Dursley Dream

Chapter 9: ROAD TO SANCTITY

    It must have been years before he arrived at what could only be Heaven. This must be what it's like to truly die. Harry's mind was at ease as he lie there, eyes closed. The memories of what happened years earlier were still fresh in his head but they didn't bother him. He could see something white pointed at him through the lid of his eyes. It looked almost surreal as it became brighter and brighter, too bright for living eyes to see. He stared at it and felt the worries wash over him like the water from his first shower after his first death. Harry felt like he was floating on clouds. There was total weightlessness. This must definitely be Heaven and his parents were not far away. Something soft and cold pressed against his forehead. He began to hear heavenly voices. They were faint, but he could hear them.

    The white light faded away and down he fell. He hit something as hard as a rock and the white light became blackness. The heavenly voices sounded scared and the soft and cold object was taken away. Something red was closing in. Something dark and very red. A hot pain pierced his chest. Then it hit his back. He couldn't be going to... Visions of being with his parents faded as quickly as the carelessness of being in Heaven. He dreamed of spending an eternity with evil witches and wizards. Something hard pressed flatly against his entire body. The heat slowly grew as the red grew brighter. The voices turned chaotic as one word shouted loudly in his ear. This word he could make out.

    "HARRY!" Like waking from a long dream, the feeling of Heaven and Hell left him abruptly. His chest grew heavy and it began to rise up and down on it's own. Something heavy fell on him. It lifted as something else long and thin wrapped around his neck. His hearing started to work again. There were so many voices he couldn't make out most of them but there were random muffled yells which he could.

    "Awake? Is he ok?"

    "How long?"

    "What happened!"

    "No!" A drop of water fell on his cheek.

    "Oh, Harry!"

    "Let go, you're hurting him."

    The pressure around his neck was gone.

    "Please, please, please!"

    The voices went on for a long time.

    "Tell me he'll make it!"

    "When's he going to come to?"

    "I've been praying..."

    His head felt very sore and his eyes wouldn't open.

    "It's been a month since that awful day!"

    "Look, he's moving his head!"

    Harry's head twitched. His neck was very stiff.

    "Looks like he's going to be just fine."

    He could hear something banging very rapidly on the floor, it sounded like someone was very happy.

    "I was so worried!"

    His hearing became clearer and he heard more talking.

    "The poor boy..."

    One of the voices came very close to him.

    "Harry, please! Please look at me!"

    He wanted to open his eyes but they wouldn't obey. The voice continued to speak.

    "Look at me!"

    "He moved again!"

    He rolled his head to the other side and back trying to loosen his neck. Feeling started to come back to the rest of his body. He felt his arms and legs, all of which were equally hard to move.

    "He's moving! He's moving!"

    "Look, his arms and legs!"

    His legs were perfectly flat against each other. He moved them out an inch and stopped. His arms lay at his sides and he arched his elbows slightly. Harry heard cheering but wished it would stop because it made his head hurt.

    "Oh, I've been waiting for this!"

    Harry continued to move his arms, legs and neck to try and get the stiffness out but it was all a feeble attempt... the range of movement was very, very small. Someone squealed with delight. He felt like a zoo animal locked up in a cage for everyone to point and look at.

    "If he's awake he probably has a headache. Please, everyone outside except the five of you."

    His eyes started to inch open. Someone was standing over him.

    "Harry!"

    His eyes opened all the way but he had no idea who the girl was standing on top of him.

    "Harry, it's me," she said again.

    He looked up and down her face but still didn't recognize her.

    "Me, Harry, Hermione!"

    The name didn't ring a bell. An old man began to speak.

    "Give it time. He'll be just fine. He's lucky to have survived."

    The girl bent over, kissed him on the cheek and put her arms around his neck for a few seconds. He could no longer bare being stared at like an animal in a zoo and gathered strength to speak.

    "Let me sleep," said Harry in a very faint voice. All twelve eyes turned to look at him and he looked back at them. With all his strength, he turned himself over on his stomach. His entire body was sore. "Please."

    "Come on, let's leave him," said the girl.

    Harry's heavy eyes fell under their own weight and he was back in a state of carelessness.

    Harry dreamed for a long time. He dreamed about past events that he thought might have happened to him. He remembered he had two parents and they died to some green light. Somehow he got a scar and was dropped off at his aunt an uncle's house. He remembered dearly despising their treatment of him. Dreams came by of his life as he was tortured by his cousin Dudley and his great surprise to find out he was a wizard on his eleventh birthday. Occasionally he would wake up from the dreams and some woman brought him a strange cup to drink from and but he would just go back to sleep. None of it made any sense.

    Finally, Harry's thoughts started to collect. He had a dream about his aunt and uncle. They were down in a pit and Harry happened to walk by to hear their screaming. He floated down and saw something white threatening them. He said without thinking, "Expecto Patronus!" and something pearly white scared the figure away. The figure dropped a black box laden with gold trimmings which sparkled in the sunlight above him. He walked over to the box and opened it. Words flew out of the box and into him. He stood there. It didn't look like they would ever stop coming but eventually it did and he woke up in a cold sweat breathing heavily.

    Harry's memory fully returned. It was morning and Professor Dumbledore was sitting next to him.

    "I was wondering when you'd wake up." Harry tried to sit up but his muscles wouldn't let him. "Easy, Harry. Lay down. There's an awful lot to tell you."

    "I only have one question, Professor." Harry picked his head up, still laying on his back.

    "And that is?"

    "What happened?" He let his head drop, closed his eyes and gave a weak smile waiting for the long explanation. Dumbledore took a deep breath.

    "I'm afraid I told you somewhat of a lie. Hermione found out some things but it would appear she didn't get a chance to tell you." Harry opened his eyes and put all his attention on Dumbledore. "That glitter, that you already know is the Mark of Ancients. They were an unbelievably strong group of wizards noted by their glittering skin. Theirs, of course, always glittered. Yours only glitters when you feel threatened. No one knows how to control it, such knowledge was lost in time. When it quickly fades, it is not disappearing, it has peaked in strength and saves the wizard from mortality. In short, without it, Voldemort would have killed you the first time." Harry gulped. "It must have been with you all along. You should have told someone."

    "It was. I felt it when I first Disapparated but I thought it was too strange to tell anyone."

    "Understandable. It's been known to disappear on it's own and never come back. If suddenly you find yourself without it, well, let's hope that situation never arises." As if by instict, Harry glittered as bright as ever and abruptly vanished leaving a white glow on his skin. Dumbledore stumbled for words. "That, Harry, is the Mark at it's absolute peak. That white glow means you're able to control it," and he grinned broadly. Harry turned the white glow back into sparkle, to nothing, to sparkle then back to white glow. Dumbledore looked very pleased. "Ancient magic is very powerful, but also very deadly if not controlled carefully." He stood up and walked toward the door. "Please, Harry, use it carefully. Now come, the first-years are waiting to get a look at you!"

    "But, I thought --"

    "What you thought you saw was merely an illusion." Dumbledore walked back over to Harry. "From the moment you thought Hermione told you to come into the Great Hall to the moment you were knocked out by Voldemort, it was all in your head. I happened to walk by this room and hear you talking. I knew you couldn't possibly have come-to already, it was only one day. I caught foresight with you. Voldemort had been manipulating you with his own foresight as he had been all along. From the very first nightmare you had since the start of summer vacation up until the last vision you had where I transformed into Voldemort, all that other stuff, and then you found me passed out. There were only three true parts of that last one. One of them was you getting knocked back and forth between two walls. We thought that would kill you, but the Mark prevented it.

    "You probably also want to know what Voldemort tried to do to you that day in the forest when you went back for Ron's parents. He attempted an ancient ritual to get the Mark from your blood into his. It succeeded. The other true part of the last dream was the spell you casted to remove the Mark from Voldemort. Your own blood poured out right on top of you, glittering as your skin does." He let out a cautious laugh. "We thought Voldemort had done something to you. Fortunately, Hermione realized what it was. An amazing thing, that girl.

    "The last true part is that you did send him somewhere and we don't know where that is. That's probably good because chances are he doesn't either. And lastly, Ron's parents and your aunt and uncle are all perfectly fine. They Apparated directly in here as soon as your blood stopped pouring... whatever magic Voldemort had been using, he lost control of it." He walked back to the door. "The Sorting ceremony is to start soon, come!"

    Harry beamed with a smile almost too big for his face. Forgetting he was sore and hurt all over, he jumped out of bed and changed his clothes with a snap of his fingers. Dumbledore walked out and Harry chased after him. Finally, he thought to himself, it's over, and only the good is left. He left his skin glowing white just to show off for all the eyes to gaze at.

    Harry opened the doors with a wave of his hands. As he expected, every single person, including Malfoy, stood up and looked at him. The gazes were as if they never saw something so awe-inspiring. Harry kept a giggle under his breath. He knew he was showing off, but he didn't care. The eyes felt like eagles. There were whispers among all the murmuring.

    "Look at him. He's... glowing?"

    "Is that Harry Potter?"

    "It's Potter!"

    Dumbledore smiled at Harry as he walked in. He spotted Ron and Hermione and took a seat across from them. Professor McGonagall began to speak.

    "When I call your name... you will come forth... I shall place the Sorting Hat on your head and you will be sorted into your houses."

    She called name after name but Harry was too busy conjuring small fireballs to float up at the ceiling. At long last, he caught glance of Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. They glanced back at him, half-smiling. If Dumbledore forced them to come, or they came on their own free will was anyone's guess. As Professor McGonagall finished calling names, the fireballs moved themselves into a word. It spelled "Welcome."

    This was going to be a good year. Harry Potter was no longer a famous name, he was a famous wizard.