My So-Called-Immortal

Chapter 5: Meaning behind Prongs Madness

Hermione and Ron were on the couch of the common room, Hermione's shirt down at her waist and Ron's hands moving up her back. Hermione hastened to put her shirt back on.

"It's not what you think Harry," she tried to explain.

Harry wasn't hearing what she said. His mind was becoming blurry. What was going on here? Ron and Hermione? No fricking way! That just was too weird.

"What...how...wh...Oh, bloody hell!" Harry shouted.

Hermione finished buttoning her blouse and ran up to Harry. Ron pulled his robe back on slowly as he watched the two of them.

"Ron and I stared dating this summer. After Percy died, we started spending a lot of time together, and one thing led to another then..."

"So let me get this straight. Ron's brother died and you were like, 'Oh, Ron, I'm sorry for your loss. Here, have sex with me and we'll make it all better'!"

"No! It was nothing like that!" Hermione shouted. She pulled her robes over her blouse and looked at Harry hard. "Look, Ron and I love each other. I tried to comfort him after Percy died and then I just starting spending all my time with him. So...we...uh"

"She's the only person I could really talk to without someone else bursting into tears or blaming themselves or dumb shit like that," Ron said, standing next to Hermione.

"That reminds me," Hermione said abruptly. "Harry, show me your wrist."

"What?" Harry demanded. He wasn't scared about her finding out he'd made three suicide attempts. He just didn't want the lecture that would come next.

"Professor Lupin wants to know how you're handling the...situation."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Sirius died a year ago, ok? I'm handling the 'situation' how I want to handle it. I have two scars on my left wrist," he tore back his sleeve and thrust out his left arm, "oh, and I've got a fresh scar coming in along right over those two!"

Hermione's eyes widened in shock. "Harry!"

"Yeah, yeah, bitch about it later. I'm going to bed." He stormed away from Ron and Hermione and almost ran up the dormitory steps. When he reached the room, he made sure it was completely empty before he crossed the room to his trunk. He opened the trunk and began to dig through for the knife he swiped from the Dursley's house. When he finally found it, he walked over to the window of the dorm.

The evening looked so peaceful, Harry thought that it should look as awful as he felt. Nothing deserved to be peaceful or happy when he was suffering so much. Ron and Hermione didn't deserve it and Voldemort sure as hell didn't deserve it. As he thought of them, he felt the cold blade begin to slowly tear the top layer of skin. Fresh blood began to drip from his wrist onto the floor. This time wouldn't be enough to kill him. To be honest with himself, ever since Sirius's death Harry's been terrified of dying, even after four suicide attempts.

He gazed down at the bleeding wound. This always seemed to help him calm down. It was almost as if the troubles he was facing dripped out of his system with the blood. But it would be done in a few minutes and he would be back at square one.

As he waited for the bleeding to stop, he sat on his bed and looked at the pendent a little more closely. He noticed on the back were the engraved initials H.J.P. Those were his initials. So this hadn't belong to his father. It was a gift from his father to him. But what purpose did it have for Harry? To serve as a reminder of yet another thing he didn't have.

Harry lay on his back staring at the ceiling. There had to be some reason this was left for him. He felt his eyelids droop slightly. He hadn't slept in four days. It would feel good to sleep for a few hours...

"Hey! Padfoot! You seen the kid round here?" a tall man with messy black hair was crouched on his hands and knees looking under the kitchen table. He had the tablecloth lifted in a firm grip as he franticly searched for a young infant.

"He's not in his room or your room, Prongs," another man with short black hair, not as dark as the other man's, entered the room.

Prongs dropped the tablecloth and got to his feet. "I swear to God, that kid's gonna be the death of me. I'm too old to have a kid of my own."

Padfoot gave a bark like laugh. "Ok, a) you are the youngest out of all the Marauders and b) regardless of the fact you were voted Least Likely Marauder to Have a Family First, you have been a great father."

He clapped a hand onto Prongs' shoulder. "Besides," he continued, "this kid's not gonna kill ya. Lily is."

"Oh shit!" Prongs shouted. "Lily's gonna be home any second and I haven't found"

"Haven't found what, James?"

Prongs and Padfoot turned to see a young woman standing in the doorway. She had her thick auburn hair in a messy bun and penetrating green eyes that Prongs had come to be terrified of.

"Later, Prongs. I've gotta go see Moony about a few things. See ya at your funeral." Padfoot ran out the door past Lily.

"Sirius!" James shouted after his friend. His hazel eyes turned to Lily.

Her eyes hadn't lost any of their fierceness in the past few seconds as he'd hoped they would. "James, you've got five seconds."

"The kid was playing in the room and then Sirius showed up so I went to talk to him and then I came back and he was gone. Please don't kill me." He said all this very fast.

Lily smiled. "Now, when you say you lost 'the kid', you mean our son who is sitting right behind you?"

James turned. Sitting on the ground with tiny arms out stretched was the Potter's five-month-old son. He had a small patch of the same jet-black hair that James had as well, but his eyes matched those of his mother. Bright green, but with a child-like innocence about them.

"Harry," Lily said as she picked up her son. James smiled as long antlers began to grow out of his head. He crouched down to all fours and began to sprout fur all over his body. His face elongated and his hands became coal black hooves.

The small child began to giggle with delight as the stag came closer to the tiny hands.

"You sure love your father, don't you, Harry?" Lily said reaching into her pocket and pulling out a small necklace with a stag charm dangling off it. "Merry Christmas, honey," she said as she kissed the top of the infant's head. She then looked at the stag and smiled. "You're a wonderful husband, and a great father. And I'm sure you'll do just as well next time."

Lily gave her belly a small rub. "Oh!" she said suddenly.

The stag looked at her, then quickly transformed back into a man. "What is it, honey?" James asked.

"It kicked."

Chapter 6:Confessions of a Angst Teen

Harry still wasn't talking to Ron or Hermione, so he sat with Ginny the next morning at breakfast. He told her about his dream or memory or whatever it was.

"But, if your mum had another kid, then how did it survive You-Know-Who?"

Harry shook his head. "I didn't think about that. I don't even think about if the kid was born before Halloween. If that was the case they're dead and I'm back to square one. Living with muggles who hate me when everyone in my family is dead." Harry reached for some sausage, the sleeve of his left arm rising up a bit.

Ginny grabbed Harry's arm causing him to drop the plate. "Harry, what the hell is that?" she half shouted, shaking his wrist.

Harry tore his arm out of Ginny's grasp. "It's nothing," he said quickly, rubbing his wrist.

"If it's nothing, why are you so keen to keep it out of sight?" Ginny demanded as Harry shoved his left fist into his pocket.

"OK!" Harry shouted causing the entire Gryffindor Table to stare. "JESUS! I'VE BEEN SLICING MY WRIST OPEN ALL SUMMER! MY GODFATHER'S DEAD, MY ONLY 'FAMILY' THINKS I'M WORSE THEN SCUM, AND EVERYTIME I SEE A 'FRIEND' THEY REMIND ME OF LAST SUMMER! 'ARE YOU OK, HARRY?' HELL NO, I'M NOT! 'IT WASN'T YOUR FAULT, HARRY!' PROVE IT! 'OH GOD HARRY, YOU'VE MADE FOUR SUICIDE ATTEMPS!' MY ONLY REGRET IS THEY HAVEN'T KILLED ME YET! WHY DO YOU CARE SO MUCH? WHY DOES ANYONE WANT TO TRY AND UNDERSTAND WHAT KIND OF PAIN THIS IS?" Harry knocked over his goblet, spilling pumpkin juice all over the floor, table, and a few watching Gryffindors. He stormed out of the Great Hall, not caring that every eye in the hall was staring at him.

Harry slammed the door to the broom closet shut behind him. He kicked the far wall as hard as he could. He hated the world for pestering him. He hated life for keeping him here. He hated Sirius for...

No, he told himself. You don't hate Sirius. You have no reason to. He was only doing what any godfather would do.

Harry slid down the wall he had kicked. Tears began to pour out of his eyes before he knew they were there. He hugged his legs to his chest, burring his face within his knees. Maybe, if he curled up into a tiny ball, the world would forget about him.

"Harry?"

Not a chance of that happening.

"Harry, are you alright?"

Harry didn't answer. He didn't want to answer because he didn't trust his mouth to speak.

"Harry, I'm coming in whether you like it or not."

Harry looked up. A sliver of light came into the broom closet. Just enough light to illuminate Harry's seeker.

Hermione knelt beside Harry. She ran a hand through his hair. For some reason, Harry didn't seem to mind it. He almost understood what Ron was saying when he talked about talking to her about his problems. Only difference was Harry wasn't talking.

"What happened?" she asked, pushing back his bangs, gently rubbing his scar. The curse that brought on every terrible thing in his life. The one thing that drove him to the Department of Mysteries last summer.

Harry was tore between spilling his guts out and telling he to get the hell away. He resolved by shaking his head.

"I don't want to understand you. I'm just worried. Harry, you're my friend. You're the first friend I ever had. I always knew if I need anything I could come to you. I just want you to know the same." She stood and began to leave when Harry found his voice.

"I'm just," he began, his voice quivering, "so sick of getting all this sympathy from everyone. They should know that I'll talk when I'm ready. I know that they think 'What if he's never ready to talk about it?' I was ok with talking about my parents after ten years of not knowing the truth and then finding out I was lied to." Harry could hear his voice rising, so he tried to calm down again. "I'll be ready when I'm ready."

Hermione knelt in front of him again. "And I'll be waiting to talk to you."

Harry gazed up into her eyes then felt himself lean forward and close his eyes. He felt the soft, moist lips of Hermione and then lost himself in her passionate love.

"YOU SLUT!"

The two turned to the door to find Ron standing in the doorway. He just stood dumbfounded for a few seconds then stormed off.

"Ron," Hermione called after him. She stood up and ran out of the closet leaving Harry by himself again.

"Now, can anyone tell me how to distinguish the Chinese dragon from the Japanese dragon?"

Harry sat in the back of his Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Their new teacher was a guy that Harry personally didn't care for. His name was Jonathan Daniels and he quickly jumped into the lesson about Asian Dragons. Harry actually knew what the answer was as he spent most of his summer studying to keep his mind off of Sirius.

"No one," Professor Daniels went on, "can tell me?" His deep blue, almost black, eyes scanned the class. A small smirk crept along his slightly wrinkled face. "Well, let me see if this will help. You will loose two points for every minute that goes by until I get a right answer. Answer a question wrong and you will loose five points."

"What the hell are we on? Jeopardy?" Harry heard Dean Thomas whisper to Seamus Finnigan.

"What's Jeopardy?" Seamus whispered back.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for talking out of turn," Professor Daniels said suddenly from the front of the room.

The room fell into silence. Harry scanned the room for any signs that someone besides him knew the answer.

Hermione had her head down on her book, apparently still broken up about the fight with Ron. Ron had a scrap piece of parchment out and was doodling on the parchment. Other students were staring into space or trying to talk to the person next to them without being caught. Professor Daniels was writing very quickly on a long piece of parchment at the front of the room, his face hidden by the slight shagginess of his dishwater hair.

Harry looked at his watch. Five minutes had passed already. That meant they'd lost ten more points. Harry couldn't take it anymore. Slowly, he raised his hand into the air.

"Umm...Professor?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter?" Professor Daniels replied without looking.

"A Japanese dragon normally shoots out a stream of fire where as a Chinese dragon only shoots out fireballs."

"And what if you need to know before the dragon makes you Mongolian barbecue?" the professor asked, still writing on his parchment.

Harry rolled his eyes. "The Chinese dragon is smaller in length and is normally thinner then the Japanese dragon."

Professor Daniels looked up from his desk. "Five points to Gryffindor. Mr. Potter, you are excused from tonight's homework. The rest of you, two and a half rolls of parchment on the differences between all Asian Dragons. Class dismissed."

The bell wasn't to ring for another twenty minutes, but no one was complaining about leaving that class early. Everyone gathered their things as fast as they could and made a dash for the door.

"Mr. Potter, I'd like to see you for a minute please."

Harry was going to try to go to the library and look into the phoenix charm of Kiri's, but now he guessed he had other plans. He gathered the rest of his books and walked to the front of the class.

"Yes?"

Professor Daniels moved his parchment aside and looked up at Harry. "You're a sharp boy, Potter. Most wizards and witches don't know the difference until they graduate from Hogwarts."

Harry shrugged. "I got bored this summer and read Mythology, Real or Rubbish and they had a big section on dragons I really liked."

Professor Daniels removed his gold circular glasses. "Harry, have you ever heard of the Amazon Academy?"

Harry shook his head.

"They're a group of bright young witches and wizards like your self. They are trained as the elite. Many of them over come what any Auror would see in their entire career. They are trained well beyond normal wand magic. We have pyro kinetics, tele kinetics, astro kinetics, hydro kinetics, electro kinetics, any combination of the above, excellence in the field of combat, and far about N.E.W.T.s as far as intellect."

Harry thought his jaw would hit the floor. This sounded like something he'd want to be a part of. Learn advance magic, become stronger.

"Here," Professor Daniels handed Harry a small piece of parchment. "They have an orientation tomorrow. I hope to see you there." He went back to writing on the parchment in front of him as Harry made his way out of the room.

Harry sat in his dormitory with the parchment between his fingers. This was a great opportunity. A way to help himself get prepared to fight Voldemort, a way to get an upper hand on him. He didn't have to make a final choice now. He could see the facility, talk to the head of the facility and make his decision from there at the orientation.

That was it, he decided after a few more minutes of thinking. He'd check the place out with Professor Daniels. Tomorrow.

He lay down on his pillows, not even taking off his glasses. Tomorrow, he thought before his eyelids shut out the world.

"Yes, Jonathan. What is it?"

Jonathan knelt before the shadowed figure behind a mahogany desk.

"Everything is set, Milady," Jonathan answered.

"I know that. You disturbed me to tell me something I could easily find out for myself?"

"Forgive me," Jonathan said beginning to feel a little nervous.

"Now, you know you have nothing to fear," the voice said soothingly. The figure rose from its chair and moved a hand out of the shadows.

A small pale hand appeared in the dim firelight. The hand ran along Jonathan's slightly wrinkled face. Jonathan suddenly seemed to realize the hand was on his face. He grabbed the hand suddenly.

"You shouldn't be up! You know what"

"You worry too much, dear uncle. Did you send the letter to the Ministry explaining the use of magic this summer?"

"That wasn't his job, as I recall," a voice answered from the doorway. The sound of thin, high-heeled shoes reached Jonathan's ears.

"Ah, I should have expected to see you here," the figure said, returning to the chair behind the desk.

"Headmistress, I must protest! How can you allow that pitiful excuse for a being to come to the Academy? He has no powers what so ever and he is so set in the ways of wizards that he will never understand!"

"As I understand it, you had no powers when you were left on the steps of my academy, your blankets covered in blood. Why should the boy's case be any different, Kiri?"