Chapter 15

"Nagini…kill."

Bloodlust surged through his veins. He saw the target. His prey.

He struck.

The sinews split between his fangs, and he pumped them full of death.

"Focus, Potter!"

Harry flipped over once then slammed onto the mat. The training hall ceiling swirled a few times before becoming stationary again. His ass throbbed from the impact, but the worse wound was to his pride. He tried not to let either show as he hoisted himself up and resumed his defensive stance opposite his training partner.

Malfoy couldn't have looked less pleased about knocking him on his ass. His brow formed a deep trench like Harry had insulted him. When Harry got his wand back up, though, the annoyance returned to concentration. Harry focused too, on his feet, his grip, the turn of Malfoy's wrist.

"Expulso!"

"Protego!" His wand arm stung from the impact on his shield.

"Bombarda! Sagitto! Excorio!"

Malfoy sprayed curses, and Harry scrambled to defend, blocking a volley of arrows then narrowly dodging a flaying curse.

They were supposed to be conditioning, honing skills, sharpening reflexes, but they were just cursing the shit out of each other. It felt good.

He'd been so keyed up lately. Last night had helped him take a load off, but it all came back this morning, first with the hangover, then Ron, now this gnawing inside his head. He sorely needed this release.

"Diffindo!"

Malfoy mistimed his shield and caught the cutting spell on his left arm. A red line blossomed on his bicep then streaked like vines down his faded Dark Mark.

Harry dropped his guard to gloat and got cracked ribs in return. Shit. "Caligo! Expelliarmus!"

"Protego!"

"Contundo!"

A bead of sweat slipped between his lips, salty, metallic like blood. His jaws clenched. His glands spasmed, squeezing venom through his teeth to do his master's bidding.

The floor jumped up and smacked him in the face.

Malfoy hurled a string of expletives then came over to cuss him out up close. "A bloody trip jinx?!"

Harry got ready for a verbal spar but was surprised by Malfoy's hand stretched down to help him. He clasped it and gingerly pulled himself up.

Malfoy was squinting at him with eyes full of judgement. "Get your head in it, Potter. Weasley's skiving, but you're not here either."

Harry pressed the part of his chest where he'd felt the crack. It hurt, but nothing was loose or anything. "Yeah. I've just got some shit going on." He didn't know why he said that. He wasn't looking for pity. "Plus, you broke my bloody ribs. Bit hard to dodge." He smirked to show no hard feelings.

Malfoy smirked back and gestured to his own injury. "Well, you—"

"Clean that shit up, Death Muncher!"

The humor died, replaced again by the scowl. Malfoy didn't respond to whoever had yelled, just vanished his blood from the floor and spelled a bandage onto his arm. "We all have problems, Potter. Deal with it. I'm gonna piss."

Harry watched him head to the locker room. That was the most they'd interacted since joining the aurors. That last bit sucked, but the rest had been good. He never went all out like that with Ron. Too much potential for bruised egos.

He summoned his water bottle and took a swig.

Malfoy was right. Everyone was dealing with something. Rumor had it whatever deal Malfoy senior had made to keep his son out of prison had brought the family down so low they couldn't look a Weasley in the eye. Despite that and all the flack he got for having been a Death Eater, Draco never missed a day.

Maybe Harry ought to face his troubles head-on too.

…

The Winged Boar Gates swung open like welcoming arms, and Harry's face warmed with an irrepressible grin. Coming to Hogwarts always felt like coming home. Nowhere else made him feel like this, not even the Burrow. A cool breeze nudged him toward the castle, and he started toward the main doors.

Classes were dismissed by now. There were students lounging on the lawn, and he could see a practice in session on the quidditch pitch. The sight brought back fond memories.

He entered the castle without hesitation, but as he ascended a flight of stairs leading to the headmaster's floor, he started feeling nervous. Dumbledore had said he was welcome any time, but maybe he should've owled ahead. The elder wizard might be busy, being headmaster of a school and all.

He ran a finger down his scar. Or I might be trying to back out. He stepped off at the landing and headed to the spiral staircase.

It was as he faced the gargoyle's unamused stare that he realized he didn't know the password.

"Uh… This is awkward." He scratched is head. "Is Dumbledore in? He said I could—"

The gargoyle rolled its eyes and stepped aside. Harry didn't question it. He hopped onto the bottom step and rode the spiral up to the doors, which sprung open before he could knock, to reveal the twinkling grey wizard sitting at his desk, reaching into a bowl of yellow candy.

Soon, Harry was sucking on a lemon drop and glancing among the myriad trinkets ticking and tocking all over the room. One looked suspiciously like a dippy bird. He tapped its head and watched it bob up and down as he told Dumbledore what had brought him here.

Dumbledore stroked his beard. "What is the content of these visions? Are they accompanied by any urge to act on them?"

"I'd rather not say the content, but no. They don't make me want to do anything. I just see them."

"They are visions of events that have already happened?"

"Sort of," said Harry. He massaged his neck and slowly exhaled. "Just not to me."

Dumbledore regarded him a moment with a look almost of pain. "Are these Tom's memories, Harry?"

Harry sighed again. "Both of ours, I guess."

With an air of gravity, Dumbledore stood and gestured behind Harry. A leather reclining chair appeared out of nowhere. "Lie here, if you will."

Harry sat down, and the chair enveloped him like a hug. "Oh, this is nice, sir. You should go into furniture."

The old wizard chuckled. "Thank you, my boy. You tickle an old man's pride."

Harry looked up at all the headmasters' portraits looking down at him, feeling rather self-conscious. "So how do we do this?"

"Eyes closed. Deep breath and relax."

Harry leaned back and closed his eyes. In a moment, he felt the aged hands settle on his head, one over his scalp, the other palming his scar. He breathed deeply in and out, staring at the backs of his eyelids. Gradually, the maroon covering his eyes became a dark, vast space, and he knew it was not in front, but inside him.

Dumbledore's voice seemed to come from within him. "I shall first endeavor to determine whether the horcrux has awakened. You will feel me moving in your mind. Don't be alarmed. My presence is friendly."

Harry stared into the dark, feeling horribly exposed. At first, he recognized Dumbledore, his concern, his good intent, and was comforted by it. But then he saw something, or rather, sensed it. Something out there, in here with him. Far away but rushing closer. A shadow in the shadow. Darkness in the dark.

A burst of light erupted before him, the feeling familiar, like a patronus. It chased the darkness back until they both were gone.

Harry was alone in the dark again, but not truly. That thing, whatever it was, was still out there. Watching. Waiting. Hungry.

The dark lightened to the glow behind his eyelids and Harry opened them, blinking at the brightness.

Dumbledore was looking down at him with concern. "How do you feel now?"

"I think that did something." Harry palpated his scar. "Just not sure it's the right something."

"I sensed no disturbance before entering your mind. Rather, I think my presence is what stirred it."

"Did we make it worse?"

Dumbledore moved Harry's hand and pressed his fingertips into the scar, brows creased as he pondered the problem. "The horcrux is as stable as before. Have you considered that the trouble might be of personal origin?"

"What do you mean?"

"Perhaps a buried trauma resurfacing. A troubling matter you've yet to confront. It is not unlikely, considering all you have been through." Dumbledore regarded him penetratingly. "And considering your reluctance to share the visions' contents."

Harry leaned forward, rubbing his face. It wasn't his business to tell, but maybe he ought to. Maybe Dumbledore knew already. It would explain much if he did.

He rose from the chair and began to wander about the room.

"I sort of found out something…jarring…about someone. And I'm reluctant to expose his private matters."

He stopped by a window overlooking the quidditch pitch.

"What I know now makes me want to know more, but…" He turned back to Dumbledore. "How do I ask about something he didn't want me to know in the first place?"

Dumbledore gave no indication of knowing what Harry meant. "That is a dilemma."

Harry waited in vain for some sort of advice then turned back to the window. It was the Gryffindor team practice. Harry scanned the players in the air and spotted Ginny as she scored a goal above the keeper's head.

Dumbledore came up beside him squeezed his shoulder. "Go on. Perhaps some friendly faces will help to settle you."

…

Though they'd done much more just yesterday, Ginny kissed him like she hadn't in forever, holding him so close, her broom handle bopped him on the head.

"What are you doing here, Harry? Is everything alright?"

He smiled reassuringly. "Yeah, of course. I just wanted to see you."

She kissed him some more before pulling away. He noticed a shadow in her eyes that wasn't there last night. Some tension in her cheeks.

"Listen. I know what's been bothering you." She brushed his hair from his forehead. "Hermione told me and Luna this morning."

A vice gripped his stomach so hard he nearly threw up. He'd deliberately not told her about the horcrux. He couldn't bear to make her fear him or to see revulsion in her eyes. Why would Hermione do this to him?

"I just can't stop thinking about it. Imagine having this evil thing inside you." Ginny's face scrunched in disgust.

Harry struggled through rising panic for a way to explain.

"And all this time pretending she was fine. How did she not go crazy?"

Oh. His panic sputtered to a halt. Of course she meant the curse. He was an idiot.

He quickly coordinated the right response. "Yeah. It's been hard. Ron was a wreck last night. He skipped work this morning."

"Poor thing. Hermione had a breakdown too. Snape was, ugh, so disgusting. She had to get it off her chest." Her eyes flamed with righteous anger.

Harry felt a dull ache under his sternum. "I'm glad she has you to talk to now. We haven't been there for her like we should. It's just easy to pretend nothing's wrong. She's been so strong the way she's handling it."

"Don't let the outside fool you, Harry. I'm sure it's killing her inside. I wouldn't be surprised if she…"

Ginny trailed off, but Harry sensed the gravity of her omission. "You think she'll hurt herself?"

Ginny's outrage turned to sadness. "She hasn't said anything like that, but we have to be vigilant."

Harry felt like he'd been bludgered. The thought had never occurred to him.

"Oi, Captain!"

He looked up toward the voice. Above them one of the beaters was gesticulating with his bat.

"I'd better get back," said Ginny.

She gave him a parting kiss and got back on her broom.

He watched her fly back up to her teammates then made his way toward the stands, reeling from the latest worries added to his plate.

…

He found Luna and sat beside her to watch the practice. Though his eyes were on the pitch, his mind was elsewhere. Part of him was thinking over what Ginny had said, but another part was guiltily pondering something else entirely.

"What's on your mind, Harry?" Luna's wispy voice brought him from his contemplation. "For once, it isn't wrackspurts."

Harry scanned the air for Ginny. She was speeding with the quaffle on her way to another goal. "I heard Hermione told you this morning."

"She said what was on her mind, not what's on yours."

He turned to Luna. She wore a probing look behind her spectrespecs. "You think I'm hiding something?"

"You're always hiding something, Harry." She took off the strange glasses and pierced him with her naked gaze. "Not very well, but I don't mind pretending not to see."

Harry wondered if his inner state was so obvious to everyone. Well, it must be if even Malfoy noticed something wrong. "What gives it away?"

Luna hummed and leaned back on her hands. "Sometimes you look the way I feel when I think about my mum."

Harry swallowed a lump in his throat. Sometimes he forgot that Luna's mother had died and that Luna had seen it happen. Something they had in common. "What are you thinking when you think about her?"

"Oh. That I miss her. I often wonder what memories we could've made together. What life would be like if she hadn't died. Sometimes I weigh up all I have and measure what I'd give to have her back."

Harry nodded in sympathy. He too often wondered what he'd give to have his parents or if he could ever become happy enough to not wish he weren't an orphan. He knew there were worse fates than his. His parents could be alive but not know him, like Neville's. Or they could be well but awful like the Dursleys.

Or was it the worst to have perfectly decent parents for a bit and then lose them in the blink of an eye? "If you'd never known your mother, do you think you'd miss her as much?"

Luna hummed again and looked up at the sky. "I think so, but differently. Instead of a hole that's missing something I know, something I could soothe with fond memories of her, there'd be this raw emptiness I wouldn't know how to fill. I think I'd try to find out everything I could about her to patch it up."

"Sort of how I feel," said Harry. The buried sentiments were welling up. "I wish I had known my parents. I wish I knew what I was missing."

Red flashed past and Harry looked back at the pitch. Ginny jerked her broom up and arched backward into a loop, her hair whipping around like a red halo in the sunlight.

A young girl flew high off a swing and floated down to the waiting grass, her red hair billowing like a cape in the summer wind.

Luna patted Harry's arm.

He grinned at his oddly perceptive friend through the blur of stinging tears. "Any advice? I'm sort of desperate."

She reached out a slender hand and touched his chest right where it ached. "Find out," she said. "Everything."

He looked back at the quidditch pitch, chuckling in his grief. If only it were so simple.

…

When he got back to Grimmould that evening, Ron was lying on the couch where he'd left him, still shirtless in his boxers, but now with some empty dragonales on the floor by his head. He was either sleeping or passed out. He smelled like the latter. Harry leaned down and shook his shoulder until he stirred.

Bloodshot eyes squinted open then with a groan squeezed shut again.

"Have you eaten all day?"

A grimace told the negative. He summoned a bottle of protein shake and sat Ron up to drink. His poor appetite was a sign of how badly he was feeling. He cleared away the beer bottles and wondered how far this was going to go. He knew the alcohol helped numb things, but he couldn't let his friend become a drunkard.

Ron finished the shake then stared off into the glassy haze of intoxication.

Harry sat next to him, not knowing what to say but offering his presence for comfort. They'd been doing this a lot. Sitting together after a rough day, not talking about it. Each of them in his head dealing with something the other didn't know. Maybe one day they ought to share.

"When we lost her in the forest…"

Ron's sudden speech startled Harry, especially the topic. They rarely talked about the hunt. By some unspoken agreement, they avoided bringing up those horrifying days. He waited on edge as Ron arranged his words.

"Kept thinking…should've told her I love her. 'S too late now."

Harry rubbed Ron's shoulder, wishing he could somehow heal his hurt. He hated that his friends were in pain. It was like their happiness was another thing Voldemort was stealing from him. "It's gonna be alright, mate." He hoped to convince Ron as well as himself.

Ron covered his brimming eyes with an arm marred by pale talon scars, and his chapped mouth stretched into a trembling grimace. "No, it won't."