Chapter 13
Midnight. September second. Holly tapped her wristwatch and grumbled. Oh, the watch was lovely. Sirius had given it to her as a belated birthday present, explaining that her old digital watch wouldn't work at Hogwarts. Too much magic in the air apparently caused Muggle electronics to go haywire. No, she was grumbling because the evening had come and passed, and not only had she not met Harry, she didn't even know when she would be meeting him at all.
The sleek face of the watch caught a brief flash of lightning, one of many such flashes, and Holly gazed back out at the storm. The light showers of the evening had broken into a torrential downpour, complete with wind gusts and thunder. The storm buffeted trees along the edge of the Dark Forest and kicked up waves on the surface of the lake. Had she not promised Dumbledore that she wouldn't leave the castle, she would be outside right then, letting the cold rain drown out her frustration.
She clenched her fists and slammed her left hand down onto the windowsill. The motion disturbed Seymore, who was twined around her right wrist, apparently sleeping.
The serpent raised her head. [What's wrong?]
Seymore hadn't spoken to Holly since that first morning at Lupin's house. This time, however, Holly was only briefly surprised by the unexpected conversation. "Just frustrated I suppose."
[Why?] The question was so innocent.
Holly glanced back over her shoulder at the empty room. There was nobody else to whom she could speak. Sirius had left her to her privacy hours ago when her agitation had put socializing very low on her list of priorities. Dumbledore had been pleasant enough when he'd spoken to her after the feast, but the dialogue had been brief and rushed. It was the first day of school. He had other responsibilities aside from answering a young woman's questions. When could she see Harry? Soon, possibly tomorrow, but not tonight. Sirius had tried to talk to her after that, but she hadn't felt like talking. Now, she wished she hadn't been so hasty when she'd asked him to leave.
"I want to see my cousin, but they won't let me," she finally answered the waiting snake.
[Why not?]
"I don't really know." She turned her back to the rain pelting against the window and began pacing through her small but comfortable private suite. Illuminated by soft candlelight, a setting such as this would normally have put her at ease, a comfortable retreat from the rest of the world. As it was, she hardly noticed. "Dumbledore said that Harry and I have some sort of bond. I'm sure he's right about that, but he almost acts as though he's afraid of it. I don't understand why."
[Will you tell me about it?]
Holly hid her chagrin. She was confiding her biggest worry in a snake. Well, what did she have to loose? "Dumbledore said the closer Harry and I get, in terms of distance, the stronger the bond would become."
[Is that such a bad thing?]
Holly frowned. "I wouldn't think so. I mean, think about it this way. I've never had much of a family, and I prefer to keep only a few select friends. I guess I prefer it that way. Too many people would drive me mad, but still . . ."
[I understand. Go on.]
She sat down on the edge of her bed with a deep sigh. "When you are so particular about the people you choose for company, each family member or friend is a vital part of your world. Imagine how it would feel to suddenly find that you have a cousin you never knew about?"
Seymore turned her glittering eyes towards Holly. [I'd suppose it would feel pretty good.]
"And then you find out that he looks a bit like you. People keep remarking about the striking similarities in the way you react to things, how you look, and how impressive the comparison is."
[Even more intriguing.]
"Yup. And then, you find that you have some sort of strange magical bond that ties you together. After years of living fairly alone, can you imagine how that must feel?"
[No. But I'll guess it must be incredible.]
"Right," she nodded. "And then . . . try being told that you're not allowed to meet him. Not yet."
Seymore coiled more tightly around Holly's wrist, as though trying to give her a serpentine version of a hug. [That would probably be pretty awful. Why are they doing that?]
"That's the part I still don't think I understand." She leaned forward and rubbed her temples with her left hand. "I feel like I'm thinking in circles. Okay. Dumbledore said that if the bond between Harry and me were to reach its full potential, Voldemort might become aware of it. Apparently, he has some sort of bond to Harry as well."
[Who is Voldemort? I feel as though I should know that name.]
"Evil wizard. Likes to kill people. Hell-bent on world domination. Not the most pleasant chap."
[I guess not.]
Holly blew her breath out slowly through pursed lips. "Some of the blighters who work for him are apparently responsible for burning down my house." She intentionally didn't mention her father. "Another few tried their hand at me. And then, fourteen years ago. . ." she paused and swallowed.
[Yes?]
"He tried to kill Harry. Voldemort himself, that is. He managed to kill Harry's parents and my mum, but he didn't manage to kill Harry. He thinks Harry has this ridiculous power that he wants. They call it the 'Mind Touch.' It even sounds odd. Anyway, Voldemort will stop at nothing to kill Harry, not only for this power but also out of some insane vendetta. Problem is, I'm the one who apparently has the Mind Touch." She growled to herself, "Not that I want it. It's doing a fine job of making life difficult."
[And if Voldemort becomes aware of this bond, he might become aware of the both of you. What exactly does this bond do?]
Holly stared across the room at a candle on the mantle and squinted at it, concentrating. "So far, I've been able to sense Harry. It seems like that's all." She took a deep breath. "But then, maybe not. Maybe I'm picking up bits of his power too."
[That's curious. Can you give me an example?]
"Well, I could never talk to you before. This is going to sound ridiculous, but perhaps Harry can talk to snakes. Now that I'm in the same building as him, maybe I'm picking up that ability." She looked down at Seymore. "No, that's ludicrous."
[Maybe, but maybe not.]
Holly shrugged. "So, what would that have to do with it? With why I can't see Harry?"
Seymore seemed to be considering this, swinging her head back and forth slowly. After a moment's pause, she answered. [If by some chance you are indeed beginning to share some of Harry's abilities through this bond, that means Harry might also be sharing this power of yours that Voldemort wants. If Voldemort has some sort of bond with Harry . . . and they suspect that Voldemort may become aware of the bond between you and Harry . . . what would happen if the power of the Mind Touch were to bleed over to Voldemort?]
Something cold and hard seemed to grab Holly's heart in her chest, knocking the wind out of her. She sat there, stunned, trying not to choke on her thoughts. If Seymore was right, it was no wonder Dumbledore didn't want to bring the two of them together. It didn't make her feel any better that she hadn't gotten to see Harry, but it made sense. There was a reason. Problem was, that reason terrified her.
Holly squinted at Seymore warily. "You're just too bloody smart, you know that?"
Seymore bobbed her head. [Thanks, I think.]
"Don't mention it. In fact, don't mention any of this."
[What do you mean?]
Holly shook her head, which was now spinning madly. She needed to think this out on her own, not explain the potential implications of this new revelation to a snake. "I'm going for a walk." She held out her right hand to the surface of the bed. "Alone."
Seymore slowly, begrudgingly, untwined herself from Holly's wrist and coiled up on the mattress. [Certainly. Just do be careful.]
Holly pulled her cloak from a hook by the door. "Yes mum," she said, sarcastically. "I'm only going for a stroll around the castle to think. What could possibly happen?"
Seymore swung her head back and forth, chiding her.
"Oh stop that. You're acting like Bram. Wonder where that crazy bird is. Well, I'll see you later." She wrapped her cloak tightly around her shoulders and let herself out into the hallway, closing the door behind her with a soft click.
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"Harry? Are you going to bed anytime tonight?"
"Yes, Ron," had come the exasperated reply. Harry left his spot at the window and rolled into his four-poster bed, drawing the curtains tightly around him.
That had been several hours ago. Since then, he had tossed and turned, punched his pillow, and even tried reading a chapter of his History of Magic text. Nothing was bringing him any closer to sleep. It wasn't normal for him to be restless like this, but hell, he was jumpy tonight. For some unknown reason, he had been expecting something unusual to happen that evening, but regardless of expectations, it hadn't come.
He could hear the thunder continue to crash outside, see the flashes of lightning through the breaks in the curtains. If anything, the rain was only pounding harder on the window than it had before, trying desperately to get in. Harry, for one, would have loved to get outside instead.
The evening had been perfectly normal, as far as the first day of school was ever normal. No Triwizard Tournaments. No escaped convicts threatening the wizard world. No freakishly bizarre Defense Against the Dark Arts professors. Best yet, no scar burnings or signs of evil wizards lurking . . . well, Malfoy excluded. Harry should be pleased with the sheer lack of eventfulness, but no, he was Harry Potter. Something was supposed to go wrong. That's just he way it was, correct? Something absolutely insane had to kick off the school year. It was tradition at this point. It was almost eerie that nothing had happened.
Now, instead of enjoying the relative quiet of the moment, he was practically waiting for something to happen, counting the eventless seconds between lightning strikes, lying flat on his back, eyes wide opened in the darkness. He blinked. The hell if he was going to wait lying down.
Harry tossed his blanket aside and whipped back his curtains. His hand scrambled frantically across his night stand for his glasses and he jammed them onto his face. A quick check around the room confirmed that Ron, Dean, and Seamus were all dead asleep, and Neville was snoring. Feeling a thrill of excitement, he grabbed his jumper and pulled it roughly over his head. As quietly as humanly possible, he slipped out of bed and flipped open the cover of his trunk.
He felt as though something had been calling to him all evening, egging at him, and he had just recognized the call. Where it came from, it didn't matter. The tension that had kept him awake all evening seemed to be relieved by the sudden burst of action, and he wasn't about to bottle it up now. His hands finally found the silky smooth edges of his invisibility cloak and, heart pounding, he gently drew it out from underneath the more mundane contents of his trunk.
Harry whirled the cloak over his head and settled it smoothly into place. With one last glance around the room, he let himself out into the stairway.
The common room was deserted at that hour of the night. The fireplace held nothing but embers and the candles were burning low in their holders. Harry tiptoed across the floor, trembling with unplaced anticipation, completely wrapped in his own thoughts, when a scolding "meow" almost caused him to jump out of his skin.
"Crookshanks!" he hissed. "Go away!"
The cat did nothing of the sort. Instead, he marched directly between Harry and the portrait of the Fat Lady and sat down, his eyes glowing eerily in the dark room. What was it with cats who seemed to be able to see through invisibility cloaks? Mrs. Norris, and now Crookshanks. At least Hermione's cat wasn't about to go ratting him out to Filch, but it was still bloody annoying.
"Crookshanks, I am not in the mood for this. Get out of my way!"
The cat's tail swished once, but he didn't move.
"I'm not causing any trouble, I'm just going for a walk."
Crookshanks lay down in place, still staring at him.
"Ridiculous cat," he mumbled to himself.
Sidestepping the nosey feline, Harry climbed to the portrait hole and cautiously pushed the frame away from the wall. He poked his head out. Not a sign of Filch, Mrs. Norris, or even Peeves. Harry breathed a sigh of relief, eased himself out of the hole, and settled the portrait back into place.
He was just about to step off when it struck him that he had no clue where he was going. Up until that point, everything had made perfect sense. Of course he was going for a walk. He had to go somewhere, and now was the time to go. At least, that was the nebulous thought that had pulled him so definitively out of his bed, past Crookshanks, and into the hallway. He had never stopped to ask himself where that somewhere was. The strange pull was as strong as it had been upstairs, if not stronger.
No more questions; now was the time for action. Harry took a step away from the portrait. Then another. It felt right. Even if this was leading him to some sort of disaster, he couldn't have turned around if he'd wanted to, and he didn't want to. Almost breathless with an unnamed excitement, he padded down the corridor as fast as he could without alerting the entire population of Hogwarts. Something was about to burst wide open. He could feel it.
He crept through the corridor, down the main staircase, and past the entrance of the great hall. Every few steps, Harry saw his world illuminated by yet another brilliant flash of lightning assaulting the windows. There didn't seem to be a sign of Filch or his stupid cat anywhere, and it didn't cross Harry's mind that there was any chance it could happen. Nothing seemed able to distract his mind from the incessant pull guiding him along. The further he went, the more he was certain he was on the right track. Right track to what? It didn't matter. Whatever it might be, he could have sworn by one thing. There would be an answer.
That's it. It would be an answer to unasked questions. A confirmation that he wasn't losing his mind. Some reassurance that reality still existed. An answer to dreams and nightmares alike.
As he walked, Harry became less and less aware that he was traveling at all. His feet carried him of their own accord as a confusing myriad of thoughts occupied more and more of his mind. The boundary between dreams and reality seemed to blur. He was back in his dream, standing before the Mirror of Erised. The disturbing images of birds and Hogwarts and Voldemort's eyes were nowhere to be seen. Through the smooth surface of the mirror there appeared the vague outline of a shadow. There was his answer, and it was growing clearer by the moment. He could almost make out the words on the frame.
//Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafre oyt on wohsi.//
Holly reached up and traced the strange writing on the frame with a curious finger. By the dim illumination of the room and the frequent lightning strikes, she could read the whole thing. The lettering was in reverse, but there wasn't a shred of doubt in her mind that this was the mirror that had graced her dreams. It made sense. In her dream, she'd had the distinct impression that she had been on the inside of the mirror. Why would the writing on a mirror be written so that one could only read it from inside the mirror? That didn't matter right now. This mirror, this place . . . this is where she had seen Harry.
Her worries and realizations about the dangers of the bond with her cousin were forgotten. There was only the here and now; this strange blending of dream and reality. She couldn't fully convince herself it was real, that she wasn't dreaming again, but the rough lettering on the frame felt solid under her fingertip, and she certainly hadn't been able to fall asleep that night. Holly took a deep breath and stepped backwards, centering herself on the mirror. Her reflection was the same as always; messy hair, rumpled clothes, and glasses, but behind her likeness, something much more extraordinary was happening. The room's shadows hazed and blurred, swirling like a mist from behind the corners of the frame. It wasn't real, she told herself, but at the same time, it was more real than anything else had ever been.
From the deepest part of the mist, Holly could see a shadow beginning to form. Her own image dissipated. Her eyes, and every shred of her attention, were completely focused on the shadow. The formless outline began to solidify, becoming the image that had been burned into her memory ever since she had seen it in her dream.
Without realizing the action until she was already halfway through it, Holly found herself stepping towards the mirror, hand outstretched. Behind the surface of the glass, another hand moved to meet hers . . .
And she stopped. There was someone in the room, watching her. Her heart thundering in her chest, she turned, slowly. The room was empty.
No, it wasn't. She was sure of it. She knew who was there. Somehow, she managed to force one word out of her rapidly tightening throat.
"Harry?"
Nothing happened. Then, out of empty space, she heard the sound of a strangled gasp. No more than five feet in front of her, the air itself seemed to wrinkle, then flow into something solid. The silhouette of a silvery cloak flashed to life as another lightning strike lit the room. The cloak dropped away, and a familiar pair of eyes stared back into hers.
His voice was choked and hesitant. "You're . . . you're Holly."
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Albus Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, rubbed his temples, and yawned widely. Every minute he could spare away from his usual Headmaster duties had been devoted to myriad of tasks relating to the events of the summer. There were letters from anxious parents wanting assurance that if anything were to happen, their children would be sent home immediately. More disturbing were the "official" documents from Malfoy's sect of the new ministry, dictating a series of new "highly recommended" regulations. However, possibly the most strenuous task involved the stacks of books and parchments spread across his desk. There were old texts and memoirs, letters and records, all serving in a fruitless search for clues regarding the current location of one seemingly insignificant artifact.
Remus and Sirius had been able to help him earlier, but the day had been as long for them as for him. Both of them had finally fallen asleep over their parchments, and Dumbledore had awoken them softly only to urge them off to bed. They would be needing all the sleep they could get. Dealing with Malfoy on one end would be tricky enough, but an equally tricky, albeit less malevolent, was sitting much closer to home.
Hogwarts was indeed the best protected location in Britain, possibly the world, with many layers of magical shielding. If there was any place where Harry and Holly could safely meet, this was it. Here, they stood a chance of remaining protected from Voldemort. Dumbledore was well aware that the more he were to indicate to either of them that they were being intentionally protected, the more they would protest.
Not that he could blame them, but tomorrow, when he planned to introduce them, he would be able to explain the whole thing. He would be able to press on them the grave possibility that the Voldemort could indeed glean the Mind Touch through his bond with Harry. Most importantly, he would also be able to keep an eye on them for any sign of magical shock.
Dumbledore had no idea exactly how strong this bond would prove to be when it became fully manifested, but he wasn't going to take any chances. Harry was already a very strong wizard, and according to Remus, Holly had a fair deal of potential herself, once she trained up a bit. The kind of magical surge that could possibly occur when they met was mind-boggling, and it had a good chance of overwhelming them completely. It was probably best that they each had a good night's sleep and be allowed to settle in before springing this on them.
Leaning heavily on his elbows, Dumbledore took a deep breath and listened to the persistent tapping of the rain on the window, letting the moment's peace soothe his mind. Funny thing though, the tapping of the rain almost sounded solid against the glass, as if someone were knocking.
Dumbledore glanced at the window. At first, he saw nothing aside from the blackness of the storm... until a sudden flash of lightning silhouetted a dark blob on the sill. In fact, the blob was shaped distinctly like a bird.
Jumping out of his seat, and almost knocking the chair over in the process, Dumbledore rushed to the window and opened it as quickly as he could. Bram burst in the room in a flurry of waterlogged feathers, splashing Dumbledore and everything else within ten feet. She barely made it to the edge of the desk under the weight of the extra water and landed heavily, creating a rapidly spreading puddle across the parchments, as she began to clack anxiously.
"Easy there, my feathered friend," Dumbledore greeted the raven with a tired smile. He waved his wand casually at his desk, drying both the bird and the parchments. "What is it you're trying to tell me?"
Bram ruffled her feathers briefly, pleasantly surprised at no longer being soaked, then began to clack more clearly and systematically. Fawkes, in the meantime, jumped off his perch and landed on the desk next to the nervous raven. Bobbing her head and hopping in agitation, Bram relayed her message to Dumbledore. The Headmaster nodded slowly as she clacked, taking in the information, when suddenly, his face fell. He looked up at the ceiling and took a brief, steadying breath. "Great Merlin's Beard," he whispered.
In the next instant, the tired wizard became a whirlwind. "My goodness, thank you, Bram," he blurted. He reached into a small cup on the mantle and threw just a bit too much powder into the fire before calling out, "Remus! Sirius! Meet me in front of the Great Hall, and hurry!"
He turned sharply back towards Bram. "Please, I invite you to stay in my office, out of this miserable weather. I will be back soon, I hope."
Bram merely bobbed her head, accepting the invitation as she watched Dumbledore pull open the door to his office and ran down the stairs. Fawkes moved a bit closer to Bram and placed his neck comfortingly over the top of her head. Still watching the door, Bram sidestepped in towards the phoenix, accepting the offered reassurance. For a bird, this was far too much stress.
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Somewhere in his brain, Harry vaguely registered the fact that the image before him was not an illusion, nor a trick of the shadows, nor some bizarre dream. He had most certainly not fallen asleep that night, and was not lying in his four-poster bed, caught in some delirium-induced vision. Had he been less distracted, he might have briefly wondered how on earth he had arrived at the one room in Hogwarts where he might find this young woman. Possibly, he would have questioned the reason the Mirror of Erised was at the school. He might have even reminded himself to breathe. As it was, all he could think to do was to stutter, "You're real . . ."
Holly's mouth opened slightly, searching for a response. After weeks of having her mind fixed on one thing and one thing only, she hadn't even considered what she was going to say to her young cousin. Nodding, she asked, "Nobody told you?"
"I . . . I saw you. In a dream, that is. I asked, but Mr. Weasley didn't want to tell me anything." He sounded ridiculous, and wondered if what he was saying was making sense to Holly.
Her eyes widened. "You know Mr. Weasley?"
"He's my best friend's dad." Harry tipped his head to the side, trying to ignore the fact that none of this felt quite real. "Wait. How do you know him?"
"Er . . . Ministry attack." She hesitated. "I got caught in it."
Harry's eyebrows knitted together. "You were there?"
"I barely got out alive."
"You were caught in the fire," Harry whispered in a detached tone of voice. His face was illuminated by yet another flash of lightning. "The smoke. I smelled the smoke."
"How did you . . . ?" she started, before the answer hit her on its own. "You felt it. It's as though you were connected to me."
"It's the Mind Touch, isn't it?" A little light was starting to burn in the back of his mind. "That was you."
"They told you that much, but they didn't tell you about me." She could feel something beginning to buzz in her head. "But you knew. And you knew my name."
He took a cautious step towards Holly, as though any sudden movements would cause this fantastic vision to burst. "I heard it, in my mind, from Mr. Weasley, I think. He must have been . . ."
". . . thinking about me," she finished for him, taking a step closer for herself. "And you were already curious, because you had already had seen me in a dream . . ."
". . . with the Mirror of Erised." The strange burning in the back of his mind was growing stronger, but he didn't shy away from it. He didn't want to. "I saw you, in the Mirror. I thought it was me at first, but . . ."
". . . it wasn't." The buzzing turned into a tingling sensation racing up and down her spine. "I saw you too. I think we were sharing the dream, but looking at each other, from opposite sides of the mirror."
Neither of them quite being aware of the action, they had almost closed the gap between them.
Harry blinked a couple of times. "You were watching me at the Sorting Ceremony. You've been trying to reach me all this time, haven't you?"
"Yes," she answered, beginning to choke up. "Even in the dream, it was like you were really there. It almost felt like I could reach through the mirror and touch you. I still can't convince myself this is real."
"It feels like that dream. I think I saw you reach for the mirror, from the other side." He stopped short, his faced pinched. Slowly, he lifted his hand and held it, palm facing forward towards Holly.
Common sense meant nothing now. The realizations Holly had made while talking to Seymore flew out the window and were washed away by the torrential downpour. Images from the dream and her own curiosity had taken over. Her hand came up inches away from Harry's. Between their palms, a strange sort of heat was building, not burning or unpleasant, but instead creating a strange sort of pull.
Peripheral vision disappeared. The room disappeared. All that remained was a swirling mist and the two people stuck in the center of the hazy vortex, locked eye to eye, as though trying to find something in each other something unnamed that they'd been searching for in themselves. The heat became tangible, spreading up their arms, glowing vaguely, and the air around them began to hum. From somewhere beyond the mist, they almost heard the sound of thundering footsteps, and men's voices yelling, but the sounds didn't reach past their ears.
Their hands came together, and a sound like a canon went off in their minds. Everything finally disappeared in a wall of blinding whiteness. Through the wall, Harry thought he heard Holly yelling, or was it himself? Holly found herself dropping to the floor, or was she watching Harry fall? The line between them had blurred, as had the line between awareness and oblivion.
The stone floor should have been hard, but it had become blanketed with the blazing whiteness. Hands shook them, and frantic voices called out, but those weren't real. What was real and immediate was impact of this turbulent envelopment, in which the brilliant whiteness was slowly fading to grey. The shadows of the room crept in on the two small forms lying on the floor, shrouding them and finally encasing them in darkness.
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A/N: There you have it. You all wanted to know why they were being kept apart. There's your answer. Trust in Phoenix. Everything shall be explained in time.
For those of you who are reading my new story, thank you for the support and for understanding the delay with the current TPL chapter. For those of you not reading the new story, but who are curious, feel free to access it through my ff.net profile. It's called "Eclipse," and I'll warn you right now, it's slash, but it is NOT smut, will NOT be explicit and exposing, and involves nothing that would even remotely resemble NC-17. The only reason I had considered rating it "R" was due to some violence and a bit of swearing, but in reality, it's only PG-13.
That fic was the reason for the major delay with this one. I thank you for your patience, for the feedback you've given me, and everything else. Chapter 14 should be coming soon. As always, I appreciate all reviews, and if you have any sort of question regarding this story or others, leave me your e-mail address, and I WILL get back to you immediately.
Midnight. September second. Holly tapped her wristwatch and grumbled. Oh, the watch was lovely. Sirius had given it to her as a belated birthday present, explaining that her old digital watch wouldn't work at Hogwarts. Too much magic in the air apparently caused Muggle electronics to go haywire. No, she was grumbling because the evening had come and passed, and not only had she not met Harry, she didn't even know when she would be meeting him at all.
The sleek face of the watch caught a brief flash of lightning, one of many such flashes, and Holly gazed back out at the storm. The light showers of the evening had broken into a torrential downpour, complete with wind gusts and thunder. The storm buffeted trees along the edge of the Dark Forest and kicked up waves on the surface of the lake. Had she not promised Dumbledore that she wouldn't leave the castle, she would be outside right then, letting the cold rain drown out her frustration.
She clenched her fists and slammed her left hand down onto the windowsill. The motion disturbed Seymore, who was twined around her right wrist, apparently sleeping.
The serpent raised her head. [What's wrong?]
Seymore hadn't spoken to Holly since that first morning at Lupin's house. This time, however, Holly was only briefly surprised by the unexpected conversation. "Just frustrated I suppose."
[Why?] The question was so innocent.
Holly glanced back over her shoulder at the empty room. There was nobody else to whom she could speak. Sirius had left her to her privacy hours ago when her agitation had put socializing very low on her list of priorities. Dumbledore had been pleasant enough when he'd spoken to her after the feast, but the dialogue had been brief and rushed. It was the first day of school. He had other responsibilities aside from answering a young woman's questions. When could she see Harry? Soon, possibly tomorrow, but not tonight. Sirius had tried to talk to her after that, but she hadn't felt like talking. Now, she wished she hadn't been so hasty when she'd asked him to leave.
"I want to see my cousin, but they won't let me," she finally answered the waiting snake.
[Why not?]
"I don't really know." She turned her back to the rain pelting against the window and began pacing through her small but comfortable private suite. Illuminated by soft candlelight, a setting such as this would normally have put her at ease, a comfortable retreat from the rest of the world. As it was, she hardly noticed. "Dumbledore said that Harry and I have some sort of bond. I'm sure he's right about that, but he almost acts as though he's afraid of it. I don't understand why."
[Will you tell me about it?]
Holly hid her chagrin. She was confiding her biggest worry in a snake. Well, what did she have to loose? "Dumbledore said the closer Harry and I get, in terms of distance, the stronger the bond would become."
[Is that such a bad thing?]
Holly frowned. "I wouldn't think so. I mean, think about it this way. I've never had much of a family, and I prefer to keep only a few select friends. I guess I prefer it that way. Too many people would drive me mad, but still . . ."
[I understand. Go on.]
She sat down on the edge of her bed with a deep sigh. "When you are so particular about the people you choose for company, each family member or friend is a vital part of your world. Imagine how it would feel to suddenly find that you have a cousin you never knew about?"
Seymore turned her glittering eyes towards Holly. [I'd suppose it would feel pretty good.]
"And then you find out that he looks a bit like you. People keep remarking about the striking similarities in the way you react to things, how you look, and how impressive the comparison is."
[Even more intriguing.]
"Yup. And then, you find that you have some sort of strange magical bond that ties you together. After years of living fairly alone, can you imagine how that must feel?"
[No. But I'll guess it must be incredible.]
"Right," she nodded. "And then . . . try being told that you're not allowed to meet him. Not yet."
Seymore coiled more tightly around Holly's wrist, as though trying to give her a serpentine version of a hug. [That would probably be pretty awful. Why are they doing that?]
"That's the part I still don't think I understand." She leaned forward and rubbed her temples with her left hand. "I feel like I'm thinking in circles. Okay. Dumbledore said that if the bond between Harry and me were to reach its full potential, Voldemort might become aware of it. Apparently, he has some sort of bond to Harry as well."
[Who is Voldemort? I feel as though I should know that name.]
"Evil wizard. Likes to kill people. Hell-bent on world domination. Not the most pleasant chap."
[I guess not.]
Holly blew her breath out slowly through pursed lips. "Some of the blighters who work for him are apparently responsible for burning down my house." She intentionally didn't mention her father. "Another few tried their hand at me. And then, fourteen years ago. . ." she paused and swallowed.
[Yes?]
"He tried to kill Harry. Voldemort himself, that is. He managed to kill Harry's parents and my mum, but he didn't manage to kill Harry. He thinks Harry has this ridiculous power that he wants. They call it the 'Mind Touch.' It even sounds odd. Anyway, Voldemort will stop at nothing to kill Harry, not only for this power but also out of some insane vendetta. Problem is, I'm the one who apparently has the Mind Touch." She growled to herself, "Not that I want it. It's doing a fine job of making life difficult."
[And if Voldemort becomes aware of this bond, he might become aware of the both of you. What exactly does this bond do?]
Holly stared across the room at a candle on the mantle and squinted at it, concentrating. "So far, I've been able to sense Harry. It seems like that's all." She took a deep breath. "But then, maybe not. Maybe I'm picking up bits of his power too."
[That's curious. Can you give me an example?]
"Well, I could never talk to you before. This is going to sound ridiculous, but perhaps Harry can talk to snakes. Now that I'm in the same building as him, maybe I'm picking up that ability." She looked down at Seymore. "No, that's ludicrous."
[Maybe, but maybe not.]
Holly shrugged. "So, what would that have to do with it? With why I can't see Harry?"
Seymore seemed to be considering this, swinging her head back and forth slowly. After a moment's pause, she answered. [If by some chance you are indeed beginning to share some of Harry's abilities through this bond, that means Harry might also be sharing this power of yours that Voldemort wants. If Voldemort has some sort of bond with Harry . . . and they suspect that Voldemort may become aware of the bond between you and Harry . . . what would happen if the power of the Mind Touch were to bleed over to Voldemort?]
Something cold and hard seemed to grab Holly's heart in her chest, knocking the wind out of her. She sat there, stunned, trying not to choke on her thoughts. If Seymore was right, it was no wonder Dumbledore didn't want to bring the two of them together. It didn't make her feel any better that she hadn't gotten to see Harry, but it made sense. There was a reason. Problem was, that reason terrified her.
Holly squinted at Seymore warily. "You're just too bloody smart, you know that?"
Seymore bobbed her head. [Thanks, I think.]
"Don't mention it. In fact, don't mention any of this."
[What do you mean?]
Holly shook her head, which was now spinning madly. She needed to think this out on her own, not explain the potential implications of this new revelation to a snake. "I'm going for a walk." She held out her right hand to the surface of the bed. "Alone."
Seymore slowly, begrudgingly, untwined herself from Holly's wrist and coiled up on the mattress. [Certainly. Just do be careful.]
Holly pulled her cloak from a hook by the door. "Yes mum," she said, sarcastically. "I'm only going for a stroll around the castle to think. What could possibly happen?"
Seymore swung her head back and forth, chiding her.
"Oh stop that. You're acting like Bram. Wonder where that crazy bird is. Well, I'll see you later." She wrapped her cloak tightly around her shoulders and let herself out into the hallway, closing the door behind her with a soft click.
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"Harry? Are you going to bed anytime tonight?"
"Yes, Ron," had come the exasperated reply. Harry left his spot at the window and rolled into his four-poster bed, drawing the curtains tightly around him.
That had been several hours ago. Since then, he had tossed and turned, punched his pillow, and even tried reading a chapter of his History of Magic text. Nothing was bringing him any closer to sleep. It wasn't normal for him to be restless like this, but hell, he was jumpy tonight. For some unknown reason, he had been expecting something unusual to happen that evening, but regardless of expectations, it hadn't come.
He could hear the thunder continue to crash outside, see the flashes of lightning through the breaks in the curtains. If anything, the rain was only pounding harder on the window than it had before, trying desperately to get in. Harry, for one, would have loved to get outside instead.
The evening had been perfectly normal, as far as the first day of school was ever normal. No Triwizard Tournaments. No escaped convicts threatening the wizard world. No freakishly bizarre Defense Against the Dark Arts professors. Best yet, no scar burnings or signs of evil wizards lurking . . . well, Malfoy excluded. Harry should be pleased with the sheer lack of eventfulness, but no, he was Harry Potter. Something was supposed to go wrong. That's just he way it was, correct? Something absolutely insane had to kick off the school year. It was tradition at this point. It was almost eerie that nothing had happened.
Now, instead of enjoying the relative quiet of the moment, he was practically waiting for something to happen, counting the eventless seconds between lightning strikes, lying flat on his back, eyes wide opened in the darkness. He blinked. The hell if he was going to wait lying down.
Harry tossed his blanket aside and whipped back his curtains. His hand scrambled frantically across his night stand for his glasses and he jammed them onto his face. A quick check around the room confirmed that Ron, Dean, and Seamus were all dead asleep, and Neville was snoring. Feeling a thrill of excitement, he grabbed his jumper and pulled it roughly over his head. As quietly as humanly possible, he slipped out of bed and flipped open the cover of his trunk.
He felt as though something had been calling to him all evening, egging at him, and he had just recognized the call. Where it came from, it didn't matter. The tension that had kept him awake all evening seemed to be relieved by the sudden burst of action, and he wasn't about to bottle it up now. His hands finally found the silky smooth edges of his invisibility cloak and, heart pounding, he gently drew it out from underneath the more mundane contents of his trunk.
Harry whirled the cloak over his head and settled it smoothly into place. With one last glance around the room, he let himself out into the stairway.
The common room was deserted at that hour of the night. The fireplace held nothing but embers and the candles were burning low in their holders. Harry tiptoed across the floor, trembling with unplaced anticipation, completely wrapped in his own thoughts, when a scolding "meow" almost caused him to jump out of his skin.
"Crookshanks!" he hissed. "Go away!"
The cat did nothing of the sort. Instead, he marched directly between Harry and the portrait of the Fat Lady and sat down, his eyes glowing eerily in the dark room. What was it with cats who seemed to be able to see through invisibility cloaks? Mrs. Norris, and now Crookshanks. At least Hermione's cat wasn't about to go ratting him out to Filch, but it was still bloody annoying.
"Crookshanks, I am not in the mood for this. Get out of my way!"
The cat's tail swished once, but he didn't move.
"I'm not causing any trouble, I'm just going for a walk."
Crookshanks lay down in place, still staring at him.
"Ridiculous cat," he mumbled to himself.
Sidestepping the nosey feline, Harry climbed to the portrait hole and cautiously pushed the frame away from the wall. He poked his head out. Not a sign of Filch, Mrs. Norris, or even Peeves. Harry breathed a sigh of relief, eased himself out of the hole, and settled the portrait back into place.
He was just about to step off when it struck him that he had no clue where he was going. Up until that point, everything had made perfect sense. Of course he was going for a walk. He had to go somewhere, and now was the time to go. At least, that was the nebulous thought that had pulled him so definitively out of his bed, past Crookshanks, and into the hallway. He had never stopped to ask himself where that somewhere was. The strange pull was as strong as it had been upstairs, if not stronger.
No more questions; now was the time for action. Harry took a step away from the portrait. Then another. It felt right. Even if this was leading him to some sort of disaster, he couldn't have turned around if he'd wanted to, and he didn't want to. Almost breathless with an unnamed excitement, he padded down the corridor as fast as he could without alerting the entire population of Hogwarts. Something was about to burst wide open. He could feel it.
He crept through the corridor, down the main staircase, and past the entrance of the great hall. Every few steps, Harry saw his world illuminated by yet another brilliant flash of lightning assaulting the windows. There didn't seem to be a sign of Filch or his stupid cat anywhere, and it didn't cross Harry's mind that there was any chance it could happen. Nothing seemed able to distract his mind from the incessant pull guiding him along. The further he went, the more he was certain he was on the right track. Right track to what? It didn't matter. Whatever it might be, he could have sworn by one thing. There would be an answer.
That's it. It would be an answer to unasked questions. A confirmation that he wasn't losing his mind. Some reassurance that reality still existed. An answer to dreams and nightmares alike.
As he walked, Harry became less and less aware that he was traveling at all. His feet carried him of their own accord as a confusing myriad of thoughts occupied more and more of his mind. The boundary between dreams and reality seemed to blur. He was back in his dream, standing before the Mirror of Erised. The disturbing images of birds and Hogwarts and Voldemort's eyes were nowhere to be seen. Through the smooth surface of the mirror there appeared the vague outline of a shadow. There was his answer, and it was growing clearer by the moment. He could almost make out the words on the frame.
//Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafre oyt on wohsi.//
Holly reached up and traced the strange writing on the frame with a curious finger. By the dim illumination of the room and the frequent lightning strikes, she could read the whole thing. The lettering was in reverse, but there wasn't a shred of doubt in her mind that this was the mirror that had graced her dreams. It made sense. In her dream, she'd had the distinct impression that she had been on the inside of the mirror. Why would the writing on a mirror be written so that one could only read it from inside the mirror? That didn't matter right now. This mirror, this place . . . this is where she had seen Harry.
Her worries and realizations about the dangers of the bond with her cousin were forgotten. There was only the here and now; this strange blending of dream and reality. She couldn't fully convince herself it was real, that she wasn't dreaming again, but the rough lettering on the frame felt solid under her fingertip, and she certainly hadn't been able to fall asleep that night. Holly took a deep breath and stepped backwards, centering herself on the mirror. Her reflection was the same as always; messy hair, rumpled clothes, and glasses, but behind her likeness, something much more extraordinary was happening. The room's shadows hazed and blurred, swirling like a mist from behind the corners of the frame. It wasn't real, she told herself, but at the same time, it was more real than anything else had ever been.
From the deepest part of the mist, Holly could see a shadow beginning to form. Her own image dissipated. Her eyes, and every shred of her attention, were completely focused on the shadow. The formless outline began to solidify, becoming the image that had been burned into her memory ever since she had seen it in her dream.
Without realizing the action until she was already halfway through it, Holly found herself stepping towards the mirror, hand outstretched. Behind the surface of the glass, another hand moved to meet hers . . .
And she stopped. There was someone in the room, watching her. Her heart thundering in her chest, she turned, slowly. The room was empty.
No, it wasn't. She was sure of it. She knew who was there. Somehow, she managed to force one word out of her rapidly tightening throat.
"Harry?"
Nothing happened. Then, out of empty space, she heard the sound of a strangled gasp. No more than five feet in front of her, the air itself seemed to wrinkle, then flow into something solid. The silhouette of a silvery cloak flashed to life as another lightning strike lit the room. The cloak dropped away, and a familiar pair of eyes stared back into hers.
His voice was choked and hesitant. "You're . . . you're Holly."
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Albus Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, rubbed his temples, and yawned widely. Every minute he could spare away from his usual Headmaster duties had been devoted to myriad of tasks relating to the events of the summer. There were letters from anxious parents wanting assurance that if anything were to happen, their children would be sent home immediately. More disturbing were the "official" documents from Malfoy's sect of the new ministry, dictating a series of new "highly recommended" regulations. However, possibly the most strenuous task involved the stacks of books and parchments spread across his desk. There were old texts and memoirs, letters and records, all serving in a fruitless search for clues regarding the current location of one seemingly insignificant artifact.
Remus and Sirius had been able to help him earlier, but the day had been as long for them as for him. Both of them had finally fallen asleep over their parchments, and Dumbledore had awoken them softly only to urge them off to bed. They would be needing all the sleep they could get. Dealing with Malfoy on one end would be tricky enough, but an equally tricky, albeit less malevolent, was sitting much closer to home.
Hogwarts was indeed the best protected location in Britain, possibly the world, with many layers of magical shielding. If there was any place where Harry and Holly could safely meet, this was it. Here, they stood a chance of remaining protected from Voldemort. Dumbledore was well aware that the more he were to indicate to either of them that they were being intentionally protected, the more they would protest.
Not that he could blame them, but tomorrow, when he planned to introduce them, he would be able to explain the whole thing. He would be able to press on them the grave possibility that the Voldemort could indeed glean the Mind Touch through his bond with Harry. Most importantly, he would also be able to keep an eye on them for any sign of magical shock.
Dumbledore had no idea exactly how strong this bond would prove to be when it became fully manifested, but he wasn't going to take any chances. Harry was already a very strong wizard, and according to Remus, Holly had a fair deal of potential herself, once she trained up a bit. The kind of magical surge that could possibly occur when they met was mind-boggling, and it had a good chance of overwhelming them completely. It was probably best that they each had a good night's sleep and be allowed to settle in before springing this on them.
Leaning heavily on his elbows, Dumbledore took a deep breath and listened to the persistent tapping of the rain on the window, letting the moment's peace soothe his mind. Funny thing though, the tapping of the rain almost sounded solid against the glass, as if someone were knocking.
Dumbledore glanced at the window. At first, he saw nothing aside from the blackness of the storm... until a sudden flash of lightning silhouetted a dark blob on the sill. In fact, the blob was shaped distinctly like a bird.
Jumping out of his seat, and almost knocking the chair over in the process, Dumbledore rushed to the window and opened it as quickly as he could. Bram burst in the room in a flurry of waterlogged feathers, splashing Dumbledore and everything else within ten feet. She barely made it to the edge of the desk under the weight of the extra water and landed heavily, creating a rapidly spreading puddle across the parchments, as she began to clack anxiously.
"Easy there, my feathered friend," Dumbledore greeted the raven with a tired smile. He waved his wand casually at his desk, drying both the bird and the parchments. "What is it you're trying to tell me?"
Bram ruffled her feathers briefly, pleasantly surprised at no longer being soaked, then began to clack more clearly and systematically. Fawkes, in the meantime, jumped off his perch and landed on the desk next to the nervous raven. Bobbing her head and hopping in agitation, Bram relayed her message to Dumbledore. The Headmaster nodded slowly as she clacked, taking in the information, when suddenly, his face fell. He looked up at the ceiling and took a brief, steadying breath. "Great Merlin's Beard," he whispered.
In the next instant, the tired wizard became a whirlwind. "My goodness, thank you, Bram," he blurted. He reached into a small cup on the mantle and threw just a bit too much powder into the fire before calling out, "Remus! Sirius! Meet me in front of the Great Hall, and hurry!"
He turned sharply back towards Bram. "Please, I invite you to stay in my office, out of this miserable weather. I will be back soon, I hope."
Bram merely bobbed her head, accepting the invitation as she watched Dumbledore pull open the door to his office and ran down the stairs. Fawkes moved a bit closer to Bram and placed his neck comfortingly over the top of her head. Still watching the door, Bram sidestepped in towards the phoenix, accepting the offered reassurance. For a bird, this was far too much stress.
**********************************************************************
Somewhere in his brain, Harry vaguely registered the fact that the image before him was not an illusion, nor a trick of the shadows, nor some bizarre dream. He had most certainly not fallen asleep that night, and was not lying in his four-poster bed, caught in some delirium-induced vision. Had he been less distracted, he might have briefly wondered how on earth he had arrived at the one room in Hogwarts where he might find this young woman. Possibly, he would have questioned the reason the Mirror of Erised was at the school. He might have even reminded himself to breathe. As it was, all he could think to do was to stutter, "You're real . . ."
Holly's mouth opened slightly, searching for a response. After weeks of having her mind fixed on one thing and one thing only, she hadn't even considered what she was going to say to her young cousin. Nodding, she asked, "Nobody told you?"
"I . . . I saw you. In a dream, that is. I asked, but Mr. Weasley didn't want to tell me anything." He sounded ridiculous, and wondered if what he was saying was making sense to Holly.
Her eyes widened. "You know Mr. Weasley?"
"He's my best friend's dad." Harry tipped his head to the side, trying to ignore the fact that none of this felt quite real. "Wait. How do you know him?"
"Er . . . Ministry attack." She hesitated. "I got caught in it."
Harry's eyebrows knitted together. "You were there?"
"I barely got out alive."
"You were caught in the fire," Harry whispered in a detached tone of voice. His face was illuminated by yet another flash of lightning. "The smoke. I smelled the smoke."
"How did you . . . ?" she started, before the answer hit her on its own. "You felt it. It's as though you were connected to me."
"It's the Mind Touch, isn't it?" A little light was starting to burn in the back of his mind. "That was you."
"They told you that much, but they didn't tell you about me." She could feel something beginning to buzz in her head. "But you knew. And you knew my name."
He took a cautious step towards Holly, as though any sudden movements would cause this fantastic vision to burst. "I heard it, in my mind, from Mr. Weasley, I think. He must have been . . ."
". . . thinking about me," she finished for him, taking a step closer for herself. "And you were already curious, because you had already had seen me in a dream . . ."
". . . with the Mirror of Erised." The strange burning in the back of his mind was growing stronger, but he didn't shy away from it. He didn't want to. "I saw you, in the Mirror. I thought it was me at first, but . . ."
". . . it wasn't." The buzzing turned into a tingling sensation racing up and down her spine. "I saw you too. I think we were sharing the dream, but looking at each other, from opposite sides of the mirror."
Neither of them quite being aware of the action, they had almost closed the gap between them.
Harry blinked a couple of times. "You were watching me at the Sorting Ceremony. You've been trying to reach me all this time, haven't you?"
"Yes," she answered, beginning to choke up. "Even in the dream, it was like you were really there. It almost felt like I could reach through the mirror and touch you. I still can't convince myself this is real."
"It feels like that dream. I think I saw you reach for the mirror, from the other side." He stopped short, his faced pinched. Slowly, he lifted his hand and held it, palm facing forward towards Holly.
Common sense meant nothing now. The realizations Holly had made while talking to Seymore flew out the window and were washed away by the torrential downpour. Images from the dream and her own curiosity had taken over. Her hand came up inches away from Harry's. Between their palms, a strange sort of heat was building, not burning or unpleasant, but instead creating a strange sort of pull.
Peripheral vision disappeared. The room disappeared. All that remained was a swirling mist and the two people stuck in the center of the hazy vortex, locked eye to eye, as though trying to find something in each other something unnamed that they'd been searching for in themselves. The heat became tangible, spreading up their arms, glowing vaguely, and the air around them began to hum. From somewhere beyond the mist, they almost heard the sound of thundering footsteps, and men's voices yelling, but the sounds didn't reach past their ears.
Their hands came together, and a sound like a canon went off in their minds. Everything finally disappeared in a wall of blinding whiteness. Through the wall, Harry thought he heard Holly yelling, or was it himself? Holly found herself dropping to the floor, or was she watching Harry fall? The line between them had blurred, as had the line between awareness and oblivion.
The stone floor should have been hard, but it had become blanketed with the blazing whiteness. Hands shook them, and frantic voices called out, but those weren't real. What was real and immediate was impact of this turbulent envelopment, in which the brilliant whiteness was slowly fading to grey. The shadows of the room crept in on the two small forms lying on the floor, shrouding them and finally encasing them in darkness.
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A/N: There you have it. You all wanted to know why they were being kept apart. There's your answer. Trust in Phoenix. Everything shall be explained in time.
For those of you who are reading my new story, thank you for the support and for understanding the delay with the current TPL chapter. For those of you not reading the new story, but who are curious, feel free to access it through my ff.net profile. It's called "Eclipse," and I'll warn you right now, it's slash, but it is NOT smut, will NOT be explicit and exposing, and involves nothing that would even remotely resemble NC-17. The only reason I had considered rating it "R" was due to some violence and a bit of swearing, but in reality, it's only PG-13.
That fic was the reason for the major delay with this one. I thank you for your patience, for the feedback you've given me, and everything else. Chapter 14 should be coming soon. As always, I appreciate all reviews, and if you have any sort of question regarding this story or others, leave me your e-mail address, and I WILL get back to you immediately.
