A/n: These people don't belong to me, blah blah. See the bottom for individual thanks and such and such. Sorry this is so short, but I figured that it would be better to post more often and leave you craving for more
Chapter Nineteen
"Harry, please, don't go," whispered Sirius. He would have got down on his hands and knees and begged if he thought it would do any good. But Harry was already on his way to the Potion Lab. Snape had instructed him to wait until nightfall before apparating to Voldemort's side, and Harry was to tell Malfoy the same, if he had been called as well. "Being under the eye of Albus Dumbledore is the only accepted excuse for tardiness, short of death," Snape had said, an eerie smile fleeting across his lips, "so if you can find an extra hour, do so. I'm sure there will be things to be said." As Harry continued down to the dungeons, Sirius at his side, he couldn't help but wonder how, or if, Snape was surviving his mission.
***
"Petunia, this kidney pie is delightful. Mostly a quick fry up for me, what with the new batch of pups to deal with. Of course there's something to be said for supper with Colonel Fubster on the odd night but never mind, a bit more brandy Vernon, yes." Severus Snape could kill that old goat called Mad-Eye Moody. He really could. There was no evidence whatsoever that Voldemort or anything more dangerous than a head cold had it out for the Dursleys. All afternoon, Snape had been dragged across London trying to find clothes in Dudley's "husky" size. He had been tempted to just duck out of sight at the Leaky Cauldron as they passed by and maybe blame it on the confusion of the crowd, but alas, there was no crowd, and Snape could only march on, avoiding his reflection in the shop windows. And now, that he was back on Privet Drive, the conversation had once again steered toward the usual topics: bull dogs, drills, Dudley and, of course, Harry Potter. Snape could tell that Vernon and Petunia Dursley would like nothing more than to forget they had a nephew, but for lack of anything better to say and for authenticity, Snape was forced to bring up Harry every time the lull in conversation began to border tension.
"That boy looked like he could use some fattening up last time I saw him. Still a scrawny thing, I dare say?" Snape asked, repressing a shudder at the thick voice coming from his mouth.
"Yes, he's always been gangly," answered Petunia, pride beaming in her eyes as she looked at Dudley piling a mountainous forkful into his mouth.
"And his hair, so unruly, just like his father's. A reflection of his character I dare say," continued Snape.
"But Marge, you've never seen James Potter," reminded Mr. Dursley, refilling Snape's glass.
"I only assumed, given Petunia's fair hair," Snape retorted, an expert at the quick lie.
"Yes, well, I think that's a safe assumption. There's nothing of Petunia in that boy," growled Vernon.
"Such a pity too," smiled Snape, hoping the sarcasm wouldn't show. It apparently didn't, sarcasm being an alien thing for Marge Dursley. As Snape took another sip of his brandy, he had the strangest sensation on his forearm, a memory of pain. "Well, Harry's on his own now. We'll soon see what he is made of."
"Whatever do you mean, Marge?" Mr. Dursley asked.
"Nothing, Vernon. Now, you were telling me about the new contract at work?"
***
"Malfoy?"
"Yes, sir. I'm in here."
Harry had descended into the dungeons, leaving Sirius and Remus waiting at the stairs.
"Were you called?"
"Yes, I was just going to finish the potions on this list you left for me before I went," Malfoy answered.
"In the future, you may want to remember that the Dark Lord does not look kindly on tardiness, even with an excuse like that. However, we will not be leaving Hogwarts grounds until tonight."
"I thought you said-"
"We can't very well leave with that meddling Dumbledore buzzing about. We wait until nightfall and we apparate. You do know how to apparate, don't you?" Harry himself didn't really know how to apparate, he just realized. He'd have to remember to ask Remus for some pointers.
"Yes, my father taught me last summer," answered Draco, eager to list the other things his father had so graciously taught him. "Will we leave from Hogsmeade?"
"No, it's too far. Too public. The anti-apparation wards around Hogwarts only reach a few feet above the North Tower. We'll take our broomsticks and apparate from there."
With that, Harry left the dungeons and rejoined Sirius and Remus on the stairs. "Harry, please," Sirius continued.
"Sirius, you know this is the only way," Harry sighed.
"But Harry, it isn't the only way," Remus entered. "There are other paths."
"And how do they end?" The three of them jumped at the new voice, whirling around to see Dumbledore standing behind them.
"You probably know better than we do," answered Sirius, for once more bitter about this fact than in awe of it.
"Harry, I'm sure you'd like to see your friends, before you go," Dumbledore continued, choosing not to acknowledge the scowl on Sirius's face.
Harry nodded and headed up to the Gryffindor common room, hoping that Ron and Hermione wouldn't treat this as a last goodbye.
"Oh, Harry!" Hermione howled as she threw her arms up around his neck, for once shorter than him. "Don't go! Make Dumbledore do it!" Ron looked on extremely concerned as he watched Harry genuinely laugh.
"Hermione, I could hardly make Dumbledore do anything," Harry reminded her, casting his eyes around the common room, looking for the twins. And Ginny.
"When do you have to leave?" Ron asked, pulling Hermione's hand into his own so she didn't suffocate Harry before he had the chance to get killed in a much more heroic fashion.
"Not until tonight. Snape said that Voldemort always expects him to be late. So, after a quick lesson on how to apparate, we have the whole evening together. Break out the chess set and Exploding Snaps." Harry tried to give a light-hearted smile, but the fact that in mere hours he would be facing Voldemort once again was tearing up his stomach.
"Don't forget the gobstones," Ron mumbled, obviously just as nauseous.
"Can we come to the lesson?" Hermione asked, unable to stifle her intellectual curiosity. In a way, it was oddly comforting. Harry thought back to the week spent at the Burrow, practicing for the Quidditch match, and how at home he felt then, with Hermione fussing about and muttering "Boys" and Mrs. Weasley worrying over his weight while serving him extra portions at breakfast and Mr. Weasley asking about "radiationers" and the twins blowing things up and Ginny occasionally letting out a small "Eep!" as she peeked out past her bedroom door. That entire time, Harry had felt, no, known that these people were his family. It seemed a lifetime ago now. And he was leaving them all behind.
"I'm going down to Lupin's in a few minutes, if you want to tag along," Harry answered, aware that he had been floating around for quite some time.
Leaving them in the common room, Harry rushed out to the Quidditch pitch, expecting to find the twins there. He was not disappointed. Of course, they had also had little experience with his new form, and Harry momentarily was hurt by the nasty stares they were throwing him.
"No use hiding it any longer, boys," Harry sneered, surprising Fred and George by addressing them so personably. "I know you've always fancied me, might as well get it out in the open." For one glorious moment, Harry thought the twins were going to be sick, but Fred caught and nearly broke Harry's arm in the "good-natured" punch he threw him.
"Harry, that has to be one of the most disturbing things I have ever heard or seen," George grimaced.
"Yeah, I think I need therapy to get that image out of my head," added Fred, still a little green around the edges.
"Sorry, I couldn't resist," smiled Harry, marveling at how easy it was to forget for a moment that he wasn't about to journey into the heart of the Death Eater culture. "I've come to discuss some business with you. And we haven't much time…"
@@@
"The full moon should be here soon," Harry thought as he stood on the observation deck of the astronomy tower, waiting for Draco Malfoy to come. The few hours spent with Ron and Hermione had gone by too quickly, but that's how time works when faced with the worst. The Triwizard Tournament had taught Harry that. Fun rarely lasts and trials drag on for all eternity. Well, maybe things aren't all that bad, he mused when Malfoy ascended the stairs.
"Malfoy, what has happened to your face?" Harry asked, transforming his dire need to laugh into something reasonably close to shock and genuine concern. Draco Malfoy, fair-haired pretty boy, looked more like Eloise Midgen before she accidentally charmed her nose off. In other words, his face was blanketed by acne. Of course, Harry knew what had happened to his face. Fred and George had added a little…spice to his dinner. A simple favor for a friend.
"Here are the brooms," Malfoy hissed, obviously not grateful for being reminded of his new complexion. Harry and Malfoy mounted the brooms and, within seconds, apparated into the night. It didn't feel so much as a tug on the pit of your stomach, like Floo powder and port keys did. It was more like slowly melting, disappearing one molecule at a time, like you are nothing at all, only mostly water. It was the most vivid reminder of the physicality of human life, when most of the time you define yourself by the intangible. And Harry didn't enjoy it one bit. It wasn't that it was uncomfortable. This made Floo-ing seem like walking over hot coals. But the split second when you are in between destinations, you can't help but wonder how you can be nowhere at all, and what that means. Of course, Harry didn't have time to reflect on all of this, or even really think it, for he soon found himself in what looked like a large underground manor. Snape had explained to him that the burn of the Dark Mark left a residual signature of Voldemort, a sort of magical tracing mechanism that meant the next time you apparated, you immediately found yourself wherever Voldemort was hiding. At the time, Harry had asked if that meant people like Karkaroff, who decided to flee when called, could never apparate again. "People like Karkaroff never need to apparate anywhere ever again," was Snape's answer. Looking about him, at the walls adorned with skulls and traces of hex marks, Harry could appreciate that answer.
"This way Malfoy," Harry announced, turning down a corridor on their left. The décor matched with what Snape had referred to as the Welsh House, named for the three freestanding blue stones near the entrances to each main hall. Hermione drilled me all night on the plans to this place, Harry reminisced, before stopping himself with a hard blink. He needed to keep his mind, as well as everything else, in character with a Death Eater if he wanted to make it out of here alive. Coming up to a set of double doors and faltering for a moment as he tried to remember if there was a secret knock or some type of protocol when addressing the Dark Lord, he entered into an elaborate cell, lined with more Death Eaters than Harry knew existed.
"Ah, Severus, Draco, I'm glad you've finally graced us with your presence," greeted a cold, shrill voice. Turning his attention to the throne in the center of the room, Harry was met with the crimson stare of Lord Voldemort.
Mwa ha ha, another cliffhanger for all you lovely people out there. Maybe you'll review and yell at me again, and that'll be worth it. I decided to thank a few people who've reviewed, and if you aren't mentioned, just review again and I'll give you a shout-out next time around :P
Sova: thanks for the criticism, I figured everyone here knew the principles of Polyjuice so I didn't bother writing "and then he took another sip…and then he took another sip" And about Harry being vulnerable, I still think he is, even with all of his new powers. There are other ways to be hurt than just physically and with all of this going on around him, I doubt there will be a shortage of pain.
Kat: good luck on your story and thanks for reading mine
Sweets: I need 20 reviews per chapter or I'll unleash hell!
Lily Grul: thanks bunches
Elsebeth Fishnips: I liked your profile so much I think I'll have to give your stories a try
Jan Girl: geeze, talk about pressure
Kelzery: there, my email's up, just for you
Nagh and everyone else: XOXO