Note: Back in Hogwarts where we belong. Not much else to say but enjoy, because we are coming to what is known in common parlance as 'crunch time'. Yes folks, after however long it is, we are coming to the beginning of a very long and very drawn out end…
Chapter Fifty-Three
Uncovered
It was no cliché, thought Harry; bad things really did come in threes. The downward spiral that had begun with Voldemort's brief excursion into his mind after the destruction of the diadem had merely worsened with the lockdown of the school and it had now reached its pinnacle. Harry knew that he was dreaming, or rather, he knew that he was in a half-dreamlike state, the state in which the connection between his thoughts and Voldemort's was at its strongest and most potent. He could feel the soft mattress of his four-poster beneath him; he could sense that the space around his physical form was in Gryffindor tower, but the scene that his closed eyes were seeing was completely different. He was once more in the drawing room of the Manor, but this time there was no sign of its owners. The only other person in the room was Bellatrix Lestrange, standing by the fireplace wearing an expression that if Harry did not know her temperament better, he would say was worry.
"You and Daniel did well, Bellatrix," said the foreign tongue in Harry's mouth. "I believe you sent a clear message to any others of our ranks considering altering their priorities."
Bellatrix seemed to relax slightly as Voldemort continued to speak.
"Nothing is more important than our goal. It is a shame that we lost Daniel, his skills would have proved useful, but then again, his bulldog determination to wipe out his entire family tree might have proved to be a dangerous distraction in the grander scheme of things, just as it proved to be his own undoing. Much as I admire his efforts to purify the bloodline, as such actions are always worthy, I believe that the point has been made. No-one diverges from the path. Not now. Not when the end and our victory is still in sight."
Bellatrix smiled.
"Of course not, my Lord. I did warn him that…" She broke off suddenly, a perplexed expression on her face, and then the traces of worry began to creep back into her visage as she looked up at her master. Harry felt a wave of cruel amusement at her nervousness creep through his veins, a feeling that was not his own.
"There is one thing, however, that intrigues me, Bellatrix," he continued. "Who else was there?"
"There was no-one there," said Bellatrix quickly, too quickly. "It was just me and Daniel, and…"
But the rest of Bellatrix's pattering excuses were lost as the scene in front of Harry's eyes, playing out simultaneously whilst he slept, changed suddenly. He was somewhere else entirely, in a dimly lit bedroom watching Bellatrix fight a young blonde woman whom Harry had never seen before, but whose face was known to the wizard whose mind he shared. He was now in Bellatrix's memories, carried along as a legilimency passenger. Three minds touching each other at once, all fighting to keep out the intruding presence and recognise the threat. Harry felt his head begin to pound; he had never experienced this sensation before and he was not fully aware of what was happening, only of the sensation that there was now so much information being fed directly to his brain from two different sources that he felt as if his head couldn't hold it all and was about to explode at any moment. He tried his hardest to break the connection of his own accord, but he already knew that it was useless, and the more he tried to fight, the more he made his presence in Voldemort's mind known, and the consequences thereof might have been even worse.
Suddenly, at the same moment as Bellatrix's killing curse connected with her opponent in her memories, everything went black. Harry thought that perhaps he had somehow managed to pull himself out of the two minds, to sever the connection somehow without any action on his part, but the crippling pain in the back of his head still remained.
All of a sudden he found himself back in the drawing room, and the tension immediately lessened, reduced to a dull throbbing.
"I am intrigued as to how come you do not remember anything that happened between this moment and your waking up in a veritable mortuary," Voldemort said calmly.
"I… I assumed that Rowle was the cause."
It was obvious, however, that Bellatrix did not fully believe her own words, and that Voldemort was never going to accept the veracity of them.
"Bellatrix, the extent of Rowle's injuries at the hands of your bloodthirsty colleague make me incredulous that he managed to drag himself up the stairs, let alone perform powerful combative magic and memory charms." There was a pause, and Harry felt Voldemort's disgust as he spoke his next words. "The foolish lengths that people will go to for love."
For the first time in all the occasions that Harry had been in the presence of Bellatrix, she looked completely terrified.
"Nevertheless, the point of the exercise was aptly expressed and whatever may have occurred, the ends excuse the means."
Bellatrix's relief was almost palpable and a smile of self-satisfaction spread over her features.
"Moreover," Voldemort continued, "looking into your memories proved most useful to me for other reasons. Bellatrix, there is a rat to be caught."
Harry woke up with a gasp, the connection suddenly severed as if someone had thrown a bucket of cold water over him. It was obvious that Voldemort had become aware of the once more open connection and had thrown Harry out of his mind, the effects so strong that they were almost physical. He opened his eyes to find Ron's blurred shape looking down at him.
"You alright mate?" he asked. Harry nodded, shook his head and nodded again before reaching for his glasses in order to see Ron's expression of disbelief in sharper relief.
"You were in his head again, weren't you?"
It was almost a rhetorical question and Harry knew that lying would have brought him absolutely nothing whatsoever, so he merely nodded again.
"I thought so." Ron paused. "You didn't say anything this time though; no laughter. I wasn't quite sure why I'd woken up until I saw you. Rigid and shaking. I tried to wake you up but then I thought that might do more harm than good." Ron sat down heavily on the end of the Harry's bed. "Who was he torturing this time?"
Harry shook his head.
"No-one. I'd probably have started laughing hysterically if he was. I think he came close for a moment though. He was talking to Bellatrix, looking into her mind. Then something seemed to distract him and I woke up. He must have realised that I was eavesdropping, so to speak."
"What did he say?"
"Something about rats, I can't remember right now." Harry sat up in bed, very awake and alert after his mental journey.
"Come on," said Ron, "let's go to the common room; we can talk without waking everyone up."
Harry nodded his agreement; it would probably help his muddled mind to order the past few minutes' experiences if he was in a neutral place away from the dormitory where the scene had unfolded, so to speak, despite his consciousness having been miles away at the time. They left the room silently, the others giving no indication of having been disturbed by the strange nocturnal events.
Hermione was waiting for them; Harry had half-expected her to be there.
"I couldn't sleep," she said. "I thought that something might have happened. Another dream?"
Harry nodded.
"Anything useful?" probed Hermione.
"I don't know." Harry sighed. "The connection's random, based on emotions. It's not like I only tune in when Voldemort's saying something particularly interesting. He and Bellatrix were discussing a singularly successful assassination."
"Who was it?" asked Hermione.
Harry explained what he had seen.
"That's just… wrong," said Hermione after Harry had finished. She shook her head in disbelief.
"It makes you wonder though," said Ron. "Why do they join up, these people? They work for a maniac who regularly kills and tortures his own followers simply to make a point. Surely the promised material gain can't be enough to cancel that out, and they can't all be stark raving bonkers like Bellatrix. Mind you…"
"It's fear," said Harry. "You know what they say – if you can't beat them, join them." He thought back to the woman that he had seen so briefly in Bellatrix's memories, of the sound of a baby crying as her mother fought for her life, and he wondered what had happened to the orphaned child. "The best way of protecting your family from a maniac is to join the maniac, although it doesn't always work like that."
"Surely, though, the mass murdering of someone's family is going to have the opposite effect to subservience, though," said Ron. "When you've got nothing to lose anymore, then you're less likely to do as you're told because the worst that can happen has already happened."
"It's completely illogical," Harry agreed. "But then, logic probably isn't the highest priority on a mad megalomaniac intent on nation-if-not-world domination's list."
"On the contrary," said Hermione weakly, "it's extremely logical. That wasn't about Rowle, it was about the rest of them, a warning. Think about it. I know that the mind of a Death Eater isn't the nicest place to be but think about it. There's already been dissent in the ranks, you've only got to look at Rodolphus Lestrange at Christmas, and he was one of the most loyal. If anyone else is thinking about absconding, well, you've now got the perfect deterrent. Oh, we won't do anything to you, we'll just butcher your family."
"It worked with Malfoy," Ron observed drily.
Harry shuddered.
"Can we please change the subject?" he asked.
"No," said Hermione shortly. "Neither you nor Voldemort can really control these moments in which your minds blend together. We've got to use these opportunities; they might give us an advantage."
"Hermione, he practically threw me out of his mind. He knew I was there. He knew what I'd seen, so how on Earth is that an advantage?"
"I don't know," said Hermione, her voice becoming increasingly exasperated. "All I'm saying is that we can't simply cast this aside."
"Something about rats," said Ron, repeating Harry's words from earlier after he had just woken. "Can you remember what he said exactly?"
"There is a rat to be caught," quoted Harry from his dream.
"It couldn't be Wormtail, he's dead, isn't he?"
"Yes, long dead." Harry shuddered as he thought back to the August night when he had seen Wormtail die, a victim of his own life debt.
"I doubt that it's a physical rat," said Hermione.
"I thought he meant me, inside his head," said Harry. "Spying on his thoughts."
"A spy…" Hermione tailed off and looked at Harry.
Harry felt his blood run cold.
"He was inside my head," he said. "He was inside my head and Bellatrix's at the same time, looking at memories, but he didn't sever the connection straight away when he knew I was there." Harry didn't want to say the next few words, but he knew that they had to be spoken aloud. "He knows Snape's true allegiance."
There was a moment of horribly cold silence in which the trio felt the horrible truth of the words sink in deep. Voldemort knew Snape's true allegiance. Voldemort was going to catch the rat in his ranks. That meant, in all probability, that Voldemort would be coming to the castle to find him.
"We've got to tell Professor McGonagall," Harry said, jumping out of his seat.
"Harry, it's four o'clock in the morning," said Ron.
"Ronald, this is a matter of life and death!" exclaimed Hermione. "If Voldemort's on an angry rampage then I hardly think that he's going to wait till the castle's had breakfast!"
Ron jumped up as well.
"You're right."
Together they ran for the portrait hole, not caring how much noise they made in their quest to see the headmistress, and oblivious to the fact that they were all still wearing their pyjamas. All three had only one goal in mind, and that was to find Professor McGonagall and warn her, but what could be done against the shadowy threat that was now hanging over them, maybe ready to strike at any moment?
They thundered through the corridors, the way to the head's office seeming even longer than usual; they were almost there when they had to skid to a halt in order to avoid running headlong into another presence in the corridors.
Snape raised an eyebrow at them, demanding a full explanation without the need for words.
Harry looked from Ron to Hermione and back again, wondering how to begin. 'Hello, Voldemort's found out that you're a traitor and he's probably going to kill you any minute…'
"I presume," said Snape coolly when none of the trio spoke, "that you have a very good reason for throwing yourselves around the castle at this time of a morning. I also presume, from the direction in which you were running, that your intended destination was the headmistress's office."
Harry nodded; it was far easier to stay silent and not have to explain.
It was Hermione that saved them.
"Harry and Voldemort's minds connected again," she explained. "We thought it best to inform Professor McGonagall immediately."
Snape was silent for a long time, but to Harry's great astonishment the time was not spent probing his mind for the information that he wished to impart to the headmistress. The deputy-head was staring into the middle-distance, in the direction of Professor McGonagall's office.
"Lead the way then, Potter," he said eventually. Still surprised at the ease of acquiescence, Harry restarted their journey at a slightly more sedate pace but with just enough speed to highlight the urgency of the situation. He heard Ron, Hermione and Snape fall into step behind him and they reached the stone griffon only a few moments later.
"Albus," he said, but the statue didn't move. The headmistress must have changed her password, and Harry was stumped. He turned to the others, trying not to let his rising panic show, but before he had chance to state the obvious, Snape stepped forward.
"Wulfric," he sighed, and the griffon stepped aside to allow them to pass. Snape stood back, ushering the students up the steps in front of him. Perhaps he did not want to be the one to wake Professor McGonagall at this ridiculous hour of the morning. Harry knocked before entering the office, musing on the fact that none of his previous visits during the headmistress's tenure had commenced with any degree of politeness in the way that they had entered her domain.
The door opened and they found themselves face to face with Professor McGonagall in her tartan dressing gown and hairnet, looking more than a little sleepy and more than a little incredulous. She let out a long exhalation on seeing who had come calling and began in what was becoming a time-honoured fashion:
"Why is it always you three?"
"I'm sorry, Professor, but this is urgent!"
Professor McGonagall looked at him, visibly wondering what could possibly be so urgent at three in the morning.
"I've had another dream," Harry continued, and he glanced back at Snape, willing him to go away. It was not that he did not want the defence teacher to hear, after all, he needed to know what Harry had seen as it pertained directly to his safety, but he knew that it would be far easier to tell the headmistress alone first, instead of feeling the scorn in Snape's stare on the back of his neck, decrying his poor occlumency. Luckily, Professor McGonagall picked up on the momentary look and nodded, inviting Harry into her office.
"Come in, Mr Potter, and tell me what you saw. Professor Snape, Miss Granger, Mr Weasley, if you could remain outside for a moment?"
They nodded and Harry stepped into the room, under the gaze of the portraits. Suddenly so many judgmental eyes on him made him half-wish to be back outside in the darkened landing with Snape and the others.
"What happened?" prompted Professor McGonagall after she closed the door.
Harry took a deep breath.
"Voldemort knows that Snape is on our side."
Professor McGonagall said nothing as she came back round to face Harry, her fingers reaching out for the wood of her desk and gripping tightly, as if she was afraid that her knees would give way and send her onto the floor should she not have a hold on something. She had gone chalk white. Harry gulped; the last thing he needed was for the headmistress to faint on him.
"Are… are you sure?" she asked, her voice tight and choked.
Harry nodded.
"I'm more certain than not," he added. "Voldemort had complete access to my mind, my memories. He would have seen, and then he determined that he needed to catch a rat. I am sure."
The professor stared at her desk for a long time.
"Please excuse me a moment," she said eventually, and she left the office by the discreet door off to one side that led to the rest of the head's quarters. Harry was left alone under the old and shrewd stares of the portraits.
"Well," began Phineas Nigellus.
"Oh, shut up," snapped Harry. "The last thing I need is your condescension. I'm feeling dreadful enough as it is without you helping."
The portrait sniffed and Harry thought that he might be left in peace, before the ex-headmaster spoke once more.
"Now do you see why Dumbledore was so reluctant to trust you with this information?" he asked. Although there was the ever-present sneer in his words, the question was not rhetorical and the portrait's grim face was in earnest. "You are unable to lock your head against intrusion and anyone, including and not limited to him can come in and poke around, discovering all the secrets stored within."
Harry felt sick, because as callous and cutting as the words were, they were also horribly true. Who knew what else Voldemort might have found out through their mental connection? Almost unconsciously, Harry looked to the portrait that hung above the desk for advice. Dumbledore looked grave and nodded.
"It is true, Harry, that I did once again return to the philosophy that I so unwisely used during your fifth year, but this time with a slightly more concrete basis. I know that you will never be an extremely accomplished occlumens, and with information of this nature, I did not want to risk it coming to Voldemort's attention, through no immediate fault of your own. But accusations and blame laying will get us nowhere. The point remains that we have a situation on our hands that must be resolved, and we must resolve it quickly."
It was at this point that Professor McGonagall re-entered the room, still pale and shaking.
"Harry, I must speak with Professor Snape immediately; thank you for telling me what you have done, but I fear that there is nothing more that you can do for now."
Harry nodded and made to leave the room. There was no need for any formalities now, not when the course that they were embarking upon was so very urgent and so very dangerous.
He met Hermione and Ron outside and when he did not say anything, Snape took this as his cue to enter the office and shut the door behind him, pointedly.
"Alright mate?" asked Ron unsurely. "What did she say?"
"Nothing much," said Harry. "The portraits did most of the talking."
"Come on," said Hermione. "There's nothing else we can do and there's nothing to be gained from sitting on cold stone steps all night."
The trio stood and were about to move away when Harry stopped and bent to listen at the door, thinking perhaps something could be gained from the conversation currently taking place.
"… I had surmised as much," Snape was saying.
"Severus, what are we going to do, if you are called away at this stage…"
"If I am called then I will answer, Minerva, it is as simple as that. If I do not heed my summons then we are likely to find the Dark Lord's army, or at least part thereof, arriving at the castle gates to apprehend me. That is a risk to Hogwarts' safety that I am not willing to take."
"Severus, you will be killed."
The bleak finality of this statement made Harry's stomach turn and he did not want to hear any more of the discussion to which he had not been invited. He followed Ron and Hermione down the steps and towards Gryffindor tower once more, wondering what the future might hold now.
