It's Just Pain
Every day seemed to intensify the sickness for Grey. Now, he was dealing with nausea and vomiting on top of the other symptoms but he continued to suppress his visions. Luckily, the new developments gave him an excuse to keep up his pretence for Richard.
During charms, when a nasty bout of nausea hit him, Grey escaped the lesson, feigning a headache to Richard and hurrying to the nearest toilets to be sick. When he'd finished vomiting, Grey decided to head up to his dormitory to catch a nap instead of going to ancient runes. He wouldn't have to explain to Richard because it was the one lesson they didn't share. Then he could just make up some bullshit about some meaningless event to satisfy his friend.
It was a perfect plan. Until it wasn't.
The downside of being ill was Grey's senses were not as attuned as usual. He there, therefore, failed to notice the sound of a door opening behind him.
"Everything alright, Grey?"
He froze at the sound of Dumbledore's voice. His professor had been consistently questioning him after transfiguration lessons about his lack of visions and Grey had been acting masterfully oblivious.
"Why aren't you in class?" Dumbledore questioned calmly.
"I'm retrieving a book from the library, sir," He replied, but his voice sounded incredibly hoarse, most likely from the vomiting.
He turned, offering Dumbledore a polite smile but his professor didn't look convinced.
"You look ill Grey." Dumbledore observed with undeniable concern, "Why don't you come into my office for a moment."
It didn't sound like a request. Grey reluctantly trudged into the professor's office and descended into the chair offered to him. Dumbledore offered him a glass of water but he declined, not trusting his stomach.
"Are you sure you shouldn't be in the hospital wing?" The professor noted.
"I'm fine, sir."
"I thought we had moved past the lying."
Grey cast his eyes down to the floor at his words.
"Charlie told me you'd been into the hospital wing a few days ago. He was under the impression that his remedy helped." He continued.
But Grey remained silent, desperate for Dumbledore not to work out the truth as quickly as Richard. It was a foolish wish.
"I'm presuming it didn't work?"
Grey shook his head, too tired to meet Dumbldore's eyes.
"You haven't had a vision in over a month Grey," His teacher stated sullenly.
The words sunk into Grey's chest like lead.
"I know, sir,"
"And do you know why?" Retorted Dumbledore.
Grey almost wished he'd be angry. The gentle words and eyes full of concern were so unfathomable to him. He considered lying to Dumbledore but it seemed like such a pointless effort at his point.
"I know why," He responded quietly, for every word scratched his throat.
The silence informed him that Dumbledore was waiting for an explanation. He presumed this was the case because he had not yet looked back at the man. So hesitantly, he tried to explain in as few words as possible.
"I don't want to see any more death, so I stopped myself seeing."
He swayed slightly as another wave of nausea washed over him.
"How?" Dumbledore uttered softly.
"I swallow it," Grey shrugged, "When a headache comes I force it back down."
"Can't you see, feel what you're doing to yourself?" The professor muttered.
"It's just pain."
He could almost feel the weight of Dumbledore's dumbfounded silence, following his blatantly uttered statement.
"It's just pain?" He repeated in a horrified tone.
Venturing to look up at Dumbledore, Grey witnessed the deepest expression of shocked anxiety on his teacher's face. As much as he tried, he couldn't understand how his statement had produced such a concerned reaction. It wasn't a riddle, just plainly stated. Did Dumbledore misunderstand him? His confusion must have bled to his features because the professor steeled his expression, pulling over a chair to sit in front of him.
"Why do you look so confused?" Dumbledore asked more calmly.
Once again, Grey briefly contemplated lying but for this question, all he could think about was the truth. He was so tired that no lie even formulated in his mind. Yet the anxiety of telling the truth felt like it has sealed his lips shut.
But Dumbledore waited patiently.
"I suppose," He forced shakily, "I am struggling to understand why, like now, you are always so concerned about me and the things I say."
He chewed his cheek to comfort him after speaking.
"I'm concerned because I care about you, Grey," Dumbledore explained simply.
But Grey just frowned.
"I, uh, I don't understand why you care about me." He admitted, still hesitantly.
It was the truth and the fact he'd spoken it terrified him. He expected his teacher to be angry at his brutality but Dumbledore just seemed saddened by his words. A look of understanding mingled with the sadness also.
"Oh Grey," He sighed, "I am sorry for how much the world has let you down."
Even more confused, Grey opened his mouth to speak, to explain that the world hadn't let him down but Dumbledore spoke again before he had the chance.
"I want you to listen to me carefully alright?"
Grey nodded.
"I don't know what the people running the orphanage did to you, but I need you to know that very few people are like them." He paused, surveying him but Grey's expression was blank.
His insides were raging with fear though.
"I have no intention of hurting you," Dumbledore continued, speaking very clearly, "I want you to be well and happy. I don't want you to be in pain. I feel glad when you do well and sad for you when you are hurting. And I want to help you and comfort you as best I can."
As he finished, the words settled into Grey's mind. Dumbledore's explanation was so different from what he had been believing, so tentatively, he asked his question.
"And that's what caring is?"
A small yet melancholy smile passed across Dumbledore's face.
"Yes," He confirmed.
"Oh."
His whole idea of living had been uprooted. The matrons told him that their treatment was care, that they had caused him pain because it was their duty of care.
But Dumbledore was wiser than them.
Betrayal and anger muddled inside him and his throat tightened painfully. It made sense now. He'd always understood personally caring for others, like with Richard and Derric, but he always presumed he was the weird one for experiencing 'Care' in that way, for not wishing pain upon them. But Dumbledore was saying that was the normal way. He was surprised to find tears springing to his eyes.
"They lied to me," He whispered, half to himself and half to his professor.
Tears began to fall and the lump in his throat made him cough suddenly.
"The people at the orphanage?" Dumbledore asked cautiously.
Overwhelmed by his feelings, Grey didn't care about his secrets anymore.
"They said," He gasped frantically, "They said they were hurting me because they had a duty of care."
Every word lacerated his throat as tears obscured his vision.
"I thought that meant I deserved pain. I deserve pain, that's what it meant. I needed to hurt. I'm so confused." He stammered.
He wanted to dig his nails into his palms but was that wrong? Was burning his arms wrong? Everything was crumbling around him.
All of a sudden, through his panicked, breathless haze, he felt warm hands cupping his face. They were gentle and somehow brought him back to the room.
"Listen to me," Dumbledore ordered soothingly, still holding his face, "You don't deserve pain. You didn't deserve anything they did to you or said to you."
Reaching up, Grey desperately clasped at Dumbledore's steady hands, trying to ground himself more.
"Then why did they do it?" He whimpered.
The professor surveyed him with such sympathy.
"Because they were terrible people." He sighed.
Grey nodded frantically, trying his best to understand. But it was difficult to try to rebuild your belief system so quickly. Dumbledore released his face but kept hold of his hands comfortingly. Grey wondered if he was concerned that he might hurt himself. The idea was tempting, but so much of him was hurting already that it didn't feel necessary.
"Do you understand why I am so worried about what suppressing your visions is doing to you?" Dumbledore continued.
"I understand."
He paused to cough again.
"I just, I hate seeing it all. I worry if I see too much I won't be able to take it and I'll break, for good." He admitted.
"You won't break. With time and practice it's possible to control your visions instead of them controlling you."
Something Grey hadn't felt since receiving his Hogwarts letter ignited in him at Dumbledore's words - hope.
"Really?" He questioned anxiously.
"Yes, really. But if you keep pushing them down, you're only going to get more ill, until that inevitably breaks you." He added.
Grey felt stuck.
Did he trust Dumbledore and that alien feeling of hope or his instincts? Then again, hadn't he just learnt that some of his instincts were wrong? It was time for change.
"Ok." He muttered.
A genuine smile broke across Dumbledore's face and he let go of Grey's hands, cupping the side of his face again.
"I'm really proud of you Grey."
Warmth filled him at Dumbledore's words and a real smile rose to his lips too.
"Thank you," He stated firmly.
He was going to change. He was going to care. People cared about him and they wanted him to be content and well. So Grey decided to make them proud.
Though he still felt very sick, Grey thanked Dumbledore again and hurried from his office. He had an hour and forty-five minutes until the end of lessons for that day so he made the decision to go back to Ravenclaw and have a quick nap. Then he could meet Richard and catch up with his studies in the library after classes.
When the time came to meet Richard, he had planned what he was going to say. It was terrifying but after today's revelation, he had to go for it. Entering the library was as nerve-wracking as being brought into the great hall for the sorting as a first year. Grey's heart was beating so loudly that he half expected Madame Lovegood to scold him for the noise.
Upon his approach, Richard spotted him and gave a smile. He looked as if he wanted to speak so Grey dived into his planned speech without a moment's hesitation.
"Don't say anything, I need to tell you something. I want you to know that I care for you very much. I want you to be happy and succeed in life and not be mistreated by others. I will always do what I can to help you. I know times are hard at the moment but I will always be here for you because I care about you so much." He barely took a breath as he spoke.
His voice was still hoarse but Grey prayed the emotion came across how he intended. He dared to look at Richard.
The Slytherin was clearly astounded by his outburst. But the shock quickly faded and Richard rose from his chair. Grey braced himself for whatever came next. But his friend just stepped forward and wrapped him in a tight hug which Grey immediately returned.
"I care about you very much too, Grey," Richard whispered warmly.
If anyone had asked him to, Grey was sure he could have produced a corporeal Patronus right there and then. They embraced for what felt like several minutes and when they parted, reluctance was noticeable from both of them. Retaking their seats, Richard passed him a blank sheet of parchment.
"Unfortunately for both of us, Elks set a twelve-inch essay on Magical Theory."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As it turned out, Grey didn't have to wait long to stop suppressing his visions. Two days later, conveniently during his afternoon transfiguration class, the familiar sensation of a vision headache was creeping up the back of his skull. The lesson was due to end very shortly, so riddled with anxiety, Grey waited. Despite his every instinct, he did not swallow it down.
When the bell rang, and everyone began gathering their things, he remained seated. Richard sent him a quizzical look so Grey just tapped his head. His friend nodded sympathetically, patting Grey in reassurance as he passed.
Dumbledore noticed Grey's presence while the class filed out of the room. Once the last student had exited, he strolled over, hands in his pockets.
"Everything alright?" He inquired with a friendly smile.
Grey glanced at him with anxious eyes.
"Headache, sir," He muttered.
A knowing look befell Dumbledore's face.
"Hold on a moment, let me just dismiss my second years," He said, hurriedly leaving the classroom.
In his absence, Grey began mentally preparing for what he knew was coming, when an idea struck him. Richard was convinced his visions were always prompted by a topic, so what if he could purposely direct the vision's focus? It wouldn't hurt to try, he had everything to gain from succeeding and nothing to lose if he was wrong.
Dumbledore reentered as these thoughts crossed his mind. The professor hastened to Grey's side.
"Are you feeling alright?" He asked.
"I'm going to try something," Grey stated blankly.
As his hope increased, the sickness began to fade, aside from the headache. Dumbledore on the other hand looked very worried at his statement.
"Grey-"
"It's ok, I'll explain after." Insisted Grey, cutting off his teacher's warning.
In the silence, he focused all his thoughts on the glimpses of the house he'd been seeing in his dreams.
The pain flared. The world faded.
As the sun pours into the little living room, a young lady rests in the simple armchair.
She is pregnant.
The portraits on the walls smile down at her. She is beautiful but visibly tired.
She waves her wand and a tea tray hovers over to her. The pot is empty.
"Artagan?" She calls.
A tall blonde man enters the room, wearing a smile.
"Arty, could you please make another pot?" She asks gently.
"Of course my love,"
He takes the floating tea tray.
They are a happy, content young couple.
The day wears on in a blink of an eye.
It's early evening, both hurry into the little living room looking more anxious.
"Esme, you have to hide." Artagan insists frantically.
There's a crash from the hall.
Both run out of sight to investigate.
Silence.
Then the walls explode inwards.
Exhausted, disorientated yet triumphant, Grey stumbled into reality. All his sickness faded with the vision and he felt better than he had in weeks.
His plan had worked!
Dumbledore was still at his side, already holding out a glass of water. Grey graciously excepted it, glad to drink without wanting to vomit. When he was done, he placed down the cup and turned to Dumbledore with an accomplished smile.
"It worked." He exclaimed proudly.
His professor's face still held concern.
"What did?"
"Well," Grey began breathlessly, then paused, remembering he couldn't let Dumbledore know that Richard was in on his secret.
"I realized that my other visions seemed to be prompted by things, so I wondered if I could possibly direct the focus of the vision and it worked." He beamed.
He felt guilty taking credit for Richard's idea but he couldn't risk his friend being obliviated.
"That's incredible!" Dumbledore exclaimed, still clearly trying to fathom Grey's positive demeanour, "Quite incredible, ten points to Ravenclaw. I'm proud you managed that."
Happiness engulfed him at Dumbledore's words.
"What, may I ask, did you direct your foresight to?" Dumbledore added curiously.
"My last vision ended with that house exploding and I've been really worried about it since so I focused on that and I saw much more. Two wizards live there, Artagan and Esme. They look in their late twenties and Esme is pregnant. We can find them, warn them." Grey ranted.
"I can certainly make enquires," Agreed Dumbledore with a smile, "Very well done, Grey. This is excellent progress towards control." He added.
Hope swelled in Grey.
"Thank you, sir."
"I'll just need to take the memory then you can be on your way. I'd recommend resting instead of attending your next class."
Grey nodded and kept still as Dumbledore took the memory of the vision.
"Thanks again, sir," Grey smiled as he gathered his things.
But as he left the classroom, Grey noticed Dumbledore observing him with a familiar look. The distant sad expression he'd witnessed several times in the past, only now it was directed at him. It was baffling, to say the least.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At dinner that night, Grey filled Richard in on everything that had happened.
"-so I focussed, and it worked. Your theory was right." He whispered.
A hopeful smile broke across Richard's face.
"I'm really glad," He stated, "So what was your vision about?"
Grey, who had already wolfed down his shepherd's pie, launched into a hushed but detailed description of everything he'd seen. The Slytherin listened attentively. Once he'd finished, Richard look thoughtful.
"What accents did the couple have" He questioned.
Grey hadn't even thought of that but it was a genius point.
"Scottish, I think," He answered without processing what he was saying.
But when it hit him, his stomach dropped.
"You don't think they could live near or in Hogsmeade do you?" He muttered.
"It's certainly possible."
The two boys looked gravely at their pudding.
"I'll tell Dumbledore tomorrow," Grey mumbled.
Thinking of Dumbledore, something else rose to mind - that strange trinket. Perhaps he could research it in the library later. When he'd mentioned it to Richard, he told him that he'd never heard of such a thing. It was a long shot, but maybe the library would have some answers.
But Grey still went to bed irritated that night. As it turned out, the library of all places, had nothing.