FicWad

DISCLAIMER: See the Prologue.

SPECIAL DISCLAIMER: "Young Frankenstein" is an actual movie directed by Mel Brooks, starring Gene Wilder. However, Brooks' funniest movie is definitely "Blazing Saddles," which also has Wilder in it.

/IMPORTANT:/ I changed the name of my OC from "Alex Drake" to "Damian Dracon," so sorry for any and all confusion!



Chapter 8: Unhappy Halloween

The weather continued to get colder, and Halloween drew closer. While the other students at the Institute were looking forward to it, Harry was reminded of his parents' deaths and the things that seemed to go wrong on Halloween almost every year he had been at Hogwarts.

After his "breakdown" at the end of his fifth year, Harry had put himself back together as best as he could, and now seemed to mold himself into a quieter individual, calculating and observing. This mix of Slytherin intellect and Gryffindor nobility made for one interesting combination.

The Institute was holding a small Halloween celebration, which was basically a movie night with refreshments. Harry didn't exactly have the same excitement as everyone else, since he had grown up completely independent of TV and other forms of electronic amusement. However, since the movie was a comedic parody ("Young Frakenstein," starring Gene Wilder and directed by Mel Brooks), he decided to give it a try.

Like most of the other students, he laughed his way through it, like at one scene where Dr. Frankenstein got caught between the rotating bookcase and its adjoining wall. "Now listen to me very carefully..." he said in a rather squeaky voice, causing another round of laughter.

After the movie, everyone went off to their rooms, tired but still cheerful.

"Hm," Harry said to himself as he was getting changed, "As far as Halloweens go, this wasn't so bad."

Little did he realize, at least then, that he had spoken too soon.



Harry was dreaming again, but certainly not seeing anything he'd like to see. There were screams, explosions, and maniacal laughter...

Death Eaters were running through the streets of a village, causing mayhem in their wake. After Harry saw a flagpole toppled over and got a good look at the flag, he could see that he seeing the events in some French village.

But just knowing where he was couldn't help him do anything to put a stop to all this. Harry could only watch on helplessly as all the atrocities were committed.

Finally, a small troop of Death Eaters broke into a cottage, and when Harry saw the four occupants inside, he felt something cold in his stomach upon recognizing them.

It was the Delacour family - /Fleur's family./

'Bloody hell, NO!'/ Harry thought, but it did no good. He was helpless as he watched the small group of Death Eaters part to see whom they were letting inside./

Harry could only gape numbly as he saw... /himself/.

"Harry" was walking into the room, smirking, and pulled out "his" wand.

Harry could only continue to stare, looking at the wand which was supposed to have been destroyed in the battle against the dementors...

Then it occurred to him. The dementors /stole it and brought it back to Voldemort!/

What ensued was a futile attempt to escape. Fleur and Gabrielle fled with their mother, while their father only held out against the attacking Death Eaters for a minute before they were finally able to kill him.

Mrs. Delacour and her children fled to another room, and were getting out emergency Portkeys. Just as they were able to get one out of a locked box, "Harry" threw a Killing Curse at Mrs. Delacour, who then fell dead to the floor.

Gabrielle screamed and cried, but Fleur held her back, and both disappeared with the Portkey as "Harry" began to laugh maniacally...



"NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Harry woke up, sweating and tangled in his bed sheets, with his scar hurting terribly...

"Harry, what's wrong?" Damian exclaimed, rushing into the room.

"Scar... hurt... saw... vision... they... killed..." Harry mumbled, feeling ready to faint.

"Harry, wait here," Damian instructed, rushing back into his own room to get some medical potions.

Harry about to actually faint when Damian returned in a dash. "Here, drink this," he said, offering Harry a vial, which the younger wizard eagerly accepted.

After consuming its contents, Harry told Damian what he saw in his vision.

"I'll get the professor," Damian said, rushing out of the room.

"No, wait, that's not..." Harry started to say, but dropped it after Damian was already gone (he turned himself into a small dragon and flew out of the room).

A few moments later, Ororo walked into the room, looking concerned. "Come with me, Harry. Don't worry, you're not in trouble."

Sensing the honesty in her voice, Harry got out of bed, put on his night robe, and followed her. "Being one of the instructors of the Xavier Institute means having to deal with the occasional incident, regardless of the time," Ororo said calmly.

"You mean like when Damian torched his bed in the middle of the night?" Harry asked.

Ororo allowed herself a tiny smile at the memory. "Not the example I would have used, but I suppose that works."

Professor Xavier, Logan and McCoy were all waiting in his office, all looking concerned (except for Logan, who was as grumpy as usual). "What happened, Harry?" Professor Xavier asked in his concerned, mentor voice.

"Vision," Harry said shortly. "I saw someone impersonating me... and he killed off the parents of someone I know..."

"Fleur Delacour, the French witch from that Tournament in your fourth year at your school," the Professor confirmed after reading Harry's mind.

"Yeah, that's right," Harry said.

Please concentrate on your "vision," Harry, Xavier told him telepathically.

Harry did so, and the other three adults watched the horror unfold. Ororo clasped a hand to her mouth, and Logan let out a snarl.

"It gets worse," Harry said after they were done watching. "Apparently, my wand wasn't destroyed in the skirmish with the dementors; they stole it. Combined with somehow looking like me, they can make it look as though I did it. And the fact that Fudge is trying to discredit me at every possible turn will only make things worse. Even if he's not working for Voldemort, Fudge can certainly help him, just like he did last year."

"Don't panic, Harry," Xavier said calmly in a Dumbledore-like way. "The charades of all your enemies, be they Dark wizards or corrupt politicians, can't last forever, and hopefully not for long."

"I know," Harry said wearily. "I just don't know how long it's going to be for..."



Harry willed himself not to fall asleep, but after an hour, he fell asleep anyway from exhaustion. A few of his fellow mutants commented on the next day on his exhaustion and ruffled state, but he ignored it all.

Later that evening, that day's edition of the Daily Prophet came from Damian's pen pal back in England. As though with a passion, the paper (which, of course, was another one of Fudge's voices) declared Harry responsible for the attacks on behalf of Voldemort, and offered a bounty on his head of half a million Galleons.

"I can't take this anymore," Harry said, closing his eyes in disgust and throwing back the newspaper. "If I read anymore, my eyes will probably bleed."

Damian snorted at the wit.

Harry just walked outside into the chilly early November weather, disgusted with everything. However, he couldn't deny that it had been some small consolation that none of his friends were mentioned in any way. That was the only thing which kept his hope going.

The only thing which kept his hope going...



As time went on, Harry got moodier and more withdrawn from his new friends. It was a rather slow process, but almost everyone seemed to pick up on it. From the lack of conversational input to the renewed determination and fighting in the Danger Room, Harry seemed to venting his extreme dissatisfaction with what fate was giving him in life.

Damian had told everyone what was going on, and they could understand Harry's anger. However, none of them (at least not the students) dared try to confront Harry over it. Especially not with Harry's new "leave me alone and I'll leave you alone" attitude. Whenever Harry made eye contact with one of them, they could almost feel his emerald eyes drilling into them as though trying to find their intentions...

Of course, this didn't go unobserved by Professor Xavier, who ruled his mansion kingdom from his wheelchair throne. He would have stepped in (so to speak, given he was confined to a wheelchair), but he had no idea to approach the situation, given Harry's unique past and abilities. Xavier also kept to himself the secret of that dreaded prophecy which Harry now knew and even feared.

How ironic, Xavier thought to himself, that he should now find himself in a position nearly parallel to that of Harry's former wise old mentor.



However, even the normal, scheduled exercises in the Danger Room weren't enough for Harry. The prophecy, the incompetence of the wizarding world, the feeling of uselessness by being at the Institute, and the knowledge of his new powers were all incentives for him to seek training in a different way. One night, Harry sneaked out with his uniform and his Invisibility Cloak, determined to do just that.


TBC...

A/N: So what's going on back across the pond? What's going with Harry at the Institute? Who knows all this? I do!

Next chapter is where Harry continues to sink into depression... -Quillian