Inside your Mind
Rating: PG-13 (for now)
Warnings: it's SLASH that means m/m love, don't like don't read
Disclaimer: i own nothing, that tribute sadly goes to J.K.Rowling, and am not making money in any way by writing this
A/N.: it actually astounds me how long it has taken for me to finally write a long HP story. i guess i just had my mind set elsewhere... but, hey, i thought 'why not?' and just tried it out. i really hope you like it. please review, because this will be my motvation to continue. the more people review, the quicker i can get myself to write another chapter :D! my mind works in very complicated ways ;)
Harry slowly came back to awareness, fighting to get his hazy brain to cooperate again.
He dared not yet move his head, because he feared that the intense pain this would cause, could find him losing consciousness again. The sick feeling in his stomach didn't help either.
For some time, all of Harry's concentration was focused on waiting for the ache to subside a bit. He felt strange and knew hat something must have changed. What he didn't know was, what the hell actually had happened.
He tried to remember something, but was not able to figure anything remotely interesting out. The last thing he remembered was that he had walked with Ron and Hermione to their next class, which had been Care of Magical Creatures. Vaguely he thought that Malfoy had come into the picture as well, but was not entirely sure.
Harry heard the sound of a door being opened softly and then shut again. Footsteps were heard and finally two whispered voices gave the visitors away.
"I swear to Merlin, if that git did anything serious to Harry, I'm gonna kill him with a rusty Muggle spoon!"
"Ron, please, this doesn't help Harry in the slightest.", Hermione answered softly, "We have to find out what this was all about in the first place."
Harry could clearly imagine the absolute furious face of one Ron Weasely and Hermione Granger's reproachful look.
Trying very hard to gather the strength to move, Harry tried to slowly, very slowly open his eyes. When he discovered that someone had drawn the curtains closed, he was internally grateful. His entire skull hurt enough as it was, anyway. Had he hit his head or something?
Very carefully turning his face an inch to the side, Harry discovered that it might be a little too soon to move at all. His brain felt as if fireworks were exploding inside, but in an entirely bad way.
Having given up on the moving part, he tried to speak instead. It seemed to be the only thing he was able to do at the moment, although his voice did sound a little croaked.
Immediately his vision was filled with the faces of his two best friends, both wearing concerned looks.
"Harry, how are you feeling?", Hermione asked worriedly, "do you want us to get Madame Pomfrey?"
Harry just blinked owlishly, his head still hurting like hell and being very confused indeed. His best friends obviously understood him without words, and just waited for him to regain his senses. At least some of them.
"What happened?", he croaked again, it being the most important issue flying in circles inside his brain.
It dawned on Harry that he had no idea how long he had been out of it.
"We don't know, Harry, and that's what worries me most.", Hermione said, worry lining her face, "What do you remember?"
Straining his aching head as little as possible, Harry though for a moment, only to come to the same conclusion that he came up with right after he had woken up.
"I remember that we were on our way to Care of Magical Creatures and then Malfoy was blocking our way with his cronies. And then…", Harry trailed off as he realised that he actually didn't remember anything more than that, even now that his head had somewhat come to a rest.
Ron's features darkened and one of the angriest scowls Harry had ever seen him make appeared on his face. His best friend looked almost murderous.
"This bloody disgusting fucking git!"
Harry waited for Hermione's indignant exclaim of: 'Ron!' before speaking up again.
"So what does Malfoy have to do with any of it?", he was starting to get impatient.
Why couldn't they just spill it out?
Wordlessly Hermione drew something out of one of her robe-pockets and handed it to Harry. Even more confused, Harry took it and looked at it in bewilderment.
His blood froze as he recognized the small dark book almost immediately. Turning it over with shaky fingers, Harry instantly begged to Merlin that it wasn't what he thought it was.
To his utter shock, he found the one thing he had dreaded. Clearly and unmistakeable silver letters burned into his eyes as he read one name: Tom Marvolo Riddle.
"But-But…", Harry spluttered, his voice leaving him almost instantly again, "I-I destroyed it!"
Ron's look darkened even more as he glared at the small book with utter fury.
"No kidding, mate.", he growled, "It had a bloody hole in it."
Letting his gaze shift to his other best friend, Harry discovered an even deeper frown on the girl's face. He had never seen Hermione this worried. Probably because she had never been this clueless in her life before.
"Obviously Lucius Malfoy fixed it. What I haven't figured out is: why?", Hermione said thoughtfully, "The basilisk is dead and he can't possibly believe that we could fall for the same trick again. There is no way that Tom Riddle would be able to come out of the diary. Besides we haven't even tested if he is still in there."
"I don't think that even Malfoy senior would be powerful enough to recast a spell that You-Know-Who himself had developed.", Ron said doubtfully.
Hermione tipped her chin with her index finger, something she normally did with her quill.
"True, but maybe it wasn't Lucius Malfoy.", she said gravely, "Maybe it was You-Know-Who himself."
Ron paled considerably as if the thought had never occurred to him before.
Harry had been silent, thinking about what his friends had said. Only now did he voice his thoughts.
"I think that Voldemort gives me more credit than that.", Harry said slowly, "As Hermione said before: Why would we fall for the same trick again?"
Ron regained his usual colour back and shrugged, obviously relieved.
"Maybe he was just bluffing.", he said, "Maybe we are getting shaken up over nothing and he wants to use this as an advantage."
"No, definitely not.", Harry said firmly, "That is not the way Voldemort's mind works. He wouldn't go through all this trouble for nothing but a bluff."
"Yeah, maybe, but what's the point then?"
Sometimes Harry was still surprised by the simplicity of Ron's mind. Refraining from shaking his head in the last moment, Harry instead sat up as slow and careful as possible and opened the diary.
"Lend me you quill, Hermione."
Both friends stared at him as if he had grown another head.
"Harry, you can't!", Hermione cried, "This could be dangerous!"
Harry rolled his eyes. He really loved his friends, but sometimes they were just plain tiring.
"That's the way my life is, Herm.", he said exasperatedly, "So please just give me the quill."
Seeing that nothing could steer Harry away from his idea, Hermione reluctantly handed over her quill.
"I'm not agreeing with this.", she huffed.
The green eyes Gryffindor said nothing, just took the quill and discovered that it was one of those which you just had to dip into ink once a week or so.
With a shaky hand, Harry wrote only one word onto the page.
"Hello?", Ron read from his position opposite from Harry, his voice sounding incredulous, "You're writing to You-Know-Who and all you can think of is: 'Hello'?"
Harry felt his cheeks redden slightly and glared at his best friend.
"Shut up, Ron.", he gritted out between clenched teeth, "What the hell was I suppo-"
"Look!", Hermione interrupted their childish argument, pointing at the diary, "Didn't you say that the ink had been sucked in when you had written into it in the past?"
Turning his eyes to the diary in his hands, Harry stared at the page before him. He had said that, as it was what had happened almost three years ago. What made Harry stare, was, that it hadn't happened now.
The 'Hello' he had written was very much still there, looking almost innocent. The ink had dried and it looked no more than it actually was: a written word on a piece of paper.
"I-I don't understand.", Harry said confusedly, "Why would anyone go through all the trouble of fixing it, when it was just a useless little book?"
/Yes, why would they do that?/
Harry nearly had a heart attack, the diary slipping from his hands and falling over the side of the bed, closely followed by the quill.
This voice, it couldn't be!
"Harry?", he heard Hermione ask, "Harry what's wrong?"
Or could it?
Harry felt ridiculous. This was silly.
/Why, I always knew you had brains, Potter./
The shock of the final realisation hit him so hard, that his breathing was cut short. His vision swam as Harry desperately tried to draw some oxygen into his lungs, but failed miserably and dry choking was all he could master. His chest began to hurt and he could feel the darkness that was about to swallow him.
Distantly he heard Hermione and Ron's panicked voices, even felt hands grabbing him, but all this was beyond his field of focus.
/Breathe, you idiot!/, Riddle hissed in his head.
Surprisingly, Riddle's command seemed to snap his panic-attack and finally all the choking brought some air back and he was able to master some ragged breaths before everything went black.