Chapter Five: Ties That We Bind, Ties That We Break
The mysterious dream remained a constant subject on Harry's mind when he awoke late the next morning. The possibilities of it seemed endless…
Had the woman been real? Or had she been another fantasy from his grief-riddled mind? And if she had been real, was it wise to reject her offer?
You missed your big chance, a voice in his head taunted. All that talking about what you'd do if you'd get your hands on Wormtail and Kreacher, and when the opportunity came, what do you say? 'Oh, sorry, I don't want to be murderer.' You're an idiot!
I don't want to be a murderer, Harry thought. That would make me just like them…
Oh, really? the voice asked slyly. Well, what about the prophecy? "Neither can live while the other survives," remember? That means that either Voldemort will kill you, or you'll kill him. If you're the one who is going to kill Voldemort one day, you'll be a murderer anyway.
That isn't true! Harry thought angrily.
What did you think is going to happen? the voice retorted. Thought that Voldemort would just die of old age?
No, I hadn't, Harry thought. He hadn't really considered his options; he'd been trying to get over the initial shock that his entire life might be predicted for him. Yet now he couldn't help but wonder… if he did end up killing Voldemort, would that make him a murderer too?
Face it… either you're going to kill or be killed, the voice pressed on. Either way, you lose, so what does it matter?
"Hey --- Harry!"
"Huh?" Harry muttered groggily. He sat up on his camp bed. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were standing in the doorway.
"We let you sleep in for a bit," Ron explained. "You looked dead tired. Did you sleep okay?"
"Fine," Harry lied. He saw Ginny staring at him. From the way she looked, he knew that she didn't believe him one bit. She'd probably confront him about it later, but Harry wasn't about to tell her about the dream.
"Well, anyway, Professor Lupin is here," Hermione said. "He's downstairs talking to Mum… he came to see how you were doing."
Harry groaned inwardly. Just what he needed --- another concerned person was checking on him. Ordinarily, he would have been glad to see Professor Lupin, but unfortunately, Lupin was Sirius's best friend, and a conversation with him would eventually result in talking about Sirius.
Perhaps some of his discomfort was evident to the others. "How about we play a game of Quidditch after you talk to him?" Ron suggested hastily. "We haven't played all summer…"
Harry shook his head. "Sorry, but I don't fancy playing right now," he said dully.
Everyone gaped at him. "You don't want to play Quidditch?" Hermione asked incredulously. "But you love it!"
"Yeah, don't you want to do some catching up after Umbridge banned you last year?" Ron asked.
Harry sighed. "Not right now, Ron." Quidditch reminded him painfully of Sirius. Nearly three years before at Hogwarts, Harry had caught sight of the large, black dog hiding in the stands, watching him playing Quidditch…
And now he was gone forever.
"You can't just sit in here for the whole day!" Hermione pleaded.
"Come on, it will be fun," Ron said. "It'll get your mind off things!" He let out a yelp as Ginny elbowed him in the ribs.
Harry's temper flared up. So they were trying to get him to stop thinking about Sirius?
"I'll think about it, okay?" he said through gritted teeth, determined not to lose his temper. Actually, he had no intention of even considering it, but it was the only thing he could think of that would get them to leave him alone.
Ron, Hermione, and Ginny glanced at each other. "All right," Ginny said, looking a bit skeptical. "See you later." They left the room.
Reluctantly, Harry got dressed and went down to the kitchen, where he found Mrs. Weasley sitting at the table, looking nearly as bad as she had yesterday. Professor Lupin was sitting next to her. He, too, looked paler and older than ever. Harry knew that his appearance had nothing to do with the full moon.
"Oh --- good morning, Harry dear," Mrs. Weasley said in a slightly strained voice. "I saved you some breakfast… do you want anything?"
"No, thank you," Harry said quickly. He wasn't at all hungry, and he didn't want Mrs. Weasley trouble herself.
"Right," Mrs. Weasley said weakly. "Well --- I'll just leave you two alone to talk then." She hurried out of the kitchen.
Harry sat down across from Lupin. For a while, there was silence. It seemed as though neither of them knew exactly what to say to each other.
Finally, Lupin spoke. "How have you been, Harry?"
Harry sighed. "Not so good," he admitted. "Everything's a big mess. Percy's got everyone riled up… and S…"
He froze. He almost said Sirius's name. Lupin, however, seemed to know where he was heading.
"Molly told me what happened," he said quietly. "You tried to get Percy to help clear Sirius's name, and he refused. The Ministry still thinks he's a murderer."
"What about the Order?" Harry demanded. "You --- Moody --- Tonks --- Kingsley --- Dumbledore --- didn't any you of tell Fudge the night Voldemort broke into the Ministry?"
"We tried to," Lupin said tiredly, "only Fudge didn't believe a word of it. He refused to take the word of a werewolf and a couple of lunatics," he added bitterly. "And without Wormtail, we basically had no evidence for them."
"Well, isn't anyone trying to actually catch Wormtail?" Harry asked angrily. "Don't you want to clear his name?
"Of course I do," Lupin said flatly. "How could you think otherwise? Yet as we don't know where Voldemort's whereabouts are, we don't know where Wormtail is. He could be anywhere…"
Harry suddenly remembered the dream he'd had about Wormtail being assigned to spy on an Order member. However, something inside of him told him to keep quiet about it.
Lupin paused, looking more carefully at Harry. "You didn't contact any of the Order members while you were at your aunt and uncle's," he commented. "They weren't horrible to you, were they?"
"They're always horrible," Harry said wearily. "But they left me alone mostly."
"Everyone at the Order has been really worried about you," Lupin went on, looking concerned. "Especially Dumbledore… he wanted to know if you were having any more of those dreams."
"Has he?" Harry said, glaring at the floor. Talking about Dumbledore was another thing Harry wasn't in the mood for.
"Yes, he has," Lupin replied, taken aback by Harry's tone. "I asked him if he wanted to check up on you himself… but he didn't want to, for some reason."
Big surprise, Harry thought dryly.
"But back to the dreams, Harry," Lupin said seriously, "have you been having them?"
"One," Harry said, thinking carefully. "Voldemort was talking to --- one of the Death Eaters."
Lupin stared at him intently. "And?"
A grim smile formed on Harry's face. "Bellatrix is dead."
"Oh," Lupin replied. His face bore no emotion. "Actually, I'm not surprised. Voldemort has been known to dispose of Death Eaters who can't carry out his orders to his liking. Bellatrix failed to bring that prophecy to him, so it was likely he'd get rid of her after that."
"What do you know about the prophecy?" Harry asked, alarmed.
"Just that Voldemort wanted it," Lupin replied calmly. "Dumbledore never said what it was about."
"Oh," Harry sighed, sinking back into his chair in relief. The less anyone else knew about the prophecy, the better.
"Was there anything else Voldemort talked about?"
"No," Harry lied.
"Very well," Lupin said. Yet like Ginny, he looked as though he didn't fully believe Harry. "Anyway, Dumbledore was talking about you resuming Occulmency lessons when you go back to Hogwarts…"
"No way!" Harry said at once, rising from his chair. "I'm not doing any more of those lessons ever again!"
"It won't be with Snape, if that's what you're thinking," Lupin said firmly. "Dumbledore said that he'll take over teaching you."
Harry shook his head. "No! I don't want anything more to do with that stuff. Especially not with him!"
Lupin was shocked. "What's going on between you and Dumbledore?" he asked. "You've always been on good terms with him!"
"Not anymore," Harry said bitterly.
"Something happened, didn't it?" Lupin demanded. "Harry, you can tell me anything… what happened?"
"Why don't you ask him?" Harry retorted. "Or does he keep secrets from the Order, too?"
"Well, whatever is going on between you two, you're just going to have to get over it," Lupin said sharply. "There's nothing more important than closing your mind --- so that Voldemort can't trick you again! So that another person doesn't die trying to go after you!"
Silence. Harry stared at him in disbelief. Did Lupin blame him for Sirius's death?
"I'd better get going," he said shortly. "Take care of yourself --- and close your mind. Whenever you're ready to talk to me, you can find me at Grimmauld Place." With a pop, he Disapparated.
Harry stood there, frozen. It was his fault, Harry knew that… but he didn't think that Lupin would think that too…
Feeling even worse than earlier, Harry slowly trudged out of the kitchen, only to find Ron and Hermione at the foot of the stairs.
"He's right, you know," Hermione said quietly.
Harry started sputtering. "What? Were --- were you two listening to us?"
"We weren't eavesdropping," Hermione said calmly. "We could hear you yelling from all the way upstairs. Why didn't you tell us that you'd had another dream?"
"It was just Voldemort talking one of the Death Eaters!" he snapped. "It wasn't a big deal."
"Harry, I thought that after what happened, you would have worked on closing your mind!" Hermione admonished him. "Haven't you learned anything?"
"So you're saying that it's my fault too?" Harry asked, his eyes flashing. "Great, join the club, why don't you?"
"We don't think that it's your fault, mate," Ron said quickly, moving between the two. "Everyone gets duped at least once or twice…"
"You can't afford to let that happen again!" Hermione said angrily, ignoring Ron completely. "Unless you stop being such a stubborn idiot, V-Voldemort will trick you again, and someone else will probably have to pay for your mistake!"
"I never wanted anyone to die!" Harry bellowed, rage erupting inside of him. "Unlike your precious little house-elf, Kreacher!"
"What?"
"You heard me! He was the one who set me up in the first place, by telling Malfoy's mother about Sirius and me!"
"It wasn't his fault!" Hermione shouted, her eyes shining. "The Blacks treated him badly for so long --- they poisoned his mind!"
"Is that so?" Harry shot back. "What about Dobby? He worked for the Malfoys! They were just as horrible to him as the Blacks were to Kreacher! And in case you hadn't noticed, he never called anyone "Mudbloods" or "blood traitors"! He never sold anyone out to the Death Eaters!
"Did it ever occur to you, Hermione, that house elves aren't the victims you always thought they were? Do any of them, aside from Dobby, complain about their lives? They like being enslaved, for some strange reason! As far as I'm concerned, Kreacher helped Bellatrix kill Sirius!"
"Well, Sirius never treated him well either!" Hermione yelled. "I kept telling all of you to be nice to Kreacher, but did anybody listen to me? No! If Sirius had been nicer to him, Kreacher wouldn't have gone to Mrs. Malfoy!"
White-hot fury consumed Harry at these words. "Are you saying that Sirius deserved what he got?" he asked in a dangerously low voice.
Hermione suddenly looked horrified. "Oh --- Harry --- I didn't mean…"
Harry cut her off. "No, I think I see now," he said coldly. "Your stupid house-elves mean more to you than your friends! Tell you what --- if one of them happens to sell you or your family out, don't come crying to me."
Without even stopping to look at the expression on her face, he stormed away.
***
Hours later, Harry was sitting alone outside, deep in the Weasleys' garden. Rain was pouring down from the sky, soaking him from head to toe, but Harry didn't care if he caught pneumonia. He didn't care about anything.
Mrs. Weasley had been the only person who had tried to bring Harry in, and he'd refused, point-blank. She had eventually left him alone. Harry supposed he'd brought that on himself with his rash treatment of Hermione. Still, he wasn't about to go back inside and apologize. Whether she meant to or not, she'd sided with Kreacher over Sirius. And she and Lupin both thought it was Harry's fault that Sirius died…
It had been his fault; there was no getting around it. Yet somehow, it felt even worse when two people he had known for a long time thought the same way.
Why did you have to leave me, Sirius? Harry wondered miserably. Water was trickling down his face --- it was hard to tell whether it was rainwater or his own tears. Now I don't have anyone!
Never had he felt more alone. It seemed as though he was the only person in the world who thought that something should be done to help Sirius… although if what the strange woman in his dream spoke the truth, he was beyond help.
He drew up his knees to his chin and buried his face in his hands. This was the worst he'd felt in ages, including the first ten years of his life with the Dursleys. The pain so intense that he thought his heart would burst from it.
Dumbledore said that his ability to feel was his greatest strength. This made no sense at all --- how could something that made him feel so weak and helpless be his greatest strength?
The woman's words kept echoing in his mind: "You want it to end, don't you?"
Yes, Harry thought dimly. I want it to end…
"I can give it to you…an end to pain and the power to take revenge. That's what you want, isn't it?"
Yes… that's what I want…but I don't want to kill…
Do I?
"You'd only be giving them what they deserve. And what will happen to them if you don't take action? Will you wait around until justice catches up with them?"
No, he wouldn't. After everything Sirius had done for him --- everything he sacrificed --- he wasn't just going to sit around and wait for Kreacher and Wormtail to get their comeuppance.
No one else was going to help him…
I want to make them pay for what they did… I want to make them feel what they did to Sirius --- what they did to me…
He looked up from his hands. A hatred more powerful than he had ever felt was coursing through him.
He knew what he was going to do.
***
Moments later, Harry returned to The Burrow. Dinner had already been served --- the third meal he'd missed that day --- but he didn't feel the least bit hungry. No one was in sight.
He went into the living room and lay down on the couch. There was no way that he would sleep in Ron's room tonight; he probably was furious with Harry for what he had said to Hermione…
Suddenly very tired, Harry closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep…
He was back in the Department of Mysteries. The strange woman was standing in front the arch with the veil, exactly where she had been last time.
"So you've returned," she said, as though she'd been expecting him.
"Yes," Harry replied. "I've decided to take your offer." He hesitated. Was he really going to do this? What this really was a trap?
No, his mind was made up. It was either this, or spend the rest of his life wallowing in misery while Wormtail and Kreacher got away with murder.
An eerie smile crossed the woman's face. "I knew you would. A rage as powerful as yours doesn't just fade away in time. But first, tell me the names of the murderers."
"Wormtail --- Peter Pettigrew is his real name --- and Kreacher, a house-elf."
The woman nodded. "Good. Now give me your hands," she instructed.
"What are you going to do?" Harry inquired.
"I'm going to give you my powers, and drain you of all painful emotions. The grief and sorrow will be nothing but a memory for you."
Harry nodded and extended his hands towards her. All uncertainties had vanished from his mind, leaving nothing except his desire to avenge Sirius…His hands touched hers.
All of a sudden, Harry felt his head explode with pain. He screamed, feeling as though part of his body was being ripped away… yet something was put back inside of him. Something wasn't his…something that was agonizing…
"Don't let go," the woman kept whispering, gripping him tightly. "This is all part of the process… it will all stop in a moment…"
Yet it didn't stop. Maybe he was making a mistake. But then again, Harry thought, before his world faded to black, it's a little late to change my mind.
To be continued…