It's All Inside My Head

Chapter Three: 12 Grimmauld Place

"I just wanted to talk to you about something sir..." Harry said, trying to catch the professor's eye, which was still fixed firmly on the wall behind Harry.

"Well, by all means my boy, talk away," Dumbledore said, smiling pleasantly.

"Uh, yeah- You see sir, there's been this... problem-"

Dumbledore's gaze shifted so it was more to Harry's ear, "Problem? What sort of problem?"

"Well, you see, yesterday there was this voice-"

"Oh no you don't."

Harry's mind was filled with a piercing ringing sound, so loud that his hands went up to either side of his head and his eyes squeezed shut. The ringing didn't stop, it just grew louder and louder until he could feel something thick and hot running out of his ears and down his neck.

"Stop it," he gasped, falling to his knees.

"Harry!"

Harry heard Dumbledore shout his name and felt a hand on his back. But the noise kept getting louder. Harry gritted his teeth so hard that it hurt, and leant forward so that his forhead bashed against the wooden floor.

"You're a fool if you think I would let you tell anyone, let alone Dumbledore," the voice growled, traveling over the shrill ringing in Harry's ears.

Harry gasped in pain and curled in on himself, unconsciously aware of a thick, murky layer of magic surrounding him, and a soft murmur of a language he didn't recognise coming from the ancient professor kneeling down beside him.

"Next time I won't hesitate to kill you. Remember that," the voice hissed, before Harry felt its presence disappear, the ringing sound along with it.

Harry slumped and panted in relief, lowering his hands from his head and taking a sharp intake of breath when they came away sticky and red. He raised his head weakly and locked eyes with Dumbledore. As soon as green connected with blue, Harry felt a sharp pull in his chest, along with a burning hatred. He wanted to torture the man in front of him, he wanted to hear him scream, he wanted to see him writhe on the ground, he wanted to stab his wand through Dumbledore's chest and drown him in his own blood.

Dumbledore abruptly looked away and the feeling subsided, but Harry could still feel it lingering in the part of his mind where the voice resided.

"I'm going to apparate you now Harry," Dumbledore murmered, his arm hooking tentatively around Harry's.

"Where?" Harry whispered, his eyes closing, missing Dumbledore's concerned glance.

"Somewhere where we can...discuss this away from prying eyes."

Harry felt Dumbledore's hand tighten on his arm and a sharp tug on his navel. Everything went black and Harry couldn't breath. It felt as if his lungs were being squeezed by a large fist. But as soon as it started, it stopped, and Harry collapsed on the cool cobblestones on a street outside, sucking in the cool night air desperately.

"Quickly Harry, can you stand?" Dumbledore asked, looking down at Harry on the cobblestones.

Harry nodded and slowly stood, leaving a dark smudge of blood where his head had been. Dumbledore pulled a slip of paper out of his robes and handed it to Harry.

"Read and memorise what is written, say it over and over inside your head."

Harry took the paper with trembling hands and red the neat writing now smudged with his blood.

12 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London

Harry repeated the address again and again in his head, his eyes widening in awe as another house appeared from between 11 and 13 Grimmauld place. Soon, he was staring at a tall, old building, the stone walls black and grimy compared with the houses next to it.