Silent Tears
Part VI:
New ProphecyDumbledore didn't seem at all surprised to see them all awake, or that Hermione was pulling herself back onto Harry's bed. On the contrary, he regarded them with a nod, and walked swiftly past them to Madam Pomfrey's office. Her door shut with a snap after him. From behind it they could hear the sounds of Dumbledore rousing Madam Pomfrey, and the whispered conversation that they were holding within minutes. Draco and Harry exchanged confused glances, Ron's and Hermione's faces bewildered. The nurse asked what sounded like a question, from the tone of her voice, and Dumbledore's deeper voice, replying grimly. Then there was silence, in which Harry's and Draco's glances turned tense. Suddenly the door opened, and Madam Pomfrey came into the room, the Headmaster following her. She glanced apprehensively around at them before raising her wand.
"I'm very sorry, all of you," she said grimly. "Sonoris!"
A golden, powdery substance flew from her wand and drifted slowly over the companions.
"I know what this is," Ron said suddenly, as the glittering powder settled over them.
"Pixie dust?" Draco suggested.
"No, it's Sleeping Powder…" But he never finished his sentence. The last thought in everyone's mind before they fell asleep was, Oh, no, not again.
********
The first thing Harry saw when he woke up was glittering sunlight. He sat up so quickly that it made his head spin. It suddenly occurred to him that his scar had been burning. Running a finger over it, he thought, Maybe there was truth in what Draco said last night…His eyes trailed over to the three limp figures: Malfoy, on one bed, Ron on another, and Hermoine on the next. Harry's thoughts reeled. Why? What just happened? Did he hear Malfoy and me? Luckily, he didn't hear Draco respond to his ponderings.
He suddenly understood Draco's desperate need for air the previous night, for this was overcoming him as well. His breath was catching in his throat—he needed air—
Harry scrambled out of bed and dashed to the window. Eyes blurred with sweat, he felt for his wand on the table.
"Alohomora!" he gasped, but the window didn't budge. In a crazed desperation for cold air, he rammed his fist at the glass, just as Draco had done the night before, achieving nothing but excruciating pain in his right hand, spreading rapidly all the way up his arm when—
The feeling vanished as soon as it came. Utterly bewildered, Harry ran a hand over his forehead, and it came back dry. For a while, he was thoughtful, and then he raised his wand again and pointed it at the window.
"Sarin krath karon," he whispered, and the window let off a pinkish glow. "That explains it," he muttered, "Enchanted."
"What's enchanted?" asked a sleepy but curious voice from the corner. Hermione was awake.
"The window," Harry answered, gesturing at the glowing glass. "I'm guessing they all are."
"But why would someone enchant the windows?" Hermione wondered. Harry shifted uncomfortably.
"Well…" he began uneasily. He glanced over at Malfoy. "Remember last night when Malfoy's hand was all bloody?"
"Yeah…" Hermione said slowly.
"He told me that he saw Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest last night."
There was a stunned silence. Hermione glanced at him worriedly.
"I'm sure he didn't do anything to Draco," she assured him half-heartedly.
"No, the reason why these windows are enchanted is to make sure no one can get in or out." Harry bit his lip and glanced at her.
"What's bothering me most," he murmured, "is that I think Dumbledore can read my mind."
Hermione stared.
"No—he wouldn't," she said. "Would he?"
Harry didn't answer. Instead, he turned and stared out the window at the rising sun.
"Harry?"
He turned to look at her. "Yeah?"
Up close, in the early-morning light, Hermione thought he looked rather pale. It suddenly struck her how tall he was.
"Oh, Harry," she said softly, wrapping her arms around his waist. Harry hugged her back. It was a very strange feeling, as if an electric shock went through them, something that neither of them could place. Hermione lifted up her head to look into his eyes. Harry closed them and slowly leaned forward—
"Oh, how cute." Malfoy's voice came floating over to them as if from a long way off. Harry and Hermione sprang apart. Malfoy was eyeing them sleepily. Ron was sitting up, his eyes sparkling mischievously, making odd, gagging noises from behind his hand.
"How long have you been watching?" Harry almost shouted indignantly. Malfoy grinned.
"Oh, about ten minutes," he drawled. "You two practically went off to an entirely different planet."
Harry felt his face burn. Glancing over at Ron, he saw that he had stopped laughing. He was now staring at Harry and Hermione as if in a completely different light than before.
"What?" said Harry, seeing Ron's mouth go slack as he looked from one to another.
"Huh? Oh—I—was—just—wondering—why the window's pink," he said quickly, snapping his mouth shut.
"Oh, yeah," Harry said. He turned around. "Finete Incantantem." The glowing ceased at once.
"Where'd you learn that?" asked Hermione in amazement. Harry shrugged.
"I remember reading it somewhere. Maybe just some book from the library. I didn't really expect it to work, anyway."
Ron made an impatient noise. "You still haven't answered my question," he fumed.
"There was some kind of enchantment on it," Harry told him apologetically. "The glowing was just a spell I put on it to see why it wouldn't break."
"But why would someone put an enchantment on a window?"
"Maybe there's something outside they don't want to get in," Harry said, without thinking. He immediately regretted it, because the room went very still.
Malfoy shook his silvery blonde hair out of his eyes, stood up, and walked towards the door, ignoring the wobbly feeling in his legs. Just as he was about to open it to leave, it swung open. Seeing Dumbledore standing there with his wand extended, Draco instinctively ducked, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione covered their faces, expecting sleeping powder to shoot out at any moment.
Seeing this, Dumbledore chuckled and lowered his wand. Looking around at the four in the room, he pocketed his wand.
"I need to speak to Mr Potter and Mr Malfoy, alone," he said, and raised an eyebrow at Hermione and Ron, who immediately got the hint, and stood up to leave.
Once they had left, Dumbledore led Draco back to his bed and sat him down. He brandished his wand and mumbled a few words. Instantly, a large armchair appeared right behind him out of nowhere, and he plopped himself down. It was a very beautiful, rich purple, strands of silver and gold woven into the soft fabric. It appeared to be so delightfully comfortable that Harry wondered why Dumbledore didn't sink right through the squashy cushion and out of sight.
"It has come to my attention," he started, his blue eyes once again sparkling, "that you two have formed a, shall we say, secret connection."
Harry and Draco exchanged confused glances before Dumbledore continued; Draco was absolutely sure their Headmaster had lost it completely.
"You are not alone. Others in this school possess similar telepathic bonds—but yours is most unusual, it's stronger than most…and normally, the link is not formed between two who have…let's just say, different points of view."
Both Harry's and Draco's jaws hit the floor. How does he know? Draco asked telepathically.
No idea…who else do you think has the link?
"Boys, boys, feel free to talk out loud, you don't need to use your telepathy right now!" Dumbledore insisted, his fingers templed under his chin.
"You can hear us? Are you linked, too?" asked Harry.
"No, no. It takes very powerful Dark magic to be able to bridge an already formed connection. If I could hear you, believe me, you would feel it."
"Then how do you know?" Draco asked.
"I have my ways," Dumbledore said simply, smiling and winking.
Deciding it was no use to try to get a straight answer out of his Headmaster, Harry asked the next thing on his mind.
"Who else has a mind link? You said there were others who had one."
Dumbledore smiled again.
"I'm not really supposed to say, but I think they would be glad to help you out," Dumbledore answered with another wink. He bent closer to whisper in their ears. Without another word, he swept out of the ward, leaving the boys to ponder, Harry with his mouth open wide, turning to Draco, who looked disgusted.
"The Weasleys?" he said incredulously, but the door shut with a snap. "Those perverted, red-haired, dirt poor twins?"
Harry spluttered indignantly.
"Sorry," Draco said, checking himself. "Anyway, you can forget that, they wouldn't help me if their lives depended on it."
"I wouldn't doubt that," Harry sniggered, "considering you insult them even when they aren't around."
Draco sighed and began pulling on his robes.
Harry smiled, standing up and brushing his jet-black hair out of his eyes.
"Yeah, but they'll do it for me."
*******
Harry and Draco were standing in the hall, just outside an abandoned classroom. Harry was holding a tattered piece of old parchment with his wand raised above it.
"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he said, tapping it. Instantly, spidery green ink spiralled over the surface, transforming into some sort of map with tiny dots moving over the flat paper.
"Exactly how can you be solemnly up to no good?" Malfoy asked with innocent curiosity. Harry ignored him and examined the map. Just as he had suspected, the twins were sneaking out of Potions class, through one of their newly discovered secret passages, which ended up in this hallway. He pushed Draco into the empty classroom and waited for the twins to emerge.
"Oi, Fred, look, it's Harry!" George exclaimed upon seeing him.
"Skipping class, we've taught him well!" Fred interrupted.
Harry rolled his eyes and pushed the two towards the room that Draco was standing in. "I need your help. I figured you'd be skipping Potions—"
"And you figured correctly, young grasshopper," George said solemnly.
"—so I—err, we—were just wondering if—"
George was about to say something when he saw Draco standing behind Harry. "Oi, Harry, watch out, there's a dangerous pasty shrimp standing behind you!"
Harry sweat dropped.
"What was that, Freckle Face?" Draco returned, his cheeks turning a light pink shade of anger. Fred and George began to laugh.
"Shut up, or I'll shove my foot right up your—"
"Malfoy!" Harry cut him short warningly, and Draco fell silent.
"Good job, Harry, you've got him trained like a lap dog!" Fred congratulated him, and the twins roared with laughter again.
That was it. Draco snapped. He lunged forward, hi fist two inches from Fred or George's face (sorry, we can't tell which) when Harry grabbed the back of his robes and yanked him backwards. Malfoy hit the floor with a dull thud. His glare could have wilted flowers, and he continued swearing viciously at Harry in his head.
"Three against one…I like the odds!" George started.
"I say we have a go at it," Fred finished for him, rolling up his sleeves.
"No!" Harry shouted exasperatedly. "Urg! Me and Malfoy need your help!"
"With our mind-link, err, problem…Dumbledore told us to come to you," Draco interrupted, his expression sour. "And believe me, I'm not too happy about the arrangements either…"
It took a couple more insults, multiple attempts at fistfights, and several curses, but they finally got some info out of the twins.
"All right, all right…" George panted, wrenching his wrist out of Malfoy's grasp. He glanced at Fred, who was being restrained by Harry from ripping Malfoy's throat out. "Here's what you need to know."
"You need to trust each other, for a start," said Fred, eyeing Malfoy distrustfully.
"And make sure that you're careful—"
"Cuz almost anything that happens to one of you will happen to the other."
"Yeah, we know," said Draco impatiently.
After a while, Draco complained that this was boring, and spending over an hour in the company of two Weasleys was giving him a headache, so Harry and Draco left the twins, Draco departing for Transfiguration, and Harry to Divination.
*********
When Harry arrived in the dark, stuffy classroom, everyone turned and glanced at him nervously as he took his seat next to Ron.
"It is a pleasure to see you here at last, dear boy," a soft, misty voice whispered from the shadows. "You are just in time for me to inform you of the signs that the smoke of incense yield to us."
Ron yawned widely as Professor Trelawney emerged from the shadows. But Harry didn't see any of this. He was just staring lazily into the glowing fire.
"Please come forward to receive your stick of incense, then use pages six hundred sixty-five to six hundred sixty-six in your text books."
Ron and Harry groaned as they stood up with the rest of the students and filed forward to the teacher. Upon receiving their incense sticks, they returned to their seats and opened their copies of Fortune Telling—Palmistry, Prophesies, and Much, Much More!
"Smoke signs…" Harry muttered. "What'll she make us do next?"
"She'll tell us we can see death omens in fish," Ron said sagely.
"In a matter of weeks, dear children, we will be concentrating on the omens which are shown to us through sea life," Professor Trelawney whispered excitedly, as if this was a huge treat. Harry stared at Ron with disbelief mixed with amusement on his face as Ron shook with silent laughter, lighting his piece of incense with a shaking hand.
"Right," he said, dazedly consulting the pages devoted to smoke signs. "This is weird…It doesn't resemble anything I've ever seen before…except for maybe—"
Harry snorted. "It kind of looks like…err, a—a star?"
"Yeah, maybe…what's that mean? ' Important days are ahead of you, plan them carefully.' Oh, doesn't that make me special?"
"Riiiiiiiiiight…" Harry snorted again. "Okay, so how about mine?" He lit his with his wand as Ron had done.
"Okay," he said, glancing at the Divination teacher. He wasn't much in the mood for a death prediction, no matter how fake it seemed. "This could be…um…err…I want to say, maybe, a lion?"
But at that moment, the smoke shape changed. It now resembled a heart—but with a jagged slash down the middle. Startled, Harry glanced down at the page.
" 'You will gain the one you love, but only to lose another,'" he read. Then he glanced up at Ron, who shrugged.
"That will be all for today, my dears," Professor Trelawney said softly. "For homework, kindly read the rest of the chapter and write a paragraph on what you saw. To be handed in tomorrow."
Harry sighed and Ron looked at his incense stick knowingly. "I saw…ummm…" He sweat dropped. "I saw Harry dying…that'll make her happy…"
"Gee, thanks, I feel so loved," Harry grumbled, rolling his eyes.
"No problem, anytime." Ron handed the incense stick to the professor, but as he and Harry were just turning to leave (everyone had already gone) Trelawney slumped over in her chair. Ron raised his eyebrow and looked questioning at Harry.
Then a deep, haunting voice broke the silence, making both boys jump. It was Professor Trelawney.
"The Boy Who Lived has many admirers, young and old. But only two shall openly express their love for him. During this time of great importance, one will win his heart—"
But Ron couldn't take it anymore. He burst out laughing, breaking Professor Trelawney's trance and the spooky feeling that held Harry spellbound.
"Harry? A date? HA!"
Harry frowned. "Hey, it's not that unbelievable!"
Ron just continued to laugh. Harry stuck out his foot as Ron walked by, causing him to trip and land nose first on the floor. He came back up, still laughing his head off, but holding his bloody nose that had broken in his fall. He turned around and ran for the door, still shaking with uncontrollable laughter.
"Where are you going?" Harry hollered, though he was beginning to smile.
"Nurses…office!" Ron managed to shout as he slit down the ladder, his gales of laughter echoing off the walls in the corridor.
Harry shook his head and glanced over his shoulder at the Divination teacher, who was half hidden in shadow, wearing a look of confusion and staring blankly into space. Then he turned and followed Ron down the silvery ladder.
*******
Harry and Ron slumped down into armchairs in front of the fire after a Saturday night session of Quidditch practise. Both were sopping wet and gasping for breath. The thunderstorm that shrieked outside had been raging all week.
"Hey you two," said Hermione, smiling up at them from her Arithmancy homework. Ron rolled his eyes at her, having given up on preaching to her about the meaning of a Saturday night and being a teenager: Don't do your homework now! She gave him a stern look that told him quite clearly not to even think about it.
"How did practise go?" she asked.
"Oh, Ron thought it would be funny to chuck the Bludgers at Alex, then had to fly for his life before she knocked him off his broomstick—"
"Yeah, well, you nearly fell off too when Cho came out to watch," Ron shot back sourly.
Harry stopped in mid-yawn at this and turned bright red.
"I still never found out what she wanted," Harry grumbled.
"Oh, that reminds me," Hermione said, breaking up the conversation. "There's something over there on the bulletin board that could help you two with your tangled love lives." She jabbed her thumb at a group of sixth years clustered around a sign at the other end of the room near the portrait hole. Harry and Ron got up and walked over to have a look. The sign read:
Christmas Ball 25 DecemberHalf past seven to midnight
Dress robes to be worn
Fourth year and up.
"Oh, no, not again," Harry and Ron groaned together.
"Did she say help?" said Harry. "Yeah, it'll help me make a total prat of myself again…"
"You don't know that," Ron said reasonably.
"I have the strange feeling we've said almost these same words last year…"
"You're not a champion this year, and Diggory's—" He stopped awkwardly. "Sorry," he said quickly. Harry shrugged.
"Doesn't matter," he muttered. "I might as well ask Cho out again."
He sighed and sat back down next to Hermione, leaving Ron standing there, staring at the sign. Shaking his head, he returned to his friends.
*******
"Okay, team," Harry said next Saturday afternoon. They were in the locker room, preparing for the second-to-the-last match of the school year: Gryffindor versus Slytherin, of course. If Gryffindor won, they would move up to second place. If they lost, well, then, they were screwed.
"We beat them once, so we can beat them again. True, this is the first tournament in a year, but we still have the right stuff."
A whistle blew from outside, signalling that it was time for the game to begin. Harry swallowed nervously. "Right. You all know what's at stake…Let's go and show them what we've got!" The team cheered. Fred muttered to George, "He's almost as much of a fanatic as Oliver was."
"Shut up, you two," Harry groaned.
"Point taken," George said under his breath.
"Alright, let's go!"
If the team had been cheering, it was nothing in comparison to what the rest of the school was doing. They were screaming themselves hoarse, their shouts echoing around the stadium, magnifying them by at least ten times. The team's scarlet robes glowed in the afternoon sun like blood spattered over their pale forms. The Slytherins', in green, shone brightly, making each of them look rather sallow, except for Malfoy, Hermione thought.
"Captains, shake hands," Madam Hooch instructed. Harry moved forward to shake Montague's hand. (Malfoy hadn't played long enough, nor was he good enough.) ["Damn you," says Crissy.] "Mount your brooms." Madam Hooch blew her whistle, and all fifteen brooms rose into the air.
Harry had to admit that Malfoy had gotten better since the last time they had played each other. He had seen Malfoy out on the pitch till late into the night, practising until he nearly fell asleep on his broom. Harry had felt a pang of guilt while watching, his Quidditch skills had come so naturally and here was Malfoy, practising his ass off.
He shook his head to clear his thoughts and pulled his broom up higher into the air above the rest. His eyes scanned the field for the tiny Golden Snitch. He heard roaring cheers from the Gryffindors and the jeers from the Slytherins. Ten points for Gryffindor. Zero for Slytherin.
Malfoy swore loudly in telepathy. Harry smiled wryly.
Then, suddenly, he saw a flash of gold out of the corner of his eye. He turned around and followed it. Malfoy, unfortunately, was already on it. Harry was closer, but Malfoy's broom was faster. Malfoy was gaining on it, he was almost there—
WHOOSH. Something scarlet zoomed in front of them, so quickly that neither Malfoy nor Harry saw it coming or what it was. The figure skidded to a halt, hovering before them. Grinning from ear to ear was Alex.
"Come on, Harry!" she yelled, "You can beat him!"
She's right, he thought, Just because his broom's better than mine doesn't mean he's better than me…
Oh, yes it does, Malfoy shot back.
Remember that time in second year when you had the Snitch right on top of your head and you didn't even notice?
Yeah, and remember that time you lost against Hufflepuff?
You've got some nerve—
The crowd cheered again. Gryffindor scored again, thanks to Alex, who was showing the Slytherins no mercy. Her PhoenixFlyer400 was clearly doing its job.
"Gryffindor lead—one hundred sixty points to fifty," Lee Jordan shouted gleefully.
It suddenly occurred to Harry and Draco that they were floating in mid air, above the game, glaring at each other as they bickered silently. Coming back to their senses, they shot away in opposite directions.
*******
"Oh, no, they're at it again," Hermione groaned to Ginny, seeing the two boys on their broomsticks and glaring at one another.
"At what?" Ginny asked absently, searching for Ron in the flurry of robes, balls, and broomsticks.
"Nothing…" Hermione was just about to reprimand them silently when their eyes widened in surprise, and they sped away.
Back up in the air, Malfoy was tailing Harry closely. At every turn he blocked him, keeping Harry away from the Snitch.
Harry got a sudden idea, a simple one that he nonetheless had forgotten about after his argument with Malfoy. But he didn't dare think of it in the way Malfoy could hear; more felt it than used it as a replacement for speaking out loud.
The Wronski Feint!
Pulling his broom down sharply, Harry turned it pointing downward in one of his especially steep dives. Malfoy followed him, of course, but just as Harry pulled out of the dive, Malfoy, whose broom was faster and much less easily controlled, hit the grass with a thud.
The Slytherins groaned, but the Gryffindors laughed loudly.
Swearing loudly and clutching his head, Malfoy quickly zoomed back into the air.
All at once, it began to rain. The downpour soaked the players to the skin. Harry quickly preformed the water-repelling charm on his glasses as Hermione had done, two years ago.
Malfoy couldn't see as well as he could, since he was getting water in his eyes. Harry wasn't, so he could fly at top speed. He dodged the Bludgers, Beaters, Quaffle, and Chasers, winding around and around for the Snitch—
"FOUL!" the Gryffindors screeched. Harry whipped around to see Ron bent double, clutching his broomstick. It appeared that a Slytherin Beater had thrown his club at him, knocking the wind out of him.
"Foul!" Madam Hooch yelled.
"And the Quaffle is taken by fourth year Alex Prelling of Gryffindor…"
After the penalty was made, the Gryffindors leapt into action. But the Slytherins soon pulled up.
"Gryffindor still in the lead, one hundred eighty points to a hundred…"
The game was becoming increasingly brutal. Fouls where made, penalties were given, a few more scores took place, but still, no sign of the Snitch.
The rain pounded harder and harder. Harry swerved this way and that, searching for the tell-tale speck of gold. Lightning flashed, thunder roared, but still, the game went on.
There it is! The Snitch! Harry thought wildly, in his excitement forgetting about Malfoy. It was straight above him. Streaking upward, he caught a flash of emerald out of the corner of his eye. Malfoy was right behind him. Harry went faster, desperate to get there before him. The rain and wind stung his face and whistled in his ears. He was getting closer, he was almost there…
It happened in a flash of lighting and a scream of thunder. A figure came completely out of nowhere. The crowd screeched and roared, then suddenly quieted at the sight.
A smaller, whiter fist than the one they had expected clenched the Snitch. A figure in green robes instead of red. Blonde instead of black hair. Malfoy instead of Harry.
Malfoy raised his fist in ecstatically triumphant pride…
Slytherin had won.
********
A/N: Yes, I know. It's sad, isn't it? OUCH! Okay, okay, Crissy, give it a rest, Slytherin won…your hottie and all saved the day…alright, alright! I'll shut up now! Just put that knife back where it came from, okay? Okay, okay, I'll say it: Thank you, Crissy, for all your help, I couldn't have done it without you. Happy? Heeheehee. Right, now that you've all had your fair share of action (if you can call that action), I will now proceed to the somewhat mushy crap that I suck at and very few people I know can put up with. You have been warned. Heheh, joking. -J