A/N: I'm sooooo excited! Star Wars! Harry Potter! Graduation! No more AP exams!
Sad to say, I'm not going to continue this after the next book comes out. My image of the next book will be totally altered, as will many fans'. So to continue fanfictioning after I read the next book for me would just be silly. Fanart will take the upper hand for a few months, and I'll start writing another story. If I hurt anyone's feelings by doing this (which I'm almost a hundred percent sure that I won't) I will give you hug and write you your own chapter.
Chapter Nine: Dumbledore's Concerns
Perhaps it was coincidence that Harry was always being watched at Grimmauld place as much as he was at the Dursley's. Questioning gazes and looks of disdain were fastened to his face, yet at the same time it was obvious that he had not spoken in days. Remus was concerned; little did he know that this was really how Harry was by nature. "I think he's depressed," he explained one night to Dumbledore, when he thought Harry wasn't listening, "He stays locked in his room all day, trying to sleep, and at night he just roams the halls."
"Do you think he should see a psychologist?"
"Maybe he's just sad about Sirius… but I really don't know what I should do. He doesn't speak at all. He just stares at the wall… thinking… I'm scared for him…"
Harry eaves dropped from the hall, his mind distorting what they said, there voices echoing in his brain. His vision was fuzzy, even though his glasses were sparkling clean. The coldness was closing in, his arms shivered. He clutched the railing for support, bent over it like he was going to vomit. A gentle hand grabbed his shoulder. Snape's voice whispered somewhere behind him, "Are you alright?"
"I think I'm going to be sick."
He wheeled Harry around, practically carrying him to his bed. "I think I might have influenza," Harry whimpered, as he lay in his bed.
"You don't have a fever," Severus concurred, after testing the temperature of his forehead. "You're just tired. When was the last time you've slept?"
"A few hours, yesterday…"
"Your body's exhausted. How long did you plan on not sleeping, Potter?"
"I don't… I can't sleep, I've tried to but…" His eyelids pressed together in pain. Snape didn't understand, his chest constricted and he breathed heavily, "When I sleep, I only have nightmares and I wake up and hour later."
"How about I give you a potion?"
A whimper from underneath the covers told him to do so. He retreated down the stairs in servitude to fetch the sleeping draught. With a nimble foot he stumbled across the conversation of the werewolf and Dumbledore. "Perhaps its chronic depression," Remus insisted in a whisper.
"Headmaster," Snape's deep voice interfered. He bowed his head in apology, and began an formal report, "I do not believe Potter is depressed. Even a few days ago he was happy as a clam, bothering me about why I drink coffee instead of tea. He is just quiet by nature, and I don't believe that is unusual. However, I must register my concern for the boy. He has not been able to sleep for some time; this has caused him physical pain. I think he has been having nightmares that wake him in the middle of the night, and he cannot go back to sleep. This may be symptoms of insomnia, but I have noticed that these nightmares occur at the same time either the Dark Lord, or Kai have been conducting raids. I request permission to administer a sleeping draught for the boy."
"Permission granted, for the time being," Dumbledore nodded, though Remus looked mutinous. "Just give him a light dosage, Severus."
"Thank you, sir." He swept from the room.
"Who is Kai?" Remus asked.
"It's just another name for the prince of Kai, Abram Katsuo Helgate. He has gained much interest in the dark arts for the past few years…"
"Is Kai a place?" Dumbledore chuckled to himself, leaving the blushing werewolf to question, "I'm sorry, I just assumed it was a place since you said he was the prince of Kai… what is Kai exactly? Is it a rock, for heaven's sake?"
"I don't laugh at you, Remus, I laugh because I forget that it is one of the most well kept secret that the Ministry of Magic has left… Kai is not a place. But unless this information is endangering your life or sanity I cannot tell you what Kai is or who is its master. To do so would be treason." He fell into a frown, "All I can tell you is that Kai himself is a fifteen year old twin, and that he has been causing more trouble that Voldemort for us in the past few years. I do wonder what why Harry dreams at the same time of his raids, though. I'm quite concerned..."
"How can no one at the Order know about him if he's been more trouble than Voldemort?"
"It's a muggle problem that we are not entitled to handle, and that's all I can say."
Meanwhile, Snape was peering over Harry with worry, who had just drunk his sleeping potion and was drifting off silently. After a few silent minutes, the potions master bit his lip and began to walk away, wondering if the potion would help. In the back of his mind he wondered why a most gentle kid would have to go through so much pain. He was almost all the way down the stairs when he heard a cry…
The boy who lived was watching
As the bones were gathered at the altar,
A madman his age smiled as he saw
The pleasant gifts they brought
In honor of Kai, they had been slain because of their resistance.
Shouting erupted from Harry's mouth, though still asleep. The three men entered the room almost instantly. The language he was screaming was unknown to them, and the boy was writhing in his bed, like a burning bird…
He thanked them and was happy,
When the new ones bowed in front of him
Welcome to my palace, he said
Inside of a rotten old church
The red liquid in his cup was not wine. His eyes were mad…
"HARRY! HARRY!" Snape slapped his face until Harry regained consciousness.