XVII - The Red Line

463 17 40
                                    


"Don't be afraid of pressure. Pressure is what transforms a lump of coal into a diamond."
-Nicky Gumbel
-

Just a quick one, the song 'Glue' by Bicep goes very well with this chapter. :))

-

"This is nice." Ron said as he twirled Hermione's hair in between his fingers.

"It is, isn't it?" She agreed, reading her book on Ron's lap.

He hummed with a satisfied sigh. "I was such a plonker to Harry before, and that costed us our whole friendship." He spoke.

"You were, darling. You were." She said softly, annoyed that she is being disturbed from ready her book.

"Hermione," a familiar voice whispered.

"Did you hear that, Ron?" She questioned.

Ron furrowed his eyebrows, "hear what?"

"Hermione!" The voice said louder.

"That!" She said, concerned slightly.

"Yeah, I heard it that time. Who's there?" Ron asked the thin air, clutching his wand from his pocket.

"You wankers." The voice spat playfully, "it's Harry."

Hermione's eyes widened, "Harry? You can't be here!"

He sighed and exposed his foot from the invisibility cloak, "says who? Come with me."

Both of them followed the hasty foot to the boy's dormitory.

"Harry, we can't be here! What if Dean, Seamus, and Neville come back?" Ron stressed.

"Doubt it, bet they are at dinner or something." Harry said, yanking the cloak off of his thin body.

"What are you doing here, anyway?" Ron asked.

But before Harry could answer, Hermione gasped. "Harry! Your eye, what's wrong with it?"

Harry sighed gravely, "it's from that curse Draco hit me with when we duelled in Defence. 'Malonia', it was called."

"Oh, of course. Snape told us about that when you were in the hospital wing. It's blue again." Hermione said.

"Yeah. Blue is the main colour, I think. There is still something off about it, though." Harry mentioned.

"Off?" Ron questioned.

Harry nodded, "yeah. It can't be hidden by a glamour charm. I tried this morning."

"Well, that is rather odd, I must say." Hermione spoke.

Harry hummed in agreement. "I am glad you brought that topic up, actually. That's kinda the reason why I am here."

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows, "really? Was it bothering you?"

"In a way, yes. Every now and then, it just tingles and aches, and it is very unnerving." Harry spoke.

"I wouldn't think too much of it, mate. It's probably just the phantom pains." Ron tried.

Harry scoffed lightly, "it can't be!"

Noticing that Harry raised his voice, Hermione used her brain and casted a silencing charm.

"Why not?" Ron asked.

"Because it is a curse made by Lucius-fucking-Malfoy that's used for enemies! And guess what, no one else has been affected by the curse as bad as I have, so no one knows about the after effects." Harry explained, not making eye contact with either of the two.

You'll also like

          

Hermione noticed his behaviour. "That's not the only thing bothering you. Tell us, Harry."

Harry's expression morphed into one of distraught. "My scar, it's stopped hurting like it used to."

Ron and Hermione shared a look. "That would be a good thing, no?" She asked.

"It would be, yeah." He said. Inhaling a large breath of Gryffindor air.

"I'm lost..." Ron spoke.

"I can...I can feel the same pain that was in my scar in my eye. It's like it transferred from scar-to-scar." Harry admitted.

Hermione gasped. "Have you told Snape? Dumbledore?"

"No. I can't tell Dumbledore! I don't want to bother Snape any more than I already have." Harry said, tugging at his hair.

"You can't just not tell someone, Harry! This is serious, you could still be connected to Voldemort!" Hermione stressed.

"You don't think I know that?!" Harry snapped. "You don't think I know I have a megalomaniac in my head that could easily kill me just by looking through my head? My memories?"

Hermione was stripped of all colour in her face, "Harry, I am just trying to help..."

"No! Everyone is 'just trying to help'! What if I don't want help?!" Harry asked, not thinking straight; he seemed to be doing that a lot lately.

"Hermione," Ron said, worryingly tugging at her sleeve. "Harry's eye, it's red."

She began to tremble as Ron's words settled in. It was just like fifth year again. Voldemort had the upper hand, and he didn't even know it.

"T-that's not Harry's anger, Ron. It's His." Hermione spoke slowly.

"Everyone expects too much from me! I am sixteen, for Merlin's sake! I wish I just stayed fucking dead!" Harry screamed in anger.

And as the words left his dry mouth, his body was drained of all colour and he collapsed.

Ron caught him, making sure he didn't hurt Harry any more that he probably was. He gently placed him down.

"Shit, 'Mione! Is he going to have another one of them 'thingys'?" Ron questioned.

"I am going to assume you meant visions," she scolded, "and I don't know!"

"Well, what the fuck do we do then?" Ron asked in distress, "I am not very trained in this situation!"

Hermione checked Harry's heartbeat. It was a little bit faster than it should be, but it wasn't racing—she thought that was a good sign, considering his heartbeat accelerates the speed of light during an episode.

"Ron, go get Professor Snape. He will know what to do!" She spoke, more calm now.

"Snape? The git will tell me to bugger off!" Ron complained.

"Tell him it concerns Harry, he will be here as soon as possible!" She shouted at his idiocy.

Ron didn't bother responding, he just dashed out of the dormitory.

Hermione gripped one of Harry's trembling hands in her own, attempting to soothe not only him, but herself, too. She used her other hand to gently lift his eye lid open.

She examined his eye, the previously blue line was still red. His pupil was dilated enough to completely cover the beautiful, green iris.

She sighed deeply, and began stroking the unconscious boy's hair. Subconsciously, he leaned into the cool hand.

The Boy Who Ought To Be Dead - H.PWhere stories live. Discover now