Harry Potter and the Burden of Becoming

Harry Potter and the Burden of Becoming

Chapter 12 - A Scar Too Deep

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Buckbeak seemed to smile at Harry as he entered to spend yet another evening with the Hippogriff. The day had been cloudy and offered one of summer's first respites from the heat. Harry bowed low and when the creature returned the gesture he patted it on the neck and fed it a rabbit. Harry sat down on the floor of straw finding it difficult to think about anything other than Gabriella. For two weeks the Hogwarts students had remained in the house. Hermione tried to analyze Harry's powers, but unable to try some of her ideas until they returned to Hogwarts, they soon dropped the subject completely. Harry kept quiet about Tonks' hint that he might be a Metamorphmagus. In fact, he kept quiet about a lot of things. He couldn't bring himself to talk about Gabriella in front of Hermione, and he was never alone with Ron long enough to tell him. Harry had decided they would release Buckbeak when they all left for school. He would be setting free yet another reminder of Sirius, and he found himself spending much of his days alone with the creature listening to the Walkman Tonks gave him.

He had sent no more letters to Gabriella. There had been several attempted starts and stutters, but he always found he had nothing to say. His letters became lists of twenty questions asking about Duncan, Emma, or the other things that were going on in town. If he hadn't been such an idiot, her hands could be around his waist right now. He was imagining the two of them on his motorcycle riding down a country road, but then his mind flashed to the accident, which had now so often played like the film of Sirius' death. He could see them in slow motion flying through the air, the policeman, Gabriella lifeless on the ground. A stabbing sensation shot down his right forearm.

He'd left the bandages on because his arm still ached and because of his last memory of what it looked like--ground hamburger meat. It had started to smell a bit and he imagined it would be terribly scarred. Of course they'd probably be able to heal that, or maybe had already. Still he was strongly apprehensive, even when Mrs. Weasley suggested he take it off at breakfast earlier that morning. Buckbeak walked to the far corner of the room when Harry decided to take a peek.

He started at the bicep and began to unravel the bandages. The first layer revealed a second thinner wrapping around his forearm. The foul smell grew strong, but his upper arm seemed unscathed. Slowly, he began to remove the bandage around his forearm. All looked well until he noticed a small bit of scarring on the soft fleshy inside of his forearm. "To be expected," he thought. He unwrapped another turn. The scar appeared to be a shape. "What?" he whispered. Another turn of the cloth, and there was no mistaking an odd looking lightning bolt and the tail end of a serpent. He froze as adrenaline began to pump through his veins. "How?" His heart raced. "No!" he whispered again. His mind was flashing to the marks of the Death Eaters. "It can't be." His breathing quickened. Finally, in a sudden flurry, he unwrapped the cloth completely and held his forearm tight with his other hand and examined it closely.

Thinly etched on the soft skin, as if carved with a knife, were the winding coils of a snake. The tip of its tail began where two small lightning bolts crossed, then wound up to form the handle of a sword. Below the hilt, the coils flared out to make the guard and then wrapped more tightly, straightening, until halfway down his forearm the flat blade erupted from the snake's mouth poised ready to strike. The blade extended to a sharp point just above Harry's wrist. It looked to Harry like a Basilisk spitting the Sword of Griffindor. It wasn't the Dark Mark of Voldemort, but what was it?

He was frightened, but the pace of his heart began to slow. At first he was hesitant, but then slowly the fingers of his left hand traced the edges of the scar. It didn't hurt, but it was real; it was his skin. Had they done something to him at the hospital? Was this some kind of trick? And if it wasn't, what then? Most wizards would probably take it as the Dark Mark, nobody would think there was a difference, or perhaps they'd think he did it on purpose, just trying to get attention.

There was a knock on the door. Ron poked his head in. "Hey, mate., mind if I..."

"Uh, no," Harry said panicking, "Buckbeak, he's... he's really in a state tonight." Buckbeak continued to stare placidly at the wall munching on a rabbit bone.

"Seems okay to me," Ron said and started to enter.

"No! Really, I uh, I..."

"You took the bandages off! Did it heal okay?" Ron continued to press toward Harry who was now looking for an escape that wasn't there. Harry put his arm behind his back.

"It's not too good Ron," he said. "I think I'll need to put the bandages back on again. You really don't want to see." The ploy failed and only made Ron more curious.

"Let's give it a look then." Harry closed his eyes and screwed up his face. If he was going to tell anybody, he could tell Ron, right?

"Swear to me you won't scream and run out the door?"

"Just let me see the thing!" Slowly, without looking, Harry brought his forearm around revealing the fleshy underside to his friend.

"Oh no!" Ron screamed. "It's horrible... just horrible!" He held his hands to his face his eyes wide, and then he started to laugh and shoved Harry on the shoulder. "You're so full of every-flavor beans. Come on, mum's got dinner ready and we have guests! Ginny's back with Mad-Eye." Ron started out the door.

Harry was lost. He watched Ron leave, and then looked back down to his arm. The scar was gone. His arm was perfectly smooth as if nothing had ever happened. He was dumbfounded, where did it go? He picked the bandages up off the floor and put them in the dustbin. On his way down to dinner he stopped at his room and put on a long-sleeved shirt. If it was going to pop out again, he didn't want anyone noticing.

When he walked into the kitchen, everyone had already started to eat. A place had been set next to Mad-Eye who had yelled out "Hello Harry!" just before he opened the door. As he entered the kitchen, Mrs. Weasley started for him.

"Ron says the bandages are off. Let's have a look!" He'd had his hand on his forearm the whole time, and hadn't felt the scar rising on the skin. Quickly he pulled back the sleeve, showed her the back of his arm and elbow, and pulled the shirtsleeve down. "How does it feel?" she asked.

"Just fine," he lied, hiding the fact that it still ached. "Everything looks wonderful!" He took his seat at the table.

"Hi Ginny!" said Harry with a smile.

"Hi Harry! How was your..."

"What's that on your ear, Potter?" Mad-Eye asked, not turning his head from his plate; although Harry knew that his magical eye was probably turned right at him.

"An earring," he answered.

"Yeah? Where'd you get it? Not off some stranger, I hope. It might be charmed! Hasn't anyone checked?"

"Uh, it's fine, really."

"Molly! You let the boy come here with that in his ear. I hope you tested it to make sure it wasn't hexed!"

"I'm sure it's fine," she spoke up in Harry's defense. "Still, if he wants, we can have Remus take a quick look when he gets back." Harry, his mouth full, nodded his head and that seemed to satisfy Mad-Eye. Ginny passed him the milk.

"How was your summer, Harry?" she asked. "I heard you had an accident."

"I dropped Sirius' motorcycle, and hit the curb. I was just going too fast." Ginny gave a small gasp.

"He was almost taken is what happened," Mad-Eye interjected. The whole table turned to Mad-Eye. Harry had deliberately been vague about the accident and the news was a surprise.

"Now Mad-Eye," Mrs. Weasley spoke out, "we don't know that Harry was almost taken."

"Don't we Molly? A police officer was on the scene of the supposed accident. He had a fourth-degree stunning spell slammed straight into his chest. If they hadn't gotten there the moment it happened he would have died, and Harry would have been next!" Hearing Mad-Eye's words everyone gasped.

"Harry!" Hermione sputtered. "You didn't say anything about being stunned!"

"I wasn't stunned. I-I left before it all happened. There were people coming out of their houses, and I just... I left." His shoulders slumped. Hearing the words from his own mouth churned his stomach; suddenly he wasn't hungry anymore. Mad-Eye gave a small grunt, but nothing more. Harry, pushing the beans around on his plate, felt a dozen eyes staring at him. Ginny tried to break the tension.

"Well, I like your hair and your earring Harry. It grew pretty fast in just a couple months." Harry simply nodded.

"Thanks," he said. Then Harry tried to change the subject. "How was Dean?" he asked, and a broad smile broke out on Ginny's face; it was just the right thing to ask.

"He was perfect. His family was so sweet and kind."

"Yes," said Mrs. Weasley with a bright smile, "the Thomas' have always been the very best of people."

"What did you do?" Harry asked.

"Uh, Harry," Ron interrupted, "can I talk with you for a second."

"Harry is talking to me now, Ron," Ginny snapped. "You can wait."

"Well, I don't need to hear more about Dean Thomas this, and Dean Thomas that, do I?" he yelled, and he stood from the table and left the kitchen in a huff. Harry was confused. Hermione sighed.

"Let me go talk to him," she said and left to bring him back.

"Good riddance," Ginny continued, clearly agitated. "He's been nothing but a royal pain-in-the-neck since I told him about Dean on the train. You'd think I'd stolen the boy away from him, honestly!" She took a spoonful from her plate. "Anyway, we had a wonderful time. Spent most of the week up on the North Coast. The humpbacks are migrating. They were spectacular! One whale flew straight out of the water," her hand shot up in the air, "turned on its side and CRASH! What a huge wave!"

"Humpbacks?" Harry asked, one eyebrow raised. "How was the weather?"

"Wonderful really, not nearly as hot as down here, but you could still wear a T-shirt. Dean bought me this." Around her neck was a gold necklace from which hung a bluestone whale charm. Harry could see that her eyes were twinkling just thinking of Dean. He was truly happy for her.

"That's fantastic. I always knew Dean had good taste," he said with a grin and Ginny blushed.

"Well, Miss Weasley," Mad-Eye said with a growl, "you'd better have that little token checked as well, before you wake-up in the middle of the night with it choking you to death." At that both Harry and Ginny had to laugh.

"And what about your summer, Harry?" Ginny asked. "Were the Dursleys awful again?"

"No, not too bad." His mind wandered. "Uh, look I better go check on Ron. We can talk more later, okay?"

"Sure," she said. "Maybe tomorrow at Diagon Alley?" she asked and Harry nodded.

He stood up from the table, thanked Mrs. Weasley for dinner and excused himself. Outside the kitchen door, the entranceway was empty. He started toward the study, but the thought of seeing the Black family tapestry on the wall turned him to his own bedroom. Perhaps he'd try a letter again tonight. The stairway was now unadorned with the heads of house-elves; a simple shimmering blue covered the walls. When he arrived at his room, he heard arguing further up the stairs; it had to be Ron and Hermione. He took a few steps upward. He could make out Hermione's words first.

"Well, if he didn't have a pretty clear idea at the hospital, he's dead sure now."

"I didn't think..."

"No, you didn't think! You never think. We agreed we wouldn't tell him, right?"

"Well, that was before." Ron was trying to find his voice in the argument.

"Before what?" she snapped.

"They tried to kill him, Hermione! Didn't you hear Mad-Eye? Harry didn't tell us that, did he? Why not, do you suppose? He's hiding something, too." Suddenly Ron's voice softened. It was almost tender. "Hermione, I've never kept a secret from him, not like this. I can feel the tension in the air whenever we're together. He has to know."

"You know what it'll do to him? Oh Ron, we can't," she pleaded. "We were off battling for the Order and Harry was left out of it for his own safety. Leave it alone."

"I don't know," he whispered.

"Harry has to be on top of his game this year. He can't be distracted. We're talking about his life, Ron. Leave it alone." There was a long silent pause.

"Okay," he said with a sigh, "for now."

"It's the right thing Ron, really." They started toward the stairs and Harry quickly stepped down and into his room leaving the door ajar. Hermione was first in with Ron close behind.

"Hey, mate," Ron said. "Diagon Alley tomorrow, eh?" Harry shrugged his shoulders. Sitting in his chair, he feigned reading the Daily Prophet. "I wish I'd done as well in my O.W.L.S. as you two," said Ron forlornly. "I guess this makes the first time that..."

"Yep," Harry interrupted not looking up from the paper. "The first time we're not in the same classes."

"Well," said Hermione, "that's not completely true. We'll all have Defense Against the Dark Arts, won't we? And then there's Charms too." She seemed to be making Ron feel worse. Ron had not done well. He was not admitted into McGonagall's N.E.W.T., nor Snape's -- Transfiguration and Potions. The tension Ron had spoken of began to fill the air. Harry continued to read the same page of the paper. Finally, after a silent five minutes, Ron spoke.

"I think I'll go to bed. See you in the morning." He was clearly down, but Harry was in no mood to pick him up. Ron had folded under Hermione's thumb.

"Yes, I'm rather tired too," Harry said pointedly at her. She opened her mouth to say something, but simply stood up as well.

"Goodnight, Harry," she said. "Should I shut the door?"

"Yes," he said, "I think you're smashing at it." Her eyebrows furled, but rather than fight back she closed the door behind her. He was alone. But then, when wasn't he alone? "You've been alone since you walked in the door," he thought. He pulled the sleeve up on his right arm. He could see nothing. Had he imagined it? His fingers stroked his forearm. He grabbed parchment and quill and began to write.

Gabriella, my love.

I miss you. I miss the twinkle in your eyes. I miss the small dimple in your cheek when you smile. Your letters mean all the world to me. I will continue to write, I swear.

Could you ask your mum a question for me? I saw a drawing of a snake coiled around a sword with the blade springing from its mouth. Its tail ended in the crossing of two lightning bolts. Does that mean anything? Just thought it looked interesting is all.

Tomorrow I'm off to buy books for school. Such a simple thing, really. And yet, I hate the thought. It takes me one step further from you and one step closer to the end. I wish I could see the future and tell you all will be okay. I guess we'll both know soon enough.

I love you,

Harry

It was all he could do to not throw the entire note in the dustbin. Instead, he gave it to Hedwig and sent her flying. He turned to see his reflection in the mirror. He stared, trying to assess the person standing before him. "Who are you, Harry Potter?" he whispered. Again he rubbed his right forearm, but nothing was there. "Was it a dream?" he thought. He took his clothes off and climbed into bed. Outside his door he heard Mrs. Weasley and Ginny ascending the stairs. Ginny was still going on about Dean. Harry smiled; at least someone was happy in the house tonight. He took a deep breath and cleared his mind. Soon, he was asleep.

The next morning was warm, but Harry slipped on an oversized long-sleeved shirt anyway. He was still unconvinced that the mark had disappeared forever. The breakfast conversation was quiet and Mr. Weasley was quickly off to the Ministry. Harry noticed that the lines in his face had returned. After they ate, Mrs. Weasley gathered the four Hogwarts students to travel to Diagon Alley by floo powder. Mad-Eye would be tagging along today. Harry knew he was there for extra protection. "Potter duty," said Harry sighing to himself. Was he to be watched for the rest of his life? "Well that might not be too long, eh?" he thought dully. Thankfully Lupin, who had returned during the night, would stay behind. He was still sleeping when they left.

When they arrived, they found Diagon Alley a mass of students.

"Dean said he might be here today," Ginny said brightly scanning the crowd.

"Nobody wanders off today," Mad-Eye lectured the group. "You stay within sight of me or Molly, is that clear?" All nodded.

"First stop is Floursih and Blotts," Mrs. Weasley said brightly. Hermione surveyed Harry for the slightest moment.

"Yes," she said, "there are a few things I need to find out."

It took only a few minutes for Ron and Harry to gather their books. Ginny was off with her mother and Hermione had disappeared behind the stacks, Mad-Eye keeping his magical eye fixed in her direction.

"Mister Moody," Harry called, "can Ron and I sit out in front? It's getting awfully hot in here." The perspiration was beading on his brow,

"All right," he said. "These women will have us here all day. Don't move more than ten feet from the door, agreed?"

"Agreed!" Ron said, glad to be free if for only a moment.

The two sat at the curb just outside the door. Quite a few students came up and said hello. Many, to Harry's surprise, were greeting Ron first. His brilliant play in last year's Quidditch victory had made him quite a celebrity; even Padma Patil stopped to speak with Ron, after only giving Harry a polite, "Hi, Harry." He watched the passersby as Ron and Padma chatted. He was looking behind Ron, when something caught his eye. The T-shirt Ron was wearing had pulled up his back revealing a deep red scar that traveled from below his waistline and disappeared up into the shirt as it curved around Ron's side.

When Padma walked away, Harry had to ask, "What's that on your back?" Ron quickly pulled down his shirt.

"Nothing," he said nervously.

"Ron, don't give me that. What is it?" Ron was silent. Then Harry remembered. "I thought they'd healed; I thought you were okay?" His voice was anxious. It was Harry's fault Ron had been hurt in the first place.

"It's nothing, mate, really." But his voice was too nonchalant to be convincing.

Harry looked him in the eyes, and then said, "Not this too, Ron." The redhead quickly looked at his shoes, then out into the street.

"Well," he said slowly, "Madame Pomfrey did all she could. There were just some marks that ran too deep, that's all."

"There's more than one? Let me see." Harry reached to look at Ron's back.

"No!" Ron stopped him. Harry sat back on the curb glancing at Ron's back and then back to his face. "I haven't told anybody, Harry. Not Mum, not Hermione..." He looked at the sky. One lone cloud sat motionless against a bright blue background. "I mean, they can see the scars on the outside, but I haven't told them... the healers... they... they couldn't get it all."

"What do you mean? The scars? They couldn't get the scars?" The pitch in Harry's voice was raised.

Ron looked at Harry and held his arm. His eyes were fixed and his jaw set. "Swear, Harry... swear you won't speak of this to anybody." For a moment he saw the same eyes Ron's mother had shown in St. Mungo's.

"You know I won't," he said.

"The brain at the Ministry didn't just wrap itself around me," he said slowly. "It grew into me."

"What!" Harry cried out. "How? Where?"

"Shhh," Ron hissed. He pulled back his collar revealing the nape of his neck. A deep red scar curled and plunged toward Ron's spine. "They tried to take it all out, but it had wrapped around my spine and... and into my own brain." Harry was stunned; his face turned white. How could he have let this happen?

"But, but you're okay, right?" he stammered. "I mean, it doesn't... it hasn't done anything to you, has it?"

"Before I left Hogwarts, I asked Madame Pomfrey not to say anything to my parents. She agreed as long as I let her check in on me over the summer. That's why she came for a visit last week."

"And?"

"And as far as she knows, nothing's changed. In fact the marks are going down, so she figures I'm healing myself... 'Rejecting the foreign invasion,' she said." He looked down at his shoes again.

"But you lied to her, didn't you?" Harry asked quietly. Ron nodded. "What's happening, Ron?"

"Voices," he whispered. "When it had me, I thought... I thought I was going to die. I don't know how to explain this... it was like drowning... drowning in thought. I had lost myself in a sea of voices. Other minds all fighting with each other for control. When I woke up at Hogwarts, they had disappeared. I thought they were gone forever, but..."

"But what?" Harry prodded.

"They're coming back. Usually, when it's crowded, I hear them; and, if I try to concentrate..." He glanced over across the street. Andrew Kirke was there looking at a parchment in his hands. "He's going to yell for his father," Ron whispered. A moment passed, then another. Harry was starting to think Ron was pulling his leg when Andrew's face suddenly became vexed.

"Dad!" he yelled down the street. A dark haired man in brown robes came trotting up to his side. "I can't get this all myself! You said you were going to give me a hand." Moments later the son and his father walked into a shop at the corner. Harry sat in shock.

"You can read minds?" he asked. "Legilimens?"

"I don't want to, Harry. I can't stop it. I'm afraid if it gets to be too much, like it was in the ministry..." Ron shuddered and gasped for air.

"Then tell someone," Harry urged. "Tell Madame Pomfrey."

"She'll tell my folks, and then... well, you said it Harry, I'll become some kind of experiment or something." He shook his head. "No, it's not that bad. If it gets worse, I'll let someone know." Harry looked at him doubtfully. "I swear Harry, I'll tell." Ron suddenly closed his eyes. "Oh, no. He's here." Immediately he got to his feet and Harry followed. The same instant a familiar drawl hit their ears.

"Well, if it isn't Potter and Weasels holding hands again." Draco Malfoy had just come around the corner dressed in leather pants and a sweatshirt. It was too hot to be wearing long-sleeves, Harry thought touching his arm. Malfoy was thinner than Harry expected; his blonde hair without a wisp out of place. As usual, he was flanked by Goyle, but Crabbe was absent.

"Hello, Draco," Harry spat. "Where's your boyfriend Crabbe? Gone to visit his dad at Azkaban? Or, maybe yours?" Malfoy's face suddenly contorted.

Malfoy reached for his wand; Harry was an instant faster. Suddenly a searing pain ran down Harry's shoulder. He grabbed his forearm, facing Malfoy but wincing.

"Harry!" a gruff voice boomed. "Put it down! You too, Malfoy." Draco hesitated at Moody's command. "I hear you make a great ferret," Mad-Eye said holding his wand straight at the blonde's head. Reluctantly, Draco slipped his wand back up his sleeve.

"It's only a matter of time, Potter," he snapped. "They'll be free, you'll see. And you'll pay! I swear you'll all pay." He turned and stomped away, Goyle following his footsteps.

"Come on boys," Moody called, "back inside. Let's find the girls and be on our way." Ron and Harry followed Moody back into the bookstore. The door shut behind them ringing a small bell. Harry began to rub his arm.

"What is it Harry?" Ron asked.

"My arm," Harry replied, "it still burns a little." He sat in a chair as Ron watched. Carefully he slid his thumb under the cuff of his shirt. He felt the tip of the sword running to his wrist--the mark had returned. His face became panicked.

"Come on, Harry," Ron pressed, "what is it?" Harry sat silent. It was his turn to stare at his shoes.

Suddenly his mind was asking him to speak, to tell Ron, what was going on. A vision of the police officer stepping out of his car flashed in front of his eyes. Then a voice in Harry's mind called back, "No!" The film turned off and another began to play... he was surrounded, captured, choking... In the bookstore, there was a commotion and the film stopped abruptly. Harry looked up to see Ron tripping backwards over a stack of books on the floor as if someone, or something, had just pushed him.