The Demons Hidden Within
Chapter 5: Shades of Gray
~*~*~
I sat in the back corner of The Leaky Cauldron, gently sipping on a Butterbeer. How I had forgotten its warming texture, able to penetrate through to my clouded soul. Though I remembered the taste, the present sensations were lost on me as my eyes wandered around the inn. The array of patrons saw nothing unusual as they passed by me. Like the Hag in another corner, these dark beings were nothing of consequence to them.
I listened to the mindless chatter surrounding me, picking up on what I had missed in my prolonged absence. At the bar a group of ministry workers talked loudly of how the Death Eaters would soon by caught. I scoffed mildly at their blind faith before canceling them out; they were of no importance.
Teenagers united at some tables, recapping on their summers and lamenting that only one week was left until the start of term. One table was even placing bets on the abnormality of this year's Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. A blond-haired girl was adamant that, after last year's part- Veela fiasco, they would be graced with a half-vampire. Little did they know. The adamant rumors of Snape's vampiric heritage must have died down.
I would often hear the name "Harry Potter" spoken in passing. Some would refer to it in awe, others in wariness. Always, though, it was used to express the extremes. I picked up on these conversations and soon found what the Boy Who Lived had come to be.
Harry Potter's scar had not in the least been forgotten. Or maybe the scar, itself, truly had been lost. What remained now was no more than a fabricated legend filled with mystery intended for children's bedtime stories and a drunk's ramblings. Apparently, some went so far as to call Lord Voldemort and I the same being, and my scar was to be the same magical source as his controlling Dark Mark. Others told of my noble death, a sacrifice from a boy who had already sacrificed too much. And no matter how widely the references varied, they were all as misjudged and wrong. I was not pure -- in evil or in good -- rather a combination that neither side could comprehend. Gray is still a color unknown to them. In the end, though, I couldn't blame them for all the errors in judgement and in fact -- I alone was privy to most of the truthful knowledge on the subject.
The legend of Harry Potter would never be lost. But as they talked about the legend, the living being drank unnoticed right in front of them. The telltale mark of their savior was hidden behind only a veil of dark hair. If they cared to notice it I would be found, but no one gave a second glance. They had all lost hope in my returning, as I was no longer sought out. I was grateful for that at the moment, and enjoyed the peace surrounding me. If they possessed the hope of my return and looked for my face among those in the streets, I would not have been in so quiet an atmosphere. I couldn't help but wonder when my anonymity would end. It wouldn't be long until my name again graced the Daily Prophet with a recent photo and bouts of endless speculation to accompany it. A week, at the most, for that was when my new position would be announced.
I finished the last of my Butterbeer as a midday rush began to fill the inn. I had yet to receive even a double take, but I was still uneasy of the large crowd. Too many eyes to notice me without mine first seeing them. It was time to get on with my necessary trip to Diagon Alley. I wove my way to the back entrance, still remaining unseen in plain sight. I savored the moment, soon all similar ones in the wizarding world would be denied to me.
Just as I tapped the brick to enter Diagon Alley, a witch came out of The Leaky Cauldron and followed me as I walked into the Alley beyond without saying a word. I felt her eyes on my back and tensed, apparently I had not gone as unnoticed as I previously believed. As the brick wall swirled closed behind us, I turned to face her and put my hand instinctively to my belt, resting it on my wand. Her eyes darted quickly down to note the action.
"I'm sorry," she apologized, raising her hands slowly in defense. She was nervous, yet determined to follow through with her suspicions. "But you remind me of someone . . . " She trailed off in uncertainty, studying my face for any sign of the person she had once known.
I raised an eyebrow in mock curiosity, a gesture adapted from my vampiric professor, inwardly cursing myself for thinking that *none* had cared to look a second time. I had changed, yes, but I was still the same initial person. Most likely she did know my picture, but I wasn't about to shout my name. Not just yet, at any rate. I wanted this week to be without those prejudices that came with that.
I took my hand off my wand and looked at the witch, faking an attempt at recognition. She lowered her hands at my movement, and I realized that she, too, had been reaching for the wand concealed in an inner pocket of her cloak. Obviously, she, too, remembered the time where practical defense was necessary for survival. Her hair, pulled back into a tight bun was reminiscent of McGonagall's, making her look older than her true age, but she could not be any older than I. And as my eyes met her's, realization hit.
"Hermione?" I asked in disbelief. All pretence of lying failing me.
Before I had time to fully register that fact, a hand slapped me across the face.
"Five years!" Hermione tried to tell in indignation, but relief spread through. Her sense of insecurity had definitely been lost at my indirect confirmation. "Five years, and not a single word! Absolutely nothing! Nothing from Snape, Remus -- even Dumbledore! For all I knew you were dea-- "
She choked on the last word, her emotions radiating off it. She could not relive all the doubts that had plagued her. For five years, she hadn't known my fate. For five years, I was all but dead to her -- dead to all of them. I had already felt the guilt that she tried to invoke; it kept me awake on those nights as much as any physical pain or haunting memories. Guilt for the suffering I caused in others. And before I recovered from her sharp smack, she pulled me into a tight embrace.
"Don't you *ever* leave me again, Harry." Filled with an overwhelming relief, and a lingering, repressed anger.
When she finally pulled away, she was wiping away tears. I kept my emotions hidden, allowing only a smile through. I had missed her, yes. Leaving her had perhaps been the hardest of those left, but I had been consumed too much by my own inner battle. And so, over the years, I had forgotten that she indeed felt so much. Now, seeing her again after denying my inner feelings, I didn't want to have to face them.
So we walked in silence for a bit as I went first to Gringotts and then we began out shopping, neither knowing where or with what to start. Eventually, she talked about her job as an editor for Obscurus Books and attempts at fighting part-human legislation with the ministry. S.P.E.W. had long since been abandoned; the Society for Equality Among Beings had since taken its place. Though, her main problems lied within the years of instilled prejudices surrounding those beings. She was fighting with the morals of the wizarding world that would never understand a beast with human traits just as it would never understand the concept of gray.
She was passionate of it, if nothing else. Yet, in the end, I was lost in her explanations and merely resorted to listening tot he voice and not the words. As we walked out of Madam Malkin's, she lapsed into silence.
"I know you're not at all interested in this." At her questioning look, I knew I couldn't remain silent for much longer.
"I like to hear you talk."
She smiled. "Oh, very smooth."
Both needing a rest, we sat down at Florean Fortescue's and with some prompting I finally explained with as little detail possible what I should have long since told her.
At least Hermione had gotten past the anger stage quickly. After my little sum up she still craved details, but didn't ask for them. I thanked her for that. There were some things that even I did not want to know and which I would not subject upon her. I knew, at any rate, I would have to tell Dumbledore eventually, but I would deal with that on a different day.
Instead of the past, I steered the conversation towards my current position. Hermione was more than delighted.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Later, I left Hermione in Flourish and Blott's after arranging for a small collection of Dark Arts and Defense Against the Dark Arts books to be sent to Hogwarts and walked farther down the Alley. The outside of number 93 remained nearly the same as it had the last time I saw it. A yellow sign hung in the window proclaiming "Annual Sale: 15% off Mayhem Merchandise." I walked under the simple "WWW" above the door as I entered the shop.
A bang greeted my entrance, but the three inside gave it no heed. Nor did they take notice when a slight stream of purple smoke came from under the door to the back room. Fred say on the counter, advising the two girls on the best was to release the "Deflagration Deluxe" fireworks set. He talked animatedly of setting it off inside Hogwarts in his last year.
I scanned the shelves of the Mayhem Merchandise. Skiving Snackboxes took up a large section. I made a note that these would now be my enemies with an ironic smile. So many times had they saved me in the past.
"Hey, Fred!"
I looked up from the yell, slightly on edge. I had yet to think through what to tell them, how to break that mounting silence, how to tell them that I was still alive. Obviously, I would be recognized at some point, but I was hoping to play with them a bit before such. Unnerved, I saw that the two girls had left and Fred had been watching me with a wary eye. No doubt I did look rather suspicious. What dark-looking wizard would smile so serenely at the latest in skiving classes?
My eyes met Fred's, but any awkwardness was cut short when George's voice once again yelled from the back room.
"I've got a slight problem back here!" There was sarcasm in his voice, making it clear that the problem was quite more than just "slight."
Fred rolled his eyes, as he turned around to answer the door. "Are you bleeding?" he asked without a trace of concern.
"No, but --"
"Then it's not a problem!" With a growl, he turned back towards me.
George didn't answer and Fred gave me a grin of triumph before it quickly faded. His shop thrived on regulars, traditionally Hogwarts students, and I was an unknown entity. He had yet to know my purposes, but was right in expecting that they went beyond his normal patrons. As I registered this concern, I also registered on how I could play with him.
"Looking for something particular, sir?" I smiled at the question. Never did I believe that Fred would call me (or anyone, for that matter) "sir," let alone with that much seriousness.
"Yes," I said, turning away from the Snackboxes and wandering over towards him. "Do you still carry Extendable Ears?"
My question rang in the shop. The twins had never released the Extendables in their shop, preferring to keep them an Order secret. Likely, the product had been lost with many of the other Order specialties. A look of surprise crossed Fred's face before it was quickly masked.
"Extendable Ears?" He questioned. "I don't remember those. Perhaps if you recall where you heard of them?"
I hid my smile at his concern. No doubt if I left right now, an owl to Dumbledore would be soon on its way. I cursed myself slightly for tossing myself to this already, but there was no avoiding the inevitable now.
"Oh, it was a while ago. Never mind, I didn't think you'd still have them." Taking one last breath, I sealed my discovery, "With all these products, it must be easy to forget some, especially one that was kept within the Order."
Fred's face was definitely one worth seeing. I silenced the voice that said I was being cruel. These people were still on the edge, unsure of whether the battle is over or just at a stalemate. But remembering all the jokes the twins put me through, this payback evened the score somewhat, sadistic as it may be.
"Do I know you?" Fred asked.
Before I had a chance to answer, though, George's voice filtered again through the back room in a rant of frustration.
"I can't do this! We've been working on the map for six months now, and I still fall into the same pitfalls! The traditional labeling spell doesn't work, but something must . . . They were able to get it to work inside Hogwarts, even, so the shop should be simple! I thought I had it with the potion, but that only made these random dots come and have everything reading 'H. Potter' and that couldn't possibly be. . . "
George had finally come into sight, slamming the door open and pushing a large parchment onto the counter. His rant trailed off as he caught sight of me. " . . . Be exactly right," he finished as he regained control of his voice.
Fred looked from his twin to me in disbelief, his jaw dropping. "Harry?"
"Yes." I answered simply. I don't think I had ever seen their mouths open so wide.
George seemed to be in a permanent state of shock, but Fred quickly pulled himself back.
"You prat! Do you have any idea . . . Extendable Ears . . . the Order . . . " He began to mutter incoherently.
At my grin, he stopped himself and began to shake his head in disbelief.
"Well, you deserve it for the Hell you'll be indirectly responsible for this year." I motioned towards the Mayhem Merchandise.
George seemed to be in a permanent state of shock, but Fred was quick to pick up on my statement.
"You'll be at Hogwarts?" A light of comprehension flickered in his eyes. "Not *teaching*?"
Grimacing, I nodded.
"You know, then, we really shouldn't be talking to you," he said, grinning. "Consorting with the enemy and all that."
"Well, actually I was sort of hoping you could give me some inside help."
This eminent danger seemed to snap George out of his shock. "Traitor!" He pointed his finger at me accusingly.
I raised my hands in defense from his finger. "Only to help keep my own sanity, nothing more. Let the others suffer."
George looked at me with a disbelieving raised eyebrow. But Fred's attention was diverted slightly to my right hand before he caught himself and mimicked George's look.
"What if I told you that Lupin can help you with your map problems?"
Their looks continued with indifference.
"I solemnly swear, I am up to no good."
Identical, devious grins smiled at me.
"Its scary when you both do that."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
A/N: am sincerely sorry for the delay in posting this. (Real life decided to actually exist at the exact moment when I have no time for it.) And for the lack of actual plottedness going on. I meant to get him to Hogwarts... but somehow Hermione suddenly appeared... I still don't quite know how that managed to happen. Anyways, also apologize for the inevitable typos, but I had to retype the whole chapter as my disk was damaged... perhaps I'll edit it sometime, don't quite know yet.
Next Chapter: Hogwarts, DD, a bit of plot. Don't expect it to be posted for a while, yet.
Chapter 5: Shades of Gray
~*~*~
I sat in the back corner of The Leaky Cauldron, gently sipping on a Butterbeer. How I had forgotten its warming texture, able to penetrate through to my clouded soul. Though I remembered the taste, the present sensations were lost on me as my eyes wandered around the inn. The array of patrons saw nothing unusual as they passed by me. Like the Hag in another corner, these dark beings were nothing of consequence to them.
I listened to the mindless chatter surrounding me, picking up on what I had missed in my prolonged absence. At the bar a group of ministry workers talked loudly of how the Death Eaters would soon by caught. I scoffed mildly at their blind faith before canceling them out; they were of no importance.
Teenagers united at some tables, recapping on their summers and lamenting that only one week was left until the start of term. One table was even placing bets on the abnormality of this year's Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. A blond-haired girl was adamant that, after last year's part- Veela fiasco, they would be graced with a half-vampire. Little did they know. The adamant rumors of Snape's vampiric heritage must have died down.
I would often hear the name "Harry Potter" spoken in passing. Some would refer to it in awe, others in wariness. Always, though, it was used to express the extremes. I picked up on these conversations and soon found what the Boy Who Lived had come to be.
Harry Potter's scar had not in the least been forgotten. Or maybe the scar, itself, truly had been lost. What remained now was no more than a fabricated legend filled with mystery intended for children's bedtime stories and a drunk's ramblings. Apparently, some went so far as to call Lord Voldemort and I the same being, and my scar was to be the same magical source as his controlling Dark Mark. Others told of my noble death, a sacrifice from a boy who had already sacrificed too much. And no matter how widely the references varied, they were all as misjudged and wrong. I was not pure -- in evil or in good -- rather a combination that neither side could comprehend. Gray is still a color unknown to them. In the end, though, I couldn't blame them for all the errors in judgement and in fact -- I alone was privy to most of the truthful knowledge on the subject.
The legend of Harry Potter would never be lost. But as they talked about the legend, the living being drank unnoticed right in front of them. The telltale mark of their savior was hidden behind only a veil of dark hair. If they cared to notice it I would be found, but no one gave a second glance. They had all lost hope in my returning, as I was no longer sought out. I was grateful for that at the moment, and enjoyed the peace surrounding me. If they possessed the hope of my return and looked for my face among those in the streets, I would not have been in so quiet an atmosphere. I couldn't help but wonder when my anonymity would end. It wouldn't be long until my name again graced the Daily Prophet with a recent photo and bouts of endless speculation to accompany it. A week, at the most, for that was when my new position would be announced.
I finished the last of my Butterbeer as a midday rush began to fill the inn. I had yet to receive even a double take, but I was still uneasy of the large crowd. Too many eyes to notice me without mine first seeing them. It was time to get on with my necessary trip to Diagon Alley. I wove my way to the back entrance, still remaining unseen in plain sight. I savored the moment, soon all similar ones in the wizarding world would be denied to me.
Just as I tapped the brick to enter Diagon Alley, a witch came out of The Leaky Cauldron and followed me as I walked into the Alley beyond without saying a word. I felt her eyes on my back and tensed, apparently I had not gone as unnoticed as I previously believed. As the brick wall swirled closed behind us, I turned to face her and put my hand instinctively to my belt, resting it on my wand. Her eyes darted quickly down to note the action.
"I'm sorry," she apologized, raising her hands slowly in defense. She was nervous, yet determined to follow through with her suspicions. "But you remind me of someone . . . " She trailed off in uncertainty, studying my face for any sign of the person she had once known.
I raised an eyebrow in mock curiosity, a gesture adapted from my vampiric professor, inwardly cursing myself for thinking that *none* had cared to look a second time. I had changed, yes, but I was still the same initial person. Most likely she did know my picture, but I wasn't about to shout my name. Not just yet, at any rate. I wanted this week to be without those prejudices that came with that.
I took my hand off my wand and looked at the witch, faking an attempt at recognition. She lowered her hands at my movement, and I realized that she, too, had been reaching for the wand concealed in an inner pocket of her cloak. Obviously, she, too, remembered the time where practical defense was necessary for survival. Her hair, pulled back into a tight bun was reminiscent of McGonagall's, making her look older than her true age, but she could not be any older than I. And as my eyes met her's, realization hit.
"Hermione?" I asked in disbelief. All pretence of lying failing me.
Before I had time to fully register that fact, a hand slapped me across the face.
"Five years!" Hermione tried to tell in indignation, but relief spread through. Her sense of insecurity had definitely been lost at my indirect confirmation. "Five years, and not a single word! Absolutely nothing! Nothing from Snape, Remus -- even Dumbledore! For all I knew you were dea-- "
She choked on the last word, her emotions radiating off it. She could not relive all the doubts that had plagued her. For five years, she hadn't known my fate. For five years, I was all but dead to her -- dead to all of them. I had already felt the guilt that she tried to invoke; it kept me awake on those nights as much as any physical pain or haunting memories. Guilt for the suffering I caused in others. And before I recovered from her sharp smack, she pulled me into a tight embrace.
"Don't you *ever* leave me again, Harry." Filled with an overwhelming relief, and a lingering, repressed anger.
When she finally pulled away, she was wiping away tears. I kept my emotions hidden, allowing only a smile through. I had missed her, yes. Leaving her had perhaps been the hardest of those left, but I had been consumed too much by my own inner battle. And so, over the years, I had forgotten that she indeed felt so much. Now, seeing her again after denying my inner feelings, I didn't want to have to face them.
So we walked in silence for a bit as I went first to Gringotts and then we began out shopping, neither knowing where or with what to start. Eventually, she talked about her job as an editor for Obscurus Books and attempts at fighting part-human legislation with the ministry. S.P.E.W. had long since been abandoned; the Society for Equality Among Beings had since taken its place. Though, her main problems lied within the years of instilled prejudices surrounding those beings. She was fighting with the morals of the wizarding world that would never understand a beast with human traits just as it would never understand the concept of gray.
She was passionate of it, if nothing else. Yet, in the end, I was lost in her explanations and merely resorted to listening tot he voice and not the words. As we walked out of Madam Malkin's, she lapsed into silence.
"I know you're not at all interested in this." At her questioning look, I knew I couldn't remain silent for much longer.
"I like to hear you talk."
She smiled. "Oh, very smooth."
Both needing a rest, we sat down at Florean Fortescue's and with some prompting I finally explained with as little detail possible what I should have long since told her.
At least Hermione had gotten past the anger stage quickly. After my little sum up she still craved details, but didn't ask for them. I thanked her for that. There were some things that even I did not want to know and which I would not subject upon her. I knew, at any rate, I would have to tell Dumbledore eventually, but I would deal with that on a different day.
Instead of the past, I steered the conversation towards my current position. Hermione was more than delighted.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Later, I left Hermione in Flourish and Blott's after arranging for a small collection of Dark Arts and Defense Against the Dark Arts books to be sent to Hogwarts and walked farther down the Alley. The outside of number 93 remained nearly the same as it had the last time I saw it. A yellow sign hung in the window proclaiming "Annual Sale: 15% off Mayhem Merchandise." I walked under the simple "WWW" above the door as I entered the shop.
A bang greeted my entrance, but the three inside gave it no heed. Nor did they take notice when a slight stream of purple smoke came from under the door to the back room. Fred say on the counter, advising the two girls on the best was to release the "Deflagration Deluxe" fireworks set. He talked animatedly of setting it off inside Hogwarts in his last year.
I scanned the shelves of the Mayhem Merchandise. Skiving Snackboxes took up a large section. I made a note that these would now be my enemies with an ironic smile. So many times had they saved me in the past.
"Hey, Fred!"
I looked up from the yell, slightly on edge. I had yet to think through what to tell them, how to break that mounting silence, how to tell them that I was still alive. Obviously, I would be recognized at some point, but I was hoping to play with them a bit before such. Unnerved, I saw that the two girls had left and Fred had been watching me with a wary eye. No doubt I did look rather suspicious. What dark-looking wizard would smile so serenely at the latest in skiving classes?
My eyes met Fred's, but any awkwardness was cut short when George's voice once again yelled from the back room.
"I've got a slight problem back here!" There was sarcasm in his voice, making it clear that the problem was quite more than just "slight."
Fred rolled his eyes, as he turned around to answer the door. "Are you bleeding?" he asked without a trace of concern.
"No, but --"
"Then it's not a problem!" With a growl, he turned back towards me.
George didn't answer and Fred gave me a grin of triumph before it quickly faded. His shop thrived on regulars, traditionally Hogwarts students, and I was an unknown entity. He had yet to know my purposes, but was right in expecting that they went beyond his normal patrons. As I registered this concern, I also registered on how I could play with him.
"Looking for something particular, sir?" I smiled at the question. Never did I believe that Fred would call me (or anyone, for that matter) "sir," let alone with that much seriousness.
"Yes," I said, turning away from the Snackboxes and wandering over towards him. "Do you still carry Extendable Ears?"
My question rang in the shop. The twins had never released the Extendables in their shop, preferring to keep them an Order secret. Likely, the product had been lost with many of the other Order specialties. A look of surprise crossed Fred's face before it was quickly masked.
"Extendable Ears?" He questioned. "I don't remember those. Perhaps if you recall where you heard of them?"
I hid my smile at his concern. No doubt if I left right now, an owl to Dumbledore would be soon on its way. I cursed myself slightly for tossing myself to this already, but there was no avoiding the inevitable now.
"Oh, it was a while ago. Never mind, I didn't think you'd still have them." Taking one last breath, I sealed my discovery, "With all these products, it must be easy to forget some, especially one that was kept within the Order."
Fred's face was definitely one worth seeing. I silenced the voice that said I was being cruel. These people were still on the edge, unsure of whether the battle is over or just at a stalemate. But remembering all the jokes the twins put me through, this payback evened the score somewhat, sadistic as it may be.
"Do I know you?" Fred asked.
Before I had a chance to answer, though, George's voice filtered again through the back room in a rant of frustration.
"I can't do this! We've been working on the map for six months now, and I still fall into the same pitfalls! The traditional labeling spell doesn't work, but something must . . . They were able to get it to work inside Hogwarts, even, so the shop should be simple! I thought I had it with the potion, but that only made these random dots come and have everything reading 'H. Potter' and that couldn't possibly be. . . "
George had finally come into sight, slamming the door open and pushing a large parchment onto the counter. His rant trailed off as he caught sight of me. " . . . Be exactly right," he finished as he regained control of his voice.
Fred looked from his twin to me in disbelief, his jaw dropping. "Harry?"
"Yes." I answered simply. I don't think I had ever seen their mouths open so wide.
George seemed to be in a permanent state of shock, but Fred quickly pulled himself back.
"You prat! Do you have any idea . . . Extendable Ears . . . the Order . . . " He began to mutter incoherently.
At my grin, he stopped himself and began to shake his head in disbelief.
"Well, you deserve it for the Hell you'll be indirectly responsible for this year." I motioned towards the Mayhem Merchandise.
George seemed to be in a permanent state of shock, but Fred was quick to pick up on my statement.
"You'll be at Hogwarts?" A light of comprehension flickered in his eyes. "Not *teaching*?"
Grimacing, I nodded.
"You know, then, we really shouldn't be talking to you," he said, grinning. "Consorting with the enemy and all that."
"Well, actually I was sort of hoping you could give me some inside help."
This eminent danger seemed to snap George out of his shock. "Traitor!" He pointed his finger at me accusingly.
I raised my hands in defense from his finger. "Only to help keep my own sanity, nothing more. Let the others suffer."
George looked at me with a disbelieving raised eyebrow. But Fred's attention was diverted slightly to my right hand before he caught himself and mimicked George's look.
"What if I told you that Lupin can help you with your map problems?"
Their looks continued with indifference.
"I solemnly swear, I am up to no good."
Identical, devious grins smiled at me.
"Its scary when you both do that."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
A/N: am sincerely sorry for the delay in posting this. (Real life decided to actually exist at the exact moment when I have no time for it.) And for the lack of actual plottedness going on. I meant to get him to Hogwarts... but somehow Hermione suddenly appeared... I still don't quite know how that managed to happen. Anyways, also apologize for the inevitable typos, but I had to retype the whole chapter as my disk was damaged... perhaps I'll edit it sometime, don't quite know yet.
Next Chapter: Hogwarts, DD, a bit of plot. Don't expect it to be posted for a while, yet.