First Place - Angst

"You can't run forever Potter!" Piers Polkiss yelled with maniacal glee.

Harry didn't yell back. Yelling meant using air, air he needed to keep running. Harry was fast, very fast. He had to be. It was the only way he escaped his cousin and his cousin's friends... most of the time anyway. He didn't always get away. He was afraid this was one of those days.

The boy looked like his name sounded, Piers Polkiss, skinny with the sallow rat face. He had moved to Little Whinging that summer and Harry knew him for what he was the instant he saw him... a bully. Piers had then started the first grade with Harry and Dudley and instantly joined Dudley's gang. Most of Dudley's friends were big, not like Dudley but still big, and tired easily. When Piers was motivated he was a match for Harry.

And Harry was tired. He'd had that dream the night before, where all he could remember was a lot of green light that made his head hurt. Then in the morning there had been no breakfast for him, not even a single piece of bacon to sneak from the pan.

The schoolyard was coming closer, packed with other kids, but there was no savior among them for Harry. He had no friends, and never would have friends. The only kid who ever tried had been beat up by Dudley and word spread fast. No one wanted to make Dudley mad.

Maybe, though, just maybe, he could get lost in the crowd of kids. He was small, small enough to be mistaken for a kid two years younger, and that meant he could hide.

Just as Harry had hopes of disappearing into the large group that was waiting for the school doors to open a foot shot into his path. There was no time to slow down, to jump, to wish the foot wasn't there. It was perfectly timed.

Harry went sprawling onto the asphalt playground. His glasses were knocked off his face and the bridge broke for the millionth time Harry thought. His teeth rattled, his knees and hands were skinned, bloody and raw. It was the only time Harry was thankful his clothes were too big. They protected most of his body.

Laughter erupted all around him. Harry could easily pick out Dudley's laugh, a younger, higher pitched version of Uncle Vernon.

"You again," a harsh voice said as Harry was dragged to his feet. "You are the most accident prone child I have ever met. You'll be missing class again."

Harry was dragged by the collar to the school nurse, who took one look at him and sighed, pulling out jars of antiseptic lotion and large gauze bandages, "You again Potter?"

Harry felt himself shrink inwards, trying to disappear. It wasn't like they cared. They never even tried to find the truth. Running and falling was much better than getting punched and kicked. But they never asked. They never asked about the bruises. They never asked why his clothes were a mess and Dudley's were new and perfect.

And Harry would never tell. Uncle Vernon would get mad if he told. Harry did not want Uncle Vernon to get mad.

School went by quickly. Harry soaked up the information and left it somewhere in his brain, a place that would never be called on for tests. He had to let Dudley get better grades, and Dudley was pretty dumb. The doors of the school burst open to let in the afternoon sun and Harry was running again, back to Privet Drive, back to dishes to wash and floor to clean. On the way he ripped off the bandages. Aunt Petunia wouldn't want to see them.

Hands grabbed him from behind. Harry was not having a good day.

"Got ya Potter," Piers said maliciously into his ear. It wouldn't be long before Dudley and the others showed up, and then Harry would be late... again. The first fist was to his stomach... never the face... never the hands... never leave bruises where others could see.

There was no scream from his lips as he woke. Harry had learned long ago to stop those screams from his nightmares about his relatives before they even began. Screaming at night only brought a furious Uncle Vernon. The summer after his fourth year had been the first time Harry had spoken in his sleep or yelled from nightmares since before he could walk.

"No! Harry, no!"

Harry started. His breathing was already labored from the dream, his skin shining in the moonlight with a fine, almost undetectable sheen of sweat. It sounded like he wasn't the only dreaming, and the voice was frightened.

His curtains parted with an absent twitch of his fingers and Harry stepped out of bed. The windows were open, letting in a cool night breeze. It was only the third night at Hogwarts. Harry had slept like the dead the first night, though he knew he had nightmares of some sort from the way the sheets had been twisted around his body when he woke. The second night he had taken his potion and barely moved in his sleep.

"Please don't!"

The sounds were in a voice Harry would know if he was blind and bound. He crossed the room and opened a set of curtains to see his best friends tossing, his face scrunched up and tears leaking from his eyes. Harry quickly shut the curtains and cast an imperturbable charm. Ron wouldn't want the others to see.

"Ron," Harry took hold of his friend's shoulders and shook them lightly. "Wake up Ron."

Ron's eyes shot open, like a, well anything caught in the path of the Knight Bus that could actually see it coming. He scrambled back until he was pressed against the headboard and looked around wildly. Ron looked even worse than the night Sirius had broken into the dorm and slashed his bed curtains.

"It was a dream Ron," Harry assured his friend, trying to project calm through his own tension. "It was just a dream."

"Harry?" Ron's voice sounded small and pleading. Harry nodded and Ron shot forward, wrapping Harry in a tight hug.

It was all Harry could do not to recoil, as this wasn't like Ron. Ron didn't hug his male friends like that. Harry swallowed and continued to project feelings of calm and safety, as much for his benefit as for his friend, "It's okay Ron."

It only took for an instant for Ron to release Harry from the hug and turn bright red. Harry breathed deeply, grateful to be let out of the contact.

"I had a nightmare," Harry explained to Ron, trying to get rid of his friend's embarrassment. He could feel it as strongly as if it were his own. He swallowed and closed his eyes. Only his father and Charlie had heard any of these stories, but Ron had to know they were there. "It was about Dudley, when we were little."

When Harry opened his eyes Ron's face wasn't red anymore and the embarrassment was gone. In its place was concern, Ron putting Harry first like he had many times before. There was a twinge of guilt but Harry pushed it aside and stumbled forward, telling Ron every detail of his dream. When he was done he saw and felt something from Ron he never really expected... understanding.

"Harry... I...," the redhead looked away. They sat there in the mostly dark space of Ron's bed, Ron leaning on his headboard and Harry cross-legged at the foot of the bed. "I know the prophecy."

"How?" Harry demanded, possibly more shocked than when he had heard Snape was his father.

"Did Dumbledore tell you?" Harry nodded and Ron breathed a sigh of relief. Harry's mind was whirling with the possibilities, none of them at all realistic, that he conjured up to explain this. Ron looked troubled and Harry waited, knowing that pushing him would only make it worse. "Do you remember the brains?"

"Honest Harry, they're brains -- look -- Accio Brain!"

Harry nodded mutely, the whole experience in the Department of Mysteries coming back to him. The fascinated and horrified expression on student and Death Eater alike as the tank of brains broke open and the tentacles of thought wrapped around Ron... not knowing if Ron would be alright as Harry ran, drawing away the Death Eaters... the feeling of guilt and then relief when he remembered his friends again after Sirius fell and discovered they were all going to be fine.

"I'm sorry Ron," Harry gulped back some air. "I left you there... I..."

"..did exactly what you had to," Ron said like a slap across the face. "If you had stopped to help me they would have gotten you and we would have all died."

Harry looked at Ron in a bit of wonder. It was like he didn't know his friend anymore. The way Ron said that... he sounded so confident and adult. Then Ron's face softened and he gazed over Harry's shoulder.

"I spent most of that summer with an Unspeakable," Ron said in a distant voice. "For a long time there were just so many thoughts in my head... Madam Pomfrey did something to quiet them but they came back. I still have nightmares sometimes, about all those thoughts... just fragments."

"How do you know the prophecy Ron?" Harry half whispered.

Ron laughed harshly, "We made so much fun of Trelawney Harry, and those brains, they're the absorbed minds of hundreds of seers. I saw the future Harry." Harry's eyes widened and he wondered why Ron had never said anything about it. "It wasn't like we always joked though. I saw not just the future, but every future."

"What do you mean Ron?" Harry was almost afraid to ask.

Ron looked haunted, almost like Sirius had on many occasions, and Harry projected warm, positive thoughts. Ron looked up at him in surprise, "Charlie does that."

"Yeah, I know," Harry smiled and Ron screwed up his face in distaste. "Does it really bother you that much?"

"It's not the guy thing Harry," Ron assured his best friend. "I think I'd have the same problem if it was you and Ginny." Harry nodded and Ron gave him a tentative smile.

"Anyway, let's say you didn't decide to wake me up from my nightmare. I might never tell you all this and everything from now on would be different." Harry nodded. He got that much at least. It was like changing time with a time-turner. One little thing could alter everything else dramatically. "There are millions of potential futures Harry, every one of them stemming from the moment the brain wrapped around me.

"You-Know-Who got the prophecy and killed you, but Dumbledore got him and the war ended there. You-Know-Who got the prophecy and you escaped but the rest of us died and you went after You-Know-Who, killed him, and became the next Dark Lord with the Death Eaters following you." Harry's jaw dropped and Ron gave Harry a pained smile, "That was the nightmare tonight."

"Ron... I...," Harry didn't know what to think. Ron had been holding this in for more than a year and Harry never knew anything was wrong until that night. What kind of friend was he?

"Don't Harry," Ron shook his head, shaggy hair falling in his face. He brushed it back and looked up, "You had more than enough to think about. I didn't tell you on purpose. When should I have told you? When you couldn't sleep because of You-Know-Who and your nightmares? When you were struggling to catch up with school work?"

They sat in silence for a few minutes and then Ron started talking again.

"In about half the futures I saw you never heard the prophecy," Ron smiled. "At least I know all those are wrong now. In all the ones where you did it was the same... every time... because the prophecy had already been made. I only remember because I saw it so many times." Harry nodded slowly. It was strange, but it made sense. Harry had to wrap his mind around all sorts of absolutely bizarre ideas since his eleventh birthday and this was just another of them. Ron laughed, "There was even one Harry, where we ended up together."

Harry burst out laughing. He couldn't help it, "You and me?"

Ron nodded and the two of them just laughed, laughed like they had heard the funniest joke ever told. All the grave seriousness of the moment evaporated and they laughed as only those who saw death and lived could. When it was over Harry felt lighter.

"You're like a brother Harry," Ron shook his head. "Seeing that was just...," Ron shuddered and Harry agreed. "You and Charlie were in a lot of them, so my mind has a much clearer picture of that than my imagination could ever come up with."

"Sorry," Harry smiled sheepishly.

Ron waved it off, "Not your fault... well, not my seeing it anyway."

"Can you..." Harry hesitated. He didn't want to use his best friend, but with information like that available to the Order, "can you pick out a good future and tell us how to get there?"

"No," Ron shook his head and his face fell. "The Unspeakable I saw... we hoped the same at first... but there are so many... Harry, it would take me at least ten years to separate them all into hundreds of pensieves, there aren't even enough in existence for that, and then longer for a team of wizards to go through them all until we found that we liked. They're all jumbled up and overlapped... it's a mess. I see bits and pieces but they're disjointed."

"Who knows?" Harry asked in wonder. A sick fear was worming its way into Harry's mind. If Voldemort found out what the brains did to Ron he'd stop at nothing to get Ron and rip his mind apart.

"Just me, that Unspeakable, and you," Ron said quietly. "My parents knew I was having nightmares, and sometimes I'd just find myself paralyzed thinking of everything that could happen. Last summer..." Ron stopped and Harry could see he was thinking, debating. Eventually Ron just took off his pajama top and Harry could see the scars from the brains. What scared him almost silly was that Harry knew that pattern of scars. He had carved it onto his own arms and chest over a year ago.

Harry reached out to trace one of the scars on Ron's right arm. It was real, the raised white mark from a healed welt, "That's... that's..."

"Weird," Ron said with conviction. "When Mum sat us down in Headquarters that night I knew... and it scared me silly. I started wondering if I could have done anything to stop you..."

"No Ron," Harry interrupted as he felt traces of guilt forming. "There was nothing you could do. I ignored my post completely, didn't read a word of it. Dumbledore never would have let you visit and you couldn't have known that one particular future would happen."

"I know," Ron nodded without much conviction, "but that didn't stop me from wondering."

"Did you know about Snape?" Harry asked with curiosity.

Ron shook his head, "No. It had to be consistent, since it was already fact, but maybe in, like, eighty percent of the futures you never found out about it." Ron shrugged, "The prophecy was really the only thing that stuck with me. I debated telling you about it for so long, but every time I worked up the courage I wondered if by telling you I was changing the course of the future for the worst."

Harry just nodded, "So you know."

"Yeah," Ron sighed. "The only other thing Harry, that never changed in any of them, was that you and You-Know-Who will fight. I have no idea where or when it will happen but I know it will."

"I know," Harry looked down. He felt that sense of duty, destiny hanging over him again, and then desperation. "Do you know Ron... in any of them... do I get to be happy?"

Terrible sadness emanated from Ron and Harry felt his own despair rising, "I don't know Harry. Things happen, and something clicks, and I feel this strange deja vu, like I've lived through the events before. Or I'll dream something, but it will only be a small piece of one future. Almost everything else is too blurry and confusing. Hell, sometimes I'm afraid to get out of bed in the morning, because what if you left in the night to hunt him down and the world is all different?"

"Is it that hard?" Harry asked, reaching out with his senses to get the answer.

Desperation, pain, fear... mind-numbing, heart-stopping fear, Ron nodded. Harry focused and saw Ron's magical energy, swirling and flowing. It was about the same brightness as Charlie's, and almost identical in color, though the red was more orange, and the strongest node was the one at Ron's brow. Charlie and Harry were both strongest at the node on the chest, and Snape's was almost equally distributed.

Ron would be about as powerful as Charlie was, Harry knew with a sudden certainty. It had something to do with the brightness, the level of magical power, the amount of magic available to the wizard. Ron's magic seemed tensed, and somehow slower than it should be. Harry wondered if he could fix it, and he reached out a hand, not really touching Ron, but urging his magic to sort of give Ron's a kick start. Harry felt a surge of energy and there was a loud 'snap'.

"What the hell was that?" Ron yelped and jumped.

Harry shook his head to clear it and blinked, his barrier against the visible magic slipping into place, "It... I can... sort of... see magic."

"I feel weird," Ron said, guarded. He was looking at Harry oddly, "It's like all my joints cracked at once and everything is looser. What did you do?"

"I don't know," Harry admitted and Ron blinked at him. "I'm sorry Ron. I'll just..." Harry moved to leave the bed. He had overstepped his bounds, invaded his friend's personal space.

"Stop," Ron ordered. "You always assume the worst Harry." Harry picked up a bit of amusement. "Just... warn me if you ever decide to do something like that again."

Harry grinned and nodded, "Okay.

"What time is it?" Ron stretched and yawned. "I'm hungry."

"Like the time has anything to do with that," Harry snorted. Ron was perpetually hungry. He flicked his hand and Ron looked at him with wide eyes. Whoops, Harry thought to himself, "Erm, yeah, I can do magic without my wand. I actually can't use my wand for most stuff. Don't tell anyone. Most of the Order doesn't even know."

The luminous numbers started to fade, but Harry caught them before they did. It was still early but the castle would be waking soon.

"No point in going back to sleep," Ron said and grinned. "Kitchens?"

Harry shrugged, "Sure. Should we wake 'Mione?"

"Nah," Ron shook his head. "I think we can manage without her."

"The elves will definitely be happier," Harry agreed. He cancelled the charm on Ron's curtains and they both got dressed for the day and left the tower, the first Gryffindors out for the day. Ron wrote a quick note to Hermione and Harry banished it to her bedside table so she wouldn't wait for them to go down to the great hall.

The walk down to the kitchens was lighthearted and fun. Harry and Ron joked and teased each other just like in the days before the Triwizard Tournament, before everything changed and they changed with the rest. Ron ate an obscene number of pastries and Harry drank cup after cup of coffee but only ate a small breakfast. They talked about quidditch and classes, about Hermione and Charlie, though both topics made Ron turn bright red and Harry was evasive on the latter. He thought Ron was rather relieved at that.

When the elves started sending food up the great hall the two Gryffindors figured it was time to join the rest of the school. They walked up towards the great hall slowly, as if trying to capture the carefree atmosphere of the morning and make it last forever.

Harry gave up on it first, "Does it still stop you sometimes... the thoughts?"

"Yeah," Ron whispered and scuffed his shoe on the floor. Harry could feel embarrassment and dread coming from his friend.

"Did the Unspeakable tell you anything to do to stop them from coming through?" Harry asked with interest.

Ron shook his head, "We mostly just talked about it. He tried a few potions that blocked it but one made my whole mind feel fuzzy and sluggish, another made it even worse." Ron wrapped his arms around his chest, "One of them just made me all paranoid and afraid of everything. He said that a memory charm might take care of it... but..."

"Lockhart," Harry said simply and Ron nodded. Harry doubted either of them would ever let anyone mess with their memories that way. "Can I tell one person?"

"Who?" Ron asked cautiously.

"Dad," Harry answered simply. "He might be able to help."

Ron wavered, and Harry felt that sense of desperation again coupled with a lingering fear that almost every Gryffindor associated with Snape, and then nodded.

Finding the Key - Chapter 17

Back to Chapter 15

Back to Results