A/N: I am working hard on this to finish before June 21st. The chapters are
hopefully getting longer to accommodate. Coffee helps. If you happen to see
a girl sitting in the corner of a coffeehouse at all hours writing
frantically in pencil on loose-leaf paper in a blue notebook and talking to
herself, come say hello to psychochick. And buy her more coffee.
Thanks to Raven Eades. She helps me when I'm stuck, inspires me to write faster, and overall encourages me to improve. These weekly writing sessions are really going to help both of us. I've worked out most of the twists and holes now, so these will be posted much faster.
Sorry, had to answer some reviews. I can't answer all of them, but some just really stand out and demand an answer. X13: interesting ideas, but no. RoniKa: Of course it's not right. So what? Am I wacko? No, I am not an Animaniac, and I do not know anybody named Yacko or Dot. However, as my penname proves, I am psycho. There's a difference. Von: Your review was wonderful, thank you. Yes, the clone problem is disturbing, and it's really not supposed to happen. You'll find out what's going on as the story progresses. And you were the only one who noticed that the Black Shadow was destroyed. *sniff* I liked that bike, I want my own, and then I went and blew it up. Ah, my love for explosives outweighs my affection for the bike. Much sadness. Istalksiriusonweekends: Interesting S/N. Maybe you should switch to weekdays. Sirius will still be around a few more times, don't worry.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. If you see something you don't recognize, it's a product of my twisted imagination and you can't use it. Now just read it, review it, and forego the lawyers.
Chapter 24
Voldemort was listening to the reports on the latest Muggle torture excursions when they were rudely interrupted by the door banging open. Instantly all wands were trained on the person who dared enter without permission, but the overly excited man who rushed in ignored them; in fact, he probably did not even register how close he was to being cursed into oblivion. Instead he scuttled forward and knelt at his Master's feet.
"Forgive me for my intrusion, my Lord, but I have important news." Voldemort recognized the Mid-Eastern scholar who had been so diligently working on the translation of the journal for the last two weeks with his hand picked team of linguists. He nodded slowly, and the wands were holstered a bit reluctantly. "What is it?" he said softly, but with a trace of impatient menace just to remind the man of his place.
"My Lord, we have made a breakthrough, and I believe that I have successfully translated the book." Voldemort's eyes widened as murmurs rippled through the few Death Eaters present, but he refused to let himself believe just yet. "How sure are you?" he hissed, and the man bravely met his eyes steadily as he answered confidently, "I stake my life on it." The Dark Lord smiled. "Good." He snapped once. "You are all dismissed." As the others present filed out, he turned to the scholar. "Show me."
They walked down through the stone corridors, the scholar explaining in brief some of the finer points of the translation and the origins of the runes. He broke off only to mutter the password to the dungeon wall, which slid aside to allow them entrance to a linguist's laboratory, filled with tables and bookshelves overflowing with every single type of written language and material available. Understandably, the other linguists on the project had made themselves scarce, just in case something went wrong and their Master had to vent his anger.
The scholar led Voldemort over to the center table, on which lay the original journal with its dazzling array of cryptic runes and a stack of parchment with the English translation. Voldemort flipped through it, making note of key passages and locations as red eyes skimmed quickly.
Ever since his Hogwarts days, he had prided himself on his rapid reading abilities and easy comprehension, and the scholar in him was stirred to life again by this document. It had been a long while since he had last taken pleasure in actually reading something, and he felt a strange thrill.
About halfway through he stopped, read carefully, then thumbed back a few pages to read the entire section in context. He looked up with a look of terrible excitement on his face. "I need a map," he breathed, and the scholar hurried to produce a current one and spread it out over another table. Voldemort's long finger drifted over the text then traced a route on the map while he mouthed to himself. The other man looked on anxiously, unconsciously wringing his hands.
Several tense minutes later, the Dark Lord tapped on one small dot in the middle of the ocean, the caption denoting it as "Easter Island." "Here it is," he hissed with triumph, and the scholar nodded thoughtfully, all nervousness forgotten as his brain processed the information.
"Easter Island. That makes sense, even more so than Stonehenge. It has a long and mysterious association with ancient magic, and not all of its secrets have been unraveled. The latest archeological reports gave indications of pre-Atlantean artifacts, so the journal . . ."
Voldemort simply ignored him as the man babbled on, preferring to read the rest of the translation silently, memorizing the keys. Finally he straightened with determination, crimson eyes gleaming like hellfire in his excitement. "You have done well," he informed the scholar. "You will receive the reward you were promised immediately." The man bowed reverently. "You are most generous, Master." Voldemort handed him a small bag and stalked out, the joyous exclamations from the room cut off by the dungeon door.
He headed up to the upper levels of his sanctum and stopped briefly at Lucius Malfoy's quarters. "I am going to claim my inheritance. You are responsible for controlling the demons and ensuring my plans are on schedule while I am away. Do not fail me." Lucius nodded once as was required of him, and Voldemort walked off, silently counting to see how long it would take the man to realize that he had no way of influencing the demons at all. A sudden shout behind him stopped the count at eleven, and he smirked evilly as he continued walking.
On the roof of his fortress, he raised his snakelike face to the overcast sky, felling the biting wind cut right into his bones. He didn't care; the elements were nothing to one such as him. Calling on his steadily increasing power, he created a rift in front of him and forced it to become a portal, a link of dark fire between him and his destination.
He felt the power surge through him, courtesy of his Master and the first talisman. He grinned with malevolent glee. How much his power would multiply when he returned with the second talisman, enabling the ritual? Nothing could stand in his way.
When the portal stabilized, Voldemort stepped through, and with a whirl of black fire disappeared.
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Harry stood at their worktable in Herbology after dinner, spreading manure at the base of their rhys plant carefully, adding in little caresses to the leaves to make the plant shiver and glow brighter with appreciation. Their project was doing well, even thriving under the care the group gave it every morning and night. Harry welcomed his times in the greenhouse, alone with something that didn't pity him or expect more than a little food, water and attention from him.
The other groups weren't too happy though, and he looked around taking note of the withered sad-looking plants, their leaves drooping despondently with just the faintest of sheen left. Most still hadn't figured out what the plants really liked for nourishment, and the foliage was suffering along with their grade.
He really shouldn't interfere with the other students' projects, but those plants, with their near-sentient and childlike qualities and presence, called to him in their misery. His Earth Elemental abilities made him especially sensitive to them. He hated to see them suffer.
He concentrated back on his plant again, struggling with himself as he absently ran a finger over its stem. It shivered again and leaned into him, then almost seemed to look up at him pleadingly. Or maybe his lack of sleep lately was playing tricks on his mind.
Sighing and glancing around to make sure he was alone, Harry walked around the tables, giving each rhys plant a little food and water as he ran his fingers lightly over the silver-green leaves. Each on responded to him, leaning closer as if yearning for more to ease their torment. He smiled a bit and briefly wished his life was so uncomplicated that a simple gesture of care and kindness could erase all his troubles.
"A smile. Haven't seen one of those for a while." Harry jumped, startled at the voice that spoke up behind him. Spinning around he saw Remus Lupin leaning against a table by the doorway, watching him with arms crossed over his chest. He looked down and headed back to his table, and Remus quirked a small smile of his own. "You weren't supposed to be messing with those, I presume."
Harry shook his head a bit. "No, but I couldn't stand to see them in pain. Not when I can help." He glanced up at his professor anxiously. "You won't report this to Professor Sprout, will you?"
The werewolf chuckled. "No. I didn't come down here to catch you, and besides, no harm done." His eyes picked out the plants which all perked up and were all glowing a bit brighter. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you." Harry glanced at him warily as he pulled off his gloves. "About what?"
Remus stepped forward and dropped his arms to regard the teen seriously. "How are you doing? I haven't really had a chance to talk to you since . . ." He trailed off, but they both knew what went unsaid.
Harry shrugged and busied himself with packing up his bag. "I should be asking you that." Remus placed both hands on Harry's shoulders and looked him in the eye. "Harry, I'm worried about you. I know it hurts, but you can talk to me. Please." Harry looked away with a sigh, and Remus tightened his grip.
"Please don't tell me you're still blaming yourself." The teen shook his head negatively. "No, I realized that Ron was right. It was an accident, and I did all I could. But . . ." He tensed his shoulders unconsciously, "Sometimes it doesn't feel like enough."
Remus took one hand off to give him a side arm hug. "Harry, I know. When your parents died, I doubted myself for months, thinking that if I had just done a little bit more, noticed something earlier or said something different, I could have prevented it. When people you love get hurt, everything you do never seems like enough." He sighed. "Just remember, no matter how powerful you are, you're not omnipotent. You're not invincible. Even you cannot stop death."
Harry idly brushed the leaf of a nearby rhys plant, watching its delighted reaction. "I know. But . . . I can't lose any of you. I don't want you or Hermione or any of the Weasleys to get hurt. I'm . . . I'm afraid that if I make a mistake, you all will suffer for it. I couldn't . . . I couldn't live with myself if . . ." He broke off, unable to continue around the lump in his throat. He seriously did not know whether or not he could go on if any of them died, and it scared him.
Remus tugged sharply at his braid to get his attention. "Is that all it's going to take for Voldemort to beat you? To take out the ones you care about? Listen to me. Do you think we're stupid and helpless?" Harry shook his head, and the man continued, "We all take risks willingly. We know what we're getting into. Sirius knew what he was getting into, and did it anyway. This war is bloody, and we knew going in that sacrifices would be required of all of us. Any of us will fight to the death if absolutely needed. You can try to protect us, but we all make our own choices."
He swallowed hard. "Freedom isn't free, and if the price of letting the world live in peace from Voldemort's ravages, of letting our children grow up without fear, if the price is my blood, I will gladly pay it. Mind you, I'd rather not, but still . . ." he gave a small rueful smile as he met Harry's green eyes to punctuate his statement. "Harry, stay your course. Fear is the source of depression and failure. You can end this war if you keep at it. Don't let Voldemort beat you by targeting the ones you love. Honor Sirius by caring enough to fight, as I will. As we all will."
Harry closed his eyes briefly, then nodded with determination, and Remus gave his shoulder another squeeze before he let go with a sad grin. He looked around, hoping to change the subject. "Are you done here?" "Yeah, just as soon as I put away the manure." They cleaned up together and walked out in companionable silence, starting towards the castle. Remus cleared his throat. "Speaking of future generations, how's it going with Ron and Hermione?" Harry rolled his eyes even as a smile tugged at his mouth.
"They're disgustingly happy and near perfect for each other. I wouldn't be surprised if they announced their engagement by the end of next year, which is just plain weird that I'm even thinking that, to tell the truth. The moment they start to use pet names, I'm going to hex them both. They flirt even when they're working on stuff for the Order now. And you heard about the penguin bowling incident. They love to bicker and pick fights just so they can make up. The fights are actually rather fun to watch, it's the aftermath I don't care to be present for."
Remus laughed heartily, lines clearing from his face to make him look twenty years younger, then threw him a teasing side glance. "And what about you, Mr. Potter? Any prospects? I know that Ginny has had her eye on you for years. And historically the Potters have a thing for redheads."
Harry shrugged uncomfortably. "Yeah, I know. And she's a good friend. We, uh, we actually talked about this the other night." Remus arched an eyebrow. "Really? What happened?" The War Mage actually blushed. "Well, she made it clear that she still likes me and uh," he coughed, "would like to be more, but is willing to stay friends."
He sighed, "Basically, she claims that it's hard to be friends sometimes because nobody really knows me, not even myself. And maybe she's right. I'm second guessing myself, unsure of how to react anymore because I'm doubting my own abilities. The clone problem really has me worried, but I can't figure out what's causing it or how to fix it."
Remus nodded thoughtfully. "So that's why you didn't join us the other night, huh? Just remember this very good piece of advice from Sun Tzu: 'Know your enemy and know yourself, and you need not fear the outcome of a thousand battles.' Be they battles of war or battles of the heart." His eyes twinkled in his serious face.
Harry shook his head. "I need to concentrate on the war before I can even begin to tread that path. I swear, by my observations a girl's heart can be more difficult and treacherous than any demon battle." Remus laughed outright at that. "Sometimes that is amazingly true. But I think Ron has it a bit easier with Hermione. Logic over hormones, for now in any case."
He sobered up a bit as he regarded the teen walking beside him. "Do you think you will ever find someone, like Ron found Hermione or James found Lily?" Harry shrugged as he watched his shoes, clearly uncomfortable. "I don't know. I guess . . . I've never really had a desire for that kind of a relationship. I mean, I notice the girls around me and appreciate their qualities, sometimes even an occasional dream, but I don't consider them as potential anything."
Remus nudged him a bit. "Are you telling me you play for a different team?" Harry wrinkled his nose. "No. That's just not right. It's just . . . have you ever had the feeling that . . . maybe you were meant to stay single, to be alone?"
Remus sighed and nodded. "Only all too well. Lycanthropy is hard to live with, and even harder on a partner. But sometimes I wish . . ." he trailed off wistfully, and for a few moments they walked in silence. Then he cleared his throat with a bit of difficulty. "The full moon is coming up."
Harry nodded and the werewolf continued, "It's a blue moon, the second one this month. Even with Eva's improved potion, I still can't be around humans. It's very uncomfortable, and it gets pretty lonely out there." He threw a side glance at the teen, a bit apprehensive.
"I was wondering . . . if you'd like . . . would you join me? I could show you some of the old paths that the Marauders found in the forest, and one of two new passageways that didn't make it onto the Map before it was confiscated." He unconsciously held his breath.
Harry looked at him in surprise, noting the slightly vulnerable look in his eyes, and abruptly knew what it was that drove his father and friends to spend the extra time and study and risk to become illegal Animagi. He smiled a bit as he said, "I'd be honored, Remus."
Clearly relieved and happily so, Remus clapped his shoulder as they reentered the castle. "Okay, Prongs Jr. We'll see what havoc we can wreck in one night to make your father and Sirius proud." Their quiet laughter echoed down the corridors.
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Over the next week Harry settled back into the routine of Hogwarts classes, and mercifully there were no new attacks to interrupt his time. But there was also a noticeable absence of most of the normal Death Eater shenanigans, both in Britain and on the Continent, and frankly it was making the Order nervous.
They were kept busy trying to uncover what was actually going on; the Dark forces were playing their cards a bit closer to their chests now. With Voldemort, no news is not necessarily good news. Harry had finally managed to give the Order all Detection Parchments, which should help the next time Voldemort's minions decided to show their masks.
During Transfiguration class one morning, Harry was at his desk with both Ron and Hermione as they discussed their project. Professor McGonagall was walking around answering individual questions about their requirements for her project, and Harry tiredly listened simultaneously to her explaining to Lavender and Neville the difficulties of cacti transfiguration, and his friends debating a technical point of the Animagus transformation that he wasn't quite following with his slowed brain responses.
He tried to stifle a yawn, but gave up at the attempt and yawned so hugely that he felt his jaw crack. He had been up all night with Remus during the full moon the night before, and together they had run deep into the forest, exploring with keen animal senses.
He had debated on which form to assume the entire day previously, then finally went to ask Remus who had given surprisingly simple advice. "Let the form choose you. That's what regular Animagi do, for the animal reflects their inner qualities and personality. This time, just concentrate on this adventure and let it guide you."
Harry smiled; they must have made quite a sight together, a silver wolf and a golden lion racing each other through the brambles. At first he had worried about the normal cat/dog animosity, but apparently the wolf accepted the lion as a friend, for Remus never complained. They had returned to the Hogwarts grounds at dawn, when the wolf became Remus once again. Harry had managed to snatch a couple hours of sleep before he had to dash off to Herbology.
Exhausted, he watched as Hermione picked up the rubber rat from her desk and absently began tossing it back and forth in her hands as she continued her argument with Ron. The movement seemed to distract Ron however, for he was now following the toy with his eyes rather than pay attention to her words.
Then quick as a Cornish pixie in second year DADA he snatched it form midair between her hands, and grinning began playing with it as she narrowed her eyes at him. She tried to grab it a couple times, but he was slightly faster than her and kept it just out of reach.
Suddenly Ron faltered and Hermione grabbed the rubber toy back with a triumphant grin, smugly spinning it from hand to hand. Looking down, Harry realized she had distracted him by kicking off her shoe and running her foot up his calf. Shaking his head with extreme amusement, he sat back to watch their game of flirting, the project completely forgotten. This was much more entertaining.
Hermione threw the rat at Ron, who barely caught it before it hit his nose. He toyed with it, then tossed it back at her and laughed when it smacked her shoulder before she caught it. They continued lobbing it back and forth playfully, and Harry was suddenly reminded of his knife throwing exhibition with his clone after Azkaban. The clone . . . he sighed as his mind drifted once again to that puzzle. They were one person in two bodies; it should have been impossible for one to separate from the other.
The sigh caught Ron's attention, and he threw the rat at Harry unexpectedly. The war mage started when it bounced off his forehead and then fell into his hands, and he looked up rather startled to see his friends smiling at him, clearly proud that they had managed to distract him.
He smiled back as he squeezed the rubber toy, then a stray thought suddenly occurred to him. "You know, we may have a problem with the project." Hermione immediately looked concerned, but he just smiled. "He's not getting his squeaker back." He squeezed it again for good measure. "Hope it was something important."
Ron looked torn between a laugh of amusement and sadness at the reference, and the resulting expression was rather strange. Harry shrugged. "We could always turn him back to see." Hermione opened her mouth to voice her opinion on that, but Harry suddenly chucked the toy at Ron with a little smile still in place. The redhead didn't react fast enough, and it hit his head and bounced off, only to fly over the desk behind them to land on Professor McGonagall's hat.
Immediately the three of them looked away and affected an air of innocence, which was disrupted by ill-concealed snorts of laughter. McGonagall, fortunately, didn't seem to notice as she continued her inspection around the room.
However, some of the other students noticed and little whispers and snickers were traveling around the class in no time. She heard that and frowned with disapproval. "What is so amusing, may I ask?" Lavender giggled, "Your hat, Professor." Confused the professor reached a hand to her hat. "What is wrong with it?"
Ron spoke up with his trademark grin. "Well Professor, we know that cats like rats, but do you really have to wear your food?" The entire class burst out laughing, and McGonagall pulled her hat off to find the rubber intruder staring back at her with glazed eyes, perched in the brim.
Censoriously she plucked it off and replaced her hat as she marched back over to the Trio's table and set it down in front of Hermione. "Next time, be more careful with this or I'll have to confiscate it." They nodded at her stern order, then the bell rang and the class scrambled for their bags to head to lunch.
Most of them were still laughing quietly as they settled down to lunch in the Great Hall. The three friends sat with Ginny, who arched an eyebrow at their guilty smiles. "Now what did you do?" she asked, and Hermione giggled. "Well, there was a little incident in Transfiguration."
Harry picked up the story, "See, there was a cat in a hat . . ." "With a rat who's a prat," Dean added, and Seamus piped up, "And the cat had a spat . . ." "When she found the rat in her hat," Ron finished with a grin. Hermione rolled her eyes and muttered, "Imagine that."
They all looked at each other then burst out laughing, but Ginny just shook her head and sniggered, "You guys have problems." As they settled into their meal, Hermione told her the story about the rat mishap while Harry yawned into his plate of sandwiches.
He took a few bites and realized that he'd rather be sleeping. He was so tired food just didn't sound appetizing, so he pushed his plate aside, laid his head on his arms and drifted off to sleep.
He was shaken awake by Ron only ten minutes before their DADA lesson, and as he stretched he felt surprisingly refreshed by the catnap. Picking up his bag, he hurried from the Hall after his friend to where Hermione was waiting for them. She started fussing over him, but he fended her off protesting, "I'm fine! I just didn't get much sleep last night."
Ron nodded as he placed an arm around her shoulders. "Remember, he went prowling with Remus last night. You should have seen him when he finally dragged himself in after sunrise. Leaves and twigs in his hair, big dark circles under his eyes, and the biggest stupid grin I've ever seen."
He had to duck as Harry threw a mock punch at his head, then put up his hand in surrender with a smile. "Hey, easy mate. I'm just saying you looked like you had a good time." Harry smiled back, "Yeah, it was fun." Ron's eyes glazed over slightly as a scheme ran through his head.
"Ginny's getting Animagus lessons, you know, and Hermione is the smartest thing on two legs. Two very nice looking legs, too," he added and his girlfriend blushed. Harry pretended to gag. "Maybe we should all try to be Animagi, then we can do stuff like that. You know, keep up the Marauder tradition . . ."
Hermione swatted his arm. "Ron! It's illegal, not to mention dangerous. They wouldn't allow it. Besides, it normally takes months or years to get it right. By the time we get it we'll be out of Hogwarts, and we'll have to register ourselves, and . . ." By now they were in the corridor leading to the DADA classroom, where the last few sixth year stragglers were rushing so as not to be late. They would make it just before the bell, and their steps sped up even as she continued pointing out the flaws in his idea.
Right in the middle of her lecture, a sharp pain lanced through Harry' scar suddenly, and caught off guard he stopped walking and pressed a hand to his forehead. It was worsening in waves, and he bit back a yell as he wavered dizzily, his vision blurring a bit. Ahead of him, Ron noticed that Harry wasn't with them and turned, and his eyes widened when he realized what the problem was.
He hurried over, inquiring, "Harry?" but the black haired teen couldn't hear him anymore. The scene swam and faded before his eyes as he fought against the pain, but then an especially agonizing stab pierced right through his brain, and he collapsed into blackness.
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Harry materialized into a place of near pure darkness, and with a single glance at the ground he groaned. He was in the Dream Stand. Frantically he tried to recall what he had done to escape last time, but he didn't know how exactly he had called up that light. He spun, eyes trying to pierce the gloom as he call, "I know you're there. Quit hiding." With surprising rapidity, Voldemort stepped out in front of him, glaring with those evil red eyes.
Harry stomped down on his nervousness at the lack of preliminaries; clearly the Dark Lord wasn't in a good mood. For a long time the two mortal enemies glared at each other, the tension as palatable as the surface rippling beneath their feet. Finally Voldemort broke the silence with an icy hiss. "Where is it?"
"Where's what?" Harry replied, even though he had a fairly good idea. The creature before him literally snarled at him, showing off rotted pointy teeth. "The talisman, you insolent brat. I know you know."
The teen War Mage thought quickly, trying to plot the best course of action for this situation. Distract him. He taunted, "Lost track of it, have you? Too bad. Maybe you should put new locks on your doors."
Voldemort's eyes flamed with hatred. "You have the second one, I know it. Hand it over quietly and you will live another day. Refuse, and I will still find it, after walking over the bodies of all your friends. Sirius Black was only the first."
Harry scowled darkly. "Don't think so." He circled warily away from his enemy. "Tell me, did you have a good time getting through the obstacles? I found them rather easy." The long fingered white hands clenched into fists, and he noticed with some satisfaction the dark puncture wounds from multiple snakebites. Good, the snakes had remembered his order and obeyed. Too bad they couldn't finish him off.
Voldemort's voice was soft and deadly when he spoke. "Ten days. Ten days of mental and physical suffering, of frustration and setbacks, of exhaustion and pain. Only to find that my prize had been stolen. And you dare taunt me?"
With a flick several curses flew straight at Harry, and he dove and rolled to avoid them. "Where is the talisman?" The teen jumped again, dodging more wandless curses and spells, and uneasily he saw how much his power had grown from last time.
"Where is it?!" Voldemort roared, and abruptly the floor rippled violently, extended a long black tendril and cracked it like a whip. Harry was desperately trying to avoid the whip and the spells, so he didn't see the wall that grew at his back until he smashed into it.
Instantly the whip caught him across the ribs, and he groaned as he felt several crack and give way painfully. The groans turned to stifled screams as a powerful Cruciatus hit him, wracking his entire body with pain. Gritting his teeth, Harry slammed up mental blocks on the pain and got back to his feet, fists clenched. Voldemort was starting to sound like a broken record when he demanded, "Where is it?!" Harry shot back, "Blown to hell. Why don't you go look for it?"
The Dark Lord narrowed his eyes venomously. "Nice try. But you still have it. Now where is it?" The whip flashed out of nowhere, catching around Harry's legs and flipping him into the air upside down. He gasped as rivulets of icy cold ran through his body, emanating from the black band encircling his ankles.
He shuddered violently, trying to fight back, but as the cold reached his chest he felt his heart slowing, blood moving more and more sluggishly. It felt like the band was wrapped around his chest now, freezing him and suffocating him slowly, painfully. His vision flickered, and he though he saw a warm light, promising heat and air, so he reached for it.
Just before his fingers could touch, the band released and Harry felt himself falling, barely registering before he slammed into the black surface. He landed hard on his left shoulder, and with a distant crack that entire side erupted with fiery pain.
He bit his lip to keep from crying out and forced himself not to feel it even as sharp points of splintered bone dug into his skin from underneath. Blearily he saw Voldemort raise his hand and incant, "Crucio Maximus!"
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As Harry collapsed in the corridor, Ron closed the last few steps at a run and caught him before he hit the ground. Trying to reign in his panic, he yelled back at Hermione, "Get Professor Lupin! Hurry!" Luckily the door was open and the entire class heard, including the professor, and within seconds they all crowded into the corridor. Remus pushed through and knelt beside the two boys. "What happened?" he asked urgently.
Ron cradled Harry's head in his lap, shaking him gently and scared out of his wits by the dull glaze over the open green eyes. "Right before we got to the door, I saw that Harry had fallen behind. His scar was hurting, he had his hand pressed to it, then he just fell."
The teen's blue eyes looked up at the lycanthrope pleadingly. "What's wrong with him?" Remus checked Harry's pulse and frowned as he shook his head. "His heart's racing. It shouldn't be if he's unconscious. What the . . ."
Just then Harry jerked in Ron's arms and a loud crack echoed down the corridor. He twitched again, then let out a bitten-off yell as he started spasming, writhing on the floor convulsively. Ron tried to hold him still with Hermione's help to keep him from hurting himself as the other students back away in trepidation, muttering among themselves. As suddenly as it started the fit passed, and Harry lay tensely still with unfocused eyes wide open, breathing hard.
Remus turned to the students and ordered sharply, "Someone go fetch Professor McGonagall and the Headmaster! Oh, and Madame Pomfrey too! Now!" Immediately three people took off running down the corridor. Hermione knelt by Ron's side, her hand at Harry's neck checking his pulse in alarm.
"His pulse is getting weaker," she reported apprehensively, and Ron could feel it as his friend's breathing slowed and his skin grew cold. He yelled frantically, "Harry! Listen to me, Harry, fight it! C'mon, wake up!"
Another loud crack followed by several pops made them jump, and Harry went limp at his left arm and shoulder torqued around sickeningly, several bones clearly broken and jutting against the skin in places. Ron was horrified as he watched it happen literally in front of his nose for no apparent reason, and Hermione turned wide alarmed eyes to Remus and whispered, "What's happening to him?" Remus could only shake his head helplessly. "I've never seen something like this before."
A flurry of robes announced the arrivals of the three students and two professors, followed closely by the nurse. Dumbledore's eyes went wide when he saw the scene, and Remus started, "Albus, he . . ." but was cut off when Harry jerked violently and began to scream.
Ron could no longer hold onto him as he thrashed wildly, hoarse agonized screams torn from his lips echoing down the corridor like a banshee. The students shrank back to the walls in terror as the professors watched wide- eyed and helpless. Harry's nose began to bleed, then with an extra shriek his infamous scar lanced over with a rip to ooze crimson.
As the seizure continued, little cuts appeared all over his skin and blood was soon smeared all over his body. His back arched up painfully, then abruptly he collapsed back again, panting as small aftershocks wracked him. Hermione immediately bent back over him, checking his pulse again and ignoring the blood now streaking her hands.
She didn't like what she found. "No! Harry, don't you dare! Wake up!" she yelled at him, and Ron touched his face. "He's going cold," he reported grimly, and she tried rubbing at his chest. "He's fading." Madame Pomfrey shoved forward to kneel by them, waving her wand over his prone body.
The group was silent as they watched and prayed, unsure of what was going on. Harry just lay there with his eyes open and fixed, unaware of his surroundings. The nurse placed a hand at his neck, on his chest then in front of his mouth. She looked up with panic at the Headmaster. "Albus, he's not breathing."
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In the Dream Stand, Voldemort held Harry under the modified Cruciatus for several long minutes, the teen unable to focus past the pain long enough to stop it. He could fee every single cell of his body wracked with fire and ice, could feel the blood dripping down his face, the skin tearing itself apart from the energy coursing through him to leak out more blood. His body wasn't under his control any longer, and that helpless feeling was somehow worse than the pain. He was screaming so loud he wouldn't be surprised if they had heard it several dimensions away.
When the curse finally lifted he lay there panting, choking on the copper taste of blood in his mouth. He rolled over weakly and spit it out, swiping at the liquid flowing into his eyes with a shaking hand. His whole body shook from the aftereffects, nerves misfiring as connections tried to reestablish their normal routes after such a disruption.
Suddenly he was being pulled backwards by his legs, and the black floor rippled again to lash him tightly down by his wrists and ankles. Quick as a flash he lay helpless on the strange black surface, laid out like a pagan sacrifice.
Harry struggled weakly, but the effort was futile for the manacles only tightened until he couldn't move an inch, and he suppressed a shiver. Not only from the ice once again creeping through his body, but being tied up always reminded him of that night in the graveyard, and more distantly of an incident with Dudley and Piers. He couldn't have been more than five at the time . . .
A sharp slap on the face made him aware of Voldemort's presence, and he cracked open his eyes to see that nightmare face hovering uncomfortable close above him. "Harry Potter," the Dark Lord hissed, and Harry gagged at the stench of decay.
"You don't like being restrained, do you? I could continue torturing you here until your mind breaks. And your friends back at Hogwarts will only be able to watch helplessly, unknowing." He gripped the boy's chin with one long-fingered hand and stared straight into his eyes.
"Where is the talisman? Tell me and I will release you." Harry struggled for breath and managed to whisper, "No." The hand tightened until he was sure his jaw would break. "You know what my followers did to the Longbottoms, right after that Halloween. Driven insane until they cannot even recognize themselves, let alone their offspring. Would you like that to happen to you? While their pathetically inept son looked on? Tell me and spare him and yourself. Where is it?"
Harry could barely hear him through the roaring of ice in his ears, and could have sworn that in his veins flowed not blood, but crystallized ice water. His whole body throbbed with pain and bitter cold; he couldn't breathe, couldn't move, couldn't even think any more. His body was shutting down, spots danced in front of his eyes, and then he saw that light again, so warm and promising and oh so close now.
He smiled vaguely, his lips and teeth coated with blood, and murmured, "If you want it, come and get it." Ignoring his enemy crouching over him, he reached out for that light, and it came and enveloped him soothingly.
He closed his eyes, felt the bonds fall away, heard Voldemort roar with fury greater than a star explosion, then he was gone, flying away in that light.
*******************
Harry felt at peace, warm and comfortable, away from everything that had ever troubled him. He breathed in a great sigh of relief, happy he could breathe again so freely. Curious, he opened his eyes to find himself on a grassy plain, a city in the distance.
He squinted; was that the city of the Guardians? No, it couldn't be. It was similar yet subtly different, and the air didn't have the same feel of magic to it, the infusion of countless millennia of powerful beings. Where was he then?
He drew in another wonderfully clean gulp of oxygen and decided her didn't much care. But something still felt wrong, something he couldn't put his finger on. Suddenly he jumped when a very familiar voice yelled out behind him, "Harry?!" He spun, disbelieving, and gaped at the impossible sight before his eyes. Now he know what was so very wrong. "Sirius?!" he breathed incredulously.
His eyes were fixed on the man standing not ten feet from him, a completely impossible apparition. Yet there he was in the flesh, just like the last time Harry had seen him alive, before that night. Then his gaze was drawn to the man's two companions, and he swallowed hard. "Mum? Dad?"
They were staring back at him, conflicting emotions darting across their faces, then Lily settled on an amazed smile filled with motherly pride. "Harry!" She held her arms out to him, open ready to catch him up in a tremendous hug of acceptance. James beamed at him with one arm wrapped around his wife's waist and the other beckoning him closer.
A storm of emotions raged through Harry, but at the sight of his parents smiling at him, relief swept through him and he walked towards them, ready to find refuge in their embrace.
Yet he had only taken one step when abruptly the scene faded to blackness, and he was floating through nothingness. "No!" he yelled out frantically, "NO!" He fought against it, searching for a way out of this non-place.
He hated it; he'd even go back to the Dream Stand rather than remain. Concentrating, he could hear a very faint voice calling something, maybe his name. unsure of who it was, he nevertheless followed the sound until the blackness around him changed from nothingness to consciousness. Senses returned in a rush.
His legs lay on cold stone, but the upper part of him was cradled by two warm bodies. He identified the voice: Ron, yelling desperately at him and shaking his unhurt shoulder. Hermione was on the other side, speaking softly as he hand ran over his face wiping up the blood.
His eyes were open but unfocused, and felt very dry and gritty. He blinked twice, trying to focus, and Ron stopped his actions. "Harry, you there?" he asked softly, a sharp contrast to his yelling but with the same concern shading his voice.
Harry swallowed and tried to speak, but abruptly realized he had just swallowed a mouthful of blood. He coughed, choking, and tears ran from his eyes. People crowded around him, pressing closer and asking multitudes of questions in gibbering voices.
It was overwhelming: suddenly violently claustrophobic, he jerked away from restraining hands and shoved to his feet, and amidst startled babbling all around him, bolted down the corridor, pushing past anything in his way. A suit of armor clattered down behind him, but he didn't notice.
He had no clear concept of where he was; he was just acting instinctively, letting his feet carry him away, far away from that corridor and those people. Spotting a familiar door, he stumbled through into the boys' lavatory. Dazedly he went into the nearest stall, fell to his knees and proceeded to wring his guts dry into the bowl, vaguely noticing the red blood mixing with the pitiful remains of his lunch.
A slamming noise echoed through his ears to herald the arrival of several onlookers, probably his friends and the professors, and Harry retched again as a fresh bout of nausea claimed his attention. Hermione wetted a towel and pressed it to the back of his neck while she rubbed his back in soothing circles, and gradually the dry heaves faded.
Ron silently offered him a glass of water, and Harry rinsed out his mouth before easing his throat with the cool water. He must have screamed it bloody, and bile didn't help. He was still too shaken to get his mental blocks up against the pain.
He leaned back against the wooden wall with exhaustion, but hissed as his shoulder came in contact with the hard unforgiving surface. Wincing, he got to his feet and stumbled over to the sink, using his one good hand to splash water on his face, which dripped off red onto the white porcelain. He did it a few more times until the water stayed clear.
Dumbledore approached him warily. "Harry, are you all right?" The teen War Mage shook his head wearily as he leaned on the sink, refusing to look into the mirror. "What happened?" He cleared his throat painfully and croaked, "Voldemort . . . Dream Stand . . . talisman . . . he knows."
He rubbed a hand over his eyes as the people present gasped a bit. "Voldemort tried to get the talisman, that's why he's been laying low for the past week or so. He's furious that I'd beaten him to it. He wants it, and now he knows that I still have it." He started to sigh, but it turned into a groan as his ribs and shoulder protested vehemently.
He wavered, but Ron and Hermione were right there to support him. "Thanks," he mumbled. Madame Pomfrey stepped forward, took one good look at him and commanded, "Hospital Wing, Mr. Potter." He simply nodded, causing his head to throb mercilessly, and allowed his friends to help him.
As they walked together through the corridors, Ron kept stealing side glances at Harry, who finally just said, "What?" The redhead seemed to steel himself, then asked, "Harry, what did he do to you? From what we saw, it wasn't pretty." Harry silently agreed and just leaned on him a bit more, thankful for his strength and friendship. Hermione had her arm around his waist to help him walk, and her concern for him eased a bit of the pain still wracking him. She looked up to meet his eyes with her own frightened ones.
"Harry, I don't know . . . what all happened back there, but . . ." she sniffed, "we were afraid we were going to lose you. It was horrible." She tightened her arm briefly in a hug, as if to reassure herself that he was there.
"At one point . . . you stopped breathing, and you were so cold . . . we thought you were dead." Hermione sniffed, but held in her tears by sheer willpower. Harry raised his head, eyes glazed over and haunted. He whispered so softly that they both had to strain to hear him, but what he said chilled them to their bones.
"I . . . I think I was."
Thanks to Raven Eades. She helps me when I'm stuck, inspires me to write faster, and overall encourages me to improve. These weekly writing sessions are really going to help both of us. I've worked out most of the twists and holes now, so these will be posted much faster.
Sorry, had to answer some reviews. I can't answer all of them, but some just really stand out and demand an answer. X13: interesting ideas, but no. RoniKa: Of course it's not right. So what? Am I wacko? No, I am not an Animaniac, and I do not know anybody named Yacko or Dot. However, as my penname proves, I am psycho. There's a difference. Von: Your review was wonderful, thank you. Yes, the clone problem is disturbing, and it's really not supposed to happen. You'll find out what's going on as the story progresses. And you were the only one who noticed that the Black Shadow was destroyed. *sniff* I liked that bike, I want my own, and then I went and blew it up. Ah, my love for explosives outweighs my affection for the bike. Much sadness. Istalksiriusonweekends: Interesting S/N. Maybe you should switch to weekdays. Sirius will still be around a few more times, don't worry.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. If you see something you don't recognize, it's a product of my twisted imagination and you can't use it. Now just read it, review it, and forego the lawyers.
Chapter 24
Voldemort was listening to the reports on the latest Muggle torture excursions when they were rudely interrupted by the door banging open. Instantly all wands were trained on the person who dared enter without permission, but the overly excited man who rushed in ignored them; in fact, he probably did not even register how close he was to being cursed into oblivion. Instead he scuttled forward and knelt at his Master's feet.
"Forgive me for my intrusion, my Lord, but I have important news." Voldemort recognized the Mid-Eastern scholar who had been so diligently working on the translation of the journal for the last two weeks with his hand picked team of linguists. He nodded slowly, and the wands were holstered a bit reluctantly. "What is it?" he said softly, but with a trace of impatient menace just to remind the man of his place.
"My Lord, we have made a breakthrough, and I believe that I have successfully translated the book." Voldemort's eyes widened as murmurs rippled through the few Death Eaters present, but he refused to let himself believe just yet. "How sure are you?" he hissed, and the man bravely met his eyes steadily as he answered confidently, "I stake my life on it." The Dark Lord smiled. "Good." He snapped once. "You are all dismissed." As the others present filed out, he turned to the scholar. "Show me."
They walked down through the stone corridors, the scholar explaining in brief some of the finer points of the translation and the origins of the runes. He broke off only to mutter the password to the dungeon wall, which slid aside to allow them entrance to a linguist's laboratory, filled with tables and bookshelves overflowing with every single type of written language and material available. Understandably, the other linguists on the project had made themselves scarce, just in case something went wrong and their Master had to vent his anger.
The scholar led Voldemort over to the center table, on which lay the original journal with its dazzling array of cryptic runes and a stack of parchment with the English translation. Voldemort flipped through it, making note of key passages and locations as red eyes skimmed quickly.
Ever since his Hogwarts days, he had prided himself on his rapid reading abilities and easy comprehension, and the scholar in him was stirred to life again by this document. It had been a long while since he had last taken pleasure in actually reading something, and he felt a strange thrill.
About halfway through he stopped, read carefully, then thumbed back a few pages to read the entire section in context. He looked up with a look of terrible excitement on his face. "I need a map," he breathed, and the scholar hurried to produce a current one and spread it out over another table. Voldemort's long finger drifted over the text then traced a route on the map while he mouthed to himself. The other man looked on anxiously, unconsciously wringing his hands.
Several tense minutes later, the Dark Lord tapped on one small dot in the middle of the ocean, the caption denoting it as "Easter Island." "Here it is," he hissed with triumph, and the scholar nodded thoughtfully, all nervousness forgotten as his brain processed the information.
"Easter Island. That makes sense, even more so than Stonehenge. It has a long and mysterious association with ancient magic, and not all of its secrets have been unraveled. The latest archeological reports gave indications of pre-Atlantean artifacts, so the journal . . ."
Voldemort simply ignored him as the man babbled on, preferring to read the rest of the translation silently, memorizing the keys. Finally he straightened with determination, crimson eyes gleaming like hellfire in his excitement. "You have done well," he informed the scholar. "You will receive the reward you were promised immediately." The man bowed reverently. "You are most generous, Master." Voldemort handed him a small bag and stalked out, the joyous exclamations from the room cut off by the dungeon door.
He headed up to the upper levels of his sanctum and stopped briefly at Lucius Malfoy's quarters. "I am going to claim my inheritance. You are responsible for controlling the demons and ensuring my plans are on schedule while I am away. Do not fail me." Lucius nodded once as was required of him, and Voldemort walked off, silently counting to see how long it would take the man to realize that he had no way of influencing the demons at all. A sudden shout behind him stopped the count at eleven, and he smirked evilly as he continued walking.
On the roof of his fortress, he raised his snakelike face to the overcast sky, felling the biting wind cut right into his bones. He didn't care; the elements were nothing to one such as him. Calling on his steadily increasing power, he created a rift in front of him and forced it to become a portal, a link of dark fire between him and his destination.
He felt the power surge through him, courtesy of his Master and the first talisman. He grinned with malevolent glee. How much his power would multiply when he returned with the second talisman, enabling the ritual? Nothing could stand in his way.
When the portal stabilized, Voldemort stepped through, and with a whirl of black fire disappeared.
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Harry stood at their worktable in Herbology after dinner, spreading manure at the base of their rhys plant carefully, adding in little caresses to the leaves to make the plant shiver and glow brighter with appreciation. Their project was doing well, even thriving under the care the group gave it every morning and night. Harry welcomed his times in the greenhouse, alone with something that didn't pity him or expect more than a little food, water and attention from him.
The other groups weren't too happy though, and he looked around taking note of the withered sad-looking plants, their leaves drooping despondently with just the faintest of sheen left. Most still hadn't figured out what the plants really liked for nourishment, and the foliage was suffering along with their grade.
He really shouldn't interfere with the other students' projects, but those plants, with their near-sentient and childlike qualities and presence, called to him in their misery. His Earth Elemental abilities made him especially sensitive to them. He hated to see them suffer.
He concentrated back on his plant again, struggling with himself as he absently ran a finger over its stem. It shivered again and leaned into him, then almost seemed to look up at him pleadingly. Or maybe his lack of sleep lately was playing tricks on his mind.
Sighing and glancing around to make sure he was alone, Harry walked around the tables, giving each rhys plant a little food and water as he ran his fingers lightly over the silver-green leaves. Each on responded to him, leaning closer as if yearning for more to ease their torment. He smiled a bit and briefly wished his life was so uncomplicated that a simple gesture of care and kindness could erase all his troubles.
"A smile. Haven't seen one of those for a while." Harry jumped, startled at the voice that spoke up behind him. Spinning around he saw Remus Lupin leaning against a table by the doorway, watching him with arms crossed over his chest. He looked down and headed back to his table, and Remus quirked a small smile of his own. "You weren't supposed to be messing with those, I presume."
Harry shook his head a bit. "No, but I couldn't stand to see them in pain. Not when I can help." He glanced up at his professor anxiously. "You won't report this to Professor Sprout, will you?"
The werewolf chuckled. "No. I didn't come down here to catch you, and besides, no harm done." His eyes picked out the plants which all perked up and were all glowing a bit brighter. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you." Harry glanced at him warily as he pulled off his gloves. "About what?"
Remus stepped forward and dropped his arms to regard the teen seriously. "How are you doing? I haven't really had a chance to talk to you since . . ." He trailed off, but they both knew what went unsaid.
Harry shrugged and busied himself with packing up his bag. "I should be asking you that." Remus placed both hands on Harry's shoulders and looked him in the eye. "Harry, I'm worried about you. I know it hurts, but you can talk to me. Please." Harry looked away with a sigh, and Remus tightened his grip.
"Please don't tell me you're still blaming yourself." The teen shook his head negatively. "No, I realized that Ron was right. It was an accident, and I did all I could. But . . ." He tensed his shoulders unconsciously, "Sometimes it doesn't feel like enough."
Remus took one hand off to give him a side arm hug. "Harry, I know. When your parents died, I doubted myself for months, thinking that if I had just done a little bit more, noticed something earlier or said something different, I could have prevented it. When people you love get hurt, everything you do never seems like enough." He sighed. "Just remember, no matter how powerful you are, you're not omnipotent. You're not invincible. Even you cannot stop death."
Harry idly brushed the leaf of a nearby rhys plant, watching its delighted reaction. "I know. But . . . I can't lose any of you. I don't want you or Hermione or any of the Weasleys to get hurt. I'm . . . I'm afraid that if I make a mistake, you all will suffer for it. I couldn't . . . I couldn't live with myself if . . ." He broke off, unable to continue around the lump in his throat. He seriously did not know whether or not he could go on if any of them died, and it scared him.
Remus tugged sharply at his braid to get his attention. "Is that all it's going to take for Voldemort to beat you? To take out the ones you care about? Listen to me. Do you think we're stupid and helpless?" Harry shook his head, and the man continued, "We all take risks willingly. We know what we're getting into. Sirius knew what he was getting into, and did it anyway. This war is bloody, and we knew going in that sacrifices would be required of all of us. Any of us will fight to the death if absolutely needed. You can try to protect us, but we all make our own choices."
He swallowed hard. "Freedom isn't free, and if the price of letting the world live in peace from Voldemort's ravages, of letting our children grow up without fear, if the price is my blood, I will gladly pay it. Mind you, I'd rather not, but still . . ." he gave a small rueful smile as he met Harry's green eyes to punctuate his statement. "Harry, stay your course. Fear is the source of depression and failure. You can end this war if you keep at it. Don't let Voldemort beat you by targeting the ones you love. Honor Sirius by caring enough to fight, as I will. As we all will."
Harry closed his eyes briefly, then nodded with determination, and Remus gave his shoulder another squeeze before he let go with a sad grin. He looked around, hoping to change the subject. "Are you done here?" "Yeah, just as soon as I put away the manure." They cleaned up together and walked out in companionable silence, starting towards the castle. Remus cleared his throat. "Speaking of future generations, how's it going with Ron and Hermione?" Harry rolled his eyes even as a smile tugged at his mouth.
"They're disgustingly happy and near perfect for each other. I wouldn't be surprised if they announced their engagement by the end of next year, which is just plain weird that I'm even thinking that, to tell the truth. The moment they start to use pet names, I'm going to hex them both. They flirt even when they're working on stuff for the Order now. And you heard about the penguin bowling incident. They love to bicker and pick fights just so they can make up. The fights are actually rather fun to watch, it's the aftermath I don't care to be present for."
Remus laughed heartily, lines clearing from his face to make him look twenty years younger, then threw him a teasing side glance. "And what about you, Mr. Potter? Any prospects? I know that Ginny has had her eye on you for years. And historically the Potters have a thing for redheads."
Harry shrugged uncomfortably. "Yeah, I know. And she's a good friend. We, uh, we actually talked about this the other night." Remus arched an eyebrow. "Really? What happened?" The War Mage actually blushed. "Well, she made it clear that she still likes me and uh," he coughed, "would like to be more, but is willing to stay friends."
He sighed, "Basically, she claims that it's hard to be friends sometimes because nobody really knows me, not even myself. And maybe she's right. I'm second guessing myself, unsure of how to react anymore because I'm doubting my own abilities. The clone problem really has me worried, but I can't figure out what's causing it or how to fix it."
Remus nodded thoughtfully. "So that's why you didn't join us the other night, huh? Just remember this very good piece of advice from Sun Tzu: 'Know your enemy and know yourself, and you need not fear the outcome of a thousand battles.' Be they battles of war or battles of the heart." His eyes twinkled in his serious face.
Harry shook his head. "I need to concentrate on the war before I can even begin to tread that path. I swear, by my observations a girl's heart can be more difficult and treacherous than any demon battle." Remus laughed outright at that. "Sometimes that is amazingly true. But I think Ron has it a bit easier with Hermione. Logic over hormones, for now in any case."
He sobered up a bit as he regarded the teen walking beside him. "Do you think you will ever find someone, like Ron found Hermione or James found Lily?" Harry shrugged as he watched his shoes, clearly uncomfortable. "I don't know. I guess . . . I've never really had a desire for that kind of a relationship. I mean, I notice the girls around me and appreciate their qualities, sometimes even an occasional dream, but I don't consider them as potential anything."
Remus nudged him a bit. "Are you telling me you play for a different team?" Harry wrinkled his nose. "No. That's just not right. It's just . . . have you ever had the feeling that . . . maybe you were meant to stay single, to be alone?"
Remus sighed and nodded. "Only all too well. Lycanthropy is hard to live with, and even harder on a partner. But sometimes I wish . . ." he trailed off wistfully, and for a few moments they walked in silence. Then he cleared his throat with a bit of difficulty. "The full moon is coming up."
Harry nodded and the werewolf continued, "It's a blue moon, the second one this month. Even with Eva's improved potion, I still can't be around humans. It's very uncomfortable, and it gets pretty lonely out there." He threw a side glance at the teen, a bit apprehensive.
"I was wondering . . . if you'd like . . . would you join me? I could show you some of the old paths that the Marauders found in the forest, and one of two new passageways that didn't make it onto the Map before it was confiscated." He unconsciously held his breath.
Harry looked at him in surprise, noting the slightly vulnerable look in his eyes, and abruptly knew what it was that drove his father and friends to spend the extra time and study and risk to become illegal Animagi. He smiled a bit as he said, "I'd be honored, Remus."
Clearly relieved and happily so, Remus clapped his shoulder as they reentered the castle. "Okay, Prongs Jr. We'll see what havoc we can wreck in one night to make your father and Sirius proud." Their quiet laughter echoed down the corridors.
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Over the next week Harry settled back into the routine of Hogwarts classes, and mercifully there were no new attacks to interrupt his time. But there was also a noticeable absence of most of the normal Death Eater shenanigans, both in Britain and on the Continent, and frankly it was making the Order nervous.
They were kept busy trying to uncover what was actually going on; the Dark forces were playing their cards a bit closer to their chests now. With Voldemort, no news is not necessarily good news. Harry had finally managed to give the Order all Detection Parchments, which should help the next time Voldemort's minions decided to show their masks.
During Transfiguration class one morning, Harry was at his desk with both Ron and Hermione as they discussed their project. Professor McGonagall was walking around answering individual questions about their requirements for her project, and Harry tiredly listened simultaneously to her explaining to Lavender and Neville the difficulties of cacti transfiguration, and his friends debating a technical point of the Animagus transformation that he wasn't quite following with his slowed brain responses.
He tried to stifle a yawn, but gave up at the attempt and yawned so hugely that he felt his jaw crack. He had been up all night with Remus during the full moon the night before, and together they had run deep into the forest, exploring with keen animal senses.
He had debated on which form to assume the entire day previously, then finally went to ask Remus who had given surprisingly simple advice. "Let the form choose you. That's what regular Animagi do, for the animal reflects their inner qualities and personality. This time, just concentrate on this adventure and let it guide you."
Harry smiled; they must have made quite a sight together, a silver wolf and a golden lion racing each other through the brambles. At first he had worried about the normal cat/dog animosity, but apparently the wolf accepted the lion as a friend, for Remus never complained. They had returned to the Hogwarts grounds at dawn, when the wolf became Remus once again. Harry had managed to snatch a couple hours of sleep before he had to dash off to Herbology.
Exhausted, he watched as Hermione picked up the rubber rat from her desk and absently began tossing it back and forth in her hands as she continued her argument with Ron. The movement seemed to distract Ron however, for he was now following the toy with his eyes rather than pay attention to her words.
Then quick as a Cornish pixie in second year DADA he snatched it form midair between her hands, and grinning began playing with it as she narrowed her eyes at him. She tried to grab it a couple times, but he was slightly faster than her and kept it just out of reach.
Suddenly Ron faltered and Hermione grabbed the rubber toy back with a triumphant grin, smugly spinning it from hand to hand. Looking down, Harry realized she had distracted him by kicking off her shoe and running her foot up his calf. Shaking his head with extreme amusement, he sat back to watch their game of flirting, the project completely forgotten. This was much more entertaining.
Hermione threw the rat at Ron, who barely caught it before it hit his nose. He toyed with it, then tossed it back at her and laughed when it smacked her shoulder before she caught it. They continued lobbing it back and forth playfully, and Harry was suddenly reminded of his knife throwing exhibition with his clone after Azkaban. The clone . . . he sighed as his mind drifted once again to that puzzle. They were one person in two bodies; it should have been impossible for one to separate from the other.
The sigh caught Ron's attention, and he threw the rat at Harry unexpectedly. The war mage started when it bounced off his forehead and then fell into his hands, and he looked up rather startled to see his friends smiling at him, clearly proud that they had managed to distract him.
He smiled back as he squeezed the rubber toy, then a stray thought suddenly occurred to him. "You know, we may have a problem with the project." Hermione immediately looked concerned, but he just smiled. "He's not getting his squeaker back." He squeezed it again for good measure. "Hope it was something important."
Ron looked torn between a laugh of amusement and sadness at the reference, and the resulting expression was rather strange. Harry shrugged. "We could always turn him back to see." Hermione opened her mouth to voice her opinion on that, but Harry suddenly chucked the toy at Ron with a little smile still in place. The redhead didn't react fast enough, and it hit his head and bounced off, only to fly over the desk behind them to land on Professor McGonagall's hat.
Immediately the three of them looked away and affected an air of innocence, which was disrupted by ill-concealed snorts of laughter. McGonagall, fortunately, didn't seem to notice as she continued her inspection around the room.
However, some of the other students noticed and little whispers and snickers were traveling around the class in no time. She heard that and frowned with disapproval. "What is so amusing, may I ask?" Lavender giggled, "Your hat, Professor." Confused the professor reached a hand to her hat. "What is wrong with it?"
Ron spoke up with his trademark grin. "Well Professor, we know that cats like rats, but do you really have to wear your food?" The entire class burst out laughing, and McGonagall pulled her hat off to find the rubber intruder staring back at her with glazed eyes, perched in the brim.
Censoriously she plucked it off and replaced her hat as she marched back over to the Trio's table and set it down in front of Hermione. "Next time, be more careful with this or I'll have to confiscate it." They nodded at her stern order, then the bell rang and the class scrambled for their bags to head to lunch.
Most of them were still laughing quietly as they settled down to lunch in the Great Hall. The three friends sat with Ginny, who arched an eyebrow at their guilty smiles. "Now what did you do?" she asked, and Hermione giggled. "Well, there was a little incident in Transfiguration."
Harry picked up the story, "See, there was a cat in a hat . . ." "With a rat who's a prat," Dean added, and Seamus piped up, "And the cat had a spat . . ." "When she found the rat in her hat," Ron finished with a grin. Hermione rolled her eyes and muttered, "Imagine that."
They all looked at each other then burst out laughing, but Ginny just shook her head and sniggered, "You guys have problems." As they settled into their meal, Hermione told her the story about the rat mishap while Harry yawned into his plate of sandwiches.
He took a few bites and realized that he'd rather be sleeping. He was so tired food just didn't sound appetizing, so he pushed his plate aside, laid his head on his arms and drifted off to sleep.
He was shaken awake by Ron only ten minutes before their DADA lesson, and as he stretched he felt surprisingly refreshed by the catnap. Picking up his bag, he hurried from the Hall after his friend to where Hermione was waiting for them. She started fussing over him, but he fended her off protesting, "I'm fine! I just didn't get much sleep last night."
Ron nodded as he placed an arm around her shoulders. "Remember, he went prowling with Remus last night. You should have seen him when he finally dragged himself in after sunrise. Leaves and twigs in his hair, big dark circles under his eyes, and the biggest stupid grin I've ever seen."
He had to duck as Harry threw a mock punch at his head, then put up his hand in surrender with a smile. "Hey, easy mate. I'm just saying you looked like you had a good time." Harry smiled back, "Yeah, it was fun." Ron's eyes glazed over slightly as a scheme ran through his head.
"Ginny's getting Animagus lessons, you know, and Hermione is the smartest thing on two legs. Two very nice looking legs, too," he added and his girlfriend blushed. Harry pretended to gag. "Maybe we should all try to be Animagi, then we can do stuff like that. You know, keep up the Marauder tradition . . ."
Hermione swatted his arm. "Ron! It's illegal, not to mention dangerous. They wouldn't allow it. Besides, it normally takes months or years to get it right. By the time we get it we'll be out of Hogwarts, and we'll have to register ourselves, and . . ." By now they were in the corridor leading to the DADA classroom, where the last few sixth year stragglers were rushing so as not to be late. They would make it just before the bell, and their steps sped up even as she continued pointing out the flaws in his idea.
Right in the middle of her lecture, a sharp pain lanced through Harry' scar suddenly, and caught off guard he stopped walking and pressed a hand to his forehead. It was worsening in waves, and he bit back a yell as he wavered dizzily, his vision blurring a bit. Ahead of him, Ron noticed that Harry wasn't with them and turned, and his eyes widened when he realized what the problem was.
He hurried over, inquiring, "Harry?" but the black haired teen couldn't hear him anymore. The scene swam and faded before his eyes as he fought against the pain, but then an especially agonizing stab pierced right through his brain, and he collapsed into blackness.
******************************************************************
Harry materialized into a place of near pure darkness, and with a single glance at the ground he groaned. He was in the Dream Stand. Frantically he tried to recall what he had done to escape last time, but he didn't know how exactly he had called up that light. He spun, eyes trying to pierce the gloom as he call, "I know you're there. Quit hiding." With surprising rapidity, Voldemort stepped out in front of him, glaring with those evil red eyes.
Harry stomped down on his nervousness at the lack of preliminaries; clearly the Dark Lord wasn't in a good mood. For a long time the two mortal enemies glared at each other, the tension as palatable as the surface rippling beneath their feet. Finally Voldemort broke the silence with an icy hiss. "Where is it?"
"Where's what?" Harry replied, even though he had a fairly good idea. The creature before him literally snarled at him, showing off rotted pointy teeth. "The talisman, you insolent brat. I know you know."
The teen War Mage thought quickly, trying to plot the best course of action for this situation. Distract him. He taunted, "Lost track of it, have you? Too bad. Maybe you should put new locks on your doors."
Voldemort's eyes flamed with hatred. "You have the second one, I know it. Hand it over quietly and you will live another day. Refuse, and I will still find it, after walking over the bodies of all your friends. Sirius Black was only the first."
Harry scowled darkly. "Don't think so." He circled warily away from his enemy. "Tell me, did you have a good time getting through the obstacles? I found them rather easy." The long fingered white hands clenched into fists, and he noticed with some satisfaction the dark puncture wounds from multiple snakebites. Good, the snakes had remembered his order and obeyed. Too bad they couldn't finish him off.
Voldemort's voice was soft and deadly when he spoke. "Ten days. Ten days of mental and physical suffering, of frustration and setbacks, of exhaustion and pain. Only to find that my prize had been stolen. And you dare taunt me?"
With a flick several curses flew straight at Harry, and he dove and rolled to avoid them. "Where is the talisman?" The teen jumped again, dodging more wandless curses and spells, and uneasily he saw how much his power had grown from last time.
"Where is it?!" Voldemort roared, and abruptly the floor rippled violently, extended a long black tendril and cracked it like a whip. Harry was desperately trying to avoid the whip and the spells, so he didn't see the wall that grew at his back until he smashed into it.
Instantly the whip caught him across the ribs, and he groaned as he felt several crack and give way painfully. The groans turned to stifled screams as a powerful Cruciatus hit him, wracking his entire body with pain. Gritting his teeth, Harry slammed up mental blocks on the pain and got back to his feet, fists clenched. Voldemort was starting to sound like a broken record when he demanded, "Where is it?!" Harry shot back, "Blown to hell. Why don't you go look for it?"
The Dark Lord narrowed his eyes venomously. "Nice try. But you still have it. Now where is it?" The whip flashed out of nowhere, catching around Harry's legs and flipping him into the air upside down. He gasped as rivulets of icy cold ran through his body, emanating from the black band encircling his ankles.
He shuddered violently, trying to fight back, but as the cold reached his chest he felt his heart slowing, blood moving more and more sluggishly. It felt like the band was wrapped around his chest now, freezing him and suffocating him slowly, painfully. His vision flickered, and he though he saw a warm light, promising heat and air, so he reached for it.
Just before his fingers could touch, the band released and Harry felt himself falling, barely registering before he slammed into the black surface. He landed hard on his left shoulder, and with a distant crack that entire side erupted with fiery pain.
He bit his lip to keep from crying out and forced himself not to feel it even as sharp points of splintered bone dug into his skin from underneath. Blearily he saw Voldemort raise his hand and incant, "Crucio Maximus!"
**************************************************************
As Harry collapsed in the corridor, Ron closed the last few steps at a run and caught him before he hit the ground. Trying to reign in his panic, he yelled back at Hermione, "Get Professor Lupin! Hurry!" Luckily the door was open and the entire class heard, including the professor, and within seconds they all crowded into the corridor. Remus pushed through and knelt beside the two boys. "What happened?" he asked urgently.
Ron cradled Harry's head in his lap, shaking him gently and scared out of his wits by the dull glaze over the open green eyes. "Right before we got to the door, I saw that Harry had fallen behind. His scar was hurting, he had his hand pressed to it, then he just fell."
The teen's blue eyes looked up at the lycanthrope pleadingly. "What's wrong with him?" Remus checked Harry's pulse and frowned as he shook his head. "His heart's racing. It shouldn't be if he's unconscious. What the . . ."
Just then Harry jerked in Ron's arms and a loud crack echoed down the corridor. He twitched again, then let out a bitten-off yell as he started spasming, writhing on the floor convulsively. Ron tried to hold him still with Hermione's help to keep him from hurting himself as the other students back away in trepidation, muttering among themselves. As suddenly as it started the fit passed, and Harry lay tensely still with unfocused eyes wide open, breathing hard.
Remus turned to the students and ordered sharply, "Someone go fetch Professor McGonagall and the Headmaster! Oh, and Madame Pomfrey too! Now!" Immediately three people took off running down the corridor. Hermione knelt by Ron's side, her hand at Harry's neck checking his pulse in alarm.
"His pulse is getting weaker," she reported apprehensively, and Ron could feel it as his friend's breathing slowed and his skin grew cold. He yelled frantically, "Harry! Listen to me, Harry, fight it! C'mon, wake up!"
Another loud crack followed by several pops made them jump, and Harry went limp at his left arm and shoulder torqued around sickeningly, several bones clearly broken and jutting against the skin in places. Ron was horrified as he watched it happen literally in front of his nose for no apparent reason, and Hermione turned wide alarmed eyes to Remus and whispered, "What's happening to him?" Remus could only shake his head helplessly. "I've never seen something like this before."
A flurry of robes announced the arrivals of the three students and two professors, followed closely by the nurse. Dumbledore's eyes went wide when he saw the scene, and Remus started, "Albus, he . . ." but was cut off when Harry jerked violently and began to scream.
Ron could no longer hold onto him as he thrashed wildly, hoarse agonized screams torn from his lips echoing down the corridor like a banshee. The students shrank back to the walls in terror as the professors watched wide- eyed and helpless. Harry's nose began to bleed, then with an extra shriek his infamous scar lanced over with a rip to ooze crimson.
As the seizure continued, little cuts appeared all over his skin and blood was soon smeared all over his body. His back arched up painfully, then abruptly he collapsed back again, panting as small aftershocks wracked him. Hermione immediately bent back over him, checking his pulse again and ignoring the blood now streaking her hands.
She didn't like what she found. "No! Harry, don't you dare! Wake up!" she yelled at him, and Ron touched his face. "He's going cold," he reported grimly, and she tried rubbing at his chest. "He's fading." Madame Pomfrey shoved forward to kneel by them, waving her wand over his prone body.
The group was silent as they watched and prayed, unsure of what was going on. Harry just lay there with his eyes open and fixed, unaware of his surroundings. The nurse placed a hand at his neck, on his chest then in front of his mouth. She looked up with panic at the Headmaster. "Albus, he's not breathing."
**************************************************************
In the Dream Stand, Voldemort held Harry under the modified Cruciatus for several long minutes, the teen unable to focus past the pain long enough to stop it. He could fee every single cell of his body wracked with fire and ice, could feel the blood dripping down his face, the skin tearing itself apart from the energy coursing through him to leak out more blood. His body wasn't under his control any longer, and that helpless feeling was somehow worse than the pain. He was screaming so loud he wouldn't be surprised if they had heard it several dimensions away.
When the curse finally lifted he lay there panting, choking on the copper taste of blood in his mouth. He rolled over weakly and spit it out, swiping at the liquid flowing into his eyes with a shaking hand. His whole body shook from the aftereffects, nerves misfiring as connections tried to reestablish their normal routes after such a disruption.
Suddenly he was being pulled backwards by his legs, and the black floor rippled again to lash him tightly down by his wrists and ankles. Quick as a flash he lay helpless on the strange black surface, laid out like a pagan sacrifice.
Harry struggled weakly, but the effort was futile for the manacles only tightened until he couldn't move an inch, and he suppressed a shiver. Not only from the ice once again creeping through his body, but being tied up always reminded him of that night in the graveyard, and more distantly of an incident with Dudley and Piers. He couldn't have been more than five at the time . . .
A sharp slap on the face made him aware of Voldemort's presence, and he cracked open his eyes to see that nightmare face hovering uncomfortable close above him. "Harry Potter," the Dark Lord hissed, and Harry gagged at the stench of decay.
"You don't like being restrained, do you? I could continue torturing you here until your mind breaks. And your friends back at Hogwarts will only be able to watch helplessly, unknowing." He gripped the boy's chin with one long-fingered hand and stared straight into his eyes.
"Where is the talisman? Tell me and I will release you." Harry struggled for breath and managed to whisper, "No." The hand tightened until he was sure his jaw would break. "You know what my followers did to the Longbottoms, right after that Halloween. Driven insane until they cannot even recognize themselves, let alone their offspring. Would you like that to happen to you? While their pathetically inept son looked on? Tell me and spare him and yourself. Where is it?"
Harry could barely hear him through the roaring of ice in his ears, and could have sworn that in his veins flowed not blood, but crystallized ice water. His whole body throbbed with pain and bitter cold; he couldn't breathe, couldn't move, couldn't even think any more. His body was shutting down, spots danced in front of his eyes, and then he saw that light again, so warm and promising and oh so close now.
He smiled vaguely, his lips and teeth coated with blood, and murmured, "If you want it, come and get it." Ignoring his enemy crouching over him, he reached out for that light, and it came and enveloped him soothingly.
He closed his eyes, felt the bonds fall away, heard Voldemort roar with fury greater than a star explosion, then he was gone, flying away in that light.
*******************
Harry felt at peace, warm and comfortable, away from everything that had ever troubled him. He breathed in a great sigh of relief, happy he could breathe again so freely. Curious, he opened his eyes to find himself on a grassy plain, a city in the distance.
He squinted; was that the city of the Guardians? No, it couldn't be. It was similar yet subtly different, and the air didn't have the same feel of magic to it, the infusion of countless millennia of powerful beings. Where was he then?
He drew in another wonderfully clean gulp of oxygen and decided her didn't much care. But something still felt wrong, something he couldn't put his finger on. Suddenly he jumped when a very familiar voice yelled out behind him, "Harry?!" He spun, disbelieving, and gaped at the impossible sight before his eyes. Now he know what was so very wrong. "Sirius?!" he breathed incredulously.
His eyes were fixed on the man standing not ten feet from him, a completely impossible apparition. Yet there he was in the flesh, just like the last time Harry had seen him alive, before that night. Then his gaze was drawn to the man's two companions, and he swallowed hard. "Mum? Dad?"
They were staring back at him, conflicting emotions darting across their faces, then Lily settled on an amazed smile filled with motherly pride. "Harry!" She held her arms out to him, open ready to catch him up in a tremendous hug of acceptance. James beamed at him with one arm wrapped around his wife's waist and the other beckoning him closer.
A storm of emotions raged through Harry, but at the sight of his parents smiling at him, relief swept through him and he walked towards them, ready to find refuge in their embrace.
Yet he had only taken one step when abruptly the scene faded to blackness, and he was floating through nothingness. "No!" he yelled out frantically, "NO!" He fought against it, searching for a way out of this non-place.
He hated it; he'd even go back to the Dream Stand rather than remain. Concentrating, he could hear a very faint voice calling something, maybe his name. unsure of who it was, he nevertheless followed the sound until the blackness around him changed from nothingness to consciousness. Senses returned in a rush.
His legs lay on cold stone, but the upper part of him was cradled by two warm bodies. He identified the voice: Ron, yelling desperately at him and shaking his unhurt shoulder. Hermione was on the other side, speaking softly as he hand ran over his face wiping up the blood.
His eyes were open but unfocused, and felt very dry and gritty. He blinked twice, trying to focus, and Ron stopped his actions. "Harry, you there?" he asked softly, a sharp contrast to his yelling but with the same concern shading his voice.
Harry swallowed and tried to speak, but abruptly realized he had just swallowed a mouthful of blood. He coughed, choking, and tears ran from his eyes. People crowded around him, pressing closer and asking multitudes of questions in gibbering voices.
It was overwhelming: suddenly violently claustrophobic, he jerked away from restraining hands and shoved to his feet, and amidst startled babbling all around him, bolted down the corridor, pushing past anything in his way. A suit of armor clattered down behind him, but he didn't notice.
He had no clear concept of where he was; he was just acting instinctively, letting his feet carry him away, far away from that corridor and those people. Spotting a familiar door, he stumbled through into the boys' lavatory. Dazedly he went into the nearest stall, fell to his knees and proceeded to wring his guts dry into the bowl, vaguely noticing the red blood mixing with the pitiful remains of his lunch.
A slamming noise echoed through his ears to herald the arrival of several onlookers, probably his friends and the professors, and Harry retched again as a fresh bout of nausea claimed his attention. Hermione wetted a towel and pressed it to the back of his neck while she rubbed his back in soothing circles, and gradually the dry heaves faded.
Ron silently offered him a glass of water, and Harry rinsed out his mouth before easing his throat with the cool water. He must have screamed it bloody, and bile didn't help. He was still too shaken to get his mental blocks up against the pain.
He leaned back against the wooden wall with exhaustion, but hissed as his shoulder came in contact with the hard unforgiving surface. Wincing, he got to his feet and stumbled over to the sink, using his one good hand to splash water on his face, which dripped off red onto the white porcelain. He did it a few more times until the water stayed clear.
Dumbledore approached him warily. "Harry, are you all right?" The teen War Mage shook his head wearily as he leaned on the sink, refusing to look into the mirror. "What happened?" He cleared his throat painfully and croaked, "Voldemort . . . Dream Stand . . . talisman . . . he knows."
He rubbed a hand over his eyes as the people present gasped a bit. "Voldemort tried to get the talisman, that's why he's been laying low for the past week or so. He's furious that I'd beaten him to it. He wants it, and now he knows that I still have it." He started to sigh, but it turned into a groan as his ribs and shoulder protested vehemently.
He wavered, but Ron and Hermione were right there to support him. "Thanks," he mumbled. Madame Pomfrey stepped forward, took one good look at him and commanded, "Hospital Wing, Mr. Potter." He simply nodded, causing his head to throb mercilessly, and allowed his friends to help him.
As they walked together through the corridors, Ron kept stealing side glances at Harry, who finally just said, "What?" The redhead seemed to steel himself, then asked, "Harry, what did he do to you? From what we saw, it wasn't pretty." Harry silently agreed and just leaned on him a bit more, thankful for his strength and friendship. Hermione had her arm around his waist to help him walk, and her concern for him eased a bit of the pain still wracking him. She looked up to meet his eyes with her own frightened ones.
"Harry, I don't know . . . what all happened back there, but . . ." she sniffed, "we were afraid we were going to lose you. It was horrible." She tightened her arm briefly in a hug, as if to reassure herself that he was there.
"At one point . . . you stopped breathing, and you were so cold . . . we thought you were dead." Hermione sniffed, but held in her tears by sheer willpower. Harry raised his head, eyes glazed over and haunted. He whispered so softly that they both had to strain to hear him, but what he said chilled them to their bones.
"I . . . I think I was."