The Roaring Snake – 20

The Deepening Crisis

(Author's Note: The events set in motion by Dumbledore come to a head in this chapter. Harry is really out of his depths and as clever, observant and capable as he is, he is not really a match for Dumbledore or Voldemort when it comes to manipulation – not yet, anyway. He needs to learn and this chapter emphasises how really outclassed he has been and how ignorant of the Wizarding world he is.

The Mirror of Erised finally makes an appearance in the chapter. Has no one wondered exactly how Dumbledore knew that Harry was there under an invisibility cloak? And just what was he doing there in the dead of the night, anyway? Surely, there are more propitious times to gaze at one's own reflection – or desire?

On a final note, I have a somewhat different take on curses and hexes and my view comes out in the chapter. Question for the chapter – guess how curses work in my version. Based on the clues you get in the chapter, an observant reader should be easily able to comprehend.

As usual, all criticism is welcome.)

Thanks to my beta readers Voice of the Nephilim and Abstract Error.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I am just playing in the world created by JKR.

--Beginning of the Chapter)--

Quirrell began instructing Harry on his first true curse – a curse to cause boils. Quirrell began by transfiguring a chalk box into a rat, and stunned it casually. He then pointed his wand to the stationary rat and spoke clearly, "Vomica!" A bunch of sores appeared on the rat's skin, purulent, shiny and looking painful. Harry winced mentally – not only had the sight disgusted him, but his scar had given a painful jolt when Prof. Quirrell had cast the curse. Another spell, and the sores had disappeared. He smiled at Harry and spoke, "The c-c-curse can be c-cured, either by the spell or by a b-b-boil curing potion."

He stepped back and invited the Hufflepuff boy to try. Harry pointed his wand at the rodent and incanted, "Vomica!" Nothing happened, and Quirrell seemed nowise surprised. The dark haired Hufflepuff was invited to try again, but even after five tries, Harry had been completely unsuccessful at the spell. He had made no impression on the rat at all.

Quirrell frowned, "P-Perhaps, H-Harry, this s-s-spell is too a-a-advanced as yet. Read up the t-theory behind the s-spell and we s-shall try again n-n-next week."

Harry nodded, thanked the professor and left. His scar, for some reason, was throbbing faintly and his mind was still on what Hermione had discovered.

--(Scene Break)--

By the time Harry rejoined Hermione, the muggleborn girl had found more material – all of them chronicled the extensive support extended by the Rosiers, and the Lestranges. Incriminating evidence involving the Malfoys was much more scarce, but there were enough hints of them being supportive of the goals of the Dark Lord in general, even if actual substance was lacking. The strong impression that Harry gathered was that all three families were hand in glove with the Dark Lord. Harry groaned dismally and buried his head in his hands.

Hermione spoke gently to him, "Harry, even if the Rosiers and the Lestranges have supported You-Know-Who, why does it matter?"

"You don't think they still do? Why try to get close to me?"

"Harry! Surely you don't suspect Sakarbal and Daphne of supporting You-Know-Who?"

"Why not? Their entire families have been supporting Voldemort. Who knows why they want to get close to me? Maybe they want to finish the job he started!"

"Now, Harry", admonished Hermione sternly, "that's a ridiculous accusation! Daphne and Sakarbal have been nothing but helpful all year. There's nothing to show they wish you harm."

This was true, but Harry was giving in to his paranoid urges. He replied, "Who knows? Maybe they are waiting for the right moment to betray us."

"Really, that's unfounded," returned Hermione. "You have prejudged them to be guilty. That's hardly fair!"

"Better safe than sorry," retorted Harry. "But we won't break with them directly. We'll watch them. Once we find out what their game is, we can stop it."

Hermione didn't like the direction Harry was heading in. She pleaded, "Please, Harry, just talk it out with them. After all, their parents are around outside.

"McGonagall told me that a lot of Death Eaters had managed to get away after the last war. I wouldn't be surprised if they were among those."

"You're just speculating. We should hear their explanation." returned Hermione fiercely.

"Yes, that'll be a nice chat," sneered Harry. "Daphne, Sak – tell us why your families are all either dead or in Azkaban. And tell us how your parents managed to escape that fate."

Hermione bit her lip. She could well visualise the awkwardness of the whole problem, but Harry's suspicions went against her own nature of fairplay and justice. Harry was operating on the principle that everyone was guilty until proved innocent. But that was wrong in Hermione's path. The only ones guilty were those who had been proved guilty. The others were innocent by default.

Harry continued, seeing her struggle. "Hermione, listen – I am very grateful to you for your help, but please don't mention any of this before the others. We'll wait and watch. If they are supporting Voldemort, we need to know."

Hermione nodded quietly, but her eyes were still troubled and unhappy.

--(Scene Break)--

That night, Harry could not take the dreamless sleep potion and consequently, could not sleep again. He rose and bathed his eyes in the cold water, and made his way to the Common Room. He took up his transfiguration book, and tried to read, but his mind was unutterably tired, and he found he could not concentrate. His mind wanted nothing more than to shut down, and yet it could not. Dammit! This was becoming extremely annoying!

Rising to his feet, he decided to take a stroll in the corridors. Despite the fact that it was against the school rules and that if he were caught, he would likely be in deep trouble, the eventuality did not concern Harry overly. He had his invisibility cloak, and he could always remain unseen, as long as he did not do something stupid as stumble into an armour or topple down the stairs. Gathering his cloak, he wrapped it around his shoulders, threw the hood over his head and departed from the Hufflepuff Common room. He had no idea where he wanted to go, so he ended up traipsing down corridors that he had rarely visited before. They were all old, dank with a musty smell and had rarely been visited. All rooms were dark, but one room was still lit with clear lamps. Curious, he tried the door and found it opened without any fuss. The room itself was empty except for a huge ornate mirror on a mahogany stand at one end. However, it was the state of the room which exercised Harry's attention first. For one thing, there was little dust, no cobwebs and it appeared that the floor had been swept and mopped recently. Further, the windows were all barred shut and the only entrance and egress from the room was the door via which Harry had just entered.

Harry's interest was naturally drawn to the sole occupant of the room – the large mirror. On its base was an inscription,Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. Harry frowned for a moment. It didn't sound like the Latin, or Greek he had heard in classes, nor even the Sanskrit, Avestan or Punic that he had heard from Sakarbal – was it some other magical language that he was not familiar with? It was possible, but before accepting that explanation, Harry searched mentally for any others. As a kid, Harry had always been interested in puzzles and riddles and had been excellent at the crossword – it was after all, his one solace in the Dursley 'home' where he could forget his own predicament in the crossword. The true solution struck him a moment later. 'Childish', he thought, 'just writing the words backwards, so that it could be read in a mirror.' Genuinely curious what the mirror was and what it was doing here, Harry went forward and peered into the looking glass

He gasped, as the Mirror, instead of showing his image, showed him with a group of people. Harry leapt back, pivoting on his heel as he tried to find the occupants the mirror was showing, but he was the only one in the room. And yet, the mirror was showing a bunch of people. He frowned and concentrated on the image – the group of people it was showing was his bunch of friends. Hermione, Millicent and Susan were there, sitting with him, as Justin, Anthony, Daphne and Sakarbal stood above laughing and talking amicably. The air was relaxed and free, the trust and camaraderie between them all was palpable. Harry clenched his fist in a passion – how he longed for the days when Harry trusted everyone in his group. A solitary tear ran down his cheek – he could have cried in frustration and agony, but his self-control held him back. The situation he was in was maddening. He dearly wanted to get back with his friends, and yet he dared not!

"I see you've discovered the Mirror of Erised, Harry", remarked a quiet voice from behind.

Harry jumped to see Dumbledore standing a yard away, and his first reaction was panic. He had broken a very important school rule and he was certain he was going to be punished for it. Then he saw the smiling face of Dumbledore, and relaxed a little. Harry's first reaction was to check if he had doffed off his cloak. However, Harry had not been guilty of that imprudence, so he wondered how Dumbledore had noticed him in spite of the cloak. He muttered bashfully, "I didn't see you, sir."

Dumbledore chuckled, "I don't need a cloak to become invisible, Harry. What do you make of the Mirror of Erised?"

"They show us our desire."

"They show us our greatest desire," amended Dumbledore. "I take it you've discovered the joys of the Mirror?"

Harry murmured almost distantly, almost to himself "Are they joys?"

Dumbledore nodded sombrely, "There's that, of course. Not everything that the Mirror shows is pleasant. What did you see that upset you, Harry?"

Harry returned bitterly, "I saw a group of people whom I could trust, people who trusted me."

Dumbledore looked worriedly at Harry, "Trustworthy people are rare, Harry. You hardly ever find them."

"I'm finding that out", replied Harry in the same bitter tone. He continued reminiscently, "You know, when Hagrid explained about Voldemort, I thought my enemy was only a Voldemort who'd vanished. Now..." his voice trailed away.

"Who is your enemy now?" questioned Dumbledore curiously.

"Now, I sometimes wonder who isn't," muttered Harry.

The silence stretched between them for a long moment. Dumbledore pulled himself together. He smiled, "Harry, I think you should now get back to bed. The Mirror will be gone to a new place tomorrow. Forget about what you saw and more importantly, do not try to find the Mirror. Most of the things the Mirror shows are impossible. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded, as Dumbledore continued, "Goodnight, then, Harry!"

Harry jumped to obey the order before Dumbledore decided to punish him. He threw the hood over his head and ran back to the Hufflepuff dorms, thanking his stars at escaping punishment. Had he been his usual analytical self, with his mind functioning normally and a little less overjoyed in escaping what he deemed his certain predicament, he would have wondered what Dumbledore had been doing there in the dead of the night.

--(Scene Break)--

The next three weeks passed without any further events of note. Harry had begun, more and more, to isolate himself from the others, particularly Daphne and Sakarbal. The two purebloods were initially unable to account for Harry's new found reticence, but when Harry indicated by his actions that he wanted more and more to avoid them, they had donned their aristocratic masks and hid their disappointment, hurt, worry and surprise behind them. Until Harry Potter came out with what was bothering him, there was little they could do. In the meantime, Hermione was constantly nagging Harry to stop hiding his suspicions and confront the two purebloods about his worries. She insisted that it would do more good than harm to find out once for all what they were out for. But Harry, who was all delicacy, could not bring himself to expose his suspicions to Daphne and Sakarbal. The others of Harry's group had been surprised by Harry's coldness towards the purebloods, but none of them had questioned him on the matter openly.

The situation was made worse by the fact that all of Hermione's diligence had turned up little to support Narcissa's claims that the purebloods had tried to help Harry when he was younger. Either the library, for once, had failed her or else, Narcissa had been lying. That Harry's insomnia had become worse, and that he was barely functional did not help matters. Harry was able to sleep properly only on the nights when he took the dreamless sleep potion. One night's sleep for a week over an extended period of time was woefully inadequate.

Apart from his insomnia, his scar was also acting up after each lesson of Prof. Quirrell. To make matters worse, his work on the curses was not up to the mark. Quirrell had tried to get Harry to cast some of the darker curses like the hair withering curse and the jelly legs curse, but Harry's spellcasting varied erratically. He was too exhausted, and too unfocussed. While his frustration and bitterness could often fuel the curses, they were inconsistent emotions and rarely sufficient to power the spells into his targets.

With each passing day, Harry was more and more resembling one of the ghosts than his classmates. In fact, his dishevelled and sickly appearance so startled the head girl, Nymphadora Tonks, that she asked him directly if he was ill. Harry replied in the negative, told her he was going through a rough patch, and would be back to normal soon. The head girl did not press, but she kept a close eye on him.

As Harry departed Quirrell's office on the week before Christmas break, Quirrell sighed. His efforts were not working all too well. His time in this world was very limited and with each passing day, he was growing weaker. Only very powerful restorative techniques, and potions were keeping him functional. Had he not applied them, he would long have ceased to exist upon this earth. The body was not equipped to house two spirits and was beginning to falter. Voldemort spoke softly, cruelly, "Perhaps you should focus more on the Stone than on the boy. We may not have enough time to turn the boy dark. In any case, he is a soft hearted fool and our need for him is minimal."

Quirrell nodded and his master whispered to him to begin his plans for getting past the beast of Hagrid.

--(Scene Break)--

Leaving Quirrell's lesson, Harry walked tiredly to the classroom where his friends had assembled. By this time, Harry's group had shrunk to five, consisting of Hermione, Justin, Millicent, and Susan Bones. Anthony Goldstein had followed the two purebloods and was more or less out of Harry's inner circle. Harry's haggard appearance had made the others more and more concerned and they were being more tender than usual towards Harry. The others had already asked him a dozen times if Harry was okay, but the dark haired Hufflepuff had stubbornly told them that he was fine, even if it was apparent to the dimmest person that he was far from fine. The Matron had told Harry that there was nothing to worry about and Harry was the type that would die before complaining of ill health. His previous experiences with the Dursleys had drilled into him that complaining usually resulted in a plight worse than the malady that afflicted him.

Millicent pushed a jug of pumpkin juice and a goblet towards Harry as he wearily collapsed into the chair that Justin had drawn up for him. He whispered, "Thank Merlin there's only a week left before break. I'm just exhausted."

Justin agreed, "It'll be good to see my parents. What'll you do, Harry? Go back to your aunt's place?"

Harry replied, "No, don't think so. Sprout said I could stay here over the holidays. That's what I'll do."

Millicent cut in, "Actually, Harry, my parents asked me to invite you for the holidays. We'll be happy to have you there."

Harry looked at her questioningly as she continued, "Harry, I take it you've never been to a Wizarding Yule?"

Harry shook his head, so Millicent explained, "It's a very colourful festival. Something you should see at least once." Turning to the muggleborn, she added, "I know you celebrate Christmas, but I hope you can come at least on Yule evening. It'll be nice to get together."

"Where d'you live?" asked Justin.

"Just outside High Wycombe. But that's irrelevant. You just need is to go to a floo station near your house and floo to my home. There's a map of public floo stations in the country in the library. We can just find the one easy for you."

While both Hermione and Justin had heard of the floo, neither of them knew its workings, so Susan and Millicent explained to the two muggleborn students how to use it.

The others tentatively agreed, but had to consult their parents. The general consensus was that they could manage that particular visit.

Hermione questioned, "Why don't you come as well, Susan? It'll be great to meet over Christmas."

"No," replied Susan succinctly. Both Millicent and Susan were looking distinctly uncomfortable, but Hermione pushed on heedless. "Why not?"

"We don't celebrate Yule," she returned shortly. The two muggleborns and Harry looked in puzzlement between Susan and Millicent, and the heavy set Slytherin girl answered, "She's from a Light family, Harry. They don't celebrate Yule." Addressing Susan, she continued, "But you can come to my place – there'll be no rituals"

"Why not?" asked Hermione.

"This is a celebration of the shortest day of the year. It is only Dark and Neutral families that celebrate the festival in general. But my family doesn't go in for any of the rituals, even though we have a colourful party."

Seeing the puzzlement of all except Susan, Millicent explained further, "In general, the head of the family performs a number of rituals during Yule. Most of the rituals are neutral, although some are considered Dark by the Ministry. But my father being a Squib, he can't perform any of the rituals. So we just have a party."

Harry had read about his own family's inclinations in the book given him by Narcissa. "But my family's Light as well!" he protested.

"Sure – if there were any rituals being performed, I wouldn't have invited you. It would be a mortal insult to you to ask you to participate in a ritual of the opposite type your family subscribes to. But since this is just a social gathering, there's no harm."

Harry nodded, "Well, I'll have to get Dumbledore's permission to come."

"Why don't you go and ask him?" returned Susan.

"That's a good idea. I'll do it tonight."

--(Scene Break)--

That evening, after supper, Harry cornered the old headmaster and requested a meeting. Dumbledore courteously acquiesced and Harry explained the invitation he had obtained from the Bulstrodes, and sought permission to visit them. Dumbledore sighed, "I had hoped Harry, that you would stay here at Hogwarts. I'm your guardian and as such, I had hoped you'd celebrate Yule with me here at Hogwarts. I had hoped that we could get to know a bit more about each other."

Harry stood abashed. "Millie's parents have invited Justin, Hermione and me for Yule. I'd hoped I'd be able to celebrate it with my friends. Also, I've never seen a Wizarding Yule. I'm told it's very glamourous."

"That it certainly is," agreed Dumbledore. "Very well, Harry, if your heart is set on going, I will not stand in the way. By all means, you may visit the Bulstrodes for Yule."

Harry thanked the old headmaster gratefully and left. Dumbledore, however, was looking thoughtful and worried. He called, "Liddi!"

A house elf promptly appeared. "Will you please ask Severus to meet me in my office in ten minutes?"

The elf bowed in acceptance and disappeared. Dumbledore leisurely walked away towards the staircase that led to his chambers.

--(Scene Break)--

Hermione, in the meantime, had caught up with Millicent Bulstrode. "Millie, can you invite Daphne, Sak and Tony on Yule day?"

"Think so", returned the Slytherin. "Why?"

"I'm hoping Harry can make up with them. Festive spirit can't be bad for that." Hermione spoke in one breath.

"Just what's going on between Harry and those three?" Millicent's face showed concern.

"Look, it's not my secret to tell. I'll persuade Harry to meet with them and make up. Can you arrange a meeting."

Millicent nodded her assent and the two parted on that note.

--(Scene Break)--

The week leading to Christmas was uneventful and on the day before the break, everyone was packing their stuff. Harry, Susan and Justin had followed that routine and after supper, everyone retired early to their beds. The holiday mood had already set in and even the most studious were less assiduous towards their work on that day. Harry, as usual, could not sleep and was sitting up in a chair in the Common room, trying to read, when he felt an attack of dizziness afflict him. He staggered to his feet, only to have a wave of nausea nearly overwhelm him. He had only time to stagger into the bathroom before he retched violently into a sink.

His weakened frame could stand only so much. The weeks of insomnia had taken their toll and he had pushed himself to the limit of endurance. This new malady pushed him over. He slipped on to the floor and collapsed face down on the wet floor.

Harry was very lucky that day. He might have lain there for hours and that could have been fatal to him. As luck would have it, he was discovered in a coma only a few minutes later by the head girl, Nymphadora Tonks, who being on a patrol saw Harry on the floor through the open door of the bathroom and came to investigate. Perceiving that no sense could be got out of Harry, the head girl swiftly conjured a stretcher and levitated Harry on to it. Then she swiftly carried him to the Hospital wing, where the Matron could minister to his needs.

--(Scene Break)--

"Poppy, how is he?" came the anxious voice of Albus Dumbledore.

"He is stable for the moment, but that's all," returned the Matron grimly. "Albus, he's suffering from some kind of food poisoning, and is in a pretty bad way. Also, he's extremely weak and his recuperative powers are all but gone."

"Surely, you can cure him?" It would be disastrous for his plans if Potter died now.

"I don't know the exact problem," she returned testily. "Given his condition, I'd recommend moving him immediately to St. Mungo's."

That was the last thing Dumbledore wanted. He could see the next day's headlines in the Daily Prophet – Mystery Illness nearly kills the Boy-Who-Lived. But the alternative, if the Matron were to be believed, was that the mystery illness might actually kill the Boy-Who-Lived if the headmaster didn't act quickly.

"Poppy, are you sure you can't treat him here?"

"He's so weak that I don't dare try the usual remedies. If you want, I'll try to help him here, but I warn you it's very dangerous to deny him full healing aid."

Dumbledore sighed. The Fates seemed to be conspiring against him. With an inward curse, he took a pinch of floo powder cast it into the flames. "Healer Emmeline Vance, St. Mungo."

A minute later, a stately witch wrapped in a Cashmere shawl appeared. Dumbledore spoke without prelude, "Emmeline, we've got a problem here. Harry Potter's ill and we need your help and quietly."

Emmeline understood what was being asked of her. She had to treat the Boy-Who-Lived without undue publicity, without the vultures of the press gaining knowledge that Harry was there. She had healed members of the Order of the Phoenix quietly before, so she knew what was expected of her. Consequently, she nodded curtly, "Get him over, Albus. I'll prepare Room four hundred and seven for him. Use the floo and bring him directly there. I'll join you in a few minutes."

"Thanks, Emmeline. You are very kind." replied the wily headmaster. It was good that she understood the case quickly. Now he only had to hope that the boy would not die as yet. The headmaster had too many bets riding on him at the moment. The Headmaster continued to frown for a moment, and tossed another pinch of floo into the flames. "Alastor Moody's home!" and stepped back from the fireplace.

Alastor Moody had finished his supper and was reading a bit, when the floo alarm went off. Wondering who could be calling him at this time of the night, he rose to his feet and made his way to the fireplace. His floo tracer charmshowed that the call was being put in from the Hogwarts headmaster's office. A minute later, a heavily scarred man with a pair of mismatched eyes appeared in the flames. "Hello, Albus," he growled in greeting.

Dumbledore smiled at the sight of his old friend. "Greetings, Alastor. Can you meet me in about an hour or two in the St. Mungo's?"

"What's up?" demanded the head in the fire curiously.

"I'll explain when we meet."

The scarred man growled an assent and Dumbledore waved his goodbye to his old friend.

--(End of the Chapter)--