Shades Of Grey

Letters from No One

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Tuesday, September 10^th, 1996 (Harry! Today is October 29^th!)

Location: Hogwarts

Today was a strange day. Me and Draco have almost finished our reports on the Marmukes. Hermione says it was a stroke of genius on my part, really. And getting compliments from 'Mione is like getting compliments from McGonagall herself. Anyway, Ron and Ginny have good news. Snape and Dumbledore have bypassed our Goblin proposal so we're going into London on the 22nd; it's a Hogsmeade weekend. Funny, since usually we have our first weekend in October, closer to Halloween. Still, not complaining. It'll be nice to get away from the school and out for a trip.

Let's see.....what else? (Harry, are you alright?!?!?!?)

Ron and Ginny are sitting in the corner making notes on what we're going to say to those creatures. Hermione said she'd look over them since Goblins are very cunning. Still, Ron and Ginny were really good at the Order meeting when they had to present. Snape was dead set against it, but somehow, Ginny managed the whole thing in the end. Really, if it wasn't such a serious issue, I'd have been inclined to clap. (Harry, it's me Hermione! PLEASE, if you get this and are reading this, PLEASE tell us you're alright!)

There's a lot more to say but I have to finish a Defense Against the Dark Arts Essay (We've got Professor Lupin back, YES!) I'll log other things later.

(Harry! We're all SO worried! This is an account from your journal! Can you reach us?! Floo us, owl me back, anything! Just let us know you're alright. Send something back with Pig. We miss you Harry.....keep it safe. Awaiting your safe return, Hermione.)

Harry stared in confusion at the letter. There were several things out of the ordinary with it.

1) It was apparently a part of a journal that he had kept, though he had no recollection of it.

2) It was written on Tuesday September 10^th, 1996. How could this be? That was the day of his accident and he was unconscious in the hospital for a week after.

3) He had written it in some non-existent place called 'Hogwarts' (this was crazy; there was no such place!)

4) The contents of the letter itself made no sense whatsoever (like, what was Floo? And what was Hogsmeade?! And what the hell was an Order meeting?!)

5) WHO THE HELL WAS HERMIONE?!?!

6) It was written on a piece of parchment like something out of the eighteenth century.

7) It had been delivered by a small, furry overexcited owl whose name seemed to be- Pig.

At the end of which, Harry came to two very startling conclusions:

1) Either he was hallucinating, and spending way too much of his time alone and watching soaps.

2) Or, this was some weird and mysterious part of his past that had come back to him.

3) But mostly, he thought it must be a prank from someone; he would've believed this stuff to be true if there were such a place as Hogwarts.

He wearily watched the little owl as it zoomed in circles around his room, exploring every piece of something he owned, poking it's beak into everything but never resting in one place long enough for Harry to make out any of it's features.

Bung him some Owl Treats and shut him up!

Harry looked around the room, panic flashing in his bright green eyes. Where had that come from?

He returned to the letter after carefully scanning his room. Owl Treats. Right, because he, Harry, always had owls delivering letters to him; it's a constant affair, he though sarcastically.

The letter had been sent to him on the day of the 29^th. Today, he noted, was the 31^st. So it had taken two days for the owl to deliver it; he supposed it must have come in this morning, just as he left from school as it was already there when he got back home at three. What place was two days away by bird's flight? But then again, he wasn't sure of the efficiency of the owl either.......

Harry rubbed his face tiredly. Why in the Lord's name was he even bothering to consider this- this letter? It was obviously nonsense sent to him as some kind of Halloween joke. And yet...and yet, something inside of him probed him to try and understand what was going on; except the more he tried to comprehend it, the less sense it made. Floo: it could be some kind of telephone or some secret language; Floo us. It was like phone us. Yes, that could be it. And, and Hogwarts could mean......well, it could mean Headquarters. It sounded the same.

But unless Harry was part of some military, Japan-is-going-to-bomb-America-and-only-Will-Smith-can-save-the-world type secret, he didn't see why his correspondent would use code. But then if it wasn't code, it was utter rubbish! None of it made sense.

Harry sighed. He was tired and confused and his head started to ache, what with all the straining. Often times, when he was alone in the house, as he was for hours at a time, he would hold on to his dragon amulet and just stare out the window at nothing in particular. He'd will something, anything to come back to him and he'd end up with a splitting headache and that trapped sensation. Even now, he realized, as he sat here in the darkness, the little owl had finally come to a rest; yet his mind would not do so. He couldn't stop thinking about what this all meant and it was annoying him greatly.

All of a sudden, Harry was filled with unexplainable anger. Some hooligan thought would be funny to send him something like this, just to bungle him all up; but it wasn't funny, Harry thought angrily. He wasn't just a normal boy. He was an amnesiac; did no one understand what that meant?! And how could his parents just leave him like this, all alone in the house for hours at an end and not expect him to go loony?

He was a damn amnesiac! A month ago, he couldn't even remember his bloody name! He couldn't remember his parents or his friends or.....or......

Harry took a deep steadying breath. During the course of these bitter thoughts, he had stood up and was angrily pacing the room, his hands clenched in fists. What was it that Doctor Shapiro had said?

"And how are you feeling today, Harry?" Dr. Shapiro asked with a friendly twinkle in his eye. Harry smiled feebly feeling a lot younger than sixteen.

"Alright, I guess." He had just come out from his week-long coma the day before yesterday and was being released today.

"Good, good............let's just do a quick physical, shall we?" Harry nodded mutely, feeling quite confused, but a lot less than yesterday which was his first waking, conscious day at home. He liked Dr. Shapiro; he was a middle aged man who had a double chin and a balding head with thick glasses and a grayish white beard. His dull blue eyes were always friendly it seemed and with his paunch, Harry was always reminded invariably of Santa Claus.

He was pulled out of his thoughts as cold metal greeted his chest. Dr. Shapiro was checking his heart beat and everything seemed to be fine as he smiled at Harry once more.

Everything was done soon enough, Harry's check-up ending in him being weighed. He was deemed fit and now he sat on the hard leather bed of sorts.

"Well! Do you work out, Harry? You're really developing well along there."

Harry shrugged his broad shoulders carelessly. "I-I don't know, Doctor. I can't remember."

"Of course. I'm sorry. Just, it's good, that's all," he said while smiling apologetically.

Harry's mother quickly came forward. "Is he alright, Doctor?"

Dr. Shapiro turned his attention to Harry's mother. "Yes, Harry will be just fine. If you'll come with me so that I may speak to you privately, my dear......"

"Of course," said Guinevere Potter as she allowed herself to be guided out of the office by the old doctor. Harry tried to look a little less indignant at this; he busied himself with a diagram of Meningitis and how it affected the body. But this was less than engaging so he dared to hop off the table and crept to the door.

It was slightly ajar and he could hear Dr, Shapiro's voice. He didn't dare open the door anymore to see their faces; hearing them would have to be enough.

".........and I do think you should continue with it. I have them in small doses, should you need extra."

"Yes, thank you ever so much Doctor. They say he's quite the personality, but we'll have to see," his mother was saying.

"Gwen, I need you to make sure of something. Harry is an amnesiac; he might have sudden bouts of his memory or his mind will be working over time trying to make sense out of all that surrounds him. He'll be extra tetchy and make a big deal out of nothing. You need to be there when these periodic mood changes or shocks come on. You know what these mean............ "

At this, he heard his mother's tone tighten all of a sudden. "You know of our condition, Doctor. We can't always be with Harry. There are other places we need to be. We have other things to take care of as well."

Harry very much wanted to see his mother's expression; her tone sounded quite severe, almost admonishing.

He head Dr. Shapiro sigh. "Very well. Yes, of course, I understand your predicament completely but if that is the case then I need you to monitor his behavior very carefully. Every evening, in fact. And if something is out of the ordinary-"

He paused and Harry heard the rustle of clothing. He assumed the doctor must be taking something out of his jacket pocket.

"-I'll need you to administer this properly."

He saw a flash of blond hair and thought his mother must be nodding now. "Thank you, Doctor. All of this......" she paused, "it won't go unnoticed."

Harry now sat on his bed, not bothering to turn on the lights, though it was quite dark outside. This whole recollection had calmed him down a bit as if he were internally glad to be able to remember something at the very least. And then, just as quickly as the calm feeling had come about, it vanished again leaving questions in its wake that Harry was so very familiar with.

What did it all mean?

It seemed to him to be ages ago that he was in that office and his delicate brain was swimming with those very questions. He hadn't given it a second thought though and now, he realized, they were much more important. Much more than that stupid letter anyways, he decided savagely.

Perhaps these were one of the mood swings the doctor had been talking about that wasn't letting him think with an open mind. Harry didn't really like the way it sounded it his head: Mood swings. It made him sound as though he were PMS-ing or something, really.

He got off his bed and strode over to the little owl that was nipping around in his desk, in immediate danger of getting lost in his homework. Harry was feeling quite snappish towards it as well, but he picked up the little owl and put him safely in a little hamster cage (he must've owned one at some point or another). It hooted, which was more of a shrill whistle really, and started exploring the cage, sinking in the tissue roll shredding and hopping on the exercise wheel.

Harry watched it amusedly. It was so tiny and awkward, a bit like the owl version of Bambi. It poked at the empty water bottle and dipped its minute beak into the empty red bowl. It tried the exercise wheel and chirped in surprise. Every step the little owl took, the wheel would turn forwards and it tried going faster but all it ended up doing was tripping over itself in a flurry of feathers and squawking shrilly.

Harry laughed and reached in, helping the distressed little owl out of the wheel. He unhitched the water tank and filled it up in his bathroom, removing the opening and pouring the contents into the red bowl. Pig hooted gleefully and started to jab at the water.

"I'll find you something to eat."

Pig hooted shrilly.

"Shut up! If you want to stay here, you'll have to be quiet or Mum'll have kittens!" Harry hissed. He didn't know why he was whispering all of a sudden; it wasn't as if his mother was home, but it seemed to get the message across to the little owl all the same. It blinked dolefully, most unlike its hyperactive nature, as if to nod assent at Harry.

Owls. Not bad little buggers, really......

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Hermione poked a spoon in the nearest tureen of mashed potatoes and took a sip of her pumpkin juice. Opposite her, Ron was eating his way through four delicious courses (and desert) with much enthusiasm, as he traded Quidditch talk with the rest of the Gryffindor boys. Hermione noticed that it was stranger this year, without the Weasley twins, and now that there were only two Weasleys left at Hogwarts, things started to seem a little less like home; after all, she did consider the Weasleys as family, as she knew they reciprocated it.

And Hogwarts seemed even less like the magnificent castle that she had come to love even more, ever since- ever since Harry's disappearance.

Ron, thank god, hadn't noticed Pig's absence and Hermione idly wondered if Pig was OK and whether he had managed to deliver the letter to Harry. Hopefully, her best friend was in some condition to read it.........

"Hermione?"

"Mmm....."

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, Gin, I'm fine thanks."

You seem a bit........odd, lately," the redhead girl commented.

Hermione took another sip of her pumpkin juice in order to stall for an answer. It's not as if I can say "Yes, Ginny, as a matter of fact, I'm wondering whether or not Pig reached Harry with my letter that I wasn't supposed to write but I did anyways and smuggled it right out from under Dumbledore's and Ron's nose." So instead, Hermione used Formula Number Twenty Three.

"Oh, you know......it's that time of month again......"

Ginny smiled and nodded knowingly then returned to her pudding. "Mmm.....as long as you're OK."

Hermione flashed her friend a warm smile. She's ever so sweet. Makes lying to her even more of a bugger than normal......

Her heart was really not into eating so Hermione turned her gaze to Draco seated quietly at the end of the Slytherin table. No one bothered to signify his presence, no one paid heed to him; except for a few second years that Draco had told off viciously for enchanting their forks in a bull fight of sorts. Draco looked up and met her eyes and Hermione grinned at him.

He smirked back at her.

"I did it," she mouthed to him.

Draco, who up until now was poking his fork listlessly at his chicken, sat up in a hurry. He looked to his left and right and Hermione winced at him being so painfully obvious at the whole thing. He seemed to notice her expression however as he lowered himself in his seat and gave a sheepish smile. She shook her head.

"How?" he mouthed back.

Hermione let her eyes slide over to Ron; he was still engaged with Dean and Seamus and Kristin Shannon, a pretty, blond fifth year. Good.

She shook her head again. She grabbed her bag (she had been in the library before this and so she didn't have time to leave her bag at Gryffindor Tower) and dug in for a piece of parchment and a quill. She quickly wrote on it, then took out her wand and whispered a few well chosen words. She had charmed the paper so that only Draco could read what it said; to everyone else, it would seem blank.

Want to go for a walk?

Draco leaned forward, read the note, and then leaned back as though unconcerned. He returned to his chicken and helped himself to a generous slice of lemon meringue pie topped with whipped cream. Plate in hand, he stood up nonchalantly. Nobody at the Slytherin table noticed him leaving and that was the way he liked it best. He's quite the loner, Hermione caught herself thinking.

The platinum blond boy made his way out of the Great Hall doors; everyone was much too befuddled with food and desert and laughter to notice him and so Hermione followed suit, serving herself a large bowl of pudding and leaving the Great Hall.

Draco was waiting for her at the foot of the Entrance Hall stairs and, for a moment, the two walked out of the castle in companionable silence, each digging into their sumptuous desserts. They traversed the thick green lawn of Hogwarts as a crisp October wind made the two draw their robes more securely around them.

"So, how did you manage it?" Draco asked abruptly, not glancing at Hermione.

"It was easy. I-I used the Invisibility Cloak and went to the Owlery. Crookshanks kept watch. He's terribly clever, you know," she added.

"Mmm......" said Draco thickly, "So then what?" His mouth was full of the pie.

"Well, after that it was easy. You know Pig, always ready for a journey. So I sent it off with him."

Draco choked on his pie. "What?" he said his mouth still full. Looking at Hermione's face, he swallowed and ogled at her. "Are you mad? What if Ron notices? Why didn't you use a bloody school owl?!"

"Because," said Hermione curtly, "then Dumbledore would notice and I don't know about you, but I'd much rather deal with Ron than Dumbledore."

Draco huffed a little. "And what about when Harry replies? Then what? Pig'll come back at breakfast with an answer and what're you going to tell Weasley?!"

Hermione looked at him and beamed. "That's what I love about you," she said happily.

"What, that I actually make sense?" he grumbled.

"Well, you believe in me."

".......OK, no Granger, I don't believe in you. I believe in Harry," he said softly.

Hermione fought to keep a smile off her face. It was strange the way the two arch nemeses had created such a strong bond in a matter of one year. Harry was the only one who ever got to see Draco smile and whom Draco ever saved the snide remarks from. He was also the only one Draco ever called by their first name.

"So........how was your day?"

Draco flopped down, having reached Hagrid's empty hut. Hermione sat down beside him. "It was OK, I guess," he replied.

Hermione set down her bowl and toyed with a piece of her hair. "You know, we're still awaiting an answer from those Goblins."

Draco snorted. "I, for one, whole heartedly agree with Snape. But noooo, the Weasleys just had to go ahead. God, and then you people drag me into it."

Hermione smiled at him and he looked down grumpily at the last piece of his pie. She knew that no matter how much he complained about her and Ron and Ginny, that he really liked their company. But, you know, Slytherin image and all.

"How was yours?" he asked abruptly.

"OK. I was actually wishing I could have a tracking device on Pig. You know, just to see where he went."

Draco eyed her. "A what device?"

Hermione sighed impatiently. Draco rolled his eyes. He had come to expect this of her and didn't get so hacked off now at the gesture as he used to. "A tracking device. It's a small little instrument that you can fix onto any moving object and then that device is linked to another screen that can show us where the object is going. It's a Muggle device."

Draco raised his eyebrows as if that explained it all. "Well, if it's Muggle, then it must be rubbish."

"It is not!"

"Then why can't we use it here?" he demanded of the bushy haired Gryffindor.

"Because," said Hermione with an air of maddening superiority, "electricity doesn't work with magic!"

"Well, then, that just proves my point," sneered Draco as he leaned back against the door to savor the last bit of his pie.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You should take Muggle Studies, you know that?"

Draco snorted in contempt (which was quite a feat considering he still had his pie in his mouth) and said nothing else.

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Harry put the finishing touches on his essay for English (discuss the prominence of the title "A Midsummer Night's Dream" within all of the character's situations and support with evidence from text) as the doorbell sounded through the house. He glanced at the ornate clock on his wall and grinned. It was seven o' clock sharp, which meant the person at the door could only be-

"Rhea?!" Harry asked, sounding more shocked than he intended, as he opened the door a minute later.

"Hi," was all she said as she entered. Then, she noticed Harry's unchecked face and her smile faltered a little. "Wait, it's today, isn't it?"

Harry mentally kicked himself, realizing that he hadn't said anything for the past second. "Oh yeah!" he said, a little too enthusiastically, "It's today. I mean, I think it's Halloween today, so we should be fine." Bad, awful, Harry! Are you trying to crack a joke? She's going to run away......

"Cool. So, am I the first one here?"

"Yeah..........you, erm, hungry or something?"

"Starved! Karter's a bitch! She made me clean up for three bloody hours after class! Ugh, I could just-" Rhea made a violent gesture in midair and Harry laughed. He nodded assent; even though it was awkward at first, he loved the way him and Rhea could talk easily about anything. In this way, they carried on about their foul teachers for the next half an hour and when they had finally exhausted all possibilities on how to best eradicate their caretaker, a pleasant silence filled the kitchen.

"Oh, by the way, it's my birthday in a week." Rhea said, her voice filling the large kitchen.

Harry was about to reply, but was cut off as the doorbell rung again. "Sorry, I'll be back."

Rhea sat alone in the kitchen, sipping her Cream Soda until ten more people joined them. She grinned; Harry was looking thunderously at Tristan, who wasn't meeting his eye. Harry shooed everyone tactfully out of the kitchen by saying, "Umm, Lara, why don't you show everyone to the living room?"

Lara rolled her eyes and led everyone out of the kitchens; they were mesmerized by Harry's house, it seemed as they promptly followed her. The moment she left, Harry blew up.

"Who the hell are those people?! I don't even know any of them!" he yelled.

Tristan had a sheepish look on his face as he answered, "Well, I was asking Lara something about, well, you know, about your party and they overheard and they were asking so casually, that I didn't realize........."

"It's not a party Trist......it's just a little get together....it was only supposed to be us watching scary movies all night. Now look what it's turned into."

Tristan looked truly apologetic about Harry's deflated tone. "Well, at least it's just people from Math. At least I've talked to some of them. No damage. Eight extra people is OK, I suppose," he said. A pause and then, "It is just these people that know, right?"

Tristan took one look at Harry and decided that he didn't really feel like the cold, hard truth right now so he stuck to good old white lies. It wasn't anything that wouldn't blow over in - oh, say- a month or two, but right now, he didn't want to get yelled at. Rhea sat watching the two friends with an amused expression on her face.

Tristan pretended to look affronted. "Of course! What do you take me for, mate?"

Harry grinned. "Well, that's fine. Plenty of food to go around too. We'll order something, Mum and Dad won't mind. C'mon, let's go relieve Lara."

"Exactly, mate. It's just a few more people."

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She was alone in the stairwell. She could hear someone coming up and she panicked, though she didn't know why she should and kept climbing. Just as she was turning to the next set of stairs, she caught a flash of dark gray eyes and red hair. 'Anna?' she thought to herself. Curiosity overcame her as she stopped dead in her tracks and glanced back.

With a thrill of terror, she saw that, right before her eyes, lay hundreds of dead babies on the staircase and Anna was sprawled on the floor, her red hair caked with blood and her face full of slashes. She was so scared that she hadn't the strength to yell out. She stood rooted to the floor and just closed her eyes, her fright almost suffocating her. When she opened them again, Anna was wearing nothing and she was going bald and the babies had slashes on their faces now. She closed and opened them again and saw that Anna and the babies were decaying.

And then, out of nowhere-

DING DONG!

Everyone groaned as Harry went to answer the door for the fourth time. He gritted his teeth as he paused the DVD they had been watching and shot Tristan, who was determinedly looking away, his face red, a death glare. A few people had grown into about twenty five people in a matter of an hour. Now, at eight thirty in the night, Harry grudgingly let in a couple of boys; they looked to be in senior year. They clapped his back and introduced themselves. He barely paid attention as he was an expert at flashing fake smiles and lead them to the living room.

Apparently though, they had other plans. One of the boys brought out a boom box from nowhere and the other brought out four packs of beer from beneath his bomber jacket. Upon seeing the domineering seniors and a chance to change the flow of the party, it was predictably the three loudest people that got up and helped set everything up. The rest followed and Harry watched, speechless. Intervening would be no use; somehow, he knew it would get worse.

Pretty soon, it was loud and dark and people were dancing, knocking over spiked Coke as they moved along to the fast-paced music.

Harry groaned as the doorbell rang again. Tristan went and got it before him though, still avoiding Harry's gaze.

"I'm going to kill him!" he yelled, mostly because it was so loud.

"WHAT?" yelled Lara back.

"I SAID, I'M GOING TO KILL TRISTAN!"

"HARRY, I CAN'T HEAR A WORD YOU'RE SAYING!"

"I- SAID- oh, forget it." He waved his hand to show it didn't matter and Lara nodded. Rhea joined them after putting all the DVD's in place.

"Thanks!" said Harry to her, eyeing two girls that had just entered with four guys. They were seniors as well.

"WHAT?"

Harry shook his head and closed his eyes. This was supposed to be an evening with his friends, not an all out party. He opened his eyes in time to see that three guys (from his Science class) were dancing on the piano. Oh fuck.........

As he went to chase them off, he noticed two people making out on his couch and another one behind the plants. Fuck, fuck fuck.

"HEY! What do you think you're doing?!" he yelled, as a couple of the senior guys wrestled each other on the carpet. "NO BLOODSHED!"

They grinned good naturedly up at him and continued on as though they hadn't heard. Harry didn't have time to spare with them though, since a new catastrophe was taking place in the kitchen....................

"-OK?! And, NO, Erin, you can't pole dance on my kitchen table, my Mum'll have a fit." Harry said exasperatedly to the pretty blonde that looked as crestfallen as her onlookers on hearing this.

He had just averted a disaster concerning a can opener and wine glasses in the kitchen and though nothing was damaged, he was covered in a mix of sticky, red Cream Soda and Sprite. As he left the bright kitchen, it took him a moment to adjust to the dimness of the rest of his house. Everything was a disaster; there were people snogging, beer spills on the carpet, people dancing and drinking on the couches, people dancing on the table, people everywhere.

Harry closed his eyes and thought of his parents' faces when they would come in; he didn't know what time they usually came in, but surely it would take months to get that sherry stain of the beige leather rug and a few hours wouldn't be enough to rid the entire mansion of the mess. First of all, he wasn't able to go anywhere with undergoing a Spanish interrogation and now he wouldn't be able to have his friends over either, after this. God, I'm in so much shit......

His eyes still closed, Harry realized, with a sinking heart that his head was hurting again and he was feeling a wave of tiredness wash over him; he would never be able to cart everyone out of his house while feeling like this. He would never be able to go anywhere ever again and it was his own fault for not saying no in the first place. He would be lucky to get off with a lifetime of grounding with his mother's obsession for cleanliness not to mention his breaking the rules.

All around him, the music got louder and Harry felt as though he was standing in the middle of a huge storm, with no way out. The music was blaring, people were yelling, and all around was a flash of colours. Unknowingly, he sank to the floor and with the feeling of anger and despair getting ever stronger, he heard people from far away saying, "HAH! Look at Potter! What is he?! Hey, Harry, is this you in a pumpkin costume?!"

A mental picture of Harry when he was six flashed through his mind; it was Halloween ten years ago and he had been holding his father's hand, wearing a pumpkin costume. He didn't have a scar at that point of time. Anger surged through him; how dare they go through the album? And take out my pictures?!

His head ached stronger than ever, as Harry fell upon his hands, his anger probing him to do something.

More laughter came from whoever was looking at his family's photo albums.

Go away. Just go away, ALL OF YOU! YOU BLOODY, STUPID FUCKED UP ASSES! GO AWAY NOW!! LEAVE AND NEVER COME BACK! GO-AWAY! ALL OF YOU!!!!! LEAVE!!!!!

Leave......

Go away.........

Go......away......go......

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"Lily, take Harry and go! It's Him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off-"

The room was dimly lit and there was a sound of a scuffle, a second of quiet, and then, the sound of a door bursting open. A low hiss filled the room and someone screamed as a rushing sound and vague green light illuminated the room. Then, everything was quiet.

"Not Harry, not Harry, please, not Harry!"

"Stand aside, you silly girl......stand aside, now......"

"Not Harry, please, take me, kill me instead.........Not Harry! Please, have mercy............have mercy......"

There was vehement screaming, someone was begging for their life. And a voice; a high, cold, merciless voice with a laugh that was mirthless to the point of being sickening.

"Harry!"

Someone was shaking him awake.

He snapped open his eyes and saw his mother. His mother? His parents. They had come home.........they had come home......oh shit. Harry's last coherent thought was this as the details of last night poured in and he let fatigue consume him again. He didn't close his eyes however, merely didn't move.

"Harry, darling, you were mumbling in your sleep." Gwen felt her son's head, brushing back his dark hair and grimaced. "And your head's all cold and clammy. I think you're coming down with something."

Harry let out a small sigh. It was Friday and he was extremely tired; he didn't know why but this was an odd sort of feeling. It was as if half his energy had been drained from him, all in one shot.

"I'm phoning your school and telling them you're not coming. And don't you protest your taking a break today. You can hand in whatever is due on Monday." However, a more unneeded statement was never made as the only thing Harry wanted to do was lie here forever. His mother still hadn't mentioned coming home and finding any mess but he was going to stick to the Children's Unwritten Code of Conduct; he wouldn't bring it up if she didn't and he wouldn't say any more than he had to. He supposed she was too worried about his condition to really be much inclined to bring it up but he was sure, as soon as he recovered, he would be spending more time than ever at home. Oh, joy.

This led him to wonder about the dream he had just had. It had been so vivid that he could almost reach out and touch the woman who had been screaming. She was screaming his name. No, not Harry, please, not Harry.........had it been a mere coincidence that it had been his name that she had been calling? He closed his eyes and relived the entire dream in a matter of seconds. An involuntary shiver passed down his spine as he reached the thought of the shrill laugh. In his dream, he had been frantic about the woman; she was, after all, about to die! He couldn't understand why he couldn't see her or help her. But now, as he thought about it, his brain was oddly cool and calm as he realized one solid thing that made everything so much better.

For the first time in a month, he was able to remember one of his dreams.

He was able to recall every detail of his surroundings, his emotions, everything.

His mother broke into his thoughts and came into his room once more. She walked over to him and said, "Why did you sleep in this room, darling? This is the guest room. Did you feel too tired last night to go to your own?"

Harry got to thinking on this and remained silent for a minute; how had he reached the guest bedroom? Why had he not gone to his? And more importantly, why had his parents not found him on the living room floor? For he was sure that was where he had passed out.

In any case, he nodded at her suggestion that he had been too tired to go to his own bedroom as it was upstairs. Until he could answer those questions on his own, it was best not to have anything new come up.

Gwen advised her son to stay in bed while she phoned Dr. Shapiro and Harry was only too happy to oblige. As he watched the retreating figure of his mother, he was visited by an impossible thought: somehow, when he had fainted last night, he had willed everything to be cleaned up. But that, he decided, was stupid; there had to be a logical explanation for it and as soon as Tristan and Lara got home, he would call them and thank them for cleaning up everything. He would call Rhea as well.

As Harry turned on his back, he stared up at his ceiling and started trying to make sense of his dream. Last night had been so draining that, after his long sleep, he felt calm and refreshed. After all, getting incensed at everything wasn't going to help matters much.

Harry was sure that of all the dreams he'd forgotten, he'd never seen this one before. He was certain that even if he had forgotten, having this dream would've made anything else even remotely related to it, come into view. Then obviously, it had been the first time. Reassured with the fact that he could remember things now, Harry took into consideration one more thing. Before this dream had burst in his mind, it seemed that he had been fighting something.

From somewhere down the hall, he heard Pig hooting. Harry didn't know how, but he knew he had to empty his mind and relax. He closed his mind and forced it to see what he was thinking; a dark surrounding. Then, he placed a mental image of himself in a cautious position. His mental self was looking warily around.

His outside mental self noted the soft pitter-patter of rain but his interior mental self disregarded everything but that feeling of prickling at the back of his neck. He was being watched. For an entirety of 10 minutes, Harry did nothing but see himself in his mind's eye. A surreal feeling had come over him; it seemed, he wasn't himself anymore. A part of him wanted to break out of this reverie and regard everything as ridiculous but another part of him, a more domineering part, was keeping his other self as downtrodden as possible. He was aware of everything going on yet he wasn't.

It seemed he had zeroed in on his contradictions once more.

And then, as swiftly as if it were a physical motion, he would've glided, Harry let his entire feeling of self inhabit the image of him in his mind's eye. Now, he could see the blankness, sense the coldness, taste the crispness of his atmosphere.

Harry let himself get accustomed to his surroundings and was barely prepared for the sudden feeling of constriction that seethed through his chest. It spread slowly to all of his limbs, until he was fighting to take breath. Harry felt his right hand clench in a fist as though he was holding something, perhaps brandishing a knife of sorts. He whipped blindly and heard the slight rush of air indicating the knife, or whatever the object was, had sliced through air. He didn't hit anything physical however yet the feeling of restraint continued.

Panic was quickly setting in as Harry lost his calm state. The tight arrangement was going on, and if possible, the feeling had intensified. As he kept whirling around to face his invisible assassin, Harry heard a voice that chilled the very marrow in his bone. He remembered that his dream, this feeling, hadn't included this voice; it hadn't happened before.

" Praetermissum." It commanded.

Harry looked around in a jerky, panicked motion and gazed in horror at his hands; they were being swallowed up by the darkness. He yelled, more in surprise than anything else, but no voice came out as his very self, and all his thoughts were consumed by oblivion.

-Someone screamed.....a rushing sound......

"Harry!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!................"

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