Harry Potter : In the shadow of divinity28.57%

Chapter - 24 : Reflections and Revelations part - 2

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(P).(A).(T).(R).(E).(O).(N)

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Harry didn't know how long he remained unconscious; it could have been minutes, hours, days, maybe even weeks, he had no way of knowing. All he knew was that waking up after being knocked unconscious by an evil entity that may or may not have been the murderer of his mother and stepfather was not at all like how it was in the movies. There was no slow waking up to find himself surrounded by loved ones, only a sudden jolt back to awareness complete with heavy bouts of dizziness and nausea and no company but that of the stern school nurse and the creepy headmaster.

Groaning, Harry leaned back against his pillow in hopes of getting the world to stop spinning and coaxing his stomach from where it was wedged in his throat.

"What happened?" he rasped after several minutes spent recovering.

"You had quite the run in, it seems, with Professor Quirrell and the spirit of Lord Voldemort."

Harry felt his body tense. "I killed him," he whispered.

"I and all of the proper officials can assure you that it was in self-defense. Quirrell had cast the Cruciatus on you, it was perfectly justifiable."

"No it wasn't." Harry snapped. "He was being possessed by Voldemort-"

"No, he was carrying Voldemort's soul." Dumbledore corrected. "He was not being possessed. Quirrell's actions were his own."

"Possessed or not, I still killed him. He was a human being and I took his life."

"My dear boy-"

Harry cut the Headmaster off before he could irritate him further with his meaningless attempts at comfort. "What was Quirrell after?"

Dumbledore looked surprised. "You did not know?"

"If I did, would I be asking?" Harry knew he was being disrespectful to his headmaster, but he could hardly bring himself to care.

"No, I suppose you wouldn't. As you already know, Professor Quirrell was hosting the soul of Voldemort in his own body; in an attempt to regain a mortal form and, in turn, immortality, he ordered Quirrell to retrieve the Sorcerer's Stone, an object created by the famous alchemist Nicholas Flamel, the stone has the ability to-"

"Turn normal metals into precious metals and give the drinker of its elixir immortality. Yeah, I've heard of it. What happened to the stone?"

"The Flamel's and I have made a few new arrangements in order to ensure the stone's absolute safety," Dumbledore said vaguely.

Harry nodded. "Voldemort's going to try a different way to come back."

"I daresay he is." Dumbledore agreed. "Do you think he will succeed?"

"I think it's less a matter of if he will succeed, and more of a when. And when he does, will we be ready?"

Not long after his, in Harry's opinion, rather profound question, Dumbledore left the hospital wing with a deeply contemplative expression marring his wrinkled face. But his presence was soon replaced with the much more welcome ones of his friends, all of whom piled into the hospital wing only moments after his departure and crowded around his bed.

"Oh, I'm so glad you're all right, Harry," Hermione cried pulling him into a rib crushing hug. "When Dumbledore told us what happened we were so worried, especially when he wouldn't let us come and see you right away."

"Well there's no need to worry anymore." Harry assured. "I'm good as new."

"Are you sure? Nothing hurts? You're not dizzy or nauseous? Maybe I should get Madam Pomfrey, just to be sure-"

"He's obviously speaking the truth, Granger. So quit your harping as it's getting quite bothersome," Draco turned a critical eye on Harry. "But you still need to be more careful," the blonde scolded, "and learn to mind your step, you could have been seriously hurt."

Harry's brow furrowed. "Mind-mind my step?" he repeated. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Do you not remember what happened?" Blaise asked worriedly.

"I…" Harry trailed off as he recalled the events of the previous night. Had he forgotten something?

"You fell down the stairs and hit your head," Neville explained. "The Bloody Baron found you and told the professors."

I didn't fall down the stairs!" Harry cried.

"But Dumbledore said-"

"Dumbledore lied. I went back to the Cerberus."

"Of course you did!" Draco cried. "What are you a witless Gryffindor?"

"Watch it, Malfoy," Ron warned.

"Shut it, Weasley. What in Merlin's name possessed you to go back there?"

"I was curious, the Cerberus was guarding something and I wanted to see what. I was just going to take a quick peek."

"But…?" Blaise prompted.

Sighing, Harry recounted his experience, detailing all of the tasks, what he had to do to get past them, and what happened after he did. He watched as their faces morphed from admiration, to shock upon finding out about Quirrell, to horror when he explained the horrible curse the professor had put him under.

"The Cruciatus." Neville whispered. "That's what he put you under." The boy looked sick. "Using it, or any of its sister spells, the Imperius or the Killing Curse, will land you in Azkaban for life."

"And it'd be nothing more than the miserable bastard deserves" Ron said furiously. "Where is he anyway? Have the Aurors already carted him away?"

"He's dead."

The room fell silent as everyone turned to look at Harry who suddenly held an intense fascination with his hands.

"Dead?" Hermione repeated. "How?"

"I killed him," Harry's voice shook lightly. "The curse was horrible, it hurt so bad I could barely even breathe, but somehow I got hold of my wand, and I shot the first spell I could think at him. The severing charm hit him right in the neck. He-he died while I sat there and did nothing."

"Oh, Harry, it was self-defense," Hermione tried to comfort him. "He was torturing you, it wasn't your fault."

"He was being influenced by Voldemort." At his friends' horrified and confused looks, Harry elaborated further, explaining the man's death and his final words in detail, as well as the event that had led to his ending up in the infirmary.

"So Voldemort's not dead," Ron said tonelessly.

"No, and he's going to get a body eventually, and when he does he's going to come after me. So I…I'd understand if you guys don't want anything to do with me. Being my friend will only put you in danger."

"Are you mad?" the redhead cried. "You're my friend, Harry, and no crazy dark wizard is going to change that. Besides, it's not me you should be worried about."

All eyes turned to Draco who puffed up in offense. "What, you think because my father was a Death Eater I'll become one as well?" He glared at Harry. "Well you're wrong, all of you. When I shook your hand on the train, Potter, I made my choice. Whatever happens, whether it be crazy groundskeepers with a soft spot for dragons, or megalomaniacal dark lords who have you on the top of their kill lists, I'm with you. And no amount of whining is going to change that. So…so you might as well suck it up and get used to it, because I'm here to stay."

Harry stared at the blonde in awe, and even Ron gaze just might have held a hint of respect. "Thank you, Draco, you don't know how much that means to me."

"He's not the only one," Blaise said. "I don't plan on giving you up anytime, Harry."

"Me neither," Neville said.

"Nor I," Hermione added.

As his friends declared their intentions of sticking by his side come hell or high water, Harry felt the tight knot in his chest ease just a bit. He wasn't all right, not by a long shot, but just being in the company of his friends assured him that, in time, he would be.