Devious Thoughts

Harry had started his sixth at at Hogwarts just like his friends, but

every now and then he would be studying, relaxing, or even sleeping when

powerful emotional fits would overtake him. Dumbledore had explained to

Harry, at the end of his fifth year, about the connection now shared between

himself and Voldermort. Harry could sense Voldermort\'s more powerful

emotions: fear, rage, happiness, and he could also sense when Voldermort

was feeling extraordinarily venomous about something. Visions used to haunt

Harry\'s dreams, showing him graphic images of Voldermort\'s victims. The

visions had stopped once Voldermort had discovered Harry\'s ability to look

through his mind, but sometimes emotions, strong ones, wobleebleed into

Harry\'s system. Now that Harry had returned to Hogwarts, he resumed taking

occlumency lessons. Snape had originally been the one assigned to teach the

art of blocking ones mind to Harry, but now Dumbledore had taken over.

Harry was still having problems, but was making some progress.

He could now block Dumbledore for a little under two minutes. Thru

Dumbledore he had also learned that if the right spell was used with enough

power, his thoughts and actions could be controlled. That was just one of the

reasons it was so important for him to learn occlumency. Dumbledore actually

made Harry tap dance around his office, twice, before he said the counter

spell. Harry had been aware of everything, all of his actions, but he was

completely unable to control himself. It was as if he was watching himself tap

dance around the office. He wanted to tell himself to stop, but he couldn’t. He

remembered the Imperius curse was similar, but Harry had been able to fight

against its derivatives. The Imperius curse implanted a suggestion into your

mind and yet your subconscious could ignore or act upon the persuasion.

Harry\'s mind was strong willed and didn\'t act upon the recommendations given

to him. The difference with the Overium Mindus spell was with this spell, once

the caster had infiltrated the victims mind there was no fighting. They could

take complete control of their victim. Their actions, w, an, and thoughts, but

the victim would be unaware of anything.

Harry was awoken from a deep, peaceful sleep, with a blinding pain

searing across his forehead. He knew what it meant but chose to ignore it. It

was close to four o\'clock in the morning when the throbbing finally subsided,

leaving behind a dull ache. Harry knew that he wouldn\'t be able to fall back

asleep, so he looked around to see if anyone else was beginning to stir. The

rest of the sixth year Gryffindor boys all appeared to be asleep. Ron and

Neville\'s sawing snores could be heard from behind their closed bed curtains.

Dean and Seamus\'s bed curtains were also closed indicating they were still in

slumber land. After determining that his friends were not about to wake any

time soon, Harry decided he wanted some time alone anyways. He got up and

headed for the showers, hoping they were empty. Thankfully, when Harry

entered the bathing room, he found it unoccupied. He quickly undressed and

stepped into one of the stalls. Turning on that water, he felt it cascade around

him. Harry felt the tension he was feeling slowly wash away. He began to

relax, allowing his mind to wander in whichever direction it chose.

Harry began to think about his two best friends, Ron and Hermione. They

had been with him since his first year at Hogwarts, when everything in the

magical world was new to him. The three of them had suffered and survived

all the trials Voldermort had put them through. Focusing on each of his friends

best qualities brought a wayward smile to Harry\'s face. He began to realize

why they were both special to him. Ron was quick tempered and could be a bit

dim wd, bd, but he was loyal and displayed exceptional courage (except when it

came to spiders). Hermione was different though. She, just like Harry, had

been brought up with out magic in her life. She had no link to the magical

world outside her own powers. Both of her parents were muggles, yet

Hermione was easily the best student at Hogwarts. She was intelligent, loyal,

and the only one of them with a level head. She rationalized everything,

looking for faults, finding them usually, and was always coming up with a

logical and probable decision. She brought thought to their actions. Harry

admired Hermione. She was wise beyond her years and possessed an inner

beauty you wouldn\'t see if you didn\'t know her. Harry smiled to himself,

seeing Hermione\'s bushy framing her thoughtful face or when her eyes lit up

when she came to a solution for a problem. Harry felt totally relaxed now. As

the image of her face began to fade, it was replaced with another.

This image was blurry and hard to make out. As this picture began

to come into focus, Harry could clearly make out what appeared to be two

people wrapped in an intimate embrace. Now Harry wasn\'t stupid, being a

sixteen year old boy he had had erotic dreams before, but this puzzled him.

He wasn\'t asleep and in his dreams it was normally himself and some one he

fancied, and it was never blurry. He knew what the two people were doing but

he didn\'t know who they were. He could tell that one was female and one was

male, but couldn\'t make out their faces. The male figure suddenly turned and

looked directly at Harry. Harry realized he was looking at himself, but who was

he with. The female beneath the male, or him, was whimpering and thrashing

about as he was forcefully thrusting into her. Harry could tell the girl was in

pain and he began to feel sorry for her. He had never dreamt anything like

this before. His dreams were always tender and thoughtful, like he wanted the

experience to be special and meaningful. Bringing both participants pleasure

was what his normal dreams were about. This was ferocious and cruel. Harry

wanted to turn away, but part of him wanted to help the woman in his vision.

But how could he, he saw himself forcing the girl. The girl was now crying, she

was being brutally raped. Harry’s breathing became erratic, his heart froze and

formed a limp in his throat, and he wanted to disbelieve his own mind. The

girl was still thrashing about, trying to through her attacker, him, off of her,

when her pain filled face began to come into focus.

Harry felt himself become sick. He fell to his knees, bruising them,

before spilling the contents of his stomach onto the floor. When his vomiting

subsided, Harry sat back and pulled his abused knees up to his chest. He

shivered, but not from being cold. He wrapped his arms around his naked

chest and rocked himself back and forth.

“Why,” he asked himself. “Why would I envision myself raping...

Hermione.”