A Brother To Basilisks (a Drarry fanfic)

Chapter 1: Hurried Images

Harry turned over in his bed and once again kicked his covers off sullenly. It was too hot, he thought. He was too tired. He wanted to sleep, and he couldn't. His brain was charging along like the Hogwarts Express.

Why did Lupin not let him fight the boggart?

No matter how much Harry tried to think of other things, it kept coming back to that. Lupin thought he was weak because Harry had fainted on the train. Or he had listened to that git Snape and what he was always saying about Harry even though he hadn't listened to what Snape said about Neville. Or he just thought Harry might be disastrous at it because he'd listened to stories Professor McGonagall told him.

It's not like I mean to run into trouble. It's not like I have a choice!

But something hard struck Harry's ears before he could start another round of questioning himself and trying to remember every part of Lupin's expression for an answer. He heard someone calling him. It sounded like Help, help, help, a steady sound that was far away but near enough that Harry sat up and stared wildly around. He wondered why no one else had heard it.

They hadn't, though. They were all asleep. Ron was snoring, and so was Neville, who didn't sleep well all that often.

For once, Harry hesitated, the image of Lupin and the way he'd stood in front of the boggart so Harry couldn't fight in his mind. They all think that I'm some sort of troublemaker. I'd probably be proving them right if I went and got involved in this, right? I should just stay in bed and pull the curtains around me and pretend that none of this is happening.

But the voice went on calling, and it was so strange, not saying his name, but just repeating the call for help again and again. Harry argued with himself as he slid out of bed and put on his glasses and made sure he had his wand. If it was a trap for him, specifically for him, then it would be saying his name, right? It would be trying to lure him to it. Instead, it was just sitting there and calling, and anyone could have heard it.

He had the feeling that Lupin wouldn't be impressed with that argument if he heard it, but Harry wasn't very impressed with him right now.

He did take his Invisibility Cloak and drape it over himself. There, that would keep Sirius Black away.

*

Following the call was frustrating.

No matter how many steps or corridors or corners Harry walked, it was always ahead of him, and then to the side, and it never sounded like it was louder or further away. It just called, the same word over and over. Harry was starting to wonder if one of the ghosts needed help. It didn't sound like a human voice.

Or maybe Sirius Black fell into a trap that Dumbledore set, and now he's calling me, and I'm the only one who can hear him.

Harry clutched his wand. He didn't know exactly how that could happen, but there were lots of things he didn't understand in the wizarding world that people kept telling him were possible. Like Tom Riddle's diary existing, or Dementors being on the side of good, or Snape being a good teacher.

He finally came to a halt in the middle of a corridor and closed his eyes. He would just walk along until he found the voice, he decided. Maybe it would work better if he wasn't looking and just let his ears guide him. He didn't think he would run into Mrs. Norris or Filch. It was too late.

Help, help, help, help, help, help...

Harry finally walked into something square and waist-height, and opened his eyes with a little yelp. He was standing in a bathroom. He'd really fallen into a trance listening to the voice, he marveled; he would have noticed the cold tile under his feet and the sound of gurgling water otherwise. He'd walked into a sink.