DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Harry's world swirled about him. He scolded himself for letting this happen. He'd let his guard down. He was having another vision. He felt the familiar pulling and tugging, and he dreaded the coming events.
The world around him slowly came into focus. He was in a home. It was a wizarding home. There were wizard photos on the wall. There were two people sitting in chairs nearby. Voldemort was standing in the center of the room, with his eyes closed. One of the people, a witch, was saying something. Harry tried to focus on the vision, in hopes that he could at least learn who these people were. He had no more desire to fight the visions or stop them or do anything more than try and discover any clue that might help him find out what Voldemort was trying to do.
"...What do you want from us?" the witch had been saying.
Voldemort started pacing around the room, as if he were searching for something. As his eyes scanned the walls around him, he addressed the family. "It seems you are not as clever as I first thought. I hoped this would not be necessary."
Harry tried to take note of the room. It looked like a struggle had taken place. Furniture and papers were scattered everywhere. Two wands were on the floor, one broken exposing a few strands of unicorn hair. He guessed that it had been a while since the fight had occurred and it didn't look like the other attacks. It seemed almost as if it were unplanned. There were only two Death Eaters in the room, both standing at the entrance to a hallway, but he could hear footsteps and voices coming from the floor above him.
"What are you talking about?" It was the wizard this time. "Why are you still here? Why not just kill us like the others? Did you make them wait for their deaths as well?" Harry saw him glance at the wands.
Voldemort turned to the wizard, "Oh, I haven't decided to kill you. At least... not both of you."
"Then why are you here? We won't help you. I'll die before I do that."
"Indeed." Voldemort turned and paced away from them. He stopped directly over the wands, and looked about the room. He looked at his captives and spoke to them as one would talk to a child. "Someone is in need of a lesson, and you are going to help me."
"We will not!" the witch yelled. Harry looked at her and felt that he had seen her before.
Harry's stomach clenched as Voldemort laughed. "Your purpose will be served despite your defiance. So, by all means: Fight back."
"We'll die fighting you, then."
"That will be unacceptable," Voldemort said as he paced away from them. Another Death Eater had entered the room. Before he could even speak, Voldemort interrupted him. "Very well. Bring them in."
Harry wondered who was being brought in. He watched the Death Eater walk down the hallway behind Voldemort which led to the front door of the home. He strained to see what was going on. He could see a door opening, and more cloaked figures entering. He heard a gasp from the witch sitting near him.
Harry felt it then, as well. To him, it was only the chill one might expect when sitting near a drafty window, but he felt it even in this dreamlike state. The Dementors drifted into the room and paused to survey its occupants. There were four of them, tall and grotesque. Slowly, all of their hoods turned to face the same direction. Harry followed their gaze to find another Death Eater standing in the shadows beside a large bookcase. With surprising speed, the Dementors turned and rushed toward the cloaked figure.
"STOP!" Voldemort shouted. "Remember our agreement! You will obey or I will leave you alone and starving in the deepest dungeon I can find."
To Harry's amazement, the Dementors froze even as the first one had grabbed the Death Eater's shoulders. They turned to glide away as a clear laugh filled the room.
"Those days are over," a woman's voice proclaimed. "We share a master now, and you will obey me because I carry his will and authority."
The Dementors gathered around the two captives as the Death Eater walked forward to join them. She stood in front of the witch and smiled. "You do remember me, don't you?"
The witch simply stared back at her and shook. "So... cold..." she tried to say
"Yes, they do that," the Death Eater replied, "but you get used to it after five years or so. I barely notice now." She walked to the couple and stood before them. "Capella York. I do remember your face. I remember all of your faces. You remember mine, don't you?"
"Bellatrix Lestrange," she responded with disgust.
Bellatrix pulled off her hood and mask. As he'd seen in his dream, she had regained most of the looks of her youth. Her hair was straight and smooth, though less shiny than it had been. She looked older and crueler than when he'd first seen her, and any beauty she had was ruined by the hatred and arrogance in her eyes.
"I did it," the witch whispered. "Let him go. It was me, not him."
"Yes. It was you," Bellatrix said. "And for that he will suffer. So will the others." She turned and walked away, casually looking at pictures on the wall. "You have a sister, in Spain. She works for the Gringott's branch," she said as she pointed at a picture.
Capella simply stared at Bellatrix. Bellatrix smirked and looked at the wizard sitting next to her. "He doesn't know, does he?"
Capella York turned to her husband next to her. "I was on the panel that convicted Bellatrix Lestrange of torturing Frank and Alice Longbottom."
Harry remembered seeing the trial. Or at least the end of it.
"And you have a child," Bellatrix attempted to say sweetly. "A third year at Hogwarts, but not a Slytherin," she added in a chastising tone.
"She's far from here. She's safe, and soon she'll be well beyond your reach."
Voldemort spoke up finally. "I think many wizards will be surprised to find just how long my reach has become." Voldemort walked to a window and gazed outside. "You may be brave when faced with your own death, but can you show the same courage when others are writhing and dying for what you've done?"
Harry was filled with an almost unbearable loathing and rage towards this creature he was forced to watch. He knew that fighting it was pointless, but he needed to do something, anything. He didn't know what he was going to do, but he had to try. Suddenly there was a cry from behind Voldemort. Randall York was going to fight were Harry could not.
"No!" he said as he stood from his chair. "You'll never hurt her! Accio wand!"
Harry felt the world slow down. He could feel the magic in the air as the wand jumped from the floor toward its owner. He felt a swell of hope. He might not be able to defeat Lord Voldemort, but perhaps he could save his family.
But it took only a split second for the Death Eater in the Hall to send a stream of red light into the room narrowly missing Randall. Bellatrix had her wand out and lunged toward him, launching some curse. The silvery surge of sparks from her wand was faster than the wand, and it lanced through his hand with a sickening crack of bone. Voldemort turned and with only a wave of his hand, the falling wand shot off toward its master again stabbing him in the thigh.
The world sped up, again. Randall York dropped to the ground, screaming. His hand was bleeding freely, but not so much as his leg. Voldemort walked to where the wizard lay struggling against the pain.
"That was foolish."
Randall composed himself. "Why?" he asked through clenched teeth. "You'll kill me anyway."
"You are correct," Voldemort said as he motioned for more Death Eaters to enter the room, "but you are being punished for her actions, so she must be punished for yours. Your daughter may be safe for now, but her sister is not." He nodded to the Death Eaters. "Fetch them."
A group of three Death Eaters Disapparated, and after less than a minute, they returned through the fireplace with three more people: A man, a woman, and a small child, all bound.
"Kill one of them."
"Which one?" Bellatrix asked as she raised her wand.
Voldemort didn't even turn to look. "It doesn't matter." Instinctively, Harry looked away. He knew what was coming.
"Avada Kedavra".
After the flash of green light, the room became silent. "What do you want? Why are you here?" Capella shouted through her tears. "It's more than just revenge."
Voldemort was slowly walking about the room. "I have already told you: A lesson must be learned."
"What lesson?" she yelled. "What are we supposed to learn from this?"
Voldemort laughed. Harry's anger rose again. How could he laugh at this?
"The lesson is not yours." He nodded to Bellatrix.
"Crucio!" The witch bound by the fireplace convulsed in pain. She wasn't even able to scream.
"Please, stop! What do you want? Who's lesson is it?"
Harry watched as a pair of Death Eaters entered the room. He knew what must be coming, and he knew he couldn't prevent it. But he couldn't control his rage. It wasn't fair. These people hadn't done anything. They weren't even offered any way to prevent it. This couldn't happen again. No! his mind shouted, Not another family!
But Voldemort was laughing again. "You're very close now," he hissed.
"Close to what? What are you talking about?"
The two Death Eaters levitated the bound witch, and Bellatrix pointed her wand at her. "Abiego!". The witch struck the far wall and fell limply to the ground.
Capella cried out as tears streamed down her face. "It's someone else, isn't it? Its not any of us."
"Crucio!!"
Randall spasmed and struggled, trying to escape the pain.
"Who is it? Who are we being punished for? The Ministry? Albus Dumbledore?"
"Dumbledore?" Voldemort laughed. "Abiego!!"
Randall York was picked up off the floor, and broke through the window. Harry was having trouble controlling his fear. He wanted it to end. He didn't want to see any more.
Voldemort walked to the fireplace, and knelt by the small girl there. "Finite Incantatem!". The girl sobbed, and looked back at him with tears in her eyes. Harry tried with all his might to stop this vision. He had to end this. He had to stop Voldemort from controlling him.
"Do you know Harry Potter?" Voldemort asked. Harry's blood ran icy cold. No. It couldn't be.
The girl simply stared back. "Everyone knows him. He defeated you. He beat you twice. He'll do it again."
Harry couldn't hear the words over the screaming of the child's aunt, but he knew the familiar green flash.
"Why?" she asked. "He's just a boy."
"No! He's more than that." Voldemort picked up a picture of her daughter. "What I have given him has made him much more than he should have been. But how much more?" He grabbed her chin and forced her to look into his eyes. "Your child is safe for now. Will you trust Potter to protect her? Will you put her life in his hands? When I send my loyal servants for her, will you trust Potter to stop them? When she is in your place, will you trust in his protection?"
"Yes," she sobbed.
"And for that you'll remain alive. I want you to be able to see the result of your foolish decision."
Harry's mind cried out in anger and hatred. "No! No more! If you want me, attack me!"
Voldemort looked around the room again. "The lesson has been learned. Harry Potter, let me introduce you to Mrs. Randall York."
"Stop this. Attack me!" Harry cried out.
"I will." Voldemort hissed as walked to the hallway. "Bellatrix, I believe you have something for Mrs. York."
"I do."
Voldemort slowly walked out of the house, pulling Harry along with him. When he reached the cool night air, he raised his wand.
"Morsmordre!!".
There was a sickly green glow which illuminated the area as Harry heard screams coming from the house. They lasted longer than Harry thought he could endure, but he found the silence which followed to be even more unbearable. He wanted to go. He wanted to run, but he was tied here, to the most horrible wizard in the world.
"It's done," Bellatrix announced from behind the point where Harry was watching Voldemort basking in the light of the Dark Mark. Voldemort's voice echoed in his head as his scar burned and throbbed.
"Off you go, Potter. Go tell all your little friends."
Harry rolled out of bed, feeling quite sick. He had trouble standing. His legs weren't cooperating and his whole body was shaking. He stumbled to the window and opened it, but to his horror, the Aurors weren't there. A hundred horrible ideas ran through his head. Had Voldemort killed them? Was he nearby, waiting to kill Harry now that he could barely walk? Had they left thinking that he didn't need them anymore? It didn't matter. He needed to let someone know immediately. He had only one choice.
"Remus Lupin," he croaked at the Mirror. The Mirror darkened and then cleared to show his own face. Remus wasn't there. He tried again, but still nothing. Had Voldemort killed them all?
"Ginny Weasley!" he choked. A moment later, Ginny's face appeared in the Mirror.
"Harry? I'm dead tired, Harry, and it's three in the morning. I swear I'll talk to you later today, but—"
"You have to f—" his voice failed "—have to find Lupin!" he interrupted. "He's not answering and... There was— There was an attack. The Aurors are gone. I can't see them, and—" Ginny's eyes snapped open and Harry could tell she was getting out of bed quickly.
"What am I supposed to say?" she asked frantically. "Do I say I just have a feeling something bad happened?"
"I don't know," Harry said as he gasped for breath, "Find Lupin. Find Hermione. Find someone. Her name... York... Randall York... She might still be alive..." The world was swimming around him again. He felt dizzy.
"Harry? Are you okay?" Ginny called, but he couldn't see her face anymore. He seemed to be surrounded by black cloth. Was this another vision? Why was Ginny screaming? The world around him went blank.
Harry awoke to the bright sunshine streaming in through his window. Where had the night gone? Had he had a vision? He couldn't remember anything more, but what he did remember seemed horrible enough for a lifetime of visions.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Potter. You couldn't even make it through the holidays without my help, I see."
"Now Poppy, I daresay Harry's done more than any of us these last few months, and with less sleep it seems."
"What time is it?" Harry asked. "...and where am I?"
"You are exactly where you were, roughly twelve hours ago when Arthur Weasley found you lying unconscious on the floor. The Dursleys have been kind enough —though just barely— to let Poppy and I treat you here. However, I do not believe Arthur will be welcome here again. It seems he gave them quite a startle when he came to check on you."
"Have you been avoiding sleep, Mr. Potter?" Madam Pomfrey asked him as she stirred up a potion. Harry was relieved to see that it looked more like a light tea than the sludge he'd been fearing.
"I— er... haven't—" he was startled by the raspiness of his own voice "I haven't been avoiding it, but I haven't gotten much either."
"Well, you need to get some more, this should help you sleep enough to feel all new. Should be about a day or so."
"No!" Harry said, startling his visitors, "I mean— Can't you leave it and I'll drink it tonight? I don't want to sleep just yet." Madam Pomfrey looked to Dumbledore, then back to Harry.
"Is there a reason you haven't been sleeping?" Harry felt a little embarrassed to say exactly why, but he felt too groggy to come up with any good reasons.
"Er... girl trouble, I guess." Madam Pomfrey gave an annoyed snort and shook her head mumbling, "Of course... just what he needs..."
"Is it any girl I'd know?" Dumbledore asked with a smile.
"Is there any girl I know who you don't?" Harry replied. Dumbledore laughed loudly.
"May I have a moment with Harry, Poppy?" he asked. Madam Pomfrey frowned and walked out reluctantly.
"What happened to me?" Harry asked as soon as she left.
"Poppy will undoubtedly come to the same conclusion I have. Some forms of magic can be quite exhausting, even more so when they are performed without a wand."
"The vision? But... the others didn't..." Harry paused. He hadn't tried to speak those times. He hadn't fought so hard. "Why doesn't he get tired? He's the one controlling them."
"Is that what happened?" Dumbledore asked. "Did you try to guide the vision?"
Harry paused to think. He had, and yet he'd done much more than that. He was certain that he'd actually spoken to Voldemort. What would happen if Dumbledore knew that? It didn't take long for Harry to imagine the answer: another year spent isolated from the Order. He wasn't going to betray the Order. It had taken everything he had just to say a few words. "Yes... I tried to stop it. I tried to run away." Harry felt only slightly guilty. It was, after all, most of the truth. "Why didn't it affect him?"
"Perhaps it did, but he has spent much more time practicing such things. Until you learn to control it, you will tire quickly. Many wizards would be lucky to be awake after only a good night's sleep." Harry stared at Dumbledore, reading the answer the old wizard wouldn't say: Voldemort didn't tire because he was more powerful than Harry was.
"You still need your rest, but you are otherwise quite healthy. Am I correct in guessing you wish to stay awake so you can see what news you hear about last night?" Harry nodded. "I may be able to help there." He stood up, and closed the drapes.
"Last night's attack was sudden and hasty, yet not completely unplanned. To be certain, it was less secretive. You did not see the Aurors, because they had already been called away. The Aurors were called to investigate a pair of odd green flashes seen from the house of known wizards. Remus Lupin was already trying to find the other Order members when you tried to notify him. Ginny found him almost immediately though, and I do not think anyone even noticed her."
"What about the... Are they all—"
"No, not all of them," Dumbledore said quickly. "Capella York was still alive when the Aurors showed up." Harry's eyes brightened and he started to sit up, but Dumbledore's face still looked grave. "I'm afraid she is still in St. Mungo's. She's in no danger—" Dumbledore said quickly in an effort to calm Harry, "—but she is rather... ill. The wizards there cannot work out just what is wrong with her. She seems to be showing the symptoms seen in wizards who have spent too much time in Azkaban, yet she could not have spent more than ten minutes with the Dementors."
"She was... alone with Bellatrix Lestrange. She did something," Harry said through his teeth. "I know she did."
"I see. That may be more useful than you realize. There is also something else, which you may be able to understand more than others." Dumbledore paused to look into Harry's eyes, and Harry felt suddenly defensive, as if Dumbledore was about to accuse him of something. "Mrs. York is mostly incoherent, but for a time after they found her she was still able to speak, and even now the wizards attending her swear they occasionally hear her mention your name."
Harry simply nodded his head. Dumbledore continued. "I don't think there is anything else I need to ask you. Was there anything else, anything at all strange or noteworthy about your vision?"
Harry could feel Dumbledore's eyes on him as he looked at the ceiling. What was he supposed to tell him? Oh, nothing really abnormal. I just had a little chat with the most evil wizard of our times after he tortured a family just to get to me. He knew he should tell Dumbledore, but he couldn't right now. He wanted to talk to Ginny first.
"They fought back," he said instead and Dumbledore nodded in confirmation. Harry quickly explained what Voldemort had told the woman. "Her daughter... I think Voldemort means to attack her as well."
"Unfortunately, I'm certain you are correct."
"They said she was away... that she was safe. Is she?"
"I believe that she is. Very few people know where she is, and even were they to find her, they would not do so without notice. You don't need to worry about her, Harry."
But Harry did. He remembered the vision. Her mother had said she trusted Harry to protect her. He couldn't just let Voldemort use her to torture her mother even more. He'd have to find her. The Death Eaters wouldn't think twice about killing any number of Aurors, but Harry was almost certain they wouldn't touch him. Voldemort would want to kill Harry himself.
"Who is she? What house is she in?"
"That information is quite dangerous right now. You will learn it soon enough. I don't believe there is anything I can do to prevent that, but I have a bit of reading to do until then. It is a matter which I am certain we will speak of again." Harry was annoyed by his cryptic response, but he'd say no more on the subject, despite Harry's protests. Instead he pressed Harry for anything else he might have seen. Harry became annoyed and decided to be just as difficult. After only a few attempts, Dumbledore gave up.
"I shall let you get your sleep," he said stiffly. He seemed puzzled, and looked like Harry often felt while playing chess against Ron. "Or perhaps you would like some time to think before sleep." Harry nodded. He wanted some time to speak with Ginny. His mind still felt cloudy and slow.
He allowed Madam Pomfrey back in, and she immediately fussed over him for a few moments before giving his potion one last stir, and replacing the stopper. With a nod, the two of them Disapparated.
Alone, Harry felt his exhaustion return. The vision was still fresh in his mind, despite the twelve hours which had passed since he'd had it. He was now certain of many things, and Dumbledore's words had convinced him of some others. As he looked over at the stand where his clock, mirror, and the mermaid postcard lay, he felt quite discouraged. It wouldn't end. It wasn't fair. Hadn't he done enough?
With a mixture of reluctance and anxiousness, he took the mirror and called for Ginny. She appeared seconds later, with a relieved smile stretching across her face. "You're okay?" she asked.
"Yeah," Harry replied, feeling somewhat embarrassed. He disliked fainting, and had grown to utterly despise being reminded of it by others. At least Malfoy wouldn't know about it. "I'll be fine, I'm just really tired."
"What happened?" she asked, "Dumbledore and Lupin were really worried."
"I talked to him," Harry said.
"To Dumbledore?" Ginny questioned.
"No. To him. I talked to Voldemort." The color drained out of Ginny's face. "I'm not quite sure how yet, but I'm sure that he's been trying to get me to do it for some time."
"You mean—"
"They were attacked because of me. All of them. He wanted to get me so angry that I'd want to talk to him."
Ginny's eyes narrowed. "So that's it then? He'll just stop now?"
"He won't stop," Harry said plainly. "They aren't just visions anymore. I can feel some of what he feels. I can feel some of his emotions and thoughts. I don't think I've ever felt so much hatred and anger, it's... " Harry trailed off, trying to remember as much as he could. "He hates me, but he's afraid of me."
"He won't stop," Harry repeated with more certainty. "Not until one of us is dead. That's what the prophecy said. In the end, we'll have to face each other. He doesn't know that yet, but its what he suspects."
"You don't have to do it alone, Harry. Ron and Hermione would follow you even if you tried to stop them. So would I."
For a moment, Harry felt a swell of happiness. He remembered the six of them standing against the Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries. But his blood chilled with the memory of words that held new terror for him. Very well— take the smallest one... Let him watch while we torture the little girl... "No! Not you," he said forcefully.
"And why not me, Harry Potter?" she responded. Anger played behind her eyes.
"I couldn't take it if you..." he started, as his mind started running though all sorts of terrible things that could happen. "We can't do this, Ginny. You have to stay away from me. It's not safe."
"And where will it be safe, Harry? Where would anyone go to escape him if he wins?" She had a point, and it only made Harry understand the pressure on him more acutely. He didn't want to have to do it alone, but he didn't want her to get hurt either.
"I just don't want you to be another one of Voldemort's victims." The anger left Ginny's face, but it was replaced with a sad, hollow look.
"I already am."
He'd forgotten again. It was always so easy to forget. Voldemort might not have taken as much from her as he had from Harry, but Ginny had suffered more than Ron or Hermione. He sat in silence as he tried to decide what to say next.
"Look, Harry, we don't have to tell anyone," she said in a much softer voice. "Not until we know who we can trust. We'll just be good friends to everyone else. Hermione already knows, of course. Would've been silly to even try to hide that from her. Dumbledore knows, and I'm sure Lupin has a pretty good idea."
"What about Ron?" Harry asked.
"I don't think we have to worry about Ron," Ginny said with a laugh. "Not like I'd tell him anyway." Harry still felt a little unsure of the idea, but he was too tired to form any complaint. Ginny smiled at him, and he started feeling better about it.
It could work. They didn't even have much to keep a secret. They really weren't much more than good friends, were they? He'd never had many friends, but Hermione had never made him feel like Ginny did. He felt himself getting dizzy, so he laid down. Ginny could tell and she did her best impression of Molly.
"You go off to bed, now, Harry," she said with a smile, then in her normal voice, "We'll talk tomorrow." Harry reached over and downed the contents of the flask Madam Pomfrey had made for him. It wasn't sweet, but neither was it bitter or sour. It was slightly fruity. As he tried to figure out which fruit, the world slipped away around him, leaving him asleep on his bed, clutching the small mirror.