Disclaimer: If anyone's getting money off this story it isn't me.
Warning: Some content is not appropriate for younger viewers, parental discretion in advised.
Author's Note: I love reviewers. Should you ever walk up to me on the street and say "I reviewed your story" I will kiss you. I suggest you try this with random people you meet. Good thing I didn't give out my name. Thank you everyone who reviewed. I don't like to put long author's notes in because I think it takes away from the story. If you really want a response to your comments or questions I'll e-mail you. Just say "e-mail me" or something. Thanks again for reading.
In Fire Lies Redemption
By Marz
Chapter 13
The No Smoking Section
His teeth knocked against something hard as his back arched. Water spurted out of his mouth and he coughed. His hands clenched around nothing, and he twisted with out leverage in the freezing mud. The loud hacking coughs shook him about until the edges of his vision turned red. Harry rolled onto his side and retched, more lake water pouring out.
He lay shivering in the mud, the slick stuff flowing into his ear, but his head hurt so badly he did not care. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to sleep, but a hand grabbed his shoulder and shook him.
"You shouldn't sleep in the mud, it causes repetitive mispronunciations syndrome and toenail deformity," said a detached and slightly scolding voice.
"Uhhhhhhhhh," Harry moaned and tried to curl up in a ball to avoid more shaking.
"We should probably get back to the castle now, the thestrals are circling."
After several long painful minutes Harry finally figured out who was talking to him.
"Luna," he said quietly.
"Yes, that's me," she said.
"Where am…" he broke off as his chest spasmed again. When he finally stopped coughing he was shaking all over. Luna Lovegood put her hands in his armpits and tried to levy him to his feet. After much slipping and struggling he ended up in a kneeling position. He was breathing hard and coughing intermittently, but at least he was warming up a bit. The only problem with that was as circulation returned so did feeling. The stinging sensation in his arms grew and slowly he looked down at them. The sleeves of his pajamas were ripped to shreds and blood was oozing slowly from dozens of crescent shaped bites. He tried to wipe the mud of one of the cuts on his right arm but froze.
That can't be right I still feel them. He raised his left hand before his eyes. It was slicked with mud, and for a moment he thought he had gotten it wrong, miscounted somehow. He wiggled his thumb, one, then his index finger, two, then his middle finger, three, then…then… He leaned to the side and retched again.
"Yes, you really should go to Madam Pomfrey about that," said Luna. She threw some article of clothing around his shoulders. He looked towards her. Luna was disheveled and covered in mud and her lip was bleeding. Her eyes were as unfocused as ever, but the rest of her facial expression seemed to be directed at him.
"My fingers are missing," he said dumbly.
"I haven't seen them, sorry."
Luna knelt down next to him and pulled one of his arms around her shoulders. With a grunt she pulled them both to their feet and they staggered up the bank toward the castle.
Harry's mind remained a hazy mess as they slowly traveled toward the school, and it seemed days before they finally arrived at the castle steps. Once they passed through the gates Luna took her wand from behind her ear and levitated Harry onto a stretcher, they were half way to the hospital wing when Headmaster Dumbledore arrived.
******
"Luna, how is it you knew Mr. Potter was in the lake?" asked Professor Flitwick.
"The dog informed me."
"The dog?"
"He was quite insistent that I go out and fetch Harry."
"A dog came into your dormitory and told you to get Harry out of the lake?"
"No, how would a dog get into the girls dormitory?"
"Then how…"
"I think it may have been a Grim rather then an actual dog. I'm fairly certain I was asleep when I saw it, as it just suddenly appeared and started barking, and didn't wake anyone else up. I suppose, if it was a Grim, I'll be dead soon. I hope they have chocolate pudding at lunch."
"A Grim spoke to you?"
"No."
"But you said it told you to go get Harry?"
"No I didn't. Grims can't speak,"
Professor Flitwick pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment. "Luna, please explain to me how you learned Harry was in the lake."
"The dog, or possibly the Grim, appeared in the dormitory and started barking."
"And then?"
"I knew that Harry had gone into the lake."
"But the information was conveyed how?"
"It was barking."
The professor nodded slowly, and rather then compound the frustrated headache that was building up behind his eyes, he said "Please continue your story."
"After the dog informed me Harry was in the lake I put on my shoes and bathrobe, and went to the kitchen."
"The kitchen?" Flitwick interrupted.
"Yes, for crackers and pineapple."
He stared at her quizically but she continued unperturbed.
"Then I went down to the lake, broke open the pineapple and threw it into the water, to summon merpeople."
She paused for a moment as if waiting for him to interrupt again but he only nodded for her to continue.
"When the mermaids arrived I explained to them through semaphore that Harry was in the lake, and they found him, and brought him to the shore, at which time I gave them the crackers."
"Crackers?"
"Mermaids appreciate crackers. It is terribly difficult to make them under water you know." When he nodded she continued. "I dragged Harry onto the shore, and as he wasn't breathing I had to resuscitate him. Then he threw up and I helped him walk to the castle. I would have used a levitation spell to carry him but we were right in the middle of the new wards so there wasn't really the opportunity. Will there be chocolate pudding at lunch?"
****
He lay on his back watching dust motes drift down towards him. When that strained his eyes too much, he would stare at the folds in the white curtain surrounding his bed, any thing at all to avoid looking at his left hand. The other bite marks had healed and faded to pale white scars, but Madam Pomfrey's potions had been unable to regenerate his two missing fingers. She told him it required a much more powerful healing potion then she kept in stock
The door creaked open and Harry instinctively turned his head toward the sound. His stomach roiled as he accidentally looked at his swollen, dead looking left hand. He gagged slightly, but as he had not eaten anything but potions since being dragged from the lake he was not in danger of making a mess on himself. Two sets of footsteps made their way to the curtain. Dumbledore pulled aside the curtains, revealing himself, Professor McGonagall, and floating in the air a few feet behind them, Professor Graypond.
"Good morning Harry," said the Headmaster gently.
Harry nodded in response.
"How do you feel?"
"I've been better."
The headmaster nodded solemnly. "We have some things we need to discuss. The first being, do you have a history of sleep walking?"
"No," said Harry,
"Not even as a very young child?"
"No." Harry was not certain this was true, but as it was hard to sleep walk inside of a cupboard he was sure no one else would be able to tell him about it.
"Then I think we must assume it has something to do with the potion." As the Headmaster said these words Professor Graypond floated forward.
"There's nothing in that potion I can take out without making it useless, just tie him down when he sleeps," the skeletal creature said.
Harry of course did not like that idea at all, but before he could complain, Headmaster Dumbledore provided another solution. "The linking spell currently at work in the castle could be expanded to contain Harry as well, that would keep him out of the lake at least."
"And some additional charms on the fat lady to keep him from wandering out during the night," suggested McGonagall.
Harry, feeling rather out of the loop, went back to staring at the dust traversing the ceiling. His attention was only regained when the doors of the hospital wing again burst open, and Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger entered. Hermione had a rolled-up copy of the Daily Prophet under her arm and a worried look on her face. Harry was rather relieved when they did not ask idiotic questions like "how are you feeling?" Perhaps they were getting too used to visiting him. He was sure he had spent more time in the hospital then in classes that year. Without ceremony, Hermione unfurled the paper, showing them all the headline.
Boy-Who-Lived Attempts Suicide:
Depressed Young Man Rescued From Watery Grave.
Harry said something inappropriate then, but fortunately his head of house could not hear him over her own expletives.
******
There was an art to making coffee. It could not just be poured into a cup and set on the edge of a desk, there had to be a tray and a little pot of cream and a bowl of sugar cubes. And of course a smile was imperative. You could not serve the Minister of Magic coffee without a sufficiently submissive smile on your face or he would suspect you were after his job. All of these things Charles Smith learned on his first day of work as a junior assistant to the Undersecretary to the Minister, not so much from being told as from receiving glares from the Undersecretary until everything, including his face, was arranged properly. Only when Umbridge exposed her tiny pointed teeth, in some bizarre attempt to show approval did Charles know he had permission to present the morning coffee to Fudge. If he had not taken on the job intending to destroy both of them, he knew he would be planning to by the end of his first day.
With the first cup of coffee, presented at 10 am, Charles had planted magical listening devices on the Minister's desk and on the back of his chair. With the second cup of coffee, delivered at 11am, Charles had stolen the keys to the Minister's filing cabinet. Upon returning to collect the used cups at 11:30, while the Minister was off to lunch, Charles had copied every single file in the cabinet. After a quick shrinking spell, to fit the files in his pocket, and a pause to restock the candy in the ornate tray on the Minister's desk, Charles returned to his desk in the lobby and began to compile his report for the head of the Order.
*****
He tightened the belt once more. The worn leather creaked as he gave it an experimental tug. Satisfied, Kingsley Shacklebolt marched out of the room and down the stairs. Tonks and Lupin were already waiting for him. They had tried their best to dress in muggle attire. Tonks had on black suit and a vinyl rain slicker, Lupin wore blue jeans and a sweat shirt. They would all be enchanted to repel attention, but Kingsley thought even without it they would not attract too much notice.
"Ready?" Kingsley asked.
They both nodded and together they raised their wands, and disapparated.
The town was high up on a hill, its view of the sea blocked by a massive industrial cannery. The air smelled of seaweed, fish, and very faintly of smoke. At last count the population of Harrington had numbered 970. It had apparently dropped to zero in the past few days and the Department of Muggle Relations had taken great steps to conceal how.
Kingsley, Lupin, and Tonks stood back to back in the middle of the town's main street, their wands drawn. No cars drove on the cracked pavement. Store windows were smashed in and the sidewalk was littered with glass. Doors hung open. A strong wind passed through the town, rattling loose shingles on rooftops, and distantly the ocean sloshed onto the shore, but no other sound, human or animal, could be heard. The bright midday sun did nothing to banish the sinister shadow inside the surrounding buildings.
"I think this would be a right awful time to split up." said Tonks in a near whisper.
They walked slowly through the empty town, looking carefully for traps or observers. In front of the First Harvest Bakery a canister of flour had been upended, hundreds of footprints spread it up and down the street. Lupin bent down and inspected the tracks, waving his wand over them and mumbling, until they glowed faintly. Light flowed up from the prints and formed a tiny sphere above Lupin's outstretched palm. The sphere circled three times over and under his hand and then stopped hovering beneath his knuckles.
"Three nights ago, at about two in the morning." Lupin said finally. He wrote the date and time in a small notebook he pulled from his pocket. They followed the tracks to an empty lot at the end of Main Street. The weedy grass in the lot had been trampled flat. Hundreds of footprints were broken up by large tire tracks. Kingsley was no expert in muggle vehicles, but the tracks had to have come from an eighteen-wheeler at least. Tonks took out a camera and the air filled with flashing lights and clicks. They spread out looking for evidence.
The foot prints led to the tire tracks implying that the muggles had abandoned, or been forced to abandon their homes and were transported elsewhere. There was no evidence of magic yet, only veiled hints that would have made the hair on the back of Kingsley's neck stand up, had he not shaved his head that morning. He walked towards Lupin who was digging at one of the tracks. Kingsley looked down over his should.
"What is it?"
"A purse I think," he said, freeing it from the dirt. Lupin scraped off most of the mud. The purse was fake brown leather. Inside was a broken compact mirror, a wallet, an envelope stuffed full of pounds, and the deed to a house three blocks away. The I.D. in the wallet declared it the property of Emma Johnson.
They searched the lot for several more minutes, finding dropped possessions and articles of clothing.
"We'll need to check out the police station," said Kingsley. It was there they found the first witness.
The station was a small single story building. The door was wide open, and the steps leading up to it were littered with papers. Kingsley went first into the lobby, eyes darting. The white plaster walls were peppered with holes. A desk lay on its side, perhaps it had been used as cover. The cabinets were all open, and an empty gun rack lay exposed. Tonks slipped on the shell casings on the floor, and was forced to catch hold of Lupin's arm. Kingsley led them out the back of the room, to the holding cells. The first thing Kingsley noticed was the stench, like a latrine in direct sunlight. The two men already in the room paid it no mind.
The officer was in full uniform, lying on the floor. His gun lay ignored a few inches from his right hand. A huge black fly buzzed around his head. They watched as it landed on the man's wide staring eyes to lick up moisture, then took off again as some sluggish reflex caused him to blink. The rise and fall of his chest was nearly imperceptible. The prisoner lay halfway out of his cell. Somehow his foot had caught in between the crossed bars making up the door. He also stared up at the ceiling, but he did not blink at all when the solitary fly landed on him. His chest was completely still.
"Dementors." Lupin said.
"Keys still in the lock," said Tonks, pointing at the door. "He must have been letting that poor man out when they got them." She snapped a few pictures.
"At least we know what we're looking for." Lupin said.
He paced the length of the room, setting in motion a complex charm. Kingsley recognized the spell as an identifier. If Lupin did it correctly it should tell them how many dementors passed through the area recently. It was a spell few Aurors could pull off. Once more Kingsley shook his head. Lupin could have been a great help to their department.
Lupin's pacing took him around the unmoving men, and with a final raising of his wand he set off the spell.
"Vidus!"
A ring of greenish smoke formed around Lupin's feet and expanded outward, gaining speed as the circumference increased. The ring left bits of itself behind as it traveled, in specific places on the floor.
"That can't be right," muttered Lupin.
"What can't?" asked Tonks.
Lupin pointed to the eight pools of smoke on the floor. "That means eight of those things were in here at the time these men lost their souls." Lupin strode out past them into the lobby again. The ring was flowing out the door then. Lupin pointed his fingers while he mumbled. "Twenty three more out here," he said, jogging down the steps. The two Aurors followed.
The ring continued to expand, but it was slowing down and losing consistency. Kingsley assumed this was because it was spending so much of itself as it went. As it reached the end of the block there was not enough left to see. Lupin was turning in a circle counting the puddles of smoke.
"How many dementors were there on Azkaban last year?" Lupin asked quietly.
"One hundred and thirty seven, why?" asked Kingsley.
"There were two hundred and ninety four of them on this block three nights ago."
"That can't be." said Tonks. "There would have to be soulless people lying around everywhere. Over a hundred of them, and they don't exactly have the brains to hide themselves."
"Actually that would mean there were one hundred plus soulless people lying some where before the Dementors arrived in this town. It takes seven days for them to reproduce after they've fed." Lupin was looking up the street as he spoke. "And we've only counted one block worth."
"Three thousand eight hundred and ninety four, assuming all of them were in that town that night, which is not all that likely. It's obvious some one is covering this up, and I wonder how many empty muggle towns we haven't found yet. Sir if Fudge is hiding attacks of this magnitude…," Remus paused in his report.
"…Something must be done," finished Bill Weasley.
"How many victims did you say you found in the village?" asked Hestia Jones.
"Twenty five, and they were not well concealed. If someone did go to that town with the intention of hiding the incident from us, they did a poor job. The tire tracks that Kingsley described give me hope that most of the town's people escaped, but if they did, some report would have leaked to the muggle press, and we've heard nothing," said Lupin.
Dumbledore nodded gravely from his place at the head of the table. "Mr. Chapman?" he asked.
"Present?" said a slightly confused man near the end of the room. Daniel Chapman was a newer recruit. Kingsley thought of the background check they had done on him; a muggle-born with a muggle wife and child. He had been under investigation by the ministry because he made his living as a magician, entertaining muggle audiences. He was later exonerated when all of his magic was proved fraudulent. The man was average in height, and had fairly unremarkable features, brown hair and eyes, no scars or tattoos, but he drew attention any way as he stood. He was still in his performers' costume, a morbid black outfit with bits and pieces of outlandish costume jewelry.
"Mr. Chapman, I would like you to locate survivors of Harrington, or their remains if it comes to that. Use muggle methods of search. We do not know how much the Minister knows of this, and I intend to confront him with the incident on Monday. Your search should be relatively unhampered until then. I remember you had a fairly strong Patronus seventh year. Brush up on it before you set out."
"Yes sir." Chapman said in a small voice, returning to his seat.
"That was the final report, are there any other matters to discuss?" Dumbledore asked in quiet but carrying voice.
"Sir?" asked a short thin woman a few seats down from Kingsley. Charlotte Glintford; according to her background report she was the owner of a charms for hire business in Wales. No criminal record, no muggle ties, no reason to put herself in the Dark Lord's path. Kingsley had voiced doubts about her to Dumbledore more then once.
"Yes Ms. Glintford?"
"I think we've all heard something of the rumor and I know it's not relevant to anything we have discussed so far, but…" She paused for a moment as if gathering her courage. "Is it true the boy-who-lived tried to commit suicide?"
Lupin made a fist and for a moment bared his teeth, but the slip in composure was gone nearly as fast as it appeared. Kingsley watched him look on impassively and let the Headmaster answer.
"As with so many other things the Daily Prophet reports, that rumor is most definitely untrue. As I have stated to the press and to the minister Mr. Potter had a reaction to a potion he was given to treat his headaches and was sleep walking. We have taken steps to ensure he will not end up outside should it happen again. Any other questions?"
There were none. As the group got up to leave Kingsley thought Ms. Glintford looked slightly disappointed.
*****
It had tasted like car exhaust smells, and it sent stabbing pains through his entire arm. So slowly it was almost imperceptible, two tiny distinct bumps had appeared on the raw wound where the last two fingers of his left hand had been. As the day wore on, Harry went to Charms and Herbology, half listening to the lessons and half watching his fingers grow back. He was half fascinated and half disgusted with the process. The new flesh looked disturbingly similar to the temporary body Peter Pettigrew had helped Voldemort to create, and the half formed fingers would twitch and grasp of their own accord. Ron seemed equally fascinated and Harry noticed him staring open mouth more then once as the fingers started randomly scrabbling at the desk on which Harry's otherwise unmoving hand rested.
Harry, Hermione, and Ron found seats in the Great Hall and had started their lunch when the owls arrived. A huge owl with tufts of feathers forming sharply pointed horns on its head landed in front of Ron. It held out its leg and stared at him with sad yellow eyes. Ron made no move to take the letter from it.
"It's Bill's," he said in a low voice. Harry could not read the expression his face. Ron and the owl seemed to be having a staring contest. "I sent it back unopened the last time." Ron continued. "Bill shouldn't be lecturing me."
"About what?" asked Harry.
"Nothing." Ron muttered. The owl hooted softly and Ron grudgingly took the envelope from it, but stuffed it in his pocket rather then reading it.
They ate in silence for a few minutes. When Harry thought the awkwardness had settled out he leaned forward and his two friends did the same. "I was thinking we could start the potion tonight."
Hermione made a very sour face, but did not raise the hundreds of objections she had voiced earlier. Harry knew she wanted to become an Animagus, but she could not stop being her overly cautious self.
"Have we got all the ingredients then?" Ron whispered.
"Neville told me the owl-order came in this morning while I was in the hospital wing," Harry whispered.
Hermione made another face before saying "We shouldn't start until after Christmas at least, that potion needs days of constant attention and we've got exams coming up."
"We already decided we'd watch it in turns," Harry said, "We can at least work out the schedule tonight."
"Alright but…"
"MR. POTTER!"
The three students jumped and Ron knocked a pitcher of pumpkin juice into Hermione's lap. McGonagall stood behind them with a glare that could have melted iron.
"I am I to understand that you are planning some other foolish stunt? You're barely out the hospital an hour and you're back to scheming. What is it then? Polyjuice? Veritaserum? Forever-flame?" Professor McGonagall raged.
Without Snape sneaking around after them all the time they had grown lax. Harry wondered quickly how much their head of house had heard.
"And you two! Prefects! I should think you would have the sense to stop this!" McGonagall continued turning towards Hermione. Most of the hall was now watching them.
"It's not anything against the rules Professor." Harry answered, hoping desperately that Hermione could think of some horrible, complicated, legally assemble-able potion that 6th years had some business brewing. She did not let him down.
"It's only Concealing Solution Professor." Hermione said. "I checked the school rule book before we started."
"Miss Granger if you had indeed checked the school rules you would know that concealing objects is in direct violation of Hogwarts rules."
Hoping his leap of logic was correct Harry jumped in. "Well Professor, using the potion is against the rules, but it never says making it is."
McGonagall's glare was focused fully on him. "Potter, that is beneath you. You know the intention of the rule."
He paused trying to sound diplomatic. "Professor we weren't trying to make trouble, we won't make any Concealing Solution then."
"No Potter, you will make it and you will turn it in to be graded when you have completed it."
"But…"
"I believe that potion takes thirteen days to brew. I suggest you get started." With that Professor McGonagall turned and walked up to the head table. Ron grabbed his hair as if intending to tear it out.
"We're doomed! Quidditch, exams, the potion and now another potion! I hate potions, and the D.A. meeting is tonight too," Ron moaned.
"Well if an extra assignment is the worst thing that happens to you today you should consider yourself lucky," Hermione said quietly. Harry's still nail-less half formed fingers tapped sharply on the table, as if in agreement.
*****
The sun was setting as the last few stragglers entered the room. Harry looked out the high windows one last time, trying to mentally prepare himself. There had to be at least a hundred and twenty people in the room, and it no longer looked as expansive as it had when he first entered. Running Dumbledore's Army when it only had twenty five members was one thing, but so many people, even with Hermione and Ron standing with him, he felt very alone at the front of the crowd.
"It's seven o'clock everyone, so let's get started," Harry announced in a commanding voice he did not know he could produce.
The room was immediately silenced. Harry looked out over the group. Students from every house had come, even a few of the younger Slytherins. He could see most of the original group standing in a cluster near the front, though several members were missing. Some had graduated and Marietta Edgecombe, who had betrayed them all to the Ministry, would not be foolish enough to show her still hexed face in that room. Cho Chang had not come either. Hagrid, towering over the rest of the class, stood in the back. He had two tiny first years seated on his shoulders, so they could see over the heads of the older students. Harry realized one of them was the poor patchwork faced ugly kid who was sorted into Hufflepuff at the feast. The kid saw him looking and tried to duck behind Hagrid's expansive head.
"Since we are all obviously working at different levels we're going to split up into groups, according to ages. I want the first and second years up at the front of the room, please, in the center, third and fourth years over in the back corner at the right and everyone else in the back on the left, and could all the D.A. members from last year please come up here for a minute?"
The students split up and Harry walked over to the D.A. members. They all watched him intently.
"I'm going to show the new 5th , 6th and 7th years the Protego counter curse, and I was wondering if those of you who already understand it could help them out. I didn't think this many people would show up."
"Of course we'll help!" said Ernie Macmillan, before anyone else could answer. A few people looked annoyed, but they all spread out to help Harry instruct. Harry went about pairing up the first and second years, and showing them the basic disarming charm. He ducked away from them, as wands began flying in all directions. Maybe I should make them wear goggles, he thought as another wand bounced off the back of his head. Someone could lose and eye. Hagrid was standing with the 3rd and 4th years looking rather nervous. Harry partnered him with Dennis Creevey who pelted the half giant enthusiastically but ineffectively with the impediment jinx Harry had just shown them. Harry wandered around the room for the next twenty minutes instructing and correcting. He walked to the front of the room, about to call a halt so they could change topics.
A chill passed through him and he shuddered. What was that expression, someone stepped on my grave? Everyone in the room was looking around warily as if they had felt it as well. Harry looked out the windows, but nothing appeared to be wrong on the grounds. With a shrug he called for everyone's attention. The younger students started on the leg lock jinx, the middle students on petrifying charm and the upper classes switched to stunning spells. Harry was standing by the door when it happened.
A 5th year Ravenclaw girl fired a stunning spell at her partner, and missed entirely. The red light flew across the room and struck tiny Dennis Creevey, blasting him into the air. The boy flew over Hagrid, just above the man's desperate attempt to catch him, and struck the window. Dumbledore had told Harry that the new wards around the castle would prevent the windows from being broken, or even opened with out a teacher's permission. Harry hoped the Headmaster had saved his receipts.
Slamming through the glass barely slowed Dennis down. His flight came to an end only when he struck the north tower, thirty feet away. His robes caught on the edge of a broken old gargoyle, and he hung there, unconscious. The robes stretched out with a tearing sound.
Hermione was the first to the window. She raised her wand.
"Accio Dennis!" She cast a summoning charm, but nothing happened. Other students opened the windows and tried as well, to no avail.
"The new wards!" shouted Hagrid, "Spells can't go between buildings!"
Harry shouted at a few of the students, "Get Dumbledore!" and they rushed off like a flock of startled birds. He pointed to Ernie. "Run to the north tower and try to summon him from that side."
Harry thought of summoning his broom, but did not think it would make it there in time. Harry searched for more options, several old tapestries hung along the back wall of the room. He sprinted up to them, and like a cat, climbed up to the fastenings at the tops. With a flick of his wand they were cut free. He hit the ground running.
"Help me tie them together. We'll make a rope!" he cried.
"He's awake but he's slipping!" shouted Neville.
Harry and a Hufflepuff girl he could not name tugged the fabric into lumpy knots. He was no expert, but he thought the string of tapestries would hold a person's weight. Harry handed the end of the makeshift rope to Hagrid, then climbed onto the windowsill.
"Dennis, we're going to throw you a rope, try not to move too much!" Harry shouted.
Colin Creevey, Dennis' older brother was running about in terrified circles before the window. Harry tossed the end toward Dennis, but the rope fell short and fluttered back against their own side of the castle.
"We need a weight on the end!" Harry shouted. As students scrambled about looking for a suitable weight Harry saw a pinpoint of orange light on the roof of the north tower. It flared and shrunk away. Neville was suddenly at his side looking up at the light as well.
"He'll fall, help him, please!" Neville shouted out the window.
Harry looked at him in confusion, then the orange light winked out. A shadowed figure slipped over the edge of the tower roof, climbing rapidly down toward Dennis. The glove from a suit of armor was thrust into Harry's hand and he tied it to the rope. Again he threw it to Dennis. It passed within an inch of the boy's hands, but he was too terrified to stretch further to reach it. The shadow was almost even with him by the time Harry pulled up the rope again and prepared to throw.
There was a resounding rip. Harry threw the rope, but Dennis's flailing arms missed it completely. Colin's despairing wail rang through the room as his brother fell. The shadowy figure leapt after him. Neville shouted incoherently. They passed through the light of a lower window as they fell and Harry saw Dennis and the other illuminated briefly. A faint shimmer reflected off the armored glove, then they disappeared from view.
Harry stared down in horror. The sudden jerk on the rope of tapestries nearly knocked him off the windowsill.
"Pull up!" Harry shouted and Hagrid began to reel the tapestries in. The ancient fabric frayed and tore. Whatever spells had been preserving it were no longer effective outside of the castle. The onlookers gasped in terror as the rope disintegrated even as they pulled it in. Suddenly Dennis appeared out the darkness. His eyes were huge and as Harry caught the boy's hands and pulled him inside he noticed the younger Creevey's torn robes were unpleasantly wet. His brother did not seem to mind, and refused to let Dennis move more than a few feet away, as if afraid he would fall out another window.
The glove at the end of the rope bounced over the sill a moment later. Neville lunged forward as if he intended to dive out the window and would have fallen had Harry not caught the back of his robes. Neville turned toward Dennis.
"Where'd she go? Dennis, where did she go?" Neville said desperately.
"I don't know," the boy said shaking, "Somebody caught me around the middle and we hit the wall, and then the rope was in my hand, and I don't know."
The doors burst open then and Professor McGonagall strode into the room. Furious was an insufficient adjective.
******
Ginny tiptoed down the hallway, keeping to the shadows. She was partnered with Neville to search the first floor for the mysterious interloper who had saved the life of Dennis Creevey. Ginny did not consider herself to be overly suspicious. Most of the time she knew she was far too trusting, but when Neville suddenly wanted to search by himself, "To cover more ground" Ginny decided it would be beneficial to keep an eye on him.
Ten yards ahead of her, Neville ducked into an empty classroom, and closed the door behind him. After a few seconds of waiting, Ginny crept up to the door and peered in the key hole. The room was unlit, but she could see Neville's outline against the faint light of the windows.
"I know you're in here," Neville said, sounding very aggravated.
"You don't like hide and seek?" someone asked, and another shadowed figure dropped into view, landing next to Neville with unusual quiet.
Ginny squinted, trying to figure out who the other person was: a girl definitely, but Ginny could not place her voice.
"You're bleeding!" Neville said.
"Yeah, that stupid little $#!% hit me right in the nose when I caught him, %^$&ing ungrateful that was. What are you doing here anyway?"
"Dennis said you fell. Everyone's looking for you."
"You told them it was me?" the girl demanded.
"No. No. No. I didn't. They don't know who they're looking for. Why are you so mad? They'll probably give you some house points and an award, you saved his life."
"Or I'll get %^$&ed. They'll gi'me detention and confiscate the last a' my smokes. I wouldn't even a' been on the roof if that stupid janitor and his stupid cat wasn't following me everywhere. That creepy old man's got half my store. They won't even let me go into that stupid Hog-$#!% town to buy more. I'm on my last pack!"
"Calm down Verdad!"
Even before Neville said it, Ginny had figured out who the girl was. No one else in Hogwarts used that much foul muggle language.
"Right. Fine. So are you going to tell on me then?"
"No, but you should go to the hospital wing. Your nose could be broken."
"It's not. You're always going on about working at St. Mungo's hospital. Just fix it for me."
"I'm not licensed."
"Do I look like I care? Give it a shot."
Ginny heard Neville mumble a spell and a faint blue light illuminated Verdad's face.
"Are you all right?" Neville asked.
There was a loud snorting noise.
"Good as new."
They paused for a moment.
"When you jumped I thought I was going to throw up." Neville said.
"That's sweet of you."
"You should probably go back to your common room, there are still a lot of people searching," said Neville.
"Sure. Thanks Neville."
"You're well...mmmf."
Neville was cut off half way through his sentence, and the two shadows suddenly merged. A chair fell over. For a moment Ginny thought the Slytherin had attacked him, but then she heard Neville panting for air and the girl laughing, and realized she was watching something she really should not be.
"You have a ring in your tongue too?" Neville asked
Horribly embarrassed, Ginny tiptoed as quickly as possible away from the door.
*****
It took only a wave of her wand to repair the window, but then four hours to reactivate the safety wards through out the rest of the school. McGonagall was making her way back to the teacher's lounge when she heard it. Hundreds of wings beating rapidly, as if a flock of birds were rapidly headed her way. The cat in her tensed, but she kept her Animagus form at bay. It was so tempting to let go of the seventy five year old body that had trouble getting out of the bathtub and just be a cat for a few days. But this is not the place and definitely not the time for those thoughts, she scolded herself. The fluttering sound entered the hallway with her and kept pace.
"Any trouble with the windows?" asked the disembodied voice of Professor Graypond from the midst of the invisible flock.
"No. The repairs were simple enough. It's the cause of the damage that concerns me."
"It was asking for trouble having all the window wards linked up like that. One goes and they all go. Better we find the weak spots now."
"But who got in or out while they were down?" McGonagall said.
"I've a theory, and I think Dumbledore already knows. It'll come up at the meeting, no doubt."
They did not speak again until everyone was settled in the lounge. Vector, Pomfrey, Dumbledore, Hagrid, Flitwick and McGonagall had arranged themselves in chairs, and Graypond was on the mantel of the fireplace. At least McGonagall thought she was. As usual Graypond had left her body in her defense classroom.
"I trust everyone completed their tasks without incident?" Headmaster Dumbledore asked. After a round of affirmative responses he continued. "Professor Vector, any idea how the wards were disrupted in the first place?"
Professor Vector nodded slowly. "Something altered the base of the wards." Hagrid raised his hand, as if he were in a class he did not understand, but Professor Vector anticipated his question. "To put it in layman's terms, the window wards are like tanks of water, of particular dimensions, with pipes connecting them. The magic in them would then be like the water in the pipes, and that magic is what gives the wards their strength. The culprit somehow managed to punch a hole in the connections between the windows, and as with water in a physical pipe, the magic drained out, so when that young man hit the window, neither the glass nor the ward was strong enough to keep him inside. It was really quite clever, and it did not set off the alarms, as breaking through one of the windows with brute magical force would have."
"And you found where this 'leak' occurred?" asked McGonagall.
"Yes, it was the north-facing window on the top floor of the north tower." Vector answered.
"Any idea who dun it?" asked Hagrid. The half giant still looked very upset.
"A few of the Ravenclaw seventh years, and perhaps Ms. Granger are capable of such a feat, but none of them would have a motive." Vector replied.
"What about the wraith I saw last month, could it a been that?" Hagrid persisted.
"I should think not. A wraith could have smashed through the wards, but those creatures have no subtlety. If it had been a wraith we would have seen, heard, and felt it coming a mile away."
"What about that Slytherin girl, Verdad?" Flitwick asked. "From the rumors I've heard she has next to no trouble escaping heavily warded ministry buildings. Wasn't she involved in the Azkaban break out?"
"No link was ever proved, and her performance in Arithmancy class is not exactly brilliant." Vector said.
The teachers proceeded to argue back and forth over who in the school was capable of damaging the wards and after twenty minutes of this Dumbledore dissolved the meeting. Pomfrey, the Headmaster and McGonagall left the lounge heading for the hospital wing.
"Has there been any improvement in his condition Poppy?"
The nurse gave a noncommittal half shrug. "He is capable of feeding himself and taking care of bathing and other personal needs, but as far as I can tell he can't understand what is being said to him or written words. He is completely incoherent and the frustration is showing. Other than that, he is in good health. I am at my wits' end, Sir. He needs to go to St. Mungo's. There is nothing more I can do."
Dumbledore nodded gravely. "I will take that into consideration. Thank you Poppy."
They entered the hospital wing quietly and went to the private wards at the back. After a brief knock, which received no answer, Dumbledore pushed the door open. Snape stood there, dressed in his usual black robes, and his customary sneer in place, but there were signs something was obviously amiss. His eyes were sunken with exhaustion and red-rimmed. His nose, chin and fingers were smudged with ink, and apparently he did not notice.
"Hello, Severus." Professor Dumbledore said slowly.
"Wersa a jake or keslley aseis lad…." Snape shook his head violently as if trying to clear it, and tried again. "Seven alse sek adro." He ran a hand through his greasy hair, smearing ink across his forehead. Apparently defeated he sank to a stool at the small desk in the room. Crumpled papers littered the floor and McGonagall picked up one and unrolled it curiously. A collection of squiggling random lines covered the page. The only intelligible marking was the word "point" and that was no help without context. Snape regained their attention by picking up a sheet of parchment that he had yet to destroy. Instead of attempting to write, the professor had draw crude pictures.
Dumbledore took the paper carefully, holding it so they could all see. A stick figure man stood in the center of a group of wiggly half circles, and there was a stick figure animal, possibly a dog, in the circle as well. McGonagall shook her head, not understanding. Snape lurched to his feet. He pointed at the half circle and another babbling triad poured from his mouth. McGonagall could only stare in confusion. He reached toward her and tugged on the edge of her cloak. With more then a few misgivings she took it off and handed it to him. Snape put it on, leaving the hood pulled forward so his face was entirely hidden. He then proceeded to walk around the room with strange slow steps.
"Any ideas what this is all about?" McGonagall asked. She was never good at charades.
"Dementors?" asked Pomfrey.
Snape whirled toward her. He started babbling and the cloak fell to the floor forgotten. Snape pointed at the picture again.
"Those are dementors?" asked McGonagall. Snape tapped the page again, pointing at the stick figure man, and then the dog, then he snatched up a quill and began to scratch out the dementors from the picture then added wavy lines in the air and then another stick figure.
Dumbledore tapped the new stick figure. "Can you give us more details Severus?"
In reply Snape let out a string of nonsense words that were most likely meant to be extremely foul cursing. When Dumbledore continued to stare Snape dipped the quill back in the ink and added some facetiously over exaggerated curves to the stick drawing. He then proceeded to stab the stick figure representing himself in the head with the quill until he tore the parchment in half.
"SHE aslk jdsee als od ale a seiewown feoit n neowr, bitck!"
They continued to stare at him until he sank to the stool with a frustrated sigh.
"Before we send him to St. Mungo's I will try Legilemency, but with a mind as guarded as his, it is unlikely to work. Please prepare the paperwork, Poppy."
The matron nodded and quickly left. Dumbledore then turned a quirked eyebrow toward McGonagall who took the cue to leave. As she walked out the doors of the hospital wing she heard Snape's unintelligible shouting.
*****
His feet were very tired, but he knew it would be hours at least before he could sit down. His nose was running as well, but he didn't dare take off his mask to tend to it. The Dark Lord would happily accept any small infraction in the Death Eater dress code as an invitation to torture. But Peter would not give him any cause today. No, this day he would finely earn some of the training he had been promised. After weeks of crawling and skulking about in the rubbish of Diagon Alley, as a rat and other wise, he had learned the location of an Order safe-house.
He had scouted the area around the building, and found nothing but forest and farmland. The old farmhouse was well warded and concealed but nothing a few careful hexes could not defeat. And the building was only fifty miles from Hogsmead, a perfect staging area for an attack If he could successfully capture it, or at least be integral in the capturing of it, (as he doubted he would be given a command of any size shape or form) he could get himself back in the Dark Lord's favor.
Peter shifted from one foot to the other as five more Death Eaters stepped forward to speak and were punished or rewarded accordingly. Then the master's eyes were on him. He lowered his head and stepped forward.
"Master I have found another of Dumbledore's hidden houses. Members of his order frequently visit the residence…"
****
"Ouch!"
Ron Weasley pushed aside the curtains of his bed and peered out, wand in hand. He recognized shadowy figure of Harry sitting on the floor by the door. Ron hopped across the cold stone floor to his friend, whose hands were pressed to his face. "Was it a vision? What did you see Harry?" Ron whispered.
"No, I didn't see anything. I bumped my head on the stupid wall. I think I was sleep walking again."
Ron let out a nervous and relieved laugh and pulled the other boy to his feet. Harry punched him in the arm, declared that it was not funny, and went back to bed.