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I don't own Harry Potter.

I'M SO SORRY! I HAVE NOT ABANDONED THESE STORIES! I JUST HAVE A REALLY SCREWED UP LIFE AT THE MOMENT AND AM WRITING AS FAST AS POSSIBLE! I really am sorry. I am also going to update Horrible Timing and Serena's Trap ASAP.

I turned back to the old wizard- who was now blinking rapidly like he had just woken up- and motioned for him to follow me out of the newly formed door to the hallway.

"I believe I owe you a bit of an explanation, old man."

The human and I stepped through the wooden door into a small room with a low ceiling that had a claustrophobic feel to it. But what the room was filled with shocked me.

Carnage… Everywhere.

Pieces of the walls were scattered throughout the room along with reminants of glass and stone basins. And I had to admit I was shaken. Fear and anger gripped me with his steel hand, as I stared at the rubble that had been my-

A small gasp behind me inturrupted my thoughts. I spun around to gaze at the Headmaster with rage filled eyes. Dumbledore's own wizzing orbs had darted around the room, absorbing every piece of destroyed property, and now a look of realization shone in his eyes.

"Voldemort was here," he said with a slightly fascinated tone to his voice, "but how did he-"I stopped him with a short 'later', and cleared away the layer of glass and stone shards around us.

I gestured with my wing for him to sit, and as he did I felt a clawing sensation of self doubt fill me. What if he didn't believe me? Or if he didn't want to help? What if he wandered off into Harry's mind and found the door? What if he got eaten? What if- I shook my head, clearing my thoughts. I just had to stay calm… For Harry's sake as well as mine. Determination filled my stomach.

I would not fail Harry again. No… Never again, for that minor error had cost him so much suffering…

A small cough from the grey-haired human jolted me out of my silent vow. I sighed to myself and flicked my head toward him. "Ask and I shall answer, old man."

Now, that was an explanation he was not hoping to hear. I could see it in his lined, and wrinkled complexion, but the wizard pressed on with an obviously fake serene façade plastered on his face.

He started with a simple question, one that I had been asked many times. Although, no matter who asked this question it always seemed to get more and more annoying. I mean, really! Who askes that infernal obvious question? Don't these idiots have eyes?

Dumbledore had asked where we were.

If I were human, I would have slapped him. So instead, I responded with a well thought out and intellectual response. "Well, Albus Percival Wolfric Brian Dumbledore," I sneered as Snapely as I could, "we are in a room."

"Yes, I knew that, but where is this room located in-"

I cut him off. This was too great an opportunity to let pass by! I felt the corners of my beak twitch in merriment as I said, "This room is located here, my dear headmaster."

The wrinkles between his eyes scrunched together in frustration at my antics, but my happiness just continued to grow. After all, when had anyone been permitted to try and outwit the famous Albus Dumbledore?

This is why I only snickered when he replied with a short, "Where?"

"There."

"WHERE is there?"

I felt some giddiness float into my smile. This was better than I ever could have imagined! So, I contined to taunt his intelligence with a smile filled, "Right here."

"WHERE?" He all but screamed at me.

"In that place with the place in it, you know?"

Albus howled, "NO, I don't! Where are we you frustrating phoenix?"

I snickered again. Leave it to Dumbledore to end someone's fun times… "Well, there is no reason to stoop to badly made insults. I will tell you."

This seemed to boost the man's morale as I spoke. It meant so much more than the fact that he was getting slaughtered at a mind game, actually, by me moving onto the real talk then the headmaster must have realized just how close he was to finding a way to get to Harry. Too bad that this was going to be a long Q&A session!

"Very well, old one." I took a deep breath of preparation. Dumbledore never liked to be left without information, so this was going to be very detailed and boring. Unless… Oooh! I had an idea. "First of all, I will only allow you five questions. This is not only to limit the amount I have to talk, but also to leave you as you left someone that I know very well: in the dark."

"So, question numero uno!" I said with a slight flair to the non-grammtically correct Spanglish. "We are in the depths of a Mr. Harry James Potter's subconscious. Actually, to be more specific, my dwelling that resides in him."

Yes, the small shards of glass, the large splinters of wood, the giant shards from my miniature pensieve… They were all my own. Harry had constructed this room himself, as he had with all of the caverns of his mind, but he had placed a protection on this place. A protection that Voldemort had broken so very, very easily while I had not been inside. It made me shiver as to think of what has happened to the rest of Harry's mind, and the secrets that he instructed so many of us to guard… For his sake I hope Harry had placed the ultimate guard against Voldemort. If he did not… Well, let's merely hope that he did…

I pushed myself once again from my desperate musings, and turned my attention back to the conversation at hand.

"Your home…" Dumbledore whispered just loud enough to be overheard, "Ciemny, what is your role in Harry's mind. Why are you here? To protect him?"

Now that was an awful question to ask. Of course the man just had to put a sore subject right in the beginning of the questioning… Typical!

However, I suppose it was a valid question.

"Sort of…" I responded, "My role has been changed throughout this young man's lifetime. At the moment, it is complicated, to say the least." And I left it at that. There was no way this old coot was getting all of the useful information out of me early!

"Who are you protecting him from?" Was the next question, and it jarred my memory like nothing else. There were so many things to protect this child from that it was stunning. From himself to Voldemort and plenty in between, this should have been my reply… But I had a strong urge to just repeat the obvious and keep Harry's secrets safe. Some things should be kept from this man… I just knew it!

I chirped out, "Voldemort. We must keep him from reaching one of three precious items that Harry keeps hidden here."

This took Dumbledore by storm. This surprising him didn't shock me, though. I knew that he must have thought he was brought here to save Harry, but it was so much more than that… More than that man could comprehend.

He took awhile to contemplate my words, I could practically see him rolling them over in his head and analyzing them. When he finally opened his mouth to speak, however, he had a new question.

"What are the items are we being sent to protect? His Invisibility Cloak or his wand?"

Now this made me laugh- Or rather, trill out loud. "You really think that Harry would endanger your life for a stupid Cloak?" I cawed out through my trills, "You must be stupider than you look! You're almost as bad as those fat relatives!"

I think it took me a good five minutes to calm down. When I did, however, I figured I might as well answer his idiotic question.

"No, Dumbledore, Harry did not bring you here to merely protect a little item of importance to him. No, he would never do that. Harry brought you here to protect something that he could only keep at bay himself." I shivered involuntarily. I knew from experience how powerful that thing inside was… And I knew very well how hard Harry pushed himself to keep it behind a locked door. "This power inside a doorway is something that nobody except Harry could keep inside, but Voldemort had rendered Harry very, very weak. So, Harry shoved the door and the other item behind even more protection than before right before he summoned you and passed out."

In return for that well developed answer, I just got a "what the hell" look from a one hundred and fifty year old man. His eyebrows were also all scrunched together in confusion, and a single vein pounded above his temple as the gears in his rickety brain turned.

"Ciemny," The teacher whispered anxiously, "what is behind that door?"

Oh crap. Why did he have to ask that? Shoot! How do I answer? Uhh… I guess I'll just say something half truthful! Yeah, that's it! I breathed out, "Power. So much that it could crush Voldemort easily if Harry let it consume him. It is… Well, I suppose you'd call it Dark magic."

"But how did it get inside Harry-"I cut him off again.

I shook my head and took flight as I said, "That's your five questions. Now let's get going, we have a long road ahead of us."

Dumbledore and I stepped through the door on the left, and I had a sudden foreboding feeling in my small, feathered gut. That manipulating human was definitely not going to like this one. It will upset him greatly to see what looks like Harry acting like… What he is feeling.

But I swear, if that old dude cries… I'm out of here! I don't do tears.

I looked over at the old, wrinkled human curiously as I landed on his shoulder. Dumbledore's face seemed to be forcibly contorted into a face of calmness and serenity in a sad attempt to keep himself from getting overemotional. Poor sap doesn't know what's coming…

As I surveyed the room around me, I thought I felt the incredible, impenetrable, amazing, unbreakable, Albus Dumbledore tremble beneath me.

But… That couldn't be right! The incredible, impenetrable, amazing, unbreakable, strong, brave, and powerful Headmaster doesn't tremble in fear. Right? Then again, I did just drag him out from his little fantasyland of lemon drops and ice mice, and drop him into Harry's mess of a brain to go through his guardians. I suppose I'd be a bit freaked too. Maybe just a tad.

Creeak! I leaped out of my thoughts as I saw the next guardian start across the cheap wood floor to a chair on my upper left side. A guitar in hand, the Harry look alike had blazing orange eyes that had a frozen expression of an angst, murder-ridden… War veteran. He was not the angsty teen that Harry Potter tried to pretend to be.

The guardian sat down in the chair with a defeated thump of the chair. He looked at the guitar for a moment, as if he was contemplating something, and started to tune his instrument. I watched him with a slight sad smile. I detested watching this little performance sometimes… It was… Well, it's indescribable, really.

The musician I knew quite well locked his eyes with mine, and gave me a comforting blink of his glowing pumpkin colored eyes.

Good ol' Sorg, always thinking of others, but then again it is his job… I nodded my head in response, and he didn't even miss a beat. Sorg, the guardian, spun his head at breakneck speed to simply glare angrily at Dumbledore. He strummed the first note on his acoustic guitar, and without looking away from the old manipulator, Sorg began.

Do you ever feel like breaking down?
Do you ever feel out of place?
Like somehow you just don't belong,
And no one understands you.

Sorg's melodic baritone voice never wavered as he sang the lyrics with a defeated, smooth tone. Every note led to another in a brilliant sequencing of music that he seemed to pour his entire being into.

And yet, he continued to stare at Dumbledore with silent accusations.

Do you ever wanna run away?
Do you lock yourself in your room?
With the radio on turned up so loud,
That no one hears you screaming.

Dumbledore's confident stance of importance seemed to falter with every word of the song, pounding itself deeper and deeper into his subconscious until it hit where it hurt. His eyebrows were slightly lowered in confusion, and slight uneasiness with the notes that followed. The headmaster was so anxious he rocked back and forth on his heels while under Sorg's tormenting gaze.

Not so tough now… Are you Dumbles?

No you don't know what it's like,
When nothing feels all right.
You don't know what it's like,
To be like me.

The guardian put his hand to his heart for a moment before continuing with a rougher, loud tone to his voice that seemed to frighten Dumbledore more than his appearance.

To be hurt.
To feel lost.
To be left out in the dark.

A memory of Dumbledore in Harry's fifth year shimmered into focus behind the guardian. The somewhat younger Harry was running after the Dumbledore that was storming away, not even aknowleging the teenager behind him. The stone cold look on his face was terrifying.

The memory flashed to Sirius falling through the Veil.

I could see the look on Dumbledore's face. It was the look on the face of many nighttime wanderers that were caught by their teachers. It was definately the 'oh crap!' look. Also known as the realization look, but what was the fun in that?

And by that frozen expression on his face, I knew he was finally figuring it out.

To be kicked when you're down.
To feel like you've been pushed around.

A meaty, purple faced man shoving a three year old down the stairs showed up on the screen now. The child flipped and did summersaults down the wooden staircase as his momentum caught up with him, but when he neared the bottom, he turned onto his side at a very precise angle.

It was as if he knew how he needed to fall… One could only learn that by experience.

To be on the edge of breaking down,
And no one's there to save you.
No you don't know what it's like,
Welcome to my life.

A memory of Harry, dangling for dear life on a statue of the Grim Reaper, completely alone except for a cackling Voldemort, a dead Cedric, and his Death Eaters.

Oh, now that expression was priceless… Ciemny thought. And it was true. The wrinkles on his face seemed to multiply by the dozens as muscles in his face flexed to go with his terrified emotions. And I knew he was not terrified merely by the song and Sorg's all but basilisk-like gaze.

No, he was scared of his realization. And he knew it.

He was guilty.

Do you wanna be somebody else?
Are you sick of feeling so left out?

An image of a frail teenager huddled in a dark, crowded room with giant locks and bars on the windows appeared on the screen. The child seemed to stare with blank, glassy eyes at Dumbledore.

Are you desperate to find something more?
Before your life is over.
Are you stuck inside a world you hate?
Are you sick of everyone around?
With their big fake smiles and stupid lies,
While deep inside you're bleeding.

An image of Umbridge and her blood quill, torturing Harry appeared, and next to it a memory of her protective teaching.

Sorg added anger to the mix of his singing, and now started my reason for reluctance for watching.

No you don't know what it's like,
When nothing feels all right.
You don't know what it's like,
To be like me.

I winced as Sorg's emotion he had been overlooking took over him. His eyes blazed like a thousand super nova suns, and fury spread throughout his body, lighting it with a terrifying glow.

A dark scowl was emitted from his chapped lips.

To be hurt.
To feel lost.
To be left out in the dark.
To be kicked when you're down,
To feel like you've been pushed around.
To be on the edge of breaking down,
And no one's there to save you .
No you don't know what it's like,
Welcome to my life.

A memory of Harry, bound with ropes, facing Quirrel and Voldemort for the Stone played.

By this point Sorg was practically spitting venom at dumbstruck Dumbledore. The guardian was screaming the angst ridden song at the top of his lungs.

No one ever lied straight to your face,

The Dursleys in the backround, now with expressions of distaste, telling him he was a freak and that his parents were drunks.

And no one ever stabbed you in the back.
You might think I'm happy but I'm not gonna be okay!

The picture of Harry when he was being tortured by Bellatrix rippled onto the screen. His screams echoed throughout the room.

Everybody always gave you what you wanted.
You never had to work it was always there.

Ron Weasley and his mother were arguing now, and on the other side of the screen was an image of Lily and James' graves.

You don't know what it's like, what it's like.

The strumming of his guitar seemed to become less violent now, but Dumbledore remained flabbergasted at the guardian.

To be hurt
To feel lost
To be left out in the dark

The cupboard under the stairs showed up next, with a bruised eight year old sobbing quietly after a nightmare.

To be kicked when you're down
To feel like you've been pushed around
To be on the edge of breaking down

The image of Harry shattering Dumbledore's office flashed to life.

And no one's there to save you.

No you don't know what it's like (what it's like)

To be hurt
To feel lost
To be left out in the dark
To be kicked when you're down
To feel like you've been pushed around
To be on the edge of breaking down
And no one's there to save you
No, you don't know what it's like,

Welcome to my life

The Mirror of Erised showed up with Harry's parents shinning back at him with Sirius and Cedric on their flanks.

Welcome to my life

Harry was grabbing the bars of his prison at the Dursleys, and shaking them in a futile effort to get out.

Welcome to my life.

A last image jolted to the screen. It was the Prophecy swirling about in a small glass orb. It was Harry's destiny.

And as I led Dumbledore, who looked shell shocked, out of the room, I couldn't help think…

How is he going to cope with the rest of the guardians?