Disclaimer: Consider it a given that I did not create the Harry Potter Universe.
A/N – Well, another chapter so soon? I am shocked. Gusha is amazed (and insufferably annoying about it)
This chapter is basically about tying up a very important, if obscure, loose end from all the way back in chapter four. You didn't even notice it, did you? La la la la la.
*****
The old harbor district was not a place a decent person lingered after dark, or before dark for that matter. The water was grimy. It was only beginning to recover from Muggle abuse. They would still be at it to if not for the diligent labor of their enviro-whatsits.
A huddle of buildings sulked along the damp and deserted pier. Among them was a once abandoned warehouse.
It was the sort of building that waits forlornly for someone to notice it and tear it down. If it were capable of thought or emotion the building would have been shocked and surprised that it was occupied at all. The same could be said of the Muggle who owned the place.
The inhabitants of the rickety, old structure knew very well when to make themselves scarce. The most obvious clue, of course, was the howling rage of the almost-person in the center of the main room. Only slightly less obvious was the loud popping and whizzing of spells flung at anything that looked breakable and anyone who happened to be flushed from their hiding place.
The Dark Lord was not happy.
The cowering figures hiding in the shadows knew this. They also knew why.
Potter.
Potter and Snape had both escaped them.
One of the spells hit a metal girder, an integral support of the roof. It melted in one spot. The weakened building groaned and shook in response.
A large rotting crate levitated crazily into a wall with a sickening thud. That was the last straw for the tired old building. It collapsed with a great and final moan.
Only one man did not Apperate away in time. His hulking body was abandoned, still breathing, beneath the rubble.
*****
A great many miles away, Harry Potter woke in sudden pain. He clutched at his forehead. The pain subsided slowly.
Harry took a deep breath and relaxed into the large chair that cradled his body.
"Harry?"
Harry looked up at Neville. "I'm all right." Harry said. "Bad dream. Have we heard anything?"
"No." Neville shook his head, still watching Harry intently. "It's almost dinner time. If they don't give us information soon we are sending someone to ask."
Harry closed the book sitting on his lap. "How long have I been asleep?"
"About two hours, I suppose." Neville said, shuffling a deck of cards.
Harry looked about. There were fewer students than before, but the common room was still unusually crowded. Everyone was studying or talking softly. Harry had seldom seen the room so subdued.
Neville laid out his cards in a clock solitaire pattern on the low table between them. "Do you want to talk about it?" He asked, not looking up.
"No." Harry said quickly. "I'm fine."
Neville shrugged. "Just thought it might help. I can understand not wanting to, but it does help to talk." He didn't look up as he worked through his solitaire game.
"Thanks anyway." Harry said. He rose and stretched sleepily.
Harry made his way up to his room and let Zinnia into her terrarium.
He shook his head. He hadn't had a dream about Voldemort in a long time. Why now? Was it just stress from their near miss and worry about Ron and Hermione?
Harry threw his book onto his desk. He kicked off his shoes and stretched out on his bed. He laced his fingers and placed them behind his head on the pillow. He wrinkled his nose and blew out a loud breath.
Perhaps the dream really was a vision of where Voldemort had been. Even if it was, what was the likelihood of finding it, given only the information in the dream?
It could be any port town in Britain, anywhere in the world. Harry resolved to tell Severus everything he could recall right after dinner.
His eyes focused and refocused aimlessly as his thoughts wandered.
Suddenly he shot up. He stared at the three odd assemblages of feathers, beads, leather and string hanging over his pillow. He stood on his bed to get a closer look.
He touched the Native American dream catcher Sirius had given him for his birthday. There was dust on the hoop.
Beside it was the small leather bag Mrs. Weasely had sent him practically as soon as he had gotten to the Dursleys. It had beads hanging from the bottom fringe and still smelled faintly of sage and coriander. She told him it would soften the nightmares. She was sure he would have them when the shock of Cedric's death eased.
The last object was from Hermione. Another talisman against unpleasant dreams. She read about it in Romania and made it for him. It was a little face with feathers for hair and beard. It smiled benevolently at him.
Harry lay back on his bed feeling slightly guilty. What information could he have observed if he hadn't had them? Could they have caught Voldemort before now? Were his visions even true visions?
He stood, restlessly and jammed his feet back into his shoes. He thudded back own to the common room. People looked up as he entered.
He flopped back into the seat across from Neville.
"Neville, maybe I've changed my mind." He said.
Neville set down his cards and looked up. "All right." He sat back in his chair.
"I…"
Harry got no further. The portrait hole opened. Everyone in the room surged out of their chairs and stared into the open portal.
"Hermione." Harry cried. "Are you all right?"
She smiled wanly. "Yes. I had a cut is all." She gestured at the tattered sleeve of her robes. A white bandage could be seen through the bloody fabric.
"They sent me up to call the house down to dinner." She looked wearily around at the crowd that had quickly gathered around her. "The entry hall is finally clear. They had the prefects help with the wounded, or they would have sent word sooner. I can tell you that no one has died, and all students are accounted for."
"What about Ron?" Harry asked.
Suddenly more voices called out names. Hermione held up her hands.
"Quiet." She said. "The worst of the injured are in the hospital wing. The rest are in the Great Hall. Madame Pomphrey decided walking up and back would be too much for the recently injured. She wanted them where they could be watched."
"Ron?" Harry asked quietly.
She smiled. "He's fine. He broke his arm, I think. I last saw him helping Snape." She drew another deep breath, trembling. "I am so glad to see you safe, Harry. They were looking for you."
"I know." He shook his head. "I…"
Hermione cut him off with a wave of her hand. "Everyone should go down to dinner. I need to change. Go on, Harry, I'll catch up."
The crowd let her through, everyone starting to speak at once. Harry let the momentum of the group propel him down to the Great Hall.
*****
A/N - There, see, you didn't think I thought about why Harry had "Not a twinge all summer." Did you? It was just my pacifist nature or something, right? He he he.
I had this ready last night, but the site wouldn't let me post. Sigh.
A/N – Well, another chapter so soon? I am shocked. Gusha is amazed (and insufferably annoying about it)
This chapter is basically about tying up a very important, if obscure, loose end from all the way back in chapter four. You didn't even notice it, did you? La la la la la.
*****
The old harbor district was not a place a decent person lingered after dark, or before dark for that matter. The water was grimy. It was only beginning to recover from Muggle abuse. They would still be at it to if not for the diligent labor of their enviro-whatsits.
A huddle of buildings sulked along the damp and deserted pier. Among them was a once abandoned warehouse.
It was the sort of building that waits forlornly for someone to notice it and tear it down. If it were capable of thought or emotion the building would have been shocked and surprised that it was occupied at all. The same could be said of the Muggle who owned the place.
The inhabitants of the rickety, old structure knew very well when to make themselves scarce. The most obvious clue, of course, was the howling rage of the almost-person in the center of the main room. Only slightly less obvious was the loud popping and whizzing of spells flung at anything that looked breakable and anyone who happened to be flushed from their hiding place.
The Dark Lord was not happy.
The cowering figures hiding in the shadows knew this. They also knew why.
Potter.
Potter and Snape had both escaped them.
One of the spells hit a metal girder, an integral support of the roof. It melted in one spot. The weakened building groaned and shook in response.
A large rotting crate levitated crazily into a wall with a sickening thud. That was the last straw for the tired old building. It collapsed with a great and final moan.
Only one man did not Apperate away in time. His hulking body was abandoned, still breathing, beneath the rubble.
*****
A great many miles away, Harry Potter woke in sudden pain. He clutched at his forehead. The pain subsided slowly.
Harry took a deep breath and relaxed into the large chair that cradled his body.
"Harry?"
Harry looked up at Neville. "I'm all right." Harry said. "Bad dream. Have we heard anything?"
"No." Neville shook his head, still watching Harry intently. "It's almost dinner time. If they don't give us information soon we are sending someone to ask."
Harry closed the book sitting on his lap. "How long have I been asleep?"
"About two hours, I suppose." Neville said, shuffling a deck of cards.
Harry looked about. There were fewer students than before, but the common room was still unusually crowded. Everyone was studying or talking softly. Harry had seldom seen the room so subdued.
Neville laid out his cards in a clock solitaire pattern on the low table between them. "Do you want to talk about it?" He asked, not looking up.
"No." Harry said quickly. "I'm fine."
Neville shrugged. "Just thought it might help. I can understand not wanting to, but it does help to talk." He didn't look up as he worked through his solitaire game.
"Thanks anyway." Harry said. He rose and stretched sleepily.
Harry made his way up to his room and let Zinnia into her terrarium.
He shook his head. He hadn't had a dream about Voldemort in a long time. Why now? Was it just stress from their near miss and worry about Ron and Hermione?
Harry threw his book onto his desk. He kicked off his shoes and stretched out on his bed. He laced his fingers and placed them behind his head on the pillow. He wrinkled his nose and blew out a loud breath.
Perhaps the dream really was a vision of where Voldemort had been. Even if it was, what was the likelihood of finding it, given only the information in the dream?
It could be any port town in Britain, anywhere in the world. Harry resolved to tell Severus everything he could recall right after dinner.
His eyes focused and refocused aimlessly as his thoughts wandered.
Suddenly he shot up. He stared at the three odd assemblages of feathers, beads, leather and string hanging over his pillow. He stood on his bed to get a closer look.
He touched the Native American dream catcher Sirius had given him for his birthday. There was dust on the hoop.
Beside it was the small leather bag Mrs. Weasely had sent him practically as soon as he had gotten to the Dursleys. It had beads hanging from the bottom fringe and still smelled faintly of sage and coriander. She told him it would soften the nightmares. She was sure he would have them when the shock of Cedric's death eased.
The last object was from Hermione. Another talisman against unpleasant dreams. She read about it in Romania and made it for him. It was a little face with feathers for hair and beard. It smiled benevolently at him.
Harry lay back on his bed feeling slightly guilty. What information could he have observed if he hadn't had them? Could they have caught Voldemort before now? Were his visions even true visions?
He stood, restlessly and jammed his feet back into his shoes. He thudded back own to the common room. People looked up as he entered.
He flopped back into the seat across from Neville.
"Neville, maybe I've changed my mind." He said.
Neville set down his cards and looked up. "All right." He sat back in his chair.
"I…"
Harry got no further. The portrait hole opened. Everyone in the room surged out of their chairs and stared into the open portal.
"Hermione." Harry cried. "Are you all right?"
She smiled wanly. "Yes. I had a cut is all." She gestured at the tattered sleeve of her robes. A white bandage could be seen through the bloody fabric.
"They sent me up to call the house down to dinner." She looked wearily around at the crowd that had quickly gathered around her. "The entry hall is finally clear. They had the prefects help with the wounded, or they would have sent word sooner. I can tell you that no one has died, and all students are accounted for."
"What about Ron?" Harry asked.
Suddenly more voices called out names. Hermione held up her hands.
"Quiet." She said. "The worst of the injured are in the hospital wing. The rest are in the Great Hall. Madame Pomphrey decided walking up and back would be too much for the recently injured. She wanted them where they could be watched."
"Ron?" Harry asked quietly.
She smiled. "He's fine. He broke his arm, I think. I last saw him helping Snape." She drew another deep breath, trembling. "I am so glad to see you safe, Harry. They were looking for you."
"I know." He shook his head. "I…"
Hermione cut him off with a wave of her hand. "Everyone should go down to dinner. I need to change. Go on, Harry, I'll catch up."
The crowd let her through, everyone starting to speak at once. Harry let the momentum of the group propel him down to the Great Hall.
*****
A/N - There, see, you didn't think I thought about why Harry had "Not a twinge all summer." Did you? It was just my pacifist nature or something, right? He he he.
I had this ready last night, but the site wouldn't let me post. Sigh.