Disclaimer: What? You mean I have to give him back?! I can't keep him?! Fine, be that way. Harry Potter and all things Potter related are *soooooo* not mine… sigh
Chapter 33
I've finally managed to shoo Pomfrey and Albus out of my bedchambers. No one's said it, but I know this will likely be the last night I remain down here. In fact, I won't be shocked in the least to wake up in the Hospital Wing after tonight's session. I heard Pomfrey muttering monitoring spells as she left my quarters, the meddling woman. I hate the Hospital Wing. How *anyone* can recover in such an eerily sterile environment is beyond me. When *I* stay there, I have reoccurring nightmares of waking up trapped in one of my ingredient jars floating in formaldehyde. Urgh.
I can travel now to Potter's body with ease, manifesting myself within his skin when the Dementors leave. The potions I've left aren't working as they once did, and the reason why numbs me. The elixirs are only capable of working with what's there. If Potter has nothing left… the potions become useless. Of course, I know how close to death he is. I share it with him. I've been near death myself enough times in the past, but always had the luxury before of delirium or unconsciousness to dull the edges a bit. I miss that.
Potter has no such luxuries. His body has begun shutting down, and he can feel it. He senses it, just as I sense his well being now through the bond, even when I'm not consciously connected with him. His breaths are shallower, more rapid. Automatic. His heart flutters irregularly, and a sense of vertigo has ensconced itself firmly in Potter's head, making it nearly impossible for me to maneuver him upright to eat from the tray left by the Azkaban elves. His vision has blackened around the edges as well. Even with his glasses on, he's now practically blind as a bat. One can only hope the effect is temporary.
Irony is still abundant in Potter's life though. Part of me… more than that, actually… marvels that he is still alive at all. As he flitters just on the cusp of consciousness, he's been wearily but very consistently trying to break the bond between us. Actually, he's annoying the hell out of me. He knows he's dying, *I* know he's dying, yet he fights with every ounce of strength he *and I* have to survive, because he knows that if he dies, I do too. But until I give my consent, the bond remains. Forget it, Potter. All he's been doing is making it more difficult for me to provide him with the energy he needs to live.
He may no longer have the strength to try his Animagus form again, but I can still shelter him in my body, here in my chambers, for a little while. Give him a tiny semblance of peace. It's cozy and familiar to him now. I suspect it's why Albus has indulged my wishes to remain here. At least for tonight. A sadness sweeps over me that I know isn't my own. I don't *get* sad. This bleeding of emotions has allowed far more insight into Potter than I ever wanted. When this is all said and done, I'm going to go on a quite thorough and proper bender.
He doesn't expect to live. I don't think he ever really did. Not to adulthood. I've seen no dreams or aspirations for when he grows up. No unrequited crushes that didn't get brutally squelched with Voldemort's rebirth and Diggory's death. No goals or list of things he'd like to do before he dies. He has no expectations regarding his own life. All he has is a few last wishes… to spend a Christmas with Sirius Black, of all people. To see his godfather's name cleared. To fly one last time. Pathetic.
I see these little… bits of hope for what they are, and hate what they make me feel. In fact, I'll just not acknowledge it, and make it go away, shall I? He wants one Christmas with his godfather and Lupin, in a safe place, where he can have just a taste of *what could have been*? It's pitiful. If only Black had gotten custody and never gone to Azkaban. If Potter had never gone to the Dursleys. Hmmm. The Dursleys… Yes, I've seen enough of them now, through the Dementors. I think someday, when this is all over, I shall pay them a little visit. No one ever needs to know. Gah. Enough of wallowing in Potter's misery. I've a mystery to solve.
What in Merlin's name was Pettigrew doing back there? The price for my freedom is teaching the nature of magic? Wouldn't a Butterbeer have done as well? Or perhaps a free ride on the Knight Bus? My report to Albus when I returned was thorough. I spoke of every detail, every conversation, every moment of my last day of employment as a spy. It's damned annoying to be reminded that, as skilled as I am at keeping secrets, I'm an amateur compared to Albus. The look on his face when I described what Potter did…
"Wandless magic. Remarkable…" he'd muttered, his eyes alight with a fire I haven't seen in quite a while. More *could* have been said, but *no*… He's a little *too* fond of mysteries, I think. Yes, yes… spy Death Eater could have been tortured to reveal all. Details. Damned annoying technicality, really. I won't read books in a series until it's complete for just that reason. I've never been keen to be left hanging.
Pettigrew's actions, though, brought far more concern to Albus. "Why do you think he did that, Severus?" he asked me in the middle of my report. I thought about my answer for a moment. I'd tried to analyze each nuance of our brief conversation, tried to sort out anything I'd noted that was *different* from the time before. Truthfully, I couldn't think of any. He's still a weak, rat faced, broken man, treacherous and traitorous, too bright for his own good, hated even by those he'd allied himself with. Nope. Nothing new there.
So why did he save my life? Albus is well aware of my feelings regarding Pettigrew… of my guilt. He may not have been much of a man, but what little there was I enabled Voldemort to strip from him, fillet by fillet. Unfortunately, I have no insight into his motivations at all. He's not the one I've spent my life studying and spying on, after all. I had bigger fish to fry, so to speak.
"Perhaps he's finally gone off his rocker," I replied dismissively. Who am I to look a gift horse in the mouth? He saved my life, so I'll tell Potter a little bedtime story. I've certainly paid much higher prices for my life.
"Did he seem… wrong?" Albus asked thoughtfully. I shook my head with a raised eyebrow. Who isn't *wrong* in the crowd I ran with?
"No more so than usual. Perhaps a bit manic," I replied. Albus steepled his fingers in front of his face and tapped the fingertips together thoughtfully. He began to absently chew on the stray hairs of his beard with his lower teeth in an oddly distracted gesture.
"Thank you, Severus," he said dismissively, and I knew our meeting was done. Fine. Keep your insights to yourself. I'm a pawn in this war. I always have been. I'm well aware of it, and even at peace with it most of the time. I'm not *meant* to know all that's going on, not with what I do. But I'm retired now, damnit, and feeling a bit peaked. And perhaps at this point, I feel like I should *know* where this is going, one way or the other. If it is my place to die with Potter… I'll do it. It's what's been asked of me, and I'll do no less than all I can. But if I'm not… then *now* would be a good time to pull the proverbial 'rabbit out of the hat', because Potter hasn't got much longer, and truthfully, neither do I.
Sighing, I lean back into the pillows propping me up in bed. I've a goblet of Pepperup potion beside me, as well as more chocolate. My tea is just about the right temperature, and the bowl of fruits the house elves brought earlier still looks cool and refreshing. I've taken to having hot flashes lately, tempered by those blasted chills that no charmed blankets can ease, and my stomach is much more temperamental than it once was, all courtesy of Potter, I'm sure. You're procrastinating again. Yes, yes. Tell me something I *don't* know. Like why Pettigrew saved my life and wants me to teach a lesson in the nature of magic to a dying boy.
I close my eyes and reach out with my mind. He's so much more distant now… I keep calling him a boy, but he's not. He hasn't been for a while now. I'm not sure that makes him a man… in fact, I don't think it does. But what he's seen colors his perception so much more sharply than it ever did before. It gives him an air of profound sadness and wisdom I find disconcerting and disturbing. It's not natural to be his age, yet so… resigned. He doesn't want to die. I can feel it in every fiber of his being. Yet he's resigned to it, accepting of it. He wants to survive, but knows he won't. Life, a future, friendship and love… these are pipe dreams he's still unwilling to give up on, yet he knows they'll never happen.
He's still trying to systematically chip away at the spell that connects us, I see as I reach out for him. Hah. Good luck with that, Potter. I'm not going anywhere. I brush away the tatters of what he's tried to break, and reaffirm the link between us as if nothing happened, pulling him to me. It's far easier to buffer myself from the effects of the Dementors when I keep myself anchored *here*, rather than trying to go to him.
Let me go, Professor. I don't want you to die, Potter's thoughts whisper in my mind. Is it possible for a soul to seem heavier? As I draw him towards me, he feels sluggish, as if he's being buffeted by currents in a slow moving river. Like he's being pulled *away* from me. His pain is something I've taken to using potions to dull, even though I experience only a fraction of it. Potent potions. Truthfully, I've not encountered ongoing pain, both physical and emotional, of this magnitude before. The fact that *I* now require mood stabilizing potions does not thrill me.
"Then quit wasting your energy fighting me, and rechannel all that altruistic Gryffindor martyrdom to surviving until help arrives," I reply, remembering to respect how much better he felt when I spoke aloud rather than reading his thoughts. I feel gratified as Potter finally settles within my chest. I half feared not being able to call him to me. For a moment, he relishes the feel of my pillows, my mattress, the gentle pop and crackle of the fire in the fireplace. I consciously anchor him to me, securely, even if it's only for a little while.
Someone's coming? he thinks, astounded, although his voice is oddly hollow.
"Yes, someone's coming. Did you think we'd leave you there forever?" I ask, annoyed. It's odd, talking to myself. I realize that he's so weak, I dare not waste *too* much time with insults and humor, so I consciously work at keeping my normal snarky comments at least somewhat in check.
Well, the thought had crossed my mind, he replies, his voice soft, with just the faintest hint of irony. I hear his thoughts so clearly. I know it unnerved him before, so I don't make him aware that I can still do it now. I can't believe he's assessing how *I* am doing. My physical condition, my state of well being. It's bizarre. The boy's in Azkaban, dying, yet he's spending his time away making sure *I* am alright.
"Quit that," I snap. "I'm fine," I say, then decide a bit of chocolate might help Potter inadvertently through me. I reach out to take a bit and hiss as the bandage on my forearm pulls away from my skin, pulling the scab of Black's mauling bites with it.
*That* isn't fine, Professor. Did that happen at the house? Potter asks, concerned. Oh. Well… What do I say now? Do I tell him about Black? Would he be relieved to know the mutt's okay, or horrified to hear he's on a hunt of his own? Great. Moral dilemmas. How does that work when one *has* no morals? Easy. Lie. Once a spy, always a spy.
"Yes," I reply, amused at my own answer, and nibble at the chocolate. Sickly sweet and oh so Gryffindor. I prefer tart candies myself.
I see your other arm still burns as well, he observes. And so it does. I count myself lucky that that is all it does for the moment. I do not relish the time when my betrayal has Voldemort's undivided attention.
"He was a bit vexed with me the last time we met," I reply dryly. "Does the chocolate help?" I ask idly, by way of distraction. I take a sip of my tea as well, and eye the Pepperup. Hmmm.
I think so, he replies wearily. He's so close to losing consciousness, even with the energy I've been trying to feed him. Okay. I set down my tea and swallow the Pepperup in a gulp. He's startled by my abrupt movements, which pleases me. I don't like being predictable.
"Did that do anything?" I ask after waiting for the effects to pass. Interesting. The potion didn't react the way it normally would. Is it because I too am near death, or because I shelter Potter within me?
I think it did. Thank you, Potter says. I take another bite of the chocolate and wait for him to say something. He remains silent and still. He's waiting for me, I realize. No questions, no inquiries. That I don't like. He should be more actively interested in his own well being, not just mine.
"Aren't you curious who's coming to rescue you?" I ask aloud. Why am I doing this?
Who's coming? Potter asks, taking the bait. I'll just worry him. So why do I feel like I've got to do this?
"Your godfather," I say aloud. Immediately I feel the alarm thrill through him.
What? Sirius? He's coming to Azkaban? Why? Potter asks, and I relish the energy that fear has brought into his veins. It's not a positive emotion, and *is* yet something else for him to worry about, but it's better than the apathy that was beginning to infuse into his very being. I decide not to mention the wizards Weasley will be sending his way. It'll distract from his worry, and Potter's concern for his godfather has stirred him up like I haven't seen for days.
"Who better than an escapee to break you out?" I ask dismissively, as if the answer is obvious. Evidently, it was not unanticipated when I spoke of the unexpected meeting and confrontation between myself and Black. Annoyingly, Albus also wasn't surprised to learn where the convict was heading. Completely unsurprised, in fact. I often wonder if Albus' ability to make everything seem like he'd planned or anticipated it isn't really just the most gifted poker face I've ever encountered.
Azkaban is the last place Sirius needs to be, Potter says, and I feel his concern for his godfather turn into berating himself for making the wrong choice. He should have gone to the Shrieking Shack with Sirius. All his hopes of clearing Sirius' name had been crushed, and the criticism he lashes on himself is brutal…
"Spilt milk, Potter. What's done is done," I say with a wave of my good arm. "Besides, you'll be pleased to know Mr. Weasley is as we speak spreading the news of your injustice with the rest of the wizarding world," I say. He stills in shock. Didn't expect that, did you? Heh. Neither did I.
Percy? Harry asks, and I feel the smallest spark of amusement burble up inside me. Potter's amusement. I'm stunned. Really? Wow. I can't help but smile as I hear the astonishment in his voice, and his own sense of… validation? Pride? He knew Percy Weasley provided a scroll of the true accountings of what went on while he was interrogated at the Ministry of Magic, but not that he'd continued to cooperate. Yes, I certainly didn't think he'd have the spine to do it, either. Potter isn't sure what to make of Percy Weasley's turnaround. I won't mention that it was watching Potter convulse on Veritaserum that cured the imbecile's loyalty towards the Ministry. That is… unexpected, Potter observes. I snort and am glad Potter can't see my face. I didn't know if Potter was even capable of humor, however dark, anymore, and the fact that he is shows a resiliency that nearly takes my breath away.
"I thought so as well. I'll be curious to see how the Daily Puppet reports it," I say.
You mean the Daily Prophet? He corrects me automatically.
"Huh," I say. Another tiny burble of amusement floats up through our connection. Evidently he agrees with me. I find myself working to make him laugh. Hoping he's still capable of it. I feel our connection begin to blur for a moment. "Potter?" I ask in alarm.
Still here. Sorry, he says. Right. Time to get on with Pettigrew's lesson then. I focus my thoughts as I reach a trembling hand out for another sip of tea. I force as much energy as I dare into the bond while still remaining alert and aware. He puts up a brave front. I have to give him that.
"Are you aware of the nature of magic? Have you read it, *or had it read to you* as the case may be, by a certain bookworm, sometime during your infamous exploits?" I ask, distracting him. I'm losing him. Probing his thoughts a little deeper, I discover that the prolonged exposure to the Dementors appears to be making him struggle for memories of his time at Hogwarts. Is it because he has fond memories of the school, then? Does he remember his friends? His schoolmates?
Sir? He asks, bewildered. I've sidetracked him.
"Magic. Where does it come from? What is Dark Magic? " I ask, assuming the proper professorial tones to stir him up again. I feel him gather his concentration to focus on me. Good.
I've no idea, Professor, he replies.
"Then I'll tell you," I say. No scathing remarks? I must be going soft. "Magic is neutral in nature," I begin.
How can that be? What's Dark Magic, then, if not evil? Potter asks, and I'm pleased I've captured his full attention.
"It's the wielder, not the magic itself that's dark," I explain.
Then what are the Unforgivable Curses? He asks. Good question. I couldn't have asked of a better set-up.
"Curses that the wizarding community have deemed too powerful, and too easy to be abused. The curses themselves aren't evil," I say. Silence is my response. He doesn't agree, but won't say it aloud. He's too tired to argue with me. "Why do wizards fear St. Mungo's?" I ask. That puzzles him. It seems a random question.
Because they hate hospitals? He guesses. I read from his thoughts that *he* certainly does. See, Poppy. Leave us down here, damnit.
"Because certain wizards and witches are actually *licensed* to perform the Unforgivables," I say. He's intrigued.
At St. Mungo's? Really? Why? Which ones? How can they be used for good? He rattles off the questions. I've caught his curiosity.
"Look at the curses themselves. The Imperius Curse. What could it be used for?" I ask, trying to force him to participate. He's so tired, though.
It takes away someone else's will. So… a circumstance where someone's will is bad? Maybe someone's who's suicidal? Potter asks. Not bad.
"You've heard of phobias? They occur among wizards as well as Muggles. It would be ridiculous for a wizard to be Rhabdophobic, wouldn't it?" I ask. I have to admit, I still think that's one of the funniest things I've ever heard of.
Rhabdo… What's that? Potter asks.
"Fear of magic," I reply. His silence is warm. He appreciates the irony as well. "Phobias can be crippling, and sometimes the only way to overcome them is to face them. But what if the wizard won't or can't? This is where the trained professionals at St. Mungo's come in," I continue wryly, aware I sound like an advert. "In the right circumstances, they can use the Imperius Curse to allow a wizard to do something they otherwise might not be capable of doing. Given time, experience, and confidence, eventually the wizard learns to do it for themselves, but in the interim…" I explain. The next one I know is much more sensitive.
Interesting, he murmurs. I hear his skepticism. I've only explained *one* of the three.
"Do you think Cedric suffered?" I ask abruptly. The emptiness and darkness that swells within me makes me afraid I've gone too far and lost him. "Harry?" I ask. I'm pushing it, I know, but oddly feel this is something I need to address.
Uh, he stutters as he tries to gather himself. The raw pain and guilt that floods through me is nearly overwhelming, causing my breath to catch and my heart to pound in my ears. Yes, I've gone too far, but instinct tells me this is necessary for some reason. I do many things based on what my intuition tells me. It's saved my life on numerous occasions, after all. The only time I ignored it was when I listened to Black. Bastard.
"You've seen the Killing Curse cast numerous times. Do you think they suffer?" I ask again. My connection to him is tremulous at best. I'm losing him to pain, as I ask him to probe memories that, were his soul still in Azkaban, he'd undoubtedly currently be living. "Potter! Focus. Yes or no?" He jumps at my tone.
He was surprised. Curious as to what was happening. He didn't look like he was in pain. It was like a magic wind blew his soul straight out of his body, and he didn't even have time to register the fact that he'd died, Harry explained, his tone flat. Not a bad description.
"Precisely. Sometimes there comes a moment in a wizard's life, as there are in a Muggle's, when all options have been exhausted, all cures have been tried and failed, and all that is left is the suffering. Wizards and witches are allowed a choice. When death is inevitable, but *how* it occurs isn't, couldn't the Killing Curse also be considered a mercy?" I ask him. He's trying to draw himself out of the pain to truly look at the question. I'm grateful I didn't push him too far. Or that he's resilient enough to move past it. I wouldn't have had the strength to draw him back.
I suppose it could. I've felt guilty about praying for it when *he* is feeling particularly cruel to someone, and all I can do is wish for their pain to end, he says. Chilling words. When there's no hope for survival, one prays for small mercies. Yes, I've certainly wished for death myself rather than face his rather *creative* torture methods. I learned long ago that Voldemort feeds on suffering, and it takes little to no excuse at all for him to turn on his followers. So… *That* was easier to explain than I anticipated. One more to go.
"So… One more of the Unforgivables," I echo my thoughts.
Yes. I can already tell you, I have no idea what could be positive about the Cruciatus Curse, he states flatly. As someone who's suffered it, I certainly can't blame him.
"The mind is a tricky thing, Potter. You've heard what too long under the Cruciatus Curse can do. But think… what did you feel when you were under it?" Oh. Bad idea. Let's just blow past that, rather than making him answer it. "Every nerve in your body is on fire, right? Even ones you've never felt before. So… Follow that logic. Nerves, muscles, tendons. What about when your mind can't *reach* those same nerves? When commands to move a limb are disconnected from the limb itself?" I prompt.
Like paralysis? He asks. I nod, pleased.
"Yes. And even stroke victims. When the messages never reach the body, or the mind is too confused to get the message out at all. The Cruciatus Curse blasts past all that. It's been known, on occasion, to reconnect nerves in a spinal cord injury, and accelerate stroke recoveries hundredfold," I explain. He's appropriately stunned.
There's other Dark Magic, other than the Unforgivables, he states slowly, as if he's gathering his thoughts to ask the next question. How about what Professor Lupin goes through each month? How could the curse of being a werewolf *ever* be a good thing? He challenges. I'm pleased by his questions. Even as distracted as he is, he truly is absorbing all that I'm explaining. Pettigrew would be pleased.
"Let's look at the curse itself. Professor Lupin himself isn't evil," I say, though admitting it aloud is unpleasant. I'm terrified of the man and what he's capable of, and hate what he made me feel, but have to school my responses so that it doesn't cloud what I'm trying to teach. As it is, Potter is skeptical of what I've already said. I can sense how much he adores the man and resents what he perceives to be my forcing his resignation. Wisely, though, he remains silent. "Wolves aren't evil by their very nature, either, are they?" I ask.
No, he replies.
"So what is it about the werewolf that makes it Dark? The wolf isn't evil, and neither is the man," I explain, then try to phrase it another way. "The werewolf is feared for its brutality and ruthlessness. It either kills or turns victims into creatures like itself. Wolves aren't normally like that. In fact, they avoid humans at all costs, only crossing our paths when forced to. They don't appear to particularly like human flesh, either," I say, suppressing shudders at the sudden flash of fangs and claws. "When Lupin becomes a werewolf, several things occur, all of which are catalysts for the Dark Magic. First of all is the transformation itself… I'm told the pain is comparable to Cruciatus," I state, reassessing our connection and that Potter is still firmly *with* me. He's fading. I force a little more energy into him, and feel my own world go slightly topsy-turvy for a moment before reorienting itself.
Sorry, Professor. I'm still here. It's just that you're not quite as clear, and the room's beginning to blur a bit, he says. Not a good sign. Please go on.
"Any animal will lash out in pain. And the Curse was designed to insure that there would be no easy way of easing the agony of transformation. This is why there are so few older werewolves. Their constitution simply cannot handle it month after month for any length of time," I say and feel Potter wince at the pronouncement against Lupin.
Do werewolves go after other animals as well as humans? Potter asks after a moment.
"They do, but their focus is definitely against humans. There is a reason for this, though, as well. The man is aware of the wolf, as the wolf is of the man, but they are eternally separate, yet part of the same being. Two halves of a whole," I say around a nibble of the chocolate. I'm shivering, even with charmed blankets, a fire and warm tea in me. The chill of the Dementors are beginning to seep through my defenses, chipping away at the protections I've tried to build around Potter, however temporarily. He's lived this now for days on end. How can he? I can barely tolerate a few hours.
But the werewolf isn't really Remus, is it? Potter asks, although I sense he already knows the answer. He believes it is, but wishes it weren't.
"He is. He is the wolf, cut off from his own humanity, his own memory, blinded by pain and aware that there is *so* much more to his life that he cannot reach, cannot obtain. The primal instincts of the wolf lash out at everything, but their focus is on humans… The very thing Lupin desperately wishes he could retain. Learning. Rational thought. Memory. Love. It's what makes the Curse as cruel as it is. A werewolf will tear your heart out without a regret, leaving the man behind to face the consequences over which he has absolutely no control," I finish.
How can that *not* be Dark? That's *horrible*! He states in anguish. Evidently all his reading of werewolves didn't allow for him to truly realize the ramifications.
"Black is an Animagus. He is both the man and the mutt," I state, forcing my lips not to draw back into a snarl. Have I mentioned recently how much I loathe the man? "The part of him that is human remains in his Animagus form, and visa versa," I explain. "The transformation is relatively painless. Voluntary. You don't crave Cornish pasties as a Phoenix, you crave… Actually, I have no idea what a Phoenix eats. You'll just have to figure that one out on your own. But I digress… My point is that as a Phoenix you'll eat what a Phoenix eats and not think twice about it. Once you've regained your strength, you'll be able to switch between your Animagus and human form at will," I state, using the reminder of his own Animagus to try to direct him towards more pleasant memories. "There are a multitude of carefully crafted spells interwoven, tied to potions that affix themselves with the blood of a human, used in the Werewolf Curse. Each one, on it's own, isn't Dark. Amnesia, transformation… Even the spells that don't allow the suppression of pain are used in some instances to circumvent a wizard's trying to ignore and work through an injury rather than allowing himself to recover," I finish.
So magic is neutral, Potter says thoughtfully. But I've heard that Dark Magic takes practice to get good at, he's making the statement a question hesitantly, well aware of my own history.
"It does. Wizards are born with varying degrees of talent at magic, but much can be made up with practice. Dark magic is channeled through the wizard as well as his wand. When the caster's intentions are cruel or vindictive… the magic uses different channels. Life, healing, survival, even death, are all natural. Cruelty, vindictiveness, one could argue, are not. It's *learned*. But once someone has used 'Dark Magic' per say, they develop a taste for it. They *want* to do it. And the next time they do, there is that much less reservation casting it than the time before."
So the magic is neutral, but the wizard isn't, then. Okay. So where does magic come from? Potter asks, his tone falsely bright. A little more energy then. Professor, he says sternly. I pause in the midst of trying to conjure up more stamina. Stop that.
"Stop what?" I ask in annoyance, although I know exactly what he's talking about.
You almost fainted the last time. Did you think I wouldn't notice? I'm looking through your eyes, remember? He scolds. So he is. I had forgotten that. I decide to ignore his comment and answer his question.
"No one knows when magic came into being. Most believe, including myself, that it has always been. It's eternal, as old as creation. It's infinite, and not unlimited, as far as I can tell. There is no well that will eventually run dry," I say.
Magic is neutral. Wizards aren't… Potter's voice wavers. He struggles to even say that much. I'm losing him. I try to catch his interest again, daring not to expend any more energy. I know enough about myself to know when I'm a bit shocky. Too much first hand experience.
"As far as Dark Magic goes, intention with casting is everything. In fact, seventh years are taught to narrow a spell's focus through intent alone. You can utter the spell to make hair pink, but intent can make it bright pink or pale. The same goes with any magic," I state. **Potter?** I call loudly in alarm, directly into his mind. Silence. Damnit! He's slipped through my grasp like a puff of smoke as I talked. The icy cold of Azkaban thrills through my veins as he drifts away. Did he hear me? Does it matter? I'm losing him. I was able to keep him for a little while, at least. He puts on such a Gryffindor front. But his body is indeed shutting down. The bone deep weariness colors every aspect of him now. He doesn't want to die, but he is, and he knows it will be soon. He doesn't want me to die, but cannot sever the bond between us without my permission. He stays alive for me, now, I realize, and that is a strange thought. And oddly enough, I realize that even if he dies… he hasn't been defeated. Not in spirit. But he's been so badly damaged. Should the cavalry arrive, even were it to be at precisely this moment, could Potter recover?
Arthur Weasley is the figurehead of some force Dumbledore has assembled over the summer, ready to take action against the Ministry and to save Potter. After I tested the ash Weasley provided, Dumbledore sent word to Arthur, to activate the plans he'd set in place. Supposedly, those loyal to Dumbledore are even now preparing to reinforce the Azkaban defences prior to Voldemort's attack, while planning to whisk Potter away from danger. Whether they or Black get there first is anyone's guess. We're almost there, Potter, I think distractedly as I, too, begin to drift to darkness. I no longer have the strength to remain conscious. Stay with me. We're almost done, I think, but doubt he hears me. The door to my chamber quietly opens, and I know Pomfrey has come for me. Who will come for him?
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Ministry of Magic Cover-Up Conspiracy
By Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent
The growing list of missing witches and wizards can now officially be listed among the first casualties of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. During the Third Task of the Triwizard Tournament, Harry Potter, the boy who as a baby defeated You-Know-Who, and Cedric Diggory, prefect, Captain and Seeker of the Hufflepuff House Quidditch team at Hogwarts disappeared for countless moments. A portkey transported the two boys to an undisclosed location, where Cedric Diggory's life was tragically cut short while trying to defend his teammate and fellow student Harry Potter.
Over the last few months, this reporter has gone undercover, carefully tracking the movements of certain key Ministry officials in the hopes of trying to determine what went wrong at the Triwizard Tournament, why the Ministry of Magic refuses to acknowledge the significant increase in Wizarding disappearances, and the real reasons why the Dark Mark flew over the Quidditch World Cup.
The Ministry of Magic has been adamant in its refusal to acknowledge the possibility of the purported rebirth of You-Know-Who. What has been unearthed during this two month long investigation will shock even the stoutest souls. Over the next week, the Daily Prophet will reveal exclusive details surrounding the Ministry cover-up of murdered Wizards and Witches, and the abduction and imprisonment of fifteen year old Harry Potter in the most feared wizarding prison in existence, Azkaban.
Muggles and Wizards alike have reason to fear. Death Eaters are on the prowl once again. This reporter personally witnessed an attack upon the home of Arvel and Deirdre Barnes, the Dark Mark that hovered above it, and the Ministry officials who arrived at the scene shortly afterwards to eradicate all traces of Dark Magic. After systematically removing the bodies to an undisclosed location and dispelling any lingering Dark Magic traces, unidentified Ministry officials performed memory charms on concerned friends and neighbors to further cover-up any evidence of wrongdoing.
What is so important that Ministry officials are willing to lie about He-Who-Must-Be-Named? Is it the fact that Bartemius Crouch Sr. himself, head of International Cooperation at the Ministry of Magic, is involved in a scandal that smuggled his son, a convicted supporter of You-Know-Who, to freedom, leaving his dying wife to rot in Barty Crouch Jr.'s place in the depths of Azkaban?
In the upcoming exclusive by the Daily Prophet, these questions and more will be explored in detail. In the below photograph, validated with tamperproof-spelled film, it can be clearly seen that, in the dead of night, the Dark Mark flies again.
With this evidence, one can only wonder what the Ministry was thinking, forcing an adult dose of Veritaserum on a fifteen year old boy, and the only known survivor of an attack by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. What charges have been brought against The Boy Who Lived, and why, while awaiting a trial (where no dates have been set), has he been sent to reside in the most dreaded wizarding prison in existence? One fears for the continued health and safety of young Harry Potter, and hopes that he can indeed remain The Boy Who Lived.
TBC…
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Author's Notes: Thanks for all the supportive comments. I've managed to wrap this chapter up faster than the last, thanks in part to my lovely fiancé who is now peering over my shoulder anxiously for each new chapter. Who'd have thought it? 8-)
Cherrychica89 lol! Well, this *is* categorized as Angst, you know *g*; Ali; JKJoling I think he will; WittchWay; SEEKER-2000 heheheheh… Last minute inspiration, that one! Glad you took the time to review. Thank you! *blushes happily at compliments*; Ash Smash Tell me about it! *g*Yep!; Matthew O. Persico It will be soon! I have. When I'm completely done and have the opportunity to edit, then I'll also post there. Thanks for the link!; stormyfire; Teardrop hehehe; Kim Lots going on. Summary: Percy finds evidence to prove the MoM is covering up Death Eater activity; Semmel; Lisette bwah hah hah. Your roommate might not like me for long. Those ff stories are bloody addictive!; Ali Kat Kelts It's starting too. Thank you for the kind thoughts!; Von *ahem* Well, *backs away from the keyboard in fright* here's Harry now. Better? *g*; Christy; Lilas; leaf He does! Woo hoo! I'll try when I have a moment. I apologize for not being able to do it right now.; ICE; opal-dragon A lot of people missed that. Good catch!; Orpheus Things still need to happen. With multiple characters, I have multiple things. Hope this one is better for you. Nope. Not with inconsistent email. I've shortened the responses, but still want to acknowledge the reviews. If you don't like, don't read.; psychochick heheh… Is it wrong to admit you can never sing too much? *g*; Smego Baggins I'll try; hp_4ashley2000 She is. I hope to do so someday! Thank you.; Ariana Deralte Never saw it. I assume it's a movie?; Koanju; KittenBabyGirl; vball1103 Not telling, but it's coming! Sorry I haven't the opportunity to respond by email… I'm working on that!; Fleur Glad you caught that. Go Snape! Heh; Amy Potter 13; PurePsychicEspeon One would hope *giggles manically*; japangirlcmw G; SaukaraSnape; kokopoko Thank you!; Lucia Iris Legaia Tanaka hehehehe… See, I did it faster this time!; kungfubaby; Losiria; Nymoue; black panther he's still around *g*; I am hyper now; holly; Tempest Princess; LoreLai; Lisiria; TeeDee I laughed out loud when I read your review. In my defence, the site shows my last update at 12-28-02, but I actually did update just an hour before the site went down for 2 days, and the updated timestamp never showed. I seem to have that kind of luck. This has happened 2x before as well. It's a conspiracy, I say! *ahem*; Black Rose He does! Yippee!; Bethany Trust me when I tell you that he is a total delight to write as well. He's hysterical, and I find myself wishing *I* had the nerve to say what he says and does. Hope you liked him this chapter, too!: The common theme was 'Where's Harry?', so I hope this answers some of those questions. g Thank you all so much for your awesome reviews and kind words!
Anti Pasta: Thank you! Heh, who'd have thought *I* would like Percy, either? He's insufferable in the series. He was a sneaker character that ended up carrying far more than I ever intended him to. Hope you enjoyed Snape!
Shiloh: I absolutely agree with you. There's something about Harry that just makes me wish *I* could adopt him. Trust me, Snape would answer to *me* for anything cruel he said in class! Insulting Harry's parents and his own abilities like that… How *dare* he! mumbles unhappily and glares at canon Snape I started writing this story in large part because I too was dying for Book 5, and at the time the publishers couldn't even begin to guess when that might be. Oh, I *love* that story! It's one of my favorites as well! They've totally kept the characters canon, and have succeeded admirably in fleshing Ginny out as well. I'm so glad to hear you were recommended my story there! That is quite a compliment indeed! Ah, you've struck something personal there, haven't you? Yes, another reason I started this story was prompted by my outrage yes, yes, I *know* it's fiction. that poor Harry had to once again go to the Dursleys. I am well aware of the damage verbal and emotional abuse can do, not just physical. It scars you… and, well, darnit, Harry shouldn't have had to go back to them! I realized that for *my* Harry to get out of that situation, to stick to canon, I'd have to give it a little nudge. Obviously verbal and emotional abuse (and don't forget starvation. Can we say Oliver?!) weren't enough to get him out of the house, but physical would. And ultimately, I think it's his lonliness and remarkable resilience in the face of such pain, and his joy at the good that *does* come his way that makes him so remarkable to me. He's been placed in such awful circumstances, and where most would be bitter and jaded and closed off to everything, he's… beautiful. As for Snape… If it weren't for fanfiction, I'd never have learned to appreciate the snarky joy of the man. Once you've had a taste for it, you never want to go back! Hmmm… Well, it is written as Angst, but do consider the title as well. That's all I'll say on the matter. grins madly at the kind words about the story. Okay, I'll confess. This 32 year old child feels the same way! What tragic, beautiful characters JKR has written, and I've learned so much from them. It's been my pleasure to borrow them for my own therapy while I breathlessly await Book 5.
Sea Chelle: Goody, goody, goody! I *love* long reviews!!! *Smiles happily* I really appreciate your encouraging words about becoming published. Writing this story has been the best thing for my writing that I've done in decades. It's one thing to harbor a secret hope you could one day be published, but another entirely to actually *share* it with someone, and have them enjoy it. It's more validation than I could have ever dreamed of. Oh yes, Severus is *very* angry at Percy. Keep in mind, if it weren't for him, Fudge may not have had an excuse to come so quickly after Harry. And considering the bond… Nope, Snape's none too pleased. He does like it! Dances happily around the room!
Mara Arwen Black-McGregor: I agree. Thanks! I know. Poor little guy *who almost made Percy a Crispy Critter* *heh*. Thanks for the kind wishes, and I'll try!
Lucia Iris Legaia Tanaka: lol Well, thank you very much! G No worries, there!
Lothey: Soon. Really! 8-) I promise to send an advance with what I'd pictured at the end when I send it to my beta-reader, okay? No peeking! g
Loriel Eris: It's always terrific to hear I've been recommended. Thank you so much. It's fun to look at what others have to say about it (hence why these darn reviews are so addictive, as well). Believe it or not, I started this fic because I wanted to get Harry *out* of the Dursleys. Jeez. Who'd have thought where it would go from there? g I'm glad you like the story. It was fun to read your opinions as the story progressed. Compliments on my writing ability are soaked up like a sponge! Thanks for the kind reviews!