A/N: my smily faces don't show up on I'm irritated and craving diet coke. Who wants to hear a funny story? So I tried to drive for the first time yesterday. My dad took me driving in the city (bad idea). I got 2 and a half blocks and then I got the accelerator and the break confused and accidentally hit a pole. Yeah, go me.

The ironic part is that I crashed on the way to test drive a new car. Eeeeeeek.

So that's the most exciting thing that happened to me recently.

Anywho, here's a new chapter in which Harry re-encounters his teachers, decides to find a new dealer, and has a medical condition—time to call doctor House!


The first day of classes started when Harry joined Ron and Hermione for breakfast. The redhead and the brunette bickered as usual and Harry pretended to think it was endearing. If they wanted to fuck they should just do it already. But Harry kept his opinion to himself. Harry didn't eat at breakfast, he had some heroin before breakfast instead.

He spent some time talking to Lavender, unfortunately they didn't have any classes together, but they agreed to meet up after dinner. Harry was just hoping they'd have sex. The idea of talking to her anymore bordered on revolting. "Hey, Ron, what do we have first?"

"Transfiguration," The redhead yawned, "I heard it's really hard this year."

Harry shrugged, "Can't be as bad as divination—wait, are we still required to take Transfig?"

Ron nodded.

"Fuck." The dark haired teen sighed.

Transfiguration was as boring as Harry hoped it wouldn't be. McGonagall lectured them on how they were getting older and needed to control their magic better. She also warned them about Voldemort. She might have well as shut off all the lights, held a flashlight under her chin and made scary faces. She wasn't trying to warn them, she was just telling ghost stories—trying to frighten them so badly that they didn't bother to stand up and fight.

Harry surveyed the room with cool, bored eyes. His classmates were smart enough, they could fight back, anyone could. He'd tried to make them fight back last year, that hadn't work well at all. It only re-enforced Harry's decision that from now on, things were better done on his own.

But McGonagall's lecture had reminded him of something he'd almost forgotten, Voldemort. The dark lord hadn't bothered him much over the summer, in fact Harry could barely remember his scar ever hurting—probably because he was too high to notice. But still, it had been a nice break. Harry almost groaned, he remembered why he hated Hogwarts. Here, he had to be the fucking savior of the wizarding world. Couldn't they find someone better qualified then a drug-addicted sixteen year old?

"Mr. Potter can you tell me how one would turn a wand into a sword?"

Harry looked up to find her tartan-hatted majesty stopped before his desk. "No." The teen said in a bored voice.

"But I just told you how."

"I wasn't paying attention," Harry shrugged, "Sorry, professor."

Mcgonagall scowled, "Stay after class, Potter."

The teen almost sighed, more time with Mcgonagall, great. But at least he'd be late for his next class. Luckily the class passed quickly after that, per usual Hermione was the only one who understood the theory behind the morphing spell and managed to turn her wand into a small sword, well more like a knife.

"Have fun," Ron snickered.

Harry grinned and jokingly flipped the redhead off. Then he went to the front of the room. "Morning, professor."

"You really should start paying more attention in class, Potter, you never know when you might need a weapon." She sighed in a worried, lilting voice.

"I know professor, you're right, I should pay more attention." Harry sighed, he was lying of course, just indulging her so she'd shut up faster. "What did you need to talk to me about?"

"Has your scar been bothering you?"

The teen obediently shook his head, "No professor, I haven't noticed a thing."

"No dreams?"




"Any pain at all?"

"Nothing, professor, I've been doing fine." Harry insisted, "Is that all you wanted to ask?"

"No, Potter. Professor Dumbledore needs to speak to you as soon as possible. I've excused you from your next class so you can see him." McGonagall said.

"What does he want to talk to me about?"


Of course, no one ever just wanted to say hi. "Of course, Professor. I'll go visit him immediately."

"The password is gumdrops." McGonagall told him in a tired voice. Harry turned to walk towards the door when her voice made him turn, "Our world has become… dangerous, Harry. I think Dumbledore expects too much of you. I know the prophecy, but you can't face Lord Voldemort. The only reason you aren't dead, Potter, is because you are a very, very lucky young man."

"Well what do you propose I do, Professor? Apparently I'm the one he marked as his equal." Harry scowled.

"I want you to take extra lessons. Professor Snape is willing to teach you dueling spells."

Harry almost screamed, instead he took a deep breath and said, "Professor Snape and I don't see eye to eye, and I don't think a few dueling spells are going to make me anymore qualified to kill the dark lord."

McGonagall sighed, "I know," She sounded so damn sad that Harry actually felt for her. "But it would make me and a few other members of the order feel better."

"Remus?" Harry asked.

The professor hesitated, "He's made his opinion very clear."

"And what was that?"

She sighed, "A sixteen year old should not be expected to fight the dark lord. He's very angry with Dumbledore for endangering you so recklessly."

Harry smiled, at least someone still had some common sense left, "Remus is too sane for his own good. I'll get out of your hair, Professor, lovely talking to you again." He left before she could say anything else, slamming the door on his way out.

The teen stormed towards Dumbledore's office, angry, tired, and wanting more heroin. He wanted to hit something and he knew that if he didn't shoot up soon, he would. Harry hated being angry, at some level it made him helpless, he was controlled by his anger.

Getting to the Headmasters office was no problem, and at least it got him out of Herbology, quite possibly the most useless class in the whole crazy school. Not for the first time he wondered if any adult here was even a little sane. Who the hell trusted a sixteen year old boy to save the world!

"Gumdrops," Harry sighed.

The stairs behind the gargoyle opened up and Harry climbed into Dumbledore's office. "Morning, Proffesor," Harry said loudly, announcing himself in the most obvious way.

"Harry, yes, please have a seat, would you like a gumdrop." Dumbledore said from behind his desk. Harry almost rolled his eyes, the old man and his candy. He did sit down in one of the chairs before the headmaster's desk and took a whole handful of gumdrops. "How have you been?"

"Fine." Harry said with a smile, "No problems with my scar, Voldemort hasn't bothered me at all."

"That's good, that's good," Dumbledore mused. "Unfortunately, you know of Voldemort's activities, he's become stronger, he and the Death Eaters are staging public attacks now."

"Right," Harry said slowly, waiting for the headmaster to tell him more.

"Over the summer I've learned very much about Voldemort from my pensieve. And I believe I've learned the secret to his power."

"That's great!" Harry said genuinely, "How do we kill him!"

"What?" Dumbledore blinked.

"Kill him, how do we do it? I want him out of my life."

"I was going to ask you if were capable of taking another life," Dumbledore said quietly, "Are you?"

Harry thought a moment. He was willing to kill Voldemort, but that was a kill or be killed situation. Anyone with half a brain would want to kill Voldemort. But taking another life, just shooting some random guy on the street, could he do it? "Yes." Harry said, looked at the white-haired man across from him with cold eyes.

"I was afraid of that."

The teen sighed.

"Voldemort is evil and what has protected you from him is love: the love of your mother and the love in your heart. You're a good person, Harry. You have a kind, genuine heart." Dumbledore kept talking about hearts and love and goodness—Harry stopped listening. It was driving him insane.

He didn't have a good heart, not anymore. He was dirty, filthy inside. His heart might have been good once upon a time. But now it was just dirt. The old Harry had love in his heart, the new Harry wasn't sure what exactly love was—and he didn't want to find out.

"I think you're wrong." Harry interrupted. "Voldemort isn't evil. He's just a human and human actions are to complex to be labeled good or evil. He's murdered people and I hate him, but he isn't evil. It's not that cut and dry. And I'm not a 'good person'. Again there is no simple good and bad, there's just complexity. I'm a person and therefore the same complexity that is applied to Voldemort's actions should be applied to mine."

Dumbledore watched him with sharp grey eyes, "You didn't used to think so much, Harry."

The teen's lips pulled into an angry smirk, "I grew up."

"So I see." Dumbledore got up and walked over to Fawkes, "Where does that leave us?"

"I'm the one who's going to kill Voldemort, I want a say in what happens. You can't just tell me what to do or hide things from me. I think I deserve to be treated as an adult." Harry said. His arm was throbbing. When he shot up this morning he accidentally missed the vein and hit muscle instead. It hurt like hell. He needed drugs, now.

"I think that's fair."

"Thank you, now what have you learned?"

Dumbledore pet the phoenix who cooed under his hands, "You wouldn't by any chance know what a Horcrux is would you?"

Harry blinked, "A what?"

"A Horcrux."

The teen shook his head, "I'm sorry a whore-crotch?"

"No, a Horcrux," Dumbledore said slowly, stressing the last syllable.

"Oh, no never heard of one."

Dumbledore started to pace, "It's very old, very dark magic. A Horcrux acts as a vessel for a wizards soul, it's a way of achieving immortality. As long as the Horcrux remains in tact, then the wizard will be immortal."

Harry groaned aloud, "That's what Voldemort did, isn't it? He's obsessed with immortality, god that explains it. That's why he didn't die at Godric Hollow, the Horcrux's were intact."

"Exactly, Harry, but how did you—"

"He's been in my head," Harry said in a miserable voice, "I've been in his, it's disgusting and that's all that needs to be said."

Dumbledore nodded, "I can only imagine. But Harry, you see the only way to destroy Voldemort once and for all is to find and destroy the Horcruxes."

"He's got more then one?" Harry sighed.

"I think he has six."

The teen bit his lip, "How do we find them?"

"I've destroyed one already, a ring, you also destroyed one. His diary, you remember it?"

Harry thought a moment, "Tom riddles diary? In second year? That was one?"

Dumbledore nodded.

"Great, so where are the other ones."

"Don't you care about how he made the Horcruxes?"

The teen shrugged, "No, I just want to destroy them so I can kill him. I want to move on with my life," Harry sighed, "I've spent the last five years of my life on Voldemort, I want him dead."

The headmaster didn't say anything, but he nodded. "You've changed, Harry."

"I take it for the worse?"

"It's not up to me to assign judgment to human complexity." Dumbledore said, eyes sparkling merrily.

Harry grinned, "So where are the other ones?"

"Well I have reason to suspect that Voldemort used relics from the founders of the four Hogwarts houses. He used Salazar Slytherins locket, Helga Hufflepuffs cup, and another one I haven't been able to locate. I believe that it's an item belonging to Rowena Ravenclaw. But I believe that the fourth Horcrux is the snake Nagini."

The teen frowned, "So that's three we have to find, we know Nagini is with him—"

"Someone has already taken Salazar Slytherin's locket, someone who calls himself R.A.B. He claimed that he's destroyed it, but…" Dumbledore trailed off.

"Alright then, that's two, the cup and the Ravenclaw relic. That's not too bad."

Dumbledore frowned, "The problem, Harry, is that I can't help you destroy them." He shifted uncomfortably and then Harry noticed something. The professor was favoring his right arm, in fact it looked like he could barely use it.

"Professor what happened to your arm?"

"A curse, when I destroyed that first Horcrux it hurt my arm very badly. It's healing, but at it's own pace. Magic won't speed the process." Dumbledore sighed. "I can try and find the Horcruxes, but you must destroy them on your own."

Harry thought for a moment and nodded, "Alright, I can do that. I'll do whatever it takes to kill him."

Dumbledore smiled weakly, "Be careful of that kind of ambition, but you may go. I'll contact you when I've found a Horcrux."

"Thank you professor. I look forward to it."

With that Harry got up and left the office as quickly as he could. He needed to get to back to his dorm. He needed heroin—now.


The heroin only helped a little bit. It didn't really help the pain in his arm and it didn't really make everything blurry anymore. The euphoria faded too quickly and then everything got clearer. He needed more. So he shot up again.

Harry reclined on his bed, taking deep slow breaths, with a lazy smile on his face. That was much better, that was how it was supposed to feel. He curled up around a pillow and thought about how much better it would be if it were warm. Lavender would be wide open by tomorrow, then he'd finally had a warm body beside him. The teen shivered. He was so cold lately, it was like he couldn't get warm on his own.

When the initial buzz faded, Harry packed away his kit and hid it under the mattress. His stash was running low, he needed to find a new dealer. "I'll go tonight," He told himself, "After I meet lavender I'll sneak into Hogsmade." The teen grinned, "Yeah, that's a perfect plan."

The teen then decided to attend his next class which unfortunately was divination. He checked his watch, he was running late. The class started ten minutes ago. But Harry ambled calmly down the halls, pretty much ignoring the other students. They made such a pretty blur as he walked by. So many colors and so many sounds, it made him feel like he was apart of something bigger—and that's always a nice delusion.

By the time he reached that stupid ladder that he had to climb to get to that stupid bat Trelawney's classroom it was twenty minutes after the start of class. "I hate ladders." Harry grumbled. Even high, he managed to get up the ladder with reasonable success, albeit he burst into the classroom a little awkwardly. He sort of hurled himself from the top of the ladder, onto the floor, and took several deep breaths, murmuring about stupid ladders and how only bats could climb them. Actually he wondered how someone as old and well…physically off balance as Trelawney could even climb the ladder in the first place.

"Sorry I'm late, I had to speak to Dumbledore." Harry said to his professor. Now technically he and Ron had failed their exams in divination, the only reason they were currently in the class was because of a nasty scheduling problem. They couldn't take runes with Hermione because they both decided to take the DADA theory class in addition to the required DADA. And unfortunately the only class they could be shoved into to fill their year requirements was divination.

"Mr. Potter!" She gasped, "A dark omen follows you!"

"One always does, professor. Am I going to die this year?" Half of the class snickered along with Harry.

"No, no, you've already died, Mr. Potter." She said with a bizarrely focused glint in her eyes. Then she paused, "Just kidding." The class chuckled uneasily.

Harry frowned, that was weird.

"Mr. Potter why are you wearing a sweater like that? It's very warm out." She asked, walking over to him in a swish of sequins and scarves.

"I'm cold," The teen shrugged, tugging nervously at his sleeves. He pulled the fabric down further over his wrists, hoping she would try and push them up. Then the track marks would show.

"Odd for such a young man to be so cold," Then Trelawney put a cold clammy hand to his forehead. That was too much, Harry jerked away from her and eyed her suspiciously. "You're very warm."

"Guess I'm sick then." Harry said angrily, he finally spotted Ron seated in a nearby corner, gesturing for his friend to come sit down. The dark haired teen ran a hand through his messy hair and noticed they had this class Slytherins. Shit. "Excuse me professor, I'll take my seat now." he turned and walked away from the professor as quickly as he could.

"You should stay inside tonight, or else hope a wondering Gemini comes to your rescue. The twins, one of whom will care for you and the other resent you for penetrating it's heart. And beware blondes. " Trelawney told him.

Harry sighed and glanced over his shoulder, "Did you just predict that by doing a back reading?"

"I just read your horoscope." She said smugly.

The teen frowned in disbelief, he hoped it was a horoscope, but that was disconcertingly specific. Inadvertently his eyes flickered to the slytherin side of the room and to a very icy blonde. Beware blondes? He should heed the warning, Malfoy wasn't someone a sane, self-appreciating person would want to be involved with. But then again, Harry wasn't too sane.

The blonde's eyes met his. Harry grinned, Malfoy jerked his eyes to the ground and frowned. The Gryffindor briefly considered blowing Malfoy a kiss, but decided against it. That would attract to much attention.

"Today class we will try a new method of divining, a very different method. We will spend the next three weeks learning about it. It is called Pyromancy, and there are many different ways of going about it. The one we will begin with is the most complicated and requires the most skill. Each table is equipped with a candle and a set of matches. You will light the candle and then watch the smoke. If all goes well, then you should see shapes either in the smoke or in the flame itself." Trelawney explained.

Ron sighed, "This sounds insane."

"That's the most basic principle of this whole damn class," Harry agreed. "I call second."

The redhead gave him a good nature glare. Then the redhead lit the candle and starred at the smoke. Harry pulled out his textbook and set it on his lap, ready to look up and report whatever symbols Ron made up.

"Uhm…. I see a circle."

Harry covered a laugh with a snort, "That means your caught in an endless loop in a personal situation."

"Huh, I think I might just be getting dizzy from the incense, but I kind of see pink?"

"Uh," Harry flipped to the color section, "That means love or the object of your affections."

"And I see curls, like hair or something."

"Well we can interpret that literally," Harry said with a wicked smile, "You're stuck in an endless loop because you're in love with Hermione and won't tell her."

"I am not! That—That's just silly!" Ron pouted. Then he thought a moment, "How'd you get Hermione?"

"She's got curly hair?"


Harry yawned, "See? That just proves all this stuff is bullshit, you see what you want to see. You saw that shit because your subconscious is trying to tell you something."

The redhead rolled his eyes, "When did you get all philosophical?"

"I got bored, I ran out of cars to chase."

Ron laughed, "Your turn."

The dark haired teen blew out Ron's flame and light his own. He propped his elbows on the table and rested his chin in his palms, starring into the flame with bored eyes. He watched the smoke, honestly he thought smoke was kind of cool. It danced and swirled into all those pretty shapes. And he thought it was a cool color too. Whenever he smoked weed with his new friends he'd always just lay back and enjoy the smoke.

Then his eyes started to loose focus, all the sudden he was sleepy—so sleepy. His eye lids got heavy and he blinked long and slow, slow enough that he could feel his lashes brush his cheeks. When his eyes opened again, the small candle flame was bigger all the sudden. Like it had grown or something, it took up all the space in front of his eyes—until all he could see was the flame.

It flickered and danced before him and then it started to change.

It turned into needles, sewing through skin, sharp and pointy and glittering in some kind of invisible light. And then the needle was a syringe, Harry could see heroin floating through the needle into a vein.

Then everything turned back into fire before it shifted again.

The red color leaked away from the fire and it turned silvery, it turned into the moon, hanging heavy above him. Everything else was dark except for the moon. That light, it was so bright that Harry thought it would swallow everything. Then the light faded because there was a face in his way.

And then a hand stretched forward, a strong, fine-boned hand with pale skin that sort of glowed in the moonlight. It was a gentle hand and it wasn't forcing him, it was just asking Harry to take it. It was asking Harry if it could help him. The hand stretched closer to him. The teen didn't feel his hand moving, but he knew it was. His hand was moving towards that glowing hand, his hand was begging to be saved.

Someone shouted and then there were higher pitched shrieks and gasps.

Why were they yelling?

Wait why was his hand so hot? Fuck it hurt!

Harry's eyes widened violently and he saw that his hand was inside a fairly large ball of fire at the end of the candle wick. Somehow the flame had grown into a head sized mass of fire. Harry yanked his hand back and the ball became a small, lick of flame, normal for a candle.

All the sudden Harry was on the floor, gasping for breath and starring at his hand. His skin was in patches of black charred skin that actually smoke and bright pink sections that stung like hell. It was the most painful thing Harry had ever felt. He couldn't breath, his brain was just screaming in pain, all he could think about was how much his fucking hand hurt.

"Oh my god, Harry, are you okay?" Ron gasped.

"Do I look okay?" Harry managed to gasp, the heroin was helping a little bit, not enough though. "What the hell?" He turned to Trelawney.

"You had a vision," The witch whispered in shock, "You had a true vision, what did you see! Tell me!"

Harry was about to kill her, "stuff in the fire, what did you do to it! How'd it—"

"I didn't touch the flame, you did that. I need someone to take Mr. Potter to the infirmary! Someone big and strong in case he collapses—well actually, he's thin enough anyone will do." She addressed the class, "Not you Mr. Weasly, I need to know exactly what happened. And no one who saw what happened!"

That eliminated the whole Gryffindor side of the room, they were all close enough to have seen first hand what happened.

"Can you do a pain spell?" Harry whimpered, meanwhile he was almost writhing on the floor in pain.

"I'm not authorized too," She told him.

The dark haired teen bit his lip so hard it was bleeding. The black bits of his hand were numb, but the pink parts, ohgodohgodohgod, he was going to die if someone didn't help him. "Pick someone fast," Harry managed to gasp.

"Uhhmm, Malfoy! You! Take him to the infirmary!" Malfoy opened his mouth to protest but Trelawney would have none of it. "He's very badly injured, go! Or else! I'll take points from Slytherin!"

Malfoy cursed under his breath and stood above Harry, "Can you walk?"

Harry was about to scream, this was insane! His brain was going to explode and Malfoy was asking him if he could walk. Trelawney was so fucking stupid! He was going to killkillkillkillkillkill her! The teen shot Malfoy a dirty look and, clutching his hand to his chest crawled towards the ladder. Harry got four steps down before he fell off.

"Shit!" Malfoy cursed. "If you die I am so fucked!"

The dark haired teen groaned. His head was spinning and he could see little stars. Luckily it wasn't to big of a ladder—but still. That fucking hurt. He wriggled to make sure nothing broke, all his bones seemed fine. But his head was pounding.

"Potter, are you alive?"

Harry whimpered something that resembled fuck.

"Can you walk?"

It would be so much easier if he just rolled over and died right here. Harry thrust his hand in the hair and tried to muster a sarcastic glare in the face of the excruciating pain he was in.

"That'll be a no," Malfoy said, mostly to himself because Harry was now writhing on the floor because it hurt so badly, dignity long abandoned. This was actually worse than the Cruciatus curse.

"If you Death Eaters found a spell that could burn people, it would be way better than Crucio," Harry mumbled.

The blonde tried to drag Harry to his feet and wrap the small teens arm over his shoulder, that way Harry could walk a little and support some of his own weight. But Harry's feet just dragged along the stones. Malfoy sighed, he was just dragging babbling dead weight. "I'm not a Death Eater." He insisted as he picked up Harry and looped an arm under the teen's knees.

Harry kept his wounded hand pressed tight to his chest, but wrapped his other arm around Draco's neck. He was in so much pain and everything was spinning. "So are you in the junior Death Eater club?"

"Can you shut up?"

The dark haired teen's head flopped back and he giggled, "Can you kiss me?"

"The fuck is wrong with you?" Malfoy snarled.

Harry kept giggling, "It's all spinny and black and…Malfoy is that you?"

The blonde glanced down at Harry. Shit, he looked totally loopy, he wasn't faking this. "It's me, just stop talking, we'll be at the infirmary soon."

"Rock a bye baby on the treetops," Harry sung in a dizzy voice, "when the wind blows the cradle will rock, and down will come baby…cradle and all!" The dark haired teen giggled and then opened his mouth to start another verse, anything to keep his mind off his hand.

"Stop singing that song, it's fucking creepy."

"Oh, okay, I got another one, ring around the roses a pocket full of posies—"

"That's even creepier, do you even know what that songs about?"


Draco rolled his eyes, "It's about the black plague."

Harry's head lolled limply back and forth as Malfoy climbed the last staircase to the infirmary. "Um…Ron?"

"Shut up."

"Ron is that you?" Harry whispered again.

"Harry, be quiet."

Harry's head flopped forward to stare up at Draco with wild, insistent eyes—it was funny how green they were. Draco had never seen eyes so vibrant, his mother's certainly didn't measure up. "No, no, Ron it's you, right?" Malfoy could tell by the clouded nature of Harry's eyes that he wasn't lucid anymore, he might've been hallucinating. "Ron, I got a secret for ya."

Malfoy sighed, "What is it?"

The smaller teen grinned and pressed his lips to Malfoy's ear, the blonde shivered. Harry's breath was really, really warm. "I hate you…you left me to die. And you knew it!" Harry started to shout in a raw, exhausted voice, "You knew what they did! You knew, I know you knew. I was calling for you….why didn't you come? I came when you called!"

"You're hallucinating," Draco said uncomfortably, he hadn't been expecting this sort of raw confession.

"No, no, no, Ron! I have to tell you. I hate you."

And then Harry passed out. His head lolled against Draco's shoulder. The blonde could feel Harry's harsh, shallow breaths against his neck. "That was weird," he told himself, trying to dismiss the small teen's words as mere hallucinations. But there was an honesty to them, a desperate truth that colored them. What had Weasly done to him? For some reason, just wondering made Malfoy a little bit angry.

A/N: Well I was going to make this longer, but then it got too long already! So, everyone please forgive spelling and grammer errors, I just wrote it and posted it when it was done. Also, don't forget Harry's little vision in the fire, it might be important later. wink wink nudge nude. A nods as good as a wink to a blind bat

Anyone who identifies that last quote gets a turtle.