Cleaved whole
“Take your time Harry, sit up slowly and let us talk when you’re ready”. This time as Harry got his senses back, the soreness across his body was undeniable. “Ah, professor, it feels as if I’ve been beaten all over.” Dumbledore helped him up slowly, sitting him in the cot before speaking. “Yes Harry, there are many entities that inhabit both your body and spirit. I am not fully certain what the significance of their presence is, but I am certain that they are the cause of the strain upon you.” He pulled out the phial he’d collected earlier; the silvery liquid now appeared more like an emulsion of water and oil, the color gone. His eyes squinted in frustrated examination “I’m sorry my boy, I thought I would have more to present, but it seems I have more to ponder upon. I find myself grossly underprepared for the challenges I’ve uncovered. I will need you to permit me to discuss these strange findings with a couple of your professors to get an expanded perspective.” Harry thought about who he’d consult with his questions. “Sir, you can talk to the other professors but please not Quirrell, I feel like he fits in a role contempt to my existence.” The headmaster smiled warmly and said he would keep the matter in the greatest of secrecy. Before he left, he told Harry it was early enough he could still make it to his potions class on time.
Harry hobbled as quickly as his body would permit him. The cooler air of the dungeons was a welcome relief to his warm core. The corridor was thankfully empty. His presence felt less corporeal than the ghosts that inhabited the castle, and he couldn’t stand being seen in this moment. He narrowly stepped through the door before it closed behind him, leaving him breathless as he took the only available chair near the back. The loud scratching of chair legs echoed within the classroom, Professor Snape looked at him coldly before beginning his lecture on materials and techniques for brewing higher quality potions. Harry slumped over his desk, unable to find the strength to even hold his quill. “Blimey mate, are you alright?” He barely registered the question before responding. “Yeah, I’m alright, just knackered is all.” He turned to look at the student next to him. The boy was quite pale, and his red hair accentuated that fact. “You’re Wimbley, right?” Harry asked. The boy’s face contorted into an emotion somewhere between amusement and offense. “Er, no, I’m Ron Weasley. I feel sorry for the poor sap whose mum names him Wimbley though.”
Intersecting Paths
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
Daphne, Neville, and Hermione caught up to Harry after the class let out “How’re you doing Harry? Nobody knows what happened to you when you blacked out in DADA class.” They all looked at him with worry and curiosity. “I’m alright, the headmaster visited and treated me himself. Say’s he’s gonna investigate into what might be making me feel ill.” A new voice interjected before they could probe him further “Professor Dumbledore treated you in the hospital ward?” The group turned towards the source of the question. There stood Ron. Daphne looked between them all while Hermoine stared at him with quizzing intensity. “A bit mental he’d go out of his way for you isn’ it?” Hermoine gave a disapproving tut “and who are you!?” Ron turned a light shade of red before answering “I’m Ron Weasley, met him in potions class but didn’t even catch his name.” Harry remembered he hadn’t gotten a chance to introduce himself as Snape squashed the conversation by taking five points from their houses. “Right, I’m Harry, Harry Potter.” Ron’s face phased between indifference, contemplation, and finally realization. “Harry Potter, like, with the scar Harry Potter?” Harry reflexively lifted his bangs to reveal the lightning bolt scar on his forehead. As he did, the group seemed to be taken aback. “Harry...your scar. It looks...fresh.” He looked towards Neville. “Fresh? What d’you mean fresh?” Neville hesitated, looking at the others to help him. “It looks raw Harry, like when an old cut goes pink for awhile.”
Harry lowered his hand and pressed it to his scar. It stung in a dull, sore way. A flash of Threnody’s face flickered in his mind, then was gone. “Are you alright Harry, should we take you back to the medical ward?” Harry shook his head. “No. If I spend any longer there Madame Pomfrey‘ll have to be my permanent instructor for the year.” Harry started forward, not wanting to be under his friend's examination any longer. “We’ll figure it out later, we still have herbology lessons today.” Neville’s face perked up a little at the mention of the class but caught Ron studying him and quickly turned away. Herbology passed slowly, but the cataloguing and care techniques in cultivating herbs was a welcome kind of boredom. Professor sprout spoke cheerfully as she displayed pruning shears and explained how the right tools make all the difference dealing with blights and pests. “Can anyone tell me about what tools would be useful in keeping the whomping willow healthy and alive?” The class looked around at each other, some mumbled quietly, while others shrugged completely lost. Hermoine looked like she was absolutely racking her mind for some kind of answer. Professor Sprout laughed a long and mirthful laugh. “Oh my dears, it’s fine, I don’t expect you all to know, because even I don’t. The willow hasn’t been tended to since the 16th century.” After that, they spent the remainder of the lesson practicing on bonsai trees transfigured from rocks until the bell rang.
