The Quill

Chapter Three

The following morning passed in a rush. It was the first of september and they were going back to Hogwarts. Harry didn't want to go there, all and everything in the castle would remind him of the previous year, which had been so terrible for him. He also dreaded the fresh rumours that he was sure had spread over the holidays about their nocturnal flight to London and that he had again escaped from Voldemort. Every head would turn around to him and they would whisper behind his back...

As he, Ron and Hermione mounted the train, they had to fight their way to an empty compartment. Hermione grabbed Harry's arm and dragged him behind her.

"Ow!" he cried as she touched his wounds through his sleeve. "Let go, Hermione!"

She turned around and frowned. "What's the matter with your arm? I didn't squeeze very hard, I'm sure."

"Er... yes, you did," Harry said. "Come on now, Ron's ahead," he added, dragging his trunk past Hermione, who was still frowning after him.

In the compartment Harry sat in a corner next to the window. Rain was splattering against the glass, reflecting his mood. Ron and Hermione sat down, too, exchanging a worried look.

"Harry..." Hermione began. "We know how you're feeling, we miss Sirius, too! Of course he was your godfather and all that, but I think you should cheer up a bit."

"Oh yeah?" Harry turned away from the window. "Did you also fall for Voldemorts stinking trick though you should have known better, and is somebody dead because of your ignorance?"

"Harry! It's not your fault! You told us what Dumbledore said, that he should have told you that V-Voldemort might try to lure you to the Department of Mysteries! You didn't know, you've done nothing wrong!"

"Yes, I did, I took Kreacher seriously, I didn't call for Sirius, and I didn't use the magic mirror he gave me in case I ever needed him. If I'd only thought! It would've been so easy not to make this horrible fucking mistake!" Harry was on his feet now, shouting at Hermione, who was backing away. But then he felt tears rise in his throat, and he turned away, flinging himself in the seat again and stared blinkingly out of the rain-streaked window.

"Oh Harry..." Hermione whispered, sitting next to him and putting her arm around his shoulders. When she tightened her grip, Harry winced. "What's up?" she asked, letting him go. She looked down at his arm, which he had seized instinctively with his right hand. "Harry! Please tell me you didn't do what I think you did!" she cried, sounding horrorstruck.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Harry said in a high-pitched voice.

Ron, who had sat awkwardly on the opposite seat, got up with wide eyes and crouched on the ground before Harry. "No, Harry, no, you can't have..." he said in a terrified whisper.

"Let me alone," Harry croaked, tears now running down his cheeks. He tried to mop his eyes with the sleeve of his cloak, but Hermione seized his arm gently and pulled back the material. Harry turned his face away from them and closed his eyes. He heard two gasps, then Hermione burst into tears.

"Harry, no!" she sobbed. "Just because I said you have sort of a saving-people-thing, you carve it right into your arm! Oh Harry, if I'd known..."

Ron seemed to have gone speechless. He had got up from the ground and sunken into his seat. He was ashen-faced. Hermione had her face in her hands, crying helplessly.

Harry covered his wounds again. He didn't know what to do or say, so he stared at his shoes.

After a while, Ron croaked: "How... how did you do it?"

Harry gulped. "Remember last year, when Umbridge made me write - those very special lines? I discovered a quill just like hers in Knockturn Alley. Something drew me to buy it..."

Hermione looked up with puffy red eyes. "So you did it - yesterday?" she whispered. "When we were still at dinner?"

Harry nodded. Ron looked as though he was going to be sick.

The remaining time until they reached Hogsmeade Station they didn't talk anymore. When the witch with the food-trolley arrived, nobody of them felt like eating.

As they finally filed into the Great Hall, Ron moaned with hunger and Hermione had her hand pressed against her stomach to stop it from rumbling. Harry hadn't eaten properly for several days now, so his stomach had become used to getting no food and Harry didn't feel hungry anymore.

After the feast (Harry had only eaten a bit of bread) they wanted to go up to their dormitories, because they all felt exhausted. Just before they reached the door, Harry felt a strong hand on his shoulder. He turned around. It was Dumbledore, who looked at him over his half-moon glasses.

"Harry. I'd like a quick word, if you don't mind - up in my office."

Harry felt uncomfortable. He cast a nervous glance at Ron and Hermione, who shrugged, then he followed the Headmaster.

When they entered the office, Harry saw a tiny Fawkes sitting in his cage. He had obviously just risen from the ashes and he had only a few short red feathers.

"Hello, Fawkes," Harry said as he went passed by.

Dumbledore went around his desk, but instead of sitting down he pulled his chair to the front and sat on it. "Please sit down," he said to Harry, indicating the other chair. Harry sat.

"Did you have a good holiday?" Dumbledore asked in a fatherly tone.

"Er..." said Harry. He had spent his holidays mourning Sirius, bathing in self-accusations and finally cutting himself. How much of this could he tell Dumbledore without making him think he was having a mental break-down?

Dumbledore looked at him searchingly. "Well?" he asked finally. "Is there anything you want to tell me?"

Harry felt himself blushing. He just couldn't tell him how much he hated himself, and what he had done as a result...

Dumbledore leaned forward and placed his hand very gently on Harry's arm. "Harry - you'd better not keep those scars."

Harry stared. "How... how do you know...?" he spluttered.

"I have my ways of knowing," he said, smiling wisely at him. "I don't usually approve healing scars, but this time... You know what I said about the scar on your forehead, that Voldemort transferred some of his powers to you, and that there is an emotional connection between you and him?"

Harry nodded, wondering what Dumbledore was playing at.

"By doing this to yourself," he continued, "you have carved your own pain into your skin, so there is a connection between you and yourself. Every time you feel pain in future, your scars will hurt and cause you even more pain. It's a cycle of pain. You would never be able to feel cheerful again. So would you mind if I heal your wounds?"

Harry sat there, not knowing what to say. As if he could ever be cheerful again, knowing that his godfather was dead because of him! The scars would remind him of Sirius, and never, never doing a mistake like this again, so in a way he wanted to keep them. But on the other hand, what Dumbledore was saying sounded awful...

"Stretch out your arm," Dumbledore said calmly.

Harry hesitated. He looked up to the crinkled, kind face of his Headmaster and into those astonishingly blue eyes, which looked so sad. Then he lifted his arm to him and pulled back his sleeve. The words were still furiously red and clearly readable. I must not act the hero.

Dumbledore took Harry's arm and sighed. "Oh Harry. I wish I could do something to make you feel better. I already told you that it was mainly my mistake, but I can't force you to see it this way. It will take time. But to make it possible, I have to heal your wounds." He took his wand and tapped Harry's arm very gently. The words became fainter, the stinging subsided. After a few seconds, his skin was as smooth and undamaged as it had ever been.

"Thank you," Harry muttered as he covered his arm again.

"Please, Harry - promise that you won't do it again, will you?" Dumbledore looked at him and his eyes seemed to be shimmering strangely.

"Yes. I promise," Harry said after a moment. It would be hard not to do it again. But Sirius wouldn't have liked it when his godson destroyed himself in grief... He looked at Dumbledore again and saw him smiling.

When he left the Headmaster's office, he wondered if Dumbledore could read thoughts.

*****

The End