Author's Note: I'm really excited about this chapter. I'm sure you'll enjoy it.
I've added a second story, slated for irregular updates as fancy strikes. It's much more drama/tragedy oriented, and I've made no attempt to mimic JKR's style. If you want to read The Many Deaths of Harry Potter, navigate yourself around to
http://www.fanfiction.net/reviews.php?storyid=1836046
My favorite is "Adventure Park," although I don't know why.
All the best,
Neoepiphany********
Chapter Nineteen
Possessing Voldemort
Ron and Hermione were unusually cold to one another over the next few days. Whatever they'd said in the course of their whispered argument must have been really hurtful, Harry thought. It was hard to return his attention to Snape's absence and the rumors of strange events around Hogwarts when he was spending all his time trying to prevent open hostilities from breaking out between his two best friends. At any rate, there was nothing new happening around Hogwarts. Despite the reporters' presence on the Hogwarts grounds that afternoon, nothing appeared in the Prophet beyond the usual rumors, speculations, and updates on Death Eater hunts.
By Sunday morning, Harry was getting fed up. He and Ron were sitting together at breakfast, but Hermione was three seats away, eating alone with "Charmes, Spelles, and Enchantmentes" propped up on her lap. Ron was making a point of sitting with his back to her.
Harry sat down his orange juice. "Look, Ron. Couldn't you go talk to her? Tell her you're sorry?"
Ron looked at Harry in shock. "I didn't start this, you know. I didn't do anything wrong."
"Tell her you don't want to fight, then," Harry conceded.
"No. She's the one that ought to apologize," Ron glared.
Harry sighed.
They had quidditch practice that morning, but it was bitterly cold and raining again, so Harry, thinking longingly of dry robes and a cup of cocoa by the fire, cut it short and sent everyone away. Ron went on ahead, promising to wait for Harry for lunch. Harry was just packing the practice balls back into the cupboard when he heard a little cough behind him.
"Oh, hello," he said, turning. "What are you still doing here Eva?"
She looked a bit like a drowned animal. Her dark, wet hair stuck to her face. "I wanted to ask you something," she said, sheepishly.
"If it's about the Ravenclaw match, you're a bit early," Harry joked lamely, stalling for time. He thought he knew what she wanted to ask.
"No," she said, smiling. "No, I wanted to ask you about Ron. You're his best friend, right?"
"Yeah," Harry said, turning back around to push the bludger box into the back of the cabinet.
"Well, he's not—er, I mean, he and Hermione Granger aren't—er, dating, are they?"
"Dating?" Harry mumbled. "Er—no. Not really, no."
"Oh, good," Eva said. "So, if I asked Ron to come into Hogsmeade with me next weekend, that would be okay?"
"Er," Harry said. He felt an unpleasant warmth creeping up his neck. "I—er, I guess so."
"D'you—do you think he'll say yes?"
Harry busied himself rearranging quaffles so that he didn't have to look at Eva. "I don't know," Harry said honestly. "He might."
"Oh," Eva said. "Okay. Well. Thanks, Harry. See you at lunch, then?"
"Sure, see you," Harry said. He kept rearranging quaffles until he had heard the door open and close. He counted to ten, and then, when he was sure the coast was clear, he headed back to the castle.
"What kept you?" Ron demanded. "I'm starving!"
"Nothing," Harry said quickly. "Let's go."
They walked down to the Great Hall with Seamus, Dean, Ginny and Neville, and took seats. Harry spotted Hermione sitting toward the end of the table by herself, the ponderous book once again propped on her lap.
"I'm going to go ask Hermione to join us," said Ginny standing.
"Don't," Ron said.
"She can't eat another meal by herself," Ginny insisted.
"She's not by herself, she has that book. She's fine. Sit down, Ginny."
Harry busied himself with tying his shoelace. Ginny scowled at her brother. "You're my brother, not my boss. If you don't want to eat with her, fine. But she's still my friend," she snapped, and, taking her plate, went and sat down across from Hermione. Dean followed her, and Seamus followed him.
"Hermione's been really mopey," Neville said. "Whatever you two fought about, Ron, it must've been serious."
Ron didn't say anything.
Just before the end of the meal, Eva Gregory sat down beside Ron. "Hello, Harry, Neville, Ron," she said smiling. Harry pretended to notice another untied shoelace and ducked under the table. He didn't want Ron to see the expression on his face. "Ron—can I, er, talk to you for a minute?" she asked.
"Oh," Ron said, surprised. "Okay." They walked to the end of the table, right past Hermione, and stood talking next to the wall.
"What's that about?" Neville asked, watching them.
"No idea," Harry said. He refused to let anyone know anything about the conversation he'd had with Eva. He watched them out of the corner of his eye. They talked for a minute, and then Eva walked out of the hall. Harry couldn't see her face. Hermione, however, looked thoughtfully at Ron as he walked back past her.
"What was that about?" a grinning Neville asked Ron as he sat down.
"Nothing," Ron said gruffly.
"What do you mean, nothing?" Neville asked. "It looked like she was going to ask you out. Everyone knows she fancies you. I heard those two third year friends of hers saying—"
"It was nothing, Neville," Ron said, pushing his fork at a pile of peas. He gave it an irritable look and pushed his plate away. "Come on, Harry," he said, looking up, "let's get—" Ron's face froze in an expression of surprise that quickly turned into one of wooden defiance. Harry turned. Hermione was standing beside him. He hadn't seen her approach.
"Hello," she said, quietly.
"Hello," said Harry and Neville.
"What do you want?" said Ron.
Hermione cleared her throat. "I heard you talking to Eva."
"You were listening to us?" Ron demanded, his cheeks flushing pink.
"I couldn't help it," Hermione said quickly. "You weren't even ten feet away." She looked at her feet. "I just wanted to say—" she swallowed. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry I yelled at you the other day, Ron."
"Oh," Ron said. He looked for a moment like he might say something angry, but then his face softened. "It's okay," he said at last. Hermione smiled. Ron looked away. "Come and sit down, if you like," he said.
"Thanks," she said, sitting beside him. "Actually, I wanted to show you something. All of you," she added.
"What?" Harry asked.
"This morning's Prophet. You'd already gone when it was delivered, and I didn't get another chance to show you what with you having practice all morning, and—er—everything."
"What is it?" Ron asked.
"Have a look," she said, pulling the paper out of her robes and pushing it toward them. "Third page." Ron pushed his plate away, and smoothed out the paper. Harry and Neville leaned in to read.
"Dark Conspiracy at Hogwarts?
Hogwarts Teacher's Disappearance may be linked to You-Know-Who
The curious events that began in the wizarding village of Hogsmeade last October show no sign of abating as more mysteries are unearthed daily, writes Special Investigator Miles Toler. The most recent puzzle centers around the sudden disappearance of Hogwarts Professor, Severus Snape. Rumors of the Dark Mark's appearance over the countryside near Hogsmeade began to circulate last Wednesday, and unusual activity amongst aurors was noted beginning on Thursday. Now, the Daily Prophet may report that these events are, in fact, linked to the mysterious disappearance of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Potions Master, Professor Snape.
Snape, who was accused and acquitted of being involved with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named 15 years ago, has disappeared from the Hogwarts premises, and has not been seen publicly for several days. An inside source at Hogwarts reports that Headmaster Albus Dumbledore has tapped Sir Marcus Garlick, author of bestselling book, "Put a Cork in it!: How to Brew your way to a Better Life," to fill the post of Potions Master. Garlick reportedly told students he would hold the post for "some time", however, no explanation was given for Snape's absence. Headmaster Dumbledore refused comment.
Snape's disappearance is likely closely linked to the events of last Wednesday, when he apparently disappeared. According to an anonymous auror, the Ministry of Magic received a tip that the Dark Mark had been spotted in the countryside near Hogsmeade. However, when aurors arrived on the scene, they found several Hogwarts teachers already in the vicinity, including Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall. They gave no explanation for their presence. Several Hogwarts students confirmed that lessons Wednesday afternoon were cancelled, and went on to say that Snape had not been seen all that day. 'Everyone's really upset,' noted one Hogwarts student. 'Professor Snape is one of the most popular teachers.'
Aurors reported some signs of struggle in the vicinity of the Dark Mark, including patches of scorched grass and a piece of torn black fabric. Although the Ministry of Magic denies the connection between Snape and the appearance of the Dark Mark, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement launched a major search for the Potions Master on Friday morning. One can only wonder why, if the events are connected, both Hogwarts School and the Ministry of Magic have chosen to cover the events in a conspiracy of silence."
Ron leaned back. "So. The teachers were looking for Snape?" he said.
Hermione shrugged. "I don't know. But it definitely looks that way."
"Do you think You-Know-Who killed Snape?" Neville said, looking startled.
They sat in silence, staring at the paper. "I don't know," Harry said at last.
"Hey, why do you all look so serious? Didn't you just make up?" Ginny said, dropping onto the bench by Neville.
"Oh," said Ron, "yeah."
"Well, that's good, right?" she said.
"Of course it is," said Hermione.
Ginny looked at all of them. "Did something happen?" she asked.
"No," said Harry quickly. He wasn't sure why he didn't want to talk to Ginny, especially since Neville had just overheard their conversation. He would make it up—they'd tell her everything later. After he'd done what he had to do. Ginny looked at his face, frowning.
"Okay," she said, finally. "Well, Dean and I were going to practice some of those curses we did in the DA last week. Care to join us?"
"Sure," said Neville.
"No thanks," said Harry.
"Suit yourself," said Ginny. "Ron? Hermione?"
"No—eh, we'll stay here, thanks all the same, Ginny."
Ginny and Neville left, and Ron and Hermione leaned in. "Okay," Ron said. "What do you think?"
"I don't know if Snape's still alive or not, but I can find out," Harry said.
"No," Hermione said. "No. I know what you're thinking, and you can't do it, Harry, you just can't. Don't you remember what Hagrid said? You could be hurt—you could go mad!"
"I got in and out fine last time," Harry said. "He'll never even know I'm there."
"You can't do it, Harry, you just can't," Hermione insisted. "If you possess Voldemort again—"
"You can't stop me Hermione," he replied. "I'm going to do it. I'm going to find out the truth one way or another."
Hermione clamped her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with worry.
"You can't, Harry, you just can't!"
"I don't have a choice," he said. "I know what you almost said the other day. That if Snape was taken it was probably because of me."
"I wasn't thinking, Harry—"
"She didn't mean it like that!" Ron said quickly.
Harry waved his hand. "But it was true. I can't have that on my conscience. I can't go the rest of my life knowing that he was taken because he helped me and I didn't do anything. I have to try. I have to try and find out."
Harry glare at them for a moment, daring them to contradict him. Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance.
"So," Ron said slowly, "what are you going to do, exactly?"
"I'm going to take a nap," Harry said.
Harry shut his eyes. His thoughts were swirling so fast that he didn't think he'd ever fall asleep. How could he? He felt restless and guilty. But he had to try.
He never fell asleep. He knew that much. But suddenly, his thoughts seemed to solidify. In a way he couldn't exactly recall afterward, his mind centered on one point, and, suddenly, it was as if a dream had begun to play in his waking mind. It was very faint—blurred around the edges, as though seen from far away and without his glasses. The voices were thin and tinny. He concentrated harder, willing himself to focus in on that scene. It swam into sharp focus with a jolt.
"—well hidden," said one of two men in front of him. They were clad in black robes, but their faces weren't hidden. Harry recognized Rudolphus Lestrange, but the man next to him, a young, fresh-faced boy in his late teens, was vaguely familiar. Harry though he might have seen him before—at Hogwarts, perhaps?
"I trust this is the case," Harry said, in that now-familiar high, cold voice. "You would not disappoint me again, would you Rudolphus?"
"No, My Lord," Rudolphus said, lowering his head.
"And you, boy," Harry went on, raising a finger to the younger man. The boy bowed his head, but did not cower. "You will not fail me?"
"Never, My Lord," the boy said. "Where others have failed, I will succeed."
"See that you do. You may both go. Send in Bellatrix."
"Of course, My Lord," Rudolphus said. The two men bowed as they backed out of the room.
Harry turned. The room was similar to the one he'd seen before—all white, but grimy and old. He was sitting in a high-backed armchair draped in black velvet. A table perched in front of him held an assortment of odd objects—a wand with a spike near the end, a golden cup, and a small vial of black liquid. He picked up the vial, and turned it in his hands.
The door at the end of the room opened, and a hooded figure entered. "My Lord," said a voice. Harry recognized it as Bellatrix.
"This vial," Harry said quietly, "took us a month of planning and hard work to get, and a pair of disobedient servants made it useless."
"Yes, My Lord," Bellatrix said.
"Too many of our number have proven themselves incompetant. Too many have betrayed me."
"Yes, My Lord." Her voice was full of loathing.
"Rudolphus said that you're seeing to our guest personally," Harry said, setting the vial down.
"I am, My Lord. I did not want you to be disappointed again."
"Good. Your diligence will be rewarded," Harry said. "Be sure that he knows the price for betraying his Lord."
"I will," Bellatrix said, an evil glint in her eye.
"And Wormtail?"
Bellatrix bowed her head. "There isn't much more I can do, My Lord, without making him useless. I will, of course, continue if you wish. However, I wished to consult with you, in case you wanted to use him in future."
"He is weak. Twice he has failed me," Harry said, his hand gripping the side of his chair so hard that the wood below the padding creaked. "But—" He paused. "Perhaps he has learned a lesson in obedience. You were right to consult me, Bellatrix. Yes, I may have one last use for him."
"Of course, My Lord," Bellatrix bowed her head. "I will leave him, then, for the time being."
"Yes," Harry said, standing. He turned to face a small, framed picture of an empty chair on the wall beside him. It was only about the size of Harry's hand, but done in tremendous detail. Harry thought he might have seen it before—the last time he was in this room?
"Now I will check in on our informant. Snape's absence has caused a lot of activity among our… enemy. There is quite a lot to be learned."
"Of course, My Lord. With your permission, I will go see about our guests."
"Very well," Harry said, dismissively. He stared at the painting in silence. Harry felt his mind starting to pull away, but forced himself to focus. If he could see the spy…
Abruptly, he was no longer in the dirty white room. He felt a sudden shock when he realized where he was. He was standing in the basement kitchen of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Harry couldn't tell if he had left Voldemort or not. He could no longer see Voldemort's pale skin or black robes around him, but he still vividly remembered once being in the mind of a snake. He was standing, he realized, in a dark corner beside the kitchen dresser. Was he in the mind of a figure hiding behind an invisibility cloak? Had his mind simply left Voldemort's?
Suddenly, Mira stood up. She'd been kneeling on the floor behind the table, just out of his view. She dropped a few pieces of broken china into the sink. She looked exactly as she had in summer—still wearing that pink apron, her headphones dangling around her neck. She was wearing a blue sweater that was easily three or four sizes to big for her and hung nearly to her knees.
The door swung open. "Mira?" said Lupin, stepping into the kitchen. "What happened? I heard a crash." Lupin, unlike Mira, looked decidedly different than he had during the summer. His face was still lined, his hair still graying, but he looked a lot younger than he had before. He seemed healthier than Harry had ever seen him. Maybe it's having a place to stay and plenty to eat, Harry thought. Or maybe it was his robes—they were still rather old, but now they were very clean, and had been expertly mended, so they looked fresher and newer.
"It's nothing, Remus," Mira said. "I was washing dishes, and I dropped a plate. I'll buy a few new ones when I do the shopping tomorrow." She dropped back down to the floor. She stood again, dropping a few more pieces of shattered porcelain into the sink. "Oh!" she yelped, sticking her finger in her mouth.
"You cut yourself," Lupin said. He grabbed a box from the counter, and pulled out a small bandage. "We're running out of bandages."
"I'll get some of those too," she said. She held out her hand. He gently unwrapped the bandage, and wrapped it around her finger. She smiled at him. He smiled back. There was a long pause.
Mira looked down. "Er," she said, turning back toward the sink. Lupin sat down. "Did you just get back?"
"Yes," Lupin said, putting his head in his hands. "But I should still be out there. Dumbledore sent me back. It was just full moon a few days ago, after all."
"Still no sign of him, then?" Mira said.
"None," Lupin sighed.
Mira frowned. "Are you hungry? I made some chicken spaghetti—"
"No," Lupin said. "I ate something a few hours ago."
"Oh," Mira said. She looked at Lupin's back for a moment, then crossed around the table, and sat down across from him. She reached out and put her hand on top of his. He looked up. "Remus," she said quietly. "You'll find him. I'm sure you will."
"He's running out of time, Mira. And I can't help but feel a bit responsible. If I hadn't let him come along to Harry's—"
"You couldn't have stopped him, Remus," she murmured. "You can't tell a strong will what to do."
"I could have tried harder," Lupin said quietly. Harry got the impression that they weren't talking about Snape anymore.
"You did the best you could, Remus," she said. She reached out and put her other hand on his. Lupin rested his other hand on top of hers. "He wouldn't want you to blame yourself like this."
Lupin was silent. Then he sighed again. "I suppose," he said. "You're right. We'll find Snape. We have all our best witches and wizards searching for him, on top of the Ministry's people." He absently patted Mira's hand again. "How about a cup of tea?" he said quietly. Harry was aware of a strange feeling, very far away. Something distant and persistent. He tried to ignore it.
"Of course," Mira smiled, pulling her hands away. She stood up.
"No, I'll make it," Lupin said, standing as well. He smiled at Mira again.
The far away feeling was becoming more insistent. Harry felt the scene in Grimmauld place slipping away. He tried to hang onto it, but it was like trying to hold water in his fist. He was jerked away. He felt his mind floating through space, fast, fast, faster…
With a jolt, he crashed back into his own body. He felt terribly cold. Somebody was holding him up shaking him hard.
"Wake up! Harry! Wake up!"
"I'm awake!" Harry shouted, and, felt the fists release his shirt. He crashed back onto the bed, shivering. Waking up had felt like being plunged naked into icy water after a warm bath. Every inch of his body felt cold and painful. He grabbed for his glasses, which someone handed to him. He pushed them onto his nose, his hands feeling unusually clumsy. Ron and Neville were standing beside his bed, both looking pale.
"I thought— I thought you were—" Neville said, swallowing hard.
"You thought I was what?" Harry said, trying to stop his teeth from chattering.
"Neville came up here, and you were lying there—white," Ron said, his voice strangely choked.
"I was having a nap," Harry lied, in irritation. If they hadn't jerked him away, he might've found out something more useful.
"You weren't breathing," Neville said. "You weren't breathing, Harry."
"What?" Harry said, shaken. "Of course I was breathing."
"No, you weren't," Ron said. "And he couldn't find a pulse either. Neither could I."
"I wasn't dead," Harry snapped.
"But you looked like it," Neville said.
Harry shivered, clutching his blanket around him. He couldn't remember ever feeling so tired in his life. All he wanted to do was sleep. A gnawing in his stomach contradicted that thought. All he wanted to do was eat himself sick, and then sleep. "I'm fine," he said dumbly.
Ron looked at Harry for a long moment. "Okay," he said, at last. "We'll leave you to get cleaned up then. Dinner's nearly over. You'll want to hurry."
"But—" Neville sputtered, looking at Ron in amazement.
"I'm fine, Neville," Harry repeated. "Wait for me in the common room. I'll be down in a minute."
Ron nodded. He pulled Neville, who still looked a bit flabbergasted, out of the room. He ducked his head back in. "Hurry, Harry. Hermione's having kittens down there."
******************
Reviewer Responses
Balinor: First off, let me say that I am filled with flattered appreciation that you took the time to comment on nearly every chapter, and provide such detailed feedback and criticism. You have my thanks! Now, to respond to some of your comments...
Thanks for calling me "truly an author!" It's been my lifelong ambition, and I have a novel in the works now, which will hopefully get finished/published before I start work on my PhD. ^_^ That made my day, mate.
You're right, Mira and Molly don't get along. You really think Mira came off a bit Mary Sue-ish? I was trying to write it like they were looking for an excuse to make up and Mira's bungled attempt gave them something to laugh at together (namely, Mira). I'll definitely work on improving that chapter in re-writes. (If I were to ever write myself into a fic, it would undoubtedly be an AU one in which I could prevent Sirius from going to Azkaban, and the two of us would raise little Harry safely away from the muggles. This will never be written, but it's nice to think about.)
I think the reason the dream thing comes up so much is because it's used so heavily in the books. At least, that's why I reverted to it. Ever since Book 1, Harry's nightmares have been particularly informative, haven't they? I considered giving him another source of information—Sirius's mirror came to mind—but the dreams just felt more canon. Besides, Harry's having more than simple dreams here. He's having out-of-body experiences.
I know what you mean about the quidditch games. Personally, I'm just sick of always knowing that Gryffindor will win when we go into the game.
Ah yes. I wondered if anyone would ever notice all the food references. I can't help but obsess over the food in the story. I'm hungry, you see. I live in Japan, and I hate Japanese food. I was raised on spicy, gooey, stick to the ribs goodness and suddenly all I'm getting are tiny, bite sized bits of fish with a sprig of parsley and dry white rice. So I'm seeing to it that my characters are well fed, with lots of junkfood, meatloaf, casseroles, etc. I can't help it. I advise that you never read on an empty stomach!
Good lord, I would never do something so cliched as the old "locked in a classroom" schtick. No, I expect Ron and Hermione's romance to progress the way real teenage romances do—slowly and painfully. ;) While I don't know that I would ever write a more romantically-inclined fanfic, I can promise you there is more romance on the horizon of this one.
Hope you enjoyed the new chapter!
Bigstu: Ah, the Ron-Hermione complex. My story is addictive? Hoorah! The power I wield...
Sillyseal: Thanks! I will keep writing. Promise!
Wiccan PussyKat: So, now we kind of know what happened with the staff. (Full disclosure next week!)
As for an evil Snape, well, read the story I put the link to up above. Not only is it wall-to-wall Harry torture, which I believe you like, one of the chapters is titled "Snape." There you go.
Giant's tears. Another thing that will be integral if I ever write the sequal to this story, and therefore is introduced now.
You actually knew someone called Mark Garlic?! Wow. Actually, I picked the name Garlick in a tribute to another book series I love. Handsome prize to the first person to guess what series/character.
Kraeg001: Thank you kindly!
I've added a second story, slated for irregular updates as fancy strikes. It's much more drama/tragedy oriented, and I've made no attempt to mimic JKR's style. If you want to read The Many Deaths of Harry Potter, navigate yourself around to
http://www.fanfiction.net/reviews.php?storyid=1836046
My favorite is "Adventure Park," although I don't know why.
All the best,
Neoepiphany********
Chapter Nineteen
Possessing Voldemort
Ron and Hermione were unusually cold to one another over the next few days. Whatever they'd said in the course of their whispered argument must have been really hurtful, Harry thought. It was hard to return his attention to Snape's absence and the rumors of strange events around Hogwarts when he was spending all his time trying to prevent open hostilities from breaking out between his two best friends. At any rate, there was nothing new happening around Hogwarts. Despite the reporters' presence on the Hogwarts grounds that afternoon, nothing appeared in the Prophet beyond the usual rumors, speculations, and updates on Death Eater hunts.
By Sunday morning, Harry was getting fed up. He and Ron were sitting together at breakfast, but Hermione was three seats away, eating alone with "Charmes, Spelles, and Enchantmentes" propped up on her lap. Ron was making a point of sitting with his back to her.
Harry sat down his orange juice. "Look, Ron. Couldn't you go talk to her? Tell her you're sorry?"
Ron looked at Harry in shock. "I didn't start this, you know. I didn't do anything wrong."
"Tell her you don't want to fight, then," Harry conceded.
"No. She's the one that ought to apologize," Ron glared.
Harry sighed.
They had quidditch practice that morning, but it was bitterly cold and raining again, so Harry, thinking longingly of dry robes and a cup of cocoa by the fire, cut it short and sent everyone away. Ron went on ahead, promising to wait for Harry for lunch. Harry was just packing the practice balls back into the cupboard when he heard a little cough behind him.
"Oh, hello," he said, turning. "What are you still doing here Eva?"
She looked a bit like a drowned animal. Her dark, wet hair stuck to her face. "I wanted to ask you something," she said, sheepishly.
"If it's about the Ravenclaw match, you're a bit early," Harry joked lamely, stalling for time. He thought he knew what she wanted to ask.
"No," she said, smiling. "No, I wanted to ask you about Ron. You're his best friend, right?"
"Yeah," Harry said, turning back around to push the bludger box into the back of the cabinet.
"Well, he's not—er, I mean, he and Hermione Granger aren't—er, dating, are they?"
"Dating?" Harry mumbled. "Er—no. Not really, no."
"Oh, good," Eva said. "So, if I asked Ron to come into Hogsmeade with me next weekend, that would be okay?"
"Er," Harry said. He felt an unpleasant warmth creeping up his neck. "I—er, I guess so."
"D'you—do you think he'll say yes?"
Harry busied himself rearranging quaffles so that he didn't have to look at Eva. "I don't know," Harry said honestly. "He might."
"Oh," Eva said. "Okay. Well. Thanks, Harry. See you at lunch, then?"
"Sure, see you," Harry said. He kept rearranging quaffles until he had heard the door open and close. He counted to ten, and then, when he was sure the coast was clear, he headed back to the castle.
"What kept you?" Ron demanded. "I'm starving!"
"Nothing," Harry said quickly. "Let's go."
They walked down to the Great Hall with Seamus, Dean, Ginny and Neville, and took seats. Harry spotted Hermione sitting toward the end of the table by herself, the ponderous book once again propped on her lap.
"I'm going to go ask Hermione to join us," said Ginny standing.
"Don't," Ron said.
"She can't eat another meal by herself," Ginny insisted.
"She's not by herself, she has that book. She's fine. Sit down, Ginny."
Harry busied himself with tying his shoelace. Ginny scowled at her brother. "You're my brother, not my boss. If you don't want to eat with her, fine. But she's still my friend," she snapped, and, taking her plate, went and sat down across from Hermione. Dean followed her, and Seamus followed him.
"Hermione's been really mopey," Neville said. "Whatever you two fought about, Ron, it must've been serious."
Ron didn't say anything.
Just before the end of the meal, Eva Gregory sat down beside Ron. "Hello, Harry, Neville, Ron," she said smiling. Harry pretended to notice another untied shoelace and ducked under the table. He didn't want Ron to see the expression on his face. "Ron—can I, er, talk to you for a minute?" she asked.
"Oh," Ron said, surprised. "Okay." They walked to the end of the table, right past Hermione, and stood talking next to the wall.
"What's that about?" Neville asked, watching them.
"No idea," Harry said. He refused to let anyone know anything about the conversation he'd had with Eva. He watched them out of the corner of his eye. They talked for a minute, and then Eva walked out of the hall. Harry couldn't see her face. Hermione, however, looked thoughtfully at Ron as he walked back past her.
"What was that about?" a grinning Neville asked Ron as he sat down.
"Nothing," Ron said gruffly.
"What do you mean, nothing?" Neville asked. "It looked like she was going to ask you out. Everyone knows she fancies you. I heard those two third year friends of hers saying—"
"It was nothing, Neville," Ron said, pushing his fork at a pile of peas. He gave it an irritable look and pushed his plate away. "Come on, Harry," he said, looking up, "let's get—" Ron's face froze in an expression of surprise that quickly turned into one of wooden defiance. Harry turned. Hermione was standing beside him. He hadn't seen her approach.
"Hello," she said, quietly.
"Hello," said Harry and Neville.
"What do you want?" said Ron.
Hermione cleared her throat. "I heard you talking to Eva."
"You were listening to us?" Ron demanded, his cheeks flushing pink.
"I couldn't help it," Hermione said quickly. "You weren't even ten feet away." She looked at her feet. "I just wanted to say—" she swallowed. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry I yelled at you the other day, Ron."
"Oh," Ron said. He looked for a moment like he might say something angry, but then his face softened. "It's okay," he said at last. Hermione smiled. Ron looked away. "Come and sit down, if you like," he said.
"Thanks," she said, sitting beside him. "Actually, I wanted to show you something. All of you," she added.
"What?" Harry asked.
"This morning's Prophet. You'd already gone when it was delivered, and I didn't get another chance to show you what with you having practice all morning, and—er—everything."
"What is it?" Ron asked.
"Have a look," she said, pulling the paper out of her robes and pushing it toward them. "Third page." Ron pushed his plate away, and smoothed out the paper. Harry and Neville leaned in to read.
"Dark Conspiracy at Hogwarts?
Hogwarts Teacher's Disappearance may be linked to You-Know-Who
The curious events that began in the wizarding village of Hogsmeade last October show no sign of abating as more mysteries are unearthed daily, writes Special Investigator Miles Toler. The most recent puzzle centers around the sudden disappearance of Hogwarts Professor, Severus Snape. Rumors of the Dark Mark's appearance over the countryside near Hogsmeade began to circulate last Wednesday, and unusual activity amongst aurors was noted beginning on Thursday. Now, the Daily Prophet may report that these events are, in fact, linked to the mysterious disappearance of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Potions Master, Professor Snape.
Snape, who was accused and acquitted of being involved with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named 15 years ago, has disappeared from the Hogwarts premises, and has not been seen publicly for several days. An inside source at Hogwarts reports that Headmaster Albus Dumbledore has tapped Sir Marcus Garlick, author of bestselling book, "Put a Cork in it!: How to Brew your way to a Better Life," to fill the post of Potions Master. Garlick reportedly told students he would hold the post for "some time", however, no explanation was given for Snape's absence. Headmaster Dumbledore refused comment.
Snape's disappearance is likely closely linked to the events of last Wednesday, when he apparently disappeared. According to an anonymous auror, the Ministry of Magic received a tip that the Dark Mark had been spotted in the countryside near Hogsmeade. However, when aurors arrived on the scene, they found several Hogwarts teachers already in the vicinity, including Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall. They gave no explanation for their presence. Several Hogwarts students confirmed that lessons Wednesday afternoon were cancelled, and went on to say that Snape had not been seen all that day. 'Everyone's really upset,' noted one Hogwarts student. 'Professor Snape is one of the most popular teachers.'
Aurors reported some signs of struggle in the vicinity of the Dark Mark, including patches of scorched grass and a piece of torn black fabric. Although the Ministry of Magic denies the connection between Snape and the appearance of the Dark Mark, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement launched a major search for the Potions Master on Friday morning. One can only wonder why, if the events are connected, both Hogwarts School and the Ministry of Magic have chosen to cover the events in a conspiracy of silence."
Ron leaned back. "So. The teachers were looking for Snape?" he said.
Hermione shrugged. "I don't know. But it definitely looks that way."
"Do you think You-Know-Who killed Snape?" Neville said, looking startled.
They sat in silence, staring at the paper. "I don't know," Harry said at last.
"Hey, why do you all look so serious? Didn't you just make up?" Ginny said, dropping onto the bench by Neville.
"Oh," said Ron, "yeah."
"Well, that's good, right?" she said.
"Of course it is," said Hermione.
Ginny looked at all of them. "Did something happen?" she asked.
"No," said Harry quickly. He wasn't sure why he didn't want to talk to Ginny, especially since Neville had just overheard their conversation. He would make it up—they'd tell her everything later. After he'd done what he had to do. Ginny looked at his face, frowning.
"Okay," she said, finally. "Well, Dean and I were going to practice some of those curses we did in the DA last week. Care to join us?"
"Sure," said Neville.
"No thanks," said Harry.
"Suit yourself," said Ginny. "Ron? Hermione?"
"No—eh, we'll stay here, thanks all the same, Ginny."
Ginny and Neville left, and Ron and Hermione leaned in. "Okay," Ron said. "What do you think?"
"I don't know if Snape's still alive or not, but I can find out," Harry said.
"No," Hermione said. "No. I know what you're thinking, and you can't do it, Harry, you just can't. Don't you remember what Hagrid said? You could be hurt—you could go mad!"
"I got in and out fine last time," Harry said. "He'll never even know I'm there."
"You can't do it, Harry, you just can't," Hermione insisted. "If you possess Voldemort again—"
"You can't stop me Hermione," he replied. "I'm going to do it. I'm going to find out the truth one way or another."
Hermione clamped her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with worry.
"You can't, Harry, you just can't!"
"I don't have a choice," he said. "I know what you almost said the other day. That if Snape was taken it was probably because of me."
"I wasn't thinking, Harry—"
"She didn't mean it like that!" Ron said quickly.
Harry waved his hand. "But it was true. I can't have that on my conscience. I can't go the rest of my life knowing that he was taken because he helped me and I didn't do anything. I have to try. I have to try and find out."
Harry glare at them for a moment, daring them to contradict him. Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance.
"So," Ron said slowly, "what are you going to do, exactly?"
"I'm going to take a nap," Harry said.
Harry shut his eyes. His thoughts were swirling so fast that he didn't think he'd ever fall asleep. How could he? He felt restless and guilty. But he had to try.
He never fell asleep. He knew that much. But suddenly, his thoughts seemed to solidify. In a way he couldn't exactly recall afterward, his mind centered on one point, and, suddenly, it was as if a dream had begun to play in his waking mind. It was very faint—blurred around the edges, as though seen from far away and without his glasses. The voices were thin and tinny. He concentrated harder, willing himself to focus in on that scene. It swam into sharp focus with a jolt.
"—well hidden," said one of two men in front of him. They were clad in black robes, but their faces weren't hidden. Harry recognized Rudolphus Lestrange, but the man next to him, a young, fresh-faced boy in his late teens, was vaguely familiar. Harry though he might have seen him before—at Hogwarts, perhaps?
"I trust this is the case," Harry said, in that now-familiar high, cold voice. "You would not disappoint me again, would you Rudolphus?"
"No, My Lord," Rudolphus said, lowering his head.
"And you, boy," Harry went on, raising a finger to the younger man. The boy bowed his head, but did not cower. "You will not fail me?"
"Never, My Lord," the boy said. "Where others have failed, I will succeed."
"See that you do. You may both go. Send in Bellatrix."
"Of course, My Lord," Rudolphus said. The two men bowed as they backed out of the room.
Harry turned. The room was similar to the one he'd seen before—all white, but grimy and old. He was sitting in a high-backed armchair draped in black velvet. A table perched in front of him held an assortment of odd objects—a wand with a spike near the end, a golden cup, and a small vial of black liquid. He picked up the vial, and turned it in his hands.
The door at the end of the room opened, and a hooded figure entered. "My Lord," said a voice. Harry recognized it as Bellatrix.
"This vial," Harry said quietly, "took us a month of planning and hard work to get, and a pair of disobedient servants made it useless."
"Yes, My Lord," Bellatrix said.
"Too many of our number have proven themselves incompetant. Too many have betrayed me."
"Yes, My Lord." Her voice was full of loathing.
"Rudolphus said that you're seeing to our guest personally," Harry said, setting the vial down.
"I am, My Lord. I did not want you to be disappointed again."
"Good. Your diligence will be rewarded," Harry said. "Be sure that he knows the price for betraying his Lord."
"I will," Bellatrix said, an evil glint in her eye.
"And Wormtail?"
Bellatrix bowed her head. "There isn't much more I can do, My Lord, without making him useless. I will, of course, continue if you wish. However, I wished to consult with you, in case you wanted to use him in future."
"He is weak. Twice he has failed me," Harry said, his hand gripping the side of his chair so hard that the wood below the padding creaked. "But—" He paused. "Perhaps he has learned a lesson in obedience. You were right to consult me, Bellatrix. Yes, I may have one last use for him."
"Of course, My Lord," Bellatrix bowed her head. "I will leave him, then, for the time being."
"Yes," Harry said, standing. He turned to face a small, framed picture of an empty chair on the wall beside him. It was only about the size of Harry's hand, but done in tremendous detail. Harry thought he might have seen it before—the last time he was in this room?
"Now I will check in on our informant. Snape's absence has caused a lot of activity among our… enemy. There is quite a lot to be learned."
"Of course, My Lord. With your permission, I will go see about our guests."
"Very well," Harry said, dismissively. He stared at the painting in silence. Harry felt his mind starting to pull away, but forced himself to focus. If he could see the spy…
Abruptly, he was no longer in the dirty white room. He felt a sudden shock when he realized where he was. He was standing in the basement kitchen of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Harry couldn't tell if he had left Voldemort or not. He could no longer see Voldemort's pale skin or black robes around him, but he still vividly remembered once being in the mind of a snake. He was standing, he realized, in a dark corner beside the kitchen dresser. Was he in the mind of a figure hiding behind an invisibility cloak? Had his mind simply left Voldemort's?
Suddenly, Mira stood up. She'd been kneeling on the floor behind the table, just out of his view. She dropped a few pieces of broken china into the sink. She looked exactly as she had in summer—still wearing that pink apron, her headphones dangling around her neck. She was wearing a blue sweater that was easily three or four sizes to big for her and hung nearly to her knees.
The door swung open. "Mira?" said Lupin, stepping into the kitchen. "What happened? I heard a crash." Lupin, unlike Mira, looked decidedly different than he had during the summer. His face was still lined, his hair still graying, but he looked a lot younger than he had before. He seemed healthier than Harry had ever seen him. Maybe it's having a place to stay and plenty to eat, Harry thought. Or maybe it was his robes—they were still rather old, but now they were very clean, and had been expertly mended, so they looked fresher and newer.
"It's nothing, Remus," Mira said. "I was washing dishes, and I dropped a plate. I'll buy a few new ones when I do the shopping tomorrow." She dropped back down to the floor. She stood again, dropping a few more pieces of shattered porcelain into the sink. "Oh!" she yelped, sticking her finger in her mouth.
"You cut yourself," Lupin said. He grabbed a box from the counter, and pulled out a small bandage. "We're running out of bandages."
"I'll get some of those too," she said. She held out her hand. He gently unwrapped the bandage, and wrapped it around her finger. She smiled at him. He smiled back. There was a long pause.
Mira looked down. "Er," she said, turning back toward the sink. Lupin sat down. "Did you just get back?"
"Yes," Lupin said, putting his head in his hands. "But I should still be out there. Dumbledore sent me back. It was just full moon a few days ago, after all."
"Still no sign of him, then?" Mira said.
"None," Lupin sighed.
Mira frowned. "Are you hungry? I made some chicken spaghetti—"
"No," Lupin said. "I ate something a few hours ago."
"Oh," Mira said. She looked at Lupin's back for a moment, then crossed around the table, and sat down across from him. She reached out and put her hand on top of his. He looked up. "Remus," she said quietly. "You'll find him. I'm sure you will."
"He's running out of time, Mira. And I can't help but feel a bit responsible. If I hadn't let him come along to Harry's—"
"You couldn't have stopped him, Remus," she murmured. "You can't tell a strong will what to do."
"I could have tried harder," Lupin said quietly. Harry got the impression that they weren't talking about Snape anymore.
"You did the best you could, Remus," she said. She reached out and put her other hand on his. Lupin rested his other hand on top of hers. "He wouldn't want you to blame yourself like this."
Lupin was silent. Then he sighed again. "I suppose," he said. "You're right. We'll find Snape. We have all our best witches and wizards searching for him, on top of the Ministry's people." He absently patted Mira's hand again. "How about a cup of tea?" he said quietly. Harry was aware of a strange feeling, very far away. Something distant and persistent. He tried to ignore it.
"Of course," Mira smiled, pulling her hands away. She stood up.
"No, I'll make it," Lupin said, standing as well. He smiled at Mira again.
The far away feeling was becoming more insistent. Harry felt the scene in Grimmauld place slipping away. He tried to hang onto it, but it was like trying to hold water in his fist. He was jerked away. He felt his mind floating through space, fast, fast, faster…
With a jolt, he crashed back into his own body. He felt terribly cold. Somebody was holding him up shaking him hard.
"Wake up! Harry! Wake up!"
"I'm awake!" Harry shouted, and, felt the fists release his shirt. He crashed back onto the bed, shivering. Waking up had felt like being plunged naked into icy water after a warm bath. Every inch of his body felt cold and painful. He grabbed for his glasses, which someone handed to him. He pushed them onto his nose, his hands feeling unusually clumsy. Ron and Neville were standing beside his bed, both looking pale.
"I thought— I thought you were—" Neville said, swallowing hard.
"You thought I was what?" Harry said, trying to stop his teeth from chattering.
"Neville came up here, and you were lying there—white," Ron said, his voice strangely choked.
"I was having a nap," Harry lied, in irritation. If they hadn't jerked him away, he might've found out something more useful.
"You weren't breathing," Neville said. "You weren't breathing, Harry."
"What?" Harry said, shaken. "Of course I was breathing."
"No, you weren't," Ron said. "And he couldn't find a pulse either. Neither could I."
"I wasn't dead," Harry snapped.
"But you looked like it," Neville said.
Harry shivered, clutching his blanket around him. He couldn't remember ever feeling so tired in his life. All he wanted to do was sleep. A gnawing in his stomach contradicted that thought. All he wanted to do was eat himself sick, and then sleep. "I'm fine," he said dumbly.
Ron looked at Harry for a long moment. "Okay," he said, at last. "We'll leave you to get cleaned up then. Dinner's nearly over. You'll want to hurry."
"But—" Neville sputtered, looking at Ron in amazement.
"I'm fine, Neville," Harry repeated. "Wait for me in the common room. I'll be down in a minute."
Ron nodded. He pulled Neville, who still looked a bit flabbergasted, out of the room. He ducked his head back in. "Hurry, Harry. Hermione's having kittens down there."
******************
Reviewer Responses
Balinor: First off, let me say that I am filled with flattered appreciation that you took the time to comment on nearly every chapter, and provide such detailed feedback and criticism. You have my thanks! Now, to respond to some of your comments...
Thanks for calling me "truly an author!" It's been my lifelong ambition, and I have a novel in the works now, which will hopefully get finished/published before I start work on my PhD. ^_^ That made my day, mate.
You're right, Mira and Molly don't get along. You really think Mira came off a bit Mary Sue-ish? I was trying to write it like they were looking for an excuse to make up and Mira's bungled attempt gave them something to laugh at together (namely, Mira). I'll definitely work on improving that chapter in re-writes. (If I were to ever write myself into a fic, it would undoubtedly be an AU one in which I could prevent Sirius from going to Azkaban, and the two of us would raise little Harry safely away from the muggles. This will never be written, but it's nice to think about.)
I think the reason the dream thing comes up so much is because it's used so heavily in the books. At least, that's why I reverted to it. Ever since Book 1, Harry's nightmares have been particularly informative, haven't they? I considered giving him another source of information—Sirius's mirror came to mind—but the dreams just felt more canon. Besides, Harry's having more than simple dreams here. He's having out-of-body experiences.
I know what you mean about the quidditch games. Personally, I'm just sick of always knowing that Gryffindor will win when we go into the game.
Ah yes. I wondered if anyone would ever notice all the food references. I can't help but obsess over the food in the story. I'm hungry, you see. I live in Japan, and I hate Japanese food. I was raised on spicy, gooey, stick to the ribs goodness and suddenly all I'm getting are tiny, bite sized bits of fish with a sprig of parsley and dry white rice. So I'm seeing to it that my characters are well fed, with lots of junkfood, meatloaf, casseroles, etc. I can't help it. I advise that you never read on an empty stomach!
Good lord, I would never do something so cliched as the old "locked in a classroom" schtick. No, I expect Ron and Hermione's romance to progress the way real teenage romances do—slowly and painfully. ;) While I don't know that I would ever write a more romantically-inclined fanfic, I can promise you there is more romance on the horizon of this one.
Hope you enjoyed the new chapter!
Bigstu: Ah, the Ron-Hermione complex. My story is addictive? Hoorah! The power I wield...
Sillyseal: Thanks! I will keep writing. Promise!
Wiccan PussyKat: So, now we kind of know what happened with the staff. (Full disclosure next week!)
As for an evil Snape, well, read the story I put the link to up above. Not only is it wall-to-wall Harry torture, which I believe you like, one of the chapters is titled "Snape." There you go.
Giant's tears. Another thing that will be integral if I ever write the sequal to this story, and therefore is introduced now.
You actually knew someone called Mark Garlic?! Wow. Actually, I picked the name Garlick in a tribute to another book series I love. Handsome prize to the first person to guess what series/character.
Kraeg001: Thank you kindly!