Chapter 59: Lemon Drops
Disclaimer:
Harry Potter and all of its characters belong to J.K. Rowling.
I own nothing but the original characters I make.
"Dialogue"
'Thoughts'
-Author notes-
Chapter 59: Lemon Drops
He was underwater.
Cold, black water pressed against his skin, and he could not breathe. His lungs burned, and his limbs felt heavy, weighed down by chains that wrapped around his ankles and wrists.
He tried to kick, to swim, to reach the surface...but the chains held him fast.
And then he saw her.
A girl with dark hair and sharp eyes floated just beyond his reach.
She was wearing a Hogwarts uniform, and her face was pale white, her lips parted as if she was trying to speak. Her hand reached out to him, her fingers brushing against his.
"Harry…"
Her voice was faint, barely a whisper, carried by the water.
"Dont forget about me...Harry, please. Remember who I am...my name is..."
He tried to reach for her, to grab her hand, but the chains pulled him back.
The water grew colder, darker, and the girl began to fade, her form dissolving into shadow.
"Don't forget me…"
Then the green light came.
It burst from the darkness, filling the water with a sickly green glow.
Harry screamed, but no sound came out. The chains tightened, and the girl's face twisted in pain.
"Ahhh!" Harry woke up screaming, his heart pounding, and his sheets soaked with sweat.
"A dream..." He looked around his bedroom. He was still alone, in the dark.
"It was just a dream."
After taking a few minutes to compose himself, he sat up, and his hand reached instinctively under his pillow.
The note from yesterday was still there. He pulled it out, unfolded it, and read the words again as the pale light of dawn began filtering through the window.
"You are being manipulated. Everything is a lie. The professors are not your allies. Dumbledore is not your friend."
"Do not eat the lemon candy."
"A Secret Ally."
Harry's heart pounded as he read the words for what felt like the hundredth time.
He had barely slept, his mind churning with questions.
Who was the girl in his dream? Why did she feel so familiar? And why did the green light fill him with such dread?
He folded the note carefully and tucked it back under his pillow. Harry didn't know why he kept it...perhaps it was to remind himself that he was not imagining things.
Then he sat up, swung his legs out of bed, and stared at the wall opposite him.
'Why do I feel like I've lost something important?'
He had made a decision.
'Today,' he thought. 'Today, during the meeting with the Headmaster, I will not eat the candy. Today, I will watch and listen to him closely...if he is trying to manipulate me with magic, then maybe...I will notice something.'
He dressed quickly and left the bedroom.
<><><>
Classes went by in a blur that day. Harry took notes, answered questions, and kept his head down, but he could not focus on the subjects; his mind was somewhere else.
He avoided Hermione's gaze, afraid that she might see something in his eyes, something that would give him away.
But when the evening came, he could delay no longer.
He climbed the spiral staircase to Dumbledore's office, his heart pounding in his chest.
The stone gargoyle stepped aside at the password "Sherbet Lemon". And the stairs carried him upward.
The familiar oak door loomed before him. Harry raised his hand to knock.
"Come in, Harry," Dumbledore's voice called from within.
Harry pushed open the door and stepped inside.
The smell of lemon and old parchment hung in the air, while Dumbledore sat behind his massive claw-footed desk, his white beard flowing down his chest, and his pristine white robes that seemed to shimmer with a light of their own.
He smiled as Harry entered, his blue eyes twinkling under his half-moon glasses.
"Ah, Harry. Welcome back. Please, sit." He gestured to the familiar wooden chair opposite him.
"Yes, Sir." As soon as Harry looked into the Headmaster's eyes, he immediately felt something unpleasant that made him look away.
'What was that?' He was confused, as he didn't recall this happening on previous visits.
Could it be because he was being overly paranoid after Ginny's comments and that note?.
"I trust you are settling into Ravenclaw?" The Headmaster either didn't notice his discomfort or pretended not to.
Harry sat down with his hands clasped in his lap. "Yes, sir. I'm getting used to it." He was mostly getting used to being alone.
"Excellent. I am glad to hear it." Dumbledore reached into a small bowl on his desk and pulled out a lemon drop. "You seem...nervous, Harry. Why dont you take one? It will help you relax."
Harry's heart raced. 'This is it...'
He reached out and took the lemon drop, his fingers brushing against the sugary treat.
"Thank you, sir," Harry said, his voice steady. "I'll eat it later if you dont mind. I ate too much during lunch."
Dumbledore's eyes flickered, just for a moment, with something cold and calculating. His smile did not waver, but Harry caught it. The mask slipping, just for a second.
"Of course, my boy," Dumbledore said, his voice warm. "Take your time. There is no rush. But make sure to eat it later tonight, when you are in your room...it will help you sleep. I only want what's best for you. I hope you understand that."
"Yes, sir." Harry tucked the lemon drop into his robe pocket, where it sat against his thigh. 'I won't eat it... I won't.'
The session began.
Dumbledore asked about Harry's week, his classes, his studies. Harry gave careful, vague answers, avoiding any mention of Ginny, the note, or his growing suspicions.
"And your scar, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, his voice soft. "Does it trouble you?"
Harry touched his forehead instinctively. Dumbledore always asked about his scar. "No, sir. It feels fine."
"Good. That is good." Dumbledore's eyes bore into him, searching, probing. "Any strange dreams recently?"
That was another question the Headmaster always asked.
Harry didn't find it odd...until now.
Why is he so focused on his scar and what he is dreaming about?.
He thought of the black-haired girl from last night's nightmare, the one whose face he kept seeing. But he said nothing. "No, sir. Nothing out of the ordinary."
Dumbledore nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. "That is good to hear. The trauma you experienced last year was significant. So we must monitor your recovery closely. So if you ever experience something strange, dont hesitate to come see me, even outside of our scheduled meetings."
"Thank you, Sir." Harry nodded, his face blank.
'The fire, the incident on the third-floor corridor.' That incident was the reason for his memory loss. Or at least, that is what he had been told.
But...is that true?. The note suggested otherwise.
The session continued for another forty minutes. Dumbledore asked about Harry's friends, his hobbies, his thoughts on the future.
Harry answered with careful neutrality, giving nothing away.
And all the while, the lemon drop sat in his pocket, as a silent reminder of his defiance.
When the session finally ended, Dumbledore rose from his chair and walked Harry to the door.
"I am proud of you, Harry," he said, his voice warm. "You are making excellent progress. I look forward to our next session."
Harry nodded, his hand brushing against the lemon drop in his pocket. "Thank you, sir. I'll see you next week."
He walked out of the office and down the spiral staircase, his heart pounding.
'I did it,' he thought. 'I didn't eat it. And he didn't notice. Or maybe he did. But he didn't say anything.'
He wasn't sure if that was a victory or a warning.
<><><>
Soon after, Harry found Hermione in the library, hunched over a book, her quill moving across the parchment.
She looked up as he approached, her expression neutral. "How was the session?"
"It went fine," Harry said, sitting down across from her. "Just the usual questions."
Hermione nodded and returned to her book. But Harry noticed she seemed distracted. Her eyes kept drifting to the window, and her quill had stopped moving.
"Hermione," Harry said, his voice gentle. "Are you alright?"
Hermione looked up, her eyes guarded. "I'm fine. Why do you ask?"
Harry hesitated. He didn't want to push her, but he had seen something in her face, a flicker of emotion that she rarely showed. And this reminded him of another occasion when he had seen her do something similar.
It was that day when he found Hermione staring at an old picture.
"It's just...I thought you looked somewhat sad and I was wondering...the other day I saw you holding a picture with an older couple on it. Were they your parents, perhaps?"
Did she still remember her parents?. He had assumed that Muggleborn children had their memories wiped before being brought to the orphanage, but he had the feeling that Hermione still had some memories from that time.
Hermione's jaw tightened. Her eyes narrowed, and for a moment, Harry saw something flash across her face...irritation, perhaps, or defensiveness.
"That is none of your concern, Potter," she said, her voice sharp. "You should focus on your own studies instead of prying into my personal affairs."
Harry blinked, taken aback by the sudden anger. It was an emotion she had never shown before. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"
"You didn't mean to what?" Hermione's voice was still sharp, but there was something else beneath it. "You don't know anything about me. You don't know what I've been through. So don't pretend to care."
She turned back to her book, her shoulders rigid. Her quill began to move again, scratching across the parchment with renewed intensity.
Harry sat in silence, his mind racing. He had never seen Hermione react like that before. She was always so controlled, so emotionless. But that brief flash of anger had revealed a crack in her mask.
'There's something left there,' he thought. 'Something she's afraid to show.'
Whatever the Ministry had put her through, it seemed to have failed to completely remove Hermione's personality. There was still something there.
He didn't push further. He knew he wouldn't get more from her tonight.
But he had seen a glimpse of the person underneath, and that was enough.
"Sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to pry into your affairs."
Hermione did not respond. Her quill continued to move, her eyes fixed on the page.
"I'll leave you alone." He thought it was better to give her some space, so Harry gathered his things and left the library, the silence heavy behind him.
<><><>
Back in his room, Harry took the lemon drop out of his pocket and studied it.
It looked innocent enough...a small, yellow, sugary candy. But it felt heavy in his hand for some reason.
Unfortunately, had no way to test if this little candy had anything unpleasant added to it. So he could only speculate.
However, if this candy was the cause of his changes, then by not taking it, Harry should start to feel something different soon enough.
'Dumbledore seemed very insistent that I ate it before going to sleep.' He recalled.
He needed to be careful about this.
Harry knelt beside his bed and felt along the floorboards. His fingers found a loose one near the wall. It was a small gap where he could hide things.
He pried it up carefully, revealing a small hollow space beneath.
He placed the lemon drop inside, wrapped in a piece of parchment, and added the note from the library. Then he replaced the floorboard, pressing it down firmly.
'It should be safe enough under there,' he thought.
Harry then climbed into bed and lay on his back, staring at the canopy above him.
He thought about the black-haired girl in his dream. He thought about Hermione's photograph. He thought about Draco and Crabbe, the friends he had pushed away.
'I will find a way,' he promised himself. 'I will find a way to remember. I will find a way to break free.'
He closed his eyes.
Sleep came slowly, but it came.
And when it did, the black-haired girl did not appear.
But the green light did.
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