Chapter 31- The Visitor
Harry thought about the last Defense lesson on his way to Professor Lyipin's office.
"Of course, they were considering making Cruciatus an Unforgivable when they first discovered it, due to its torturous nature. However, they did not actually decide on it until as late as the mid seventeenth century. Does anyone know why they finally made Cruciatus an Unforgivable?"
Predictably, Hermione's hand went up. Lyipin pointed to her. When she spoke, she sounded exactly like a textbook.
"The Cruciatus Curse was named Unforgivable because people confessed to crimes they never committed while placed under this curse. They were given the Dementor's Kiss, and then later evidence was found that they were innocent."
"Exactly. When they found out that they had condemned innocent people to a fate worse than death, they immediately discontinued the use of Cruciatus for forced confession. They discovered Veritaserum shortly afterward, and the problem was solved."
Harry had been shocked to find out that the curse was used by the magical government on suspects.
"That, and it is Dark magic."
Harry knocked on the professor's door twice before entering.
"Ah, Harry. Right on time. Today you will be working on Stealth. We will continue this until I find you to be proficient…"
*Damn stealth. If I didn't know better, I would think they were trying to get rid of me.* Harry had just tripped over another root. They really needed to fix the whole visibility debacle in the Forbidden Forest.
"It's forbidden for a bloody reason," Harry muttered, brushing himself off. "If I'm not found by the centaurs, some Death Eater will show up and whisk me off to Voldemort. Bloody wonderful."
He sobered when the leaves rustling overhead startled him. *Right, stealth. Well, it would probably help if I didn't trip over things.* He focused his attention on the ground.
Hooves. Were those hooves? *They're hooves. Oh, no. The centaurs. Maybe I can hide somewhere.*
It was too late. They were in the process of surrounding him before he could finish the thought. He looked in all directions, but being backed up against the tree, saw no possible escape.
"What are you doing in our forest?" one of them, whom Harry recognized as Ronan, asked.
Harry decided to tell the truth. "Auror training."
"If you were in Auror training, you would not be at this school."
"Professor Dumbledore wants me to complete my first year of Auror training now, for some reason."
Ronan snorted. "I do not care what Dumbledore wants. We have been betrayed, and we will not tolerate humans."
"Ronan, be sensible. He's barely out of foalhood. He is in here by no doing of his own."
*You've got that right,* Harry answered silently. *If it were my choice, I'd probably be in my bedroom right now.*
"None of this matters. We will teach Dumbledore to send his young spies into our territory. The rope, please, Magorian."
Harry panicked. He did not know what they planned to do, and he did not want to. He was attacked by a very unpleasant image of himself, hanging from a tree branch by his neck. Not waiting to see if this would turn out to be a premonition, Harry whipped around the tree and sprinted away.
He figured that while he was running, he might as well continue practicing stealth. He was careful to step on the softest part of the ground, lightly but swiftly, to minimize his noise. He watched all parts of the forest at once, careful to avoid anything that could cause him trouble.
Surprisingly enough, his efforts actually paid off. He heard the voices of centaurs, calling to each other to look in this or that direction. Clearly, he could only succeed in stealth when his life was in danger.
Harry began to tire. He had been running for over an hour, intent more on avoiding doom than reaching the edge of the forest. He realized that maybe, just maybe, he had been running deeper into the forest. He was running out of breath. He slowed to a walk, inhaling as deeply as he dared.
"Harry," he heard. He was not sure where the voice came from. He did not respond.
"The tree to your right with the black leaves."
Harry looked. Sure enough, to his right was a tree with black leaves. He had never seen this type of tree before, and wondered what it was. Cautiously he crept closer.
The tree, exasperated, said, "Oh, for Merlin's sake, get over here, Harry." It grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him in.
Harry did not have time to struggle before he saw the face of Sirius looking into his. "Sh," Sirius said. "Don't move. They'll pass this way soon. They'll see you as a tree, and then I can bring you back out of the forest."
The centaurs, conversing quietly about what they should do to him (hearing this, Harry was earnestly glad they had not caught him), passed by them without a second glance. Sirius let go his shoulders.
"Sirius, what are you doing here? Aren't you dead? Oh, I've asked you that before, haven't I? How did you turn into a tree?"
"I was looking for you, actually. What are *you* doing out here?"
"Auror training," Harry said again. He rolled his eyes. He had not gone a day without being asked the same question twice for at least a month.
"I won't ask. Anyway, do you doubt my ability as a wizard? What fully-fledged wizard would *not* be able to turn himself into a tree?"
"Sirius…"
"What?"
"How are you really, in life status? Tell me. I'm still confused. You never really answered that you were not dead, but you keep hinting that you aren't."
Sirius smiled at him. Harry saw that he looked much better than he used to. His hair was shorter and his face had filled out, no longer emaciated. "I thought you would be asking that. I'm afraid that is a very complicated question. It is hard to explain. I am here, but I am not here."
He passed his hand through a tree. "See? I am able to appear to you because of our connection, and partly because you have that mirror I gave you. I spelled it, to let us communicate no matter where we are. I cannot, however, appear to you in the mirror, but *through* the mirror."
"What do you mean?"
"Here. I'll try to show you." Sirius removed a small mirror from his pocket. It was quite odd. It did not reflect the forest, but rather showed what Sirius was seeing. Harry was looking directly at it, but he saw only trees and not his own reflection.
"I have to appear to you *as* the mirror. That is all I am right now."
"Whoa. That is quite something to spring on me after I was just threatened by a group of centaurs."
"Well, you did ask."
"So, you were looking for me?"
"Yes. I wanted to tell you what has been going on. I assume you have heard about the killings."
"No, I haven't. What killings?"
"You've been quite left out of the loop. Muggles have been dying all over Britain of unexplained causes. Just last weekend a whole entire family, including newborn twins, was added to the list. Another Muggle was killed recently. His wife is a witch. Thomas Finnigan, maybe you know who I mean?"
Harry stared straight ahead. "Seamus's dad…is dead? What about his mum? Was she…?"
"Well, she was not killed, but she is now at Mungo's. She was brushed with the Killing Curse, and is now in a coma."
"Merlin." Harry knew that somehow, this had to be his fault. "How do you find out these things? When did it happen?"
"An hour ago, and how I found out would take much too long to explain. I told you, where I exist right now, time is not a familiar concept."
They were silent for the next few minutes. Harry turned to face his godfather as they reached the edge of the trees. "You know what this means, don't you?" Sirius asked.
"Yes," Harry said hoarsely.
"It means that the time is approaching when you will have to face Voldemort again. You will have help, but you will have to do most of it yourself…you know what is in your future when ultimately one of you is defeated. I know it will not be you, Harry. It can't be."
"Then I have to-" Harry stopped himself. Killing someone, even someone that evil, was beyond his comprehension.
"I have to go now, Harry. Remember, be strong. You have to, for the entire world, and not just the magical one. But also remember that you have friends to support you. You do not have to do it all alone."
When Harry next looked at the spot where Sirius had been, the man was gone.
Setting his features firmly, he stalked in the direction of the castle, wondering whom he should tell first: Dumbledore or Seamus. He decided on the former. He would know how to handle the situation, and Seamus would be less inclined to question Dumbledore than Harry.
With a grave expression, Dumbledore regarded Harry from over his long, folded fingers. "You are sure of this information?"
"Yes," Harry replied. "Sirius told me."
"What?" Seamus rasped. "My dad's dead, mum's in the hospital? How did this happen? What am I going to do now?"
"You will be excused from school to visit your mother," Dumbledore told the hysterical seventh year. "Not for a few days, of course, when Mungo's informs you. We do not want the sources of our information getting out to the general public. And I assume that your father will have a funeral that you would attend. You will be excused from classes for this, as well. Know that you will be expected to make up the work."
Ashen-faced, Seamus nodded. He glanced at Harry for the eleventh time that quarter of an hour. Harry had been counting. "I suppose I have you to thank for this," he said sullenly.
"What?" Harry asked. Was Seamus accusing him of being at fault for his parents' fates?
"For knowing about them so soon. Thanks. I wouldn't have wanted to find out from anyone other than Dumbledore, and I know if it took longer, the entire school would know before me."
"Oh. You're welcome."
Underneath it all, Harry knew it was his fault. He was the one who had allowed Voldemort to rise from his metaphorical grave. If he had not let himself be caught that day, in his fourth year, everyone would be safe. No, if he had not stopped Sirius and Remus from killing Wormtail. That was where his biggest mistake lay.
Why couldn't he just have *killed* Voldemort as a child, instead of leaving him without a body? Why did he have to make everything so complicated for himself?
"Harry." He was jerked from his thoughts by Dumbledore's voice. "You can go now."
"Oh, right." Harry left, silent thereafter, and he made his way back to Gryffindor Tower. He almost entered Ron's room immediately, but thought better of it, and headed to the bathroom. He thought he might be sick.
It turned out, he was.
End Chapter 31
I hope you all were shocked senseless. Really.
Mednar, I believe the word you were looking for was ego*tistical*. :)
Review! This second!! Now. Please? Okay, fine. I'll give you some of this miniature wand confetti. They really work, but only once, so choose your spells wisely. :P
Harry thought about the last Defense lesson on his way to Professor Lyipin's office.
"Of course, they were considering making Cruciatus an Unforgivable when they first discovered it, due to its torturous nature. However, they did not actually decide on it until as late as the mid seventeenth century. Does anyone know why they finally made Cruciatus an Unforgivable?"
Predictably, Hermione's hand went up. Lyipin pointed to her. When she spoke, she sounded exactly like a textbook.
"The Cruciatus Curse was named Unforgivable because people confessed to crimes they never committed while placed under this curse. They were given the Dementor's Kiss, and then later evidence was found that they were innocent."
"Exactly. When they found out that they had condemned innocent people to a fate worse than death, they immediately discontinued the use of Cruciatus for forced confession. They discovered Veritaserum shortly afterward, and the problem was solved."
Harry had been shocked to find out that the curse was used by the magical government on suspects.
"That, and it is Dark magic."
Harry knocked on the professor's door twice before entering.
"Ah, Harry. Right on time. Today you will be working on Stealth. We will continue this until I find you to be proficient…"
*Damn stealth. If I didn't know better, I would think they were trying to get rid of me.* Harry had just tripped over another root. They really needed to fix the whole visibility debacle in the Forbidden Forest.
"It's forbidden for a bloody reason," Harry muttered, brushing himself off. "If I'm not found by the centaurs, some Death Eater will show up and whisk me off to Voldemort. Bloody wonderful."
He sobered when the leaves rustling overhead startled him. *Right, stealth. Well, it would probably help if I didn't trip over things.* He focused his attention on the ground.
Hooves. Were those hooves? *They're hooves. Oh, no. The centaurs. Maybe I can hide somewhere.*
It was too late. They were in the process of surrounding him before he could finish the thought. He looked in all directions, but being backed up against the tree, saw no possible escape.
"What are you doing in our forest?" one of them, whom Harry recognized as Ronan, asked.
Harry decided to tell the truth. "Auror training."
"If you were in Auror training, you would not be at this school."
"Professor Dumbledore wants me to complete my first year of Auror training now, for some reason."
Ronan snorted. "I do not care what Dumbledore wants. We have been betrayed, and we will not tolerate humans."
"Ronan, be sensible. He's barely out of foalhood. He is in here by no doing of his own."
*You've got that right,* Harry answered silently. *If it were my choice, I'd probably be in my bedroom right now.*
"None of this matters. We will teach Dumbledore to send his young spies into our territory. The rope, please, Magorian."
Harry panicked. He did not know what they planned to do, and he did not want to. He was attacked by a very unpleasant image of himself, hanging from a tree branch by his neck. Not waiting to see if this would turn out to be a premonition, Harry whipped around the tree and sprinted away.
He figured that while he was running, he might as well continue practicing stealth. He was careful to step on the softest part of the ground, lightly but swiftly, to minimize his noise. He watched all parts of the forest at once, careful to avoid anything that could cause him trouble.
Surprisingly enough, his efforts actually paid off. He heard the voices of centaurs, calling to each other to look in this or that direction. Clearly, he could only succeed in stealth when his life was in danger.
Harry began to tire. He had been running for over an hour, intent more on avoiding doom than reaching the edge of the forest. He realized that maybe, just maybe, he had been running deeper into the forest. He was running out of breath. He slowed to a walk, inhaling as deeply as he dared.
"Harry," he heard. He was not sure where the voice came from. He did not respond.
"The tree to your right with the black leaves."
Harry looked. Sure enough, to his right was a tree with black leaves. He had never seen this type of tree before, and wondered what it was. Cautiously he crept closer.
The tree, exasperated, said, "Oh, for Merlin's sake, get over here, Harry." It grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him in.
Harry did not have time to struggle before he saw the face of Sirius looking into his. "Sh," Sirius said. "Don't move. They'll pass this way soon. They'll see you as a tree, and then I can bring you back out of the forest."
The centaurs, conversing quietly about what they should do to him (hearing this, Harry was earnestly glad they had not caught him), passed by them without a second glance. Sirius let go his shoulders.
"Sirius, what are you doing here? Aren't you dead? Oh, I've asked you that before, haven't I? How did you turn into a tree?"
"I was looking for you, actually. What are *you* doing out here?"
"Auror training," Harry said again. He rolled his eyes. He had not gone a day without being asked the same question twice for at least a month.
"I won't ask. Anyway, do you doubt my ability as a wizard? What fully-fledged wizard would *not* be able to turn himself into a tree?"
"Sirius…"
"What?"
"How are you really, in life status? Tell me. I'm still confused. You never really answered that you were not dead, but you keep hinting that you aren't."
Sirius smiled at him. Harry saw that he looked much better than he used to. His hair was shorter and his face had filled out, no longer emaciated. "I thought you would be asking that. I'm afraid that is a very complicated question. It is hard to explain. I am here, but I am not here."
He passed his hand through a tree. "See? I am able to appear to you because of our connection, and partly because you have that mirror I gave you. I spelled it, to let us communicate no matter where we are. I cannot, however, appear to you in the mirror, but *through* the mirror."
"What do you mean?"
"Here. I'll try to show you." Sirius removed a small mirror from his pocket. It was quite odd. It did not reflect the forest, but rather showed what Sirius was seeing. Harry was looking directly at it, but he saw only trees and not his own reflection.
"I have to appear to you *as* the mirror. That is all I am right now."
"Whoa. That is quite something to spring on me after I was just threatened by a group of centaurs."
"Well, you did ask."
"So, you were looking for me?"
"Yes. I wanted to tell you what has been going on. I assume you have heard about the killings."
"No, I haven't. What killings?"
"You've been quite left out of the loop. Muggles have been dying all over Britain of unexplained causes. Just last weekend a whole entire family, including newborn twins, was added to the list. Another Muggle was killed recently. His wife is a witch. Thomas Finnigan, maybe you know who I mean?"
Harry stared straight ahead. "Seamus's dad…is dead? What about his mum? Was she…?"
"Well, she was not killed, but she is now at Mungo's. She was brushed with the Killing Curse, and is now in a coma."
"Merlin." Harry knew that somehow, this had to be his fault. "How do you find out these things? When did it happen?"
"An hour ago, and how I found out would take much too long to explain. I told you, where I exist right now, time is not a familiar concept."
They were silent for the next few minutes. Harry turned to face his godfather as they reached the edge of the trees. "You know what this means, don't you?" Sirius asked.
"Yes," Harry said hoarsely.
"It means that the time is approaching when you will have to face Voldemort again. You will have help, but you will have to do most of it yourself…you know what is in your future when ultimately one of you is defeated. I know it will not be you, Harry. It can't be."
"Then I have to-" Harry stopped himself. Killing someone, even someone that evil, was beyond his comprehension.
"I have to go now, Harry. Remember, be strong. You have to, for the entire world, and not just the magical one. But also remember that you have friends to support you. You do not have to do it all alone."
When Harry next looked at the spot where Sirius had been, the man was gone.
Setting his features firmly, he stalked in the direction of the castle, wondering whom he should tell first: Dumbledore or Seamus. He decided on the former. He would know how to handle the situation, and Seamus would be less inclined to question Dumbledore than Harry.
With a grave expression, Dumbledore regarded Harry from over his long, folded fingers. "You are sure of this information?"
"Yes," Harry replied. "Sirius told me."
"What?" Seamus rasped. "My dad's dead, mum's in the hospital? How did this happen? What am I going to do now?"
"You will be excused from school to visit your mother," Dumbledore told the hysterical seventh year. "Not for a few days, of course, when Mungo's informs you. We do not want the sources of our information getting out to the general public. And I assume that your father will have a funeral that you would attend. You will be excused from classes for this, as well. Know that you will be expected to make up the work."
Ashen-faced, Seamus nodded. He glanced at Harry for the eleventh time that quarter of an hour. Harry had been counting. "I suppose I have you to thank for this," he said sullenly.
"What?" Harry asked. Was Seamus accusing him of being at fault for his parents' fates?
"For knowing about them so soon. Thanks. I wouldn't have wanted to find out from anyone other than Dumbledore, and I know if it took longer, the entire school would know before me."
"Oh. You're welcome."
Underneath it all, Harry knew it was his fault. He was the one who had allowed Voldemort to rise from his metaphorical grave. If he had not let himself be caught that day, in his fourth year, everyone would be safe. No, if he had not stopped Sirius and Remus from killing Wormtail. That was where his biggest mistake lay.
Why couldn't he just have *killed* Voldemort as a child, instead of leaving him without a body? Why did he have to make everything so complicated for himself?
"Harry." He was jerked from his thoughts by Dumbledore's voice. "You can go now."
"Oh, right." Harry left, silent thereafter, and he made his way back to Gryffindor Tower. He almost entered Ron's room immediately, but thought better of it, and headed to the bathroom. He thought he might be sick.
It turned out, he was.
End Chapter 31
I hope you all were shocked senseless. Really.
Mednar, I believe the word you were looking for was ego*tistical*. :)
Review! This second!! Now. Please? Okay, fine. I'll give you some of this miniature wand confetti. They really work, but only once, so choose your spells wisely. :P