Chapter Seven
A/N: I'm back! After a brief vacation from writing (High School) I've finally posted this chapter! Hope you enjoy.
"Time is up." Professor Flitwick called from his podium at the front of the Great Hall. "Please pass your test forward."
Harry looked down at the parched he'd been writing on, or, more accurately, the way his writing seemed to cave downwards, and inspiration struck. Why can't we just use notebooks? He happily thought to himself.
Looking around, Harry noticed that everybody in the room was glaring holes in the back of his head, he was supposed to take the tests from the fourth occupant of the room, who was standing calmly by his desk. He long blonde hair hung down and her protuberant eyes were blue…"Luna?" Harry choked out; looking oddly at the witch who'd always struck him as not quite in the same place as he was. "What are you doing here?"
Luna looked down at harry with he slightly spaced looking eyes, "To hand these tests to you, of course." She said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world; which it probably was, causing Harry to grin, he liked this girl!
Far away, Hermione frowned.
"However if you're wondering why I'm here, I'm retaking my Second Year exams, trying to get a full one-hundred and forty-five per cent in Charms, but I fear I missed a question." She shrugged theatrically. "If you don't take the papers, the Flitter-winged Capulets hovering above Professor Flitwick will move to a different plane." She whispered in a conspiratorial tone.
Flushing, Harry took the papers, added his own to the pile, and extended his arm to place them in the waiting arms of Professor Flitwick, who dismissed them once he had the tests.
After Harry gave Flitwick the ballpoint pen he'd been using, he turned to leave, and ran into Luna Lovegood. "Hello Harry Potter." She said, her voice, as always, soft and spacey. "You have a lot of Centerwing Scatterbarbs around you." She said and, after grabbing something from right by his left leg, she turned and left, leaving a bemused Harry behind.
"She does have that effect on people." A gentle male voice said from behind him.
Harry spun around, drawing his wand as he did so…and replacing it in his right sleeve in one fluid motion after he saw whom it was. "Professor Flitwick." He nodded respectfully.
"Mister Potter," The aged Professor returned the nod. "I just ran a correction spell on your paper and found something interesting, follow." He beckoned to Harry and marched off to the high table usually reserved for teachers. "Observe." He presumably cast the spell again as the parchment glowed green for a moment before a number appeared over it. 87. Harry felt his stomach contract as he watched the percentage fade out of sight. "Now," continued the diminutive professor, "I didn't think that you could get that with just book study –as loathe as I am to admit it- so I looked through your test with a more advanced correcting charm." He cast that spell and the parchment glowed orange for a moment and a new number appeared. 93, Harry felt slightly better about it.
"Now, Mister Potter." Flitwick continued. "Imagine my amazement when your score went up after a more thorough examination, that rarely happens." He added by way of explanation. "So I decided to look at it myself." Harry vaguely wondered how long he'd spent talking with Luna." And I found that you gave an answer worthy of Miss Granger for every question –if she had been in here I would've suspected you were copying off her paper. You have received a ninety-eight per cent plus or minus two per cent. I believe that you made it into both classes, Mister Potter." A smile flitted across the short professor's genial face and Harry slowly released a breath that he hadn't known he'd been holding.
"Thank you for telling me, Professor." Harry said, earnestly grateful, and then he walked out of the Great Hall, leaving an impressed dwarf of a man behind.
Harry walked to Professor McGonagall's office, narrowly avoiding Peeves several times by ducking into passages only half-remembered, and arrived at her door panting, but happy. He knocked on her door and, after receiving a muffled "Come in" Harry walked into his Head of House's office.
He didn't make it into the office fast enough though; Peeves came darting up the hallway and, taking advantage of his half-solid form, lobbed a water balloon at Harry, hitting him in the exact centre of his back, drenching him, the floor around him, and dampening McGonagall's hat, of which she took no notice.
Professor McGonagall was reading over some parchment that had a handwriting he'd never seen on it, she looked up anxiously when he came into her office, and Harry quickly called upon his years being the Dursley's House Elf substitute. While he was bursting with happiness inside, on the outside he appeared thoroughly browbeaten and depressed, and he trudged in with a slight stoop to his back and shuffled.
"What happened Potter?" She said, then, more kindly, "are you all right, Harry?" Inevitably followed by: "Why are you all wet?"
"Hermione's gonna kill me." Harry wailed. "Not only did I do badly on a test, I broke my promise to her…to never, never… To never…" He over did it and started bawling theatrically, his face looking like one whose birthday had been revoked.
"Yes, yes. Get on with it, Potter." McGonagall said brusquely, trying to keep the conversation moving, and fretting about the fate of her favourite Seeker.
"I got a…I got a ninety-eight, plus or minus two percent." Harry said happily, his countenance completely changing from one who had just failed the great test of life to one who had surveyed the battlefield and saw only victory: his eyes brightened, his shoulders moved from their stooped position to a straight one, and his stoop turned into a proud stand.
McGonagall groaned into her hands, he was the son of James Potter, of course he was going to pull pranks, it was in his blood. Not to mention that he'd been living with Sirius Black for the summer. "Be gone with ye!" She cried at him, waving her hands at him. "I've nae seen anyone who got so worked up over a ninety-six to one-hundred on an exam, Hermione Granger included!" She threw her hands into the air in mock exasperation. "Get!" She cried as he stood, rooted to the spot, a grin forming on his face.
Harry's grin reminding her of James Potter after he pulled a particularly good prank on somebody, usually Severus Snape, and got away with it, he walked towards her fireplace and took a fistful of floo powder. He through it into the fireplace, and said, in a calm voice, "Home By The Sea!" And disappeared into the emerald flames, his eyes twinkling with unvoiced mirth.
Silently chuckling to herself, McGonagall looked back down at the parchment she'd been perusing, and smiled slightly to herself, it appeared that Ms Granger was a good influence on Harry, she hadn't seen him this happy since he' d been chosen for the house Seeker in his First Year.
Harry appeared in the fireplace of Sirius's Cottage -which he had named "The Home By The Sea"- in a flurry of ash and green flame. He looked around anxiously, not seeing anybody he cautiously walked into the kitchen, his mind working overtime trying to think up reasons for the absence of Hermione, Remus, and Sirius, but not coming up with any reasonable excuses. He looked up sharply at a sound that seemed out of place, a female voice, singing.
Checking his watch, Harry saw that it was only 0900, and he grinned to himself; Hermione was, during the summer months, a late riser; it had been only this summer, with it being only them and Sirius and Remus living under one roof, that Hermione had been going to bed late and waking up early. Hermione, if she had got her own way, would go to bed at 2300 every night and would wake up at 0900, getting a solid ten hours of that oh-so-vital sleep that Harry usually lacked large amounts of.
Looking around for Sirius and Remus, Harry made his way to the bedroom/office that he'd been using and was surprised to see or rather not, the ladder missing. He guessed that somebody had looked his room, something that he wouldn't have done if he were there. A flicker of movement at the edge of his vision, and Harry had his wand raised and levelled at the movement before he was conscious of the act. I'm getting jumpy, he noted.
He was surprised when Hermione stepped out of the shadows and raised her hands; grinning sheepishly, Harry lowered his wand.
He was surprised to then have an emotional Hermione run forward and embrace him like he was going to disappear from his sight forever. In fact, he was so surprised that he did little to soothe her –not that he had the best track record with doing that, but one must try- like he normally would've. Nor did he try to stop the hug that went on far too long past the limits that decorum among friends, even best friends, had set, not that he was in the mind to, he started to enjoy it too much.
He didn't feel anything past disappointment when she pulled back and looked him right in the eyes, her light brown eyes boring holes in his scalp as she looked at him with no small amount of concern. "Where were you!" She eventually said after a long pause in which they did no more but look at the other.
Harry fidgeted for a moment but then grinned widely. "I'm in Ancient Runes and Arithmancy." He finally said, his voice showing his immense pride at the achievement.
Hermione looked rather nonplussed at this news –no doubt thinking that it wasn't that big of an accomplishment to be transferred into the Third Year classes- until she, apparently, remembered that Harry had gone to Hogwarts earlier to test into the Fourth Year Classes for both of the aforementioned classes. Her cheeks then turned a deep shade of red that forced Harry to resist the urge to laugh out loud at her embarrassment, lest she start talking about some dangerous hexes and still hold on to her wand.
She then positively squealed with…delight?-Harry thought that it sounded like she was getting tortured, and dragging him into it, his eardrums hurt! And started talking very rapidly about how she would work out study schedules for both of them and how great it would be that they were taking a class, just the two of them! Harry had to force down a grin that threatened to blossom on his face at her antics, and he contented himself with the feeling of amusement that, no doubt, Hermione was also feeling.
Hermione then started for the stairs leading down to the Ground Floor at a brisk pace, looking very much like a woman on a mission, and leaving Harry to follow after her. Her countenance betrayed nothing, except that she was close to being late for something that she didn't want to miss, nor did she want Harry to know about it. Her mind being extremely organised was a helpful thing as it allowed her to cordon off sections of her mind from him and make it appear that it just wasn't there.
Harry looked down at his watch, it was 30 July, and he thought that he knew what was going on.
.oOo.
Auror (2nd Class) James Reynolds was the most widely respected auror in the Auror Corps. He was a perfect man in, almost, all situations. He did not drink heavily, he stayed away from Magi Candy, he did not smoke heavily, and he did not engage in any activities that the current public had labelled 'bad'.
But, that was a lie, a façade he put up for the rest of the world to see.
Reynolds was, in all actuality, a 'deep cover agent' in the words of the Intelligence Agencies of both NATO and the former Warsaw Pact; a man inserted to gain a good reputation inside the enemy's camp and get promoted to be in a high place, but actually be on the other side's payroll. His real name was Frank Delen, but don't bother searching any of the old trial records for him, he was only mentioned once, by Karkaroff, and that was thought of as an act of desperation, of a man trying to save himself from the veritable hell of Azkaban Prison.
In truth, he was a Death Eater, a pretty damn good one if he said so.
More importantly, he was a loyal Death Eater.
When the Mark faded from view, he didn't fear for his Lord, for he knew that he would come back, somehow.
When the Death Eater trials came, he made sure that the Death Eaters who were most important to his lord would get off on the Imperious Plea.
When the world started getting crazy, he placed his hope in his lord.
When the word that Peter Pettigrew was alive slipped through the ranks, he was there.
Yes, he was the man that let Pettigrew go free, he slipped a weakened sleeping potion into the guards' drinks –while it was cliché, the guards didn't think to look for it- and revealed himself to the frightened rat, whom he let free with the message that he was still loyal.
He then walked back into the room and raised the alarm, further insuring that he was beyond suspicion.
And he was currently under suspicion for his bank account, which, under the Goblins' supervision, had grown by leaps and bound. He had got a manager for his accounts that was actually good at his job, and they thought him corrupt!
He snorted into his drink, viciously suppressing the waves of laughter that would inevitable follow. He looked down at his watch, it was almost the time that the note he'd received had mentioned.
Yes, it was cliché, but that was probably why it worked so well. A man who relies on cliché is less likely to look out for cliché, and that blind spot made him vulnerable, more so than for the man who disbelieved everything just on principle.
"Mister Reynolds?" A man's voice said…What was his name…Johnston, Johannson?
Delen nodded his head, still trying to think of the man's name.
"Franklin Johnson, Special Investigator for the Ministry." The man identified himself, pulling out a small booklet and opening it to reveal his shield and ID card. "Please, stay seated." Then, taking his own advice to heart, Johnson sat down in the seat. "Do you smoke?" He asked pleasantly, taking out a pack of cigarettes that he'd bought on the way here. "No? Don't mind me then." He said as he pulled out one and magically lit it.
The smoke, however, contained a highly secret Truth Serum that was known only as Compound T-25, a highly upgraded version of Sodium-Pentathol, the Truth Serum of the muggle world.
"What is your name?" The man asked pleasantly.
"Frank Delen." Delen said blankly, trying to remember what his name was…James Reynolds! He thought desperately to himself, my name is James Reynolds!
"Frank Delen, eh?" The man said, writing down in his notebook. Then, he remembered the class he'd had to take before entering the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. "Stupefy." He muttered, pulling out a special-issue .38" diameter wand and pointing it at Delen/Reynolds.
His quarry stunned, he pulled out a portkey and activated it while holding on to Delen/Reynolds.
Merlin, he hated this job at times! But, other times, it was well worth the entire hassle!
.oOo.
"Remember, we will be having company tomorrow." Said Missus Weasley. "I don't know why Hermione hasn't arrived yet, but we will find out. Also, tomorrow, your father, Fred, George, and Ron will be floo-ing over to Harry's relatives' homes." She went on to say more, but it was basically a reiteration of the rules and what to do, et cetera.
Ron, though he didn't show it, was scared. His friend hadn't sent him any letters, and his mother's letter, which was sent the muggle way, wasn't replied to.
He didn't know where his friends were, but he had a feeling that he was forgetting something…Something important…
He'd figure it out later, for now he was hungry.
.oOo.
Harry walked down into the ground floor, his eyes alert and his wand halfway drawn. He looked around cautiously, trying to find any possibility of attack, whether by Death Eaters or other, less obvious, factions. He was relieved when he made it to the Kitchen, where Hermione told him to meet her, without incident.
Lights!
Action!
Movement!
Shape: Male, middle aged, holding wand, wearing black, saying words. Action: target.
"Stupefy, stupefy, stupefy, reducto, reducto, reducto, stupefy, stupefy, stupefy!" Harry said quickly and quietly, moving his wand in an erratic pattern, trying to hit the most area he could at the time.
Instead of the noises telling him that his spells had met their mark, he was surprised to hear a deep gong-like reverberation echo throughout the room. He saw his spells coming towards him.
"Protego!" He cried, forcing all the possible power into the spell.
The Reductor Curses hit first, slowly weakening the shield, but the shield held, barely. Then came the Stunners. All six of them were too much for the paltry shield that he'd conjured hastily, the shield broke along crack lines that had been visibly forming in the shield, showing its stress.
It was too much; the shield broke, and a single stunner got through.
Of course, by this time, Harry was sufficiently drained of his magic that it didn't matter much if the stunner hit him or not, as he would have dropped to the ground anyway. But, with it hitting him, it caused him to fall down, under the magical effects of a single stunning spell, while combating Magical Exhaustion.
As he fell, he thought he heard somebody scream, or yell out, something…Something important, if only he could latch on to the…
All he saw was blackness.
.oOo.
Hermione groaned inwardly to herself, she'd told Sirius and Remus that a surprise Birthday Party was not a good idea, but would they listen to her? No. They just wanted their fun, but…but now they had a teenager that was very different from at least 90 of all teenagers, both Yankees and English. So, they used a rebounding shield that Remus had looked up for that explicit purpose. So, they had a knocked out Harry, who also appeared to be exhausted, judging by his expression prior to falling.
Hermione just ground her teeth and walked over to her best friend, she wondered just how he kept on getting into these situations, but she wouldn't trade anything for him to not be her friend. She pulled out her wand and pointed it down at his temple. "Ennervate." She intoned quietly, after seeing Sirius do it to Harry she was reasonably certain of her ability to do the spell.
Harry's eyes fluttered open and looked at her briefly, his eyes focusing upon her face for a few seconds –in her mind it felt like half an eternity- before they closed again, a smile was on his face this time.
Hermione leaned down and picked him up, surprised at how light he actually was. She then walked with him over to the couch and dropped him unceremoniously upon it and took up residence at the far end of it, with his head in her lap.
Did life exist solely to dish out this to him? She thought as she looked down at his, for once, untroubled face.
.oOo.
I stand in a large room, it is curved so as to be bowl-like, in the center of the room is a large green orb, it is glowing blue and a field of some sort is pulsating out of it, extending to the outer perimeter of the room. I look to my side and I see that the door through which I presumably entered is no longer there.
"Lord Twilight," a voice rings out, "it is nice to see you finally. I am surprised, however, by your tardiness. Was it not made clear to you in our letter that you were to report at five o' clock and take your seat?"
I don't answer, I don't know how I can answer this lady. I only bow my head respectfully and open my mouth. "My apologies, Lady Midnight," I hear myself say, "I was…detained by an urgent matter that required my attention and time, I will endeavor to be on time next meeting." I don't know what I'm saying, just that a person using my voice is saying it.
"Next time? What makes you certain that you will live after this meeting?" A man says, "after all, you were almost destroyed by the Lord Dusk last week."
Then, I remember, I had fought Voldemort, Thomas Marvolo Riddle, last week, I was almost destroyed in the process, but he was destroyed, I destroyed him. I finger my oaken staff speculatively, my old Phoenix Feather wand was in the staff, but it did not react with Riddle's wand, when I searched his effects, it was gone.
"You." I whisper, my voice cold. "Precor Incandio!" I cry, and a tongue of flame erupts from my staff and surrounds the man who had spoken. "I will not be talked to that way, Lord Dusk, or, should I say, the Commoner Dusk!" I snarl at him. At an unspoken command, the flame tongue forms into a globe and surrounds the Commoner Dusk so that he is unable to move.
The back of my neck tingles and I look up, the Lady Midnight has drawn a sword, which I recognize as a rapier, and has started a charge towards me. With a wave of my hand, she is flung back wards, the point of her rapier…She is standing, the magic passing by her…My magic destroys her, which is more than I…I see the point of the rapier very clearly now…I am consumed by my own magic…
FLASH
I look up; I am in a manor, which I recognize as the Riddle Manor, my body is invisible, and I can see that none of the room's four occupants can I see me. I can make out Voldemort, Peter Pettigrew, an old man, and a large snake, I can hear Voldemort talking.
"Nice to see you again, gardener." He spits. "Now, Peter."
Peter levels his wand, "Avada Kedava!" He cries, and a green blast lances out of his wand and into the old man's chest. In that moment, Voldemort can see me.
I…
Harry screamed.
His forehead was on fire, that was something that he thought he could deal with, but this…this was a torture that far exceeded what he had thought of as Hell. He could see that he was on the couch near the kitchen at Sirius's house, not in Riddle Manor. He could feel warmth near him, a person. Hermione. He hugged her from his awkward position and held on tight, knowing, somewhere, that she was the only constant, and his only lifeline.
He knew what he was going to do, he knew that he was to become a killer. Not a murderer, after all, its not murder if you put down a rabid dog, and that's exactly what Voldemort was, a rabid dog. No normal person would take the pleasure that Voldemort did from torturing people, no normal person would believe in the complete genocide of a sect of humans. No normal person would kill for the sake of killing…No, Voldemort was far from normal.
He cared not that Sirius and Remus were running down the stairs, that he would be seen like this, a wreck, by other people, he only cared that he was holding on to Hermione. And that he would never let go.
A/N: Little choppy near the end, sorry 'bout that, but I've been playing more and more Civilization III and I haven't been able to type this up until now…Yeah, I'm in High School now, and, for once, I've finally gotten Homework, so, expect more updates than the Summer, but not as much as last school year… Sorry that this took so long…
