Chapter 5
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"Harry!"
The front door opened and the cool evening breeze clashed with the warmth drifting from the Burrow's living room. Harry found himself in the middle of it. He felt too hot as Mrs Weasley squeezed him tight, but he didn't complain and awkwardly patted her back. The woman was saying indistinguishable words through her sobs, nothing he understood, though he nodded, giving her words of comfort of his own, things he'd heard other people say in such circumstances.
"Harry Potter!" Before the vice-like hug could cut off his air, Mr Weasley gently pulled his wife away from him and shook his hand, inviting him inside the house. Harry crossed the threshold and the clock stuttered.
He was fourteen again, here to stay at his best friend's house for the summer; they were going to play Quidditch in the garden, swim in the pond before lunch, and lie in the grass in the afternoon, talking about nothing and everything until the sun disappeared behind the low hills and the frogs started croaking. It was a stupid fantasy.
Relief and concern flitted across Mr and Mrs Weasley's expressions as he walked in. Their smiles were genuine but small and tired, and their faces were creased with new wrinkles.
"Too thin," Mrs Weasley tutted, taking Harry's head in her hands to tilt it this way and the other, "like Ron. Bet one week of proper meals will fix it- let's start with dinner, shall we?"
Harry had never seen so few people sitting at the table. The kitchen was usually crammed full of the Weasley clan and expected guests, but tonight it was only Ron, Ron's parents, Bill and Fleur, and Ginny sitting around him. Percy would drop by later, Mr Weasley informed, hoping that the addition of one person would make up for the stifling quiet that hovered in the room.
On the other hand, for the first time in more than ten days, Harry was famished. His appetite came back in full force the moment a pan of meatballs and mushroom stew was placed on the table, accompanied by baked potatoes and bread. He took a bit of everything under the watchful eye of Mrs Weasley.
"Everything good?" she said, more statement than question. The woman was too confident in her cooking to seek validation, and Bill followed her cue, initiating a one-sided conversation about his new tasks at Gringotts and the side job as consultant for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
"I'll help put up stronger protective wards," he was saying, and Fleur, seated beside him, looked at her husband with pride glimmering in her eyes, "nothing smarter than asking a Curse-Breaker to make the Aurors' spellwork foolproof."
When his plate was clean, Harry set his fork down and looked at Ginny, who'd stoically remained silent. Her seat was as far away from him as possible, her eyes never touching his side of the table. He knew why. He'd responded to her letters, explaining he couldn't visit, mentioning what he could of what he was doing at Hogwarts, but he'd never been good at expressing himself. She clearly thought he didn't care, which wasn't true. He cared far too much.
After dinner, they moved to the living room, where Mr Weasley turned on the radio to soft background music and fetched a bottle of Firewhisky. Ron sat on the couch next to Harry, nursing a glass of milk. They made small conversation that ended as it had begun, and if Ron was taken aback by how rapidly the brown liquid was gone from Harry's glass, he didn't comment.
"So, Harry, what have you been doing at Hogwarts?" Mr Weasley finally asked, settling in his armchair.
Harry put the empty glass on the low table and clasped his hands together. "We're trying to locate Hermione."
"Kingsley says the Aurors found her track marks in the Dark Forest." Yes, on Harry's suggestion. He'd sent clear directions to the only man in the Ministry who'd listen to him without making a big fuss about Harry's recklessness.
The newly appointed Minister had Apparated to Hogwarts on Tuesday. His visit had been brief, the time to let Harry know the Aurors were working on it and for Harry to ask if they'd found anything else in the forest. They hadn't.
Harry had fleetingly considered confiding in Shacklebolt then. But they'd been standing in the Entrance Hall, the man had kept checking his pocket watch, and an inner voice had reminded, Thisisn't Remus- there, the hard truth. He had no mentor, no friend who'd understand, really understand because their lives had been as miserable as his own and they had lost as much as he had. So he'd refrained from sharing with the Minister what he and Nott had seen in the forest.
Only two other people knew about that night. A note he'd received this morning from one of them was currently in his jeans pocket.
Bill shifted in his chair. "How are you locating her?"
Harry felt Ron stiffen next to him. He said evasively, "Professor Snape is helping out."
Bill was about to ask more, but Harry rose from the couch, muttering something about needing the loo, and stepped out of the room.
Theywon'tunderstand. They never did. He climbed the creaking staircase, walking past the bathroom, and reached the top of the house.
Ron's bedroom was a mess, but the sheets were neatly pulled over the bed, suggesting its owner rarely used it, if ever; posters were still plastered on the walls, and crumpled clothes, books and parchment lay in the open school trunk, as if ready to be shut and shipped off to Hogwarts for new term.
Harry sat on the bed and tugged the note from his pocket. A feeling of trepidation came over him as he unfolded the piece of paper, but it evaporated in an instant.
Harry-
I'm sorry, I don'tknow of anyplantsthat may produce a black liquidlikewhatyoudescribe.
Yes, resin can turn dark when the plant is old or sick, but it doesn'tgetdarkerthan brown.
I'lltrytoread on it. I don'thave the time toresearch as I wanttobutI'llseewhat I can do.
Get some rest,
Neville
He shouldn't have felt disappointed. Answers were hardly served with a finger snap, were they? He'd had to suffer to get them and even now he was groping around in the dark for explanations bound to escape his reach.
Somehow he knew that what he'd seen in the forest had something to do with Hermione's disappearance. It couldn't be a coincidence. Even Nott had lost his composure in front of the infernal hole at the base of that tree, the horror plain on his face.
And Luna- Luna had insisted that she see the tree for herself. Harry had made her swear not to enter the forest alone.
When she had found him at the back of the library four days ago, he'd explained the desk cluttered with botany and plant science books by recounting the events of that night. Her response to the unlikely tale had been to help him research the substances produced by trees for the next hour, to no results.
"Maybe we should look at it from another perspective," Luna had suggested. But Harry had been too tired to keep reading and set the books aside for the night.
Walking him back to Gryffindor Tower, she'd told him about Snape's request. "Severus says the drinker should have a manifest Inner Eye. I suspect my grandmother was a Seer, but no one believed her visions. Some times I see things other people can't, creatures, which is normal if you think about it, but other times I see places and I get confused- I don't remember right away what it is that I saw, but later it comes back in my dreams.
"Anyway, Severus asked me to be there when the potion's ready."
Harry was surprised Snape had asked for Luna's help, but, hell, he shouldn't have taken such a liberty. This potion was dangerous. Harry had prepared some of the ingredients himself and, while he'd done his best not to chop the valerian roots too narrow and grind the knotgrass seeds too fine, he could still have fucked up. Severus had reminded him of that fact every morning he'd spent in the lab.
"Hey." The bedroom door inched open. "Can I come in?"
Harry hastily pocketed Neville's note and smiled as Ginny tiptoed inside, careful of the groaning hardwood floor.
Today she was wearing blue jeans and a pale pink sweater, and her auburn hair was shorter than the last time he'd seen her, brushed back from her face. She stood before him, a hard look in her eyes and a line between her brows. He wanted to reach up and erase it with his thumb but he didn't move, waiting with his arms braced behind his back.
Her voice was soft. "You didn't visit."
"You know why."
He kept still, looking up at her, his emotions written across his face for her to read, handpick and do what she want. He wasn't going to apologise and she wasn't going to forgive him.
With a sigh, she found what she'd been looking for. Her expression eased and she lifted a hand to his cheek. Harry leaned into her touch, feeling her fingers on his skin, on the stubble along his jaw, down the side of his neck.
He'd waited for her to look at him all evening. He should have known she would come to him in her own time.
Her soft brown eyes entranced him. He needed her. Her strength and goodness, that's what he had survived on for a whole year on the run.
"I should have come to you," she whispered, combing her fingers through his hair, which had grown too long. "You need a haircut."
Harry didn't say anything, watching with bated breath as she straddled him, her arms sneaking behind him, her hands caressing his shoulders, his back, leaving a trail of shivers- she was making him forget- We should be talking right now.
"I missed you." A kiss to his temple. About something important- talk about-
Her tongue darted out to trace his upper lip and he made a guttural sound deep in his throat, sitting up on the bed with her in his arms, her legs pressing against his sides. Her lips sucking on his, her tongue joining in to mark his mouth, it was maddening, and he wanted to turn them over, drag her to the edge of the bed and have his fill like the starved man he was-
but this was Ron's bedroom and there was laughter resounding through the house.
"And Fred- Fred convinced him he was the bad one! We found George in the attic-"
"Damn." Ginny pressed her forehead to his, though he felt a smile graze his lips. "Maybe you can sneak into my room later..."
Harry's shoulders slumped. "I can't stay."
Ginny tensed. Her smile wilted and he wanted to take it back, tell her he wasn't going to leave, promise her she would never have to wait for him again, but he couldn't. The potion would be ready in a matter of hours and after that was done he was going to find his best friend and take her back home.
Ginny moved out of his embrace and sat beside him. She didn't beat around the bush.
"So, what are you really doing at Hogwarts?"
Harry answered truthfully. She deserved this much. "Brewing a potion to locate Hermione."
"And what happens when you locate her?"
"I'll take her back."
"What if she's somewhere you can't find her? What if she's being held-"
"I'll keep looking for her."
"And this potion-"
"Yes, Harry, tell her about this potion," a sharp voice interjected.
Ron was leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest. He gave him a forced smile that Harry wanted to punch off his mouth.
Instead, he removed his glasses to pass a hand over his face, trying to wipe the fatigue away. I'm so bloody tired.
"What about it, Ron? You want me to tell Ginny I'm going to use dark magic to find our best friend? Like that's something that we've never touched before."
Ginny got up and went to stand by the window. She shuffled her feet and looked questioningly from her ex-boyfriend to her brother.
Ron's eyes narrowed to slits. "Curious how Nott appears out of nowhere and you decide it's suddenly okay to use the dark magic he suggests. Him, Harry, a Slytherin asshole who's tormented us for years. How the hell did he even convince you?"
Harry shook his head. "He didn't have to. It's the only option we have, Ron, there's nothing else. And he wasn't the one tormenting us, that was Malfoy-"
"But- Harry," Ginny said, frowning, "how dark is this magic? What does it do?"
"Does it matter considering we're using it for something good?"
"I guess not. But it's going to ask for something in return, right? Dad says it's like a disproportionate exchange-"
"You can't tell him, Ginny," Harry interrupted her. Hurt flickered in her eyes, but he went on, "you can't tell your father what we're doing."
"Is it legal?"
Snape sneered.
"Stupid question?"
The man rounded the desk and rolled the sleeves of his black shirt to the elbows, baring the Dark Mark fading on his left arm. He had forgone his cape and tunic for more comfortable clothes today. The bandage around his neck had come off and now two white spots adorned his pale skin where the snake had bitten him.
"What I- we are going to brew is called the Tiresian Potion," Snape started lecturing, motioning for Harry and Ron to step closer to the simmering cauldron. "It has been used for centuries, starting, perhaps, by the Mycenaeans, if not the Minoans, who may have used a similar process to enter a mystical state or connect to the divine. Part of the process is similar to the Mopsus Potion..."
Snape trailed off, waiting a good ten seconds to let the corners of his mouth curl downwards, and Harry fought the urge to roll his eyes.
"Your ignorance never ceases to astound me, Potter," the man remarked, stirring the mixture boiling under his long nose, white fumes spiralling up to the ceiling, "but I shouldn't be so surprised that you can't recall a whole month of lessons spent on ancient potions. I know well by now that nothing I teach you enters that head of yours."
Harry had a cutting retort ready on his tongue. Be civil.
Not looking at him, Snape explained reluctantly, "The Mopsus Potion offers the drinker seer-like powers. The drinker can see the future, but the brewing is less complicated, making the results less certain. Like the Sybil, the drinker must interpret whatever they perceive. The Tiresian Potion, on the other hand, is difficult to brew and has different effects, obviously. I've never tried it myself, so we will find out on the way."
"What does it do? Theoretically?"
"It opens the drinker to a… connection. Or, rather, it creates a link between the body and the entity-"
"The entity? What-"
"Tiresias. I thought that was obvious."
"Wait… We're doing a summoning?"
"What would you have me do?"
Harry was standing, facing Ron.
"Well, let's see," Ron said sarcastically, waving his hand in the air, "how about not a dark ritual?"
"And do nothing-"
"The Aurors are working on it-"
"There's one Auror looking for her, Ron," Harry growled. Shouts wanted out of his throat but the bedroom door was open. "In his spare time. There are hundreds of people missing, do you think the Ministry will deploy an entire squad for one person!?"
Ron's mouth snapped shut.
Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. He wanted Ron on board with this, but he didn't need him- not if Ron was ready to sacrifice Hermione to keep his conscience.
Ron seemed to read his mind. "We never used dark magic, even when we were losing the war. We wore it around our necks and it almost killed us. How do you know this ritual won't do the same?"
"I don't." They really didn't. "But how many times has she saved our lives, Ron?"
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The dark corners of Snape's laboratory made Harry uncomfortable. The place had never been well lit, but now no light streamed through the windows and the torches cast a too feeble glow.
Harry found the classroom empty upon arriving, the tables vanished to make space on the floor, and the cauldron sitting on the desk, fuming, almost pulsing, ready to damn them, which was a sure thing. They were going to pay a price tonight.
Snape and Luna joined him soon, the former donning his trademark black robes, while Luna- Luna didn't look like herself at all. Harry's mouth dried at the sight of her, at the black cloak that covered her shoulders, leaving her arms, feet and calves naked, the laces tied in a loose knot at her neck. After more than eight years, there were still many aspects of the wizarding world that Harry was unaware of, but even he knew that Luna wasn't wearing pyjamas underneath the garment.
At half past three in the morning, they were all in the Potions Classroom.
"Good luck," Nearly Headless Nick said, his head tilting dangerously over his ruff, as Harry closed the door. The ghost had volunteered to stand guard outside, happy to be of help and keep unwanted company away during the secret meeting, but the castle was still asleep and blissfully oblivious to what was going to happen in the dungeons, to the danger that could be dragged into the uncertain aftermath of a hard-fought war.
"Why is he here?" Harry voiced at last what he'd been asking himself for minutes, or days. He was crouched to arrange black candles along a triangle sketched in the centre of the room, like Snape had instructed, but his attention was on Theodore Nott.
Nott was leaning against the desk, wearing pristine black robes and a fresh close-cropped haircut. He looked like an angel of Death, Harry couldn't help but think with a little jab of resentment.
"Because I asked him to," Snape said curtly.
'I don't trust him, you shouldn't either.' Harry wanted to say it. He had a feeling about it. He could see it in Nott's eyes, which held an unnamed intense emotion that made the hair on his neck rise like hackles. But he heard Snape's scornful comeback in his head: "What, Potter, you don't trust a former Slytherin student? Like you didn't trust me? That's surprising. And pray tell, what is about Nott this time? He's in cahoots with the deceased Dark Lord? He's planning to kill you? What, exactly, is that accurate feeling of yours telling you, Potter?"
Still. Harry had been right in the past too. No one would listen to him about Malfoy being a Death Eater in sixth year.
Yes, I'm right about Nott. He can't be trusted.
"Less than an hour before sunrise." Snape checked the potion one last time before pouring it into a vial and passing it to Luna, who was sitting on the other side of the table.
The liquid looked innocuous enough, and quite pretty: it was as transparent as water, but uneven, with thin plates like ice colliding against each other, their gentle movement catching the dim light of the room in a spectrum of colours. Snape was, of course, unaffected by the beauty of his own creation.
"No Weasley?"
"No Weasley," was Harry's only confirmation.
Snape gave a nod and strode to the centre of the room, stopping just outside of the triangle, and the other three followed suit.
"Granger's bag?" the professor asked and Harry passed the beaded bag to Luna, who took it from his hands with great care.
"Need I ask if there are second thoughts about this? What we're doing is untested, illegal and highly dangerous. This ritual calls ancient black magic, darker than anything you've ever encountered- Yes, Potter," Snape levelled a pointed look at Harry, "this isn't destroying Horcruxes, it's joining the kind of magic that created them in the first place. This ritual won't ask for payment, it will take. Whatever. It. Wants. And you won't get it back."
"You do know how to sell something," Nott commented.
"Amusing." Snape bared his teeth. "Now, to your positions."
Luna walked into the triangle and the other tree covered the vertexes. The light of the oil lamp died, plunging the room into total darkness.
"Don't break the circle," Snape reminded, "and focus your magic on Miss Lovegood. Don't speak unless asked to."
Harry gazed at the professor for a moment, wondering what the hell they were doing and if they could stop whatever it was, take another route, solicit the Aurors to do their job- but Luna was already wetting her lips, the vial lifted to them in a steady movement.
Snape swept a hand across the space in front of him. The candles flared to life.
"Miss Lovegood."
Cheers. Harry held his breath as Luna drained the potion.
He counted, one, two, three…
Luna was staring in front of her, the light glinting in her silver eyes.
Four, five-
Her arm fell by her side, her fingers letting go of the container that shattered on the floor by her feet. Panic was ready to seize Harry's body and make him run, call for help, but he commanded his limbs to stay in place. Don't break the circle.
Six-
The flames danced and bent.
Seven.
The circle was like a void and they were standing in the middle of it.
"I-I'm blind." Luna's voice was a pained whisper. Her breathing grew ragged and her eyes fluttered closed, twitching behind her eyelids. When she reopened them, the pale silver had been swallowed by the white. "I can't see-"
Harry wanted to scream, but his throat was locked.
"I can't- Please, no more-"
"I don't want to… Don't make me… Make it stop, no more…" The memories of Dumbledore consuming dark magic resurfaced, and they were here again, just as it had happened a lifetime ago, forcing Luna to ingest a potion for the greater good-
No more. Harry swallowed the lump in his throat to shout for Snape to get the antidote, but the man was already holding up his hand, shutting him up-
"We- We request your presence."
The candle flames snuffed out.
Slowly, the circle glowed red. Redder. The colour stained the darkness, and the gashes crisscrossing the floor expanded, imbued with alien magic… black magic. Its essence permeated the air and Harry was holding his breath.
"Please, join us-"
A gust of wind, a chilling sigh on the back of his neck. Harry could feel them, wicked claws grazing the tendrils of his own magic, testing it- The need to turn around and see what stood behind him was unbearable.
"We're looking for Hermione… Granger," Luna panted, grasping her chest with her free hand. The knot holding the cloak in place came loose and the fabric fell away, revealing a black silk nightgown and the body within that was being offered. "Please… show us where she is."
That archaic magic rushed into Hermione's purse with brutal force, the colour seeping into the fabric, the beads, and its very core until they were scarlet and the object looked like a bloody heart in Luna's shaking hand. Her fingers twitched and tightened around the only thing that was both keeping her grounded to this realm and deepening her contact with the entity they'd invited, whatever it was.
Harry knew the moment the entity had entered Luna's mind for she arched her back, her heaving breasts strained against the silk, her nipples erect under the cold breath wrapped around her.
He could feel It, the alien force violating her mind and her perceptions being twisted round and round by a finger that had been left to sleep for far too long. It wanted to consume the sacrificial doll they'd offered It, so It would take- Oh, It would take. Harry's stomach lurched.
"E-Everything's dark..." Luna choked out. "A black stain… The forest-"
And Harry could see,
a stretch of trees from above, surrounded by fog, but, suddenly, he was falling, like that time when he'd fallen from his broom, and the ground was rising to meet him too fast-
"There's a- well… filled with- something black-"
Harry came back to himself in time to see Nott's gaze shooting toward him and there was no hiding the alarm it held.
"Where is Hermione Granger, Miss Lovegood?" Snape spoke for the first time in minutes, his tone even. He didn't address the presence they'd called forth.
Curious, the dark magic reached out and immediately faltered around the man, almost shrinking back.
Luna's eyes were fixed ahead, glassy and wide. Her tremors slowly subsided.
"She's here." Her voice was different. Detached. "In the castle."
What? No, they had checked everywhere-
"She was taken here. The forest... bleeds."
"Follow her, Miss Lovegood," Snape said. "Find her."
"There are stairs… the Astronomy Tower… she's there, I see her, she- she's talking to a man-"
"Who is he?"
"I don't know… He's- He's hurt someone. She looks angry-"
It was easy to fall back into the magic connecting them together,
Harry stood behind Luna's eyes, the sight blurred at the edges, but clear enough for him to make out the shape of his best friend. She looked like his Hermione, but her colouring was wrong. Where there should have been red was blue. And she looked beautiful, more beautiful than he remembered her, with her cheeks rounder and her skin golden, as if she hadn't been on the run, starved and tired, for the past year-
"Why did you do it?" Hermione's voice was cold.
"He was his spy-" Harry couldn't see the man's face. "Do you care about him that much?"
"She doesn't want to stay. She can't look at him," Luna said.
Harry slipped out of the vision and found Nott staring at the girl, worry etched into his face; his eyes were tracing a rivulet of blood dribbling from her nose and over her upper lip.
"Describe the man, Miss Lovegood."
Silence. Then, after an interminable amount of time, "I don't see a face… but he's young. Tall. He… He's wearing a ring."
Harry felt a foreboding stir inside him. He knew that ring.
"How did you know?"
"...I'll tell you how I fucking know-"
"Don't. Don't swear, it's not you."
"She looks sad… about to leave. A name, she's spelling a name. I'm not sure what it is- She's turned around-"
"The name," Snape urged, "we need a name."
Luna stilled-
Hermione turned around and looked back at the man-
and for the first time since the beginning of the ritual, her voice didn't waver. The name sounded too sharp and clear for them all to miss it.
"Tom."
"Tom."
Harry fainted.
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A/N: I know, I'm not following the time schedule, but I figured I could update twice a week, maybe? I've been away too long, I don't remember what days work best! What about Thursday and Sunday? Or Wednesday and Friday?
The ritual scene. I wrote different versions, one darker and more explicit than the other, but I ended up choosing this one because with the others I kinda scared myself (said in Ross' voice). I had a few questions that only blogs in the deep web could answer... well, it was a scary experience. I found a shitload of instructions, names and detailed experiences that chilled me to the bone. I've seen my share of weird films over the years and read as many books, but less than ten minutes surfing the web made me feel truly sick. Never again.
On a lighter note, I tried to think of a good prank for Fred and George, but couldn't, so I let one of my favourite Halloween Specials of The Simpsons inspire me. I mention it in a single line but I can totally see the entire flashback play out!