Chapter 41. What Madness Lurks
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"Protego!" Harry responded, trying to deflect the silver sparks he saw shooting at him. But his gleaming blue shield did nothing to stop them and they cut right through, striking his face and slicing like tiny razors. Harry, momentarily shocked, held a hand up to his cheek and felt warm and wet blood.
The rage boiled within his veins now and he went to curse Snape but was stunned to find his arms pinned to his side with yet another spell he never saw nor knew. Snape, smirking and eyes alight with a fire Harry'd never before seen, stalked up to him like a hunter moving in for his kill.
Harry couldn't Disapparate; he'd been jinxed. He couldn't move; his feet were rooted to the floor.
Snape snarled as he pointed his wand at Harry's head and said, "Legilli-"
"STOP THIS AT ONCE!" a voice roared. Harry saw Snape's wand fly off in one direction while Snape himself flew backwards in the other. Dumbledore was now standing in the middle of the entry hall and Harry, still fighting to move anything at all, had never seen the aged wizard looking so enraged.
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Harry could see, and even feel, Dumbledore's fury-whether it was truly anger or frustration pushed beyond its considerable limits, he couldn't tell. Dumbledore had been focused on Snape, who was now awkwardly crumpled against the far wall and groggily pushing at the floor to keep himself up. Dumbledore turned then, stone-faced, towards Harry and the very air, hot and suffocating, seemed to be crushing in around him. Even more alarming, a roiling heat from within Harry surged and felt like it was about to burst into flames. Panic swept over him and he sought to plead with Dumbledore to help him-to do anything-anything. But to his horror, no words could he speak. Desperately, he hoped Dumbledore would see the panic through his eyes but then, Harry's world dissolved to black.
"The Furious Curse-guess that's one I never taught him about. Eh-he'll know it now."
Moody's gruff voice made Harry's eyes fly open and his head throb. He was lying on his back looking up at the ceiling in the entry hall of Grimmauld Place. He felt overheated and sweat made the shirt beneath his jumper cling to him uncomfortably; it felt like he was in a sauna and the cool floor beneath him was a relief. His head was aching; splitting and throbbing right along- "My scar." he rasped. He couldn't remember his scar hurting since.
"Harry," came Dumbledore's concerned voice. Harry soon saw Professor Dumbledore kneel beside him and peer down at him. The headmaster looked gravely concerned and quietly asked, "Is it bothering you now? Did anything-" He stopped abruptly as Harry, meeting his eyes a moment, then reached a hand up to his head. Harry's fingers, feeling cool to the touch, gingerly ran down the familiar jagged mark on his forehead. He couldn't think straight with the stifling heat and he abruptly sat up, hastily pulling his woollen jumper up and over his head. "Alastor," Dumbledore said quietly and eyeing the discarded jumper upon the floor. "Please leave us for a few moments and make sure no one else comes up here."
Moody's uneven steps could be heard then crossing the entry hall and descending the stairs to the basement. Harry had his eyes shut now as he still massaged his scar and tried to understand what had just happened. The last thing he recalled was.Snape had been there and had hit him with some binding spell.
"Harry," Dumbledore said. Harry looked up at him and saw the headmaster was still kneeling beside him but keeping his gaze from meeting Harry's. "I must ask you to calm yourself and clear your mind."
"Where's Snape?" Harry demanded. His memory of what had just happened was clearing now and Harry was not going to let Snape get away with what he'd done.
"Not yet, Harry."
Anger flared. "No-I want to know-"
"Harry-I know you have questions, but please trust me when I ask you to clear your mind first. We must be certain that all those questions in your mind are yours and yours alone."
These words, along with Dumbledore's calm insistence and unwillingness to meet his eyes, now instilled a chilling fear deep within Harry. He felt a certain shame and guilt at the possibility that he'd allowed a breach of his mind's shields. But.how.? But no, he couldn't think on this now. He had to clear his mind. Harry leaned back upon the floor and closed his eyes to begin his ritual of deep breathing to calm his mind. Every intake of breath was a calming wash of air within his mind; each exhale, another layer erected to strengthen the walls about his mind.
After several minutes of this Harry, who was now shivering, opened his eyes and sat up. "Where is Snape?" he asked as soon as he spotted Dumbledore standing a few feet away near the hall table. He noticed, now for the first time, that the portrait of Phineas Nigellus had been moved from an upstairs bedroom and the former headmaster of Hogwarts could be seen watching Harry keenly from just over Dumbledore's shoulder.
Dumbledore stepped over to Harry, lending a hand to pull him to his feet, and said, "I asked him to leave. Do you know what just happened, Harry?"
"Yeah, Snape attacked me," Harry said bitterly. He was still shivering so he picked up his discarded jumper from the floor and pulled it back on. "Where did he go? When-how-how long was I out?" Harry wrapped his arms around himself in an attempt to warm himself.
Dumbledore was looking at Harry intently and now sighed deeply. "Did Professor Snape tell you his news about Voldemort's intentions to test the shields about your mind now?"
"Yeah, yeah he said he thinks they won't be as strong as when I'm at Hogwarts." Harry frowned at this. He wasn't in the mood for one of Dumbledore's long, drawn-out inquisitions and so he said, "Look, he told me what he had tell me. I was about to tell him some information that I got." Harry looked up sharply now at Dumbledore and asked, "He's gone-you're sure? He won't be back before.before-you know?"
Harry hadn't really intended to keep the goblins' news from Snape; no-especially not now when any sort of intelligence about anyone's motives might be crucial. Harry felt a sickening swoop of regret about not properly communicating this news when it might have been important for Snape to know. An even stronger surge of anger and contempt for Snape swept away this regret. Why couldn't the bastard just take as good as he gave? Why did he have to always see every little word and nuance as a battle for supremacy and dominance? Greasy.no good.son of a--
"Harry, I asked him to leave immediately after I Stunned you. He needed to-"
"Stunned me? Why would you stun me?"
"To stop the curse he'd put on you," Dumbledore said simply. He frowned and then said, "He was most definitely not thinking-not that he could have known," Dumbledore trailed off, almost musing to himself.
"Know what? What curse?" Harry asked.
"Ah, the Furious Curse," Dumbledore said. "It's a jinx technically, but the effect when placed upon another person is that of a curse. I would imagine you've never read about it." Dumbledore seemed to have adopted his professorial tone for now and paced a few steps with his arms clasped behind his back.
"No, no I don't think so."
"Ah, well, it would most definitely be classified as Dark Arts." He turned to Harry and explained, "You've studied, of course, about Parasitic Enchantments, yes?" Harry nodded. "This is related. It involves a manipulation of the very magic a person possesses and uses that as the magical energy source for a spell. The Furious Curse is one where this parasitic manipulation has been combined with a variant of the Impediment Jinx. The victim's very own magic is manipulated to fuel the spell and prevent them from doing anything they might attempt to do. If you try to step away, you can't move. If you try to speak, your throat will freeze up. If you tried to Disapparate, your very own magic would be keeping you there. Of course, this is very frustrating to the victim and with the increase of one's frustrations-or fury-there is an increase in the raw amount of magical energy available to fuel the curse. Used against someone with a volatile temperament and considerable power-it can escalate with rapid and unpredictable results." Dumbledore looked pointedly at Harry now as he said, "So you see now why I Stunned you to stop the curse."
Harry nodded slowly. Sure he was pissed as hell at Snape but another part of him was amazed at the brilliance of the curse. "How is it cast? What's the incantation?" he asked as his mind recalled the utter feeling of helplessness and increasing panic. "How is it countered?"
"Ah-a much better question," Dumbledore said. The look on his face was unreadable. "It's countered by you recognizing it for what it is and calming yourself and your magic. Total shielding of your mind to prevent your thoughts from freezing up and then retract your magic and regain control of it. To be countered, it requires an incredible amount of self-discipline." He paused a moment and then said, "I'd recommend you focus on reminding yourself how it's countered and leave it at that, Harry."
"But-"
"The Dark Arts are nothing to be taken lightly," Dumbledore said evenly. "The definition of Dark and Light Arts is vague at best. Some spells are considered dark or evil because of the effect they have on someone or something. The Unforgivables-surely you can guess other spells might be used to cause someone pain, kill or control another-however, it's the matter of the emotion and intent of these spells that makes them so unforgivable. But there is another, all together more common characteristic that might cause a spell to be classified as 'Dark Arts'-unpredictable. Unpredictable magic is dangerous, Harry-I cannot stress that enough."
Dumbledore looked long and hard at Harry. "You're saying that spell was unpredictable?" Harry asked. He still wanted to know how to cast it, though.
"Yes, and I am saying you'd do well to steer clear of unpredictable spells."
"But Snape-"
"Should never have used such a spell on you and I will deal with him later."
"But you just let him get away with it now!"
"No, I asked him to leave. It was clear you and he being in each other's presence would accomplish nothing more than inflame your already tenuous working relationship. Plus, when I saw you struggling under the curse, it was apparent that-well, that Professor Snape needed to leave headquarters and your presence immediately."
Harry couldn't read the look on Dumbledore's face again and he scrutinized the old wizard's face. "Why did you assume the shields about my mind were down or breeched when I awoke?"
"If I am not mistaken, his next spell was one to break into your mind."
"And if I'd made an effort to fortify the shields-?"
"-They would have instead only weakened under the Furious Curse, yes." Dumbledore nodded. Dumbledore, slowly and almost cautiously looked over at Harry. "There is another reason.one that I thought perhaps.you mentioned your scar hurt when you awoke?"
"Yes.?" said Harry quietly as he wondered what Dumbledore had thought. He'd never seen Dumbledore look so speculative.
Dumbledore sighed heavily and Harry waited for him to speak. "The connection," Dumbledore gestured at the scar upon Harry's head and paused a moment. "I believe the scar you bear has resulted in some of Lord Voldemort's powers being transferred to you-such as the ability to speak Parseltongue. We've discussed that before." Harry nodded slowly. "The scar still links you to him today. You've experienced his dreams and occasionally seen through his eyes and we suspect, before your skills in Occlumency were honed, he'd found occasion see through yours. There exists a link, Harry, between yourself and Lord Voldemort. A link not only between your minds but also, I believe, between your magic to a certain extent."
Harry's mind sluggishly mulled over these words. "But what does-"
"Have you not always awoke from a dream of Voldemort's with pain in your scar?" Harry nodded. "Have you not always felt something in your scar anytime you've experienced the link to Voldemort?" Harry nodded again. "And you felt pain just before, upon waking up."
"And you think Voldemort used that chance to break into my mind?" Of course, Snape had just told him that had been Voldemort's intent.but was that a coincidence.? "Do you think Snape planned that? Was he told to do that?" It couldn't be just a coincidence.
"No," Dumbledore frowned. "That is not my belief." He looked intently at Harry again before saying, "Remember what I explained about the Furious Curse, Harry? How it draws upon the magical power of a person and uses it to fuel itself?"
Harry nodded and then his jaw dropped as Dumbledore's implications suddenly hit him. "You mean.? You think.? But-Professor-" Harry was shaking his head in unaccepting disbelief. "You think that somehow, through me, Voldemort's magic was.?"
"Siphoned through the link, yes, Harry. Do not misunderstand me-your own powers of magic are considerable and your strength, as well as your temperament, was most likely the very reason Professor Snape," Dumbledore sighed heavily again here, "in your little duel, decided to turn those two things against you. I doubt very much he considered or could have imagined the ramifications of such a spell. Professor Snape is the very last person who would wish to be seen through your eyes if in fact Lord Voldemort did feel some pull at the link and allowed his mind to be open and perhaps link to yours." Dumbledore shook his head gravely. "Especially today and now when he was here to give us intelligence on Lord Voldemort's plans."
"Voldemort will know he's been spying?" Harry hated that he felt any fear (much less culpability) at this thought. It's not that he cared what happened to Snape; he just knew it would hurt the Order to lose their spy.
"Voldemort knows you, myself and the Order believe Severus to be our spy. However, Lord Voldemort, I'm quite sure, also will demand explanations for Severus to have been in your presence today when he had quite specific orders to be elsewhere. When I told Professor Snape to leave, I warned him he might expect Voldemort to know about that curse and what happened."
Harry had a very bad feeling about how Voldemort would treat a servant who disobeyed his orders or, even worse, one who might have made a detour to speak with Harry or other members of the Order of the Phoenix on a day when he should have been working on preparing for attacks.
"I didn't get a chance to tell him what I found out this morning," Harry said quietly. "I have no idea if it would have been of any help or importance that he knew immediately but." Harry looked up at Dumbledore and said, "I was in Gringotts this morning and met with several Goblins." Dumbledore blinked twice, his silver eyebrows arching upwards towards his hairline.
Harry turned and paced a few steps as he said, "I suspect you already know I went out this morning." Harry didn't bother to look at Dumbledore as he said this but heard Phineas snort loudly from his portrait. "I'd been planning to go out this afternoon-Remus knew and Tonks was going to go with me. But then I got the post about our meeting this afternoon and I knew she'd not have time to go with me so I got George to go with. Remus said all I needed to go out was another member of the Order-anyway-he went with me to Gringotts. I needed to exchange some gold and he needed to drop off some papers for an account thing."
Harry stopped pacing now and faced Dumbledore. "When the goblin at the exchange window saw who I was, he pulled us into the back. George was with me the whole time. Anyway, we went back and met with seven goblins-one was Garook, the chief governor. There was, er, Sajak-he was the one who I spoke with this summer when I was at the bank. Also, Ragnok was there-the one who Bill deals with a lot."
Dumbledore held up a hand and blinked again as he asked, "You spoke with the London Bank Board of Governors this morning?"
"Yes," Harry said emphatically. "I've already planned to bring this matter to the Inner Council, but the long story made short is that Fudge is still trying to get his way into a vault-one very specific vault. The goblins said they'd checked the rules and that that they could tell me what it was Fudge had told them-Fudge wants all the books from Lucius Malfoy's vault."
Dumbledore's silver mustache twitched and Harry saw his mouth open, pause and then close again. It was somewhat satisfying to Harry to believe he'd been able to surprise Dumbledore with something.
Harry continued on as he watched Dumbledore process this news. "They, ah, wanted me to promise something in return for this information." Dumbledore inclined his head sharply and peered over his glasses at Harry. "It's, er, it's not major.but, er, they asked me to try to do what I can to get Fudge to back down on his efforts to amend their charter." The stare from Dumbledore was almost growing uncomfortable and Harry rushed on to explain more. "They said they're getting pressure from the international governors of the bank to stop our Minister's efforts. I asked them what they expected from me and I explained that I didn't see what I could possibly do, but they were very clear that all they needed was my word that I would try." Harry took a deep breath as he realized his heart rate had sped up considerably as he'd been speaking. "I told them my priority was to the Order and defeating Voldemort-I assumed Bill's hinted to as much about the Order's aims. I told them that I would bring the matter to discussion with my counsel within the Order and that we would do what we could. That's all I promised and they said they understood."
A knock from the doorway of the stairs that led down to the basement sounded and drew their attention. Kingsley stood in the doorway and looked hesitant as he said, "Excuse me, but Tonks and I should get moving as soon as we can. If there's not anything else.?"
"Certainly, Kingsley," Dumbledore said, turning and walking towards the tall Auror. "We'll come down now and make sure everything is set." Dumbledore turned to Harry, who'd followed across the entry hall. "We've much more to discuss on this but we'll see them out first."
"Yes, sir."
In the basement kitchen, Tonks stood grim faced and solemn beside Moody. Hermione sat across the table, looking worried and questioning all at once as Harry met her gaze.
"Have you worked out what you are going to tell Amelia?" Dumbledore asked.
Kingsley nodded once. "We're going to tell her the tip we've got on the Croftons and suggest a mixed team to go on stake out. I intend to follow along under an Invisibility Cloak as backup. We plan to prepare Portkeys ahead of time and transport any captives to a secure location for questioning."
"I'm volunteering to do the questioning," Moody growled, stepping forward. "And I'll have an enchanted quill and parchment hidden nearby to take dictation so even if I'm killed off, there's a record for someone to find."
"Always cheerful," Tonks muttered. She looked much better now than when Harry had left earlier. "I'm still not sitting back no matter what Snape says, the git. If there's risk in someone being recognized as a threat to the big bad Dark Lord, then I'm sure I can still be of help-I'm going undercover with a false identity. There's no point marking someone else as a target when I can be one that doesn't exist."
Dumbledore sighed and nodded. "Very well. Alastor, I'm not positive Amelia will allow you to do the questioning."
"She will if I promise her a safe location no one knows about," Moody replied. "Kids these days on the force don't know how to investigate and ask the questions. If she's lucky I'll let one person come along and learn how it's done."
"We should go now to speak with Amelia before she meets to address the next shift," Kingsley said.
Dumbledore nodded and stepped aside to let them leave. "Good luck and do come see us tomorrow when the night is over," he said. "I suspect a report would be very long indeed to write. I'll imagine I'll be here much of tomorrow."
Harry nodded to each as they left and Tonks gave him a mock salute as she marched out last. She paused in the doorway though and leaned back in to ask Harry, "Do tell me you got at least one good hit in on Snape before the git left?" She pointed at Harry's cheek on which he could still feel the sting of a few cuts.
His fingers feeling his cheek, Harry gave a wry, half-smile and shrugged apologetically as he shook his head no. Tonks looked shocked; as if she'd not expected this for an answer at all. "Er, I wasn't really trying," he tried to explain. "Just go on and take care of yourself," he said and waved her out the door.
The door shut behind Tonks and Harry felt Hermione looking at him and watching; waiting for an answer to everything that had happened. Harry, though, just felt chilled and walked numbly over towards the crackling fireplace. Harry's eyes caught upon a small pot of Floo powder that hung from a hook that was twisted into the rough-hewn mantle. This morning when he'd tossed the powder into the fire and called George seemed more like a week ago.
"Is anyone going to tell me what happened?" Hermione asked in a shaky voice from the table.
Harry turned from the fire and saw her biting her lip worriedly and looking, narrow-eyed, between himself and Dumbledore.
"Harry made a trip into town this morning, and I must confess, it was not completely without my knowledge," Dumbledore said simply and seated himself at the end of the table. Harry snuck a surprised glance at Hermione and saw she looked slightly disbelieving. "When Harry decided to alter his schedule for the day after reading the post I'd sent, Phineas saw fit to alert me to his change in plans." Quickly, Dumbledore added, "There was no harm done in this-it is not rational for me to believe, Harry that you can be kept in confinement and without allowance for freedoms."
Harry was most surprised to hear this; he thought he'd be chastised for making others worry, abusing trust and for acting rashly. Dumbledore, as if reading his mind, nodded and smiled at Harry as he said, "Yes, it may have been a bit rash of you but when I thought it over, I realized that you did manage to get a member of the Order to escort you and since you said you only had one of the Weasley twins with you, then surely the other would know that you two had left-that made sure someone else knew were you'd gone and when to expect your return. There was not much else I could ask for or claim you'd overlooked."
"Who went out with you-Fred or George?" Hermione said shrilly. She turned and looked at Dumbledore with surprise. "Surely you can't say going out with one of those two is the same as going out with Remus?! Or--or--"
Dumbledore nodded once and answered, "Fred and George may not have Alastor's magical eye or esteemed vigilance, nor do they have an Auror's training. They also do not have Remus' strength or experience but they do however, have a knack for resourcefulness and are loyal to a fault. They are members of the Order as I am sure you recall." Hermione looked like she felt compelled to debate this point further, but Dumbledore, who'd pulled out a gold pocket watch from a robe pocket, said, "Now, getting on with business. Harry, the details of the discussion you had this morning at Gringotts is indeed a matter for the Inner Council. You can assure me though, that there is no pressing actions required immediately?"
Harry nodded confidently. "Very well then. We will need to meet as soon the events of this evening allow us to convene. Professor McGonagall is out on.personal business for about one more day and with any luck shall return tomorrow.
"Now, granted there are only but a few students remaining over the holidays at Hogwarts, I have only Professors Sprout and Flitwick to oversee the school at this time, and so, I must return shortly. However, Harry, you said you had something you wish to discuss with me when we spoke yesterday? I can spare you." he observed the many hands of his pocket watch and said, ".perhaps an hour of my time for this before I must leave."
Hermione looked to be sputtering silently and Harry suspected what she'd really wanted to know about what had happened upstairs with Snape.
"Harry? What was it you needed to talk to me about?" Dumbledore asked, he spared a sidelong glance at Hermione as he asked.
"The voices-I already know," she said. "Tell him, Harry." She clearly felt no compulsion to leave the room.
Harry fought the urge to shrug or roll his eyes. "It hardly seems important now," he said. "What with everything else going on and I'm sure there's more important-"
"Harry." Hermione said warningly.
"All right, all right." Harry scratched the back of his neck and pulled out a chair from the table to sit. At length, Harry told Dumbledore everything he could remember about the growing presence of the voices within his head. Hermione took liberty to interject anytime Harry might have left out any small detail.
Dumbledore sat and listened carefully and without much comment until Harry concluded. After silence where neither Harry nor Hermione could think of anything else to add, Dumbledore remained thoughtful as he twirled one end of his silver mustache around a long finger. "Tell me. Harry," he said. "Do you have any theories as to what or who these voices might be?"
Harry thought back to all the strange personifications he'd attributed to the voices; sometimes he'd thought they'd been lost and searching, other times, restless and worried. There were even occasions where they sounded persuasive and rousing. But to Harry, these notions all seemed very ridiculous and were most likely, he thought, to merely be strange and absurd inventions of his mind as he drifted from wakefulness into dreams. "No sir," Harry answered, shaking his head. "I can't think of any rational or logical explanations."
Dumbledore actually chuckled at this and said, "Well, Harry, I'm afraid logic and rationale are two things not always consistent with magic nor yourself." Twinkling, Dumbledore peered over his silver half-moon glasses at Harry. His smile wavered at Harry's only half-hearted amusement at the comment. "I think, Harry, that your best bet is to trust yourself and your instincts. Perhaps you might add your recollections of your experiences with these voices into your journal. From that, we might be able to see patterns eventually. Now," he said as he rose from the table. "I am very pleased you told me about this-but alas, I've no answers as to what it could mean-"
"You don't have any idea at all, Professor?" Hermione interjected.
"Well, I could always dream up some bizarre theory, Hermione. But I have none that is neither logical nor rational." Dumbledore twinkled again at Harry.
"How can you not be alarmed about this?" Hermione nearly shouted. "Professor-Harry's hearing voices every night even when his mind is supposedly blocked to all external penetration!"
In the shadow of a vague annoyance that Hermione and Dumbledore seemed to be having a conversation about Harry as if he wasn't even there, Harry's thoughts began to wander. Occlumency blocked his mind but what did Dumbledore just tell him only an hour ago? That not only his mind but also his magic was connected in some way to Voldemort.
"Harry," Dumbledore said placing a hand upon his shoulder. "I do need to return to Hogwarts now. We've discussed.many things today in a short amount of time. Each topic alone merits a thorough examination and discussion of its own and we should plan to do so in the near future." Dumbledore looked down solemnly at Harry. "As far as tonight and the rest of your holiday-I assume, since you have not brought it up, that you do not wish to return to Hogwarts?"
"No," Harry said, frowning. "Why-because of Voldemort? No." A part of Harry wanted to know if his mind's shields were strong enough to withstand Voldemort without any assistance from the Hogwarts wards. But Harry couldn't imagine what, besides information, Voldemort would want from his mind. "Unless-do you think I should, sir?"
Harry felt Hermione's questioning stare and he turned to her with a sigh to explain, "Snape told me Voldemort intends to test just how well I can withstand him attacking my mind now over holiday. Says they think Hogwarts and its protections were helping to hold up my shields."
"Hogwarts and all its protections didn't help Harry last year," Hermione said accusingly to Dumbledore. Great, Hermione's in a splendid mood and I get to be alone with her for the rest of the afternoon, Harry thought sarcastically.
Dumbledore nodded, conceding, and said, "True, true, however, that was Harry allowing his mind to stray from within its self. The practice of Occlumency keeps not only others from penetrating, but also keeps one within their own mind." He paused here and templed his hands before his chest. "My guess is that Lord Voldemort may either choose to lure Harry to his own mind-" he looked sternly at Harry now, "-and I cannot stress enough how imperative it is for you to remain in your own mind." Harry nodded. "It is also a possibility that Voldemort might try to connect to Harry's mind and steal information. I have complete confidence and faith in Harry's ability as an Occlumens to resist any such attack."
Dumbledore's confidence was heartening and it did much to disperse any reservations or doubts Harry had. "I'm staying here. We'll be fine here."
"Very well then," Dumbledore said. "And I can also trust that both of you will remain within headquarters tonight and there will be no." The headmaster paused here and eyed the ceiling as he searched for the words.
Harry, dully, replied, "No plans to save the world, play the hero or generally risk our lives and cause worry."
"Excellent," Dumbledore said and patted Harry on the back. "You are on holiday, after all and I really must be off. If you need anything, do call me on the Floo or, in an emergency where you need to contact someone at the Ministry, call Arthur Weasley or even Amelia if it's urgent."
Dumbledore left them alone then and Harry couldn't help but feel stifled by the burning looks Hermione was giving him. It was obvious she wanted to pepper him with yet more questions and demand further explanations. He just wasn't in the mood.
"Do you have a timetable for revision over the holidays?" he asked to break the silence.
"Oh, well, yes, I do. I wasn't thinking we'd start until after Christmas. Do you want to do some revision now?"
"Not really, but maybe a copy of it would be nice." Harry ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "I need to put together a training schedule for Moody. He wants to set up times to come over here and work throughout holiday."
"I can get one for you," Hermione said. She was biting her lip and before Harry could think of something else to distract her, she said, "I really thought Dumbledore would have more say about these voices! I mean, how can he be so unconcerned?"
"Maybe because there's nothing to be done about it?" Harry said.
"What does that mean? Of course there's something to be done! There's always something to be done, Harry," Hermione said patronizingly.
"What? You're going to find a book on the voices in my head?" Harry said tersely. "Don't be ridiculous--I'm a category of abnormal all unto myself."
"That's not what-"
"I'm going upstairs," he said and then Disapparated without waiting to hear anything else Hermione had to say.
In his room, Harry found his bed made, the room tidied and the bag containing Mister Weasley's gift sitting on his foot bench. Harry pulled out the box with the small muggle stereo and turned it over in his hands.
How many muggles had died last night?
How many men, women or children who'd been looking forward to a pleasant Christmas with friends and family were now dead?
Dead and not even a body to properly mourn.nothing but a soulless, blackened and rotting corpse.were those corpses already turned into ash by now? Perhaps scattered by the wind or tread under foot by detectives trying to make some sense of the senseless.
What terror must they have felt in their last dying moments?
Cold.icy cold.the rattling breaths of the putrid and rotting Dementors.
Could they feel the rotted, slimy and scabbed hands of the creatures as they prised open their mouths?
What does it feel like when your very life and soul are being sucked out of your body through your mouth to be consumed by this.this thing?
"Harry-there you are! You're-what's wrong?" Hermione stood in the doorway, looking concernedly at Harry who'd turned away as soon as he heard her. He was surprised to feel some part of him churned with annoyance at her. He sniffed and realized somehow a few tears had tracked their way down his face. Hurriedly, he wiped at them with his sleeve. He gasped slightly when he felt her place her hands upon his arms from behind. "Harry?" she asked softly. Something melted from deep within his chest at the concern in her voice. He didn't want to be the reason she worried.
He turned slowly and stopped halfway, still staring down, unseeing, at the box in his hands. Hermione moved one hand to the small of his back and raised the other to caress his cheek.
"Why is there blood on your cheek?" she asked softly.
Harry turned again and set down the box before striding over to his desk. "Snape," was his only answer.
He heard the bed covers rustle as she sat down. "Are you ever going to tell me what happened with you and him?" she asked quietly. He wouldn't mind telling her things so much if she would just not demand it; she wasn't doing that now.
She sounded hurt to Harry; like he'd hurt her feelings by not telling her everything all at once and by turning away from her when she was only showing concern. He supposed that was his intention though when he'd turned away. He didn't turn back either when he responded, "What do you want to know?"
He heard her sigh and heard her shift again on the bed. "Whatever there is to know, I guess."
That's Hermione, ever the fact-finder. Where could he even begin with everything 'there is to know'?
Softly, she began to speak, "We were all downstairs when Moody, who must have seen you with his eye, stops and jumps up to stare at the ceiling. Professor Dumbledore asked him what was going on and Moody just said Snape had you pinned against a wall. Oh, Harry, I wanted to go up there immediately and help you but Dumbledore told us to wait and let the both of you work out your differences. He started to go on about how the both of you needed to learn to cooperate and then Moody just breaks in and says you're duelling with him. Dumbledore told us to stay put and hurtled upstairs." She paused here and Harry, still not looking at her, aimlessly, stepped over towards his desk for something upon which to focus.
"We could hear Dumbledore from the kitchen when he shouted. The last time I've ever heard him so angry was.well, last year when Mundungus fell off his shift. Oh, Harry I was so worried. Moody told us when Snape had left and then said he'd go upstairs and make sure everything was okay. He comes back down then, not a minute or two later and says we're all to stay put." She paused and Harry idly moved a book around, staring down at it and not really seeing.
Her voice sounded faraway now when she said, "The others went on about their business, but Harry, I couldn't stop wondering if Dumbledore was telling you off or that he needed to heal you in some way or if you were given some really awful news or.or something."
"I'm sorry you were worried," Harry said. "We were only talking and no, he didn't tell me off."
"So it wasn't your fault?" He was at least pleased to hear relief and not just surprise at this comment. "I hope he told Professor Snape off," Hermione disapprovingly.
Harry turned around and said, "Snape's probably going to be punished by Voldemort for what he did, not by Dumbledore." Mumbling, Harry added, "And it's probably as much my fault as anyone's."
"What-" Hermione looked bewildered, "-what do you mean?"
Harry told her about the Furious Curse and he ended sitting beside her on the bed. He'd left out the detail about the possible connection between his and Voldemort's magic. She believed Snape had merely compromised Harry's shields with the curse. "You don't think he did it on purpose, do you?" she asked. "You know, breech your shields and soften your mind for Voldemort?"
Harry looked at her in disbelief. "Hermione, you're the one who always says he must be trustworthy."
"Yes, but he's never done anything like this before, has he? And Dumbledore was obviously very displeased about it."
"Hermione, I can't believe you have me of all people, defending that git, but no, I do not think he did it on purpose." Harry shook his head. "No, I set him off is what happened. He got ticked off at something I said and that's when he tried to-to intimidate me by throwing me up against the wall. Takes more than that though, believe me and I should have just let him try. But instead, I Disapparated from his grasp and when he saw my wand drawn, he tried to disarm me. It all went downhill from there." Harry ran a hand through his hair yet again.
"And your cheek with the blood?" Hermione asked, gingerly reaching over to touch her hand to it.
Harry rolled his eyes and stood up to walk over to the mirror in the wardrobe. "Must be one of his favorite little tricks. Some conjured shards of silver or such that can cut through a Shield Charm." Harry lit his wand and pointed it at his cheek as he examined the cuts in the mirror. "I saw Snape use the same trick on my dad once." The cuts were mostly healed; there were just some streaks of sticky and drying blood left. "Be right back," Harry said as he went out to the bathroom to wash the blood off.
After a quick wash of his face, Harry returned to the room to find Hermione staring at him with her mouth gaping. "What," Harry asked, stopping at her look and running his hand over his cheek. "Did I miss a spot?"
But Hermione was still looking at him like he had three heads. "What?" he asked again.
She snapped her mouth shut and swallowed before imploringly asking, "Harry, how could you have seen Snape use 'that trick' on your dad?"
"Oh, bugger," Harry said reflexively. How did he explain this? "You wouldn't really know about that." he said absently, hoping she'd just accept it as something she didn't need to know.
Hermione snorted and looked at him incredulously. "Obviously," she said, still gaping. "Well?"
"I'd really rather not talk about it." Harry mumbled evasively as he turned away towards the fire, searching for something to change the topic and struggling to keep some part of himself from wanting to shout and scream.
"Harry," Hermione says in still stunned disbelief. "I'd like to know where you could have ever seen your father and-"
"In a pensieve, all right!?" Harry said in a strangled voice; half-turned towards her and clenching his fists as he steadied himself with one hand on the mantle. He wasn't going to talk about this and why-why did she keep pushing him to tell her everything? Why this--this of all things? Not this.anything but this.
He could hear her frown when she asked, "Whose pensieve? Was this like the time you snooped in Professor Dumbledore's, because, Harry, you know that was wrong."
"SNAPE'S!" he shouted, whirling around to face her. "AND YES I SNOOPED IN SNAPE'S PENSIEVE!"
He wasn't really seeing anything as he shouted and he knew-he just knew she wouldn't want to let this drop until she knew everything.
"And you want to know what I saw in that pensieve?" His face crumpled then at seeing her surprise and shock on her face. "My father.and he was an utter bastard!" Harry said viciously.
"Harry.I." Hermione was and trembling at his outburst and she looked like she didn't know whether to cower back away or whether to reach out to him.
"Snape's always said my father was an arrogant show off and you know what? He'S right! But he wasn't just arrogant.he was.cruel."
He'd held these thoughts in now for so long. Now that these words were finally being said, he just couldn't stop shouting them.
"AND YOU WANT TO KNOW WHAT ELSE?" Harry roared, stepping closer to the bed.
His voice, still strangled with emotion but alarmingly steady, said, "Snape caught me in his pensieve-the fucking pensieve where I watched my father and Sirius treat him like filth and bully him in front of a whole load of onlookers." Harry's jaw ached from clenching his teeth together roughly as he spit out his words. "Yeah, that's right and Snape tossed me out on my arse and told me to never come back.so guess--guess why I never mastered Occlumency, Hermione-go on-guess!"
Hermione just whimpered and shook her head. He wasn't about to let her back away now.not when she'd been pushing to know just minutes before.
Harry sneered at her, "You always want to know-got to know! Don't you want to know?"
"Harry." she pleaded, tears in her eyes. "Stop, please."
She sobbed and it broke his heart but he still pressed on. "I didn't even care," he said hollowly. "Snape didn't want me back and there was no way in hell I was going back. And you were right, weren't you, Hermione? You're always right, of course. I should have mastered Occlumency then."
"Harry."
He spun around then, away from her, and choked out, "Sirius would still be alive then, wouldn't he?" Harry laughed then. "I guess that sort of makes it Sirius' own fault for how he died, doesn't it? He and my father both got off on torturing the oddball Snape and guess who gets the last laugh in the end?" He laughed again; a half-sob more like and his voice sounded empty--even to himself. "Snape.'Snivellus' they called him.he'd kill me if he ever knew I told anyone about what I saw."
Harry found himself facing the mantle above the fireplace again and on it, sat a photograph. It was a photo of James and Sirius. Sirius had found it over his time spent in the house and framed it up. Harry couldn't bear to look at it.
"You can't imagine how much I hate Snape, Hermione.you can't even begin to imagine." He could hear Hermione sniffling; he'd made her cry, he was sure. "He's made it his life's work to make my life hell and all because my father was an arrogant arse. It was one thing when I thought Snape was full of it, but now, it's so much worse.it's unbearable to know that that greasy.Snape .that he's right."
He didn't know for how long he stood there; trying to keep himself composed and trying to pull himself back together. This wasn't what he needed to be doing now. He didn't need to be getting stuck on the stupid shortcomings of his father. While some part of him felt pleased to have said these things out loud, a whole other, larger part felt he never should have said any of this and that he needed to go back and make it like it had never happened.
He turned to face Hermione and saw her sitting, with her back up against the headboard and a pillow clutched in front of her as she blinked up at him teary-eyed--almost warily. Slowly, he walked over and around to the side of the bed. She looked so beautiful there. He legs drawn up.his hands tingled with the memory of the smoothness of those legs. She looked so delicate.so fragile and so like something that might break.something that could break.
He silently sat upon the bed; just far enough away to not touch her but to still feel the heat from her body. He craved that heat.he wanted her more than anything But he couldn't.not now.he wished she didn't know what she now knew.
He only realized he'd pulled his wand when he saw her eyes fix upon it. He watched her eyes stare at the hand resting upon his knee and clutching his wand. He waited for her eyes to turn back to his and when, finally, they did, he saw the fear reflected and saw the very word whispering about in his mind. Obliviate.
But the words that came out of his mouth weren't that incantation. They held no spell power and sounded very childish to Harry's ears. "Why.why do you ask me about things I don't want to share.why?"
Her eyes darted to his wand and then back to his face.
"Why can't you accept there are things I don't want you to know? There are things I don't want to know?" he implored.
Her face softened but he didn't want her sympathy. "You think you know me better than anyone and you do--you do. But.I hate that sometimes. Can't you understand how much I hate that?"
The fear was back in her eyes. Good. "There are some things about me you don't ever want to know.you can't imagine some things I've done." Crucio. "You can't imagine some of things I've seen.I've heard." Freak.
She looked messy and faraway then, until he realized it was his tears distorting his vision. "I don't want you to know everything.I don't know everything."
He blinked and could see her eyes again. She was wondering how this could really be him. He could make her forget everything he'd just said and done and she'd never know.she'd think they'd been snogging or something and he could just forget.pretend.
"Harry." she said, her voice breaking. She sobbed once and he saw her eyes roam as she struggled to hold back from reaching out to him. "You don't understand," she said. Didn't he? "I love you," she said.
The breath was sucked out of his lungs then and he felt himself collapse from within.
"You shouldn't," he said, tears filling his eyes and his throat seizing up. "You shouldn't." He wanted to get away--away from himself and the tears just wouldn't stop. He slid off the bed and onto the floor, cradling his head in his hands and said again, "You shouldn't."
"Harry."
"Leave me alone." He knew she hadn't moved to leave yet and, thickly through his tears, said, "Just leave!"
"But--"
"GET OUT!"
He woke up with a start; stiff and cold on the floor beside his bed. He'd been having a dream where Hermione acted like she didn't know who he was and didn't remember him at all. She'd laughed and pointed at him and then flipped him upside down, exposing his pants to the entire school.
He stood up and saw the sun had already gone down and his room was dark but for the last dying embers of a fire. Hedwig hooted softly to him from her perch in the corner. She'd returned from the Burrow sometime while he'd slept. He walked over to her and found a small package of owl treats just behind her perch. He stroked her head once as she nipped the treat from his hand.
"You get all those letters to the Weasleys?" he asked her hoarsely.
She clicked her beak at him as if it were a very silly question.
He slipped out then, careful to make sure the hall was clear, to the bathroom and when he returned, the fire had been rekindled and a tray of food was set out.
The thought of leaving his room and running into anyone was unthinkable right now. He locked the door and crawled into bed, still wearing his clothes. He wanted to just close his eyes and sleep.to forget. This had been such a long day already and the worst hadn't even started.
And that was stupid, wasn't it, he thought. Falling asleep with your mind full of awful and swirling thoughts. He mentally berated himself for being so careless and especially now. He closed his eyes, intent upon straightening up all the clutter about his mind.
But after several minutes of this, he decided there was just too much from today to sort through in his head. He shoved off the duvet then and went over to his desk. He sifted through a small stack of book on the desk and found his journal. He felt a pang of guilt upon seeing the leather book that Hermione had given to him for his last birthday. I think it might help you, she'd said. Yet again, she'd been right.
Much later, Remus had stopped by to try to talk to Harry, but he still wasn't much in the mood. It was only out of obligation that Harry answered Remus' questions about the afternoon meeting with Tonks, Shacklebolt and Dumbledore. At first, Harry thought Remus surely could have gotten the information from Hermione, but then it occurred to Harry that perhaps she was being just as reclusive and uncommunicative as he.
"Here," Harry said, handing Remus a parchment. "It's a report I wrote up about my meeting with the goblins this morning." Remus' eyebrows arched at this. "Yeah, yeah, I know, I know. Anyway, we'll go over it all with the Inner Council. I wrote it up so as to disseminate the information expediently and so everyone would be up to speed when we do meet. That-and I'll surely be sick of repeating it to everyone."
Remus nodded and took the scroll and tucked it away in his robes. "I picked up some muggle papers on the way home," he said.
"What'd they say?" Harry could only imagine.
Remus shrugged. "The Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee seems to have been working overtime today. The latest editions have something about a fast-acting fungal epidemic hitting in sporadic locales and maybe being linked to exotic pets or imported fruits."
Harry raised his eyes at this. It was amazing what people would believe. "How many?" he asked.
Remus wouldn't meet his eye and replied, "Hundreds." Harry let out a hiss and Remus nodded knowingly. "There're no accurate counts. They can't really identify the corpses and as they've taken so long in investigating this 'mysterious thing', it's very likely they'll never get an accurate count."
"Has Fudge said anything? Is there anything in the Prophet?"
Remus frowned. "I don't think Fudge will see an upside to telling the Wizarding world that the Dementors are out and on the move."
"What?!"
"Yes, well, think, Harry. Most people in our world don't care one way or the other about muggles." Remus ran a hand over his worn grey slacks. "I hate to say this, but well, as long as the Dementors remain in the muggle world, then at least we know their numbers aren't increasing."
"Remus!" Harry was appalled.
"I'm sorry, Harry," he said apologetically. "But you know it's true."
Harry shook his head and looked off across the room. "Isn't there a way to destroy them? Not just chase them away, but destroy them?" Remus was at a loss. "There's got to be a way, Remus."
"You know as much as I do about Dementors, Harry. Maybe even more."
Hermione might know."Are you coming down to eat dinner?" Remus asked. "I thought I'd hang out down there in case there are any firecalls."
"No," Harry said absently. "I already had a late tea."
"I see.so, should I even ask why.?"
"No," was Harry's terse reply.
Remus didn't ask again and left Harry to further brood and sulk alone. After two hours, Harry had exhausted every book on every shelf in his room and found nothing on the Furious Curse. The other option here at headquarters was to check the library. Its contents had been picked over extensively in the purge of cursed and possibly dangerous objects but maybe, Harry thought, that would a likely place to find out about a questionable curse. Unfortunately, he was well aware that there was a very high probability that someone else had already retreated into the sanctuary of the book-lined walls.
The bed, empty and looking forlorn, seemed to mock Harry. He couldn't think about sleeping; not now when he knew somewhere out there innocent lives were being not just lost, but slaughtered in the name of war and blood purity and lord knows what else Voldemort used as a battle cry. And the bed, empty and cold, mocked him because he couldn't bring himself to climb into it alone. He hadn't seen Hermione since she left him wallowing in his own self-doubts and whatever else had crawled under his skin to fester.
He knew he needed to apologize to her. Not just apologize but beg for forgiveness for being such an arse. In all the years they'd been friends, he's never lashed out like that at Hermione. Well, last year when he first arrived here at headquarters after a miserable half of summer came close, but even then, it'd been Ron and Hermione together that he'd lashed out at. Never had he been so spiteful like that and never could he ever recall feeling so miserable about doing anything in his life.
She'd been crying when she left him earlier and he couldn't shake the image of her tears; her eyes that had held fear--a fear of him and that had questioned who he really was. Her eyes had blamed him for the hurt she'd felt. They weren't wrong. He knew it then and he knew it now. He still just could not understand why he'd said and pushed like he'd done. It was like some part of him knew she'd have to forgive him. It was only once and she couldn't blame him for being on edge and a bit volatile at times. Like there was some part inside that wanted to prove to himself that she would forgive him and that even if he was horrible or awful and yelled at her, that she wouldn't leave him. She couldn't leave him, a small and childlike voice in his head begged.
Round about midnight, Harry still couldn't stand the thought of sleep. It had as much to do with wondering what was going on about the country as not wanting to curl up alone. The house had been quiet all night and he decided to chance it and take a walk.
In the hallway, he passed by one set of doors to the deserted practice hall and then stopped just before passing the door to Hermione's room. He could hardly ever remember her spending a night in there. There'd been one night of course that they'd both spent in there and he remembered it all too well. The door was ajar and he could see no light from within. He listened intently and couldn't hear the breathing of deep sleep. What would we he even say to her? What could he say? If only he could just see her.see that she was all right. The door, as if on its own, swung inward slowly and spilled light from the hallway onto an empty bed. Part of him was relieved.
He walked past the door to Remus' room, which was also empty, and soundlessly descended the stairs. Down a flight, he suspected he'd find her in the room at the end of the hall. It seemed like a mile from where he stood now at the other end of the corridor. His steps were slow but he was still drawn as he walked towards the door at the end of the hall. What had she told him and Ron once when they were younger? That even when she'd been a primary school child and friends could not be found, she'd always had her books. Ron had laughed at that then and said she should abandon her books since she obviously had he and Harry for friends and they were certainly more entertaining than any book.
But books don't hurt you.they don't let you down and make you afraid. Well, most books didn't of course. You never knew in the Wizarding world.
The door arrived in front of him before he knew it and he saw it was closed completely. It wasn't left ajar and he couldn't see any inviting light softly spilling from beneath the door. It seemed much, much more ominous than her half-open bedroom door. It took a few moments before he decided he was making a mockery of the much-vaunted Gryffindor courage by standing out in the hall like a coward. He held his breath as he twisted the doorknob and pushed open the door--to reveal an empty and dark room.
Merrr-ow. Crookshanks weaved through Harry's legs and pushed his way into the library through the now-open door. For a moment, He thought it meant Hermione really was in there but then, Crookshanks, seemingly completed his investigation of the room and slinked out.
Harry walked back down the hallway. Maybe she's in the kitchen with Remus? He didn't really fancy seeing her now after their--his blow up with someone else around. He was dimly aware of his decisions to turn into the drawing room as he'd passed the doors and only stopped when he heard a distressed sigh from the sofa in front of him.
Harry's breath caught in his throat as he saw Hermione curled up into the corner of the sofa with her head leaning against the back. A yawn from the hearth showed Fang, sprawled out and enjoying the warmth from the still burning fire.
Harry, who now found himself in front of the sofa and looking down upon her, kneeled down as he watched the firelight glint off her hair. A book lay open upon her lap and looked about to slide off at any moment. He quietly took the book from its precarious resting spot, closed it and set it aside. A Compelling Compendium of Dark Creatures.
He wanted to smooth back her hair that was tousled and falling forward, obscuring her lovely face. Her lips worked soundlessly as her brow furrowed and he desperately hoped she wasn't having some awful dream like he'd had earlier. Those lips.her mouth was parted slightly and, as ever, it held a perpetual pout to them that always seemed to make them so irresistible.
Her brow furrowed again and she frowned in her sleep as she shifted. Without his consent, his hand reached out to brush back her hair from her face and his heart leapt as he felt her lean into his hand and sigh softly, as if soothed from his touch. Her cheek then, cupped within his palm, snuggled down further into the sofa. As his hand was trapped beneath her head, he made himself comfortable on the floor in front of her and stared off into the fire. He tried desperately to listen to the voices he heard just before loosing his battle with sleep. If he'd had to guess, he'd say they'd been riled into chaos again.
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NOTE: As usual, I will remind you that there is a Yahoo group for this fic. The group name is HP_AoF and a link to the site can be found on my bio page. ~~~Cheers~~~