Alexis: "Poor, poor Harry-chan."
Luke: "What do you mean?"
Alexis: "Look at him!"
Luke: "So? He's an angsty little teenager, what's to be sorry for? "
Alexis: "Luke…"
Luke: "Yeah?"
Alexis: "Go see if anyone's updated their stories. And keep an eye on Wulfric for me.
Luke:"Why?"
Alexis: -glares- "DO IT!"
Luke:-flees to check out Wulfric Dumbledore's progress-
Oh, and if I didn't put it in the last chapter, as I may have forgotten. I don't own Harry Potter or any of the character and places your recognize. Heck, I don't even own half of this plot. This is purely basted off my friend's Harry Potter music video trailer thingy, which you can find a link to in the first chapter.
Harry's footsteps echoed through the nearly deserted halls as he made his way to Dumbledore's office. He was in no hurry to get there, as he still hadn't the foggiest idea as to what he was going to say. Sure, he could tell him that McGonagall has just sent him up there, but then he'd have the question as to why she had sent him, and that was something he just wasn't sure how to answer.
Harry slowly turned the corner he knew would bring him to the entrance of his destination. The sight of the gargoyle made him hesitate slightly. He still had no idea what he was going to do. Harry allowed his hand to travel to his left forearm again, he shuddered. It seemed to pop out of his skin even more now, and upon touching it, it throbbed angrily.
He tried to shake off the feeling of dread and uneasiness that had settled in his stomach as he recited the pass word to the Headmaster's office and stepped onto the moving staircase. Harry knocked on the familiar polished oak door and waited for the deep voice of Albus Dumbledore.
"Enter, Harry." Dumbledore's voice flowed out through the closed door and washed over Harry, it was almost as if a warm wave had passed over his body, the feeling was so welcome. He pushed open the door and stepped into the Headmaster's office.
Dumbledore sat at his desk, as always, his long silver hair shimmering in the light. He peered warmly over his half-moon spectacles at his favorite pupil. Minerva had warned him that Harry would be coming and had also informed him that the boy seemed slightly distressed. From Albus's point of view, Harry seemed fine, if nothing else a little tired.
"Please, Harry, take a seat." He gestured to the usual spot in front of his desk. Harry nodded took the spot indicated. "Now, Harry, Professor McGonagall informs me that you've been a bit –what's the word she used?—distracted." Harry looked a little uneasy and squirmed a little in his chair.
And then Dumbledore saw it. The tired, scared look in the boy's eyes. This look, Albus know it well. Harry only looked this way when he had not been sleeping, eating, or was just so very stressed about something.
"Harry?" Harry lifted his head to look at his headmaster. "Is there something you wish to talk about?" He asked his pupil, his voice gentle and as welcoming as he could make it. Harry hesitated. What did he say?
"I—I uh---" Dumbledore was watching him, carefully, attempting to understand what was happening to him. "I---" Harry began to fidget in his seat more. That scared look on his growing with each passing second.
Harry could feel the Mark throb painfully and a feeling that outdid the dread and the nervousness and the fear, welled up within him. It was the thirst for blood. The need to harm someone. But not just anyone, a certain someone. Someone near him. The certain someone in front of him.
No! Harry thought, closing his eyes tightly. I won't hurt him! I don't want to hurt Dumbledore! I won't do it! Harry was so wrapped up in his inner turmoil and thoughts that he didn't hear Dumbledore's voice reach him at first. He did, however, register as soft, kind sound coming from somewhere in front of him. He slowly opened his eyes to look at the man in front of him. Look into those sky-blue eyes and realize how much concern they held. How caring he seemed to look. How…was that look one of fear? Was Albus Dumbledore, the Greatest Wizard of the Age, scared of Harry Potter? Or was he just scared for the Boy Who Lived?
"Harry..." Albus tried again, this time catching the boy's eye. "Are you alright, my boy?" He asked gently, reaching a hand over the desk and placing it gently on his pupil's.
Harry had no idea how to react. Such a gesture of kindness and compassion was so foreign to him that he had never learned how to react. He blinked several times before looking up from the Old Man's hand and into his kind, concerned eyes.
"Sir..." He trailed off, not entirely sure what he was going to say, or even what he could say. "Sir I…" He tried again, still with no avail. Here Dumbledore stood and slipped around the desk, to here Harry stood. He placed a hand gently upon the boy's shoulder and smiled kindly at him.
"It's okay, Harry. I am here for you." Dumbledore informed him gently. Harry nodded. It was times like these when he saw Dumbledore more as a father than his headmaster; it was times like these he felt he could tell the man anything. And just as he was about to pull up his sleeve and show the Old Man the Mark, it throbbed again and Harry could have sworn he heard a voice in the back of his head, ever so faintly telling him to attack his beloved headmaster.
And the voice continued to tell him to do so, growing louder and louder with each passing second, until it had drown out Dumbledore's comforting words and was reminding him how mad he had been at the man two years ago. How Dumbledore had kept his destiny a secret from him. How he had tried to comfort Harry when he had no idea at all how it felt to lose someone so important to him. And now, he could see it so clearly. How weak this man truly was. How venerable he was, and how he, Harry, could easily kill him and rid the world of his passive ways.
Harry's wand was out and pointed at the man's throat, an evil orange glint in his eyes. The Mark continued to throb, but he didn't care. He was ignoring it now. His sights were on the man in front of him, soon to be the dead man in front of him.
He brought his wand up across his chest, almost as if he were slashing Dumbledore with a sword and was pleased to see its result: His Headmaster went flying a few feet away from him, blood flying form his now wounded chest. Harry smirked as Dumbledore slowly got to his feet. The old man didn't even have his wand on him; it still sat, unused, upon his desk.
"Harry wha—" Dumbledore began, but was cut off by another blast aimed at his chest. He flew back again and hit the back wall of his office, pain rushing through his ancient body.
"Learn to shut your mouth, Old Man." Harry stated, advancing upon his Headmaster. His voice, walk, and mannerisms had completely changed. This was not Harry. It couldn't be Harry. Of this, Albus was sure. But before he had time to ponder what was happening to this boy he thought of as a son, another blast hit him square over the heart, causing him to cry out in pain.
Blow after blow, was delivered to Dumbledore's chest, back and head. And within minuets, he found he could barely move a single mussel in his body. His wand, which he had tried to grab and use only to block a blow or two with, lay at least ten feet away from him. Blood trickled down from his mouth and into his slivery white beard. His once midnight blue robes were soaked with his own blood that poured out of several cuts in his chest and back. He was weak, he was beaten, and for some reason, he wanted more.
Albus Dumbledore lay upon his office floor, wishing that Harry would only continue this assault. It somehow seemed to make up from all the wrong he had caused this boy. It seemed to finally relieve some of Harry's pent up stress and anger, and Dumbledore's own desire for the boy to strike him, to hit him, to tell him how stupid he really was and what he had done wrong.
But has Harry began advancing on him again, Albus was able to catch a look of fear behind the evil glint. And something told him, this wasn't Harry's doing.
"Harry, mboy, please, focus." He begged the angst-ridden teen, whose wand was now inches from his face, a green light glowing on its tip. "You are not a killer, Harry. This is not you, my dear boy." And the glint left Harry's eyes, and his wand lay on the ground, and he was shaking.
"Sir, I—I'm—" The raven haired teen stammered, tears streaming down his face as he looked down at his bleeding Headmaster. He fell to his knees and supported a very weakened, bleeding, panting Dumbledore. "S-sir, I-I'm s-sorry." He stammered, his voice breaking more with each word.
Albus smile weakly and raised a hand to the wipe the tears from Harry's face. "It is not your fault, Harry. You lost control, what you've done tonight was not of your own will." Harry nodded and sobbed into Dumbledore's bleeding chest, shame, misery, and relief that that he had not killed the man washing over him.
Alexis: "So…very…tired…" –pants and flops down on bed-
Luke: "I think you went in circles a little too much…"
Alexis: "Bite me."
Luke:"No, really, I think you went in circles. Your readers might not like that, ya know."
Alexis:"True, but I wasn't sure how I could stretch that out anymore, and I didn't want an extremely short chapter with just a fight so…"
Luke: "Good point. Well, we'll just have to wait and see how stuff goes, eh?"
Well, I can't say I enjoyed beating up Albus, but I can't say I didn't either. I mean, who would honestly think he wouldn't want Harry to hit him once or twice during that whole ordeal in Order of the Phoenix? I mean, really, Albus is human too.
And I apologize for this chapter, guys. It's kinda a filler, kinda not. And yes, I do realize that I did repeat myself a lot. I'll try not to do that in the next chapters. In fact, I may go back and rewrite this one later, I dunno. I don't have a lot of time between school, my Viola, homework and other stuff.
So, until I get back to my computer and start writing again. See you all laters!
--Alexis