AN: JKR's words are hers yada yada...
Sorry this chapter is a little late. I took a well-deserved break from writing MV for a week, and this one still had a bit of work to do on it. Anyway, thank you so much for all the reviews (somehow there's over a hundred now wow)! I appreciate every one of them, and I'm really glad you've all stuck with me.
Also (I've been meaning to mention this for a while oops), I crosspost every chapter to my Dreamwidth account, and I have a forum, so if you have any burning questions or want a response to a specific review, feel free to check those out. I might not answer every question, depending, but I'll do my best to respond! :)
Memento Vivere
Chapter X / The Test
Was this why Dumbledore would no longer look him in the face? Did he, too, believe that Harry was being possessed, that he would look into Harry's eyes one day and see slitted red looking back at him?
I'm not being possessed! Harry thought desperately, but he was believing it less and less every second. Hadn't this been exactly what they'd been afraid of weeks ago, when he had cast an unknown spell at Malfoy? He still did not know where that spell might have come from; he couldn't remember all the books he'd looked through last year.
He couldn't bring himself to look at the others around him as they rode the underground back to the station near Grimmauld Place. He had been the one to insist that it was nothing, that it had just been stress, that he must have found the spell in a book and forgotten about it until that moment. He had been the one to insist that it was not possession and now...
But it's not possession! Harry's thoughts screamed desperately.
A truly terrible thought occurred to him, a memory from earlier in the year bobbing to the forefront of his mind.
"What's he after apart from followers?"
"Stuff he can only get by stealth...like a weapon. Something he didn't have last time..."
It was him. He was the weapon. Perhaps it had been possession after all, but even if it was not...Harry could not shake the feeling that he had still had something to do with what had happened in October. The certainly of this settled in Harry's stomach like a lead weight. His scar only burned when Voldemort was involved, and it had definitely burned that night.
"Are you all right, Harry, dear?" whispered Mrs. Weasley, leaning across Ginny to talk to him as the train rattled out of a dark tunnel. "You don't look very well. Are you feeling sick?"
Harry shook his head, but he kept his gaze firmly on his shoes and the floor in front of him.
He did feel ill. And he felt very, very alone. He had no one to truly confide in. He did not want to see his friends' looks of horror and worry when they looked at him. He could not discuss this with anyone in the Order or they would know they had been listening in outside the hospital door. He had not told Malfoy or Sanguini about the visions, and he very well could not write to Malfoy anyway, even if he'd wanted to now.
The whirling of his thoughts hesitated. He had not told Sanguini yet, but there was no reason he couldn't. He'd only refrained before because he didn't really want to share outside the tiny circle of people with whom he'd had no other choice. Sanguini wasn't really in that circle.
But now...now he desperately wanted another opinion. He wanted to know what someone on the outside would think. Someone who could form an opinion right there on the spot as he had only minimal knowledge of this before.
"Harry, dear, are you sure you're all right?" said Mrs. Weasley as they walked around the patch of unkempt grass in the middle of Grimmauld Place. "You look ever so pale...Are you sure you slept this morning? You go upstairs to bed right now, and you can have a couple hours' sleep before dinner, all right?"
Harry nodded silently, glad for this ready made excuse to be alone for a little while. He would need some time to collect his thoughts and write down everything from the beginning, starting with last summer, when the visions had first started, and ending with the event of early this morning. If he was going to tell Sanguini everything, it was going to be everything.
As soon as Mrs. Weasley opened the front door, Harry was making his way inside and across to the stairs, which he took two at a time in his hurry to get upstairs to his and Ron's bedroom.
As soon as he was inside, he shut the door and dashed over to his trunk. He had only begun to dig through his clothes when he was struck by another awful thought—the journal would not be in here. He had been keeping it practically under his pillow for months now. It would still be sitting there, on his bed in Gryffindor Tower, because he had not been planning to pack for the holiday until tonight.
It was not the end of the world that it would still be laying on his bed. He had charmed it within weeks of arriving back at school so only he could read what was inside, as a precaution.
But it did mean that it would not be here for him to write in now, when he desperately needed it.
The mirror, on the other hand, lay safely inside his invisibility cloak in a corner of his trunk. He had rarely bothered to pull it out while he was at Hogwarts, as it would look far less suspicious to be seen writing in a journal than talking silently into a mirror. He could still talk to Sanguini, but it would have to wait until everyone else was asleep.
He got to his feet in a fit of restlessness and began pacing. He did not want to wait until late into the night. He felt as though he might burst if he could not let everything out as soon as possible.
Everyone else thought Voldemort was possessing him. He thought that might be pretty likely too—even ignoring the event in October, he kept having these visions looking out through Voldemort's eyes, and last night he had been been the snake to attack Mr. Weasley...
Harry paused, staring at Phineas Nigellus' empty frame. It was true that in his latest vision, he had not been Voldemort at all, but rather a snake he strongly suspected had been Nagini. And he had no idea how he could have been looking out of the snake's eyes. But his other visions this year had both been from Voldemort's perspective, and he had not left the school during either of them. Malfoy had told him he'd had to curse him to keep him quiet and still, so he had had obviously not gone anywhere.
Last night, his vision had been far more real than the others...he had felt quite certain that he was the snake, that he had been there, wherever Mr. Weasley had been...but if he had not left the school during either of his other visions, what would have made this one different...?
But Dumbledore, and therefore the Order, did not know about at least one of those visions, and Harry had not been able to remember much about the one they might have heard about. They would only know about the event in October, where possession was a very real possibility. Coupled with this vision and how Harry had made it very clear that he had been the snake, of course they would think that's what it was.
Harry sank to the floor in the middle of the room, his sudden fit of restlessness gone as quick at it had come. He could not tell them about those visions. They could very well already know what had happened those two nights anyway, through Snape. But he could not tell them himself. He was an awful liar, and there were some very perceptive people in the Order. Even if he tried to pretend he did not know who Christopher was, he was sure to give something away.
He would just have to insist that Voldemort was not possessing him. Like had had been insisting since October. That was not what it was. That was not what was happening.
He glanced at his trunk, irritated, for no good reason, that Sanguini would be asleep right now. He would surely have some idea of what was really going on, and Harry trusted him to be willing to share.
"Thinking about running away, I suppose?"
Harry started and stared up at the empty picture frame, which was no longer empty. Phineas Nigellus had returned to it and now stood leaning against the frame, inspecting his silk gloves with a look of immense boredom.
Harry scowled at him. "Why would I?"
"Oh, I don't know, I've always found it to be quite a bit more intelligent to look out for your own neck when your life's been put in danger."
"It's not my life that's been in danger," Harry said, slowly getting to his feet. He did not really feel like staying here if he was just going to be heckled by Sirius's unpleasant great-great-grandfather.
Phineas gave him an amused glance. "Gryffindors. You never were able to see past the ends of your own noses."
Harry sneered at him and turned to leave. He had just reached the door and laid his hand on the doorknob when Phineas spoke up again.
"I have a message for you from Albus Dumbledore," he said lazily. "As it happens."
Harry spun around. "What is it?"
"Stay where you are."
Harry blinked at him, and when he did not continue, scowled again. "I haven't moved! What is it?"
"I have just given it to you, you dolt," Phineas said casually. "Dumbledore says, 'Stay where you are.'"
Harry stared at him. That could not possibly be it. After all these months and everything Harry had been through, Dumbledore could not possibly be telling him the same damned thing he had been silently telling Harry the whole time.
"That's it?" he demanded incredulously.
"The entirety of it," Phineas said, looking bored again.
Harry felt his rage rise up in a flood and crash down upon him. Before he knew it, he was shouting. "That's it? Just stay there? That's all anyone would tell me after the dementors too! Never mind that you almost died, Harry, just stay put and let the adults sort it all out, only we won't tell you anything because your little brain might not understand!"
"You know," said Phineas Nigellus, even more loudly than Harry, "this precisely why I loathed being a teacher! Young people are so infernally convinced that they are absolutely right about everything. has it not occurred to you, my poor puffed-up popinjay, that there might be an excellent reason why the Headmaster of Hogwarts is not confiding every tiny detail of his plans to you? Have you never paused, while feeling hard-done-by, to note that following Dumbledore's orders has never yet led you to harm? No. No, like all young people you are quite sure that you alone feel and think, you alone recognize danger, you alone are the only one clever enough to realize what the Dark Lord may be planning..."
Harry had been prepared to sneer back that he didn't care about any of that, all he wanted was to know that Dumbledore still cared if he was in danger, but the last few words made all that die in his throat. "He is planning something to do with me, then...?"
"Did I say that?" Phineas said, looking over his fingers again. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have better things to do than to listen to adolescent agonizing...Good day to you..."
And he strolled out of his frame and out of sight.
Harry sank back down to the floor, leaning heavily back against the door. He didn't care about staying here—he had never been planning to leave—but he would have appreciated a bit of concern from the headmaster, who was apparently so very busy looking out for Harry's well-being that he could not spare a moment to check up on him himself. And he did not want to hear that Voldemort was planning anything, especially today, right now, during that particular burst of outrage.
He gave his trunk another frustrated glance. Now he was feeling rather desperate to speak to Sanguini. Maybe he would have something to say about Voldemort's supposed plans as well.
His eyes slipped closed on their own. He felt exhausted...he could hardly believe that less than twenty-four hours ago, he had been awkwardly kissing Cho Chang under the mistletoe and worrying about why she was crying the whole time...he felt his breathing begin to slow and tried to open his eyes again...but it was no use...he was so tired...
He was walking down a dark, deserted corridor toward a plain black door, past rough stone walls with torches and an open doorway onto a flight of stairs leading down into darkness on the left...
He reached the black door but could not open it...He stood gazing at it, desperate for entry...Something he wanted with all his heart lay beyond...a prize beyond his dreams...if only his scar would stop prickling...
WHAM!
"Harry! Sorry! I didn't mean—what're you doing behind the door?"
Harry groaned and fell forward, clutching the back of his head. Behind him, Ron's panicky voice babbled on.
"I mean, how was I supposed to...could've knocked, I guess...are you all right?"
"I'm fine, Ron," Harry muttered, rubbing at his head. It was interesting, feeling like his head would split open from the other side for once.
He heard Ron shift awkwardly. "Er...Mum says dinner's ready, but she'll save you something if you don't...want to come down just yet..."
Harry did not answer right away. He was still busy nursing his head. Did he want to go down, where he would surely be assaulted by nervous and worried looks from people who really ought to know better because as he had been saying the whole time, there was nothing wrong?
He carefully got to his feet and glanced at his trunk a third time. Then he sighed and turned to follow Ron out the door and down the stairs. It would probably be better than staying up here with only his thoughts and the sinking sun to keep him company.
Harry did not have a chance to talk to Sanguini that night. After dinner, Ron managed to talk him into a game of chess, which quickly turned into several games while Ginny sat by and gave purposefully poor advice to the both of them and the twins and Sirirus chatted in low voices in a corner. None of them brought up what they had overheard in the hospital, and while it felt very much like an elephant in the room, Harry was grateful he did not have to talk about just yet.
They did not head upstairs to bed until Harry was beginning to find it difficult to keep his eyes open. He yawned once, and Mrs. Weasley was ushering them up the stairs. Harry noticed as he entered their bedroom that Phineas had returned, probably to keep an eye on him, and was leaning boredly against his frame again. Harry scowled at him and made a grand show of pulling on his pyjamas so he could rescue the mirror from his trunk without anyone noticing. He would just have to hide under his covers as he spoke to Sanguini.
At least, that was the plan. The reality was that one moment, Ron was turning out the lights and Harry was slipping into bed, and the next, Ron was calling to him from the doorway that breakfast was almost ready.
Harry regretfully hid the mirror under his pillow as he left. He felt a little less panicked and restless now that he'd had a good night's sleep, but he still felt that it was about time Sanguini learned about this.
They spent most of the day doing some last minute cleaning and putting up Christmas decorations. Sirius, thrilled that he would have company other than Kreacher for the holiday, led this effort with unbridled enthusiasm; he could hardly be found staying in one place for much of the day and the house echoed with badly sung Christmas carols. Harry found his enthusiasm quite infectious, and he threw himself whole-heartedly into the distraction of decorating along with him.
Around six-o'clock, the doorbell rang and Hermione was hurriedly ushered in. Harry offered to help her carry her things upstairs to the room she shared with Ginny, only partially so she wouldn't immediately hear that apparently Dumbledore thought he was being possessed too.
"What happened to skiing in France?" he asked as they made their way up the stairs.
"Well, to tell the truth, skiing's not really my thing," she said, shaking the snow out of her hair. "So I've come for Christmas. But don't tell Ron that, I told him it's really good because he kept laughing so much."
They reached the first landing and turned into the room opposite the doors to the drawing room.
"Anyway," Hermione said, setting her bag down on the bed nearest the door, "Mum and Dad are a bit disappointed, but I've told them that everyone who's serious about the exams is staying at Hogwarts to study. They want me to do well, they'll understand."
They turned to leave again and nearly ran into Ron and Ginny, who had appeared at the top of the stairs with a large plate of sandwiches. Ron shifted a bit awkwardly, but Ginny determinedly walked over and ushered them both back into the room.
"Now Hermione's here, we really ought to talk, Harry, don't you think?" she said.
Harry scowled at her but obediently turned back around and sank to the floor next to Hermione's bed.
Once they were all inside and settled and the door was shut and the plate of sandwiches was placed on the floor in the middle of all of them, Ginny nodded to Hermione with a smile. "You first, Hermione."
Hermione looked a bit startled, but it passed quickly enough. "Well, Dumbledore told me what happened first thing yesterday morning, but I had to wait for term to end officially before setting off. Umbridge is already livid that you lot disappeared right under nose, even though Dumbledore told her Mr. Weasley was in St. Mungo's, and he'd given you all permission to visit."
"Umbridge is always livid with everything I do," Harry said. "Sort of her natural state of mind by now."
Hermione smiled very slightly. "Honestly, I think she was just as upset with Dumbledore. So...what's happened here? Professor McGonagall let me know Mr. Weasley's going to be okay..."
Ron and Ginny glanced at each other, then at Harry. Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He had been hoping they would simply never have this conversation at all. He had managed to put it off for more than a day.
"Well, we went to visit Dad yesterday, once we found out he'd be okay..." Ron started hesitantly.
"Moody and Tonks came with us, you know, as a guard," Ginny continued, "and they had a moment alone with Mum and Dad, to talk about Order stuff."
"But you know Fred and George, they had the Ears handy, so we were able to listen in a bit. St. Mungo's doesn't make a habit of putting Imperturbable Charms on their doors..."
Ron trailed off, looking awkward. Ginny was staring at Harry with a slight frown on her face.
Harry decided he was going to say something before either of them could, so they would know right away how he felt about all this. He crossed his arms and glared at the far wall. "Dumbledore and the Order all think I'm being possessed too."
Hermione's mouth opened in a small "oh" and she glanced at Ron and Ginny with a significant look. Harry wished they would stop doing that, at least while he was around.
"Well, I'm sure they can't really think that," Hermione said carefully. "Not about this last vision anyway. Obviously, that wasn't the case this time—"
"It hasn't been the case any time!" Harry said viciously. "I'm not possessed, Hermione. I think I'd know if I was."
"Harry, what happened with Malfoy—" Ginny began, but she faltered when Harry suddenly shot to his feet.
"I told you, it was just stress," he said stiffly. "I'd been under a lot of it then, you remember."
Ginny scowl back at him and got to her feet as well. "Look, we're just trying to look out for you—"
"Well, I don't need it, all right?" Harry said, shaking slightly. "It's bad enough Dumbledore won't look at me and the Order all think Voldemort's in my head, I don't need you lot thinking it too. It's not...it's just the same connection I've always had to him. That's all it is. So drop it, would you?"
And with that, he wrenched the door open and stalked out of the room. He did not glance back as he stomped up the stairs to the second floor. He just wanted to be alone for now, especially if his friends were just going to agree with Moody.
He flopped down on his bed and scowled up at the ceiling. What he really would have liked was to be able to talk this over with Dumbledore, to find out what he really thought might be happening. Obviously it wasn't just the same old connection to Voldemort he'd always had, but how much of that was because he had a body now and how much was something else entirely? Why was he suddenly seeing through Voldemort's eyes, when before he had always been an outside observer? Did the event in October have anything to do with all this? But Dumbledore had not even looked at him or seemed willing to answer any questions when they had seen each other immediately after one of his visions, so why would he bother at any other time?
And if Dumbledore did ever actually look him in the eyes again...
Harry's insides squirmed uncomfortably. He had done exactly that two days ago, and Harry had felt an immense desire to bite him the way he had Mr. Weasley. But surely that was only because the vision was still fresh in his mind...
He shifted and felt the hardness of the mirror through the pillow behind his head. Tonight he would call Sanguini and talk to him. Maybe he couldn't have Dumbledore's opinion, but surely Sanguini would have some idea of what was going on, once he had all the facts.
He would have to wait until Ron was asleep, though, just in case.
He lay there staring up at the ceiling, turning over what he wanted to say in his mind, for what seemed like hours. Every so often, Phineas would make a small noise in his picture, but Harry determinedly ignored him. He had no interest in getting into another shouting match with the snooty ex-Headmaster, especially when neither of them had anywhere else to go.
Finally, the handle jiggled and Ron slowly stepped into the room. Harry turned onto his side so he was facing away from the door as much as possible. He did not want to talk to Ron just yet. He wanted to pretend for just a little longer that his friend would have come to his senses.
"Harry..." Ron said, trailing off weakly. Harry heard him quietly shut the door and lock it. Then he took in a deep breath and continued on in a slightly more confident tone of voice, "Hermione said she reckons you might be right, that possession's not really the right word for it and we probably shouldn't jump to conclusions just 'cause we don't know what's going on. So it's...it's still on the table, but we won't bring it up any more, all right?"
Harry hunched a bit closer to the wall in response. It was probably the best compromise he could hope for, but that didn't mean he wanted to talk to anyone until after he'd talked to Sanguini and had some sleep.
After a moment, Ron sighed slightly and shuffled off to his bed. Another minute and he was turning out the light and sliding into bed.
Harry waited until he'd heard Ron's snoring for a solid ten minutes. Then he carefully got up to quickly switch out into his pyjamas, and then he got into bed and pulled the covers up over his head and his pillow, so he could pull the mirror out in complete secrecy.
His heart was suddenly beating very fast. He curled up on his side and held the mirror out in front of him under the covers.
"Sanguini."
The surface of the mirror rippled, and in a moment, he was looking through his small window into Sanguini's cottage. The mirror on Sanguini's side looked to be laying on his desk; all Harry could see was the slatted golden wood of the ceiling.
But in a moment, a hand appeared to grab the mirror and move it so Harry could see his friend clearly. Sanguini smiled at him and bowed his head once in greeting. "Revolution, Harry?"
It took Harry a moment to figure out what he could be referring to. He felt like he had lived a lifetime since he had left that short note for Sanguini three days before the end of term. And then he took another moment to scrutinize Sanguini's appearance, to see if he could figure out how he felt about the idea. Sanguini looked thinner than the last time they had spoken like this and he had dark circles under his eyes, but his dark eyes were glittering with new life.
Harry grinned slightly. "That's the plan. But that wasn't what I wanted to talk to you about. Are you busy?"
Sanguini regarded him thoughtfully for a moment. Then he shook his head with a small smile. "I am never too busy for you. What is it?"
"I need to tell you something. I should have told you ages ago. And I need your opinion on it too."
Sanguini nodded once. "I'm listening."
Harry took a deep breath and began. He talked about his first vision, two summers ago when Voldemort had been hiding out with Wormtail in his dead father's manor. He talked about the one he'd had later that year, just before the Third Task, when Voldemort had received a letter from Barty Crouch Jr. detailing that he had killed his father and set their plan back on the right foot (although Harry had not known that was what the letter contained at the time). He mentioned all the times this year when his scar had burned and he'd felt an unfamiliar emotion along with it—the night before their ride back to school, during his first set of detentions with Umbridge, several weeks later after Quidditch practice. He brought up the moment during his duel with Malfoy again, though briefly, as he had already told Sanguini about that.
He faltered for a moment when he came to the first real vision he'd had this year, but he dutifully continued on and told Sanguini everything he could remember about it, which did not amount to much more than he had told Ron—that he had been Voldemort, had had met with a vampire, and that vampire had turned him down. He thought he saw Sanguini sit up a bit straighter while he spoke, but he said nothing and so Harry went on.
He paused for another moment to rub at his scar. It had started to itch and he finally couldn't ignore it.
He continued on to his vision of Christopher's meeting with Voldemort, admitting that he had known all along that Voldemort was reaching out to the goblins and that his request that Sanguini do the same for him was in reaction to that. Sanguini patiently waved it off and continued to listen attentively.
Harry finally reached the most recent vision, and it was this one that he had the most trouble describing. He'd had time to turn the others over in his head and make sense of them, and besides, no one he cared about had been seriously injured in them. But he managed to cover everything that had happened, including that he had been the snake. And he finished with the intense feeling of malice and hatred he had felt in Dumbledore's office when the headmaster had finally looked him in the eye. His scar had burned then too, or he might not have included it.
Just as it was starting to burn now. Harry breathed deeply and resolutely tried to ignore it. It might be nothing; it might only be that Voldemort's day had been particularly bad today.
Sanguini said nothing as Harry finally reached the end of his tale and fell silent. His expression was inscrutable and his eyes were gazed and distant as they stared into the mirror without really seeing it. Harry shifted a bit and rubbed at his forehead again.
"Has Dumbledore mentioned to you what he thinks about all this?" Sanguini said quietly, though his gaze was still unfocused.
"He hasn't said anything about it this year," Harry muttered. "He won't talk to me at all. Last year he said..." He paused to recall exactly what it had been Dumbledore had said after his dream in Divination; it was getting a bit difficult to focus with the pain in his forehead. "Last year is when he said we're connected, Voldemort and me, through my scar, because of the curse that failed. But I wasn't seeing anything from his perspective last year."
He hesitated again, but it looked as though Sanguini was not going to speak up, so he added quietly, "We overheard Moody talking the other day, though. He said Dumbledore's been waiting for something like this and...they think I've been possessed...that's what everyone thought in October too..."
Sanguini did not answer right away. Harry wished he would. He was having to screw up his eyes against the pain in his head now.
But after a moment, Sanguini shook his head and gave Harry a very faint, very apologetic smile. "I do not think you are being possessed. But I will have to consider this further, Harry, I'm sorry. I have never heard of anything like this before."
Harry felt a burst of relief. A moment later, a rush of wind and voices crashed down upon him, accompanied by a burst of searing pain in his scar. He heard himself cry out in frustration and Sanguini's cry of his name as though from the other end of a tunnel.
With his last bit of awareness, he shoved the mirror away, into the crack between his bed and the wall.
He was standing in the dark, curtained room. Before him stood six of his loyal servants; not the most loyal, of course, as they were all still imprisoned within the walls of Azkaban, but these six would do for what he had in mind.
"There will be no casualties," he was saying in a high and quiet voice. "And you may not cast my mark upon the sky. If I find that any of you has done so, you will soon be begging for death. This attack is meant to incite panic only, to remind the Wizarding world that they are not so safe as they would like to believe, and I have no desire to announce my presence to the Ministry when they have been so sweetly ignoring my return."
"Yes, my lord," came the mumbled chorus from the wizards before him.
His lips curled into a smile and he sought out two of wizards in particular. "Lucius, Walden, you are clear in the tasks I have given you?"
"Yes, my lord," Lucius murmured with a bow as Macnair chimed in, "It is an honour, my lord."
He smiled again and lazily flicked his wand toward the door to remove the charms which held it closed. "Tomorrow at noon. Diagon Alley should be sufficiently busy at that time..."
Someone was shaking him...it only made the blinding pain in his head even worse...
"HARRY! HARRY!"
His eyes shot open. He was on the floor again, but this time Ron was the one leaning over him. Dark shapes were crowding into the room behind him.
"What's going on—"
"Sounds like someone's been murdered—"
Harry frantically tried to sit up, tried to get up and get moving—he had to tell someone—they had to know—
Hands reached out to help him sit up. He grabbed one of them tightly, too tightly, and the owner hissed in pain.
"Ron..." he gasped out. His stomach was churning with nausea from the pain and elation that was not his own. "Ron...it's..."
"What is it?" Ron asked, and his face swam in front of Harry, white and panicked. "Has someone else been attacked?"
Harry shook his head frantically and clutched at Ron's hand even harder when this just made him dizzy and even more nauseous. "No...it's not that...I need to talk to the Order...Sirius, I need Sirius..."
"What's going on in here?" demanded a gruff voice from the doorway. The other people in the room hastily moved aside as Mad-Eye Moody limped his way over to them.
Harry felt relief crash over him and another uncomfortable swoop of glee in his stomach. Even if Moody did think he was being possessed, it was a member of the Order he needed right now, and Moody would be the most likely to take him seriously, if only because he was too paranoid to do otherwise.
"Mad-Eye..." he breathed, trying to get to his feet. "It's Voldemort, he's attacking Diagon Alley tomorrow..."
Moody jerked horribly, whether in shock or because of the name Harry couldn't tell. He grabbed Harry's arm and roughly dragged him to his feet himself.
"Another vision, was it, Potter?" Moody growled out, pinning Harry with a suspicious look with both eyes.
Harry nodded as firmly as he could. His headache was beginning to pass, but he still felt like he might be sick any minute. "He was meeting with his Death Eaters...he was giving them instructions..."
Moody went on scrutinizing him, but his magical eye was now spinning in all directions again. Harry thought he saw it slow down as it passed over the area around his bed, but he quickly had to look away; the rapid movements were only making him feel worse.
"I reckon you'd better come downstairs, Potter," Moody said after a moment. "We'll all have a listen to what you just saw."
The words had hardly left his mouth before he was gruffly steering Harry out of the room. Harry glanced back with an apologetic look as he left; now that he was thinking more clearly, he could see that Hermione and nearly the whole Weasley family was standing in the room, watching them leave with looks of various degrees of horror on their faces.
Moody led Harry down into the dimly lit kitchen, where Sirius, Lupin, and Mrs. Weasley were already sitting at the table, waiting for them. All three of them got to their feet as soon as they walked in, looking as though they were having a race to see who could be the fastest, and Sirius took a couple panicked steps toward him
"Are you all right, Harry? We heard screaming—Mad-Eye told us to wait here..."
"The boy's just fine, Black," Moody said, clapping a hand down on Harry's shoulder. "Just had another of his strolls through You-Know-Who's head, that's all."
Lupin jerked in panic this time, but Sirius was the one to cross the room and take him by the shoulders.
"Another vision, Harry?" he said, looking rather panicked himself. "How are you feeling? This can wait until morning if you're really—"
"No, it can't," Harry said firmly.
"Potter's right," Moody grunted, gesturing for Lupin and Mrs. Weasley to sit down again. "C'mon, let's all sit down and listen to what he's got to say."
Sirius nodded and wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulders so he could lead him over to the table. He gave Harry's shoulder a comforting squeeze as he sat down next to Mrs. Weasley again and Harry sat beside him. Moody came to a stop across from them but did not sit down himself, choosing to remain standing behind the chair next to Lupin.
"All right, Potter," Moody said once everyone had settled. "Let's hear it."
Harry nodded, took in a deep breath, and began to tell them everything he had seen. He did not bother to say how he had seen and heard all this and no one asked, although Sirius's clenched Harry's arm painfully as he spoke. For all it might have felt otherwise, it took very little time at all to run through the entire vision, even while he tried to repeat Voldemort's words verbatim. In no time at all, he had reached the end and trailed off awkwardly.
The silence that followed was no less awkward. Harry chanced a glance up at the adults; they were all giving each other significant looks that he hated.
"Right then," Moody said, breaking the silence. "Molly, you know who to call. We'll need to prepare for this."
"Oh, yes, of course. Right you are, Alastor," Mrs. Weasley said, quickly get to her feet. "Harry, dear, why don't you go on back to bed now, see if you can't catch a few more hours sleep."
Harry stared at her in furious disbelief and stayed right where he was. "What? But I can help! I'm the one who knows what's going on!"
"Molly's right, Harry," Sirius said, clapping a hand on his shoulder as he, too, stood up. "Your help has been invaluable, no one's questioning that. But let us take it from here. You look like you could do with a bit more sleep."
Harry glared at him, feeling a bit betrayed, but he knew that they would allow nothing to happen while he was still down here. Either he left and he was shut out of the meeting, or he stayed and heard nothing anyway because there would be no meeting at all. He reluctantly got to his feet.
Lupin stood up at the same time and moved like he would come with them. In a second, Moody had a hand clamped on his arm.
"Hold it, Lupin, I've got something to discuss with you."
"C'mon, Harry, let's go back upstairs," Sirius said gently, and in a moment, he was steering Harry out of the room.
He waited until they were on the first floor to say anything else. "How are you feeling?"
"Better," Harry said quietly. "I've still got a headache, but the worst of it's over."
"Well, nothing a bit of sleep won't cure, I'm sure," Sirius said with a bracing smile. Harry tried to smile back. It didn't work well.
They stopped when they reached the room Harry shared with Ron. Harry did not go in immediately. He was sure no one had left the room since he had been up here half an hour ago and they had only closed the door so that would not be immediately obvious.
"Well, Harry, I've got to go back down to the meeting," Sirius said, though he had a bitter note to his tone. It was probably because he was wondering what use it would be for him to be there, when he wouldn't be able to do anything. But he smiled a moment later and took Harry's shoulders in his hands. "If anything else happens...don't worry about all the secrecy, you come and tell us right away, all right?"
Harry nodded stiffly. He would have much preferred just being down there anyway.
Sirius gave him an apologetic smile and turned away so he could head back downstairs. Harry slowly turned the doorknob and slipped inside the room.
As he'd thought, the room was still full of people. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were sitting on Ron's bed while Fred and George had taken over the other. They shifted aside has Harry walked over and he sat down next to them.
"...Well?" Ron said after a moment.
Harry took a deep breath and launched into his second explanation of the night.
When Sirius re-entered the kitchen, it was to a flurry of commotion. It the short time it had taken him to take Harry back upstairs to bed, find a spare headache draught for him on a whim, and then warn the kids that they should all be back in their own beds before Molly had a chance to catch them later, Molly had managed to get most of their number into the kitchen. She had, worryingly, been unable to contact Dumbledore, and Kingsley was on duty tonight, so he would have to be filled in once Remus took over for him in the morning. He would almost certainly be sent to Diagon Alley tomorrow, along with Tonks and Mad-Eye; three trained Aurors were the least of what they should send to stop this sudden attack on innocent civilians.
"But what could have made him decide to move now?" Molly was wondering aloud. "He can't have found another copy somewhere...?"
"I doubt he has, Molly," Remus said soothingly as Sirius sat next to him. "The Ministry should have the only copy, and we would have heard if he'd made a move to acquire it through other means."
"Maybe he's just got tired of waiting," Bill said with a shrug on Remus's other side.
"Yes, but Dumbledore was so certain he'd wait until—Oh, good, Severus, you've arrived..." And Molly rushed to greet the man who had just walked through the door, who was glowering, as he always was, at everything in sight.
"Excellent, let's get started then," Mad-Eye growled out over the din, and anyone who had still been standing hurried to find a seat. The room fell quiet as Molly finished filling Snape in on what had happened and she hurried back to her seat while Snape stalked over to one at the end of the table.
Once everyone was seated and had mostly stopped whispering to each other, Remus slowly stood and grimly looked over the table.
"Thank you, everyone, for coming on such short notice," he said, his voice quiet but firm and determined. Remus had always been that way; quiet and shy, nearly afraid of his own shadow at times, but with an inner strength that tended to surprise even those who had already known it was there. Sirius suspected it was a large part of why, ultimately, Dumbledore had made him a prefect, and why he had done so well as a teacher, and why, now, he tended to be the one to lead most Order meetings when Dumbledore wasn't present. It was easy to trust Remus and to want to differ to him.
"We've called you here tonight," Remus continued as he sat down again, "because Harry has had another vision. According to what he has seen, Voldemort will be sending Death Eaters to terrorize Diagon Alley, tomorrow at noon."
The whispering broke out immediately. Sirius heard the same question repeated over and over, along the whole table. The question they were all wondering, the question they had been wondering since Harry began his story. Why now? Why so suddenly like this?
Remus waited patiently for most of the whispers to die down. "That said, considering recent events, it might be better not to immediately jump to conclusions. Severus," he said, looking down the table, "have you been told anything about this?"
Snape was quiet for a good couple minutes, far longer than Sirius really had the patience for, as he mulled over what to say and how to say it, like always did just because he knew it would create suspense. Then finally, finally, he opened his mouth had said quietly, "I have not."
Sirius felt his stomach plummet like a stone and told himself firmly that there was no reason for that. Snape could easily be hiding something; he still wasn't one hundred percent assured of Snape's loyalty to the right people.
"However, I was aware that the Dark Lord met with a small group of his followers tonight," Snape continued, his eyes glittering toward Sirius. "That much of Potter's vision, at least, is true."
"But you weren't one of 'em," Mad-Eye growled out, sounding as suspicious of Snape as he always did. Moody, too, had never quite believed that Snape had actually changed sides, though most of them expected that out of him.
Snape regarded him calmly. "I was not. Did Potter say I was?"
Moody was staring at him with both eyes now, but after a moment, he grunted and his magical eye went back to spinning chaotically.
"I was not invited," Snape said after a moment, inclining his head toward Moody. "Nor were most of his Death Eaters. And while it is true that normally I would be, I believe I know the Dark Lord's reasoning behind his choice tonight."
He slowly got to his feet and began walking dramatically around the table. Sirius rolled his eyes. No matter how dangerous Snape liked to remind everyone his particular job was, he loved every minute of it and he loved lording it over everyone.
"Until recently," Snape said quietly, and like Remus, his voice had a way of carrying throughout the room and making everyone pay attention, "the Dark Lord had been unaware of the connection between Harry Potter and himself. Mr. Potter has been able to share his thoughts and emotions without his knowledge. However, the vision Potter had three days ago presented such an extreme intrusion into his mind that the Dark Lord has since become aware of it."
"So what, this whole thing could just be a trick?" Bill said, frowning.
Snape paused behind Remus's chair. Sirius didn't bother to crank his head around to look at him.
"I don't believe the Dark Lord would gather his followers without actually giving them a task to complete. The attack on Diagon Alley is likely a genuine plot. However, I do feel that the timing is suspicious. He may have allowed Potter to see what he saw as a test."
Again, whispers broke out immediately. Sirius leaned back in his chair, feeling uneasy in spite of himself. It was easy to think of all the implications of that little statement.
If Voldemort knew that Harry was watching him, they might never be able to trust any of Harry's visions again. Snape would be able to corroborate some of them, undoubtedly, but he hadn't been able to do so tonight exactly. All he'd been able to confirm was that there had been a meeting at all, but the actual meeting could have been about anything.
If Harry's vision had been a test, if they sent anyone to Diagon Alley, it would only be confirmation that Harry had seen it. Even if Voldemort wasn't actually planning to attack anyone, he would undoubtedly send a few of his Death Eaters to see if any of the Order showed up. On the other hand, if they didn't send anyone, to prevent Voldemort from learning the truth, and he actually had told his Death Eaters to cause chaos, they would only be allowing people who knew nothing about any of this to be hurt.
Snape had arrived back at his seat again and was clutching the back of the chair as he watched the rest of the table come to the same conclusions.
"I believe the Dark Lord did not request my presence tonight as a precaution," Snape said quietly, "specifically so that Potter would be our only source of information about this raid, so there will be no question if the Order of the Phoenix hinders his Death Eaters tomorrow."
The table broke out in whispers again, though they were far more subdued this time and died out quickly. No one wanted to ask the question that was now on everyone's mind. None of them looked to Harry they way they did Dumbledore, but it was hard not to like him and especially hard to think about shutting him out of this war even more than was already necessary.
But finally, Remus took in a deep breath and spoke up. Sirius was glad he'd decided to be the one to say it. It would sound better coming from him than most anyone else.
"Then the question is how much we value Harry's connection to Voldemort and what secrets he might be able to provide us because of it." Remus glanced down the table at Snape, who was too much of a git to just sit back down again. "Severus, if we chose not to act on this information—"
"The Dark Lord would likely try again or choose some other method of testing him," Snape said as he finally sat back down in his seat. "He might even conclude that Potter is unaware of the connection and what happened three nights ago was merely coincidence. He does not doubt that there is a connection, and no matter what we decide, he will try to take advantage of it."
"I reckon we ought to keep a lookout on Diagon tomorrow," Moody growled from down the table. "You-Know-Who'll be in the boy's head no matter what we do. No point in risking a bunch of lives on the off-chance that Potter'll get lucky again."
"But surely it will only encourage him to...to abuse the connection if he knows for sure that we know about it?" Molly said, glancing down the table toward Snape. "If it doesn't seem like we do, wouldn't he eventually leave Harry alone?"
"I don't think it would be that easy, Molly," Remus said with a small, understanding smile. But then he too glanced down the table at Snape and asked what he thought and Sirius slumped back in his chair. It might be easier for Snape to figure out that he wasn't that great if everyone stopped treating him like he was. It wasn't that Sirius thought he was wrong, much as he hated to admit it, but he also thought that if they weren't going to trust Harry's visions, they shouldn't be trusting Snape either. Voldemort could be taking advantage of Snape just as much as he might Harry.
"I think, and the Headmaster agrees, that it would be extremely dangerous to allow Potter's connection to the Dark Lord to go unchecked any longer," Snape said quietly. "It is Dumbledore's hope that we will be able to close the connection on Potter's end, that in time, he will no longer have any insight into the Dark Lord's mind at all. Therefore, it makes little difference whether we provide him proof of our knowledge of it."
"Well, there you go," Moody said, although he was scowling about twice as much as usual for actually agreeing with something Snape had said. But then he stood up and limped his way to the other end of the table, and by the time he reached the end, he was grinning a bit viciously. "Right, then. Who'll be going to Diagon tomorrow?"
Lucius appeared, at the very stroke of noon, in the narrow space between Flourish & Blott's and Madam Malkin's. He had taken care to Disillusion himself before Apparating, so that when a couple witches passing by looked over to see what the sound had been, they had little hope of noticing him. It would be a different story if Mad-Eye Moody arrived, but they would have accomplished their goal in that case and he would have no need to stick around and let the ex-Auror engage him in a duel.
He waved once, slowly, as his gaze scanned over the shops on the other side of the street. He spotted a ripple of movement outside the ice cream parlour, invisible to any who did not know to look for it, and nodded once. Macnair had also arrived and was in position. All was ready.
Lucius could not help the small smile that rose to his lips as he lifted his wand. He had missed this.
Imperio!
An elderly witch who had been passing suddenly slowed to a stop and pulled out her wand. Within seconds, under his direction, she had begun firing curses into the crowd. Not far down the street, he saw a young wizard follow her lead. A few seconds more and the screaming had begun as the alley was thrown into a panic and wizards and witches pushed past each other in an effort to escape.
The plan had been exceedingly simple. Lucius and Macnair would throw Diagon Alley into a panic without actually involving themselves in it; the Dark Lord had made it quite clear that there should be absolutely zero signs of Death Eater involvement. Make it look as though this was a random event, and the Ministry would spin it suitably. Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, and Avery were also here, but they were to stand aside completely unless it became clear that Lucius and Macnair needed backup.
Lucius sincerely doubted that would be necessary. They had their orders not to engage Dumbledore's minions when they came swooping in to the rescue. Much as Lucius ached to participate in a proper battle again, he would not dare to go against those orders. They would Apparate out if it became clear they had been spotted. There would be no battle today.
The attack and the possibility of battle were not what was important today. What was important was whether Dumbledore's followers appeared and how quickly. The more quickly the response, the more it would please the Dark Lord.
The Dark Lord had taken him aside before he had summoned the others who would go with him, and he had explained the true purpose of this raid. That he suspected his might have a connection to Harry Potter which allowed Potter to intrude on his thoughts and spy on his doings. That Potter would undoubtedly tell his Order friends if he saw that the Dark Lord was plotting an attack. That he dearly wanted the Order to arrive, and to arrive quickly, so he might be sure of it.
Lucius listened with the gravity and humble gratitude that was expected of him, but inside, his mind was spinning. He could see as easily as his lord the possibilities that would unfold in front of them if this were true. This connection to Potter could easily be a weakness, but the Dark Lord would not allow that. He would turn it into a strength. He would find a way to block Potter from his own thoughts and allow him to see only that which he wished for Potter to see, real or manufactured. He would find a way to discover Potter's secrets and perhaps spy on him like Potter had been unconsciously doing in return these past few months.
Because Lucius was quite sure it had been months. Draco had written him twice about Potter so far this year—once in October to gleefully inform him that Potter knew spells in Parseltongue, and once in November to mention that Potter was having funny turns again. His son did not, of course, realize what it meant, but now that Lucius had learned the truth from the Dark Lord, he could see exactly what might have been happening.
He had mentioned both events to the Dark Lord, of course. Interestingly, his Lord had immediately ordered him out of the room, so that he might have a moment alone to consider this information. Lucius had only been thankful he had not been punished for bringing him unpleasant news.
Movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention and he turned to see Kingsley Shacklebolt making his way through the crowd toward the witch he had cursed, firing off spells meant to calm the crowd and the chaos as he went. Down the street, he could see a witch in Auror robes doing the same thing, though he didn't recognize her right away.
But more importantly, Mad-Eye Moody was hurrying through the crowd between them as quickly as his limp allowed him, doing his own part to contain the chaos. Lucius felt a vicious smile curl his lips. Finding two Aurors currently employed by the Ministry here in Diagon Alley was hardly surprising. Ex-Auror Moody, however, had no real business being here when he was generally too paranoid to leave his house.
And they had responded in less than two minutes. They might as well have been waiting for something to happen.
Lucius aimed his wand again and another witch and a wizard began firing off spells, this time directed toward the Aurors. The screams increased, chaos prevailed, and Moody suddenly had his hands full with an Imperiused wizard who, Lucius was pleased to see, was actually quite a good duelist. He took a moment to carefully imprint a desire to seek Lucius out later deep within the young man's mind; his Lord would be very pleased to have him in his service.
Two more wizards burst into the crowd to assist Moody, and Lucius had no trouble recognizing them as members of Dumbledore's Order; Elphias Doge and Dedalus Diggle had been members fourteen years ago as well.
He took a step back from the entrance of the small gap between building in which he stood. There was no need to remain any longer. They had the information the Dark Lord had so desired.
Which was just as well, because as soon as he moved, Mad-Eye's namesake had frozen to stare horribly at him, and Moody let out a satisfied growl and fired a spell off in his direction.
Lucius blocked it with ease, watching with satisfaction as it bounced off into the crowd. Then before Moody could wave his wand again, his gave the man a tiny bow and turned on his heel, disappearing into suffocating darkness.
