Echo in My Mind

Chapter 14: Memories

"Memories haunt us

In our dreams,

And in our waking hours.

But memories can be used

When words can no longer be formed

To tell the story of our lives-"

Anonymous

~*~

"Legilimens," Snape whispered softly.

Harry tensed visibly as the spell hit him. His mind was being torn apart, but with a gentler force than normal. Snape was searching for specific memories and Harry and had been incredibly reluctant to do this. The last thing he had wanted to do was relive the events that plagued him every night.

Snape stopped at the memory of the attack on the Ministry Gala. It had taken place three days ago. In that time, the Ministry had declared Amelia Bones the new Minister and there had been a memorial ceremony for Fudge. Many articles had been written about the attack and the current upheaval in the Ministry as people were being moved around from department to department.

Voldemort laughed at the destruction his Death Eaters had caused. People were screaming and everything was in chaos. He loved it.

He came across Percy Weasley, scurrying like a rat from the room. A weak Shield Charm was all that was protecting him. Oh, how Voldemort had longed to kill a Weasley. Ginny or Ron would have been preferred, but it was a Weasley all the same.

"Avada Kedavra!" he yelled.

The green light shot with a deadly aim at Percy, who had no time to react. The jet hit him. He fell with a look of horror on his face. Voldemort laughed, loud and cruel.

Avery came striding up to him quickly. "My Lord," he bowed. "We are holding the Minister for you."

Voldemort's thin lips curled into a feral grin. He'd waited a long time for the chance to kill the Minister and now was his time to shine.

"Take me to him, Avery."

"Yes, my Lord."

The Dark Lord laughed triumphantly as he came to stand in front of the trembling Minister of Magic. Fudge looked up with a terror in his eyes. His struggling increased against the Death Eaters holding him.

"Crucio," Voldemort spoke.

Fudge was dropped to the ground as he began to scream in agony...

A sharp crack and an intense throb jolted Harry back to his senses. He was lying on the floor of Snape's room, a harsh laugh spewing from his lips. He gasped quietly, quelling the laughter, and looked up at his Professor. Snape stared at him in shock.

"Potter, what foolish game are you playing?"

Harry gazed at the man. "What?"

"You were mocking the Dark Lord you insolent brat! Laughing as if to mimic him!"

Harry tore his eyes away. "It happens all the time. Whenever I get a flash of what he's doing I act as he does. It's not a form of mocking, sir."

Snape looked displeased. "You broke free of your bindings."

Harry looked up, startled. The chair he had been sitting in had not fallen to the floor with him. The rope bindings for his wrists and ankles lay burnt on the ground. Harry gulped.

"Did I set fire to them, sir?"

"Yes, you did, Potter. Can't you control your magic?" the Potions Master sneered.

Harry looked down, suddenly feeling a horribly strong urge to cry. He bit his lip, wondering where this was coming from.

"Let's just try it again," he said, pushing himself up.

Snape barely allowed Harry to sit before sneering and saying the spell. He was much rougher this time, and Harry felt as if hooks were clawing his mind apart.

Cornelius was screaming and writhing. His shrieks for help were lost amidst the confusion of the room around them. This was going even better than Voldemort had expected.

"The whip," he commanded.

Avery handed it to him, bowing as he stepped back. Voldemort ended the Cruciatus and waited until he heard Fudge's soft sigh of relief before cracking the whip down, hard. A hiss of pain met his ears.

"Rid him of his clothes," he ordered.

His Death Eaters set to work, and in just over a minute the Minister was laying naked before his feet.

"It's time to have some fun," he muttered, cracking the whip.

By the time he was done, there was not a part of the Minister's skin that was untouched. Ugly red and purple welts crisscrossed his body. Suddenly there was a shout. Aurors were pouring into the room.

"I'm sorry, dear Cornelius. I'd love to stay and watch your miserable death but I'm afraid I must go," Voldemort cackled. "AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Voldemort Apparated away with Cornelius Fudge lying dead on the floor.

Harry felt Snape's presence ease from his mind. He opened his eyes to find that he was once again on the floor. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, then rolled over and gagged. This attracted Snape's attention.

"I'll need to go over this again. For now, Potter, get out of my sight."

Harry scrambled up gratefully, stumbling towards the door. He felt extremely lightheaded and shook his head, as if trying to shake off the feeling. Snape didn't notice a thing.

Harry slumped down onto the couch after he entered the common room. He buried his face in a pillow, stretching is body out, one leg hanging uselessly off the side of the cushion. He felt as if he should have gone down to dinner, but the smell of food wafting from the Great Hall as he had passed had only increased his feeling of sickness.

"Hello, love," Ginny said quietly in his ear.

Harry raised his head groggily, caught off guard by the fact he had fallen asleep without realizing it. He saw Ginny, groaned, and let his head fall back onto the pillow.

"Hi, Gin," he mumbled.

Ginny knelt next to him. "Did everything go all right with Snape? You don't look very well."

"It was fine," he said offhandedly.

"Harry, look at me."

Harry barely managed to turn towards her.

"Are you sure nothing's wrong?"

He let out a soft groan. "Fine," he murmured sleepily.

Ginny sighed and stood up. She grabbed a blanket off a nearby couch and draped it over Harry's already sleeping form. She knew he was far from fine, but there were some things he just kept to himself. All she could do was care for him as best she could.

Harry woke up some time later and guessed it was around nine, judging by the number of people left in the common room. He sat up, feeling refreshed and more awake than he had all day. Turning his head, he found Ginny sitting with Ron and Hermione at a nearby table, books scattered on any empty space around them. He stood from the couch, making his way over to them.

"Harry!" Ginny said, sensing his presence first. "I thought you'd be sleeping all night." She stood up. "Come, sit."

Harry smiled at her and sat. She slid onto his lap, and he wrapped his arms around her, resting his head on her shoulder.

"How are you holding up?" he questioned.

"I'm getting better," she whispered.

Ginny opened her eyes as she heard the portrait hole close. She had waited up for Harry after he had left for a surprise call to Dumbledore's office earlier in the evening. When he stepped into the light from the fire she saw the distraught expression written across his face.

"Harry, what's wrong? What happened?" she asked, standing.

She became worried when Harry wouldn't look up. She tilted his chin up and he continued to refuse to meet her eyes. He seemed almost unwilling to tell her what had happened.

"There was an attack on the Ministry Gala," he said slowly.

Ginny nodded, knowing there was more.

"I... Voldemort killed..." his voice broke off at that point and he took a minute to regain his composure. "I'm so sorry, Gin. Percy... Percy was killed at the Ministry."

Ginny fell back onto the couch. The color had drained out of her face and she wrapped her heavy red blanket tighter around her shoulders. She buried her head in the arm of the couch and began to sob loudly.

As they both remembered that night Ginny wound Harry's arms tighter around her stomach. She shifted and turned to meet Harry's eyes. Harry looked away. He felt as if he could never face the rest of the Weasleys again. Inadvertently, he felt he'd caused this entire mess. It was his fault that Voldemort was still alive. If he could just kill that bastard...

"Harry? Come back to me, love."

Harry's eyes refocused and slowly, reluctantly, he turned his head back to her. She stared at him for a few moments, as he gazed at her.

"I think you should take the night off from studying," Hermione interrupted suddenly.

Harry and Ginny's eyes swept to her in one quick motion, and Ron gaped.

"I think we should all take the night off," she continued, shutting her book with a final click.

Ron spluttered for words and Ginny poked her friend lightly, as if making sure this was still Hermione Granger, the notorious bookworm.

"I think that's a good idea," Harry said, his eyes now locked with Hermione's. "In fact, I think that's a very good idea."

"Thank you, Harry. Ginny, a word?"

Ginny shrugged and stood, following Hermione into a corner. Ron looked confused and Harry raised his eyebrow. They sat in silence for a minute.

"Chess?"

"Yeah," Harry said, giving Ron a true smile that he hadn't seen in months.

Harry and Ron played four chess games before Harry surrendered. He'd lost every game. However, it was one of the best nights he had in a long time. He and Ron had joked, getting into a light argument over Quidditch, and overall Harry felt he hadn't laughed that much in months. Occasional giggles had come from Ginny and Hermione's direction but the boys mostly ignored them. Finally, Harry felt like a normal teenager again.

~*~

The morning of Percy's funeral dawned, a cool mist settling over the grounds, and gray clouds in the sky. Fitting, Harry thought dully as he sat on his bed, reaching up a hand to zip up Ginny's black top. He still could not face the Weasleys, and was not attending the funeral. Ron was adjusting his tie; Hermione would be meeting him downstairs.

Even though there were many odds between the Weasley family and Percy, they had all, though admittedly some a little grudgingly, agreed to attend the funeral. Family was family, after all. No matter how much Ginny had pleaded, she hadn't been able to convince Harry to come. She had noted that her mum wanted Harry there, and that he was family too, but Harry couldn't bring himself to do it. He counted it as a miracle that he was able to squash his guilt around Ron and Ginny, and that they didn't hate him.

Harry let his hand fall from Ginny's back. He sighed and lay back on the covers, not wanting to face the day. Ginny leaned over him and kissed him softly. He kept his eyes closed as she pulled away.

"Are you sure you won't come?" she asked one last time.

"I'm sorry."

Ginny bowed her head. "I know you are. Come on, Ron, let's go."

"Send my regards," Harry said suddenly. "I really am sorry, I just...."

Ginny smoothed his hair back and his eyes opened. "Stop apologizing, we understand."

Harry made a small noise of understanding in the back of his throat before closing his eyes and rolling away. He didn't care that he should be doing something, eating breakfast, studying, flying, training, anything. All he wanted to do was sleep and not have to deal with anything.

He heard the door click shut and slipped under his covers. Thankfully, a dreamless sleep awaited him.

Ginny and Ron met Hermione in the common room. Though Hermione understood Harry's reasons for not attending the funeral, she still looked up the boys' dormitory stairs with disdain. She was still at odds with Harry and it often put a damper on her mood. Ginny looked ready to cry, having left her main support upstairs in the form of her boyfriend. Hermione stayed back as Ron hugged his younger sister close. It was not her place to comfort Ginny.

After a few moments of silence the trio left the dorm room and proceeded to Dumbledore's office, where they would take a Portkey to the site of the funeral. The entire trip to the graveyard was solemn and silent. No one dared make a sound. Hermione wrapped her cloak tighter around her as they walked down the stone path to the gathering of Weasleys. It was a cold, miserable day, reflecting the mood of the family.

Mrs. Weasley was sobbing into Mr. Weasley's shoulder. Bill and Charlie stood to one side, staring straight ahead soundlessly. Fred and George sat a few seats over from their parents, hands clasped in their laps, oddly silent. Hermione saw Ginny press herself further into Ron's side, tears running freely down her cheeks. Though Ginny had never been fairly close to Percy she still felt horrible about his death, and was devastated that a family member had died. Hermione had spent a few nights trying to calm the redhead as she'd cried herself to sleep. Ginny wouldn't go to Harry with this, though he'd tried to help, but he had distanced himself from everyone after the attack to the point where he was nearly avoiding them, and couldn't be counted on to be there when needed. Ron had closed up completely, choosing to bottle up his grief after a first explosion, being strong for his sister and his mum.

Hermione had been unable to sleep, too caught up in her thoughts to feel tired. She slipped out of bed, going towards the loo. She heard an anguished sob echo up the girls' staircase as she exited the room. Wondering what anyone was doing up at the time, she headed down to the common room. The scene before her was not what she had expected. Ginny lay, sobbing on the couch, Harry desperately trying to calm her down as Ron stood, shaking, and ashen white. Harry's head whipped back and forth between Ron and Ginny, a horrible look of sadness and fear spreading across his face.

"I'm so sorry, Ron. I didn't - I - I had no clue..."

As Hermione listened to Harry's desperate tone she heard his voice crack, and caught a look at his face, seeing tears in his eyes.

"You should have known. You can see into his head, can't you?!" Ron exclaimed, his voice rising uncontrollably.

Harry's hands dropped uselessly from Ginny's body. "I didn't see this one coming, Ron. If I had I would have tried to stop it."

"YOU LET MY BROTHER DIE, POTTER!" he yelled, pushing Harry back.

Harry collapsed on the floor, muttering a series of apologies, trying to sedate Ron and calm him. Hermione gasped, she couldn't help it. Thoughts began to race around her head; which brother, where, when, and how. She couldn't begin to imagine the devastation they were going through.

Hermione nearly cried out from the doorway as she watched Ron raise his foot and kick Harry hard in the stomach. Harry let out a gasp of pain, doubled over, and then lay unmoving. Ginny's head raised slightly and Hermione saw a flash of her bloodshot eyes.

"Ron, please," Ginny choked. "It wasn't Harry's fault. There's no sense in hurting him. Do you want to lose him too?"

Hearing his sister's plea, Ron seemed to calm down. He offered a hand to Harry, who looked up at him, almost terrified like a small child having been struck by his father. Ron gave Harry a look that Hermione didn't catch. Everything seemed to be settled as Ron lifted Harry up and the black-haired boy laid a hand on his shoulder. Hermione stepped out of the shadows.

"Ron..."

Ron looked up from his sister and locked eyes with his girlfriend. A look passed over Harry's eyes as he saw Hermione, and gave his friend a small knock in the shoulder towards her. Ron walked slowly, with very little stability, and collapsed in her arms, breaking down completely.

Yes, Hermione remembered that horrible night. Ginny wouldn't leave Harry's side at all, refusing to be separated from him. Ron had left large stains on her clothes from his tears, but Hermione hadn't cared. Ron had needed a shoulder to cry on, and she'd given it to him.

She took her seat as the funeral began, rubbing Ron's hand gently in support.

~*~

Harry's world swam into focus slowly, and he sat up, his right hand shaking uncontrollably. Nathalie stood above him, watching him with a concerned face. She extended a hand to him, but Harry found he was shaking too hard to grasp it. He had really overdone it this time.

Harry had attempted the Impedo Glacialis spell on Nathalie during their duel. However, he had used thought magic to do it because in their current duels, only thought magic was allowed, in an attempt to hone Harry's skills. Or he had attempted to use thought magic. He had put far too much power into the spell, causing his magic to fire up, and he lost control. A huge wall of magic had erupted from him, effectively blinding him for a few moments, and causing him to lose his strength.

Nathalie knelt next to him. "Harry, are you all right?"

Harry found he couldn't move his lips to form the words he wanted to. Instead, he just shook his head no. Nathalie reached a cool hand up to his forehead, and pulled it back quickly.

"You're burning up, Harry. I think we should call it quits for this afternoon. Do you want me to walk you to Madam Pomfrey?"

Harry shook his head again and Nathalie tsked. "Stupide," she muttered quietly in French.

They sat silently on the floor for a few minutes. Harry's shaking had gone down somewhat, but his forehead continued to burn. Nathalie conjured a washcloth, dousing it with cold water, and pressed it to his head. Harry sighed and shivered.

Eventually Harry struggled to his feet. Nathalie stood with him to support him back to the common room. She was slightly angry that Harry refused to go to the infirmary, but the more he claimed he was only exhausted, the less forceful her end of the battle became.

Harry stumbled through the halls on his way back up to the Gryffindor Tower. Even with Nathalie's support he was tripping every few steps. His head ached awfully. For a moment he was considering going to the hospital wing because, at the least, Madam Pomfrey would give him a potion for his headache.

He blinked his eyes a few times, finding that they were becoming increasingly blurred. Nathalie strengthened her grip on his arms as he began fall towards the ground. The pain in his head flared suddenly, making him crash to the floor, grabbing his forehead

You won't be safe for long.

Later on, Harry supposed he must have blacked out for a moment. The next thing he knew, he was outside the portrait of the Fat Lady, alone. He felt marginally better; the pain in his head had receded slightly. Shaking his head in confusion, he said the password and entered the common room.

~*~

Slowly, Harry became sicker and sicker. His powers grew rapidly and he couldn't control them at all. He'd have random outbursts of magical activity, some leaving him so weak he'd pass out. In training sessions he couldn't perform any spells without nearly blowing himself up with all the extra magic that was accidentally added to the spell.

The faster and more out of control his powers grew, the higher Harry's temperature went. He was going to classes with fevers of 38.5˚ daily. He'd spend mealtimes retching in the boys' toilets, unable to keep any of his food down. Sometimes he swore he was becoming delirious because memories were fading away quickly. He'd be in the middle of a class and suddenly think he was in his primary school.

Today for Harry had started off horribly. When Ron had shaken him awake for breakfast, Harry couldn't even lift his eyelids. He'd finally stumbled into the loo only to find himself sinking down next to the toilet and vomiting into it. It took a long time for him to pull himself together.

Professor McGonagall was in the middle of a lecture when Harry stumbled through the door to the classroom. He was clutching his stomach miserably as he slid into his seat next to Hermione. McGonagall stopped mid-sentence to stare at him.

"I wasn't feeling very well this morning," Harry croaked. "I'm sorry I'm late."

McGonagall continued to stare at him. "Potter, I suggest you go to Madam Pomfrey. You look too ill to be attending class."

Harry shook his head. "I'm fine. Continue with your lecture, I shouldn't have interrupted."

"Go to the infirmary this instant, Potter! This is not a request! I'm sure Miss Granger will lend you her notes. Leave your books here. Weasley, take him down, I want to make sure he gets there."

Harry's face paled even more. He'd been trying to avoid the infirmary at all costs; he didn't want to be there. Ron hauled him up roughly and Harry gritted his teeth. He silently cursed McGonagall for making him go. With Ron's steady hand he was guided from the room.

As they made their way down the hall, Harry seemed to come back to himself a bit. Some of the color returned to his face and he walked a little more confidently. His stomach still churned, however.

"Are you ok, mate?" Ron questioned.

"I've been better," Harry chuckled lightly. "I'll be fine, Ron. I just had a rough morning and a bad stomach ache, that's all."

Ron sighed and shook his head. His best friend wasn't fine, and he knew it. He bit his lip with worry. Something was definitely wrong.

All Harry had brought to Madam Pomfrey's attention was the fact that his stomach was queasy. She'd given him a potion and sent him on his way after half an hour, satisfied with its results. The small vial of potion had gotten him through the rest of the day in one piece.

At training that afternoon he was doing marginally better. He'd been able to retain enough control over his magic to prevent it from exploding outwards when he attempted a spell. Nathalie would only let him work on wandless spells, however, and none requiring thought magic. She felt he was still far too weak to attempt a massive spell like that again.

By the end of training Harry was starting to feel beaten again. The potion was wearing off and his head began to pound. Nathalie was still worried, but figured, after Harry's numerous protests of the infirmary, that Harry would be able to make it back to the common room by himself. She sent him off with a vial of a purple potion that she had requested from Madam Pomfrey earlier that day. The potion was to help his fever go down and to stop the queasiness of his stomach.

As Harry climbed the third flight of stairs he began to feel woozy. His eyes were playing tricks on him and he thought he was seeing triple because he couldn't remember there being three sets of knights' armor at the end of that hallway. His headache had increased in intensity, morphing into a horrible migraine, one of the worst Harry had ever had. He felt shaky all over.

He tripped suddenly, falling over the top step. He caught himself with his forearms, but the bottle of potion smashed under his stomach. The glass shards ripped through his shirt and he could feel a few of them embedding themselves in his torso. He moaned and suddenly lost all strength in his arms as his vision swam.

~*~

Ginny had found Harry when she'd been out on a Prefect's patrol a little later that night. She'd been shocked, needless to say, when she'd come across a body fallen over the stair. In the darkened hallway she hadn't been able to make out who it was. After her wand lit up with a "Lumos" spell, light had shone on a mop of black hair. Immediately Ginny became worried. There weren't many boys in the school with black hair.

As she quickly knelt down next to the boy, she noted how pale his arms were. His skin was cold and clammy to touch. Scared now, Ginny rolled the boy over, and screamed.

"Somebody help!" she shrieked down the corridor. "Help me!"

She checked for a pulse and found one, though it was incredibly fast. She yelled out again, pleading for someone to come. Hermione, who had come out on patrol with her, came sprinting down the hall.

"Ginny, what?" she said, dropping to her knees beside the redhead. "Dear Merlin," she breathed as she saw Harry's face. "We need to get him down to the hospital wing right now. Does he still have a pulse?"

Ginny was astounded at Hermione's quick reaction, even though she had always been the one to think in a crisis. "Very fast," she whispered.

Hermione began to lift Harry up, struggling under the weight of his limp form. Ginny stood to help after a moment. Hermione levitated Harry and conjured a stretcher, letting him down on it, and then she began to run down the hallway, steering the stretcher before her with her wand. Ginny followed, running along uselessly.

They burst into the hospital wing and Hermione dropped Harry on a bed. Ginny was yelling for Madam Pomfrey, who came running in, looking disheveled.

"What in Merlin's sake is wrong with him now?" she commented, rushing over to the bed.

Ginny and Hermione watched silently as the nurse checked him over, muttering things under her breath the entire time. She stood back and shook her head sadly. She laid a hand on Harry's forehead and instantly drew it back, if burned.

"This is not good. One of you-"

Her sentence was cut off as she was suddenly thrown to the floor. A wave of power spread through the infirmary, rattling tables and chairs, knocking potion bottles from shelves. It pulsed through, causing the three women to fall. Ginny was the first to recover from the earthquake-like force. She stood in time to see a smaller burst of power erupt. A few small pulses followed that. They came from Harry.

By this time, Madam Pomfrey had stood up, as well as Hermione.

"Get the Headmaster, one of you, now," Pomfrey commanded. "This matter is out of my hands."

Ginny and Hermione locked eyes for a second. With a silent nod from Hermione, Ginny took off sprinting through the corridors. It was obvious she was the faster runner of the two. She came to a halt in front of Dumbledore's office, saying the password and then continuing up the stairs.

"Professor Dumbledore!" she called, knocking frantically on the door. "Professor!"

Instead it was Professor Snape who opened the door. "We're busy," he said shortly. "If this is not a dire matter, do leave."

Ginny felt her eyes prick with tears. "Something's wrong with Harry. Madam Pomfrey sent me up here to get Professor Dumbledore."

The older wizard appeared at the door behind Snape. "I'm sorry, Severus. It looks as if we'll have to continue this meeting later. Let us go, Ginevra."

They strode into the hospital wing a few minutes later. Madam Pomfrey had returned to Harry's bedside and was watching him, a slightly confused look on her face.

"Poppy, what has happened here?" said Dumbledore.

"It was like an earthquake shockwave of - of magic! I do not know how to describe it. It was as if magic itself was flowing out of him."

Harry began to fidget in the bed and a small burst of power shot from him. Dumbledore sighed.

"Set up a monitoring spell that will tell us his temperature. I'm afraid this is not something you can deal with, Poppy. I will sit with Harry for now. What are his other symptoms?"

"He's running a very high fever he has a few cuts on his stomach from glass shards of the vial he smashed when he fell. He also seems to be very shaky."

Dumbledore nodded. "Thank you, Poppy. You may leave."

The witch nodded and left. The Headmaster also told Hermione and Ginny to return to their common rooms, saying this matter was out of their hands as well. When the infirmary was empty, he took a seat in the chair next to Harry's bed. Gently, he laid a hand on the boy's forehead, feeling the extreme heat of it. Dumbledore smoothed the sweaty hair back.

"Dear boy, I wish there was some way to stop you from going through this."

~*~

Three days later Harry's temperature had risen to over an astonishing 41˚. He alternated between periods of extreme heat and unstoppable chills so rapidly that everyone had given up trying to accommodate him. Though he should have been dead at a much lower temperature, wizarding fevers caused by rapid power growth often caused higher temperatures that a wizard could withstand.

Harry tossed and turned, nearly unable to stay still, completely delirious. He'd woken up for brief periods in the past day but was so disoriented and feverish that he couldn't make out where he was, let alone who the people were at the bedside. He thrashed about so badly that Madam Pomfrey sometimes had to restrain him with a spell just to force the potions down his throat. So far, unfortunately, the potions hadn't done a thing. They counteracted with each other as well as the magic in Harry's body.

Dumbledore had concluded that the reason for Harry's power surges was that his body couldn't handle the amount of raw magic that was being unlocked inside of the boy, causing it to spill out. It was as if Harry's magic had clogged and had finally found a drain to pour out of. In the past two days the number of surges had dropped dramatically. It had gone from at least five an hour down to so far only one today.

Dumbledore sat at Harry's bedside, watching the teenager sleep. Harry was obviously uncomfortable, tossing back and forth, his sheets tangled around him. His eyes flitted around under closed eyelids. He was in pain as well, though from what, no one knew. Another low moan escaped his throat.

Dumbledore watched silently as Harry let out a half-moan, half-sob of pain. The boy's eyes fluttered open and he stared at the aged wizard unseeingly. Then he rolled over, muttered something unintelligible, and then fell into unconsciousness once more.

Harry was thrown out of his black abyss after an insanely long time. He didn't know how long he had been there, but it had seemed like an eternity. Something was pushing him to open his eyes and he tried to, nearly crying out in pain. He tried to move his fingers and heard himself moan in anguish. What had happened to him?

After much effort Harry opened his eyes. His vision was so blurred he couldn't tell who it was sitting at his bedside. He couldn't even distinguish if it was a man or a woman. He rolled over and found his body protesting with an excruciating pain even worse than before. Harry closed his eyes, hoping the pain would go away. It felt horrible, his entire body was on fire but frozen numb at the same time. A wave of chills swept over him and Harry succumbed once more to the darkness.

This time he was only in the abyss for minutes before he found himself staring at a group of people. Bellatrix Lestrange and Blaise's Uncle were bowing in front of him.

"Good. What have you found so far, Zabini?"

"My Lord, the shield seems to be made of an ancient magic that has been unheard of before. I have tried, my Lord, but so far I have found no reference to it. I will continue to search."

"Disappointing," Voldemort hissed. "Next time you turn up empty handed you will be punished."

"Yes, my Lord. I am sorry, my Lord."

Voldemort waved him off and then paused. "The brat is here," he snarled angrily.

Harry felt a horrible burst of pain flood his head and then he knew no more.

~*~

Four days later Harry's temperature began to fall back into a moderate fever. His spurts of magic had stopped completely and the pain in his body had receded greatly. He was still very sick and delirious, often mistaking Ginny for his dead mum. In those instances, he was very confused, and it seemed he had lost all recollection of the fact his parents were dead.

Most of the time, however, he was sleeping fitfully, crying out from nightmares. Inadvertently, he'd conjured cuffs to chain his wrists and ankles to stop himself from shaking and thrashing about in the bed. He'd lost his voice numerous times from screaming.

Everyone was incredibly worried about Harry. His nightmares were so horrendous, and the intensity had increased tenfold in the past week, that it scared everyone to even imagine what he was dreaming. The fact that his fever was uncontrollable also heightened their fears. The potions Madam Pomfrey had forced Harry to take still had done nothing to help him.

Currently, Ginny was skipping her lunch to sit at Harry's bedside. He was in the throes of another dream, and she reached out to touch him, desperately hoping that their connection was still working. She felt a sudden spark and almost sighed aloud in relief. She laid her head on Harry's chest, which oddly enough reduced his thrashing, before sinking into his world of dreams.

Harry was running. His feet pounded harshly against the rocks of the cliff he was running upon. He kept looking over his shoulder, fearful, and Ginny watched in wonder. She looked back and saw nothing. Confused, she stared for a few more minutes before she saw it.

There she was, the leader of a never-ending mass of people. The real Ginny blanched, her mind racing, trying to figure out what was happening. A knife whipped by her and hit Harry in the back with stunning accuracy. Tearing her eyes off Harry's stumbling form, she turned back to the horde of people, and saw to her shock that dream-Ginny was smirking evilly, conjuring a second knife in her hand and throwing it. Real-Ginny's eyes widened further as she watched the knife embed itself in Harry's skin right as he dove headfirst off the end of the cliff. Real-Ginny screamed.

A sudden jolt pulled Ginny back to reality. Harry had bolted upright, knocking her head from his chest, and was staring at her, astonished.

"Ginny?"

Ginny took a second to regain a sense of where she was and who had just spoken. She stared up at Harry.

"What were you just dreaming?" she asked, shocked.

"You saw it through the link," he stated. "I don't need to repeat it."

Ginny continued to stare. Harry was coherent for the first time in over a week. The moment was lost before she could make anything of it, however. Harry turned away from her and curled up in a ball.

"Mum," he cried quietly. "I want my mum."

Ginny nearly cried along with him. She wanted her Harry back. The situation was starting to worsen and Ginny felt it was time that she set into motion her plan to get Harry back to his old self. From behind her she produced a plain wooden box.

Within this box were memorabilia from Harry's parents; the box Remus had given him over Christmas. Ginny opened the box slowly and took out the item on top, a picture of Harry's parents, with Harry, that she remembered to have made Harry cry. She noticed that Harry had turned back over, and was watching her with earnest. His eyes held a clouded, confused look. However, she knew he recognized the things in the box.

Ginny snuggled into Harry's chest as he sat up in his bed and took the box off his nightstand. He had been scared to open it, afraid of what he would see, and how much emotion he would be showing. Ginny's warmth comforted him, and he slowly opened the lid. The first thing he pulled out was a stack of pictures. Some of them featured a pregnant Lily along with James, and others had the addition of a baby Harry. Many of them were taken outside of their home in Godric's Hollow. Ginny watched as Harry smoothed his thumb over his mother's figure, then his father's. She instantly felt new rage towards Voldemort for killing Harry's parents and leaving him to learn about them through stories and pictures.

The next two objects were rings. Wedding rings. Ginny swore she heard Harry choke on a sob as he took them out, his hands shaking visibly. Harry felt a huge sense of comfort as Ginny squeezed his hand. He folded his fingers over the rings in his palm and continued to look through the box.

Harry pulled out the next item, a beautiful emerald necklace that had obviously belonged to Lily. On the back of the stone mounted on a gold diamond was the engraving 'I will always love you - James'. Through the sadness it brought a smile to Ginny's face. Harry's parents had a love that many envied, including herself. She hoped that one day she and Harry would have a love that strong, but first, the war needed to end. There were a few other trinkets such as James's prized Golden Snitch, a drawing of Harry Lily had done in charcoal, and a tape of songs that Lily and James had enjoyed.

Ginny pulled Lily's emerald necklace out of the box and placed it gently in her palm, showing it to Harry. He stared blankly, but after a while she could see the disorientation and delirium start to fade. His eyes became clearer, more focused, and sharper as he stared at the necklace.

"Harry, where is your mum?" she asked gently.

"She's coming," he responded, voice hoarse and raspy. "They're Flooing her and she'll be..."

Ginny continued to stare at him.

"She's - he's - they're... dead..." he commented quietly. "Oh."

Ginny stroked his hair, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. Harry leaned into her touch, feeling incredibly stupid. He couldn't believe that in his delirious state he'd actually thought his parents were alive. Chills spread rapidly throughout his body, causing him to pull away from Ginny and sink under his covers. He felt exhausted and muttered a quick apology to Ginny, which she immediately shushed him for, and fell into a deep sleep.

~*~

"How is Harry?" Mrs. Weasley asked as soon as Dumbledore arrived at Grimmauld Place. "Has his fever broken yet?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "I'm afraid Harry's had a fever much longer then he's let on, most likely since December when he unlocked one of the final stages of his power. He cannot control most of the magic that flows through his veins, and therefore is getting high magical fevers. The fever won't go away completely until he learns to control his power. As soon as it drops below 38.5˚ he will begin training again."

"Albus, that's absurd!" Molly cried. "He's still sick, you can't start training!"

"From what we could gather, Harry has been going around with fevers ranging from 37.5˚ to just under 38.5˚ for the past two months. He was fine through that, and we can't waste any more time, Molly. A battle draws closer with each day and we can't shelter Harry forever."

Molly stood her ground. "I refuse to let you go through with this."

"There is no other option, Molly," Dumbledore said, his voice showing clear agitation.

This tone was what made Molly back down for the time being. Few had ever heard Dumbledore speak in a tone that was not his normal mystical voice. This new tone scared Molly. Dumbledore only showed emotion if something was deadly wrong.

"Let us go in then, Albus," she said quietly, opening the door to the meeting room for the Headmaster.

Dumbledore took a seat at the head of a long table. He sat back, allowing the room's occupants a few more minutes to chat with each other. Finally, he gathered everyone's attention and motioned for them to take a seat.

"I have called to order a meeting of the Order of the Phoenix. This meeting is to hear a report from Severus Snape and to discuss with whom it concerns about Harry's current health. Severus, if you please."

"I'm afraid I don't have much to report on tonight," Snape said, rising. "Since the raid on the Ministry things have been mostly quiet. The Dark Lord has accomplished most of what he desired, having the Ministry in upheaval so he can place his own representatives in to influence the government. His plans were slightly thwarted by the quick appointment of Madam Bones, however, and the Dark Lord is now finding it hard to place spies within the Ministry.

"Everyone seems to be focused on a new target. From what I have gathered, this relates directly to Potter's dreams. The Dark Lord is searching for something in Greece, something with heavy and powerful magical shields. Within this protected place resides an incredibly powerful ancient magic that the Dark Lord feels he must possess to complete his quest for immortality. By piecing together information I have heard, I believe that he is searching for the lost city of Atlantis."

There were several gasps heard around the room as the sentence concluded. Dumbledore leaned forward in his chair, expressing his interest.

"I do not know of anything else on that topic. However, I have also become aware of a research project concerning an object in France. I am not yet sure of what this object is. This summer, the Dark Lord will put into motion his final preparations for achieving his immortality. I fear this object is connected to what the Dark Lord plans on doing. I do not have anything else to report."

Snape took his seat quickly and quietly, ignoring the murmuring that crept up around him. Dumbledore shushed them all in seconds.

"I want you to find out everything you can about those topics, Severus. Between your information and Harry's dreams we may be able to piece together what will be happening this summer. If anyone has any information or finds any information on these topics, do speak up at any time." Dumbledore paused for a moment. "Now, moving on, to the issue of Harry's health which I know Molly is most concerned about; Remus as well. Harry's fever has dropped back considerably and his delirium has faded slightly. The magical pulses have stopped; leading me to believe that whatever spurred the quick unlocking of Harry's power has vanished as a driving force, meaning Harry has unlocked his full potential as a wizard. I plan to-"

"Professor Dumbledore!" came a shrill cry from the other room. "Professor Dumbledore, please!"

Albus rose from his chair, recognizing the voice as Ginny Weasley's. Panic set in lightly. He knew Ginny would not disrupt an Order meeting unless it was a deadly situation. He pushed out of the meeting room and found Ginny standing outside of the door, tears pooling in her eyes.

"I don't know what happened," she said, trembling. "I went in to visit Harry and he - he was convulsing a-and thrashing and there were restraints. The magical p-pulses have started again and no one knows what's happening," Ginny said, near hysterics. "Madam Pomfrey said his temperature spiked back up to 41˚ in less than five seconds and it's still rising-"

"Shh, Ginny," the older wizard said, trying to calm the young girl. "I'm sure Harry will be fine."

Ginny shook her head no, her fear evident. Dumbledore reactivated the Portkey that was being held limply in her hand and they were whisked off to the Hogwarts infirmary. Upon their landing, they were nearly blown off their feet by the force of the magical shockwave that came from Harry.

"Oh, Albus, thank Merlin!" Madam Pomfrey cried. "I can't control him! The spells I put on him to stop his thrashing didn't work; they were all refracted by his magic. I ended up having to conjure these bands to restrain him!"

Dumbledore looked to the bed and saw that heavy metal bands were stopping the movement in Harry's wrists and ankles. The boy was screaming himself hoarse, spurts of magic pouring from him in waves. He was desperately trying to break free of the restraints, moving wildly, all the while his eyes closed.

For the first time in a long time, Albus Dumbledore hadn't a clue how to handle the situation.

~~**~~