"While I thought that I was learning how to live, I have been learning how to die."
Leonardo da Vinci

Chapter 12 New Barriers

Harry clenched his fist around thin air, squeezing the life out of some unseen adversary within the quiet hospital wing. The silence was only broken by Kaylens' tranquil breaths, her chest rising and falling as steadily as the light breeze fluttering the curtains.

He'd been cooped up for days, still healing himself, and had been forced to watch her grow ever stiller. Surely he was trapped within one of the seven circles of hell, for each time he looked upon her his guilt rose like a fire, the flames threatening to consume him.

She had saved him. Despite everything he had screamingly accused her of, she had still nearly given her life for his.

Now she lay in this comatose state, and even Madam Pomfrey had been unable to rouse her.

Her skin still held the pallor of death, yet to him it seemed slightly rosier.

Perhaps it was his own wishful thinking.

He rose, unable to remain still, watching her with nothing save his thoughts for company.

Thoughts were such poor comfort...

Not allowed and unwilling to leave, he began sorting through the events of the past few days.

The vindication, the satisfaction, and everything he had expected to feel were conspicuously absent.

Bellatrix Lestrange was dead.

So why did he feel robbed?

The obvious answer came. Tonks had beaten him to the kill. She had killed the one person who's death he had desired above all but Voldemort himself. And now he would never have the chance to avenge Sirius the way he had wanted.

Worst of all, Lestrange's body was gone.

He had wanted to look upon the lifeless face of Sirius' killer and spit upon it.

Now even that cruel comfort had been taken from him.

All he was left with, were unanswered questions, and this cruel circle of hell called the Hogwarts hospital wing.

Still, the facts did not add up. Death Eaters held no loyalty for one another. To them nothing was sacred.

Yet they had salvaged the body.

There was no coming back from the killing curse...

So why do it?

He had unconsciously wandered, finding himself in front of the open third floor window. The autumn scented breeze blew across his bare chest, cooling him. His shirt lay discarded upon his bed, his shoulder gauze recently removed, exposing the claw marks that now indented his skin.

It was necessary, Madam Pomfrey had insisted upon having his wound exposed to the air. He was to be released soon, and she needed to ascertain that it would hold up on it's own.

His fractured scapula had been mended quickly, but werewolf wounds were slow to heal.

It was fortunate he had not been bitten, they had said.

Was he lucky? He was not sure. But even when Dumbledore and Tonks had come, he had felt nothing but hollow. His own apathy was almost enough to wish for death.

Only yesterday had Dumbledore's weathered eyes bored into his, recounting the events in full.

"Experimental spells, their effects unknown to the Order, have been added to Voldemort's arsenal of weaponry, Harry. Take heed..."

He would.

He had seen what happened to Lupin first hand, for his transformation had been triggered by the spell Lucius Malfoy had hit him with.

It had happened during the day...

Now, where Death Eaters roamed, the moon would no longer hold it's sway.

Harry shuddered in the breeze, contemplating the many horrors Voldemort might unleash in addition to daylight roaming werewolves.

Of course there was no need to speculate. Dumbledore had told him about the atrocities of late.

Forty seven innocents, four of them children, had walked upon the Earth. Now they lay beneath it's unforgiving soil, removed by the pitiless actions of Voldemort's minions.

Hermione's parents would soon join them, and his cold rational side realized that when it happened, part of Hermione's soul would be taken forever.

"The war is escalating Harry, far more swiftly than we ever expected..."

He was having trouble accepting any of it, for he knew at the heart of it, he was partly to blame.

For if he were truly the one with the power to defeat the Dark Lord, than every second he had ever spent reveling in life, and not searching for Voldemort's demise, had been another grave in the ground for the innocent.

A painful chill burned within the claw marks he bore, and he wondered if they had re-opened again, bleeding anew. He reached a hand back, gingerly touching it, the blood upon his fingers confirming his suspicions.

It was doubtful he would be permitted to leave soon.

"That's disgusting."

His froze, turning from the window. He stared, taking her in as she blinked the sleep from her eyes, squinting in the morning sunlight.

"Your awake." He stated, slightly stunned. He had begun to wonder if she ever would.

She smiled weakly. "Your observant."

"You were out for five days."

She paled considerably.

He was slow to recover, and debated getting Madam Pomfrey. But she would be back soon, to check on his own wounds. She could find her awake then. Besides, he was afraid to leave her alone for even a second, fearful that she might fall into that unending slumber once more.

"So how is it?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.

He studied her, thinking about how to answer. His pride made him hesitant to admit weakness, but her eyes...

She would discern a lie if he told it, he realized, deciding on the truth.

"Painful." He watched her eyes flicker shut. "You?"

"Like hell..." She murmured.

"You look it."

She graced him with a wry smile, a lock of hair falling into her eyes. She looked almost annoyed.

She reached up, brushing the lock aside, revealing her deathly pale skin. Her controlled movements exposed her own pain to him in a way no words could.

As did her wrist. His eyes caught upon the dark bruise encircling it.

He crossed to her, catching her wrist gently. She glanced up, hazel eyes narrowed in confusion.

"You bruise easily don't you?" He asked, cautiously turning her hand in his. It was so delicate he was afraid it would break further than it already had from her fall.

Her eyes traveled to where his fingers lay.

"Apparently." Her voice was so faint...

"Pomfrey said she had taken care of this." He whispered aloud, gently relinquishing her hand. She let it fall upon her pillow, besides her face. "Your bones may not have healed properly."

She flexed it back and forth, grimacing slightly. "It's fine."

"Right." He said skeptically, withdrawing to the bed across from her, sitting upon the taunt sheets.

It was funny, but had she had woken a few days earlier he probably would have demanded answers, answers about how she knew Lupin, about what she really did or did not know about Death Eaters, but after days of sitting there, watching her frail figure sleep, the mere thought of interrogating her bothered him.

His answers could wait, for a little while at least.

"Tonks stopped by earlier." He said, breaking the silence. "She said Lupin sends his love."

Her eyes opened hopefully. "So he's..."

"Yeah." He finished.

She sunk farther into the mattress. "Thank God. Finally something's gone right..."

She lay there, so still, for so long, he would have sworn she slept. It was part fear, fear that she would not awake, that drove him to the admission.

"You saved my life." He said quietly.

She stretched ever so slightly, the sheets sliding away to reveal her bare toes. Her face relaxed, almost serenely. "You saved mine first."

He wanted to argue, but lacked the heart, watching how her eyes broke from his, dancing away.

"That fall down the stairs you took... I probably wouldn't have held up."

Looking at how fragile she seemed, he realized she spoke the truth.

It was then that Pomfrey walked in.

He tore his eyes from her, and allowed Pomfrey to fuss over him willingly this time.


Several days later he had been prepped to leave. His left arm hung loose in a sling, preventing unnecessary movement.

Lupin's claws had torn into him just beneath his shoulder blade, right where several muscles came together. Apparently re-growing muscles was as tricky as re-growing bones.

He still needed to talk to Kaylens, but she slept. They had not shared a word since she had first awoken, content to sit there in silence. He was debating whether or not to break that silence when a frustrated looking Ron walked in.

Looking at Ron, he realized that there were other things that had to be taken care of first.

He had been dreading this conversation for days. Ron and Hermione would want answers. Answers about his absence... Answers about what had occurred in Dumbledore's office days earlier... Answers about Voldemort's intrusions into his mind...

Answers he could not give.

How could he explain the pressure he felt, or Voldemort's intrusions, without revealing the contents of the prophecy?

How could he explain what had gone on at Sirius', without revealing all he had seen?

And how could he explain why Hermione's parents had been taken from her? They would never accept 'because of me' as an answer.

He threw a last glance at Kaylens' sleeping form. They would talk later. He promised himself that.

He and Ron stepped into the hall. It was mercifully vacant, making the stone-lined corridor appear longer than usual.

It had been over a week since he and Kaylens had disappeared from the Headmaster's office, and one of the last warm weekends of the year had driven the student body outside.

As for him, during that time, Voldemort had left his mind alone. He had felt the beginnings of an intrusion days earlier, but Riddle had withdrawn, sensing that his decision had not yet been made.

Riddle had given him more time due to his injury, and for that, Harry had to give him credit.

As evil as Voldemort was, the creature had some class.

They walked in silence, Ron's eyes darting towards him. He knew Ron was trying to decide what was safe to discuss.

Harry decided to spare him the awkwardness. "How's Hermione?"

Ron shrugged despondently. "How do you think she's doing?"

"Not good." The absence of people made the corridor cavernous, and his breath echoed quietly.

"Harry what's going on?"

I wish I knew Ron... His own frustration at this very question had been building inside for days. Dumbledore had told him some, but there was still the question of Kaylens. How did she fit into all of this? Did she even? And Voldemort... There had to be more to it, because the pieces Dumbledore had told him did not fit with what he had seen through Voldemort's own eyes.

Not to mention the prophecy. How in the hell was he supposed to beat him?

There were too many questions to answer, before the most important ones could even be framed.

They walked the rest of the way in silence.

Hermione was there, waiting for them in the empty dormitory, sprawled out with a book on Ron's bed. Her eyes were rimmed with dark circles, similar to Kaylens.

Misery loves company, he thought. Ron sat besides her, placing a hand on her back. Only then did she seem to realize they were there.

"Harry...H-how are you?"

He smiled for her benefit. "The question is, how are you?"

She shrugged, re-burying her nose into her book. "They wouldn't let us see you."

"I know."

"Why?" Ron asked.

Harry dropped his bag onto the bed, and began removing the few belongings Pomfrey had brought down for him. "Dumbledore's orders." His eyes would not meet theirs.

Ron frowned. "His reason?"

So he could have time to brief us on what we could or could not say to you, he thought.

"He didn't want us seen. We weren't in..." He shrugged with one shoulder. "No one should have seen us after it okay?"

Hermione's eyes roamed, landing on his sling.

He caught the unspoken question. "Werewolf wounds are slow to heal."

They both looked at him as if he were a new species.

"W-were you...?" Ron stammered.

"No. I was not bitten."

Hermione looked skeptical. "Harry that's not possible."

"Why?" She cringed at his forcefulness.

"Because the full moon isn't until..."

"This weekend. Yes I know 'Mione."

"Then how could a werewolf..."

His expression turned grave. "There are ways."

Hermione was no longer even trying to read, her voice unusually high. "That can't be. A werewolf can't change out of lunar sequence..."

"Don't be so sure of that." He said bitterly.

Ron looked between them. "How? How could it Harry?"

Harry stared him down, unblinking. "Voldemort."

Ron's blue eyes widened, his freckles standing out against his paling skin, putting two and two together. "So when you and Kaylens went to see Lupin..."

"He turned. Yes."

"Merlin..." Ron whispered, unconsciously rubbing Hermione's back harder.

"Harry I don't understand." She said haltingly, shoving her book away, it's pages flapping lifelessly as it fell to the floor. She spared it not a glance. "Please Harry. What's going on?"

"Too much to explain easily 'Mione."

Ron took Hermione's hand almost naturally. "Then take your time mate. Start from the beginning."

Harry shook his head, hating himself. "Fine, the beginning then..." He steadied himself, and met Hermione's almost pleading gaze.

"You both already know that Voldemort has not given me a moment's peace since last summer. It's a private battle between him and I. Were both fighting for information, about the other side's comings and goings, about how much the other side knows..."

He talked steadily, opening his dresser drawer to put clothing away. His actions, however menial, lent a sense of normality to the otherwise ominous conversation.

"Your parents 'Mione, he said he will release them..." He ignored her intake of breath. "If I tell him what the contents of the prophecy were."

Her expression drooped. "But how could you? It broke..." She glanced at Ron, searching for confirmation, repeating herself now. "You can't know what it said. Could you?"

He found himself nodding. "Yes Hermione. It broke. But I still know what it said."

The silence that followed occupied years within his mind, yet it lasted no more than 3 seconds.

"What did it say?" She questioned cautiously.

He remained silent, until her pleading voice broke again.

"Harry, please..."

"Don't ask me Hermione, not again. It is something I cannot share."

The betrayed looks upon their faces nearly broke his spirit.

Hermione's mouth opened and closed wordlessly. It was Ron who finally gave voice to their thoughts. "Why Harry? Why can't you share it?"

"You would not want to hear it."

"How could we not? Harry this is all we've worked for! Did it say how we can beat him..."

He swallowed hard. "No Ron."

"Then why won't..."

"No."

Ron's voice was hard. "Then if not us, him? It could save 'Mione's..."

The accusation in Ron's voice was too much. He could take no more. "Because I can't Ron! Don't you think I would if I could?"

Ron shook his head. "I don't know anymore Harry..."

Harry was having trouble keeping his voice level. "Ron, if I tell him there is no reason for him to keep the Grangers alive anymore. It's our biggest bargaining chip."

Hermione sounded so small now. "But V-voldemort said he'd...He'd l-let them g-go..."

His jaw dropped. Hermione was smarter than this wasn't she? "I'm sorry Hermione but once I tell him..."

"He'd let them go." Ron interrupted. "Make him release one at least Harry! Then tell him for God's sakes! What could it hurt! Bargain with him!"

Harry lost his patience. "Don't you guys get it! This is Voldemort we are talking about!" They both cringed at the name, his voice rising. "This isn't some war game were playing against the Slytherins! This is real life! Voldemort is eviler that either of you can even imagine..."

"Really?" Ron countered. "Were we or were we not there with you Harry? Huh? Did we not see what he was capable of at the Department of Mysteries?"

Harry shook his head, never more serious. "No Ron. You didn't." He felt almost sorry at Ron's crestfallen look. "You only saw what Death Eaters were capable of. That is nothing compared to him."

"Harry then why don't you just tell us how he..." Hermione started miserably.

"Because Hermione! There's no way to explain it..."

"There's no need to yell at her mate." Ron said coolly.

He laughed bitterly. "Oh but there is Ron. Because after everything we've been through you'd think you would both trust my judgment on this..."

"No." Ron squeezed Hermione's hand and stood. "Because we remember where your judgment got Sirius."

Harry felt as if his insides had frozen. There was no arguing this.

"If you had only listened to Hermione it wouldn't have happened." Ron continued icily. "And now your hesitation concerning this prophecy may get her parents killed as well."

Hermione had begun tugging on his hand frantically. "Ron..."

"No Hermione. He needs to hear this. Because it's like he doesn't even trust us..."

"I do trust you..." Harry whispered.

Ron's eyebrows raised so far they disappeared beneath his hair. "Really! Then why did you hardly breath a word to us all summer? Why won't you talk to us now?"

"I am talking..."

"No. Your blocking Harry. Like in chess." Ron pointed his wand out the door, summoning the chess board from the common room. Levitating it, Ron cleared the board save for the pawns, king, and queen of both sides, his brow furrowed in concentration. He then moved the pawns so they protectively surrounded the king and queen on one side, leaving the other side's king and queen unprotected.

"The way I see it Harry, all you have left are pawns." Ron continued, gesturing to the protected side of the board. "So instead of risking everything to take my king, you're protecting yours."

Ron moved a pawn on Harry's side away. "You're afraid that if you move your pawns for a second, that I might get in and take your king."

Ron's queen shot forward, moving through the opening Harry's pawn had left, taking his queen out with a violent whack of her chair. She then stood, posed to take his king on the next move.

"The king represents everything your keeping from us Harry." He continued seriously. "You won't let your king be taken, because if that happens..."

The chess board folded in on itself, slamming to the floor.

"Game over."

Harry shook his head, unable to deny Ron's accusation.

He was right. And for the first time Harry realized how truly different he was from them.

He loved them, but Ron and Hermione could never share his burden, no matter how much they wanted to.

The sound of the metaphorical wall falling between them filled his mind, and Ron spoke again.

"Game over Harry. Only you're the only one who knows what game were playing."


Harry tromped through the corridor, feeling worse than he had thought possible. He preferred feeling numb, at least then he felt nothing at all.

They simply did not understand. Not that he had expected them to. Things were too dangerous now. Voldemort had made a hobby out of extinguishing anyone close to his heart, and he was not about to fill Ron and Hermione's heads with anything that might make them more tempting targets than they already were.

Which was why he had flat out refused to divulge anything else, and held his ground about not revealing the prophecy to Voldemort. Not even for Hermione...

Ron had stormed out telling him to 'keep his secrets' and Hermione had plead with him to 'not shut them out.'

The choice was no longer his.

No longer would they be privy to Harry Potter's bad decisions.

They wouldn't end up like Sirius.

He knew exactly where he was going, and rounded the corner to the hospital wing. His foul mood only increased when Madam Pomfrey stuck out her head, a forced smile plastered upon it, and asked him to wait.

The door slammed and the sound of argument resumed. Dumbledore's voice caught his attention. What was he doing in the hospital wing? Perhaps to see Kaylens, but he had already visited them once. It wasn't like the Headmaster to visit students though. And he should know, he had been in the hospital wing too many times to count, but could count Dumbledore's visits there on one hand.

A disturbing thought struck him. What if Kaylens had gotten worse?

He reached into his pocket and withdrew the extendable ear he had taken to carrying at all times. His decision made he slipped it beneath the door.

Madam Pomfrey's reproving tone came out clearly. "...cells need to regenerate before you can even attempt to perform magic again."

"But I'm behind enough as it is!" Kaylens... A twisting wave of relief washed through him. And to think, normally he had trouble resisting the urge to mute her...

Dumbledore spoke now. "Miss Kaylens I don't think Remus would want you over-exerting..."

"Well I'm not particularly concerned with what he thinks at the moment."

The silence was palpable, and he shifted nervously. She was okay, now that he knew this he really shouldn't be listening...

Yet something about Dumbledore's tone made him. As outwardly honest as the Headmaster had been with him lately, his faith in the man was still recovering. It had been shattered too skillfully the previous year.

"Kalliandra, we did not want you burdened with this."

"Considering that I'm the one you can't cure, don't you think that should have been my decision?"

Cure? His stomach lurched dangerously.

"Kalliandra, looking at it as a death sentence will not help matters."

Her voice was strained. "Your right. Nothing will. You know that the odds..."

"Are only as good as you make them." Dumbledore finished. "That is precisely why we did not want to burden you with this."

"I'd prefer the burden." Kaylens hissed, her voice suddenly stronger. "Now is there anything else your keeping from me?" Her voice was strained and accusatory. "Because I'd like to know before I read about it in some stupid book."

Silence.

"I thought so."

His entire body shook unsteadily. So much so that the approaching footsteps did not register until the door had swung open in front of him, revealing a pale looking Kalliandra.

He could only stare, words abandoning him. Her eyes had caught on the extendable ear.

Her garment bag slipped down on her shoulder, her entire form quivering.

"Potter..." She whispered chokingly. She locked eyes with him, her expression stunned.

A second later she was gone. The glistening of her eyes the harshest reproach he had ever seen.