the stairs, where the beefy man single-handedly fumbled at opening it. When it sprung open, he threw Harry in, making him hit the wall with a giant thud. Then slammed the door shut and locked it, blocking all the light! Harry turned around in the dark hearing the Spiders scattering.

"You're staying in there for a week!"

And with pounding footsteps, Uncle Vernon charged up the stairs again where Aunt Petunia was in bed with the flu. Harry remembered that he had asked her about a green light in a dream he had the night before, when he brought in her breakfast. She told him to leave and she later explained to Vernon what happened.

Harry recollected that he cried in the small dark cupboard. He wasn't bothered opening the old light that swung. He just wanted to know what the green light was? He wasn't asking anything too hard, was he?

Well, Harry understood years later, what the green light was, and his guardians probably had no idea what it was or that it was magic. They probably thought he was a bit insane.

Harry switched on the light as if he were reliving the memory for real, and to his astonishment, as he wiped his remaining tears on his sad clothes, saw that on the end of his cot, peering up at him with large, vivid green eyes, red hair and a cheeky little smile was

that toddler.

Harry couldn't speak, his memory turning into his pure imagination or was it? "Who are you?" he blurted out. And lucidly he instantly realised--

Harry woke up in a sweat, gasping, his fingers clutching a handful of bed sheets. Ron stirred, sitting upright on his bed about to get out of it.

"Harry, are you all right? You were talking in your sleep, mate."

Harry placed his hands over his eyes, shaking his head. "No ... oh no! She can't be, she can't be!"

"Who?" Ron was puzzled. "Harry, you kept saying Uncle Vernon."

Harry shook his head again, his hair moving about. "Florence -- she's- I think she has magic in her blood."

Ron eyes grew wide. "Er, are you sure? Because that would mean that their own child-- not you -- their child--" Ron blinked. "This is not good! Maybe it was just a dream."

Harry rubbed his eyes, very frustrated. " I DON'T KNOW ANYMORE!" he shouted. "... Am I dreaming or is it some bloody prophetic thing? WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME?!"

Harry threw his pillow across his room. Voldemort kidnapping people, strange dreams, visions ... and now this worry. Was it real or not? Was he even sure that this baby he was dreaming about was his cousin? Whatever it was, Harry officially hated sleep.