Dursley Dream

Chapter 7: LOVE THE MOMENT

    The very next morning, Harry's eyes were as heavy as fully grown dragons. He squinted and one eye stayed open. Draco Malfoy was standing over him. The one eye Harry had open rolled around at the sight.

    "Eat poison, Malfoy."

    Malfoy snickered. This was not the morning to be seeing him. Harry tried to thrust him out of the door but nothing happened. He opened his other eye and looked at a table next to him where his wand was. He picked it up, pointed it at Malfoy and muttered something. That worked, and it sent Malfoy clean down the hall. Ron and Hermione both woke up.

    "What's he doing here?" asked Ron. Harry rubbed his eyes and sat up.

    "Who knows. What's more important is why can't I use that strong levitation spell anymore."

    "You what?" said Ron and Hermione together.

    "I don't know," he replied. "Wonder if the foresight still works." Harry closed his eyes and put his thoughts into it concentrating on Malfoy. Nothing. His vision didn't blacken and he felt nothing. He looked up with confusion at Ron. "Nothing?"

    "Maybe I can offer some insight," said Professor McGonagall as she came in. She held a book in her hand with her index finger held between two pages she must have been reading.

    "Good morning," said Hermione.

    "Glad to see you're all right, Harry. We weren't all just reading books on raising the dead, you know," she said sternly to Hermione who blushed. That's all that was on her mind for one week straight. "It would appear Professor Dumbledore had told you something quite backwards. Remember when he told you, Harry, that you could not attempt foresight on him since he had the ability, too?" She sat on the end of Harry's bed, opened the book and started to read. She muttered some of the words before she began, "Ah, here." She looked at Harry from the top of her square glasses while still facing the book, gave him her cold eyes, and read.

    "'Foresight is a seven thousand year old phenomenon. Originating from the dementors, which evolved into their ability to steal souls, there also evolved a good and bad side. The bad side can only successfully catch foresight into those who also possessed the bad, however strong or weak it was, or a good mind, too weak to force it out.

    "Good foresight cannot penetrate the bad mind at all unless the bad mind is extremely adept. In either case, if the mind is sufficiently strong, targets of such strong foresight could not feel a presence. In the case of a weak mind, or not able to properly control foresight, one with a strong, bad mind can manipulate the weak one. In all cases, a bad mind cannot penetrate another mind unless it possesses foresight of some type. Fortunately, it has been noted that foresight, good or bad, cannot penetrate a well trained good mind. Rumors contrary to the fact have popped up but were consistently put to rest after some further research.'" She paused expecting Harry to say something but he sat waiting impatiently for her to continue.

    She didn't have anything else to read, though. She closed the book and said, "Does that clear up a few things for you, Harry?"

    It took Harry a few seconds to digest it all, but he was satisfied.

    "I was right," he said. "That leaves question though. Is Vold- er, You-Know-Who invading my mind? If =- if he is, that means I have a bad mind... But, does that mean, since it looks like I can't use it any longer, that the visions will stop?"

    "Yes," she said definitvely. Harry beamed a smile at Ron and Hermione. McGonagall sighed. "No one knows yet how he can penetrate your mind. No doubt we will be looking for the answer. Unfortunately, there is still Ron's parents that must be found." Ron gave Harry a depressing look. Professor McGonagall turned to Harry. "Your extra magic most likely disappeared into that dementor." And then she smiled which confused everyone. "You can probably find it."

    "Find it!? Why would we want to find it?!" squealed Harry.

    "When a dementor isn't successful, it turns white." She sighed again. "Of course, it's probably even more angry. If you found it, it would most likely be alone but you could summon a Patronus and the dementor would return what it stole."

    "I'm not facing another dementor as long as I live," snapped Harry. No way was he going to give a dementor a remote chance of killing him again. "Not until I can have a Patronus walk next to me wherever I go."

    "Ah, but you can do that," said McGonagall. Harry's mouth almost fell to the floor. "Simply call a Patronus when you think dementors are around. It won't leave if it senses them, too." Why hadn't he ever thought of that?

    "It's settled, then, right?" said Ron. They had all completely forgotten about his missing parents. Harry felt guilty. All this time they worried about bringing him back to life and Ron's parents took back seat. "We're going?" Ron looked worried.

    "Yeah, we're going," Harry said, looking worried too. "After this is over I want some more of that sleeping potion. Put me out for a month."

    Professor McGonagall smiled.

    "We tried that once, took another month to wake the person up."

    "If we're going to go, we better go now," said Harry. They checked to make sure they all had their wands and started to walk out when Madam Pomfrey walked in.

    "No you don't. You're not going anywhere for a day. You were dead for more than two weeks, remember?" Harry's face turned red. "I'm sure you still feel strange. Another good night's sleep, Harry, and you'll feel a lot more like going after stuff." Indeed, it was strange to look down and see feet. He could no longer float and there weren't any freaky monsters wandering around him anymore. Ron looked more worried.

    "But --"

    "They're fine... just fine. Professor Dumbledore knows exactly where they are. He dare not go after them though because he belives You-Know-Who has some more tricks up his sleeve. Dumbledore has confidence that something about you, Harry, will stump him again."

    So they would spend another night in the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey brought them lunch; Harry had slept through breakfast.

    "What do you think Malfoy wanted?" asked Hermione.

    "I wish I knew, I'd like to make him explode," said Harry, scowling at the thought.

    "I wish you would, Potter, then I wouldn't have to look at you anymore." Malfoy walked in happily at the thought of no more Harry. He stood in the doorway. "It was pleasant with you gone. Would you please get yourself killed again? Oh and this time don't forget to stay dead."

    "That's right Malfoy, just piss him off more and he'll hit you with some new magic," said Ron hotly.

    Harry stood up and ran over to Malfoy but Ron and Hermione stopped him. Harry's voice was slow and icy.

    "I'd like to see you kill a thirty foot troll and a ten foot spider then get surrounded by dementors and live to tell about it," he said, eyeing Malfoy dangerously.

    "You didn't live. You died, remember?"

    With one wrench of his arm, Harry broke himself free and lunged at Malfoy. They slid several feet along the stone floor before coming to a stop. Harry raised his hand to punch... when his fist started to grow about twice the size of normal. Without noticing it, he hit Malfoy squarely in the jaw and heard a crack. Draco would have cried out in pain, but he saw Harry's still-enlarged fist.

    Slowly, it shrunk to normal size right before their eyes. Malfoy got up and ran away. There was a big bulge forming where Harry hit him but he just wanted out. Hermione and Ron stood agasp. Harry was still kneeling down, his fist recoiled behind his head, now looking ready to punch the floor. The three of them were at a loss for words.

    "That, my friends, is more dark magic beginning to show itself." Dumbledore must have seen Malfoy running away. He had Sirius with him, who looked slightly concerned. "We don't know what this is all about, Harry, but you and I know it cannot continue." Dumbledore kneeled next to Harry, pulled his arm up and walked him back to his bed in the hospital wing. "Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, please come with me. I'm going to see what I can find in the library. Harry, you stay here for the night."

    And with a wave of the wand, Dumbledore put Harry to sleep.

    He had no nightmares that night, but two dreams stuck out like sore thumbs. In one, he punched Malfoy again. Instead of his fist stopping though, Malfoy went straight through the ground. That was the dream Harry liked. The other dream disturbed him. He didn't know what to make of it.

    The Durselys were in a pit deep underground. Harry happened to walk by and hear them all screaming. He floated down to see what was in there, it was a single white dementor advancing on them. He called upon a Patronus and the dementor ran away, dropping a black box laden with gold trimmings. It sparkled from the sunlight above. When Harry tried to open the box, the dream vanished and Harry woke up in a cold sweat, not knowing why. The dream wasn't scary, just strange. What was in that box?

    Morning arrived and Harry had completely forgotten about the dream. Ron and Hermione woke him up so he could get breakfast with them. Into the Great Hall they walked. There was only one long table set up. School not being in session, there wasn't much point in setting up all four grand tables with plates. The three of them sat down. Harry had scrambled eggs, Hermione was eating toast and Ron had waffles.

    "Had a good sleep, Harry?" asked Hermione. Harry took a sip of his orange juice.

    "Very nice. Not one nightmare," he said giggling.

    A little bit of juice dripped on his robes. Nobody thought it out of the ordinary to see Harry in his new color of red but, pumpkin juice? Everyone took notice! Ron waved his wand. A napkin shot out of it and he gave it to Harry.

    "I'm still worried about mum and dad..." Ron said. Harry knew how he felt.

    "At least you won't end up like me," Harry reminded him. "Fourteen and living with people you hate more than Draco Malfoy. Why do you think I keep coming back?" Harry made himself angry and took a bigger forkful of food than he could stick in his mouth at once. He pushed it in at the corners with his fingers. Having not eaten a full three meals in almost three weeks, he didn't mind the mess.

    "You're welcome to stay with us, you know," said Ron.

    "Professor Dumbledore doesn't want me to go just yet. I wish I knew why!"

    No sooner had he finished speaking when a new two slices of bread appeared in Hermione's now-empty plate. Every meal was an all you can eat buffet. As soon as you finished eating, the plate refilled itself. Harry finished up his and two more scrambled eggs made their way in front of him.

    "You eat like a pig, Harry," Hermione told him.

    "Haven't eaten right for almost three weeks, of course I'm hungry. Can't fight badguys on an empty stomach," he barked all the while stuffing his face with food. All three of them finished up their current servings and walked quietly to their respective bathrooms. They did their thing and met back in the Gryffindor commons.

    "I really should change," said Harry looking down and sniffing himself.

    "No arguement there," said Hermione smelling him too.

    "What did you do with yours, Hermione. Did the stain come out?"

    "I burned them."

    "Burned them?" asked Ron.

    "Burned them..." Hermione's eyes looked watery. She put her head down and walked towards the fire. "Go ahead, try to wash it, that's not coming out."

    Indeed, it wasn't.

    All manner of clothes-cleaning spells did not manage to even make the color go faint. Within minutes, the huge glass bowl Hermione summoned was full of suds and water.

    "I couldn't bare to keep them knowing what happened that day," said Hermione, sitting down and looking ready to cry again.

    "No, there she goes again. Do something!" Ron panicked at the thought of Hermione crying again. She put her head in her hands between her knees and started lightly sobbing. Harry walked in front of her and got on one knee.

    "Hermione, look at me." She started to cry.

    "Oh, someone save me," Ron groaned turning away.

    Harry pushed her hands up just high enough so she could see him out of the top of her eyes. She looked up on her own. Harry stood up and Hermione threw her arms around him nearly knocking both of them down. Harry hugged back.

    "Not again... cross my heart and hope to d... er," and he let out a cough. Hermione took a big sniff. She let go and sat down again.

    "You better shower. Your clothes smell awful and your skin is gonna stain soon, too. We don't want to have to call you Harry the Red," said Hermione giggling. How could everyone keep forgetting he was covered from head to toe in gross troll blood? The only answer Harry could come up with is that they were more worried about him than his appearance. It made him feel good that someone cared but he really wished he didn't have to have a constant reminder he recently died. The smell didn't bother his nose anymore, though, and he kinda got used to the color.

    He set off to the nearest bathroom with a shower in it but ran into Malfoy on the way.

    "Don't want me to break that jaw of yours fully off this time, do you?" said Harry threateningly. He took off his bloody cloak and threw at Malfoy's head. Malfoy struggled to get it off as if it were diseased and ran away. Harry continued walking and finally got to the shower stall. Finally, he thought to himself. He smells like dried blood and oiled, slimy flesh. Frankly, that's what he consisted of so the stench was no surprise.

    Harry tossed his cloak into one corner and piled the rest of his clothes on top of it. What a gross sight, he thought, as he turned the water on. The troll blood immediately started to look paler. Harry took his sweet time. His skin was like dirty leeches to the touch for three days straight and it felt good to finally get the stuff off. Water poured over him like a hot spring and it was the most refreshing feeling in months. It was a little more difficult to clean his hair, however and Harry decided to start there.

    His hair had grown while he was dead and the roots were black but the rest was red. He looked at the bottles of shampoo. One named "Extremely Strong Shampoo: Use Only In Emergencies" caught his eye.

    He picked it up and read the back: "Known to bleach hair white but cleans off anything imaginable. Only temporary! Give it about a half hour and the color comes back. Apply and let sit for ten minutes." There was a small clock embedded in the front of the bottle.

    White is better than red, he thought to himself as he massaged it in. The clock started as soon as he put it back down. He let it sit and his scalp started to tingle. Sure enough, drips of red began to fall off and when the clock chimed, the very last drip fell down the drain. He pulled some hair forward to look at it, and it was, unfortunately, white. Harry washed the rest of it out.

    One of the bars of soap had the words "All-Off" engraved in it. He grabbed it and before he could do anything, soap immediately started to crawl up his arm and cover his body all by itself. Harry put the bar back down and the soap immediately started to thicken. Within a few minutes, the spell died out and the soap turned into large bubbles. He wiped it off and the blood came with it just as easy as could possibly be.

    He glanced at the names of conditioners. "Mega-Soft" read one of the bottles. This one didn't have anything weird apparent about it. He opened the bottle, poured some in his hand and rubbed it in his hair. Like a thousand little fans, his untidy, soaked hair started to blow as if there was a strong wind pointed at it. The water in his hair flew everywhere but the magical cream didn't come out. After a minute, it subsided and Harry washed it out. His hair was as soft as puffs of clouds. He checked his hair once more... it was still white. With a sigh, he turned the water off, grabbed a towel and dried himself off.

    He scrubbed his glasses extra hard and finally just conjured new ones because the stain wasn't coming off. Something must have washed his clothes because they were perfectly clean when he went to look at them. Harry put a robe on, snatched his clothes and walked back to the Gryffindor commons, clean as a whistle.

    When he returned, Hermione's jaw nearly dropped.

    "Wow," she gasped, "they must have some strong stuff in the shower."

    "You have no idea. I just touched a bar of soap and it covered me by itself. The shampoo I used took dripped the stains out of my hair and the conditioner, well, see for yourself." He walked over to her and bent his head down for her to feel.

    "Wow, what did you use? I have to try that."

    "Mega-Soft. It feels really weird." Ron stepped over. "Oh, by the way, something cleaned my clothes for me," said Harry showing her them.

    "I forgot about that," Hermione said. "I don't think anyone knows what it is except the professors but it does a very good job!"

    "Probably a house-elf," snickered Ron. Hermione wasn't pleased. In their fourth year, Hermione started a house-elf welfare program. It didn't go over well with the elves either and she later abandoned it.

    "I'm gonna get changed, wait for me," Harry told then.

    Hermione and Ron took a seat. Harry walked up to his bed. He didn't have any other pairs of clothes with him. He didn't really expect to be spending time at Hogwarts so naturally the only choice was to put on the freshly cleaned ones. Hermione and Ron must have had time to go back and pack some extra. He changed -- the robe mysteriously disappearing when he put it down, presumably back to the bathroom -- and walked back out.

    Hermione and Ron stood up.

    "We better get going," Harry said gloomily. "Before we do, can I just ask Dumbledore something?"

    "If we can find him, sure," said Ron.

    As usual, Dumbledore found them first. He was standing just outside the Fat Lady.

    "I think I know just what's going on with you, Harry." Harry looked up at him eagerly. "When you first Apparated here with your relatives, the Avada Kedavra you attempted was real but Professor McGonagall didn't hear or see you attempt it. Voldemort fled after you finished it. It bounced off a wall right back at you and it's been effecting you ever since. Why it didn't kill you is another mystery I would rather not find the answer to. The dark magic is clearly a sign of something troubling you."

    Harry had walked back inside and sat down during this talk.

    "The visions are Voldemort's doing but I see why his bad mind is able to penetrate your good mind," Dumbledore went on. "There is no doubt your mind is good. The answer goes back to when his abilities were transferred to you that night."

    "But, what about my -- I mean... Malfoy --"

    "Relax. He has no part in this. I got him to confess with a Truth Potion that he simply wants to be around if anything bad happens to you. I sent a Howler to Mr. Malfoy right on home with Draco." Dumbledore said in a whisper, "By the screaming going on in their kitchen right now, I think they opened it." Harry couldn't help but smile. Dumbledore continued normally, "Chances are they don't care to hear from me but a normal copy of that letter went to the Ministry of Magic," he said with a grin to all three of them.

    "And my mum and dad?" said Ron quivering. Dumbledore looked worried. He thought for a moment before speaking.

    "I have not had contact with them since early this morning." Ron looked up and tried to speak but Dumbledore interrupted him. "But that does not mean the worst has happened. Many times foresight can fail if an adept mind is close by or the target is unconscious. I have had on and off contact since Harry -- and truthfully it has been more off than on."

    "We better get going now," said Hermione.

    Harry started to feel very good about the situation. Sure, they were going to face Voldemort again but Harry had confidence in Dumbledore's words. They started to walk. Before they took three steps... Harry's hands began to glitter as if his skin was maded h gold. No one that was standing there would be looking anywhere else.