Disclaimer: Nothing is mine; everything is J K Rowling's.
Happy times are here!
Additionally, though I'm very flattered that in the handful of hours between me mentioning it so many people have offered, that I'm probably ok without a beta for the moment. A lot of you have said that there aren't too many errors and I do write quite fast and don't want to impose 12 000 words on some poor person a day. I do have a list of names of people who were willing to help me in case I change my mind though :)
Chapter 21
If there was a word that Harry had would use to describe how he had spent the last week it would have been wallowing.
Nothing had managed to break him out of his misery. He had spent almost all of his time sitting on the end of the Gryffindor table practicing his disillusionment charm and eating whatever food had appeared on the table. He was fairly sure he had even slept sitting there, still invisible.
The disillusionment charm had been the only magic he had performed. The warmth of his wand when he cast the spell was the only heat he felt in the cold hall and Harry dearly missed the brief flare of something that he had had with Katie.
Harry was certain he had not really loved her. He didn't know an awful lot about love, his only source prior to his date with Katie had been the overly romantic rubbish in Aunt Petunia's favourite books, but Harry knew that he had not known her well enough to truly love her. It had been pleasant to be with Katie, she had liked Harry, and as long as that had been true he had known he would never completely return to being nobody. It had been comforting and it had made her important to him in a way few others had been, but that was gone now, and he was left missing what he hadn't previously realised existed.
The worst part was that he could not understand why she had done it. Katie had asked him on the date, she had initiated every aspect of their short lived relationship and seemed just as content in his company as he had been in hers. Her reaction simply didn't make sense.
Harry could, if he really tried, understand the reactions of the other member of his house. They were tired of standing in his shadow and, no matter how much he disliked his own fame, nothing had ever happened let them into the light. Having spent most of the first eleven years of his life unseen he could empathise, though he did seriously disagree with how they had reacted. Even his family's hatred of magic was comprehensible; everyone fears the unknown. Katie's decision was so inexplicable Harry could not wrap his head around it. She must have known what Roger Davies actually wanted and that she would regret it afterwards, but Katie had done it regardless. It left him at a loss as for how to act around her, or he would have had he spoken to Katie since.
Harry hadn't actually spoken to any living person since Katie had run from him into Gryffindor Tower with tears streaming down her face. He supposed he should have spoken to her, apologised or tried to fix things, but he just couldn't seem to bring himself to try. It was like the chair that lay in pieces on the floor of the Shrieking Shack, mending it meant undoing the moment, and though Harry longed for nothing more than to undo what had happened he knew that undoing it simply allowed for it to happen again. He and Katie might fix things, the warmth might return, the company, the feeling that he mattered, that he meant something, was somebody, might be reborn, only to be torn away a second time. Harry could not find it in himself to risk that hollow, empty feeling again. His courage had found its limit.
Some Gryffindor I am.
It all seemed rather pointless now. He was a horcrux, getting stronger did not matter when he had to die, becoming somebody to someone did not matter when it would not last. Dumbledore would find the other horcruxes Tom Riddle had made, destroy them, and then it would be his turn.
His body had gradually begun to grow visible again, so Harry recast the charm. The magic swirled from his wand with a soft ripple of warmth up his arm and he noted uncaringly that he had finally achieved the state of complete invisibility that most wizards and witches never could. There was bitter irony in his mastery over a charm that rendered him invisible, unnoticeable and nobody when being nothing was what he had always been.
Wonderful, he thought. Now I can sneak about even better than Fleur Delacour does.
There was a small surge of pride from having beaten the other champion after she had been so dismissive of him, but it was swiftly swallowed by the same swell of apathy that had consumed everything else. Fleur Delacour was a talented witch and likely already older than he would ever be. She would have a career, a family, children, all the things Harry had half-dreamed of having himself and there was nothing he was willing to do that could change it.
Fleur Delacour might have to read his name off the Triwizard Trophy, but it would be more an epitaph than a statement of triumph. His pride was little more than a bitter taste in his mouth.
Harry had been more tempted by Salazar's solution than he had let on. There were plenty of wizards and witches that were more deserving of death than him. He had not lied, it was not his place to sentence or judge, but there those who had already been sentenced and judged by society. They lived on stolen time, and deserved the death that might save him. His refusal had been based on his desperate desire to avoid emulating Tom Riddle any more than he already had and his revulsion at the Killing Curse itself.
He very much doubted he could be convinced by anyone to use the curse that had robbed him of his family and left him as nothing. If he had to die he'd rather it was on his own terms, amongst equals, or at least with those who respected him.
Only those who are strong get respect.
Harry had read that somewhere. In one of Vernon's guides to management and leadership, in some novel of Petunia's, or one of the hundred spell books he had found at Hogwarts. It didn't really matter; it was true. If he couldn't live to be somebody, to find equals, he would at least die respected.
No more wallowing, no more avoiding what is coming.
The disillusionment charm cut out abruptly, his intent to be seen and respected nullifying the enchantment. It was only a matter of minutes before he was noticed. He stoically ignored the stares of the other students and the whispers, even when he caught Katie's name being bandied about.
'Mr Potter,' the stern voice of Professor Mcgonagall called after several long minutes had passed. 'If you would like to accompany me to the headmaster's office.'
Harry rose from his seat, stretching stiffly. He wondered what Dumbledore wanted. The headmaster had not spoken a word to him since his remonstration in the antechamber over a month ago.
'If you like, Mr Potter, we can go via the tower so you can change into some fresh clothes.' There was a stiff suggestion in the tone of his head of house.
'It's ok,' Harry smiled, glancing down at his crumpled, creased robes. With a subtle motion of his wand within his sleeve he transfigured them. Crisp, clean black school robes took the place of his worn clothing.
'You have become much more accomplished than I realised,' Mcgonagall commented. There was a glint of approval in her eye as she inspected Harry's transfiguration. 'To the headmaster's office then.'
No further words were spoken between them until they reached the gargoyle.
'Sweet crystals,' Mcgonagall ordered in a tone that implied a certain level of resignation at the headmaster's choice of passwords.
Harry followed his head of house slowly up the staircase, wondering with every step why he had been summoned. He hadn't seen or heard anything from Dumbledore since his headmaster had conveyed his disappointment in Harry after his selection for the Triwizard Tournament and, after his recent realisations, he didn't want to see him.
'Harry,' the headmaster gestured to the seat in front of his desk. 'Humbug?' He proffered a bowl of the offensively bright, striped sweets in Harry's direction. He shook his head politely, still bemused by the eccentricities of the world's most powerful wizard.
'Professor Mcgonagall has been quite concerned about you, Harry,' the headmaster announced sadly, withdrawing the bowl. 'She overheard some of the rumours and after investigating brought her suspicions to me.'
The aged professor ran a hand through his silver beard and shifted in his chair. 'It seems that nobody has seen you in some time, Harry. A few of your fellow students were quite concerned.'
'Who?' Harry was genuinely curious.
'Miss Weasley, Miss Bell and Mr Longbottom.' Dumbledore fixed him with a piercing look, his electric blue eyes as bright as gimlets. 'I am glad you have learned more about the cloak Harry, it is a powerful heirloom, but you should try to resist the temptation of using it. Artefacts such as your cloak carry a risk with them, becoming addicted to their use is dangerous.'
'I do not understand,' Harry responded, puzzled. 'Heirloom or not, it is still just an invisibility cloak with a few extra enchantments.'
Dumbledore pushed his half-moon spectacles up the bridge of his nose. 'What do you know about age lines, Harry?' he asked curiously.
'They prevent anyone below the set age from crossing them,' Harry shrugged.
'Do you know how?'
'No.'
For a moment the headmaster seemed incredibly old. 'I have made a mistake, it seems. There have been too many of late.'
'What do you mean?' Harry hoped he was about to tell him of horcruxes, but somehow he doubted it.
'Your cloak is a very useful thing Harry. It is not an invisibility cloak but a rare artefact designed to completely conceal its owner, including his magic. An age line can only be cheated by such an object. They are very simple, if obscure, wards that distinguish the age of a wizard or witch's magic and respond accordingly, as such they are almost impossible to cheat, especially in conjunction with the Goblet of Fire, an object that is very hard to deceive indeed. I'm afraid that when your name came out I simply assumed that you had figured out the abilities of your family heirloom and had used it. I felt it was the most likely possibility and am ashamed to admit I never really considered the others.'
'I did not use it,' Harry defended, then, remembering what the headmaster had once said to him before the Mirror of Erised continued with a small smile. 'I do not need a cloak to become invisible, headmaster.'
'That is a very admirable ability, Harry,' Dumbledore smiled, there was obvious pride in his expression. 'We are two of very few wizards or witches who attain such prowess with the disillusionment charm. I am glad I do not have to ask if you entered the tournament.'
'That is all very well, Albus, but not what I came to you about.' Professor Mcgonagall's tone had gained an extra note of stiffness.
'I know, Minerva,' the headmaster nodded sagely, 'but it was important too.'
'I am concerned about the rumours that you have not been seen inside Gryffindor tower for a month, that when I asked for your whereabouts my Gryffindors, my lions, did not care about one of their own enough to find out. What is happening in my house?' Professor Mcgonagall had her lips pursed in the same look of appalled outrage she normally reserved for Neville's attempts at transfiguration.
'They do not understand,' Harry answered simply. He did not care to explain the rift that had formed, it was not going to go away just because the headmaster or his head of house knew about it.
'Is there anything that we can do?' the transfiguration professor asked more softly.
'There is nothing,' Harry smiled wryly, remembering what he was, 'that can or should be done.'
'Very well,' Dumbledore sighed. 'I will do my best to discover how you have ended up in the Triwizard Tournament. Professor Moody has his suspicions, he has been telling me for weeks that the faces in his foe glass are getting closer and clearer.'
Harry shifted on his chair rather sceptical of the paranoid professor and his paraphernalia of instruments.
'Is there anything you would like to discuss Harry? You did well in the first task, much better than anyone expected, especially with a new wand.'
There were lots of things Harry wanted to discuss and he had to bite his tongue to stop him from asking about horcruxes just to see the look of shock on Dumbledore's face. Self preservation, no matter how temporary, was more important that fleeting satisfaction.
'I will try my hardest to win,' Harry informed him seriously.
'Mr Potter the Triwizard Tournament is meant to be a stern test for exceptional wizards several years older than you are.' Professor Mcgonagall seemed more worried about him than dismissive of his chances, but Harry still felt a small flicker of fury.
'Then when I win it will be quite the embarrassment for the other three,' Harry replied as calmly as he could. Dumbledore gave him a small smile and selected a pink-striped humbug from the bowl on his desk. Slipping the sweet into his mouth he sucked it thoughtfully for a moment.
'I do have a question for you, Harry,' one wizened hand extended across the desk to catch his own. The missing thumbnail was glaringly obvious atop the mahogany surface. 'When did you learn to apparate?'
'This year,' Harry answered earnestly. 'I would have been wandless for the first task had I not.' He eyed his headmaster warily, knowing all too well what he did was technically illegal.
'I am not going to report you for illegal apparation,' Dumbledore reassured him. 'I was merely concerned you might splice yourself more seriously next time you tried to visit Diagon Alley. Mr Ollivander was very impressed by you and very proud of your new wand, he is an expert in the lore of wands and I trust his judgement on the subject implicitly. He told me your wand, despite it's changed and even slightly worrying nature, was not something to be concerned about and that you were a prodigious and talented pupil I had every right to feel proud of.'
'I won't be repeating my feat,' Harry told him. 'It was only out of necessity that I ever attempted it.' He withdrew his hand from Dumbledore's loose grip and tucked it into his pocket. 'As for my wand, it is no concern of anyone's but mine.' He flashed Dumbledore his brightest smile to convince him, but the glimmer of teeth did not have the effect Harry had hoped for.
Instead of smiling back, or acting reassured by it, the headmaster shivered and paled considerably.
'Albus?' Professor Mcgonagall asked, concerned.
'It is nothing, Minerva,' the headmaster smiled, nodding rather foolishly. 'I was momentarily reminded of another mistake of mine, one that I still hope to be able to correct before it is too late.'
Is the mistake me and my harboured horcrux, Harry wondered, or Riddle. It could be either of them, but Harry suspected it was the latter. He had borrowed Tom Riddle's charming smile for his own use without ever thinking that others might recognise it.
'No need to look so nervous Harry,' Dumbledore smiled. He had finally finished his humbug. 'There is nothing you need to worry about except the Triwizard Tournament for the moment. You have your OWLs next year too and I expect you to perform quite spectacularly on them.'
So I do not need to die for another year and a half at least, Harry realised. Provided Dumbledore was not lying, and he did not appear to be, the benign twinkle had returned to his eye, Harry had only Voldemort to fear for a little while.
Only Voldemort.
If he had been alone he would have laughed at the thought. Any other wizard would have been terrified at the prospect of Tom Riddle constantly coming after them. Harry was afraid, but only of dying in ignominy. If he was to be a sacrifice to stop Voldemort's terror returning he wanted to be remembered and respected for it. It seemed only fair he got some small compensation in return for losing everything.
'You can return to your studies, or to trying to discover the clue to the second task,' Dumbledore told him benevolently. It seemed that the kindly headmaster had returned, his trust and approval restored.
It's a shame his trust in me has returned just as my trust in him has been broken.
Harry had no intention of taking Albus Dumbledore at his word ever again. For all his good intentions the old wizard knew too much, and worse, he kept that knowledge from those who deserved to know it in his attempt to arrange events in whatever manner he thought best. The headmaster was clearly a believer in the greater good.
The gargoyle slid shut behind him and Harry was left with a slight sense of relief that Dumbledore was no longer watching him but looking for whomever had put him in the tournament and a list of three names. Ginny, Neville and Katie. They were the only members of the school that had been concerned about him and his whereabouts. Ginny's reasons were clear and he could not face Katie, not yet. Neville, on the other hand, intrigued him. The shy, clumsy boy had not spoken to him since he had effectively ended their friendship in the dormitory, but evidently retained some loyalty to one he had once considered a friend.
The corridors grew progressively emptier as he made his way up towards the Room of Requirement. He felt the need to test himself, to see how much stronger he was than he had been at the start of the year. Harry might only have a year and a half to live after all.
Halfway along the seventh floor corridor a hand grabbed him by the shoulder and slammed him into the wall. Harry bounced off it hard and fell, winded, on to the floor. His glasses slid from his face on impact with the wall and skittered across the floor out of reach.
'So,' a familiar voice drawled, 'you actually got something right, Weasley.'
'Shut up,' Ron's voice snapped. 'Seventh floor I said, and here he is, skulking.'
One of Crabbe or Goyle dragged him up from the hard floor and pushed him against the wall.
'I told you that you'd pay,' Ron smirked. 'Nobody hurts my little sister, not even you.' There was genuine ire in Ron's voice. It was a bit of a surprise to Harry who had assumed his threats in the Great Hall were empty. At least it seemed Ron was loyal to his family, if not to some of his friends.
'So you join forces with Malfoy,' Harry sneered at his once friend. 'That's a new low you've sunk to, even for you.' He readied himself for a fight, there was no way he was not going to struggle.
'He's still a git,' Ron snarled, 'but we needed some extra muscle to make sure you didn't slip away and disappear again. Besides, Dean is here too.'
'Is he,' Harry peered at the faces of those around him, without his glasses it was hard to see who was actually here. 'I assume he's still upset because your sister would rather spend her Christmas with me than him.'
'At least he'll be going with someone, you've only got a few days left,' Malfoy drawled. 'Everyone knows Katie Bell ditched you for Roger Davies. He's a much better prospect than you to be sure, but I never guessed that girl was actually smart enough to pull off something like that.' Harry's jaw twitched at the mention of Katie, but he ruthlessly suppressed the surge of emotion he felt. Now was not the time to show weakness, not in front of them.
'So what now?' Harry asked, straightening his right sleeve surreptitiously and fixing his bright smile on his face. 'Are we going to have a pleasant conversation?'
Someone shoved his glasses roughly back on to his face and things swam back into focus. Harry resisted the urge to smile at their stupidity, they had wasted a large part of their advantage in their desire to intimidate him.
'We're going to hex you so badly you'll be in the hospital wing for a week,' Dean growled, reaching for his wand as Crabbe and Goyle stepped back out of the way of the coming jinxes. It was he who had returned Harry's spectacles.
At least I won't have to worry about the Yule Ball, then.
The muggle-born was surprisingly quick, but Harry was faster. His wand was out of his sleeve and raised before Dean could draw his own.
There was no time for Harry to consider the consequences, he was outnumbered and cornered; it was hit hard, hit first and worry later.
The lightly powered blasting curse struck Dean on the shoulder and hurled him against the wall with a loud crack. Harry winced, but turned to the others without pausing.
'Serpensortia,' Malfoy cried. Clearly he had not learned from second year that summoning snakes against a parseltongue was ill-advised.
The summoned snake flew past Harry to land several feet away; he ignored it for the time being.
Thick, black ropes spun from air twisted around Crabbe and Goyle as they advanced. Dodging Ron's disarming charm, he swept his wand sideways and threw Malfoy's two henchmen into the blond Slytherin, cutting off his attempt to perform the paralysis jinx. His hawthorn wand was knocked from his hand as the three of them squirmed over one another in attempt to stand.
Harry knew they would have little success. His conjured ropes were strong and tightly bound around them.
That just leaves Ron.
The red-head was frozen, his wand outstretched towards Harry, as he looked around the corridor.
'Perhaps you should have brought a few more friends,' Harry suggested, stepping further away from the rapidly advancing serpent Malfoy had summoned.
Ron snapped out of his reverie.
'You used a blasting curse on Dean,' he spat, raising his wand again.
'It wasn't powerful,' Harry told him coldly, 'and you all deserved worse for trying to ambush me. You wanted to step out of my shadow and be seen as yourselves instead of my friends, I gave you that chance when I left you alone.'
He disarmed Ron before the youngest Weasley could attempt anything else and tossed his wand away down the corridor.
'You should have returned me the same courtesy,' he snapped icily and flicked his wand. Ron disappeared under black ropes, bound from head to toe. Harry frowned, he had not meant to put so much magic into the charm, but his temper and new wand often incited his magic to flow more strongly than he anticipated.
Malfoy had finally managed to squirm out from underneath his two henchmen, but it was another four metres to his wand. He wouldn't make it, and the blond pure-blood knew it.
'You tried this before,' Harry reminded him, gesturing at the snake that was still advancing towards him. 'Why did you think it would work now, when it failed last time. I'm much stronger.'
Malfoy just sneered. 'You won't hurt me, my father would destroy you.'
Harry gave him a blinding, charming smile. 'Shall we find out?' he offered. The snake was poisonous, a cobra, but not a species with lethal venom and Harry was in a very cruel mood. Crabbe and Goyle were almost out of the ropes and would take him to the hospital wing quickly enough.
They really should have never mentioned Katie.
'Bite him,' he hissed to the conjured cobra in angry parseltongue. Malfoy went white as a sheet at the sound.
'Did you forget?' Harry laughed as the snake lunged past him at Malfoy's chest.
There was a strangled exclamation and a gasp of pain as he walked on towards the Room of Requirement, but he didn't bother looking back.
Ron, Dean and Malfoy should have learned their lesson. If they left him alone, he would leave them alone. Otherwise he would dip into his more nasty collection of curses. Harry did not condone violence, but if they continued to try and visit it upon him, then perhaps the use of the bone splintering curse on a finger or two might remind them that what they were doing was wrong on more than one level.
A swift check of the Marauders' Map showed Ron and Dean on their way to the hospital wing and a few corridors back from them Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle followed. That was good. Harry only wanted them to leave him alone, he didn't particularly want them hurt.
He scanned the map for Katie and found her in the library with the two other Gryffindor chasers, Lee Jordan, and the Weasley twins. It was too early for him to want to speak with her. Harry needed to figure out his feelings first.
The map also showed Peter Pettigrew. It was the second time he had seen the traitor's name out by the quidditch pitch and Harry was sorely tempted to go down there, find him, and clear his godfather's name.
Not yet, he reminded himself. I'm not ready.
Harry was much stronger than he had been, but it was still a little while before he thought himself capable of winning a duel against an experienced, skilled wizard. Pettigrew, for all his cowardice, had been a Death Eater and shouldn't be underestimated. Harry would get to him when he was ready and when that moment came he would not fail. Peter Pettigrew would be captured, Sirius' name would be cleared, and the one person most responsible for his parents' deaths after Voldemort himself would be given to the dementors.
If anyone deserved a fate worse than death Harry thought Pettigrew did. A coward who had sold out his best friends out of fear to an inhuman wizard incapable of remorse or mercy. The dementors would have plenty of memories to feed off and Wormtail would have much misery to spend the rest of his life reliving.
AN: Please read and review, and thanks to everyone who has.
P.S. I noticed in a few reviews that some of you have been anticipating parts of this chapter for a while, hopefully it came soon enough to feel real. In addition it explains in part his lack of attempt to go after Pettigrew, something I hadn't previously included.
