Deja Vu
Chapter 10- Deja Vu
By the time October arrived, Harry was feeling as if he was reliving last year all over again. The only time he got a good night's sleep was on the nights he was allowed to take a dreamless sleep potion. Every time he tried to sleep he would he be attacked by nightmares of this giant snake towering over him, his brother, the motionless body of someone he couldn’t name, and even a bathroom sink opening. It scared him so much that he always woke gasping for breath before emptying the contents of his stomach on the floor of his dorm.
Every night after waking from his nightmares, Harry would make his way down to the Ravenclaw Library, take the desk farthest from any doors or windows, and draw whatever scene from his nightmare that had stuck with him. Afterwards he would grab a random book and read it until Luna would come and sit with him until he finished whatever book he was reading. Once he was done, Luna would take him by his hand and lead him to the Great Hall and gently force him to sit next to her where he had then taken to leaning against her while nibbling on whatever Luna had placed on his plate that morning.
Now, Harry found himself sitting in an alcove, hidden from sight, while trying to get some rest before going to his biweekly meetings with Severus and Professor Flitwick. He slowly opened his eyes when the hallway suddenly got cold, a sign that a ghost was near. Harry turned and saw Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor Ghost, floating down the corridor muttering something that, at the time, Harry didn’t really care for. Harry closed his eyes, pulled his cloak tighter around him and tried to rest, only to have his eyes snap back open with a silent growl when he heard his brother.
“Hello, Nick.” Haiden said and Harry rolled his eyes. Tiredness apparently did not suit him well.
“Hello, hello.” Nearly Headless Nick said sounding stund. “You look troubled, Haiden.”
“So do you.” Haiden said.
“Ah, a matter of no importance…. It’s not as though I really wanted to join…. Thought I’d apply, but apparently I ‘don’t fulfill requirements’- But you would think, wouldn’t you,” Harry heard the sound of paper and peaked out of his alcove to see the ghost with a piece of paper in his hand, “that getting hit forty-five times in the neck with a blunt axe would qualify you to join the Headless Hunt?”
“Oh- yes.” Haiden said looking very uncomfortable that sent a strange satisfying feeling through Harry that shocked him.
“I mean, nobody wishes more than I do that it had all been quick and clean, and my head had come off properly, I mean, it would have saved me a great deal of pain and ridicule. However-” Nearly Headless Nick shook his letter open and furiously read:
“‘We can only accept huntsmen whose heads have
parted company with their bodies. You will appreciate
that it would be impossible otherwise for members to
participate in hunt activities such as Horseback Head-
Juggling and Head Polo. It is with the greatest regret,
therefore, that I must inform you that you do not ful-
fill out requirement. With every best wishes, Sir
Patrick Delaney-Podmore.’”
“Half an inch of skin and sinew holding my neck on, Haiden!” Nearly Headless Nick cried as he stuffed the letter away. “Most people would think that’s good and beheaded, but oh, no, it’s not enough for Sir Properly Decapitated-Podmore.” The ghost took several deep breaths and then said in a calmer tone, “So- what’s bothering you? Anything I can do?”
“No.” Haiden said before glaring off to the side. “Not unless you know where we can get seven free Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones for out match against Sly-” He was cut off by a high-pitched mewling from somewhere near his ankles. Harry glanced down at Haiden’s ankles to see Mrs. Norris, the skeletal gray cat used by the caretaker, Argus Filch, as a sort of deputy in his endless battle against students.
“You’d better get out of here, Haiden.” Nick said quickly. “Filch isn’t in a good mood- he’s got the flu and some third years accidentally plastered frog brains all over the ceiling in dungeon five. He’s been cleaning all morning, and if he sees you dripping mud all over the place-”
“Right.” Haiden said and began to back away from the accusing stare of Mrs. Norris, but he wasn’t quick enough. As if drawn to the spot by the mysterious power that seemed to connect him with his foul cat, Argus Filch burst suddenly through a tapestry right next to Harry, who had sucked in a breath as if Filch would hear him breath, wheezing and looking wildly about for the rule-breaker. There was a thick tartan scarf bound around his head, and his nose was unusually purple. Harry flinched when Filch’s eyes landed on him before flying over to his brother, Harry tried to bolt from the alcove but was stopped when Filch grabbed him and pulled him from it shocking Haiden and Nearly Headless Nick.
“Filth!” Filch shouted, his jowls aquiver, his eyes popping alarmingly as he pointed at the muddy puddle that had dripped from Haiden’s Quidditch robes with his free hand. “Mess and muck everywhere! I’ve had enough of it, I tell you! You two are coming with me!”
“I didn’t do anything! I didn’t dirty the floor! Look at me! I’m clean!” Harry cried as he tried to pull away from Filch, but the old man was very strong and literally dragged him down the hall as his brother followed while glaring at him doubling the number of muddy footprints of the floor.
Harry had never been inside Filch’s office before; it was a place most students avoided, even the Twins tried to avoid it at all possible. The room was dingy and windowless, lit by a single oil lamp dangling from the low ceiling. A faint smell of fried fish lingered about the place. Wooden filing cabinets stood around the walls; from their labels, Harry could see that they contained details of every pupil Filch had ever punished. Fred and George had an entire drawer to themselves. A highly polished collection of chains and manacles hung on the wall behind Filch’s desk. It was common knowledge that he was always begging Dumbledore to let him suspend students by their ankles from the ceiling.
Filch threw Harry into the room causing him to stumble and knock into a wooden chair that was by the door. Harry glared at him as he grabbed a quill from a pot on his desk and began shuffling around looking for parchment. “Dung,” he muttered furiously, “great sizzling dragon bogies… frog… rat intestines… I’ve had enough of it… make an example… where’s the forms… yes…” Filch retrieved two large rolls of parchment from his desk drawer and stretched one out in front of him, dipping his long black quill into the ink pot.
“ Name … Harry Potter. Crime …”
“I didn’t do anything!” Harry growled stomping his foot in anger.
“That’s exactly right, boy ! You did nothing but watch as your brother defiled this castle!” Filch growled back.
“Defiled? It was only a bit of mud!” Haiden cried out.
“It’s only a bit of mud to you, boy, but to me it’s an hour of scrubbing!” Filch shouted, a drip shivering unpleasantly at the end of his bulbous nose. “ Crime … aiding in befouling the castle… suggested sentence …” Dabbing his streaming nose, Filch squinted unpleasantly at Harry, who glared at him as he waited for his sentence to fall. But as Filch lowered his quill, there was a great BANG on the ceiling of the office, which made the oil lamp rattle.
“PEEVES!” Filch roared, flinging down his quill in a transport of rage. “I’ll have you this time, I’ll have you!” And without a backwards glance at Harry and Haiden, Filch ran flat-footed from the office, Mrs. Norris streaking alongside him.
Peeves was the school poltergeist, a grinning, airborne menace who lived to cause havoc and distress. Harry didn’t much like Peeves, but couldn’t help feeling grateful for his timing. Hopefully whatever Peeves had done (and it sounded as though he’d wrecked something very big this time) would distract Filch from him and his brother.
Harry stole a glance at his brother, who was focusing on the desk, as he sat down in the chair. With a sigh, Harry looked at the parchment with his name on it. Something dark whispered to take the parchment and run, to leave his brother there alone to face his rightful punishment. It whispered to him that he did do anything wrong, that he hadn’t muddied up the hallway. All Harry had tried to do was rest a little before going to his meeting. Why should he be punished because Haiden and Nick decided to talk right in front of his alcove?
Harry's hand twitched and he gripped the side of the chair to keep himself from reaching out to grab the parchment. He took a deep breath and looked away from the parchment to his brother to see he had a letter in his hand. “It's rude to read other people's letters without permission.”
“It's rude to eavesdrop on someone's private conversation.” Haiden snapped.
“It's not private when you're having it right in front of someone who was there first.” Harry bit out causing Haiden to glare at him.
“Why were you hiding there anyway?” Haiden asked.
“Who said I was hiding?” Harry asked glaring at Haiden.
“If you weren't hiding then what were you doing there?” Haiden asked looking back at the letter as if he was bored of the conversation, and Harry wouldn’t have been surprised if he was.
“Resting.” Harry said softly.
“Why?” Haiden asked trying not to sound interested or concerned.
“You may not have noticed, but I haven't been sleeping well. And the last time this happened I lost control of my magic.” Harry told him and watched when Haiden tossed the letter onto Filch’s desk and turned to look at him.
“Why?” Haiden asked leaning against the desk.
“Why what?” Harry asked.
“Why haven't you been sleeping well?” Haiden asked. Harry watched him for a while trying to see if Haiden really cared to know or if he was trying to waste time.
“Why do you want to know. You didn't seem to care last time.” Harry said remembering that Haiden never visited him when he had lost control of his magic last year.
“Last time I never realized how dangerous it is for someone to lose control of their magic. Even when it was explained to me, I didn’t want to except that you might lose your magic or even die. I didn't want to think about my baby brother dieing, so I denied that it was happening, that you were in the hospital fighting for your life. That's why I never came to see you, even when everyone was trying to convince me to go see you. Even Malfoy tried to knock sense into me.” Haiden said looking ashamed.
“What changed?” Harry asked. Haiden muttered something that Harry couldn't hear while trying to cover it up with a cough. “What was that?”
“Professor Lockhart sat me down and forced me to autograph his pictures while he prattled on about fame or something for detention.” Haiden said.
“And how does that have anything to do with you not visiting me in the hospital?” Harry asked confused.
“For me to block him out I had to think and trust me when I say I was wrong to do not visit you, what if you had died and I never got to see you again? What if-” At this Haiden stopped talking and gulped and Harry knew what was going on and became annoyed. His brother wasn’t doing this because he genuinely felt bad , he was doing it because he didn't want to be blamed .
“-Your wish for me to be dead actually came true?” Harry asked and Haiden froze as if he had been caught.
“Yeah. You know I'm sorry about saying that, you know I didn't mean it. You know I love you, right?” Haiden asked.
“Yeah, I know you love me.” Harry said softly. Just then Filch came back in looking triumphant.
“That vanishing cabinet was extremely valuable.” Filch told Mrs. Norris gleefully. “We'll have Peeves out this time, my sweet-” He paused as his eyes caught Haiden leaning against his desk, his eyes then flew toward the letter on the desk. Filch’s face went brick red and he hobbled over to the desk, picked up the letter and threw it into a drawer. “Have you- Did you read?”
“No.” Harry said quickly, he didn’t want Filch’s fury on him, he would rather get detention for something he had nothing to do with.
“No.” Haiden lied and Filch started twisting his knobbly hands.
“If I thought you’d read my private- not that it's mine- it's for a friend- be that as it may- however-” Harry had never seen Filch so mad. His eyes were popping, a tic was going in one of his pouch cheeks, and the tartan scarf didn’t help. “Very well- go- and don't breath a word- not that- however, if you didn't read- go now, I have to write up Peeves’ report- go!”
Harry didn't need to be told twice, he shot out of the chair and was out the door before Filch had even finished. To escape Filch’s office without punishment had to be a school record, Fred and George would love to her about this. Harry turned a corner and had to stop in shock as he went through a ghost. He turned to apologize because it was very rude to walk through, or in this case run through, a ghost.
“Sorry Nearly Headless Nick.” Harry said.
“Did it work?” Nearly Headless Nick asked.
“Did what work?” Harry asked.
“I convinced Peeves to drop the cabinet above Filch’s office. Thought it might distract him.” Nick said.
“That was you?” Haiden asked from the other side of Nick.
“Uh, yeah, it worked. We didn’t get detention. I'm sorry, don't mean to be rude, but I'm late for a meeting.” Harry said before turning and taking off down the hallway.