Mind Meld

I do not own anything HP related. It all belongs to JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Inc., Warner Bros., and any other entities involved.


Harry took a deep breath, as much from lack of air as to fortify himself to face the Dursley's. Turning to where he knew they were, and headed towards them. His Uncle Vernon was glaring at Harry. Dudley was smirking. That didn't bode well. When Dudley smirked at Harry, he knew something was bad. Trailing behind them, he loaded his bags into the car.

They no sooner got into the house when Harry found out what happened. Dudley started snickering almost at the same moment that Uncle Vernon started yelling.

"OWLS! Delivering MAIL! Telling me that you have been fighting. And that no-good murdering god-father of yours is dead! That school is nothing but trouble." The yelling kept going on. Harry tuned out his uncle. He didn't want to hear any more. The only thing he had for protection was gone. As long as the Dursley's had believed that he had a godfather that was a murderer, he could live pretty free. Now...Harry sighed.

Finally Uncle Vernon seemed to be wearing down. "Can I go to my room now?" He asked, interrupting his uncle's tirade when it became obvious he was only stopping for breath. Not waiting for an answer, he headed to the bedroom. He set Hedwig's cage in the corner and barely dragged his trunk through the door. He heard the lock clicking behind him and sighed. It was going to be a long summer. Locked up again. At least he would be alone.

He lay on the bed and stared up at the ceiling.

"OW!" Harry sat bolt upright in bed. His face stung! Gingerly he touched his cheek and looked around the room. It felt like his cheek was swelling but he could feel that it wasn't. He went to his trunk and pulled out one of the shards of mirror that was in the bottom. Looking in the mirror he couldn't see anything unusual, but his cheek still hurt. It felt rather like Dudley had punched him, but without the bruising.

Testing his jaw, Harry began to look around the room in earnest. He really hoped it wasn't another creature, like Dobby trying to get in to talk to him. After searching through all Dudley's broken stuff, his closet and under the furniture, he finally gave up and lay back on the bed.

Finally, bored, he fell asleep, his cheek still throbbing. His dreams were once again a strange mix. He recalled being carried through Knockturn Alley, his face hidden in his father's shoulder. He was yelling at him to quit showing fear or he would leave him there to find his own way out.

HPDMHPDMHPDMHPDMHPDMHPDMHPDMHPDM

He mulled the thought in his head for a bit before discovering that he was hungry. He looked out the window and saw that it was fairly late. The sky was dark outside and he went to the door to see if they had given him any food. Nothing. Harry went back to his trunk and pulled out a box of Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans. He wondered to himself if meat pie jelly beans could actually count as a balanced meal.

As he sat on his bed and stared at the ceiling his thoughts drifted back to Sirius. He wondered if he could just go back to sleep so he wouldn't have to think about Sirius. Silently in his head he started to name off the different Quiddich teams and various plays. When he ran out of them, he started going over famous games. Anything to stomp out thoughts of Sirius. Finally, he drifted off to sleep.

Once again, strange dreams disturbed his sleep. They felt more like memories trying to make themselves known. Of his father, his mother, strange people, places. When Harry woke, he felt even more confused. He couldn't understand the dreams. They didn't feel like Voldemort dreams, his scar didn't hurt for one thing.

What else could they be? His parents couldn't possibly have taken him to Knockturn Alley. They were dead by the time that memory had occurred, weren't they? And Harry couldn't have ridden a broom. He was too young when his parents were alive, and the Dursleys would have locked him in his room for all his childhood years if he had tried.

Harry had decided to ask Sirius about it when the thought hit hard, he wouldn't be able to. Never again could he ask Sirius about his parents. He felt the loss cutting through him, the razor edge of pain. The knowledge that not only had he lost his godfather, someone like a father to him, but the person that was also closest to his father. One who answered his questions with honesty and love. Once again Harry felt like he had lost his parents.

He felt the deep, almost overwhelming despair. It drove him to his knees. Tears filled his eyes but he refused to let them fall. He focused on the face of Bellatrix Lestrange. Rage began to seep through him obscuring his grief. His drew the anger and hatred of Snape in his mind next. Followed by the vision of Lucius Malfoy.

For some reason he didn't understand the picture in his mind of Malfoy seemed to also cause fear. He paused in his contemplations. Fear? Why would he be afraid of Lucius Malfoy? Three times he had faced him down. Three times Malfoy had lost in conflict to Harry. He felt himself start to shake and quickly changed his train of thought.

Hedwig began to make herself noticed. She gave him a soft hoot of displeasure. Harry looked over at her.

"Sorry girl," he apologized. "They haven't even fed me yet. I don't have anything to give you." She turned her back to him in annoyance.

Just then he heard the key in the lock. Aunt Pentunia was at the door letting him out for a brief time to use the bathroom. When he got back he noticed the small tray that she was holding of food. A small bowl of cereal and a quarter of grapefruit. 'Well, it was more than what I got last time I was locked up,' he thought.

He took the tray from her and headed into his room. "The Weasleys are coming to pick me up on August 1st," he said as he walked in. His tone wasn't one of asking permission. He didn't wait for a response as he walked to his desk and set down the tray. He heard the door lock behind him but didn't look up from eating.

After he was sure she was gone, he took a small amount of the cereal to Hedwig. She picked at the food with a disgusted look at Harry.

Harry lay back on his bed. He stared up at the ceiling. Deliberately he kept his mind blank. If he didn't think, then he wouldn't accidentally think about... He began to count the tiles on the ceiling. Before too long, he drifted off to sleep.

Suddenly he woke, filled with fear. He didn't know what the cause was. Harry looked around the room. Hedwig was sleeping quietly, undisturbed. Harry went to the window trying to see outside. The cold fear that filled his body was beyond anything he could remember. He curled up into a ball on his bed. Slowly he started rocking. There was nothing to cause this kind of fear. He didn't even feel this fear when he faced Voldemort. Suddenly he felt a sharp pain across his back. He yelled out with the shock. The pain was joined by another across his chest. Then his legs, his back again. The pain was so intense he didn't even realize he had been screaming.

"What is wrong with you boy!" hollered his Uncle Vernon. Harry opened his eyes to see him staring at him. His uncle's face was bright red with fury.

"I don't know," Harry gasped. He yelled again when it felt like a foot had connected solidly with his chest. He swore loudly and glared at his uncle. "You broke a rib!" he tried to yell at his uncle but realized it couldn't possibly be him. He was too far away, and backing away further. The look on his uncle's face was disgust and fear.

"This is what happens when you mess with that freaky magic!" his uncle yelled. His face was bright red. He turned, grabbed Harry's wand from the dresser and slammed the door behind him.

Harry writhed on the bed in pain. He felt like his whole body was a large bruise. Slowly he peeled up his shirt. Nothing. No bruises, no marks. He ran a hand along his ribs feeling for the broken bone. Nothing. Everything was as it should be. Except for the intense pain.

For two days he lay curled on his bed, barely able to move. He dragged himself out of bed whenever his aunt came to let him use the bathroom. Carefully and with pride he walked back and forth, not showing any sign of pain. By the time he got back to the room and the door locked behind him he barely had energy enough to collapse on the bed. He couldn't eat so he just grabbed enough food to give Hedwig and left the rest.

Finally, the third day, Harry realized the pain was almost bearable. When his aunt let him out this day, he didn't almost bite through his lip to hold back the pain. On his way back to the room he glared into his aunt's eyes. He saw a flicker of something in her eyes, but couldn't identify it before it was gone again.

That afternoon he found the tray again. There was half of the normal amount of food on the tray. First he gave Hedwig some food, then gobbled up what was left, being careful with his arm. He knew there was nothing bruised or broken, but it felt like it. He didn't want to risk renewing the pain.

Several days passed before he could move freely without fear of the pain. Even his rib felt like it had healed completely. His meals however remained small. When he complained his uncle informed him that if he couldn't eat his meals properly they weren't going to waste food on him. Harry wondered how long he could feed both him and Hedwig on the meager portions they were feeding him. He tried to hold out on the snacks he had stored in the trunk, limiting himself to just a small amount each day. After a couple days he made a large pile on the bed, counted the days until August 1 and then began to separate the piles, creating a daily ration.

He realized later just how hungry he must be when he bit into a rotten egg jelly bean and realized that he barely noticed the flavor, finishing it off quickly and taking the small piece of chocolate frog he had for today. With bitterness he realized that none of this would have been an issue if not for Malfoy starting that damn fight.

'Bloody Fucking Malfoy!' his mind screamed.

'POTTER!?!' came the immediate response. Harry jumped an started looking around his room for Draco Malfoy. The voice was loud and seemed to come from nearby.

'What the fuck are you playing at now Malfoy!?' he thought in fury when he realized that no one was in there.

'ME! I'm not the one that just started yelling at someone in their own home, their own mind,' Malfoy's voice was loud and clear. This time Harry recognized that the voice seemed to be from within his head.

'What the hell are you talking about?' he thought.

'You just cussed me out. I thought I was losing my mind,' replied Malfoy. 'On second thought, hearing voices really isn't a good thing. I must be losing my mind.' Harry could hear the doubt in Malfoy's voice.

Harry snickered at the echo of his own second year conversation. 'Sod off Potter. This really isn't funny.'

'Sure it is. Draco Bloody Malfoy doubting his sanity. I always doubted it. Just nice to know you are catching up.' Harry couldn't believe he was having a THOUGHT conversation with Draco.

‘Piss off’ came the response. Harry ignored the voice.

Silence reigned for about an hour. Finally he heard ‘I don't get it.’

‘Me either.’ Harry knew Malfoy must be thinking what he was. ‘Why you? And why not all the time?’

‘Bloody hell! It must have been that...whatever in Potions!’ Harry could hear the dismay in Malfoy.

‘Whatever it is, it seems we only hear if we are focusing towards each other. So that means we should be able to just IGNORE each other!’ Harry said back, maliciously.

‘Fine by me!’ Malfoy snapped.

Several hours passed. Harry passed time by counting the specks on the ceiling.

‘Potter?’ came a tentative voice.

‘What?’ Harry tried to work up anger at being bugged by Malfoy, but found he was too bored. Any interruption was welcome. Maybe a good argument with Malfoy and he could have enough anger to keep him entertained for the rest of the evening. Maybe if it was good enough, he wouldn't be bored for the next . . .two weeks.

‘I'm really bored. And strangely, hungry. Even though I just ate.’ There was a certain amount of confusion in Malfoy's voice.

Harry's stomach growled loudly. He searched for the allotment of snacks he had for today. A thought occurred to him.

‘Malfoy?’ he knew he was very tentative in his query. Silence. He sense Malfoy was waiting for him to continue.

‘Did.. I mean, Do you…’ Harry didn't know how to go on.

‘Oh geez, your thoughts are as bad as your mouth. Finish a damn thought,’ came the response.

Harry felt slightly angry and so he just let the thought go. ‘Did you get beaten?’

‘What! Of course not.’ Harry didn't think he believed him. To prove his point he walked to the desk and punched it hard. The pain shot up his arm.

‘OW! DAMN! What the HELL was that!’ Malfoy voice rang extremely loud in his head. A string of curses followed, some rather inventive and new to Harry, despite Ron's rather foul mouth.

‘I punched a desk.’ He replied, when there was a pause.

‘Why the hell would you do an idiotic thing like that. Wait!’ Harry could sense what was occurring to Malfoy. ‘So, if you punched a desk and it hurt me then…’ he didn't finish the thought.

‘Then I couldn't move for three days because I felt like I had broken ribs and every inch of me felt black and blue.’ This thought was accompanied by more than a small amount of bitterness. Especially since his food was cut way back as a result.

‘Oh.’ Malfoy's tone was rather subdued and thoughtful. ‘I thought it felt, less painful.’ There was a pause.

‘But wait, I still felt it, so you must still have felt the desk thing.’ Harry rubbed his hand.

‘Yeah. It did. But I made my point,’ there was a definite smirk in Harry's voice.

‘Jackass’ The insult didn't seem to carry much heat.

Harry started picking at the food he had gotten. He felt his stomach growl again. Quickly he ate the small pile, not stopping to taste the food, hoping Malfoy wouldn't put together the pieces.

Hope that was in vain. ‘You are starving!’ came the indignant voice.

Sigh. ‘Yes.’ Harry didn't expand on his answer. He knew it was pointless to hope Malfoy would get the hint.

‘Why don't you get some food? This hunger is driving me nuts!’ the tone was petulant.

‘Because I'm locked up damnit!’ The thought escaped Harry before he could control it.

There was silence and Harry waited for the taunting that he expected. He had given Malfoy something way too much to let it go.

‘Me too.’ The response shocked Harry.

‘Why?’ he asked. He waited for a response.

‘Fighting with you. Same thing?’ Harry pondered that.

‘No. Well, sorta. It's confusing. Dumbledore Owled my aunt and uncle about the fight. He mentioned that Si..my .. the death. He was the reason they left me alone the last couple summers.’ Harry wasn't about to talk about (er, think about?) Sirius with Malfoy.

‘Oh. If they hate you so much, why do you go back to them? Why didn't you go with your godfather?’ Harry knew that Malfoy had a right to be curious, but he didn't want to answer the questions.

‘Why should I tell you? So you can run to your Death Eater daddy and friends and share everything?’ He knew he was being nasty and he didn't care.

'Screw you.' The nastiness was back in Malfoy.

Harry reached over and turned off the light. He rolled over to go to sleep.

'Potter?' Harry ignored him. Three more times Malfoy called his name before giving up.

He lay in bed for some time. He couldn't fall asleep. He felt guilty. 'Sorry' he thought.

'Goodnight.' With a small smile, Harry rolled over and fell asleep. Somehow, tonight he didn't feel so alone. Not so afraid.