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Chapter Two: A Merry Holiday to You Too, Headmaster
Hermione gave Harry a stern look. He knew she was too smart not to notice that something was bothering him, even if Ron had been completely oblivious.
"Harry, I-" she started, and Harry threw up a hand to stop her in midsentence. Her lips formed a thin line and he could see her jaw clench.
"Hermione, I'm sorry, but there's nothing to tell," Harry said as they entered the library. "I'm perfectly fine. Just stressed out about our assignment for Defense." That wasn't a complete lie; ever since Snape had left to search for Malfoy the class had been in shambles. Dumbledore had hired a creaky older witch ironically named Professor Young, and she had assigned homework in every class for the last four weeks.
Hermione adopted a softer expression. "Yes, I agree, she's been a bit overreaching," she admitted, and Harry's jaw dropped.
"You mean that you don't like the extra work?" he asked, unable to keep the amazement out of his eyes.
Hermione scrunched up her nose and sat down at a table in the corner of the library. "It's not that I don't like the extra work, but it's difficult to study ahead when I'm working on her assignments every night. It's left me almost no extra time for N.E.W.T. work, and the exam is only next year." She worried her lip and reached fervently for her books. "Which reminds me, I've got to catch up on N.E.W.T. level Charms." She plopped a massive brown book down onto the table and flipped it open, her right hand already taking down notes.
Already tired just watching Hermione, Harry sat back against his chair and stared at a pair of younger students attempting to levitate a book out of the Restricted Section. A loud, wailing alarm sounded, causing the students to bolt out of the library with Madam Pince screeching after them. Harry stifled a laugh and tried to focus on his homework.
His mind drifted to his favorite subject these days, which was what the hell was going on with Malfoy. He drummed his fingers on the side of the table as he pondered Snape's whereabouts. The professor had left without a word the morning after finding the Death Eater posing as Malfoy, and little explanation was given as to where he'd gone. Dumbledore had simply said that Professor Snape had private matters to attend to, which satisfied the majority of the students; they disliked him and didn't particularly care why he was gone. Hermione had hypothesized about the situation for a few days, especially when everyone realized that Malfoy was gone, but she seemed to run out of fuel after the first week. Harry was grateful, he didn't need more reason to think about Malfoy's situation since his own questions about him had kept him awake since that night.
Rumors had flown around the school about Malfoy, ranging from garden variety Death Eater stories to -and it still made Harry's stomach turn thinking about it - Malfoy running off with Snape to have some sordid love affair. Harry bit back a gag; that was absolutely the last thing he wanted on his mind.
He was drawn out of his thoughts by Hermione nudging him and motioning to the library entrance. Professor McGonagall had walked in and was making her way over to their table.
"Mr. Potter, I have come to inform you that the Headmaster wishes to speak with you," she said, her tone brisk and no nonsense.
"Right now, Professor?" Harry started to gather his unfinished homework, and Professor McGonagall gave him a curt nod.
"Yes. The password is pumpkin pasties." She turned and left almost as quickly as she came, leaving Harry frowning in her wake while Hermione gave him a questioning look.
"What do you think Professor Dumbledore wants, Harry? Do you think," she lowered her voice, "do you think this is about the Order?"
Harry shook his head. "I have no idea, Hermione, but I'll tell you about it when I get back."
"Okay, Harry. You had better." She returned to reading the massive Charms book and Harry slipped quietly out of the library. He absently wondered along the way if Dumbledore would give him any information about Snape and Malfoy. He reached the gargoyle faster than he expected, and muttered the password. He knocked on the large wooden door and pushed it open, revealing a smiling Headmaster, much different than the last time he had been in his office.
"Ah, Harry, good of you to come. Lemon drop?" He ushered a glass bowl towards him, and Harry politely refused. "Well, I'm sure you're quite curious as to why I've summoned you here."
Harry nodded, eager to hear what Dumbledore had to say. "Yes, sir."
"Of course. I am wondering, Harry, what have you planned over the holiday break?" Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he spoke, and he popped a candy into his mouth.
Harry frowned slightly. "I suppose I haven't really thought about it, sir. Ron usually invites me to The Burrow, but we haven't really talked about it yet."
Dumbledore merely smiled and nodded his head as if that was what he expected. "I have a proposal to make, my dear boy." His voice took on a serious edge as he leaned forward towards Harry, his blue eyes glinting with something Harry couldn't put words to. "You were not aware, but I was planning to escort you to a place I believe holds an item of great importance- an item belonging to Voldemort."
Harry frowned a little more, only mildly surprised. "You were going to go with me, Headmaster?"
Dumbledore nodded and brought his left hand into view for the first time since Harry had been back at school, and Harry gasped.
"Sir, your hand... It looks as if it's been severely burnt," he said in a near whisper, feeling ill at the sight of it.
"It is a curse, from a similar artifact found elsewhere. I have so far been able to contain it to just this hand, but it will not stay contained forever." He waved his good hand, cutting off whatever sympathies Harry was going to offer him. "It's no matter, Harry. The important thing is that these artifacts are found and destroyed as soon as possible, and I am no longer in the shape necessary to be of much help."
Harry shook his head. "Sir, you can't mean to send me alone to this place." That had Dumbledore smiling again, leaving Harry quite confused. He was unsure what had amused the Headmaster so much, and unease swept over him.
"Of course not, Harry. I never said you would be going alone. It so happens that there is someone more than qualified to assist you journeying in the near vicinity of where you will need to go. He has his own, separate duties, of course, but I am sure you will come to a working understanding."
"But sir, is this someone in the Order? Someone who would understand the mission well enough to be useful?" Harry was beyond curious now, and beginning to become wary of who his guide would be.
Dumbledore actually chuckled at his response, deep laugh lines framing his eyes. "Why yes, as a matter of fact, he's one of the most valued members of the Order." Harry froze, and a chill rolled across his skin as he came to an understanding.
"I'm sure Professor Snape will be pleased to have some company," Dumbledore said cheerfully, and popped another sweet into his mouth.
Harry stared at the ceiling above his four poster, and said for what felt the thousandth time just this morning, "Why me?" He kicked off his covers with more than a little irritation, startling Ron who was getting ready to go eat breakfast.
"Hey, mate, something the matter?" the redhead asked cautiously as he put on his jumper. "It's about the holidays again, isn't it?"
Harry didn't bother to dignify that with a response, and he scowled at his trainers as if they were the cause to all his problems. Ron shot him a look of pity and shrugged his shoulders as if saying, well what do you want me to do about it?
"You can always owl me at The Burrow, you know," he said hopefully, giving Harry a wary look again.
"Ron," he snapped, "why in Merlin's name would I bring along an owl to a trip to a cave in the middle of the bleeding ocean?" Harry had already lost his temper and he hadn't even had breakfast yet. He had a flicker of dark amusement when he thought about breaking his own record of earliest outbursts.
Ron paled considerably and took off towards the stairs. "Just trying to help, mate," he said quietly on his way out.
He left Harry with a small pang of regret, and the other boy sighed and admitted to himself that he would need to apologize to Ron the next time he saw him.
He didn't feel much like eating that morning; it was the day that he was to arrive at Dumbledore's office promptly at noon to use the floo to meet Snape. He ground his teeth and threw a glare at his trunk, packed with necessary clothes and some extra supplies that he would need for the trip. Dumbledore had assured him that it should take no more than a week, and he might even be able to get back to The Burrow for Christmas. He clung to that hope like a life raft. He had no idea how he was supposed to spend more than an hour alone with the belligerent professor, let alone an entire week.
The time seemed to go slower and faster all at once as Harry spent the morning in his dormitory waiting rather impatiently for noon. Harry thought that prisoners lining up for executions were the only people that could empathize. It was a quarter to noon now, and his stomach clenched. He bit back nausea, feeling as if he'd swallowed spoiled milk.
I suppose I had just better get this over with.
Harry entered the Headmaster's office as slowly as he could, taking slow, cautious steps as if the floor was about to collapse underneath his weight.
"Professor Dumbledore?" he called out rather meekly, flushing because of it. Dumbledore was standing facing a large wooden shelf against the wall, his back turned to the younger boy.
"Harry, my boy," he said lightly, not turning around. "I trust that your preparations have gone smoothly?" He spun around to face Harry, a small silver chain clasped in his good hand.
"Yes, sir," he muttered, trying to let nothing more than politeness color his voice. Dumbledore gave him a cheery smile and gestured to the chain.
"You will need this in your travels. Wear it around your neck at all times, never take it off. This is vital, Harry. It may end up being your only means of escape should you find yourself in trouble." His voice was hard, and Harry nodded to let the Headmaster know that he understood. "The chain is a Portkey directly to this office. Should any harm find you, simply touch your hand to the silver and speak the phrase libertatem corpus."
Harry recited the words in his minds a few times. "Alright, Professor, I'll remember," he said with much more confidence than he felt. Albus smiled again as he slipped the chain around Harry's neck, putting his hands on the boy's shoulders.
"I am trusting you with something of vital importance, my boy. See that old resentments don't cloud your judgment." The Headmaster's blue eyes were stern, and Harry wanted nothing more than to reassure him. However, he felt he couldn't quite muster up the right words, and instead gave a silent nod.
He followed Dumbledore to the fireplace, shrinking his trunk and pocketing it along the way. Nerves were causing his legs to feel no more solid than a block of jelly, and he had a fleeting thought to just run back out the door while there was still time. No one would really blame him, would they?
Yes, of course they would, he thought. Defeating a Dark Lord is hardly less important than a childish grudge.
He steeled his limbs and set his jaw, trying to give Dumbledore a look that told him he had nothing to worry about. He feared that he had managed to do nothing more than adopt a slightly pained expression. Dumbledore was polite enough not to show that he had noticed his nerves, and gave him a solemn, small bow before throwing floo powder into the grate.
"Good luck, Harry. I hope to see you return shortly," he said before calling out Harry's destination. "Spinner's End!"
Harry stepped into the roaring green flame, and felt his optimism spin away as fast as his body was spinning through the floo.
Harry stumbled unceremoniously out of the fireplace into a bare, dimly lit room that he guessed was some kind of kitchen-storage hybrid. Everything smelled damp, and dust lined large, old wooden shelves. They held bottles and bottles of plants, liquids, odd solid objects, all randomly thrown together along food items. He looked around the room with confusion; there were no sounds coming from anywhere in the house, and it appeared quite empty. Where was Snape?
As if on cue, Snape whirled out from a door Harry hadn't noticed in the corner of the kitchen. Snape looked about as pleased as he felt about being there, and Harry set his jaw, prepared for remarks that would likely irritate him beyond words.
"Mr. Potter," he said tightly, his voice just this side of strained. "I am going to give you a list of rules you must abide by. I will repeat them once, and only once. If you fail to adhere to them, I will have you Portkeyed back to Hogwarts before you can blink, and your one and only actual mission for the Order will be considered a failure." He flashed his teeth at Harry in a dark parody of a smile, as if to say that was thoroughly expected, and he was looking quite forward to it. "There are four rooms total that you are allowed in. The first is the room you are in currently, the kitchen. You may not touch anything on the shelves. If you have need for something, you will ask me. If I am unavailable, you will wait until I am not. You may pass through the sitting room, but you will touch nothing, and that includes the books on the shelves."
Harry grimaced. He could already feel a headache coming on.
"The second is the room you will be... residing in." He said the last words as if they had spilled sour milk into his throat. "The restroom is connected through a door on the far side of this room. I have prepared a cot and bedding. These will be washed and folded neatly every time you leave this room, or I will take them and burn them, and you shall not receive a replacement set," he said with a certain flourish, and Harry had absolutely no doubt in his mind that Snape would hold true to his word. "My quarters are across the hall from yours, but that is useless information, since you will not disturb me in my quarters at any time, for any reason." He finally finished and took a few strides towards Harry, his eyes dark and menacing. "Do not cross me, Potter," he said in a low, deep voice that reminded Harry of some kind of jungle animal. "One can't help but pick up certain skills as a spy for a Dark Lord."
Harry met his gaze with difficultly, finding himself just wanting to go rest somewhere. Snape gave him a last sneer before going to the door he had just exited from when Harry arrived.
"I've told you where your room is, Potter. Don't just stand there like an imbecile," the professor snapped, and Harry gave him an odd look.
"Sir," he managed through clenched teeth, "aren't we visiting the cave today?"
"There is currently a storm preventing our entrance. Unless you would prefer to drown?" Snape said, his voice taking on a sarcastic sort of hopefulness.
"No, sir," the younger boy said as he clenched his fist to his side.
"Then I suggest you find something to occupy your time." He opened the small wooden door and slammed it shut with a bang.
Harry was left in the damp, musty kitchen, idly wondering what poor choices he had made to have this sort of fate thrust on him. He supposed that maybe, if he made it back to Hogwarts in one piece, he would make a strong effort to be kinder to everyone, hoping karma would have mercy on him.
Harry had unpacked one of the books he had brought with him and sat on the cot - which was really more akin to a few large sacks of potatoes - and was reading, when Snape slammed open his door. Looking fairly amused by the start Harry gave, the professor chose to stay silent for a moment and soak up Harry's embarrassment.
Finally, after a fair amount of flushing, Harry asked in a flat tone, "Sir? Was there something you needed?"
"I am leaving. I have placed wards around everything except for the areas I have permitted you to venture, and will know the second you have breached them. You will also be rewarded with a nasty surprise."
Harry sighed and said nothing. He feared Snape was becoming far too pleased with this new arrangement.
"Are you going to look for Malfoy, then?" he asked, still very curious about the boy's whereabouts. Snape paled a shade, and snapped at him.
"That is none of your concern, Potter. Keep your fame ridden nose out of matters that it has no place venturing," Snape said sharply, his voice laced with venom that almost made Harry flinch. He turned in a quick motion, his black cloak creating a soft snap as he left Harry's room.
Harry set his book down on the bare wooden nightstand next to the cot, grimacing at the bare room. It had bare brick walls that lowered the temperature in the room by at least ten degrees, no decorations, no windows, and no furniture spare the bare table and the cot with one faded, scratchy wool blanket that gave Harry an itch that rivaled the miserable week when he had caught Dudley's chicken pox.
He decided it was no use just sitting there, and went to look around where he could. He walked out into the sitting room and looked at shelves packed full of a variety of books. Hermione would have fainted, and he frowned as he thought of her. She had been fairly put off when Harry had told her about the trip, claiming that she was of use too, and there was no reason for her to be left behind. He didn't want her harmed, and had done everything he could to dissuade her from trying to go with him. That had ended in a heated argument the night before, and he had regretted not saying goodbye to her this morning. Ron had been much less willing to volunteer himself to go, saying simply, "I'd rather spend my Christmas sitting naked in the Forbidden Forest."
At least Ron has some common sense, he thought dryly.
He was able to waste a good hour squinting in the dim candlelight of the sitting room reading book titles without getting too close to the shelves. The dust finally started to irritate his nose, and he left the room before he could sneeze on anything. He had decided he might as well try to figure out what the hell was in the jars in the kitchen when the front door abruptly slammed open, and Snape barreled through as if his coat was on fire.
"Potter, retrieve the linen from your cot and bring it out here, now," he said, his voice as close to frantic as he could imagine Snape sounding. The professor took long, quick strides to the kitchen and Harry jogged to his bare room, snatching the horrid wool blanket up quickly. His mind was racing and he was quite confused. Snape had shut the front door behind him, and had been alone. He couldn't imagine what the hell was going on.
He walked briskly back to the sitting room, just in time to watch Snape remove a Disillusionment Charm on the unconscious body of Draco Malfoy.