Disclaimer: JK Rowling and assorted publishers own Harry Potter.
This is a work of fanfiction: no money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Chapter 20
Breakfast on Monday morning, and some of the usual hubbub had returned to meals in the Great Hall. Hermione had seemingly recovered from the weekend, and, if anything, looked in even better spirits than before apparently destroying the Minister for Magic's professional image in front of several hundred students.
"...and Professor McGonagall's in charge of my detention," she was explaining, eagerly, "and you'll never guess what it is..."
"I don't know - polishing the Gryffindor Quidditch trophy collection?" hazarded Ron.
"Nope!" Hermione was positively beaming, "I've been asked to catalogue the Restricted Section of the library!"
"Hermione," said Ron, "you need help."
"But don't you see? It means that I have unrestricted access to all the books."
"Yeah, but you still can't borrow them, can you? They still stay in the library," Harry pointed out.
"Well, actually," continued Hermione, with a butter-wouldn't-melt expression "Professor McGonagall convinced Madam Pince that I might need, on occasion, to borrow books so that I could cross reference elements to make sure the catalogue was thorough."
"You really need help," maintained Ron.
Harry, however, was seeing things a little differently. "So what you're saying, Hermione, is that you've got unlimited borrowing rights on books from the Restricted Section?" he asked, incredulously.
"Uh-huh," she beamed in confirmation.
Further discussion was interrupted by the arrival of the post. Harry was distracted by the sight of Hedwig, the snowy owl standing out partly because of her plumage, but also because she was carrying a rather large parcel.
"Hey Harry, what's Hedwig got for you?" asked Ron.
"I don't know," replied Harry, bewildered, and then, as Hedwig flew straight past him without so much as a sideways glance, "and, evidently, I'm not supposed to, either," he sighed, as his traitorous owl landed next to the Twins.
However, a tiny black owl, rather like Pig, but much more dignified in manner, had landed next to Harry's pumpkin juice, with a tiny parchment attached to its leg.
Harry looked at Ron and Hermione, who both shrugged in return. "Maybe it's from Parvati," teased Ron, as he'd noticed earlier she wasn't at breakfast.
"What, all the way from Ravenclaw?" asked Hermione, pointing out the Patil twins, deep in conversation. Suspiciously deep conversation, it seemed, as far as Harry was concerned.
Harry had now opened the parchment, and the tiny owl had disappeared, refusing even a sip of the pumpkin juice it had been offered. The message was brief:
Meet me at 1PM.
A.D.
"So who's it from?" asked Ron, "Is it from Snuffles? That'd explain the owl."
"Nope. It's, erm, private," Harry replied, somewhat embarrassed. Meet me at 1PM, but where? A.D. - had to be Albus Dumbledore. But where was he supposed to meet... Oh, he realised, as the cold stone about his throat suddenly seemed to weigh about as much as a medium sized hippogriff.
Azkaban.
"Secret admirer?" needled Ron, determined to get an answer.
"Hey," noted Harry, suddenly, looking past Ron's head, "isn't that Samantha?"
"Where?!" asked Ron, spinning round in his seat to scan the Hufflepuff table.
"I can't see her..." he was saying, oblivious to Hermione's giggles, and Harry was halfway towards the door before Ron had turned back.
The first lesson was Charms, with Ravenclaw, and to his great surprise, Harry found himself sandwiched between the two Patils for the lesson. "Morning Sweetheart," beamed Parvati, to his right, a flash of revenge sparkling in her eyes.
"Hello Harry," added Padma, huskily from his left.
"Um, morning," muttered Harry, warily, his mind going back the previous day's fencing conversation with Parvati. He should have known he'd have to pay for that.
"Well," continued Parvati, "we thought Charms would be an ideal place to fulfil your ultimate fantasy, darling," patting his thigh under the desk for emphasis.
Harry swallowed, aware that he was going scarlet.
"Oh," exclaimed Padma, in mock sympathy, "is he always this shy, sis?" rubbing his back for good measure.
Harry let his head fall on to the desk, quite convinced that the wood would probably start smouldering from the heat.
"It is kind of sweet, isn't it?" agreed Parvati.
Harry muttered something that sounded like 'wibble' into the desk, as the two sisters continued to exchange innuendo. The soundtrack of giggles from the desks behind, containing, amongst others, Lavender, Seamus and Mandy, only served to deepen his embarrassment.
Why was it that the ground never opened up and swallowed you whole when you needed it to?
On the plus side, however, Parvati and Padma were so intent on humiliating Harry they didn't notice he didn't take any turns in the exercises.
Harry fell in step with Dean as they headed towards Potions after break.
"Potions, Slytherins, Snape," lamented Dean. "A Jedi craves not these things..."
"Indeed," agreed Harry, resignedly, "but you don't have to share a desk with Pansy, do you?"
Except, he noticed, that Pansy actually seemed quite cheery this morning. She actually smiled at him. A predatory smile that sent shivers up the spine, but it was a smile, nonetheless.
"Oh 'er-mahn-eee," cried Fleur, throwing her arms around Hermione and kissing both cheeks, "you were so brave on Sat-eur-day," she added.
Hermione, scarlet with embarrassment, mumbled something about it being nothing, whilst most of the boys looked on with slack-jawed envy.
"Oh, eet wass not neurthing," contradicted Fleur, shaking her Veela hair vehemently, "you made uz all so proud..."
Snape, clearly, had had enough: "Miss Granger," he snapped, icily, "if you've quite finished reliving your reprehensible actions of the weekend, perhaps you might allow me to start my lesson?"
"Bu..." protested Hermione, as Fleur finally released her, flouncing across the dungeon to join Neville, Crabbe and Goyle.
"That is, if you've quite finished," persisted Snape, before concluding, in time honoured fashion, "10 points from Gryffindor."
This exchange really seemed to have made Pansy's day, and she was beaming as Harry slunk in to the seat next to her, "Morning Pansy," he ventured.
Pansy turned directly to Harry, eyes sparkling, clearly delighted with the world. "Hello squib," she replied.
Harry blinked, "What?" he asked, aiming for a semi-incredulous, semi-shocked tone of voice.
"You heard," hissed Pansy, still beaming, before returning her attention to Snape, who was outlining the days lesson, where they would be preparing Velocitas Syrup, a mental/physical stimulant.
Harry had indeed heard. Of course, he wasn't actually a squib, he was a Mage, so he had genuinely been able to manage a tone of disbelief. On the other hand, Pansy had clearly shown her hand now. She knew about Subsumatum. She knew about Vellum.
Harry was strongly convinced, as had been Dumbledore, even without direct evidence, that Vellum had been acting on orders from Voldemort. So, he reasoned, Pansy must have some connection to Voldemort also.
His train of thought was interrupted by Pansy's elbow, "Light the cauldron, then," she commanded.
Harry pondered this. "Well you're the one with their wand out," he countered, aware that Malfoy was also considering him with interest.
"Is there a problem, Miss Parkinson?" Snape's snapped tone caused everyone in the room to look at Harry and Pansy's desk. He had a particularly vindictive gleam in his eye.
"Not really, Professor," simpered Pansy, "Harry was just about to light the cauldron for us."
"Well get on with it then, Champion Potter," sneered Snape, "or is a little Incendium Charm beneath your undisputed prowess?"
All eyes in the room swivelled to Harry, as he reluctantly fished his wand out from his robes. So Snape knew, too, then, he thought. He lazily murmured "Incendio," whilst simultaneously willing a bright blue flame at the base of the cauldron.
He was rewarded for his efforts by Snape's expression of incredulous surprise, and Pansy's flinch. Malfoy merely gave him an appraising look with those steely eyes before returning back to his own desk and berating Hermione (although he of course called her 'Granger') for having diced the Mandrake leaves with an orthogonal pattern, rather than the isometric one as instructed.
Harry tuned out Hermione and Malfoy's bickering - it had become second nature, used as he was to ignoring Ron and Hermione's arguments, and flashed a concerned expression at Pansy, "Are you OK? You look a bit... upset."
"Don't talk to me," she snarled in return, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He was having to concentrate to maintain the flame, and he wasn't sure he could do too many other things simultaneously. Still, he'd got one over on Pansy. And Snape.
For the time being, he reminded himself.
Harry rushed lunch in the Great Hall, Parvati still teasing him remorselessly about Charms that morning, much to their audience's delight. He had to meet Dumbledore at 1, and so he kicked Ron, sitting opposite, saying "C'mon then, Ron."
Ron managed to suppress his expression of complete surprise and puzzlement quickly enough for it not to have been spotted.
"What was that for?" Ron asked.
"Um, I can't say just yet, but I need a favour from you."
"What?" asked Ron, warily, as they headed towards the library.
"I need you to stay in the library for the rest of the lunch, and avoid being seen by anyone. You were with me all lunch, OK?"
Ron's eyebrows raised in suspicion, inviting further elaboration.
"I'm meeting someone, but I can't say who," and then, at the knowing look on Ron's faced he snapped, "and no, it's not Cho!"
"Who then?" persisted Ron, not about to be fobbed off for the second time in one day.
"You and Hermione, this evening. I'll explain everything," he promised, before, having checked that there was no-one else in the particular bookstack they were occupying (Divination, of course), grabbed his pendant and commanded, "translocate."
He was vaguely aware of Ron's impressed 'Whoa!' as he felt the by now familiar pulling sensation at the pit of his stomach, and the library's surroundings dissolved.
"Good afternoon, Harry," Albus Dumbledore looked different, he thought. And yet still the same. Slightly more serious - the frown more intense, but he still suffused the air around him with a tangible warmth. Before Harry could even respond, however, the former Headmaster had gripped his arm, and commanded 'Apparate!' as the outside world once again dissolved from view.
"So yer back, then," noted a familiar voice, "and what did y'bring him with y'for? Can he be trusted?"
Harry was trying to take in the surroundings. It was a circular room, about thirty feet in diameter. There were no windows, in fact, he realised, there wasn't even a door. The light came in through the ceiling, which was an enormous dome of frosted leaded glass, veined with gold in some kind of intricate pattern.
The absolute centre of the room carried a circular pool of water, at least ten feet across itself, around which was a stone table, again circular. Seated at this were a number of people, some of whom he recognised.
"Yes, Alastor," sighed Dumbledore, "Harry can be trusted. And yes, I am completely certain that this is Harry and not an impostor under Polyjuice..."
"Well I'm sure yer c'n appreciate m' concern," snarled Moody, who clearly had emerged from his 9 months imprisonment in a piece of luggage the previous year with his celebrated paranoia now elevated to legendary levels.
They'd now reached the stone table, and Harry was guided to a seat between Dumbledore and... "Sirius! What are you doing here?"
"You know, I was beginning to think it was only me you people greeted like that," observed Lupin, who was sitting two places to the left of Dumbledore.
"Hi Harry, what happened to your arm?" Sirius returned the greeting, but Dumbledore called the meeting to order before any further pleasantries could be exchanged.
"We do not have much time, I'm afraid, since Harry must be back at school before afternoon lessons begin, so, Harry, I'll just run through the membership for you, and then we'll ask you a few questions if that's OK?"
Harry nodded, feeling hugely out of place. The pool in the middle of the room, he now saw, carried a small collection of huge fish, mottled colours, gliding idly through the water.
"Well, starting from my left, we have Remus Lupin, Mundungus Fletcher, Arabella..."
"Mrs Figg!" exclaimed Harry in surprise, "you... you, all this time..."
"Yes Harry," agreed Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling with amusement, "Arabella Figg, Kolchan Vesh, Monica Tiller, Sirius Black, yourself and I. One of our number is missing, but it's probably best if we..."
"Sorry I'm late, Albus," apologised another familiar voice, and Harry span round, open mouthed to greet the latest arrival.
"Bill? What are you doing here?"
The dashing Weasley flashed Harry a warm smile in greeting, still the same fang hanging from his ear, and his flaming red hair pulled back into a ponytail, "Came to listen to you, actually."
"Me?" asked Harry, in a slightly smaller voice than he'd intended.
"We must press on, I'm afraid. Harry has little time, and I'm sure you will have questions that need answering. Harry, if you please, could you recount the dream you told me about, near the start of term?"
And so it started. Harry explained his dream, trying to ignore Moody's derisive snorts and obvious distrust; it was typical, he thought, that the real life Moody should be so much more unpleasant than one played by a Death Eater. There were a few questions, mainly relating to how he knew that the vision was real - he didn't, but the best he could say was that it felt real, and his visions always seemed to fit events as they unfolded.
He then moved on to his duel with Vellum, weathering yet more abuse from Moody for deliberately having placed himself in jeopardy in the first place.
They then moved on to Azkaban, where Harry recounted briefly his discussion with Lucas, and demonstrated some of his feeble powers.
He didn't know why - maybe Moody's constant sniping at Harry's lack of vigilance, maybe he wasn't certain he could trust everyone in the room, maybe he was just being petty, but Harry carefully throttled in his abilities, to provide the most meagre of demonstrations for his audience.
Harry concluded his speech with his supposition that Voldemort was going to attempt to use a variant of Subsumatum to use the Soakstones to build up his power.
"Excellent, Harry," thanked Dumbledore, before adding, "well we wouldn't want to keep you now, so you'd better get back to school before someone misses you."
Harry's mouth opened and closed at this rather harsh dismissal. It seemed clear to him that no-one else was being asked to leave, and he felt rather hurt that he'd been the one to provide them with all the information, but then was being shoved out of the door (well, except there wasn't actually a door) just when the discussion was about to get interesting.
"So," persisted Dumbledore, "just use the Portkey - I assure you that its range is more than adequate. And, naturally, this meeting never happened."
"OK," relented Harry, "bye then," he murmured half-heartedly, before activating the Portkey, and materialising at the top of the Astronomy Tower. He had five minutes before History of Magic, and immediately set off for the library to rescue Ron.
Harry, Ron and Hermione were in the Charms classroom. It was late, and curfew would be approaching in half an hour. "Hermione, can you cast a silencing charm, please?"
"Sure," she agreed, hopping to her feet, and walking about the room as she set the perimeter.
"Oooh," commented Ron, "we jump to your every whim, oh great exalted one. Why didn't you do it yourself?"
Hermione had now returned to join them, the security charm in place, as Harry answered: "Because I can't."
"What do you mean, you can't," scoffed Ron, "Standard Book of Spells Volume 3. Even I know that one!"
Harry exhaled, and explained patiently, "Yes, I know the charm, I just can't cast it, anymore."
"What are you talking about?" pressed Ron, eyeing him suspiciously.
"I'm not a wizard, anymore."
"Not a wizard?! Of course you're a bloody wizard! Where do you think you've been going to school these past four and a half years? Who won the sodding Triwizard cup last year??!" something told Harry that Ron was just the teensiest bit sceptical.
"What do you mean, 'not a wizard'?" asked Hermione, seeking clarification, with just a touch of the impatience she normally reserved for re-explaining Transfiguration homework.
"Vellum. She hit me with Subsumatum," elaborated Harry, and watched the expressions of puzzlement, realisation, shock, disbelief and outrage flicker across his friends' faces.
"But it didn't work, did it!" cried Ron, triumphantly, "'cos you conjured Incendio in...Hey, do you think that's why Snape was so insistent that you conjure it and not Pansy? 'cos he thought that your powers had been drained?"
"Yes, it did work," confirmed Harry, "and yes, Snape did know. As did Pansy, and," he paused, briefly to glance at Hermione, "as did Malfoy."
"But you can still cast spells," persisted Hermione, "so it can't have worked." Sensing that her explanation hadn't swayed Harry at all, she added, "Well how else could you have lit the cauldron?"
By way of answer, Harry wordlessly summoned a ring of bright blue flames on the desktop in front of them, "like this," he said, before extinguishing the dancing fire with a close of his fist.
Hermione looked at Harry suspiciously. "What was that?" she asked, slowly.
"That," explained Harry, "was physical magic." He looked each friend in the eye to make sure he had their complete attention, "I'm a Mage."
"You're a what?" spluttered Ron, indignantly.
Hermione was, as usual, several steps ahead of him, however; "But how can that be so, 'cos Slytherin wiped them out when Hogwarts was founded, didn't he?"
"You were right, Hermione," confirmed Harry, "the Magi were human, just like us. It's a different kind of magical structure in the mind, or something. When Vellum drained my powers as a wizard, somehow I managed to divert some energy to the Mage-part of my brain, where it did just enough to awaken my Magi powers."
Seeing the uncomprehending looks facing him, Harry confessed, "Well I don't understand it fully myself, but that's basically the gist of it."
"So what's the difference between a wizard and a mage then," asked Ron, an unreadable expression on his face.
"There are lots, mainly of the form 'I can't do this anymore'; I can't use most magical objects - so I can't wear the invisibility cloak anymore, and I can't prime the Marauders' Map..."
"...and you can't fly your broom!" exclaimed Hermione, having joined the dots.
"You're quite possibly the most unbelievably clever person I've ever met," said Harry, by way of reply.
"So you didn't misjudge a Wronski Feint," exclaimed Ron, in dawning realisation, "I knew you were lying... and your arm..."
"My arm is just fine," confirmed Harry, "and I hope that Alicia doesn't take it upon herself to harass Madam Pomfrey for her medical orders, because Pomfrey doesn't know anything about it."
"So you've told Parvati, then," noted Hermione, sounding slightly put out.
"Told her what?"
"About being a Mage,"
"Actually, no. I told Parvati that I couldn't fly, and she helped come up with a plausible excuse - I said it was some psychosomatic thing following on from the duel with Vellum, and she bought it. You two are the only people in Hogwarts who know I'm a Mage, and I'm asking for your help in making sure it stays that way."
"Well why?" asked Ron, perplexed. "It sounds pretty cool if you ask me."
"Yeah," replied Harry, sarcastically, "especially the bit about Mages being automatically sentenced to life in Azkaban, blinded, if they're discovered. Really looking forward to that one..."
"They can't!" exclaimed Hermione, outraged. "You can't be sentenced just for being something... it's not right!"
"That's wizard justice for you," shrugged Harry, "so you see, nobody must know. I'm going to try and pass myself off as a wizard, using physical magic wherever I can, but some things, like Transfiguration and Charms are going to be impossible."
"Right..." said Ron, slowly. "But you can't maintain that illusion for ever, can you?"
"Just long enough to drain the Soakstone," confirmed Harry, "and then I'll probably disappear, join Sirius or something... I don't know, I haven't really thought that far ahead yet."
"So this lunchtime, was that all connected to this stuff?" asked Ron.
"Yup - I met Dumbledore - he was the person who sent the owl - and from there we went to this secret chamber thingy, and there was some kind of council that never happened."
"Where did you meet Dumbledore?" asked Hermione.
"Azkaban," responded Harry, secretly enjoying the horrified looks on their faces, before launching into a brief resume of the past week.
"Whoa!" breathed Ron, in amazement, once the discussion had concluded, "So what can we do?"
"Right now, I need you to help me to get to the Key. The Soakstone. Tonight," answered Harry.
"But the curfew," protested Hermione, before being cut off by Harry.
"Which is why," he said, "I brought along these," and he pulled out the Marauders' Map and the invisibility cloak from his bag. "Ron," he said, giving the parchment to his best friend, "I want you to have this, because I can't use it anymore."
"Harry! Are you sure?" exclaimed Ron, with huge gratitude.
"Yup. I can't use it, I've told you that. And the Hufflepuff dorms are just off the East Wing," he noted, pleased to see Ron's face turn bright pink once more. "Hermione, I want you to look after the cloak for me, because, again, I can't use it."
"OK, thanks Harry - and just say the word if you want it back, ever."
"Thanks you two, but right now I need to get to the Soakstone..."
Since he was in the company of Ron and Hermione, their combined influence on the cloak meant that it made Harry invisible too. Ron had primed the map, and they made their way through the corridors to the Soakstone's quadrangle. It was almost pitch black this deep into the castle, and the moonlight was obscured by a thick layer of cloud.
None of this mattered to Harry, however, since his sense picked up the Soakstone as an incandescent source of brilliant, shimmering white. The scale of the energy in the stone's pattern was beyond anything, or anyone, he'd sensed to date. It was phenomenal.
"OK then," explained Harry, "I've never done this before, so keep an eye on me, and pull me back if anything... weird happens."
"Harry, are you absolutely sure about this," trust Hermione to have misgivings.
"There's no other way, Hermione, at the moment I'm a really weak Mage. But also, if I can drain the Key, then Voldemort can't!"
"Well I don't like it," snapped Hermione, "you could get hurt or something. You know what Lucas said."
"And what I'm saying is that I don't have a choice. Just look out for me, OK?"
Harry got out from under the cloak, and sat, cross-legged, on the grass in front of the stone. He reached out with his sense...
...and was lost in a blaze of brilliant white, seemingly without end, without width, without depth. It was everything. This was pure energy, absolute power. Colossal. Vast.
His.
As in the cell with Lucas, Harry allowed his mind to soak the energy, tendrils of white streaming from his fingertips. When he'd soaked up Lucas' energy, it had been like a tidal wave of power, warming his soul.
This wasn't a tidal wave. This was an ocean, dropping on him from great height, and his entire body was aflame with energy. It was painful, but not excruciatingly so... to start with, but as he went deeper, the pain built up, and the burning sensation was becoming more inten...
"Harry!" he was knocked to the ground, momentarily stunned, before he looked up to see Ron, his hands pressing Harry's shoulders into the ground, terror on his face, "Are you OK?"
"Yeah, I'm fine... that was a bit intense... what made you stop me?"
"Harry, you were burning up!" exclaimed Ron.
"You were glowing, Harry," continued Hermione. "It was like this white fire was burning from your skin. Everywhere. And it was getting brighter and brighter. Didn't you feel it?"
"Well, a bit, I suppose," confessed Harry, but he was trying to downplay the fear he'd felt, because, now that he'd taste what the Key could give him, he wanted more. Lots more.
"Well OK," said Ron, uncomfortably, "look, I think we'd better go. 'cos you said it was tiring, and we've still got to get back to the dorm and everything."
It was true, he was tired. Actually, the more he thought about it, the more weary he became. "Look, just one more transfer, OK?"
"Harry, Ron's right, I really don't think you should overdo..."
But Harry didn't hear the rest of Hermione's misgivings, as he'd taken a deep breath and leapt into the Key's energy once more. He was aiming for just a fraction past the previous attempt's pain threshold, and could feel his muscles tensing, his whole body shaking as he assimilated the Key's power into his mind.
This time, however, and for the first time in any transfer, he willingly disengaged from the connection. He snapped his head back, and then turned to look at Ron, who's misgivings were evident, even in the darkness, "OK, I think that's enough for tonight... let's get back."
Ron hadn't moved, "Harry, that was... scary. You took more in that time, didn't you?"
"Yeah - how did you know?"
"You were glowing white. Your whole body," explained Hermione, once more, "and you were shaking... we were about to pull you out."
Harry shook his head, "No, I was alright that time, I think I've got it now." The fatigue was building up on him now, and every muscle burned with complaint. In his sense, the previously dull pattern that had represented himself now glowed more brightly, and was a different colour, a dull gold, with flecks of orange and clouds of burning white.
And as Harry swept his sense beyond the quadrangle, through the castle, and out towards Hogsmeade, he knew for certain that he'd be back, and would continue to drain the Key until it crumbled to dust.