Chapter 21: Black Ebony
"Our strategy is to destroy the enemy from within, to conquer him through himself." - Adolph Hitler
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By the time Harry left for the Transfiguration exam, he was feeling a lot better. 'Daemonology and Daemon Summoning Volume Three', 'Magical Art for the Sorcerer' and 'Wizardries for Illusionists' had disappeared off into his mind, he had studied some more Techno-Magic (specifically, controlling technological devices - he was looking forward to having a lot of fun at the Dursleys, this Summer) and he had even managed to have a short chat with Rhiannon, who was in an incredibly good mood - this was most likely due to the fact that she had stole- sorry, 'liberated' what amounted to about four-hundred thousand dollars from some rich crook. Apparently the FBI were investigating.
This amused Harry no end - there would of course be no trace or clues for the agency to follow up, and it was quite entertaining to think of how stumped they must be - and he was in a distinctly more cheerful mood hen he joined the queue outside the Transfiguration classroom, where the examiners were checking people's wands and passing out special quills.
"Sorry about blowing a fuse at breakfast," Harry whispered to Ron. The other boy looked at him as though he had grown three heads. "Sorry - I mean, about losing my temper," Harry corrected himself, remembering Ron's Pureblood upbringing, and the fact he probably had no idea what a fuse was.
"Oh, that's all right," Ron said, looking more relaxed now. "Although to tell the truth, I would prefer it if you apologised to Hermione; but whatever you do's up to you."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Okay, fine. I'll apologise to her tomorrow, okay? Give her a bit more time to calm down, get my bearings, and then beg for forgiveness."
Ron snorted. "Yeah, and you'll have finished reading the books then, won't you?"
"That too," Harry admitted.
They shut up as one of the invigilators demanded silence and rammed the door open, watching them with beady eyes. "Good luck," Harry uttered out of the corner of his mouth, and Ron gave a tiny bob of the head to wish him the same. Harry scuttled forwards to his assigned place in the line as the students marched in to take their places.
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The exam was harder to most students than the previous ones, but Harry found it one of the easiest by far. The multiple-choice questions were easy enough, the essay questions were fine once he'd searched through his mind for the right chapters of the books, and in the practical - which they each did in private - Harry found his Illusionist aptitude made short work of the demands given. Before leaving, he picked up extra marks with his cobra form.
"How did you find it?" he asked Ron as they met up again at lunch. Ron, who had just finished his own practical, was a little pale.
"The writing was fine," moaned the other boy, "but I just froze up when we went onto the practical. I had the really strict examiner, and he just kept glaring at me!"
"Did you do okay?" Harry asked worriedly.
Ron gazed moodily down at his egg. "Dunno. I mean, I did most of the stuff, but my wand movements were crap. I think I got some more points with my wolf Animagus form, anyway."
"Well, there you are then," said Harry optimistically. "The wand movements don't really matter, as long as you cast the spell right - and if you did miss any, the Animagus form will more than make up for it. I bet the invigilator doesn't have a license!"
Ron brightened a little, and his appetite picked up. Harry saw Hermione and Ginny glancing their way more than once, though their head quickly shot back to their plats once hey saw h had noticed them. 'Girls,' Harry thought, amused. He nudged Ron. "Don't forget, you've still got to scan in those other two books."
Ron groaned. "Don't remind me. They're at least four-hundred bloody pages each. And that one with the long title - 'Magical Rituals Using Death' or whatever - "
"'Rituals Encompassing the Use of Deliberate Death as a Means for Magical Effects to Occur'," Harry adjusted.
"Whatever," Ron grumbled. "Anyway, I'm pretty sure that title's just a nice way of saying it's got sacrificial rituals in it."
Harry frowned. "Sacrificial rituals? What - like the one Leone was going to do to me?"
"Not exactly that one, but... well, there's loads of Forbidden magic and Dark magic that needs animals - or worse - to be killed for the ritual to happen. Not like, a few drops of blood; you actually have to kill someone, and usually it's not in very nice ways. Apparently," he hissed, leaning closer, "they have to be awake while they die."
Harry was reminded sickeningly of the sacrifice of the King and Queen of Cyrin, at the temple in Atlantis.
He was quiet for a moment, not feeling very hungry anymore. "It's not like I'm going to use it," he decided aloud. "No - I'm still going to read it," he said more confidently. "If you don't want to scan it in, that's fine; I'll do it myself. But the more I know about things, the easier it will be to defend myself; and I don't think Voldemort would stop before using something like that."
Ron nodded, accepting what Harry said; but Harry couldn't quite help feeling as though he simply wanted to read the book for its own sake, rather than his safety.
As he looked up again, glancing across the room (he noticed Angelina Johnson had received her Animagus license in the owl post that morning), he caught sight of Malfoy, who was perusing through the Daily Prophet, looking extremely bored. Briefly, Harry wondered how the boy was dealing with everything - his father being a spy, being thrown off the Quidditch team, and being informed of some age-old prophecy that was secret ken.
"Coming to Hogsmeade?" Ron asked suddenly, snapping Harry out of his reverie.
Harry shook his head. "No; if I'm going to apologise to Hermione, I want to get the books out of the way first. Besides," he said gloomily, "banned from Hogsmeade for the rest of the month, remember?"
Ron sighed. "Dumbledore should have given you something to make up for it. I mean, it's like you've been punished, even though you haven't done anything wrong!"
"Well, I suppose I could explore the castle or something," Harry shrugged. "Besides, I'll be pretty busy with exams for another week, anyway. Then there's only another week until the month's over; at least I'm not banned from Hogsmeade for the rest of term."
"Maybe you could sneak out? Under your Invisibility Cloak?" suggested Ron brightly.
Harry perked up. "Yeah, that's an idea! I mean, I bet the daemon would still be able to smell me - but Leone isn't stupid enough to attract attention by throwing it out into the middle of public to attack me, when she's got some big plan going."
"Well, she is a nutter," Ron pointed out. "But still, you've got a good point. I mean, you've got barely any freedom; you haven't used your broom since the Quidditch finals."
"Hm," said Harry, not really listening. He was too busy remembering the Trophy Room, with the Quidditch Cup tied with the two Gryffindor ribbons, one golden and one scarlet, and the Swedish Broom Race trophy, which had his name magically carved into the plaque at its base.
"Done daydreaming?" Ron grinned. "Come on, you have to admit it isn't fair; you get Quidditch and Hogsmeade taken away from you, and what do you get in return?"
"Safety?" Harry suggested. Ron looked at him pointedly.
"Yeah, mate. Really nice. No, seriously, what has he given you?"
Harry thought a moment longer. "A chance to not get my head ripped off and used as a football?"
Ron puzzled over this, before deciding, "Nah, your head's the wrong shape. Dumbledore had given the grand total of nothing. And by nothing, I mean nothing. Just a 'stay in school and be a good boy, Harry'. That's it. Nothing to keep you occupied. No hints of secret passages or rooms, no extra lessons, no nothing."
"Double negative," Harry said under his breath, as Ron continued.
"Harry, mate, we need to have something to do. It's fine for you, you've turned into a right Ravenclaw, sticking your head in every book available. But there's only so many games of chess and Exploding Snap you can play before you collapse in a coma, and without Hogsmeade or flying, you're going to be a bloody vegetable by next week. So," he finished bluntly, rapping the table, "what. Are. We. Going. To do?"
Harry shrugged again. "Dunno."
"Thank you, Mr Bloody-Useful," snapped Ron irritably. "Come on, you must have some idea?"
The black-haired boy pondered this. "Well, I'll probably read some more... practice my other Annumagus transformations... that sort of thing. Might try to find out what happened to the Marauders' Map."
"Dumbledore might know," Ron proposed. "I mean, Crouch might have left it in his office, and if so then Dumbledore would probably have got hold of it."
"Or it could have been thrown away as scrap paper," added Harry. Ron winced.
"Yeah, that could have happened. Still, you have to hope."
They finished their meals and ambled up to the dormitory to scan in the remaining two books, considering the various ways to pass the time.
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At breakfast the next day, Harry and Ron weaselled themselves on either side of Hermione, Ron discourteously shifting his little sister from her place. Hermione wrinkled her nose. "Ginny, there's a pair of rats at the table. Think I should get Crookshanks?"
"Hello, 'Mione," said Ron pleasantly. "How are you today?"
Harry shot Ron a look that clearly said 'Let me handle this'. Ron cleverly missed it completely.
"Harry and I were wondering if you mi- what?"
"Perhaps," Hermione hissed venomously, "if you are trying to apologise to me, you might actually let Harry do it, seeing as how he was the one who acted like a juvenile."
Harry felt quite insulted by this; he was pretty damned sure that he acted at least his age, and that Hermione was the one being immature - acting as though she was the responsible adult who had every right to confiscate property from the naughty little boys. He had a good feeling, however, that saying this aloud wouldn't regain her friendship.
"Hermione," he said, formally and reasonably, secure in the knowledge that the entire contents of the final two books were sitting in his head, waiting for him to study them. "I'm sincerely sorry for any offence I may have caused to you, in regards to the books that I was ill-advised to have."
Hermione stared at him.
"He means sorry," Ron translated.
Ginny mimed banging her head against the dinner table. "I know what he meant!" Hermione snapped, still glaring daggers straight at Harry. "And I also know that you didn't mean a word of it."
"I did!" contested Harry, offended.
"Yes, you meant you were sorry about causing me any offence," she sniffed, "but I didn't hear you apologising anywhere for actually acting like an immature idiot and reading books that are certainly far above your level."
Harry gawped silently at her in amazement, before sputtering out, "Above my level?!"
"Well, you're hardly likely to be able to understand or use anything you read in them," Hermione sniffed, "Dark magic isn't like most little charms - you have to actually understand what you're doing, and all the power in the world let make you cast Dark magic if you haven't got the brains to work it out."
Now Ron was staring.
"Ron," Harry seethed, "We're leaving. Come on."
Ron leapt up as Harry shoved himself off the bench and stormed out of the Great Hall, reminding many of the lunching students of Snape in another of his foul tempers.
Harry, meanwhile, had his mind locked in a blank state of complete disbelief and furious anger. It was outrageous! How dare she! Just because she had the IQ of bloody Einstein, she thought everyone else was a thick-headed twat? That - that complete and utter (he though several words that couldn't possibly be placed in a PG-13 fic, even though children have heard them all by the age of ten).
Well, she could go and flounce off to study in the library, and hopefully she'd die in there and not be discovered and rot and -
"Are you even listening to me?" Ron asked for the fourth time. Harry's head snapped round.
"Oh... right, yeah. What?"
"I said," repeated Ron, sounding quite faint, "I can't believe she actually had the nerve to say that! In fact, I can't believe it ever crossed her mind! Tell you something mate, your reading those books must have hit her pretty hard."
"It wasn't anything I did," Harry retorted, a little sulkily. "I went over to apologise, and what does she do? Throws a complete fit, chucks me out on my ear, and - more importantly - calls me a complete idiot, who couldn't find his own arse without a map and a company of Sherpa guides!"
"She didn't say that exactly," Ron admitted, "but yeah, that's what she insinuated. Bloody Hell... what's wrong with her?"
"I don't care." Harry announced waspishly. "I don't mind if you make friends with her, but I'm having nothing to do with her again, ever." He shot the words forwards like bullets.
"That's a bit far, isn't it? I mean, isn't it going a tad overboard? I know you're upset with what she said - I know I would be - but once you've calmed down, and she's realised what a prat she's been -"
"I don't care." Harry said again. "She can apologise 'til the world ends, but I'm not going to forgive her."
"You'll feel different about it by tomorrow," Ron warned; but it didn't look as if it would hold true - several hours later as they sat down for their Divination exams, Harry was still furious about the verbal betrayal of someone he had once counted as one of his two closest friends. How could someone so brilliant act so childish?
Harry had to admit that he lapsed a bit in that exam; the essay questions he rushed out, scrawling wildly, so furious was he, and later on he was quite certain that he had missed several points.
Again, they were examined individually on their practicals (in case they put each other off). Harry lay out tarot cards and read tea cups easily, quite certain that they were a load of nonsense, dutifully reciting the meanings of various signs and portents.
He gazed into a fire and made up some nonsense about a birth in the examiner's family, read the I Ching, and finally (it wasn't soon enough for Harry, who was ready to fall asleep of boredom, Oxtamed or no Oxtamed) the examiner announced the final section.
She pulled a crystal ball out from under the little tables dainty covers, and swept it out of the velvet bag. The crystal sphere was unceremoniously plonked down on the squat wooden stand.
"Now," the woman said heartily, beaming at Harry. "Just take a peek, and tell me if you spot anything."
Harry inched a little closer, relaxed his mind like the textbook had told him and - wishing he had revised more for Divination than just a single textbook and a few dozen pages from the laptop - peered down into the ball.
It was perfectly transparent, unlike the quartz or beryl ones they used on occasion. Harry had a nasty feeling that he was just staring straight through onto the table and missing whatever was happening inside the orb.
Trying to focus around the centre of it, Harry squinted, and then realised he was trying too hard. Relax, he told himself firmly. Turn off the rational mind, let the subconscious come through - that's what the book said. He followed the instructions, letting his mind wander off onto the no subject.
A minute passed, and then a minute more, and Harry was starting to feel distinctly aware of the woman's piercing gaze in the back of his mind.
A second before he seriously considered making up something though, he caught a sudden glimpse of a shockingly blue mist that curled and drifted lazily about the centre, like tendrils of smoke.
Trying not to concentrate in case it disappeared, Harry kept watching only vaguely, but found that suddenly the mist was all he could concentrate on - the examiner,
the room, himself - all were suddenly unimportant and non-existent. Only the unfolding smoke, that carefully shed its mysteries like a blooming flower, could be seen.
As specks of beings appeared and became clearer, Harry heard his voice telling the examiner what was happening. He sounded, he thought dreamily somewhere in the back of his mind, as though he were sleep-talking - but that thought faded away as quickly as it came, because he didn't exist, so how could he think?
"There's a man," Harry said vaguely, "he's trapped, but he isn't sure whether he dislikes it where he is."
He may have heard someone, somewhere, asking who the man was, where he was trapped - so he answered, just in case. "He's me." his voice rolled out lazily. "He's trapped in a shape... a time... but they're the same. He doesn't know whether he should be or not, but he knows it's his own fault - because he let it happen."
Something else materialised in the mist, some other emotions and something else - something deeper, that he could understand and see as though it had a solid form. The whole situation could be seen, like having an omniscient, omnipresent mind.
"There are two men, trapped in the same way, and crosses around the necks of a pair of murderers. A group of black-suited no-ones are hunting the dream of a man they've never met, and a man giving his life to speak and listen but never do, does.
"Guns at high-noon, blessed by divine inspiration, now forgotten. A piece of unreal reality, locked away for a millennium, with thirteen nonsensical keys for thirteen practical locks. A moment in a lifetime, a torture that many would and do die for, is the greatest freedom and gift that no-one could ever want nor need."
The voice said something else, and his own mouth shaped another word. "Five."
That said, he came back to reality with a jolt, staring panicked into the examiner's face. She was grinning madly at him, marking several ticks on her papers. "Excellent, Mr Potter, well done! The best one so far, though I shouldn't be telling you that."
Harry blinked at her. He hadn't really seen anything; just an older version of himself - and he wasn't even sure how he knew it was himself, for he could only see a silhouette - the rest had just been the mist unfurling... well, unfurling what could only be described as the form of knowledge. There was no substance to it, no shape, but he knew exactly what was going on - except he didn't - and...
He scrunched his shoulders up to his neck. This was starting to give him a headache.
And what was that stuff he'd seen, he wondered as he was ushered down the stairs. Guns at high noon? What did that mean? Murders and crosses? Keys and locks? Traps, and black-suits and men who talk? And what did the number five have to do with anything?
Harry shook his head, wincing as he realised he'd already got the headache he had been trying to avoid.
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Harry read two more of his books that night - 'Enchantment for Illusionists' and 'A Discussion of the Wartime Use of Swords' - before being particularly violent in staff-training with Levina, where he was progressing faster than he had with swords: he was already onto a full-sized staff, and his arms ached after every fight.
He had quite a bit of natural talent, it seemed, but he still felt slightly uncomfortable with it. He was hoping to move onto dagger fighting after this and unarmed combat; the beautiful half-foot blade that Levina had given him for Christmas remained packed inside his trunk, unused.
The next day blessed the students with sunny skies and warm, light breezes - although certain members of the fifth and seventh-years had no way to take advantage of this. While the final year were taking their Potions NEWTs, Harry's year (some of them, at least) were attempting a Protective Magic, Grade 3 E-Level.
There were only four pupils attempting it; Harry, Ron, Hermione (Harry and Ron ignored the girl, and vice versa) and a sixth year Ravenclaw who Harry didn't know.
The examiners explained a few things; that most who attempted the E-Level, even at the lowest grade, were usually in their twenties, and so they weren't expected to pass - instead, it was a preparation for if they wanted to do the E-Level in future, and to see how well they performed.
Ron gave Harry a thumbs up as they each were led away to separate rooms, to be examined individually. Luke MacFlane - Harry's examiner - looked about forty, with greying-hair and a neat moustache that quivered whenever he made a sharp movement.
He watched Harry closely as the boy brought out a quill. "Practical first, boy," he barked, "Wand only."
Harry quickly whipped his wand out of the holster he had received on his birthday, holding it up as if for inspection. The older man barely gave it a glance, before motioning Harry to the centre of the room.
The practical was long and exhausting - they were the only words for it, if you didn't include 'takes eternity', 'boring' and 'makes you want to drop down dead from tiredness'. Harry, however, only learnt this last fact from the sixth-year Ravenclaw, afterwards - he and Ron had both taken Oxtamed, and although it was certainly boring (and Ron's magic was getting pretty weak before he was half-done), neither of them felt tired.
There were two E-Levels which had the same aim; Protective Magic and Defensive Magic. Protective Magic was based simply on shields and wards; magic that would prevent any spell or object from passing through once it had been put up. Defensive Magic, however, was concerned with specific counter-curses; its aim was to neutralise or negate dangerous magics quickly - when shields hadn't been put up, and the intended victim had to act quickly or be hit.
Harry had only to deal with Protective Magic, but this was more than enough to make him bored with casting only slightly varied spells over and over again, as MacFlane sent dozens of different spells and objects hurtling towards him. The items bounced off, incinerated, or stuck to the shield, while the spells ricocheted off, were destroyed or absorbed into the shields.
The wards were slightly harder; a much-simplified version of the Fidelius Charm made part of the room unnoticeable to MacFlane's eyes, another let only certain objects through; and after several more, Harry finally (with much concentration) managed to key one so that only people of a certain bloodline could pass through.
Feeling as though he had run a marathon, Harry collapsed into a chair on the examiner's command, staring blearily down at the paper. It looked more like a broadsheet newspaper, so big was it, and Harry almost felt like giving up there and then.
"Don't look so upset," the man growled over Harry's shoulder. "The next paper's only slightly bigger."
Harry banged his head against the table twice, before dragging the quill into his grasp and beginning.
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"Ngh." Ron grunted at supper. It was practically the only thing he could say, since he had nearly collapsed as he had left his exam. Harry gave a small groan in reply.
Ron had managed to make it out a long time before Harry (neither of them knew why, and they didn't particularly care). Hermione had finished a while before Ron, or so the red-haired boy thought - when he had left the classroom, he hadn't seen her exit the room she was being examined in herself.
"I hope you two are happy," Ginny announced, appearing over their shoulders. "Hermione's crying in the girls' bathroom." Harry paused at this, his spoon halfway to his mouth, and gave Ron The Look.
"Are we meant to care?" he sniffed. Ginny looked exasperated.
"I know she was a bit uppity with you, and I know that whatever you argued about is apparently 'none of my business'," she continued, rolling her eyes and making quote marks, "but-"
"Exactly!" Ron snapped. "She was far too 'uppity' with us, and it's none of your business. So just sod off and mind your own, all right?" He turned sharply away and resumed eating. Harry followed his lead, while Ginny watched on in disgust.
"Boys," she scowled, turning on her heel and stalking away.
"I can't believe her," grumbled Ron as he forced down a mouthful of pudding. "How can she take Hermione's side after she heard what that cow said?"
"Maybe girls just stick together, or something," Harry said ruefully. "I feel like an early night tonight; all that shield-casting's worn me out."
Ron nodded his agreement, and they made their way up to the dormitory, stopping only to beg Madam Pomfrey for a few sips of Invigoration Potion.
They spent the rest of the day lazing about in the dorm; playing chess and Exploding Snap until Ron called it a day; whereupon Harry sneaked the laptop out of his chest and chatted with Rhiannon some more, before revising a few thousand pages worth of spells of Blood and Soul magic.
Rhiannon was only too happy to inform him that not only had she amassed a grand total of nearly eight-hundred thousand dollars (though she swore that unless Harry actually did something, she was going to keep it for herself; he quickly made up his mind to get involved as soon as possible). Interestingly, he also learned from her gossip that the other Apprentice - the boy in Hong Kong - was now a full Techno-Mage in the Adept level; his own laptop had apparently appeared, and he often came online to chat now that he had his own.
However, there were still three Apprentices; someone else had obviously been chosen as a Techno-Mage; but as they had never entered Techno-Chat, Rhiannon had no idea who they were. She suggested that the Mage who had previously been training the ex-Apprentice might have taken a new Apprentice, but she wasn't sure.
She and Harry remained at the lowest of the four levels of study; Beginner. He had to admit (rather disappointedly) that he hadn't been doing much studying of it; he was mainly focusing on school and Levina's training: promising himself that he would start paying more attention to the laptop, Harry finally shut it down for the night and prepared for the next day.
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As the days passed, so did the exams - and Harry was never more thankful that time seemed to be flying by. He finished the last of the books and rods he had brought back from Atlantis; he revised the ways to train an Apprentice in Techno-Magic; he learned several more useful moves in staff-fighting (and also downloaded some beginners information on dagger-fighting and savate from the laptop, just in case).
Added to this, he managed to perfect his raven Annumagus form and joined in a large party in the Gryffindor Tower; Fred and George had (somehow) managed to secure a loan to cover the rent of the building they had been looking at in Hogsmeade - they couldn't scrape up enough to buy it, but they were confident that they would have after a year or so of it being open.
As said before, however, the exams passed too - Defence Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Care of Magical Creatures (in which Pansy Parkinson had to be sent to the Hospital Wing, after having her arm gored by the Crup that had been sweet and lovable just seconds before she held it).
Harry was the only one who attempted Amulet Making E-Level; he was one of only four that were still even doing the classes, for so many people had dropped out of it altogether - it required simply too much memorisation and detail for most people's tastes.
Hermione remained as aloof and unapproachable as ever, and Harry could see that Ron was beginning to become uncomfortable with the situation. To take the other boy's mind off it, he decided to start the search for the Marauders' Map; there was no luck, however - Dumbledore professed not to have seen it during the clean-up of Crouch's office or classroom, and jaunt to Filch's own office under guise of night and the Invisibility Cloak didn't turn up any leads. It seemed as if the Marauders' Map might have been well and truly lost.
Harry had written a letter to Sirius soon after this, requesting suggestions - and if he had no ideas, a method of creating a new map (though he was sure there was a very good chance of finding it on the laptop) - while Ron stared out the window, lamenting their entrapment.
"You can go down to Hogsmeade or the lake whenever you want, so go," Harry insisted after he couldn't stand the other boy's moping about any longer. Ron's face lit up, and he quickly acquiesced, leaving Harry to study the effects of Brinlout toxin; a venom that was golden in colour until it was added to another liquid, whereupon it would become virtually untraceable - transparent, tasteless and smell-less.
There were only two exams left - Astronomy and Spell Creation, which should both be exceptionally easy. Astronomy was simply a load of memorisation of star and planets, facts and figures, sunspots and comets, while Spell Creation would just be writing about various theories and such-like; the practical had already been marked (Snape had conceded to give some of the Canusabeo over to Harry; he would be entering the cure as his own work, and as it had apparently passed all the St. Mungoes tests so far, it was eligible to be accepted by the examiners).
He was right, he found as two more days passed; the Astronomy exam was pretty easy (though not quite as much as he had been expecting) and the Spell Creation E-Level - only he, Neville and Hermione attempted it - was even easier. Magical theory and manipulation were the only subjects he'd had to revise, and he was certain he had passed; to gain a pass grade in E-Levels, you had to score eighty percent or more.
That night (and the one before) had seen several large-scale parties around the castle, with drink and food flowing freely. Harry and Ron were only happy too take part in these; the exams were over, the month of staying inside had just over one week left to go, and the Summer holidays were coming up in less than a fortnight.
The Gryffindor party went on into the early morning, cheers and congratulations on OWLs and NEWTs ringing round the Tower, before Harry and Ron finally stumbled up to the dormitory.
"What did-" Harry began, but was immediately cut off by Ron's snores. Looking behind him, he could that Ron had instantly collapsed on his bed, and was fast asleep.
Harry yawned himself, checked the time. Neville was asleep as well; Dean and Seamus were downstairs in the Common Room along with a dozen others, laughing and joking. The sun wasn't even visible above the Forest, and when Harry checked his watch, he saw why. It was ten minutes to three in the morning, and he should have been asleep ages ago. Thanking the faculty that there would be no lessons for the remainder of the term, now that exams were over, Harry considered taking an Oxtamed and researching some more Techno-Magic.
"Might as well," he muttered, rubbing his left eye. He crept over to his chest and pulled the keys out of his pocket, before unlocking it as quietly as he could. Then he frowned.
In the fifth compartment, where he kept his magical items - Sneakoscope, laptop, Oxtamed, Charmometer, Seeing Stones, wristwrite, Snitch, magical figurines, and the dagger that Levina had given him. Now, however, there was another object. But surely he'd had the keys all day? Yes, he was sure he had - and this hadn't been in there when he had checked this morning.
"Ajax!" he hissed, wanting to know if the Familiar had seen anyone - but the bird just gave a croak in its sleep, and went back to silence. "Lazy bird," Harry muttered.
Suddenly, he froze. He knew what this object was - the black bag made of crushed velvet, and the shape of the object within - a perfect sphere.
The Myrrh Cage was here.
Right in his own trunk.
Letting out a gasp, Harry snatched it up, feeling the weight of it; it was surprisingly light for its size. With unsteady fingers, Harry released the cord hat held the bag closed and opened it, gazing in at it. It was exactly as he had last seen it - except that the biggest Teller - the longest of the black marks, one that had stretched nearly all the way around it - was gone. Of course one of them would be, though... after all, they were there in proportion to the numbers of daemons contained inside them, and one of the daemons had been released...
Harry reached in and fumbled with the smooth surface, before pulling it out and away from the velvet bag. As soon as the container dropped to the floor, however, Harry knew it was a mistake. A feeling that he knew and dreaded began - a tug at his lower stomach, and a dizzy, sickening feeling that made his head whirl.
Harry tried to let go of the Cage, to grab his wand from the holster, but it was too late - his arms wouldn't obey him. Instead, they stuck to the orb he held, no matter how much he tried to tug them away.
Portkey, a dull voice in the back of his mind said, while the rest was awhirl with panic and confusion and the nauseating giddiness that such objects caused. Finally, he opened his mouth to cry for help -
But it was too late.
Harry Potter disappeared from Hogwarts.
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As Lord Abyssay worked in silence but for the scratching of the pen, a repetitive beep disturbed the peace.
The scratching paused... the noble turned slightly to the side of the ornate desk, where a blue light blinked urgently on and off, emitting a shrill alarm as it did so.
Abyssay allowed a small smile to slip. Reaching out to press an intercom button, the resistance leader said five simple words. "It's begun. Ready the troops."
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As Harry fell to his knees on the hard ground, he immediately tried to rise and grab his wand.
"Immobilus," a lazy voice said, which put a stop to that at once - Harry froze in place, unable to move. "Accio Myrrh Cage," released the sphere from his grasp and sent it hurtling somewhere out of sight - but Harry's eyes were stuck firmly on the ground, and he couldn't see where. "Accio wand," the voice completed, and that too was gone. "Welcome, Potter. I seem to have you at my mercy, again."
Now Harry recognised the voice - he tried to speak the name in disgust, but his tongue and lips wouldn't move; it was all he could do to keep breathing, and his eyes were watering for want of blinking. He was only glad it was dark; if it had been any brighter, his eyes would have been in agony already.
It was Leone, of course, and he was ashamed that he didn't realise from the moment he heard the first spell. No, he was ashamed he hadn't realised it was her from the very second that such a dirty trick was pulled. It was her style of course, to trick him - not meet him in open battle. 'Looks like stepping outside wouldn't have put me in any more danger,' Harry thought angrily. And where she was, would be the daemon... and -
Voldemort. "Why don't you release him, girl?" came the slippery voice. "I doubt even the incredible Mr Potter could do anything without his wand."
A muttered counter-spell allowed Harry to glare up, upon the serpentine 'Lord' and his pawn (or was he apawn of hers?). It was the same throne-room he had seen in his dream, and he was just three metres away from Voldemort. Leone stood to his side, a little closer to Harry. In one hand she held her own wand, and in the other she cradled the Myrrh Cage. Voldemort was twirling Harry's own wand in his fingers.
Harry felt a chill of rage as he saw his beautiful wand being handled by the ice-white murderer, and took a moment to compose himself before he rose proudly and unwaveringly to his feet. His tiredness nearly made him stumble as soon as he had done so, but he gave barely a quiver before getting himself under control.
Harry's eyes lit up as he saw Voldemort. "Hey, it's Pure Evil!" he cried jubilantly, waving a hand. "Hi, Pure Evil!"
The snake-eyes narrowed, as the Dark Lord glowered. "Potter," he hissed, "do not try to underestimate the danger of your situation."
"Who cares how he acts," Leone snapped out triumphantly, a crazy smile on her face. She stared at Harry with wickedly gleaming eyes. "He's here. It worked."
Harry opened his mouth to bite out a retort, but Voldemort spoke before him. "You are correct. The plan worked; Potter has arrived; and now the time has come for us to finish the deal. You shall have Potter to... play with... as you wish, before his death - and I will have the Myrrh Cage, and the instructions on commanding the daemon." Transferring Harry's wand to one hand, he rose and stretched out the other hand to the girl.
Leone however, simply gave a Cheshire-cat grin. Harry gave a small jump as the daemon slunk out from where it had been silently standing behind him, and over to its mistress. The torchlight reflected off its eyes, which were the solid black of a bird's, and off the ink-black scales that encrusted its body.
"You seem to have misunderstood me," Leone purred, stalking towards Harry though her eyes were fixed on Voldemort's face. He seemed to have realised something was going on. "You see, it's quite impossible for someone who's Summoned a daemon to transfer control of it to someone else. My little daemon obeys only me, and always will. You, I'm afraid, will get nothing, while I keep my own prize."
She smirked at Harry, who looked defiantly back. "And of course," she whispered, though it echoed around the empty chamber, "I'll get my revenge. And my daemon's revenge." She grinned again. "No, to tell the truth, Voldemort, you will get something - the chance to explore the mysteries of the afterlife.
"Daemon, kill him."
Harry leapt aside, but he'd had no need to; the black beast lunged not for him, but for the Dark Lord, who stared, mouth agape, as if in disbelief. For the first time, Harry felt like cheering the unholy monster on - and then like rooting for Voldemort. Either winner would have eliminated one of his enemies, though he wasn't sure who he wanted to win.
Voldemort still had his wand, he suddenly realised to his horror, but as he started forwards, an iron grip around his arm gave him pause. Glancing around, he realised it was Leone.
"Get off!" he snapped, but she only leered victoriously in reply before yanking something out of her pocket. A rock, Harry realised, and he instinctively knew it was another Portkey. "Don't -" he began, fearing the dizziness to come again so quickly, but she had already rammed it into his hand. She was touching it too - and as the jerk started again for the second time in just minutes, Harry swore that if he survived, he would learn how to Apparate.
This time, it was faster: it took just a second to rip him from where he was standing and tumble to his destination. Leone was obviously better at recovering from Portkeys than he, though, for as he forced himself away from her and the rock, she was already fine. Raising her wand, she hissed, "Don't move. I'd hate to kill you right now, but I'm fully prepared to do so."
Harry froze. Taking in his location, he realised he was back in the clearing of the Forbidden Forest where she had held him last time. "Full circle?" he asked coolly, and she gave a half-shrug in reply.
"It's a nice view," she said sarcastically. "But there's something a little different about this time."
Harry regarded her coldly, wondering whether he could cast a wandless spell or take an Annumagus form before she could bite out a spell. "You don't have a daemon to back you up? I'm not tied down?" he shot, "Or maybe you've grown a few brain-cells?"
Leone threw back her head and laughed delightedly. "That's so like you, Potter!" she crowed, "You're looking straight at death, and you still think you're in charge! No, I'm afraid the main difference is the aim of what I'm going to do to you. You see, Potter, the purpose of last time was to bring my sister back to life; but now she's undergone cremation. Quite impossible to bring her back.
"This time, your death is still going to be a key ingredient - but it will be for a much larger goal. Don't feel alone, though; you won't be the only one to die." she added.
Harry's only choices were to keep her talking, or to cast a spell - but he knew she was fast, and the best option was to distract her. "So, what? Another sacrifice? Your plans are hardly original," he sneered, hoping to rile her up.
She didn't seem very bothered, however. "Whatever's necessary," she smiled politely, and with a flick of her wand, chains twisted out from the huge rock that he had been tied to last time, and wrapped around him before he could react, pulling him into him. His skull made a nasty cracking sound as his head snapped against it, and he let loose a scream of pain - his vision blurred for a second, and agony rose at the point of contact.
His back hurt as well, and the gleaming rust-coloured chains gnawed into his arms, legs and torso. Another one snaked out and tugged his neck, until he could no longer move his head up or down. His hands were trapped, immobile; he could barely wriggle any part of his body, but for twisting his head painfully to the side.
"Hey, deja vu," he grumbled cynically. Leone ignored him, retrieving a heavy bag from behind a tree.
"What are you planning?" he demanded, eyeing the clunky bag. Leone gave him a gleeful look as she began taking the equipment out of the bag.
"I suppose you have a right to know," she purred, obviously happy with the chance to mess with his mind. "Firstly, the ritual is going to extract all your magic and put it into my daemon. Then I'm going to slit your throat, because I really don't like you."
Harry's eyes widened. "And what the Hell do you think you're going to accomplish?!" he shrieked, struggling at the chains.
"Revenge, as I've said many a time," Leone scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Honestly, don't you ever listen?"
"So why make a deal with Voldemort?" Harry snapped out, playing for time. Now she paid less attention to him, as she continued setting up candles and strange-looking items in a well-practiced manner.
"Quite simple, really. Your friend can sense empathic signatures -" Harry frowned for a second, but then realised that he had told Leone about Levina's ability, "- so I didn't want the daemon to attempt taking the wards down. But Voldemort has plenty of spies on these sides of the wards, so it was only too easy for them to make a Portkey here for me, and to plant the Myrrh Cage in your room."
She snorted in annoyance. "Unfortunately, Voldemort was hardly willing to help out of the goodness of his heart. I promised him that I'd give him the Myrrh Cage and pass on command of the daemon to him, in exchange for you - he was really only too happy to oblige; he knew what could be achieved with Syneeta and a Myrrh Cage with five more daemons."
Harry frowned, tugging futilely at his bonds. "Syneeta?"
"The name of the daemon," Leone sighed, rolling her eyes. "She's got quite an interesting story behind her."
Harry suddenly remembered where he had heard the name before. Syneeta - she was meant to be Y'Laagrondd's daughter; he had read it on the laptop when he had first got it! Hermione knew the story as well, he had heard her telling someone about it... Syneeta - she had killed someone, and been sentenced to become a daemon...
But that couldn't be true! It was mythology, it wasn't real. But if not, then why did he feel the now-familiar burning of the necklace? The burning that signified the carving of another rune?
Harry gritted his teeth. That wasn't important right now. What was important was stopping Leone.
But he had taken too long. The girl turned just as Harry closed his eyes, beginning to mouth the words that would knock her out, and saw what he was doing.
"Not this time," she snarled, lifting her wand. "STUPEFY!"
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Once more, Harry found himself Stupefied - but this time he knew immediately what to do. He mentally cast around for the link for just a second, before finding it and latching on to it. He felt a brief sensation of surprise from down the connection - he guessed that Ajax sensed him grabbing hold - and let it carry him along.
He found himself inhabiting the body of his Familiar within moments, but this time Ajax wasn't willing to shut up. 'What's happening?' he squawked in annoyance. 'I was trying to sleep!'
'Well, you can do it when I'm not being murdered,' Harry riposted, annoyed at sharing a body with the bird. 'Look, can you come back later? I'm a bit busy at the moment.'
'There's politeness for you,' muttered Ajax as Harry felt his personality fade away. 'Getting kicked out of your own body. Most people go through their whole lives without having it happen to them even once. I don't know ho..." Harry didn't hear anymore, as Ajax had now disappeared completely.
Feeling in control of the body, Harry tested his wings and gave his destination a few brief thoughts. Levina or Dumbledore? Well, Levina would actually be able to talk to him - and she could get down there faster. But where would she be? Cursing his lack of knowledge of the staff's quarters, Harry let loose a telepathic cry for help, directed only at the android.
She replied instantly; not words, but a general sense of where she was. Harry spread his wings again and took flight, rocketing out of the window and down by the main entrance, where Levina was now appearing, surrounded by her purple glow. She had obviously realised this was an emergency, for she held her sword as though she had just grabbed it.
Harry spoke as Ajax did, aloud rather than telepathically, but Levina understood. "Leone. In the Forest, where she held me last time. There's no daemon, but she's got the Myrrh Cage."
Levina nodded grimly, looking in the direction of the trees. The Sun was just beginning to rise over them. "What's she doing?"
"I don't know," Harry said, ruffling his feathers in a mix of nervousness and tiredness. "She's going to kill me though, in some kind of ritual. I don't know what she hopes to do - something about revenge, for her and the daemon." A thought struck him. "She said the daemon was called Syneeta," he added.
Levina froze for a moment, before pulling herself together. "But it isn't there?"
Harry shook his head before he could stop himself. "She told it to kill Voldemort, but it'll probably come back to her once it's done."
"Right," Levina sighed. "I'll stop her for now, but you know I'm not meant to be involved - get Dumbledore, and I'll disappear when the Aurors arrive." She pushed the main door open.
Harry took off as the violet aura enveloped her again, and slipped through the door inside the castle. All he had to do now was cause a lot of noise and wake someone up - and desperately hope Levina would make it in time.
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The android appeared just outside the Forest - if she went directly to the clearing, she would be easy to pick off while she was still materialising. Instead, she ran the rest of the way, planning her tactics.
As she reached the edge of the glade, though, she stopped to rethink the strategy.
The daemon Syneeta was here now, gasping rasping breaths, coated with slick blood. There were several long, gaping wounds which seeped a sticky red, carved along its stomach and arms, and its eyes showed fear. It looked as though it would hardly be a match for her.
But more importantly, there was Voldemort.
He too was injured, with several jagged slashes weeping up and down his face, and his heavy black robes were torn along his chest, caked with half-dried blood. He was not too injured to be defenceless, however. He was beyond any anger that was possible for a normal human - his eyes were mad with wrath, and he held his wand directly at Leone. His normally icy hands were now bone-white with the force he exerted upon them as he gripped the long, thin stick.
"You are as much a coward as your daemon," he was hissing through clenched teeth. "Just as that disgusting beast flees to its mistress as soon as it appears I will win, you are nothing more than a back-stabbing traitor. I honour my agreements - except when I am betrayed in such a way. And for that, I am going to kill you.
"Avad-"
Leone leapt aside, screaming, "Attack him!", and the daemon, bound to obey, did so. It smashed into Voldemort, knocking the Dark Lord's wand from his grasp, and snapping, screaming, gouging, at his neck.
Levina knew that this was more than enough to distract those two - now there was only Leone to deal with, and Harry, who was stunned and silent, bound up against the same flat rock he had been before. Leone was running over to him, her hand digging in her pocket -
Levina's eyes flashed with panic, bidding a spell to come to mind. There was no time for messing around - the Killing Curse would have to do. She readied the words and flung them towards the girl, the green light wailing silently out of the leaves she lurked behind and shooting at Leone.
But as the emerald curse reached her, Leone reached the cold grey rock. The curse decelerated as it approached the great stone, slowed down to near a halt as it tried to struggle onwards - the air around it seemed to ripple, shimmer -
Finally, Levina understood what Leone was doing. Transferring the magic that Harry had within him to the daemon; making it stronger, strong enough to create some kind of spell, to do something; and the powerful ritual had a whole aura of Harry's magic around it, exiting him on its way to Syneeta, invisible, so thick that outside magic couldn't pass through -
And Leone was close enough to be protected by it.
Levina drew her sword, prepared to run as fast as she could, to cover those dozen metres between them, but it was too late. She had stood there too long.
Leone finally completed that last step in front of Harry. She drew the dagger from her pocket - the same dagger she had wanted to use in this place an eternity ago - and the chains moved aside enough for her to slash it across Harry's throat in one easy swipe.
A slice that shredded flesh. A gush of red fluid that covered Leone in what was surely too brilliant, too red, too unreal to be blood.
And with that, Harry Potter was dead.
o0o
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