The Other Side

Chapter 2 – Conversation

     Harry was jolted from his sleep by the sudden burning of his scar.  He forced himself out of bed, realizing the urgency of the matter.  Grabbing out a quill and some parchment, he started to write, his quill flying across the surface quickly.  But as he was writing the letter to Sirius, Harry found it quite strange that there was no dream this time – only a pain-filled scream.  Shuddering at his own memory of the Cruciatus Curse, he continued to write furiously.

~*~

(Two Months later – October)

     "Why won’t you just join me?  It hurts me to see you like this," the cloaked figure said softly.

     "Stop it!  You enjoy this, and we both know it!  If you really cared…then LET ME GO!" the woman bellowed angrily, straining at the end of her chains.  She was covered in shadow, making it hard to see who it was.

    "Always presuming," the figure spat, shooting a curse at the woman.  She screamed in rage, in pain, in agony…

      Harry opened his eyes and stared at the clock.  It was only three in the morning.  Cursing softly at his bad luck, he forced himself out of bed, knowing fully that he would not be able to sleep longer.  His nightmares had gotten worse with each day that passed since he had first suffered through them two weeks before school had started.  Some days, he would wake up with a scream ringing in his ears, or he would catch a glimpse of a woman crumpled against a wall, or voices similar to that of torture but it was always the same woman.  Though he was worried about the dreams and for the unknown woman, he still had no idea what, or who, they were about.

      "I don’t want to worry anyone right now; they all have more important things to worry about besides some pointless dream that I keep getting.  Besides, what would Malfoy and his pathetic gang of Slytherins think?" he muttered to himself as he descended the staircase to the Gryffindor common room.  Harry’s decision had been made: he would not tell anyone about the dreams until he knew more.

     "Harry!  I didn’t expect you to be up this early?  Did you finally decide to take your studies seriously this year?" someone asked from behind him.  Harry turned around and had to stifle a laugh when he saw Hermione, bounding down the stairs with an armload of books.

     "You don’t actually study at this time in the morning, do you?" Harry asked incredulously.  Although Hermione was a notorious bookworm, even she wouldn’t be up at three in the morning studying…right?  Hermione shook her head, and he sighed with relief.  "So what are you doing up this early then?"

     "I’m looking through some books.  There’s a question that’s been nagging me for ages now, and since I couldn’t sleep…" Hermione trailed off as she set the books down on a nearby table before facing Harry and continuing, "What are you doing up so early?"

     "I…um…couldn’t sleep either," he lied.  At least it wasn’t far from the truth.  Hermione seemed to notice this, but chose to not comment on this.

     "Well, since you’re up, would you like to study with me?" she asked helpfully.  Harry nodded, grateful for any diversion at the moment, and they settled down to study.

     "Harry, have you gone bloody insane?" Ron exclaimed when he heard of the early morning studying.

     "I couldn’t sleep, and I figured I might as well, since Hermione was there.  I did get help on that one essay for History of Magic, so it wasn’t a complete waste of time," Harry said, rolling his eyes.  He had to admit the idea of him studying before the sun rose was fairly ludicrous.  The dream, at least, had not harassed him there.

     "Just don’t turn him into another you, okay?" Ron muttered to Hermione.

     "RON!" Hermione yelled furiously.  For the next couple minutes, Ron ran around the suits of armor in the hallway in an effort to evade her.

     "Running around the halls?  Dear me, I do believe that would twenty points off each, and another ten points from Gryffindor for Potter not doing anything to stop this inappropriate behavior," a voice said silkily behind the group.  Harry whirled to find a triumphant Snape before them.  Ron and Hermione stopped in their tracks, glaring at Snape.  With a swish, Snape disappeared down the hallway.  Harry noticed their Potions professor appeared to have lost much sleep, but judging by his friends’ anger, he didn’t suppose they would care at the moment and left it at that.

     "I can’t believe Snape did that!" Ron fumed, stomping down the hallway in the direction of the Transfiguration classroom, which happened to be their next class.

     "I wonder how Dumbledore teaches," Hermione looked thoughtful as they traipsed into class not a moment too soon.

     "Welcome back!  I will be your Transfiguration professor this year, as Professor McGonagall is on sabbatical.  This year will most likely be one of the most important years in your young lives.  Can anyone tell me why?  Ah, yes, Mr. Finnigan?" Dumbledore asked leisurely.

   "You-Know-Who rose again!" Seamus exclaimed.  The class burst into laughter.

     "Very true, Mr. Finnigan, although I would ask you to call him Voldemort-", and here everyone flinched, "-next time.  Anyone know the academic reason?  I do believe Professor McGonagall stressed the importance of these last year…" Dumbledore said, with a twinkle in his eye.  Hermione’s hand shot up.  "Miss Granger?"

     "The O.W.L.s, or Ordinary Wizarding Levels, are this year," Hermione said calmly.

     "That’s correct, Miss Granger.  Five points for Gryffindor.  Now, as we have examinations coming up in spring, it is necessary that we start right now!  So, as review, let us see how well you can transfigure a toad into a rabbit!  Come up and get your toads after you are paired up," Dumbledore said, striding to the corner to retrieve the toads.

     The class was, for the most part, surprising.  There was something about Dumbledore when he taught that just made the subject click instantly to the point that it even allowed a usually-nervous Neville to transfigure his toad correctly the first time.  Dumbledore, obviously, had been so impressed that he had a little demonstration at the end of class of some of the things they themselves would learn by the end of the year.

     "Wow, that was amazing!" Ron exclaimed, returning his toad to the cage at the end of class.

     "I didn’t know you could do that," Harry replied, thinking of the controlled partial transfigurations and how the Headmaster had changed the rabbit’s ears to antlers, the fluffy tail to that of a dog’s, and the color of the rabbit to an interesting shade of blue.

     "If you two bothered to do any reading over the summer, you could have found it in Chapter Twenty-three of the book," Hermione said, bustling past them.  Ron followed her out of the classroom, but Harry paused for a moment, wondering if he should tell Dumbledore of his rapidly worsening dreams.

     "Harry?" Ron asked, poking his head through the doorway.

     "Coming," Harry said, glancing once more at the Headmaster before leaving.

     His mind was spinning as he stared at the empty cauldron blankly.  His lack of sleep had been taking its toll lately as he struggled to focus on the chalkboard that seemed miles away.

     "A pinch of the powder, remember!  Now get to work," Snape snapped disdainfully, although with less scorn than usual.  Harry pondered the possible reasons for a moment before he was rudely jabbed in the ribs by Ron.

     "Harry?  You okay?" Ron whispered, handing Harry some putrid-smelling root to shred.  Harry swallowed slowly and held his breath as he picked apart the root with distaste, trying hard to suppress the bile rising in his throat.

     "Fine," Harry said lightly, clenching his teeth at the rapidly spinning room.  His hands shook as he dumped the root into the cauldron before slipping away from the conscious world.

     A figure lay crumpled against the wall in what appeared to be an empty holding cell.  She was chattering her teeth; her breath was coming out in short huffs.  Tangled hair covered her face neatly, hair that had been streaked with blood, dirt, and tears.  The torn remnants of a nightgown were all that covered her dangerously thin body.  She looked so frail that she might break if someone touched her.

    "So cold," she whispered through blue-tinged lips.  The cold was indeed almost unbearable, stinging fiercely all over, particularly on a certain jagged area on the forehead.

     A strong light suddenly shone into the dark cell and Harry turned, squinting, to meet the figure at the doorway.  His eyes widened when the figure moved in, revealing none other than Lucius Malfoy.  Harry jumped and stumbled back at a fit of coughing from behind as the elder Malfoy strode to the figure.

    "Worthless scum.  You’re lucky Voldemort has plans for you, or else I would have gone even further.  As it is, I can only play with you, woman," Malfoy said distastefully.  A low hissing noise could be heard from the figure.  Malfoy laughed sardonically, sending a chill down Harry’s spine…

     Dim moonlight poured into the darkened room from the large inlaid window.  Nauseated, Harry forced himself up and grabbed his glasses from a side table.  The image his eyes beheld sharpened; he could make out the familiar red and gold decorations in the dorm room.  Sounds of snoring could be heard from adjoining beds.  Harry sighed, the memory of the disastrous Potions lesson coming back to him in a rush.  In front of Malfoy, of all things!  Harry was about to die from embarrassment when twelve tolls of the bell from the grandfather clock below told him the time.  His first thought was to head back to sleep.  Regardless of how much the dreams taunted him, he had managed to obtain some much-needed sleep between fainting in the dungeons and the latest vision.  His stomach growled noisily.  When had he last eaten?" Breakfast seemed so far away.  Drowsy, Harry gradually fell back into a troubled slumber. 

     There was screaming.  A woman was twitching on the ground, surrounded by robed figures.  Voldemort stood in the center, yelling "Crucio!"  And then, there was a flash.

     It was the same woman, but her robes were torn and bloody, her wrists loosely bound to the wall with manacles.  A crimson-stained whip lay nearby, before the room flashed again.

    A frail figure, covered in shadow, lay limp across the floor.  A heaving cough shook her body violently as a robed figure entered the room.  A foot nudged the body upon the floor before delivering a swift kick into her stomach, sending the weak woman into another coughing fit, but this time there was the familiar crimson shade of blood.  There was another flash of light…

     …And Harry found himself staring into haunted gray eyes.

     "Pro…Professor McGonagall?" Harry whispered.  A weak smile flashed across the weary teacher’s face.

     "I trust you are doing well in school?" she asked hoarsely.  Harry nodded numbly, quickly looking around him before going back to Professor McGonagall.  It was a prison cell, damp and cold.  His professor didn’t look any better, with her torn and filthy nightgown and the cuts and bruises that he could see upon her face and hands.  Her hair was down from its usual bun, falling in a tangled mess down her back.  In short, she looked horrible.

     "Are…are you okay, Professor?" he asked shakily.  There was a pause.

     "For the moment," she said, shuddering as if an invisible threat lay above her before her face cleared, looking like the Transfiguration teacher Harry remembered.

     Harry nodded, still thinking of the flashes he had seen before.  It was obvious that McGonagall was the woman in all of the dreams he had seen, but a question rested on his mind.  Out of curiosity, he asked, "Why did they do all that other stuff besides the Cruciatus Curse?  Don’t they usually use only that while…torturing?"

     "Harry, they don’t just want to torture me.  They want to use me on their side as a ‘pawn’.  They believe I will be an asset to their side.  Right now, they’re trying to weaken me in any way they can, in the hopes that eventually I will be too weak to fight back, so that they can twist me into whatever they need.  I can’t resist them much longer because…well, because I guess you can say they know my weakness.  Or perhaps more accurately, he always thought he…well, you understand, right?" she asked before descending into another coughing fit.  Harry nodded mutely when she had finished coughing.

     "I have some messages to pass on," she started.  Harry nodded and she continued, "Tell whoever has taken over my class that in my bottom right-hand drawer, behind all the books, is my lesson plan for the year.  Now, don’t start, Potter.  Yes, I plan my lessons for the year during the summer.  Tell Professor Lupin I send my congratulations for getting the job again.  Tell Professor Dumbledore to tell the Order that I cannot hold out much longer, and that I’m sorry I disappointed him.  And lastly, should anyone, including you, see me outside of this wretched place, tell them to kill me immediately," she said quietly, closing her eyes for a brief moment. 

    "I will not kill you," Harry said adamantly.  Minerva looked surprised and annoyed.

    "Harry, you must kill me.  Heaven forbid that I accidentally kill you – I don’t want to face that.  Please."

     "Professor, if you can tell me where you are, then we could get you out and you wouldn’t have to kill yourself," he said, taking a step back.

     "By the time you reach me, it will be too late!  You will have to kill me then!" Minerva said urgently.

     "Just tell me, Professor McGonagall!  We’ll get here in time and we can forget it all…" Harry said.  There was so much hope in his eyes.  It broke her heart to see that trust in her…especially when she no longer trusted herself.

     "Please, Harry, don’t push me on this," she murmured wearily.

     "Professor-" Harry started to protest.

     "Do what I say, Potter!" she demanded forcefully.  Harry shook his head mutely.

     Minerva’s eyes glinted strangely as she stood and strode in front of Harry, reaching out and grasping his face forcefully.  Harry’s eyes widened in shock as he tried to step back, but she was surprisingly strong despite her condition.  "Why don’t I put it this way?  Don’t do as I say, and one day you’ll wake up to find the Gryffindor common room freshly painted in your friends’ blood!  Would you like that?  It seems that you do, the selfish brute that you are," she hissed coldly.  He stared into her face, surprised at her sudden change in behavior; it frightened him even more to see the madness and the cruel ruthlessness in her eyes, across her face.

     "Professor McGonagall?" Harry asked shakily.  Minerva blinked and then gasped when she realized what she had done.  Releasing him hastily, she backed up against the wall, trembling.

"Oh God, oh God, what did I do…I’m sorry, forgive me, forgive me…leave, Harry, before I do something else…please…" she whispered.  Harry nodded mutely before he found the room spinning into darkness.

     "Harry!  Wake up, Harry!" 

    It was Ron’s voice.  Harry’s eyes flew open.  Around him stood Ron and Hermione, looking extremely worried.

     "What’s wrong?  You wouldn’t wake up after we yelled at you, shook you a bit, poked you, said that your broom had been stolen – " Hermione started.

     "MY BROOM IS WHAT!?!?!" Harry yelled, leaping out of bed in alarm.  It was all Hermione and Ron could do to keep him from running out to the broom shed in his pajamas.

     "Hold your horses!  It isn’t actually stolen, although it worked wonders in trying to get you out of bed," Ron muttered as Harry sat down on his bed again.

     "I had a weird dream, only it wasn’t really a dream…" Harry started to tell them about how he saw the flashes and then the conversation with McGonagall, careful to leave off the end.  The trio sat in silence for a while after that.

     "We need to tell Dumbledore and pass on the message," Hermione said worriedly, breaking the silence. Ron and Harry nodded and after quickly changing into their school robes, they headed to Dumbledore’s office.