Title: Black and Deep Desires
By: Dr. Kim-chan
(Me, Ron, Harry, Lucius, and Draco are holding a Karaoke Night in a bar.)
Me (bartending): I came up with this idea when we realized that there's a lot of songs out there that match the L/R and H/D theme of this fic. Right now Ron's performing "Never Be the Same Again" by Melanie C, post-Spice-Girls-break up. Speaking of songs, the title of this chapter was inspired by one: "Can You Keep A Secret?" by Japanese pop star Utada Hikaru. Anyway, sorry the chapter's up so late, but I was on vacation for Labor Day weekend.
Ron: (singing somewhat badly and windows are breaking everywhere)
Me: Um, bad idea. Well, at least Harry and Draco can sing. I emcee and pour drinks. And…where the hell's Lucius?
Plushie: (drinking brandy, vodka, and Zima at the same time) He's in the back making a call. I dunno…somethin' about a plan to get Ron to stop singing and renting a limo after the show to take him to some upscale hotel in London so they can do naughty things…but I was drunk at the time, so I can't remember. (hiccups)
Me: WAS drunk? (shakes head and inserts plugs in her ears) Anyway, welcome to Chapter 21. (yelling over the noise of Ron's voice and glass shattering) ROLLING! (clicks remote)
(Begin Chap. 21)
Standoff Between Ministry and Death Eaters UncoveredThe raid almost two weeks ago upon Diagon Alley has long since sent shockwaves throughout the wizarding community, resulting in a further upgrade of security measures. Yet we have now just learned of a newer crisis. On Tuesday morning, Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge had addressed this problem privately to the Head of the Department of Aurors, Rufus Scrimgeour. This short meeting was held in order to ensure a last-resort plan to solve the aforementioned problem, which we at the Daily Prophet were allowed to learn of last Thursday for the purpose of alerting the public of the Death Eaters' new strategy. We all know the Death Eaters have a capacity for kidnapping for their own fiendish means, but this has up until now been the case only for adult wizards and witches whom they particularly hold interest in. After the Diagon assault, accounts told to Fudge confirmed rumors of a younger hostage taken. The hostage's name is Ronald Weasley, 16 years old, a student of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and the sixth son of Ministry employee Arthur Weasley, who—interestingly enough—has recently been promoted. No confirmation of whether there is a connection, but we do know that Ronald's friend Harry Potter himself was on the scene at the time of the kidnapping. Mr. Potter, who's been called by many since late June as "the Chosen One"…(cont. on pg. 3)
Harry frowned and turned to Page Three as Hermione read the other, later dated newspaper, which bore the article "New Developments in the Weasley Kidnapping". There was no doubt; Fudge himself had leaked to the media, although he claimed, as it said in the first article, that it was to alert the public of the sudden switch in the Death Eaters' MO. But Harry suspected it was just to make him look better. Incidentally, about a page away from Hermione's column was an opinion article by none other than Rita Skeeter, asking the public how good (or bad) they thought the Minister was handling the situation.
They were sitting in the common room on their break before their first Defense Against the Dark Arts class with Umira—well, Professor Mills now. The students who had her class so far were giving ecstatic reviews, telling how they hadn't even used their books.
"So Professor Mills is a hands-on kind of teacher," Hermione commented, turning the page to read the rest of her article.
"That's the best kind of teacher you can have. We weren't learning anything from that cow Umbridge."
Harry set down the newspaper, realizing how much he was looking forward to Professor Mills' class himself. He was setting his life—and hopefully his future career as an Auror—on that class. If the teacher was as good as everyone said she was, she could be of much use, depending on if she was also able to stay past the custom accursed year.
A few feet away on another couch, Dean Thomas was enjoying his 'only break in the day' when he heard faint footsteps from the spiral staircase leading to the boys' dormitory. All three glanced up to see Ron descending. It seemed like he had gone to sleep before the rest of them, but he looked terrible…and yet something was different.
"Hey, Harry. Hi, Hermione, Dean."
He was talking to them? In a civil manner? This was certainly a turn.
"Good morning," Harry replied stiffly.
"Late morning, really," corrected Hermione in a half-joking sort of way. (She was trying to liven the mood.) "You missed breakfast and first class."
Ron groaned and took an empty chair. "Which one?"
"Charms, but it's nothing you couldn't catch up on by yourself, and Professor Flitwick understood, what with…"
She trailed off, not sure if she should return to choppy waters.
"Oh. That. S' all right. I'm feeling better now."
"You sure?" asked Harry, a bit suspicious at Ron's change in behavior. "Doesn't seem like something you can just get over, and you've been bloody irritable for two weeks."
"To be honest, I wasn't telling everything. All I said on the train was only half the problem. I know we're best mates, but it was something I had to deal with…by myself, and it was scary. Being kidnapped isn't fun, and for once I wanted to be alone and not having anybody ask me so many damn questions."
Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Hermione quickly intervened. "Well, whatever it takes for you to recover, take all the time you need. Nothing says friends can't have their own secrets. But whenever you want to tell us anything, anything at all, we'll be here."
"Thanks. Um…what time is it now?"
"We have Defense Against the Dark Arts in eight minutes," answered Harry, shooting odd glares at Hermione. "We better hurry."
But what Harry did next wouldn't have exactly been called 'hurrying'. He clutched Hermione by the arm (hard) and hung back until both Ron and Dean left the common room. Then the both of them began power-walking down the third floor, Hermione and Harry exchanging dark glances.
"What was that for?" Hermione protested.
"He finally gains enough nerve to talk to us and you tell him to shut his gob again?"
"Even if he is talking to us, I think he handled his kidnapping a little too lightly. He's still sensitive about it and just wants to forget about the whole thing. Besides, we don't need to wheedle anymore clues out of him. The Order knows what You-Know-Who's up to; they can take it from there. Or are you worried about the Malfoys?"
"It just bothers me that he couldn't confide in us," muttered Harry. "I tell him things all the time. What if something happened to him while he was there that made him so depressed? Maybe when he wrote that they were treating him nicely he didn't mean it at all—he was just trying to keep us from worrying about him? We both know Ron. He tries his best to be brave, but—"
"And that's why I said he didn't have to talk about it right away. Whatever went on between him and the Malfoys, these things take time. I'm worried too, Harry, but he needs some time alone. Let him have that. And if he never talks about it again, well, it's none of our business. Now let's go before we're late, and from what we've been hearing we don't want to be."
…The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom on the third floor looked much more different from previous years. Not even when Lockhart taught had they seen the room so bright. All the curtains, which were now made of burgundy velour, were drawn to show the light rain falling. The fresh smell of outdoors completely chased away the old smell of dust and apprehension. Even the seating arrangements were out of place. A large circle was in the middle of the room with the teacher's desk pushed to the back and out of the way. The student desks were arranged smartly in a circular maze with space enough for Professor Mills to weave in and out of comfortably. Feeling a little dazed, the sixth year Gryffindors and Slytherins took their seats precariously, taking special care not to sit near any enemies. Woe for Ron, Harry, and Hermione. No matter how they figured it, by the time they got there the class was full enough so that no matter where they sat, they ended up being only two seats away from Draco Malfoy.
The minute everyone took his or her seats, like an Accio Charm, Professor Mills entered the classroom from the back, and then it was like someone pushed 'Mute' on a remote. Of course everyone saw her before this, but now they were taken aback by how she looked at such close range. Her bright red hair and young age suggested a laid-back personality, but her black cloak and dark violet eyes said entirely otherwise. They didn't know what to make of her, and for some reason they were drawn to the amethyst brooch that fastened the cloak. She marched slowly to the circle at the center and stopped cold. A minute passed before she even said anything.
Quietly, she turned towards Seamus with a bright smile, which brought on a reverse effect and scared him even more.
"You shouldn't hold grudges, Mr. Finnegan. Friends like Mr. Thomas are very hard to come by. Try and talk it out this evening; I'm sure you'll be much happier than you realize," she counseled, her smile showing no sign of disappearing. Dean and Seamus looked shocked, then stared at each other questioningly.
"How did she know we were fighting?" Seamus whispered loudly.
"She's teaching Divination with Trelawney, isn't she? She's a Seer too," Dean replied. "Apparently not a fake, either."
"Trelawney has her moments," Mills put in out of the blue. "She just didn't take the time to develop her Inner Eye fully, so her insight is erratic. She means no harm, even if she does. But this isn't Divination. We're here for Defense Against the Dark Arts, something I'm certain you need right now. Believe it or not, you don't have to be a trained Auror to defense yourself effectively. All you need is focus and to keep a cool head. That's why I'll be using my powers on occasion. It'll be random, and I won't dig too deep inside your thoughts. However, since this is sixth year, by the end of this year you'll know how to block Legilimens—because you'll have Occlumency on your side."
Everyone gasped.
"Isn't that really advanced magic, Professor Mills?" a nervous brunette girl asked.
"Take my word; it only sounds like mystical, forbidden jargon and an equally hard skill to perfect. It takes time, but you can do it. In fact, we'll be going more in-depth to it right now. Put away your books."
Then everyone gaped at her as if she'd lost her mind. No teacher had ever told them that.
"You heard me," Mills said with a joyful strictness as she moved from out of the circle and back to her desk to retrieve something. Still flustered, the students did as she asked, only to be surprised again when they looked back up from their bags. She was coming through again with a large stone base in her hand, filled with a pearly liquid. She set it down carefully on a desk that was being shared by two Slytherins. Then Professor Mills turned her back to address the class again right as one of them slowly moved a curious finger towards the liquid surface.
"I wouldn't touch if I were you," she said, supposedly to the Gryffindors she was facing. "It's a little inconsiderate to put dirty fingers in someone else's thoughts."
"This is thoughts?" the other boy asked in disbelief.
"This, if you haven't heard before, is a Pensieve. This object holds any surplus thoughts one would like to keep stored. Some Seers find it useful when they meditate or are in the middle of soothsaying—makes it much easier to concentrate. I understand the Headmaster has one of these, doesn't he, Mr. Potter?"
Harry jumped in his seat and everyone stared at him.
"…Yeah, he does," he answered quietly.
Professor Mills nodded. "So you have some knowledge of the Pensieve. Then tell me, besides storing thoughts in here, what else can you do with it?"
"Er…when you touch the thoughts and reach deep enough, you can, um, actually go inside the thought and experience it. Like a dream."
Everyone awed and looked at Professor Mills to see if it was true.
"He's right. A person—could be more than one—can actually dive into a Pensieve and experience things as if it's in real life. However, you cannot interfere or change the thoughts. You can only watch. Speaking of dreams, most people don't know, but more than real-time, real-life thoughts and memories can go inside the Pensieve. As long as it's a product of your mind you can store it, even dreams and nightmares. Too bad everyone doesn't have these. They're usually expensive to have, and hard to find. This one was passed down from my great grandfather; I was the first in my family since him to show psychic gifts."
She paused suddenly, a contemplative frown taking over her. Seriousness finally settled, but not a teacher's seriousness—it was something real. She walked around the circle slowly, staring at all of the students, her voice just above the point of whispering.
"I know this is probably a lot to ask of you, but in order to use anything I'll ever teach you in Defense Against the Dark Arts, in order to face fears outside, you must absolutely deal with your inner fears first. The fifth, sixth, and seventh years will have a test next month; fourth years and below will do it in November. That'll give you plenty of time to prepare. But it's not because it'll be hard…for the most part. It won't even be written. It is simply pass-or-fail, not for a mark. Everyone will give the Pensieve a nightmare reflecting upon your worst fear. Take note that I didn't say what you were afraid of; you already did Boggarts with Lupin in third year. I said your worst fear in this world. A fear of a change in your life that could draw you into deepest despair—or perhaps it already is."
When she said this, she was looking straight at Draco, who looked severely anxious at that point. Harry caught this and raised an eyebrow, but then she gave the same look to him, confusing him further. If that wasn't enough, she started concentrating on Ron. What…?
"You will deposit that fear in the Pensieve—I'll show you the proper technique over the next couple of days—and together you and I will attempt to conquer it. If you do, a spell I will put on the Pensieve will drop us back out. If you don't…"
She stopped in mid-sentence, giving everyone the urge to run from the room.
"Oh, don't get spooked now. We haven't even started yet," Mills teased. "I wasn't going to say 'death'. If you don't, it only means you'll have to take the paper exam instead. And believe me, the Pensieve will be better. Then again, it won't matter. Those who fail the first time will also have to do it again at the end of the year. Would you rather get it out of the way now or worry about it along with final examinations?"
Excited though she was about the whole prospect, Hermione couldn't help but raise her hand.
"You wish to know if I'll be teaching out of the book from time to time, continuing to teach countercurses and jinxes, Miss Granger? Yes. It's the same principle in reverse. You could very well have the courage, but it won't mean a thing if you don't know any spells. One can never go without the other."
Satisfied but uneasy, Hermione lowered her hand. She, too, was noticing the particular amount of interest Professor Mills was showing about Ron, Draco, and Harry, even as she put the Pensieve away and told everyone to get their books back out. Did she see a connection of fates between them, or were they carrying deep secrets? She must've. She didn't mention a thing out loud, although she kept a fixed eye on them from time to time…
…It was a mixed feeling when Professor Mills called the end of class and everyone stood up in preparation to leave. She was without opposition the best teacher they've ever had and they couldn't wait until the next lesson. Yet quite a few were also waiting until they could leave, putting the aspect of the Pensieve test far behind them. But not everyone was allowed to leave quite yet.
"Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Malfoy. I kindly request a word with the three of you for a moment…yes, Mr. Weasley, I'm aware you have Professor Snape next. Strict as he is, he'll understand if you're late. Just tell him you had to speak with me."
Ron turned to Harry, shrugged, and walked over to the desk in the back where she was sitting. The Pensieve sat a ways from the center of the desktop, the obscure swirling of white circling the bowl, which for one reason or another was made of stark obsidian. Draco scowled and walked up from behind him, after much deliberation taking a stand beside Harry. Professor Mills didn't say anything right away. Her violet eyes were still in the process of scrutinizing every aspect of their faces, maybe their minds.
"What interesting fears you three have," Mills finally said. "Usually something not many young wizards your age think about. I understand yours perfectly, Mr. Potter. Everyone knows you've done great things, but to be called the "Chosen One"…too much pressure, don't you think? No one should be forced to go through what you're going through and what you've already went through."
Reluctantly, Harry nodded.
"Mr. Weasley, I've also read the papers, but your kidnapping wasn't at all traumatic as Rita Skeeter wrote it out to be, was it?"
Ron shook his head, scared she'd uncover all the other thoughts.
"And for future reference, if you don't want me to see it, don't think about it in the first place. Yet if I may, he speaks the truth, fantastic though it sounds. As for the other thing…you just have to see for yourself when the time comes. Depends on if a certain someone will make up his mind."
The last sentence was spoken with sharp agitation, and Professor Mills' head turned to Draco, who actually stepped back.
"All I wanted to address was that the fears of you three are formidable, even by a teacher's standards. So much so that I hesitate to take you on when the time of the Pensieve test comes."
"I don't wanna take a written exam!" Ron burst out immediately.
"As much as I hate to agree, Weasley's right. It can't be that bad, Professor Mills," Draco said with a protracted sigh of annoyance.
"Because you're not aware of your fears. Of course you don't know. But I do, and I wonder if it's something you can handle."
Harry thought about it for a while. At the start of term banquet that night, when she said the greatest defense you could have was courage…Harry always supposed he had quite a lot of courage. More than most, actually. Was it really true that he had enough to face Voldemort and the meaning of the prophecy when the time came, or was he in danger of crossing the line of overconfidence? This was a concept of Defense Against the Dark Arts completely new to him. What was his greatest fear? Lupin didn't let him face the Boggart in third year…and now that he thought about it, Draco never did either…
"I want to take the Pensieve, too, Professor," Harry consented.
"Are you three sure? I wholeheartedly support you and will continue to when we step into the Pensieve together, yet I want to make this perfectly clear. I don't like what I see."
"Like you said, we'll have to do it sooner or later," answered Draco breezily.
"And I really don't wanna take the written exam. I could fail sixth year and my parents'll be furious…great, now I sound like Hermione."
Professor Mills sighed, then smiled. There was going to be a high risk factor, but if these particular three overcame the visions only she could see in the deepest shadows of their imaginations, it'd be well worth it.
(End Chap. 21)
Me: Ooh, now the tension mounts!
Ron, Draco, and Harry: What's our biggest fear?
Me: (smacks them with a rolled-up newspaper) No spoilers allowed! Anyway, my readers, I hope that makes up for Chapter 19, although the overall importance of it stands. And in case anyone was wondering, I imported the OC Professor (Umira) Mills from one of my former HP fics, "Campfire". It was supposed to be my MF/RW masterpiece, but I ran out of steam.
Plushie: "What's the deal with Seamus and Dean?"
Me: That's a little obvious…could be not. We'll just have to wait and see about that, too. Now get to work, you lazy slobs. We got Chapter 22 to write!