Post by Sensiblyquirky on Oct 14, 2004 0:01:02 GMT -5
It probably isn't drama, but alas I'm putting it here.
A peaceful quiet had blanketed Grimmauld Place this evening. All the inhabitants of the house were safely tucked in their beds, and only the beams of the moon pierced the darkness. The peace, rarely found during this time of war, was not to last long for while many occupants were deep within pleasant dreams one boy, no young man, was not.
Sweat had started to appear on his forehead while he tossed in his sleep. His brow was furrowed against the pain while a peculiar scar burned bright red. In a manner of seconds the movements of the young man had changed. His tossing turned to thrashing, and his sighs into screams. A pain beyond anything he had ever felt before ripped at his head, threatening to tear it apart.
Minerva McGonagall awoke with a start. Even without her feline characteristics Minerva could have heard those screams. Bolting to her door she did not even bother repining her hair, or slipping on her dressing gown.
The rest of the house was up as well, and by the time Minerva got to Harry's room. Molly was trying to soothe him. A cold sensation gripped at Minerva's heart, as she watched the young man whimper in pain. The only coherent words coming from this mouth being, “Make it stop...please...stop.”
Minerva quickly moved to his side, “Molly could you move back please.”
Nodding wordlessly Molly moved away from the bed taking Ron and Hermione with her.
Minerva had only preformed this spell once before, and that was over fifty years ago, but she knew it was the only way to end his suffering. Taking a deep breath Minerva placed her cool hand over Harry's scar and began to speak in Gaelic.
The order members watched in awe as a gust of wind blew into the room making Minerva's hair fly out behind her. They noticed that during the spell a remarkable change was taking place in both Minerva and Harry: while Harry grew calmer and better, Minerva grew much worse.
If anyone had been facing Minerva they would have gasped in horror as blood began seeping from her stunning wounds. A moment more, and Minerva slumped down beside of Harry weak from the pain.
No one moved till Harry spoke, “Professor...Ron...Mrs. Weasley, why is Professor McGonagall in my bed?”
Molly stepped forward gently removing Minerva's hand from Harry's forehead, but before she could speak Molly noticed that an imprint of Harry's scar seemed to be burned into Minerva's hand.
“;Mrs. Weasly what happened.” Harry tried again.
“I-I'm not sure, Harry dear, but I think right now we need to help Professor McGonagall. Are you alright?” When Harry nodded that he was Molly turned to her husband, “Arthur did you reach Dumbledore?”
“I sent Fred to get him, Molly. I would have thought he would have been here by now.” Right on cue Albus Dumbledore came racing into the room not stopping before he reached Minerva's side.
Looking quickly up to Harry he noticed he appeared to be fine. Turning to Molly he asked sharply, “What spell did she use?”
“I don't know Dumbledore, but it was a different language.”
A softer but confident voice spoke up, “It was Gaelic, Headmaster.”
“Thank you Ms. Granger,” Albus quickly, but easily, turned Minerva over and closed his eyes slowly against the image of her chest. “Bear Aacid,” he whispered to himself.
“Professor,” Harry began but Dumbledore cut him off, “Harry I will answer your questions later, I need to treat your Head of House. May I use your bed?”
Harry quickly moved out of bed to stand beside of Ron. Strange he thought to himself he always felt dizzy after an episode with his scar, and he felt as if he had never had one.
Every person in the room had only seen Professor Dumbledore's extraordinary magical talent and abilities a few times in their lives. When questioned later all agreed that he had never operated so quickly and so well, almost to the point of perfection, as he did that night as he worked to heal his Deputy.
The room was eerily silent as they awaited their Professor's fate, but soon it was broken by Dumbledore's voice, “Minerva,” he said softly close to the sleeping form's ear, “I need you to wake up, sweetheart. Dip from that infinite ocean of strength that resides within you, my dear, I need you to wake up."
Several minutes passed before a low groan slipped from Minerva's lips as her eyes opened languidly “That's right, my kitten. How do you feel,” Albus asked softly as he tenderly stroked her hair.
“Worse than seventh year when I out drank Pierce O'Flatery to prove a Scotswoman could drink: A bottle of Vodka, and some whiskey for good measure.”
Chuckling Albus bent down to kiss Minerva's forehead, “Yes you were a little groggy the next day. If I remember correctly you asked me if I was always so cheerful.”
Forgetting where she was Minerva uncharacteristically snorted, “I have only been drunk five times in my life, and the next morning you were always to damn cheerful.”
Albus suddenly turned very serious, ruining the comedic mood that had begun to invade the room, “What happened Minerva?”
Gasping Minerva sat up only to be restricted by Albus' arms, “Harry! Is he ok, Albus, he was in so much pain.”
“Sh. Minerva he is fine it is you we are all worried about, now lie back down,” Albus firmly replied in contrast to the tender way he pushed her back down on the bed.
Stepping to the foot of the bed Harry spoke in a confused and far away voice, “Professor I'm fine, but what happened? What did you do, and why did it hurt you?”
Minerva gave a sigh of relief before answering, “I used an ancient spell, spoken in Gaelic, called Bear Aacid. It has been passed down in my family for generations. Albus,” Minerva abruptly asked, “could you finish for me,” as she felt herself getting sleepy from the night's activities.
“The spell Harry literally means to take pain away. It allows the person performing it to relief another person of all pain that person is feeling, but to accomplish this the performer must accept the pain themselves. It is a transfer of the pain, if you will. I imagine you are feeling no effects of ever being in pain,” Harry shook his head no, “I thought as much. The spell is so powerful it removes all signs of the pain occurring.
“Only a very powerful witch could ever perform that spell. I must ask all of you to never try it. It is very difficult, and even when done correctly can result in death.”
“Now as to why it hurt your Professor so much is because of two things. One, you were experiencing a great deal of pain, more so than average. Second since Minerva is still healing, as all doctors have said, “Albus added looking pointedly at Minerva, who closed her mouth, “the spell hit her twice as hard, hence why her scars bled.”
“We can discuss this at greater length should you wish to in the morning. I think it is time we all got back to sleep,” and before anyone could complain Albus lifted Minerva up into his arms.
“Come, Kitten, let your Tom put you to bed.” Fortunately for Albus, Minerva was almost asleep so she missed his comment. If she had heard it no doubt he would have received a rather wretched tongue-lashing.
The next morning Harry made his way to Professor McGonagall’s room to thank her for everything she had done the night before. It touched Harry that she cared that much to put herself through so much pain, and he had vowed to be kinder towards her. As the reached the door he was just about to knock when he heard voices,
“My dear would you like me to help with your soreness?”
“Oh yes, Albus, that would be lovely. Thank you.” A moment later Harry heard this, “Albus I didn’t say my breast was sore.”
“Does this not feel good,” the Headmaster asked in a slightly strained voice.
“Oh, well, um….ahhh…yeeesss.”
Harry turned on his heel, and decided he could wait to thank her till he saw her next. Running down the stairs he seriously hopped he would not be plagued by what he heard for the rest of his life.
At lunch the two Professors made their way downstairs at a little slower pace than usual. Once they entered the kitchen Harry asked Professor McGonagall for a private word.
“Yes, Harry, what is it?”
“I just wanted to thank you for all you did yesterday. No one has ever done something like that for me, and I know it hurt you a great deal…so thanks,” Harry said nervously.
Smiling softly Minerva gave a simple thank you before turning back toward the kitchen, however she didn’t get far.
“Professor, what is that mark on your hand?”
Showing him her hand Minerva waited for Harry’s response, “But that is just like my scar,” he exclaimed dumb-founded.
“It is an imprint of your scar, Harry. I got it last night,” Minerva replied watching his face closely.
Harry looked up into Minerva’s face in disbelief, “Can’t Professor Dumbledore get rid of it for you.”
“Yes, and he offered, but I refused. I would like to keep it, unless you are offended by the idea.”
“No, but why would you want to Professor?”
It was a moment before Minerva answered, placing her hand upon his shoulder she said, “Because no man is alone Harry, no man is alone.”
A peaceful quiet had blanketed Grimmauld Place this evening. All the inhabitants of the house were safely tucked in their beds, and only the beams of the moon pierced the darkness. The peace, rarely found during this time of war, was not to last long for while many occupants were deep within pleasant dreams one boy, no young man, was not.
Sweat had started to appear on his forehead while he tossed in his sleep. His brow was furrowed against the pain while a peculiar scar burned bright red. In a manner of seconds the movements of the young man had changed. His tossing turned to thrashing, and his sighs into screams. A pain beyond anything he had ever felt before ripped at his head, threatening to tear it apart.
Minerva McGonagall awoke with a start. Even without her feline characteristics Minerva could have heard those screams. Bolting to her door she did not even bother repining her hair, or slipping on her dressing gown.
The rest of the house was up as well, and by the time Minerva got to Harry's room. Molly was trying to soothe him. A cold sensation gripped at Minerva's heart, as she watched the young man whimper in pain. The only coherent words coming from this mouth being, “Make it stop...please...stop.”
Minerva quickly moved to his side, “Molly could you move back please.”
Nodding wordlessly Molly moved away from the bed taking Ron and Hermione with her.
Minerva had only preformed this spell once before, and that was over fifty years ago, but she knew it was the only way to end his suffering. Taking a deep breath Minerva placed her cool hand over Harry's scar and began to speak in Gaelic.
The order members watched in awe as a gust of wind blew into the room making Minerva's hair fly out behind her. They noticed that during the spell a remarkable change was taking place in both Minerva and Harry: while Harry grew calmer and better, Minerva grew much worse.
If anyone had been facing Minerva they would have gasped in horror as blood began seeping from her stunning wounds. A moment more, and Minerva slumped down beside of Harry weak from the pain.
No one moved till Harry spoke, “Professor...Ron...Mrs. Weasley, why is Professor McGonagall in my bed?”
Molly stepped forward gently removing Minerva's hand from Harry's forehead, but before she could speak Molly noticed that an imprint of Harry's scar seemed to be burned into Minerva's hand.
“;Mrs. Weasly what happened.” Harry tried again.
“I-I'm not sure, Harry dear, but I think right now we need to help Professor McGonagall. Are you alright?” When Harry nodded that he was Molly turned to her husband, “Arthur did you reach Dumbledore?”
“I sent Fred to get him, Molly. I would have thought he would have been here by now.” Right on cue Albus Dumbledore came racing into the room not stopping before he reached Minerva's side.
Looking quickly up to Harry he noticed he appeared to be fine. Turning to Molly he asked sharply, “What spell did she use?”
“I don't know Dumbledore, but it was a different language.”
A softer but confident voice spoke up, “It was Gaelic, Headmaster.”
“Thank you Ms. Granger,” Albus quickly, but easily, turned Minerva over and closed his eyes slowly against the image of her chest. “Bear Aacid,” he whispered to himself.
“Professor,” Harry began but Dumbledore cut him off, “Harry I will answer your questions later, I need to treat your Head of House. May I use your bed?”
Harry quickly moved out of bed to stand beside of Ron. Strange he thought to himself he always felt dizzy after an episode with his scar, and he felt as if he had never had one.
Every person in the room had only seen Professor Dumbledore's extraordinary magical talent and abilities a few times in their lives. When questioned later all agreed that he had never operated so quickly and so well, almost to the point of perfection, as he did that night as he worked to heal his Deputy.
The room was eerily silent as they awaited their Professor's fate, but soon it was broken by Dumbledore's voice, “Minerva,” he said softly close to the sleeping form's ear, “I need you to wake up, sweetheart. Dip from that infinite ocean of strength that resides within you, my dear, I need you to wake up."
Several minutes passed before a low groan slipped from Minerva's lips as her eyes opened languidly “That's right, my kitten. How do you feel,” Albus asked softly as he tenderly stroked her hair.
“Worse than seventh year when I out drank Pierce O'Flatery to prove a Scotswoman could drink: A bottle of Vodka, and some whiskey for good measure.”
Chuckling Albus bent down to kiss Minerva's forehead, “Yes you were a little groggy the next day. If I remember correctly you asked me if I was always so cheerful.”
Forgetting where she was Minerva uncharacteristically snorted, “I have only been drunk five times in my life, and the next morning you were always to damn cheerful.”
Albus suddenly turned very serious, ruining the comedic mood that had begun to invade the room, “What happened Minerva?”
Gasping Minerva sat up only to be restricted by Albus' arms, “Harry! Is he ok, Albus, he was in so much pain.”
“Sh. Minerva he is fine it is you we are all worried about, now lie back down,” Albus firmly replied in contrast to the tender way he pushed her back down on the bed.
Stepping to the foot of the bed Harry spoke in a confused and far away voice, “Professor I'm fine, but what happened? What did you do, and why did it hurt you?”
Minerva gave a sigh of relief before answering, “I used an ancient spell, spoken in Gaelic, called Bear Aacid. It has been passed down in my family for generations. Albus,” Minerva abruptly asked, “could you finish for me,” as she felt herself getting sleepy from the night's activities.
“The spell Harry literally means to take pain away. It allows the person performing it to relief another person of all pain that person is feeling, but to accomplish this the performer must accept the pain themselves. It is a transfer of the pain, if you will. I imagine you are feeling no effects of ever being in pain,” Harry shook his head no, “I thought as much. The spell is so powerful it removes all signs of the pain occurring.
“Only a very powerful witch could ever perform that spell. I must ask all of you to never try it. It is very difficult, and even when done correctly can result in death.”
“Now as to why it hurt your Professor so much is because of two things. One, you were experiencing a great deal of pain, more so than average. Second since Minerva is still healing, as all doctors have said, “Albus added looking pointedly at Minerva, who closed her mouth, “the spell hit her twice as hard, hence why her scars bled.”
“We can discuss this at greater length should you wish to in the morning. I think it is time we all got back to sleep,” and before anyone could complain Albus lifted Minerva up into his arms.
“Come, Kitten, let your Tom put you to bed.” Fortunately for Albus, Minerva was almost asleep so she missed his comment. If she had heard it no doubt he would have received a rather wretched tongue-lashing.
The next morning Harry made his way to Professor McGonagall’s room to thank her for everything she had done the night before. It touched Harry that she cared that much to put herself through so much pain, and he had vowed to be kinder towards her. As the reached the door he was just about to knock when he heard voices,
“My dear would you like me to help with your soreness?”
“Oh yes, Albus, that would be lovely. Thank you.” A moment later Harry heard this, “Albus I didn’t say my breast was sore.”
“Does this not feel good,” the Headmaster asked in a slightly strained voice.
“Oh, well, um….ahhh…yeeesss.”
Harry turned on his heel, and decided he could wait to thank her till he saw her next. Running down the stairs he seriously hopped he would not be plagued by what he heard for the rest of his life.
At lunch the two Professors made their way downstairs at a little slower pace than usual. Once they entered the kitchen Harry asked Professor McGonagall for a private word.
“Yes, Harry, what is it?”
“I just wanted to thank you for all you did yesterday. No one has ever done something like that for me, and I know it hurt you a great deal…so thanks,” Harry said nervously.
Smiling softly Minerva gave a simple thank you before turning back toward the kitchen, however she didn’t get far.
“Professor, what is that mark on your hand?”
Showing him her hand Minerva waited for Harry’s response, “But that is just like my scar,” he exclaimed dumb-founded.
“It is an imprint of your scar, Harry. I got it last night,” Minerva replied watching his face closely.
Harry looked up into Minerva’s face in disbelief, “Can’t Professor Dumbledore get rid of it for you.”
“Yes, and he offered, but I refused. I would like to keep it, unless you are offended by the idea.”
“No, but why would you want to Professor?”
It was a moment before Minerva answered, placing her hand upon his shoulder she said, “Because no man is alone Harry, no man is alone.”
