A/N: Oh goodness! This took me forever! I apologize, but I wanted to make sure I got it just right. I hope you'll understand why as you read. And it's extra long for your patience!!!
There exists a veil of perception that disallows us from knowing all about our world. We can only know what we can see and feel and hear. But, does seeing, hearing, and feeling lead to truth? That depends. Does everyone speak and act truthfully? We can be deceived, betrayed- sometimes by others, sometimes by our selves. Deception and betrayal lead to anger. Anger makes us irrational. Ration makes us human. Do we not all wish to be human? And yet we allow ourselves to be controlled by our anger when we feel it. Who among us is truly strong enough not to react in anger? Whether we are angry for moments or years, when our hearts are filled with anger, there is no room for love. When there is no room for love, there is no light. When there is not light, what are we but an empty husk, waiting to be filled? But beware. When we are so empty, we rarely have choices in what will fill us.
Dumbledore and McGonagall stood patiently by Snape's bedside where he had been stirring now for a quarter of an hour. He was expected to awaken any time, but even these movements, drawing his hands to his chest, turning his face away from the window, and finally half covering his face with the crook of his arm, were a welcome sight to the Headmaster and his Deputy.
"Albus, how did you bring him back?" Minerva asked softly.
"Gentle coaxing," the Headmaster answered with a winsome smile. "And a thorough understanding of Severus' personality."
"Lying." The voice was muffled under his protective arm, but a moment later, Snape peeked out from behind this barrier to scowl at his mentor. "He lied to me."
"Severus, how are you feeling?" Minerva asked, patting his arm gently.
"The coma was less uncomfortable," he growled, covering his eyes again with his arm. "Can somebody cover that blasted window?"
The curtains slid into place, filtering all light from the room.
"Are we feeling irritable this morning, Severus?" Dumbledore asked.
Snape removed his arm from his face, but remained with his eyes closed. Even the lights in the room were unbearable.
"My head is pounding," he told them. Then, cracking his eyes open a just enough to see, he questioned Dumbledore. "What happened to Potter?"
"Nothing," came the answer. "He did not seem to suffer the same affects you did, beyond feeling guilty for your condition."
"Not even a headache?" Snape asked, closing his eyes again.
"Not a normal one."
Snape's eyes opened again, concentrating fully on the aged wizard before him. Not a normal one. That meant it was his scar. His scar meant the Dark Lord. But Snape did not even have to voice this. Dumbledore met his eyes and nodded.
"Why?"
"We do not know why, certainly not after such a long silence. However, it seems that you absorbed whatever it is he was trying to force on Harry."
"His own nightmares."
Another nod.
"Why? What good would that do him?" Snape had his hand pressed to his chin, his headache all but forgotten. "He's weakening him," he said at last. "It's easier for him to slip in when Potter is emotional. Scared. Angry. The Dark Lord can feed off this. Use it to his advantage."
"We came to a similar conclusion," Dumbledore told him. "Fortunately, at least for Harry, you were affected, and not he."
But Snape did not hear this. He was staring off silently, not hearing any of the remainder of the conversation between Albus and Minerva. He had more on his mind than his headache.
¤¤¤¤
Harry Potter was pacing his room, wearing the rug in his trek from the window to the door and back again. He was beginning to feel claustrophobic, trapped.
Caged.
I am not caged.
Imprisoned. They do not trust you. Who can blame them, after what you've done?
Oh, shut up.
Why won't they let you leave? Why can't you see your friends?
They're protecting me.
Protecting you? Or them? All those students out in the courtyard, yet you are the only one they're protecting. What single life is more valuable than all those? What makes you so special?
Nothing.
You're the only one caged up in a tower. You're the only one kept separate from the others.
I don't know that.
They never told you about your parents or how you got your scar. What else aren't they telling you? What else don't you know?
I don't know a lot of things.
No, you don't. You don't even know who you can trust.
I can trust Ron and-.
Ron? He doesn't trust you. He doesn't care who you are- only who you were.
-and Dumbledore-
Who hides things from you.
-and Remus-
The half-breed.
-and Sirius-
A criminal. You're running out of choices. You're running out of time.
¤¤¤¤
Hermione hesitated outside the Hospital Wing as the voice of the Headmaster floated out into corridor.
"We should watch him closely. If there is any chance that what you suspect is true-." He stopped in mid-sentence. "Miss Granger, you may come in rather than standing outside the door."
Hermione flinched at being caught listening in, then stepped into the large room, wrestling to hide her embarrassment. The room was much darker than it would usually be at this time of day, and none of the beds were filled but one, occupied by Professor Snape, who was propped up by several pillows and now looking at the Gryffindor Prefect with an unreadable gaze. He didn't appear angry or annoyed. But there was something there. Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall were both standing at his bedside, looking also at the girl who had just entered their midst.
"Yes, Miss Granger?" McGonagall prompted with all the patience this interruption could muster.
"Professors," Hermione began, not sure exactly who she should be addressing, "Ron and I haven't seen Harry in nearly four days. We wanted to know if we could go see him tonight."
"I am afraid that is not possible," McGonagall answered before the last of her request was out of Hermione's mouth.
"But why?" she demanded a little too forcefully, looking from her Head of House to her Headmaster. Catching their surprised faces, she lowered her tone to a less demanding, more argumentative one. "I don't understand, Professor," she said, looking now at Dumbledore. "We've been trying to help him. Harry's remembered so much in the last month that I can't understand why this therapy for him would just be halted like this. He's making progress. Good progress, and if you'd only let us spend more time with him, I'm sure he'll remember more than before."
"Hermione," Dumbledore said, halting her before she could take another breath, "I am well aware of the good you and Ron have been doing Harry. Every time I speak to him, he is more and more himself, remembering his past with better clarity. Both you and Mr. Weasley are indeed good friends to care so much for Harry's well-being. However, I must ask you both to respect what I have asked on this matter." Sighing, Hermione looked away from the Headmaster's blue eyes, and he paused until her eyes met his again. "I realize you think you are looking out for Harry's best interest, but remember, I am, as well."
As much as she wanted to find an argument to counteract the old Headmaster, she could gather no thoughts or words to convey them. It was as if her brain had agreed with him and shut down on her. Or perhaps, deep down, she trusted that Dumbledore was doing the right thing, no matter how it disagreed with what she wanted. With nothing more to argue or say, Hermione excused herself and headed toward the Tower to share with Ron the Headmaster's answer.
¤¤¤¤
Harry stood at the window in his room, his forehead pressed against the glass, watching the students on the grounds below. He could see them below, lounging in the grass, talking animatedly, though none of their words reached him. He was cut off from them. He banged his head several times on the glass before turning quickly and looking with angry eyes around his room.
Do you deny now that you are a prisoner? That you are not trusted? They're not protecting you. They're protecting them!
Shut up.
They see the Darkness in you. They know how powerful you are. More powerful than even Dumbledore. They are afraid of you.
I said, Shut up!
Yes, you did, but you have not told me I was wrong. You know it as I do. Deep down, you know you are filled with the Darkness: the anger, the hatred. You are letting it consume you. Let it out, boy. Let it consume them.
Harry dropped onto his bed, head in his hands, willing himself not to cry out as his scar lit up with pain.
¤¤¤¤
"So? What did he say?" Ron asked without looking up. Hermione had entered his dormitory and thrown herself down on the bed in frustration as Ron rummaged through his trunk looking for a pair of warmer socks to wear for Quidditch practice.
"Eefenno."
"What?"
"He said no," she repeated, lifting her face from his pillow.
"Why?" Ron asked, sitting now on the bed next to where she lay.
"He didn't say. Just said for us to trust that he's looking out for Harry's best interest."
"Maybe he's right," Ron said tentatively, feeling Hermione tense beside him. "Maybe we should just trust him."
"Ron!"
"Look, don't start, Hermione. I don't really have time to argue with you again. I'm just saying that maybe we should trust him. We know he'd never do anything bad to Harry."
She flopped her face back down. Ron raised an amused eyebrow.
"You know, Hermione, ever since we found out Harry was alive, you've been acting more and more like him."
"Why don't you go date him then?"
"He's not as cute when he's angry," he answered, kissing her on top of her hair. He bounced from the bed and grabbed his Cleansweep from where it leaned against the bedpost. "I have to go to practice. You wanna walk with me to the pitch?"
"Yeah," she answered, sliding from the bed. He took her hand and they walked in silence down the staircase and through the Common Room, drawing stares from the few Gryffindors left who weren't quite used to their two fifth year Prefects dating, and out through the portrait.
"Did Professor Dumbledore say how long it will be yet?" Ron asked as they made their way through the castle.
"No," she answered, biting on her bottom lip. "I wonder if something happened that we're not allowed to see Harry."
"Dunno," Ron replied, waving to Lee Jordan as they crossed paths in the corridor.
"The last time we saw him was the night Snape was sent to the Hospital Wing."
"Maybe Harry attacked him. Finally got tired of the greasy git."
"Unlikely, though. If you had heard that happened, would you honestly believe it?"
"No," he returned with a smile, "but I'd enjoy imagining it over and over."
They were crossing the lawn now, the hoops of the Quidditch patch and surrounding stadium looming before them in the distance where a few members of the team could be seen flying laps to warm up.
"Ron," Hermione said suddenly, "if there was a way we could see Harry, would you want to?"
"Of course."
"Even if it meant going against Dumbledore's wishes?"
"You mean breaking rules?" Ron faked an appalled look. "Hermione, where could you have possibly picked up this habit of ignoring the rules? How un-Prefectish of you."
"Prefectish isn't even a word… and I'm serious. Would you sneak up to see Harry?"
Ron's face went suddenly serious, and without hesitation, he answered, "Yes."
"Good." She grinned broadly. "I have a feeling Mr. Lupin will be leaving the door to Harry's room soon, and when he does, I'll sneak in and get Harry's cloak. I'll leave it behind that statue near the stairs so you can come in after practice."
"How do you know he's going to leave?"
"Because he's the only one that can talk to Sirius when he's as mad as he is right now." Ron followed her gaze toward the gates of the school, spying a rather large black dog limping toward the entrance, a very angry look on its canine face. Hermione squeezed his hand, kissed him on the cheek, and reminded him to come upstairs as soon as practice was over, then ran for the castle to alert Lupin that his very pissed-off friend was on his way.
¤¤¤¤
Moments later, Hermione was sprinting up the stairs toward the third floor corridor, breathing hard, but determined to reach Lupin before Sirius could be discovered by another staff member. She hesitated at the top of the stairs just long enough to catch her breath, then ran to meet Lupin just outside Harry's door.
"Professor Lupin!" she cried, forgetting for a moment that he was no longer her professor.
"Hermione? What's wrong?" he asked as soon as he saw her.
"It's- It's Snuffles, sir. He's out on the lawn, and I think he's injured!"
"Find the Headmaster-."
"I tried! I don't know where he is! You have to hurry!" She seized his hand and began pulling him toward the stairs.
"Hermione, I cannot-."
"He's hurt! Didn't you hear me? I think something happened to him!" She forced herself not to smile at his exasperated sigh.
"All right, where is he?" he asked, following her now down the stairs.
"He was just inside the gates when I saw him."
"Find the Headmaster. I'll see to- Snuffles."
As soon as he was out of sight, Hermione turned and ran back up the stairs, triumphant that her scheme had worked so far. She knocked tentatively at Harry's door, and as soon as he opened the door, too shocked at having a visitor to speak, she motioned for him to wait, grabbed his Invisibility Cloak from where it hung near the door, and ran to stuff it behind the statue near the staircase.
Returning to the room, she was greeted by a still silent Harry.
¤¤¤¤
"Really, Padfoot, you've gone too far this time," Remus muttered as he walked slowly beside the limping canine. "Dumbledore will not be happy with this."
The large black dog scowled at the man beside him, but continued in silence, forming a plan in his head to escape from his friend and sniff out Harry on his own, without having to see the Headmaster first. Unfortunately, he was greeted by just the voice he did not want to hear.
"I told you to stay home."
Sirius raised his shaggy head and found the Headmaster standing in the doorway of the Hospital Wing, a disappointed look on his face. Sirius pushed past him, into the Hospital Wing, and as soon as Remus had pulled the door closed, turned into his human form. He folded his arms across his chest and stared stubbornly at his former Headmaster.
"I'm here to see my godson."
¤¤¤¤
"Harry, what's wrong?" Hermione asked, concern apparent on her face.
"Nothing," he answered quickly. "My head just hurts."
"Is it-?"
"No," came the reply before she could even ask. "Just a headache."
"Oh. Do you want me to go?"
"No. I don't get too many visitors any more. Please don't leave."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah." He ran his fingers through his hair, staring absently into the air. "Just- just don't leave me here alone."
Hermione bit her lip, unsure what to say to Harry for the first time in several weeks. Though he had said very little, for some reason he seemed as lost as he had that night so long ago when she and Ron had snuck up to his room for the first time. There was a great distance in his eyes, and Hermione knew him well enough to know that that distance was not a good thing.
"Are you sure you're okay?" She reached out, touching his shoulder to comfort him. "You seem really- sad."
"Why are you here?" he asked, looking up at her, though the question was not rude or demanding. It was more curious, as if he had truly expected that he had been left up here and forgotten.
"I was worried about you. Ron and I both were."
He seemed surprised for just a moment, before a small smile touched his lips.
"Worried for me?"
"Well of course, Harry," she replied, returning that smile. "You're our best friend and we haven't seen you for a while. Why wouldn't we be worried?"
His smiled widened, and he too reached up and placed his hand on top of Hermione's.
"Thank you. You don't know what it means to hear that." He wrapped his arms around her in a great hug. Hermione returned the embrace, and even though she could not see his face, she felt him trembling. He was crying as he held her.
'What has he been going through in here?' she wondered as she tightened the embrace.
"Thank you, Hermione," he whispered.
¤¤¤¤
"What do you mean he's still hearing the voices?" Sirius demanded. "I thought Snivellus was taking care of that!"
Snape's face tightened. Had he had his wand, Sirius would probably be lying in another bed in the hospital wing, deep in a coma. As it was, he only scowled. The insult on the tip of his tongue was stayed by Dumbledore's presence.
"Severus was helping him, Mr. Black," McGonagall countered. "And it nearly killed him."
"Pity it didn't."
"Sirius." Dumbledore did not raise his voice, but lowered it, a surer sign of his anger. "We have been doing everything we can to help Harry- Severus more than anyone. However, since this accident, we have had to be more careful. We cannot risk any lives, especially of students, if Voldemort enters his mind again." The Headmaster took a deep breath, calming himself before continuing. "I myself have tried to go to Harry to help him, but he either refuses help or-."
"You're keeping him locked up?!" Sirius was furious now. "He's a fifteen year old boy, Dumbledore! You can't keep him locked in his room like some prisoner. Merlin! Do you even care for Harry's well-being?"
"More than I should, in my position," came the soft reply. "It is because I care so deeply for Harry that I do not place him in a position to harm his fellow students- his friends." He was silent for just a moment before adding, "I would prefer he hate me for this, than himself for harming another."
Sirius huffed loudly, drawing a cross look from Remus, who had remained silent up to this point.
"I want to see my godson," he repeated, reminding both himself and the Headmaster why he had come here in the first place.
"Very well. Perhaps your presence will help him. Remus, will you show Sirius to Harry?"
¤¤¤¤
Ron hurried through the hallways of Hogwarts, drawing annoyed looks from fellow students was he rushed through the corridors toward the third floor. For once, he was excited that practice had been cancelled, thanks to a backfired Weasley prank, which had resulted in Fred, George, and an irate Katie and Angelina screaming back and forth across the pitch. Ron hadn't seen what the actual prank was, but was quick enough to escape before the girls' anger could spread to engulf any red headed Weasley.
He raced up the stairs, and with a quick search, found Harry's Invisibility Cloak right where Hermione had promised it to be. He slipped it on and hurried as quietly as possible toward Harry's door, finding it strangely unguarded. Frowning, he slipped the cloak from his shoulders.
¤¤¤¤
Harry's lips brushed Hermione's temple. She froze at the unfamiliar gesture from her friend… from any boy but Ron.
"I love you."
Bells went off in Hermione's head. This was not like Harry. It didn't even sound like him. Rather, it was as if he was repeating the lines of some play. Not only were the words all wrong, but Harry was never so openly about his feelings. There was definitely something very- wrong- about this whole situation.
"Harry," Hermione said, placing her hands on his chest and pushing him gently back. "You're just confused. You don't mean it, and even if you did, Ron and I-."
"No," Harry answered. "You really are the only person I can trust." He touched her cheek. "I care a lot for you."
"Harry-." Her protest was muffled by his lips pressing against her own. She didn't even have time to register what was happening when another, more angry voice joined them in the room.
"Hermione? HARRY?"
Hermione spun to face Ron, whose tall frame filled the doorway. His face was crimson, his eyes burning.
"Ron! It's- it's not what-." Again, her statement went unfinished as Ron had hurled himself across the room, pushing Hermione out of the way as his right fist closed, connecting hard with the side of Harry's face.
Hermione screamed as Harry's head whipped back, his body turning from the momentum of the punch, before falling to his hands and knees, facing away from Ron. She rushed to help Harry, but Ron caught her arm and whirled her around to face him.
"You- you- I can't believe you! How long has this been going on?!"
"There's nothing going on!" she spat back. "He's scared and confused, and you just punched him for no reason!"
"No reason?"
"It's not like he knew about us, Ron! It was misplaced affection because I comforted him, and you just hit him!"
"You let him! You let him-!" Ron's eyes widened suddenly as he looked down at the friend he had assaulted. Stunned, Hermione, followed his gaze to where Harry was kneeling on the floor, holding his head in his hands, rocking, his nose nearly touching the floor. But this was not what drew Ron's attention. It was the sound. Harry was laughing, but it wasn't his laughter. It was lower, maniacal. The laugh of someone who had accomplished a goal they once thought impossible.
"Harry?" Hermione asked, reaching out to touch his shoulder.
"I will not be touched by Mudblood filth," Harry pronounced, turning to face his friends. His whole appearance was changed. His gaze was darker, duller. His mouth twisted in an evil smile as he slowly rose to his feet.
"Apologize, Harry!" Ron demanded, pulling his wand from his pocket. "Apologize to Hermione!"
"Or what? You'll make me? You are but a child, and no match for myself." His wand was suddenly in his hand. Would you like to see how it's done, child? To make someone do something?" The smile twisted into a sneer. "Imperio!"
Hermione's eyes widened as the curse left Harry's lips. Ron's body relaxed, his eyes seeming to unfocus, as he slid down to his knees facing Harry.
"My Lord," he said, declining his head in a respectful bow.
A low laugh emanated from Harry's throat.
"I had thought it would be the Mudblood to push him over the edge-"
"Harry, stop it!" Hermione screamed. "Stop it!" But Harry's eyes were focused squarely on the redhead before him.
"Quiet, Filth!" Ron shouted, looking at her with venomous eyes.
"-to break his trust, fill him with enough anger for me to take over-"
"Harry, stop!" she cried again, desperate for this charade to end. Tears were streaming down her face.
"You dare speak to the Dark Lord, Mudblood?" Ron demanded, turning his wand on her.
"-but it is you I must thank, Ronald Weasley, for filling him with enough anger for me to take over. She filled you with jealousy. Punish her!"
"Ron, please," she sputtered. "Please, don't do this. You have to fight him. You know how."
"Impedimenta!" Ron's voice was firm as he cried out the spell.
A great force slammed into Hermione, sending her flying across the room into the heavy stone wall opposite. Pain shot through her body at the impact, her body bouncing from the stone and landing on the ground with a loud thud.
A muffled groan escaped her throat. Hermione's head was swimming as she opened her eyes and gazed pleadingly at her boyfriend.
"Ron?"
Her body suddenly flew upward, slamming hard against the ceiling before being allowed to fall back to the ground. This time, she did not open her eyes, nor did she make any sounds.
Ron Weasley towered over her, staring down with blank eyes and raised his wand one last time.
"Avada Kedavra."
Harry smiled as the body glowed for an instant. The Mudblood was dead. He cut off his Imperious control, highly amused.
Ron was still standing over the body, his wand arm extended when he regained control of himself. His eyes were wide as he stared down at the body at his feet, then at the wand clutched in his hand. The wand dropped from his hand, clattering to the floor and rolling away from him.
"'Mione?" The name was both a whisper and a sob as understanding dawned on him. The boy dropped to his knees, his hands hesitating above her, unsure what was happening. Finally, he took her hand and pressed it to his lips. "Hermione? Please wake up." He reached out, touching her face. Her skin was still warm. "Hermione, please," he repeated, tears stinging his eyes as he fought to control his voice. "Please, please," no more than a whisper as he again pressed her hand to his lips. He was aware of nothing but the young woman before him and the slow rhythm of his breath. He leaned over her, trying awkwardly to cradle her in his trembling arms, but froze, feeling the warm liquid thick on his fingers. Withdrawing his hand from under her head, he found that his fingers were covered in her blood. A low, heartfelt sob forced its way from his throat as he pulled her to him, burying his face in her hair. The world had stopped for him, leaving nothing but himself and the body of Hermione Granger in it, until he heard the unenthusiastic applaud coming from behind him. He turned slowly.
"Well done, young Weasley. You've killed your first Mudblood." Harry stared at him with cold eyes.
Blood pounded in Ron's ears as he stared up at his former best friend. Hatred seethed. He lowered Hermione back to the floor, planting a tender kiss on her forehead, then rose to his feet.
"How could you, Harry?" he demanded. "How could you do this?"
"You will not call me by that name!" he yelled back, pointing his wand at the taller boy. "You will refer to me more respectfully." He smiled menacingly. "I prefer 'My Lord.'"
"I swear, I'll kill you," Ron promised, stepping forward.
"You are but a child, and an unarmed one at that," Harry told him, brandishing Ron's own wand at him before pocketing it. "Seeing as how you already know how to murder," he looked pointedly at Hermione, "I think I'll teach you about torture next. Crucio!"
¤¤¤¤
"So, how is Harry?" Sirius asked as they climbed the stairs to the third floor.
"I'm not sure," Remus answered. "He hasn't spoken much since the whole incident. Mostly just lays on his bed."
"You should have told me, Moony. You should have told me everything."
"I'm well aware of that. However, I also knew you would insist on coming to the school if you thought he was in danger."
"And you see how well that worked."
"You know, Padfoot, Kingsley can't keep the Ministry off your back if you keep getting spotted all over-."
His words were interrupted by a scream that permeated the walls and filled the castle. Both men froze as the scream seemed to last forever. When it finally died, both men looked at each other.
"That came from the third floor," Remus said, staring up in that direction.
"Harry." Both men burst into a run as the scream began again, louder than before.
¤¤¤¤
Harry only lifted the curse when the boy slumped to the ground unconscious, unimpressed that the boy hadn't lasted more than a few minutes of the curse. He hesitated for a moment, wanting to kill the red-headed blood traitor, but restrained himself. It was Weasley's wand that had killed the Mudblood. He would be thrown into Azkaban as her murderer. It was a much more painful way for his life to end. Instead, Harry turned and walked out the unguarded room. He hurried down the corridor and was to the stairs when he was nearly knocked to the ground by someone much larger than his fifteen year old body. Black was holding him by his shoulders.
"Harry, are you all right?" he demanded.
Harry made no reply, but refrained from sneering at the man.
"We heard screaming," the werewolf told him, his eyes scanning the darkened corridor. "Do you know where it came from?"
An excellent opportunity to split the enemy, Harry merely looked toward his own room where the door stood still afar, trying to appear afraid rather than malicious.
"Sirius, stay with Harry," the werewolf told the convict before sprinting down the corridor and disappearing into the shadows.
"Harry, what happened?" the convict asked, dropping to his knees in front of him, holding his shoulders at arm's length. Harry leaned forward and whispered into his ear.
"You are a blood traitor."
Sirius looked at him with deep confusion, but then Harry's face changed. He was staring at his godfather with deep contempt, his mouth twisted into a malevolent smile.
"Harry?" Horror replaced the confusion as Harry's wand was pressed against his chest.
"Avada Kedavra," Harry whispered. A green light engulfed the convict's body as it slumped to the ground.
"Sirius! You'd better get down here!" The werewolf's voice shot from down the hallway. Harry glanced down the corridor. He couldn't see him, but he was coming.
¤¤¤¤
Remus approached the room cautiously with his wand out. Through the darkness of the corridor, he could no longer see Sirius or Harry. The door before him was all that was important at the moment. Sirius could protect Harry, but whoever was screaming in here had been in real pain.
He reached out and pushed the door slowly with his left hand, keeping his wand ahead of him. Slowly, the rest of the room came into view… and its contents. Hermione Granger lay near the wall, a great pool of blood forming around her head. Ron Weasley lay a few feet away. Both appeared dead.
"Sirius, you'd better get down here!" he yelled, stepping into the room. He knelt beside Ron, the closer of the two, and pressed his fingers to the side of the boy's neck, locating a weak pulse. A tremor ran through the boy's body, his muscles still reacting to the torture they had endured.
The Cruciatus Curse.
"Sirius?" he called again. He stiffened, listening for Sirius's approaching footsteps, but heard nothing. Even with a heightened sense of hearing, he heard nothing but the appallingly heavy silence. He rose and strode to the door, fearing he had left behind two more victims for whomever had done this. "Harry?" he called, hoping someone would answer him.
He was answered with laughter. Remus ran from the room. The hairs on his neck and arms stood on end. All of his senses screamed out trap, but he couldn't leave Harry and Sirius out there alone. The sight that greeted him was not one he had hoped to see. Sirius was lying on the ground, absolutely still, at Harry's feet. Remus was next to his friend in an instant.
"What happened, Harry?" he asked, turning Sirius over to see his face. His mouth hung open. His eyes stared. "Harry?" He pressed two fingers to Sirius's throat, then closed his eyes, feeling the defeat of a fallen comrade and friend. Padfoot was no more.
"In my experiences," Harry said softly, "half-breeds can withstand longer torture than wizards. Especially werewolves. They are used to great pain." Remus raised his eyes to find Harry's wand aimed at his chest. "Shall we see if that is true with you as well?"
Before Lupin could even react, his wand was ripped from his grasp, his body shoved hard so he flew down the corridor in the direction of Harry's room and slammed into a wall. He scrambled quickly to his feet.
"You're not Harry."
"You're half right. The part of me that can die is Harry." He leveled his wand. "Crucio!"
When the curse was lifted, Remus was lying on his back, panting hard. He heard footsteps and Harry's face appeared above him.
"I have always theorized that if a werewolf is subjected to this particular curse for long enough, he would transform without the assistance of the moon." His face appeared almost giddy at the chance to test his theory.
"What do you want?"
"I want Dumbledore, and your screams will bring him to me. Crucio!"
Every nerve in Remus' body registered excruciating pain and sent it to his overloaded brain. His bones burned. His back arched away from the stone floor. His fingers and toes curled painfully. Eyes rolled back in his head. Only after nearly a minute of this torture did the screams erupt from his throat, ricocheting off the walls and down the corridors, mocking his torment. The pain was eternal.
Even after the curse was broken off again, the pain remained, racing through his body like electricity on a wire. It was some time before he was aware he was no longer the center of the monster's attention.
¤¤¤¤
"Severus, Poppy would like you to stay in bed at least another day," Dumbledore told his Potions Master as the younger man swung his legs out from under the blankets.
"As much as I enjoy Madame Pomfrey's constant over-concern for my health, I do not intend staying here any longer. Where are my clothes?"
"Don't be so stubborn, Severus," the Deputy Headmistress told him. "You've only been awake for a few hours, and you hardly look like you can stand, let alone walk out of here."
Glaring at the Transfiguration Mistress, Snape stood, though on shaky legs, to prove his point. He noticed his clothing on a table near the foot of the bed and slowly reached for them, careful to keep any signs of weakness hidden, though his body felt quite heavy, as if he was dragging extra weight.
"Are you going to step behind the screen, Minerva, so I can change?"
"If I don't will it prevent you from being so hard-headed?"
"Not likely," he answered, shrugging off his shirt in front of her. She shook her head and walked around the screen, wishing to herself she had not seen the pale scars crisscrossing his thin body, gifts of his professions, both as a Potions Master and a spy. Beyond the screen, Snape dressed slowly, stopping every few moments so his head would stop spinning.
"You are not yet well, Severus," Dumbledore said as the younger man bent to pull on his shoes.
"I can heal as well in my own chambers."
A scream pierced the air suddenly. The three occupants of the room froze. Dumbledore was already moving toward the door when the scream rang out again, lasting much longer than anyone could withstand.
"Minerva, alert the staff. Get the students to their Houses. Send the staff to the third floor corridor."
"Pomfrey, where's my wand?" Snape demanded as the Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress raced from the room.
¤¤¤¤
"All students must report to their Common Rooms immediately. All staff report to the third floor corridor."
The announcement reverberated through the school as students hustled toward their Houses, casting terrified looks toward the professors who rushed against their flow toward the third floor. Everyone had heard the screams. It sounded as if someone was being tortured. And seeing the same apprehension on the faces of the staff was not comforting.
In the Gryffindor Common Room, Ginny Weasley stood on top of a table, peering through the crowds of students for Ron. Fred and George had run into her in the hallway and ran with her back to the Common Room, but no one had seen Ron.
"Maybe the Prefects were called on," Fred offered from where he stood below her, also trying to locate their brother. "I don't see Hermione either."
"No," Ginny said. "Right there's Evan Grimser. He's a Sixth year Prefect."
"Oy, Grimser!" George shot out. "You seen my brother?"
"He's right next to you, Weasley."
"Not that one. The Prefect, Ron. We can't find him or Hermione."
"Is anyone else missing?"
"That's your job!"
Grimser shot him an annoyed look and began counting students. Impatient, Ginny stuck her fingers in her mouth and blew as hard as she could. A loud shrill whistle silenced the room.
"Has anyone seen Ron Weasley or Hermione Granger?" she asked. The answer came as shaking heads. "Is anyone else missing?" Students looked around for their friends and roommates. More answers to the negative. Her legs felt like jelly, and the youngest Weasley would have fallen from the table had her brothers not caught her.
¤¤¤¤
When Snape reached the staircase to the third floor corridor, the entire staff had already gathered there. They hadn't had to threaten the school medi-witch to get their wand back. And there was no way he was investigating a scream like that unarmed. He made his way to the front of the crowd where the other Heads of House were gathered, studying the wards that had inexplicably been placed around the entrance, shielding them from entering.
"Can you remove it, Filius?" Minerva asked.
"I can try," Flitwick answered, rolling up his sleeves. He raised his wand. It was then that Snape realized exactly what he was looking at, and it terrified the hell out of him.
"No!" he yelled too late. As soon as Flitwick brought his wand down, his tiny body was blasted across the room, taking several unfortunate bystanders with him. They crashed against the wall and slid to the floor. Several were dazed. Flitwick's hands and face appeared burned. Professor Vector knelt beside him.
"What is it, Severus?" Minerva asked.
"I recognize these shields," he answered grimly. He turned his gaze to meet hers. "They were created by the Dark Lord."
"Voldemort? Here?" She gasped as he nodded. "How do we remove them?"
"We don't. Only he can."
"Then how do we get through?"
"We can't. Only those whom he allows can enter." He touched his left arm casually, knowing she would understand without having to explain it aloud where others could hear.
"You can't," she told him, lowering her voice. "You're too weak to face him alone."
"Is Albus already up there?"
"Yes."
"Then I won't be alone. Potter is up there, and as I recall, Lupin and Black were both heading this way as well. One of them, we heard screaming. Whoever it is will need help." He glanced back at the gathered staff, then returned his gaze to the Deputy Headmistress. "As soon as the shield drops, get up there, but be careful." Saying no more, he walked through the shield and disappeared from view.
¤¤¤¤
"Release him, Tom," Dumbledore said calmly to the wizard masquerading in Harry Potter's body. The boy's green eyes gazed up at him.
"Dumbledore, how nice of you to join us. How did you know it was me?"
"I recognized the path of destruction in your wake." He looked down at Sirius Black's body staring up at him, then to the body of Remus Lupin, still convulsing with pain, further down the corridor. When his gaze returned to Tom Riddle, his eyes were cold, focused. "I am surprised you came here, Tom. Surely you know you're trapped, unless you simply leave Harry's body."
"I'm rather enjoying myself here." He raised his wand.
¤¤¤¤
Snape made his way up the stairs as quietly as he could. Voices drifted down to him. He recognized Dumbledore's, but the voice he had expected to answer was not the one he heard. Potter! That's how he did it. He was in Potter's body.
He flattened himself against the wall and looked around the corner. To the right, he could see Dumbledore facing him. Potter was facing the Headmaster, his back to the stairs. Snape aimed his wand at Potter's back, but Dumbledore caught his eye.
Leave him to me. Help Remus.
Snape was tempted to argue, but Dumbledore looked back to Potter.
"You will not leave this school, Tom. Not in Harry's body."
"Then kill me."
"Death is too good for you."
Potter fired a curse at Dumbledore, which was easily deflected. The duel was begun. With the Dark Lord's attention consumed by his greatest foe, Snape sprinted down the corridor to where Lupin lay. He covered Lupin's mouth with his hand and pointed his wand at him.
"Ennervate." Lupin's body jerked to consciousness, but his cry was muffled against Snape's hand. He motioned for silence, removed his hand, and examined the other man. His body was shaking, interrupted only by more violent tremors that began in his hands and made their way to his chest. Other than that, he seemed to be whole. "Can you walk?"
Lupin nodded, and with Snape's help, got to his feet.
"Wait," he whispered urgently as Snape began to steer him toward the stairs.
"I'll come back for Black," Snape hissed.
"It's too late for Sirius," Lupin answered grimly. "Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger are in Harry's room."
"Has he-?" The look in Lupin's eyes answered his question before he had even formed it. "And they're alive?"
"Weasley is, at least, he was when I checked."
Snape glanced back at the two wizards farther down the corridor. Spells were flying back and forth, deflected into the walls, floor and ceiling.
"All right, let's go."
Though still weak himself, Snape supported Lupin's arm as they staggered toward the open door at the end of the corridor, drawn to it, though he could not imagine the ghastly sight which would meet him. Before they were even within the room, the contents inside were clearly visible.
Weasley lay in plain sight in the middle of the room, the muscles in his body still twitching miserably from his torture. In two strides, Snape was next to him, his fingers pressed against the boy's skin, searching for a pulse. It was weak, but he was alive.
Lupin was leaning over Granger, pulling her eyelids open with his fingers, looking for any kind of reaction. He was kneeling in the pool of blood, which had already begun to congeal around her head, not seeming to notice as it soaked through his robes. There was little hope on his face as he laid his head on her chest in a desperate attempt to catch any sign of a heartbeat.
"Neither of us is talented enough in healing to do them any good at this point," he pronounced grimly. "We must get them to the Hospital Wing."
"The Dark Lord has erected a shield," Snape answered. "Neither you, nor they can cross through it until he releases it."
"That could be too late!" His eyes lingered on Weasley as he said this.
Snape nodded, breaking Lupin's anxious gaze. Drawing his wand from his sleeve, he stood.
"Mobilus corpus." Both bodies rose slowly into the air. Drops of blood fell from Granger's hair and wound, prompting Lupin to tear off a piece of his robes and tie it over the about her head. Remaining close by her side, he nodded to Snape and they continued in complete silence
¤¤¤¤
Further down the corridor, just past the staircase where the two men were taking the unconscious Gryffindors, a dance, of sorts, ensued between two very powerful wizards. They waltzed, circling, one with a deceptively dismissive air, calmly countering spells and blocking curses, though his blue eyes never missed the slightest movement of the boy before him. The other circled as a vulture over carrion, nowhere near as languid. He appeared calm, though the timbre in his voice as he shot curses at his former headmaster betrayed the triumph he felt he had earned. Green eyes flashed angry as each curse was turned away.
The pair sparred with words, daring, jabbing, cutting where they wished, until the boy lowered his wand and smiled triumphantly at the man before him.
"Kill me now, Dumbledore. Kill me while I am in this body. Now is your chance."
"You are a coward, Tom, to hide in Harry's body."
"A coward? You are the coward. Come! Kill me now! Or is the boy too precious to you?"
"He is precious to me, as is the life of any so innocent."
A great laugh burst from Harry's lungs, tight and malicious as it escaped his throat.
"The Great Albus Dumbledore refuses to take a life, even if it means an end to his bane. And to think, people actually believe I fear you!"
Across the Headmaster's lips spread the smile of a teacher quietly musing over some nonsense sputtered by an erring child, in which the humor is seen only by that charming soul who would laugh within, but never without.
"Oh Tom," he cajoled, "there is still much for you to fear."
All humor drained from the boy's face.
"I fear nothing," he ground out.
"And you are an exquisite liar." The boy's head jerked in a menacing glare for just a fraction of a second, but the headmaster caught it deftly, muttering under his breath, "Leglimens." He eyes bore down on the younger man, who jerked once more, trying to pull away, but unable.
"You are not powerful enough to hold me, Dumbledore."
"No," the Headmaster agreed, as he delved through the thoughts cluttering this mind, "but you allowed yourself to be trapped in Harry's mind, and his, I am powerful enough to hold."
"Stop it, old fool!"
"Leave, Tom."
"Never!"
"That, then, is my answer as well."
¤¤¤¤
Lupin and Snape stood entranced at the top of the staircase, watching with morbid fascination as the confrontation transpired. The last exchange was lost on neither man. This battlefield was the mind of a fifteen year old boy.
Lupin wanted desperately to cry out for them to stop, to spare Harry his sanity, but knew that doing so would lead only to more bloodshed, more pain. He could only remain frozen, watching as a furious Harry struggled to fight back. Finally, the boy's eyes whipped open, blazing like twin green flames, as he cried out to his mother in a small voice.
"Is Harry reliving his worst memories?" Lupin asked shakily.
"No," Snape answered, well aware his own voice would tremble as well if he spoke above a whisper, though for different reasons. He was in awe, watching his mentor, a true master, at his craft. "He is reliving someone else's."
"Please!" Harry's voice cut across them. "You can't send me back to the orphanage! Let me stay here! Please!"
"Why do you wish to stay, Tom?" Dumbledore asked softly, though the strength in his voice revealed he knew the answer. Harry's breathing quickened. His eyes widened with abject terror. Suddenly, his hands and arms were thrust before his face, as if shielding himself from a physical blow. He whimpered, cried out for someone to help him, though his eyes remained locked on Dumbledore's.
"Get out of my head!" This voice was different. It was smaller, more frightened. Harry was fighting.
"It's no longer yours!" came the answer in the same, though harder, voice.
"Shall we continue, Tom? I know this is not the worst." The weariness in his voice could be heard only by Snape, who had grown so accustomed to trying to read the subtle headmaster, that this all but screamed out at him.
The air was suddenly shattered by a piercing scream from the young man, whose entire body was now trembling.
"Help me, Professor!"
"Force him out, Harry."
"I don't know how!" The boy's voice was just a whisper.
"You do, Harry. You can do this. Think of those you are trying to protect. Your friends. Your family. All who love you."
Harry seemed to be fighting an internal battle now, though Dumbledore had not yet yielded his support in the boy's mind. As Snape watched, he tried to determine exactly what was happening in Potter's head, what images were playing for him, Dumbledore, and the Dark Lord. What would finally force Him out?
The Dark Lord's shield was weakening. Already, Snape could hear the rest of the staff racing up the stairs toward them. McGonagall was the first to appear, with several others behind her. Her eyes widened at the sight of Dumbledore and Potter waging a mental battle in near silence, then turned her attentions toward her Prefects. The two children were levitated once again and rushed down to the Hospital Wing, while McGonagall remained next to Snape and Lupin, waiting for the outcome- ready against the unthinkable.
Harry's eyes finally opened wide, as if in shock, his body convulsed violently for several seconds before slumping and collapsing in a pile to the floor. The headmaster closed his eyes, heavily fatigued, and swayed on his feet as if he too would find himself on the cold stones. He stayed on his feet only because his Deputy was instantly by his side, steadying his arm.
"Sit down, Albus," she entreated.
"I'm fine Minerva. I'm just tired." He smiled, though it did not extend to his eyes, and patted the woman's hand reassuringly. "How are Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley?"
"On their way to Poppy."
"What about Harry?" Remus asked.
"He's alive," Snape answered, kneeling beside the boy and checking his vitals.
"I will see to him," the Headmaster answered, closing his eyes again for a moment. When he opened them again, his eyes were on the reposed body of Sirius Black. "Minerva, you and Remus, I trust, will see after Sirius. He deserves much more than this cold floor." Snape cast the Headmaster one last questioning glance, but was turned away by an imperceptive motion of the older man's thin hand.
Lupin, with McGonagall's comforting hand on his shoulder, was carefully lowering his friend's eyelids, giving him the appearance of peace. Watching this, Dumbledore's throat constricted, though he deceived all in his stoicism only by diverting his gaze back to the young boy at his feet. He hadn't the strength to dwell on the death of a beloved, though strong-willed, Order member. Not at the moment. He would have to save his own grief for the safety of his private chambers. There were others who needed his strength more than he did.
Harry Potter.
The Boy Who Lived.
The Boy Who Would Have to Live With So Much Pain.
The Headmaster squeezed his eyes shut yet again. This time, two tears ran down his face before disappearing into the winter forest of his beard. The boy had lived through so much, much more than wizards four times his age. This, the events of this night, would be the hardest for him to bear, for his memories would not be of the victim or the bystander, but of the tormentor and murderer of those he loved.
Dumbledore knelt and scooped the boy into his arms, waving away Snape's proffered help, and carried him toward the stairs. The small crowd of witches and wizards, the remaining staff, many of whom had themselves survived events which would destroy many, moved respectfully out of the way, not for the Headmaster, but for the Headmaster's burden.
Note: This marks the beginning of the end. I estimate 2 more chapters, three at most. I hope nobody feels I rushed this. I wanted to catch you off guard, much as the event catches just about everyone in the story off guard. Once again, me trying to make my audience feel the way the characters do. Did it work??
If you read carefully, in many chapters, I practically told you what would be happening. All those little "philosophy moments" were hinting toward the end. Anybody remember "the fates shall not be denied"? JKR, Goddess of this little world has ordained Sirius will not live. Who am I to argue?
BTW, I hope nobody was looking for a happy ending. Not exactly my forte.