Chapter 60: The Truth Hidden Beneath
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 60: The Truth Hidden Beneath
The dream came without warning, pulling him down into darkness.
The dream came again, pulling Harry down into darkness.
He was lying on a cold, hard floor. His arms and legs were bound by invisible ropes, and he could not move or speak. His mouth was sealed shut, and no sound escaped his lips.
The only thing he could do was...watch.
He was inside a small house. A familiar house, though he could not remember why it felt that way from the moment he saw it.
The living room was cluttered with furniture, and there were people on the couches...three of them, lying still and with their eyes closed as if they were sleeping.
There was a large man, a middle-aged woman with long dark hair and a thin frame, and finally, there was a boy, almost as large as his father.
They seemed to be either unconscious or sleeping, but Harry somehow knew this was far from a natural thing and magic had been involved in their current state.
And there were others in the room. Tall figures in dark robes, their faces looking cold and devoid of mercy.
Harry recognised one of them. Remus Lupin, the Auror who had escorted him from the station to...home?.
It was strange; he suddenly remembered meeting this man. The one who drove the same car that Mister Black had used, but again...he had not known this person until he saw his face, and then, everything came back to him.
The man stood near the couch, with his wand raised; his eyes looked empty and lifeless as he stared at the family on the couch.
Beside him stood Alastor Moody, his magical eye spinning wildly, his wooden leg thumping against the floor.
There was another individual dressed like them, but this one was lying on the cold floor, in between them, just like Harry was.
But he somehow knew that this man was already dead.
And finally, in the centre of the room, wearing a set of dark crimson robes, stood Albus Dumbledore.
The moment Harry saw the Headmaster standing there and noticed the look on his face, he was sure that something terrible was about to happen.
Harry tried to scream, to move, to do anything...but he was frozen, trapped, and helpless.
"Burn it down," Dumbledore said, his voice cold and calm. "Burn everything. Make it look like an accident."
"As you wish..." Remus Lupin raised his wand, and green flames erupted from its tip, spreading across the room, licking at the walls, the furniture, the couches... everything, including the people.
Harry watched in horror as the flames reached the sleeping figures. The man, the woman, the boy...they did not stir. They did not wake up. They were simply... being burned alive.
Harry tried to scream, but no sound came out.
Dumbledore knelt beside him, his blue eyes cold and empty. He waved his wand over Harry's forehead, checking something, and seemed pleased with what he found.
"Still intact," he murmured. "Perfect."
He pointed his wand at Harry's forehead.
"Well then, let's try this again, shall we?... Obliviate."
Darkness swallowed him, and the last thing Harry saw was the green flames reaching for the family on the couches.
Harry woke with a strangled gasp, his body drenched in sweat, his heart pounding against his ribs.
He sat up, his hands shaking, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
The room was dark, the only light filtering through the gap in the curtains. He was in his bed, in his room, in Ravenclaw Tower.
But the images from the dream were engraved into his mind.
The house. The sleeping family. The green flames. Dumbledore's cold eyes. The word "Obliviate."
'They were real,' Harry thought. 'Those people were real. That house was real. I've been there before.'
He pressed his hands to his face, trying to calm his breathing. His mind was racing, fragments of memories slipping through his fingers like water.
'Who were they?' he wondered. 'Why were they in that house? Why did Dumbledore order them to be burned?'
The answers were just out of reach, hidden behind the fog that still clouded his mind. But one thing was becoming clear: the story he had been told about the fire on the third floor was a lie.
'The green flames,' he realised. 'The green flames are the same ones from my nightmares. But they did not come from me...it was those people. The ones who were following Dumbledore's orders.
He didn't know who the sleeping family was. He didn't know why they mattered so much to him. But he knew, with a certainty that settled deep in his bones, that Dumbledore had been lying to him from the beginning.
And he knew he had to find out the truth.
Harry took a long, cold shower, trying to wash away the lingering dread.
He dressed slowly, his movement feeling mechanical as his mind was somewhere else.
He met Hermione in the common room, and as usual, they walked to class together. Harry was silent the whole way.
Hermione seemed to sense his distraction, but she said nothing about it.
'She's just watching me,' Harry thought. 'She's always watching me.'
But for once, he didn't care. He had more important things to worry about.
Potions class was held in the familiar dungeon classroom, with the green glow of the torches casting eerie shadows on the stone walls, and the smell of dried herbs.
Harry sat at a table with Hermione, as he always did.
She was already laying out her ingredients, her movements so precise and efficient that he barely had to do anything during these classes. And Professor Snape didn't seem to care, as long as the assignment was completed.
Harry pretended to focus on his own work, but his eyes kept drifting to the table next to them.
Daphne Greengrass sat with her best friend, Tracey Davis...her blonde hair fell in waves around her face. Her amber eyes were fixed on her cauldron, but Harry noticed her gaze flickering towards him occasionally.
'She's watching me too,' he thought. 'But not like Hermione. She's worried about me.' He could feel it.
He remembered Daphne from his first year...vaguely, distantly, like a photograph seen through frosted glass. She had been kind to him, he recalled. She had helped him with Potions. She had been his friend.
There were flashes of something else happening...but he could only recall water...cold water.
Something had happened there. Something he could not recall yet.
But one thing was for sure. He had pushed her away too, just like he had pushed away Draco and Crabbe.
And now his mind was clear enough to realize the mistake he had made.
'I need to fix this,' he thought. 'I need to make things right. But I can't just speak to her in the middle of class, much less with Hermione watching my every move.'
However, Harry knew that he would soon have his chance.
Potion-making requires a lot of concentration during the brewing part, and soon enough, Hermione's attention became fixed on following the complex instructions.
This was the opportunity he had been waiting for.
Harry reached for a piece of parchment, the one containing the ingredients list he had been given, and turned it over.
On the blank side, he quickly scrawled a note, folded it into a small, tight square, and waited for the right moment.
When Hermione turned to measure a precise amount of powdered moonstone, Harry reached over and slid the note onto Daphne's table, hiding it beneath her ingredients list.
Daphne glanced down, her eyes widening slightly. She looked up at Harry, her expression questioning.
Harry whispered, his voice barely audible: "Read it later. Then give it to Draco."
Daphne nodded, her face carefully blank. She tucked the note into her robes and returned to her potion as if nothing had happened.
Harry let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding.
'Now I wait,' he thought. 'And hope they will give a chance to explain.'
The rest of the classes passed in a blur. Harry went through the motions, read the books, and followed the instructions he was given.
But inside, he was churning with anticipation and fear.
'What if they don't come?' he wondered. 'What if I've pushed them away for good?'
He wouldn't blame them if they didn't. He had been cold, dismissive, cruel to them.
He had told them he didn't want to see them anymore. He had let Dumbledore convince him they were a bad influence.
But now he knew the truth. Now he knew he had been manipulated, controlled, used.
And he needed them.
He needed his friends.
<><><>
After dinner, Harry made his way to the seventh floor, to the meeting place he had written in the note.
If his friends were willing to give him another chance, they would come.
He took the long route to get here, so he could avoid most of the painting. He wasn't sure why, but their stare always made him uncomfortable.
Technically, he wasn't breaking any rules. Students were allowed to wander the castle after dinner, for as long as they avoided the few forbidden parts and were back in their common room before curfew.
But Harry was sure that the Headmaster would not be happy if he knew he was trying to meet his old friends, so they must keep this a secret.
After a long walk, he arrived at the large painting of the dancing troll.
This is where the entrance of the Room of Requirements was located. This was the place he had chosen to meet with them.
It was a strange feeling because he knew there was a secret room here, and he knew he had been in there many times before, but the specific details about those events were eluding him.
He never questioned this before, but such a selective loss of memory was extremely unnatural and was certainly deliberate.
"Obliviate"
That was the last word he heard Dumbledore mention in this dream. He was not familiar with that spell, but he could guess what effect it had.
Harry stopped before the painting and waited while looking around.
Minutes passed...ten...then twenty.
Harry began to lose hope. 'They're not coming. They don't trust me. They don't care about me anymore.'
But then, he heard footsteps getting closer.
For a short moment, he became worried it was one of the professors, or someone from the Inquisitor Squad, or maybe even Hermione, who came to check what he was doing.
But then he saw them.
Draco was walking at the front, with Crabbe next to him, and he could also see the thin figure of Daphne right behind them.
'They came!' Harry could not help but smile.
A.N: - Remember to comment, vote, and/or leave a review if you have the time. Those things help me a lot and I would really appreciate it.
You can support me on P@treon if you like and get 10 advanced chapters. You can also find character images to view for free in Collections/Harry Potter: Mirror Images
-.com/Kriogenix
For donations and commissions, go to .com/kriogenix