The Will of the Wands
Chapter 6 – A Startling Epiphany
The first thing Harry said to the people he recognized as his dorm-mates was, "Make sure they're safe," before slumping into unconsciousness.
The next thing he knew, he was sitting up in the Hospital Wing, surrounded by people ranging from Mrs. Weasley, who was still clutching her knitting, to Professor McGonagall. "Aah, Potter, you're awake," noted Madame Pomfrey, bustling over with what looked like the whole cupboard of restorative potions.
"Glad you're better, Potter," McGonagall said. She had her hat in her hands, and was wringing it until it was in knots, which was very unlike her. He then realized why she was so uncomfortable. The last time this had happened, Mr. Weasley was attacked.
"Perhaps you could tell us why you woke up screaming," a voice came from behind the crowd. Harry recognized it easily as Professor Dumbledore's. Mrs. Weasley stepped aside to let the elderly man through. "I realize that this is a very trying time for you, Harry, but I must ask that you tell us exactly what you saw." Behind him, Ron and Hermione stood, looking very white and shaken.
"The first years!" Harry said absently, almost shouting. "Where are the first years?"
"Mr. Potter, the first years are elsewhere, as they should be," McGonagall said sharply. "Besides, what does that have to do with what you saw?"
"Everything," Harry said shortly.
The wind howled, spray from the coast drenching the Death Eaters distributed to three rowboats. Two at the front of each boat, they rowed closer to their destination. A simpering bald man met them at the dock.
"The Dark Lord has been expecting you," he wheezed. The man in the most prominent boat stepped out, silvery hair whipping in the wind.
"And I would suppose that you have no clue as to the reasons we are here, as usual," he sneered. The bald man instantly began rubbing his right wrist, as if something had been triggered by the man's words. "Where are we to congregate?"
"The temple," the bald man said shortly. "And Lucius, be aware- Nagini's hungry." The silvery-haired man's eyes flashed, and he lunged for the bald man. But to no avail. The shorter man had already vanished into the mist.
Lucius beckoned to the other men in the rowboats, who instantly followed. They quickly clamored up winding stone steps, until at last they reached the ancient place where a rather regal-looking stone altar stood, and behind it, a skeletal man and a giant snake.
Almost as if they had been forced down by an invisible hand, the group of men following Lucius immediately kneeled upon seeing this man, who spoke in a high whisper. "Aaah, Lucius. Wormtail here says you bring news." Again, the short, rodent-like man was at his side, smirking. Trying to avert his eyes so he wouldn't lose his temper, Lucius wrenched his gaze away from Wormtail and settled it on the eyes of his master.
"Yes, My Lord. The wizarding world grieves, for one of their most beloved has fallen ill." The red-eyed man raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow, obviously questioning Lucius.
"Go on, Lucius, I am most interested." Voldemort brought his lips into a smile, long hands stroking his chin.
"Deathly ill." With those last words, Voldemort laughed- a spine-tingling sound that made the short hairs on Lucius' neck stand up.
"Lucius, I am most impressed. You and your brother-in-law continue your work concerning the welfare of the children. Do not harm the Key's friend, as I doubt that Williams is willing to give up his last daughter just yet. No, do not harm the Key or her friends until my command. Keep your watch, and stay on guard. Lord Voldemort appreciates this, I hope you understand."
"Yes, My Lord," Lucius whispered as he sunk onto his knees again. "Once the Minister is dead, you will have a breach in their defenses."
The hospital wing, for once, was dead silent. White faces stared back at Harry, who eyed them back with annoyance.
"What?" he said irritably. "That's what I saw, I'm telling the truth."
"We don't doubt that, Potter," Professor McGonagall said finally. She was whiter than before, and her hat was completely nonexistent.
"What Minerva is trying to say is, if these first years are in danger, as you fear, then we must act quickly to take the proper precautions to ensure their safety." Dumbledore said. His eyes seemed faded, like he was slowly draining of energy and power. However, that did not seem to afflict him, for the next thing he said was, "Time for some chocolate, eh, Harry? I do believe that I have some of your favorite Honeydukes brand for you."
As he was handed the parcel, Harry stared at the aging man, who grinned back. "Thank you, Professor, but how'd you know that my favorite Honeydukes chocolate flavor is vanilla mint swirl?"
"Aah," said Dumbledore, "As one of my favorite men in history said, 'Ask me no questions, and I shall tell you no lies.'" He winked at Harry, then strode out of the room, followed by McGonagall.
"What was that about?" Ron said, moving over to the vacant chair beside the hospital bed Harry occupied.
"Dunno," Harry shrugged. He unwrapped the package and offered the chocolate around.
"I wish I knew what he was talking about, though."
"That's okay, Harry," Ron said, smiling. He turned around. "Oy, Hermione! Bit of research for you. Who said, 'I'll tell no lies if you ask no questions' or some rubbish like that?"
Hermione groaned. "Ron, I don't know. Do I look like a walking encyclopedia to you?"
Ron grinned. "Well, you know what they say. If the shoe fits-"
"Ronald Weasley, you had better not finish that sentence if you don't want to spend the holidays sharing a room with Percy, because I'll give your usual room to Hermione when she and Harry come Christmas," Mrs. Weasley said sharply, not looking up from her knitting. It strangely resembled a circus tent, but looked to be one of the famous Weasley sweaters. Harry guessed that if he had to bet on it, he'd give all the gold in his vault saying that it was a holiday sweater for Hagrid.
"Harry and Hermione are coming to the Burrow for Christmas?" Ron said hopefully. He elbowed Harry eagerly. "I'll bet that everyone's coming home for Christmas, so you'll get to see- Hey!" He turned to his mother again. "Did you say that I'd have to share with Percy?"
"That's exactly what I said," Mrs. Weasley answered. She lowered her eyes so Harry wouldn't see her obvious discomfort of broaching the next subject. "Only we're not having Christmas at the Burrow."
"No Christmas at the Burrow?" Ron asked incredulously. "But how can we have Hermione and Har-" he stopped talking abruptly, staring at his mother. Harry craned his neck to see around Ron's mop of red hair, to confirm his fears. When she looked up again, she was crying.
"Oh, Harry," she sobbed, sitting down on the edge of the bed and throwing her arms around his neck, "I'm so sorry, I know you probably don't want to go back there after what happened, but I just couldn't let the Order down. Besides, Remus will be all alone, and you know what it's like to spend holidays alone, don't you?"
Harry felt numb. Here was the woman he thought of as close to a mother he could get, embracing him like he was part of her own family, one of her own children. And she was unhappy because she was worried that the thought of returning to Grimmauld Place after Sirius's death would upset him. She was one of the few people he considered family; one of the people he knew he was loved by.
"Mrs. Weasley, it's okay," he assured her, patting her head awkwardly, just as Ron had done numerous times when Hermione had lost her nerves and wrapped her arms around his neck. "It's okay, I know it's convenient for the Order, I could never make them give something as good as that up, because it just happened to be Sirius's old house."
"Are you sure?" whispered Mrs. Weasley, trying to dry her eyes with her scarf and flatten his unruly hair at the same time. "Remus was so worried that you wouldn't want to come because of it, and if you don't, or if you change your mind about coming, we can arrange with Dumbledore to bring everyone here, and shut the Order down for the holidays. It's your choice, Harry. Whatever you want." She squeezed him tightly in reassurance.
"Thanks," Harry said as he hugged her back.
Halfway through an enormous essay assigned for the next Transfiguration class, Dakota heard her name being called. She was in the common room, to the side of a flickering fire. The seat she'd chosen was actually quite unnoticeable, as it was situated in one of the many cylindrical windows in the tower. This way, she had thought, if she saw Millie coming, she could make a clean getaway or pretend that she wasn't there. However, it was plain to see that her plan wasn't working very well.
"Dakota!" Millie strode over to her, gasping for breath. "We need to talk." She looked down at her expectantly.
"Oh?" Dakota instantly regretted sounding bored, as Millie's face paled, and her eyes lowered. Then they began to speak at the same time.
"Look, I'm sorry I overreacted-"
"I'm sorry I wasn't being more sensitive-"
"-Put me in a bad mood, wasn't your fault-"
"-If I'd learn to keep my mouth shut from time to time-"
Millie and Dakota both stopped abruptly, blushing furiously. "Go on," they chorused. When they realized what they'd just done, they pointed at the other and said in unison, "You first."
It was Dakota who finally took initiative. "So we both overreacted, and were complete gits to each other, and we're both sorry. Friends again?"
Millie smiled. "Friends again."
The next morning, the morning of the first Quidditch match of the season, they awoke bright and early to see the still form of Professor McGonagall standing above them, eyes wide, face stark white. "Both of you need to come with me to the headmaster's office right away. I'm afraid it is very urgent."
A/N: Well, I hope you all will bear with us, and restrain yourselves from throwing butcher knives at our heads. That doesn't exactly sound like fun. No, really? I never would have noticed. Ha. Ha. Very funny. I thought so. I DIDN'T! Weellll, that's because-(lowers voice to a whisper)-you're a git. Hmmmm, it sounds like you're saying that I'm a git, but I know you wouldn't do that. Right? (cue in the chirping crickets) Not funny. Any questions you have, put them in that little box thing that comes up when you review, and we'll try to answer them when we acknowledge your questions or somehow work the solution into the story. Yeah, we're gonna try to answer all of our reviews. No matter how many their are. Yup yup. Okay, we need to go now. Aah, yes, we do. Much to do, Pig's story to write...Did you say that out loud? (raises eyebrows at Dufoli, who smiles sheepishly at Siaryst) No.....you're hearing things... -Siaryst & Dufoli
