"You love me, Harry."
"No i don't, Rose. Fuck off."
Rose Black, the daughter of the famous Sirius Black. The only thing she was ever known as. But what she didn't know, is that in just four years, she would be so much more than that. Voldemort and t...
MADAM POMFREY insisted on keeping Harry in the hospital wing for the rest of the weekend. He didn't argue or complain, but he wouldn't let her throw away the shattered remnants of his Nimbus Two Thousand. He knew he was being stupid, knew that the Nimbus was beyond repair, but Harry couldn't help it; he felt as though he'd lost one of his best friends.
He had a stream of visitors, all intent on cheering him up. Hagrid sent him a bunch of earwiggy flowers that looked like yellow cabbages, and Ginny Weasley, blushing furiously, turned up with a get-well card she had made herself, which sang shrilly unless Harry kept it shut under his bowl of fruit. The Gryffindor team visited again on Sunday morning, this time accompanied by Wood, who told Harry (in a hollow, dead sort of voice) that he didn't blame him in the slightest. Ron, Hermione and Rose left Harry's bedside only at night. But nothing anyone said or did could make Harry feel better, because they knew only half of what was troubling him.
He hadn't told anyone about the Grim, not even Ron, Hermione or Rose because he knew Ron would panic, Hermione would scoff, and Rose would most likely just say, "So?". The fact remained, however, that it now appeared twice, and both appearances had been followed by near-fatal accidents; the first time, he had nearly been run over by the Night Bus; the second, fallen fifty feet from his broomstick. Was the Grim going to haunt him until he actually died? Was he going to spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder for the beast?
And then there was the Dementors. Harry felt sick and humiliated every time he thought of them. Everyone said the Dementors were horrible, but no one else except for Rose collapsed every time they went near one. No one else heard the echoes in their head of their dying parent.
Because Harry knew who that screaming belonged to now. He has heard her words, heard them over and over again during the night hours in the hospital wing while he lay awake, staring at the strips of moonlight on the ceiling. When the Dementors approached him, he heard the last moments of his mothers life, her attempts to protect him, and Rose. That's what Harry is confused about. Was Rose there? He decided it was best to try and forget about that unless it was brought up. He also tried to forget about Voldemort's laughter before he murdered her...Harry dozed fitfully, sinking into dreams full of clammy, rotted hands and petrified pleading, jerking awake to dwell again on his mother's voice.
It was a relief to return to the noise and bustle of the main school on Monday. where he was forced to think about other things, even if he had to endure Draco Malfoys taunting. Malfoy was almost beside himself with glee at Gryffindors defeat. He had finally taken off his bandages, and celebrated having the full use of both arms again by doing sprites imitations of Harry falling off his broom. Malfoy spent much of their next Potions class doing Dementor imitations across the dungeon; Ron finally cracked and flung a large, slippery crocodile heart at Malfoy, which hit him in the face and caused Snape to take fifty points from Gryffindor.
