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 felt himself drifting toward consciousness. The world was still dark and muffled, but he felt himself slowly waking up. He felt his eyelids open slowly, and the world grew brighter. It was still swimming about him in a blurry haze, but it was there.
He was alive.
He couldn't yet remember why he should be surprised, or why he should be glad about it, but it seemed right to feel a little bit of both. Shapes were moving about him, and they made faint noises that he vaguely understood. One of them loomed quite close over him and his thoughts brightened at the memory of the smell of raspberries.
In a blink, the world sharpened significantly, yet not completely. He was wearing glasses. He blinked repeatedly trying to focus on everyone standing around him. He could recognize most of them now, faces from what felt like years ago.
Ginny was sitting close on his right, and Dumbledore nearby on his left. One of the moving shapes had been Madam Pomfrey who was busy stirring a blue liquid in a large bottle. At the foot of the bed stood Ron, with white bandages wrapped around his head.
Harry searched for any memory of Ron injuring his head, but nothing stood out in his mind. Why was he here? He had faint memories of falling asleep on the floor... he'd been here waiting for Ron to wake up. Was this just a dream? Why was he in the bed instead of Ron?
Pomfrey walked over to him and put the bottle to his lips. "Drink this —just a few sips should do for now," she instructed him as she tipped the bottle up. The liquid was slightly sour, but otherwise not terribly bad. "I'm sure you feel tired, but you've slept quite enough and this will help wake you up."
She'd been right, and as the world slipped into focus around him he noticed the grave looks on everyone's faces. Ginny gave him a genuine smile, but Ron looked away and rubbed his forehead lightly.
A solitary memory flashed into Harry's mind: Ron, bound and helpless with Hermione's glowing wand pressed up to his forehead. Ron looked back at Harry and Harry knew that Ron could tell what he was thinking.
"Welcome back, Harry," he croaked. "We were worried about you."
Harry felt his vision blurring again, and suddenly all the memories came flooding back in nauseating detail. He remembered the revulsion of having his best friend try to seduce him, the feeling of suffocation as he reeled with the pain of his bones breaking, and the sickening stench of blood as he and Hermione lay struggling for their lives on the floor of the common room.
It took all of his strength to keep his stomach under control. He could feel the beads of sweat on his forehead as he struggled to stay awake. It was too much. How could everything have gone so wrong? When he opened his eyes again, there were even more people standing around his bed, and their faces looked even more concerned than before.
He searched the small crowd looking for one particular face. Molly Weasley was there, looking appropriately worried. A number of Aurors had gathered in the back, and standing next to Ron was Remus Lupin, smiling with relief and pride. Others were there, too: Professor McGonagall, Tonks, Emiline Vance, and even Daphne Greengrass.
But not Hermione.
Harry closed his eyes and took two deep breaths. How long had he been asleep? How badly had he hurt Hermione? He opened his eyes again and forced himself to ask Ginny the one question which he desperately wished he didn't have to ask.
"Did she... Is she..." he started to say in a rough whisper. He swallowed hard and tried to continue. "Is Hermione... here? Is she—"
"Hermione will be alright," Ginny said with a comforting smile. "She's just in the next bed. She's fine, Harry, she's just sleeping."
"Are you certain? She's not—"
"She was sitting on the bed next to you this morning," Ginny interrupted with a gentle voice.
Harry felt his heart skip. "She's alive? The Aurors... they didn't do anything?"
"Not to her," Ginny said with a frown. "It would have worked, Harry. They would have killed her if you hadn't fought and I hadn't stunned Dolohov." Ginny nodded at the bed behind her. "That was my bed the evening after the attack. When they showed up, they just saw you and Hermione on the floor and your blood on my hands. Remus stopped them before it got too bad. If I would have fought back..."
Harry took a moment to try and work out everything that had happened. They'd worked so hard to try and stop the attack, but they hadn't even understood what was going on. Ron had been attacked to get him and Hermione alone together, so that when Ron got out, he would be subjected to the scene that had occurred in the common room. He had indeed been the target, but Hermione was the tool to make it happen.
It was Ginny who had stopped all of it. They hadn't expected her to be with Harry, and despite everything that he did to try and make sure the plan failed, only Lupin had prevented them from succeeding in a way that would have been better than any of Voldemort's plans.
"What have we done?" he whispered to Ginny. "Without Lupin... you'd have been dead, and... We tried so hard, and it only made things worse. He still got them both." Harry looked at Ron. He knew what was under the bandages, and he remembered all the things Hermione had said.
"No, Harry. Don't you see?" she said in an excited voice, "We stopped it. It doesn't matter what else happened. No matter how bad it looks, we stopped Tom. He hadn't planned for Hermione to still be here, or Ron, or me. We're all still here, and we're by your side. He failed. That's all that matters."
In his head, he knew she was right. That had been their goal in the first place. And yet, he couldn't forget the sound of Hermione screaming in agony as she marked herself. Voldemort hadn't succeeded, but neither had they. Still, it was quite an improvement over the last few tries.
Madam Pomfrey came around with another potion for him to drink. With a little help, he sat up against the headboard and downed a small bottle of thick purple liquid. It tasted as vile as Harry expected, but the flavor passed quickly.
"How are you feeling?" Lupin asked him.
"Weak," Harry responded, "I don't think I'll be able to do that again for a few days."
Lupin smiled. "Yes, well I doubt Hermione will feel up to it either."
"It wouldn't really be up to her, would it?" Harry asked as she stared at his leg. It still ached a little. "There isn't much any of us can do about it either. We just get to sit here and wait for the next attack. The Aurors can't stop them. I can't stop them, not now. Not even Dumbledore can stop them." Harry glanced over at Dumbledore, but the headmaster said nothing. Harry looked around at the various members of the Order around him.
"There haven't been any other attacks, have there?" he asked quietly. "This is what he's been doing, isn't it?"
Lupin frowned. "It's all that we've found, Harry. There might be other plans that he's just waiting to put into—"
"There aren't," Harry interrupted. "This was his plan. It took us all this time to see it. I don't see how we'll recover."
"Is it that bad, Harry?" Lupin asked. He seemed genuinely worried. Harry stared at him for a moment. He'd saved Ginny. He'd stolen the last chance for Voldemort's plan to succeed.
"It's even worse. You shouldn't have come. You shouldn't have gotten involved."
"I'm not afraid of Voldemort," Lupin said sternly.
"Neither was Ginny. Or Hermione. What are you afraid of?"
"It doesn't matter. I won't leave just to save myself."
"Who said you were in any danger?" Harry replied. Lupin didn't understand. Even Harry hadn't understood until just now. Only Ginny had truly understood, and even then, only after it was too late. The attacks had never been about Dumbledore, the Order, the students, or even Hogwarts. Harry stared at Lupin, not wanting to say what he was about to say.
"When is the next full moon?"
Lupin's eyes twitched slightly. "That's not funny, Harry."
"It's not a joke, Remus," Ginny said firmly. "You need to find someplace safe to hide out during the next full moon. You should leave quite a few days before then."
"Why?" Lupin asked. "How can you be so certain?"
"You saved me," Ginny answered. "You stopped it. You're new. You've got a strong link to Harry, and you showed everyone that day that you care about Harry."
"But Dolohov is unconscious and locked in some cell. How could anyone know?"
"He'll know. He probably already does."
"Voldemort knows where my loyalty is. He knows I'm the last of James' friends. He's always wanted me dead. I won't hide in some cave because there is a chance that Death Eaters are coming for me."
"Don't you get it? He doesn't care about you. He doesn't care about Hermione. He doesn't care about any of you," Harry announced. "Hermione was supposed to be dead, and Ron was supposed to hate me for it. We stopped that, and now he's furious." He turned to look at Ginny. "You can feel it, now, can't you? He's not breaking people's legs anymore. He didn't want to kill Hermione. He wanted me to kill her. He didn't hurt Ginny, he wanted me to hurt her. He isn't going to attack you," he told Lupin. "He'll make me attack you, or make you attack someone else, and I'm not afraid to fight back anymore."
Lupin seemed a little shaken by that thought, and it took a moment for him to respond. "I... It doesn't matter, Harry. We're doing all we can. We'll find something. I'll do whatever needs to be done."
"There's nothing you can do." Harry replied.
"Harry," Dumbledore said from the side of his bed. "You do not have to do this alone."
"It won't really matter, will it? Soon, there won't be anyone else left."
No one really said anything else after that. Dumbledore stood and ushered Lupin and the Weasleys (including Ron) away from Harry's bed. Everyone else followed them, probably to someplace where they could all talk. Harry was surprised and pleased to see that Ginny hadn't left.
To his left, he was finally able to see Hermione's bed. She looked calm and peaceful as she slept, ignorant of the discussion which had just taken place. Madam Pomfrey had been watching over her, but now that the room was clearing out she came over to look at Harry.
"You've been asleep for nearly four days, Mr. Potter. Your leg should be fine, though there may be a twinge or so from it. The one thing you've had plenty of is rest. What you need now is some activity. You'll want to get up and walk about —never far, mind you," she warned him. "You'll find that you tire quickly at first, but you'll feel better if you don't spend the day in bed." She set a large bottle of lime green liquid on the bed stand next to him. "Whenever you wake up, you take a few mouthfuls of this," she said, tapping the bottle firmly. "It's nothing abnormal, it will just help you recover faster."
Harry nodded and slowly swung his legs off the bed and cautiously tried to stand. Pomfrey helped him up and then frowned at Ginny. "I will permit Miss Weasley to remain with you, because of the courage and care she has shown. Do not make me regret that."
Harry took her advice and, with help from Ginny, he walked around the castle for a half-hour or so at a time, often stumbling back to bed and falling asleep for an hour or more. Each time he awoke, Ginny was sitting next to him, sometimes with a book, sometimes with trays of food brought by the House Elves. Each time he woke up, it was a little later, and after one last stroll to the Great Hall, Ginny said goodnight. She gave him a quick kiss and then turned and walked out of the Hospital Wing.
It was dark, and late, but Madam Pomfrey was right. He really didn't need sleep. He awoke only a couple hours later to a dimly moonlit room. There wasn't really any hope of going back to sleep, so he slipped out of bed quietly, took a quick drink of the potion at his bedside, and walked around the large room.
He'd felt stronger each time he walked around, but he hoped that he'd be able to tire himself out before too long. After walking around for some time, he still felt fully awake.
"I'm feeling stronger, too," a voice called out from behind him. Harry turned and found Hermione standing in the shadows between a window and the corner of the room. "I figured it was only a matter of time before you woke up. At least I don't have to be alone anymore."
Harry walked over to stand by the window. The moon was large and bright, but it was waning. Harry tried to work out how much time Lupin had before the next full moon.
"How is your leg?" Hermione asked.
"Fine. It actually itches a little."
"I'm sorry I kept missing you," she apologized. "I think they were trying to keep me from talking to you."
"Why?"
"I woke up last night," she said as she looked out the window. "I had been having the most horrible nightmares, and when I woke up I was alone in the dark, and all the nightmares were true. I... I didn't handle it well."
"No one told me anything. They were all running around trying to figure out why you weren't waking up. And Ron... He wouldn't talk to me. Well, he would talk to me about Quidditch or what Fred and George had brought with them, but not about... this. He'd barely even look at me."
"You can't think he actually believed any of those you said?"
"Don't you?" she replied. "You heard what I said. You know what the Aurors told us. Maybe I couldn't fight it because parts of it were true." Harry didn't know how to respond. There really wasn't much he could say. Eventually, Hermione answered for him. "I'm trying to convince myself that that it wasn't. It shouldn't be. It can't be. It's never crossed my mind, and yet if it's so obviously false why couldn't I— How can I convince him if I can't convince myself?"
"It'll get better," Harry said in an attempt to comfort her.
"When will it get better, Harry?" Hermione replied. "In a month? Two months? Will we still be alive then?" Hermione's voice was edged with a little desperation. "I can't tell if he's angry at me or himself, but it's killing me. I can see it in his eyes when he looks at me: the guilt, the shame, the fear... and the same look he gave me when I gave him that horrible scar."
"That wasn't you—"
"It was me, Harry," she said sharply. "I remember it all. I just didn't fight it hard enough, and he knew that I wouldn't. He knew that I was too weak to stop it. How could he know? How did he know just what it would take? How can we fight that? And now..." Hermione's voice trailed off into a number of faint sobs.
"It's not your fault, Hermione—"
"What does that matter, Harry?" she asked through her tears. "He used me to hurt Ron, and I couldn't stop it. Neither of us will ever be able to forget this... if we even live long enough to try." Hermione wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her dressing gown. "That's what Ginny realized, isn't it? So why the sudden change between the two of you? What did you tell her that made her feel so much better? I don't suppose you'd tell me?"
"I... I don't know how to explain it..." Harry mumbled.
"Try," Hermione pleaded. "What could you have said that made any of this alright? What convinced her that everything would work out?" She looked into Harry's eyes, and for a moment he wanted to try and explain it to her. Her face relaxed and her eyes blinked in realization. "It's not, is it? She's just accepted that it's never going to be alright. That's it, isn't it?"
Harry couldn't look into Hermione's eyes and answer her. She wouldn't understand. She couldn't. She didn't know what he knew. He could never explain how hopeless the situation was. He wrenched his eyes from hers, and forced himself to turn and walk back to his bed.
"Harry!" she called out, "It can still be alright! Tell me you haven't given up. Promise me you won't just accept this."
"I won't stop fighting," he replied over his shoulder. "Fighting back is all I've got left, now. That's all that matters anymore. I will fight him however I can, until one of us can't fight any more." He pulled back the covers of his bed and layed down. "I'm feeling a bit sleepy, again. I'll see you tomorrow morning."
As Harry tried to force himself to sleep, he couldn't escape the sound of Hermione crying in the bed next to him. Nothing he tried, covering his ears, pillows, and even Silencing Charms, was able to block it. It seemed to be coming from within his own mind.
When Harry woke up the next day, Ginny was back and sitting in the chair next to him. When he pulled the curtain to see if Hermione was awake, he found her bed empty.
"She's not doing well," Ginny explained. "Pomfrey moved her to a different room."
"Does Ron know?" Harry asked groggily.
"Ron... er, Ron hasn't left his bed since early last night. He's been avoiding pretty much everyone."
Harry closed his eyes and almost wished he could fall back to sleep. Every time he thought that the situation couldn't get any worse, it did. Voldemort had failed at killing her, but he'd succeeded at taking both her and Ron from Harry.
Ginny stayed by his side throughout the morning, bringing him a large breakfast (on Madam Pomfrey's orders) to help strengthen him. By noon he was starting to feel somewhat close to normal, or at least normal for the day after a Quidditch match. He was able to pace around the room and help Ginny study for the O.W.L.s. Harry got the impression that she wasn't terribly focused on them, and seemed to be more interested in simply getting him to talk.
When noon rolled around, she left briefly to pick up food for both of them. When she returned, there were a number of people following them. The majority of them were simply Aurors, but her father was also in the group, as well as Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, all of the Heads of House, and Dumbledore. Following them was Ron, but he kept to the back of the room as if he didn't want to be seen.
Ginny was walking toward Harry's bed, holding a large tray of food. "I'm sorry, Harry," she apologized. "They asked how you were doing, and I didn't want to lie, so..." She shrugged and held out the food.
"It's fine," he said with a small smile. So long as he got to eat, he didn't mind if a roomful of people wanted to ask him questions. It wasn't like he had any of the answers they wanted to hear. After allowing him some time to eat, Dumbledore and Shacklebolt started casually asking him about what had happened.
As he'd predicted, for most of the questions they asked, he had absolutely no answer. He didn't know how Dolohov had gotten in. He didn't know how he knew where to find Hermione, or even how long Hermione had been under the Imperius before he'd found her. The longer the session went on, the more frustrated everyone got, including Harry.
It became quite clear that no one had any idea how the attack had happened, or what had been done to make it possible. Several of the Aurors explained that even Dolohov was unsure of exactly what had happened. It seemed that he'd been possessed by Voldemort to some degree, and had only the faintest memories of the last few weeks.
"I hate to say this, Albus," Kingsley said, "but maybe it's time to consider closing Hogwarts early this term."
"That's simply unacceptable," Dumbledore replied. "You know as well as I do, that if Hogwarts closes it will not reopen until this war is unquestionably over."
"That's what we've wanted from the start of the year," an Auror shouted from the back.
"And that is what I've been fighting since one instant after that time. There is no safer place for these students to be. I'm absolutely certain of that."
"I'm not," the Auror replied. "Seems to me that it's impossible to make this place safe. We've tried just about everything, but all we've ever succeeded in doing is showing up just as the Death Eaters disappear. Even when the I.C.W. was here we couldn't keep the place secure. We just can't—"
The Auror was cut short by a sudden shrill squealing noises which seemed to come from a half dozen places in the room. Harry immediately sat up and grabbed his wand from the bed stand.
The Auror ripped a piece of parchment from his pocket and examined it. A moment later, he pointed his wand at it. With a sharp, commanding "End!" the noise lessened, and Harry watched as a number of the Aurors did the same thing.
"You see?" the Auror said with obvious frustration as he waved the parchment at Dumbledore. "We spend half our time tracking down stuff like this."
"What was that?" Harry asked before the argument continued.
"It was a Dark Detector. We've got loads of them throughout the school. They're supposed to detect the use of dark magic," the Auror told him. "Of course, the one in the Library's been tripped again. It's been going off a few times a week since we set it there, and each time it does, we have to pull someone from patrols to go check it out. It's been the same thing every time: the same section of old books in the back corner. Peeves likes to open them and trip the Detectors."
"Why not just—" He felt suddenly very dizzy and slowly laid down.
Ginny leaned over him looking concerned. "What is it, Harry?" she asked.
"Nothing, I think. Just felt dizzy. I guess I'm not quite back to normal, yet. The room just got a bit hazy for a moment there, and then..." Harry unconsciously rubbed his forehead, then froze suddenly and sat up quickly. His scar was hot. Why didn't he feel it?
"Something's happening," he announced. "It's happening right now."
"Well, it's not happening in this castle," the Auror said. "Take a look for yourself."
He handed Harry the parchment, and on it was a long list of locations written in very small, faded grey script. About one third of the way from the top was a single line in pulsing red ink, which read "Library". No other lines showed any change.
He tried to get out of bed, but a wave of nausea hit him, and he doubled over instinctively. As he tried to recover, the room turned and tilted out of control, and a second later, he felt himself slam into the stone floor.
"What's going on, Harry?" Ginny called out to him.
"Voldemort's furious," Harry choked out. "He's doing... something." As he pulled himself up using the bed stand, he saw the large bottle he'd been drinking from for the past day. "What's in this?" he asked as he brandished the bottle at Dumbledore. Before the Headmaster could say anything, Madam Pomfrey spoke up.
"You've been subjected to some very powerful curses, Mr. Potter," she huffed. "Do you think that I can just charm away all of that pain? That potion takes away whatever I cannot."
Harry stared at the liquid. Was that why he hadn't felt his scar throbbing? How long had it been? What had he missed? He closed his eyes and tried to focus. There must be something he could see. However, instead of seeing anything, he only felt tired. There were no trees or shadows, or dark hallways, only calming blackness. He opened his eyes and regarded the potion suspiciously. "There's nothing else in here?"
Madam Pomfrey looked offended. "Of course there is. You're still mending a number of bones, you lost quite a bit of blood, and I added something to keep you relaxed."
Harry's vision went hazy for a moment as he glared at her. He felt a blaze of heat inside his stomach as he held the bottle. "A Pacifying Potion?" he growled as he regained his balance. Pomfrey nodded indignantly. "I wasn't trying to drug you, Potter. I just wanted you to remain calm."
"Calm?" Harry shouted. "I DON'T NEED TO BE CALM!" he yelled, launching the half-empty bottle at the wall. It shattered into a thousand pieces, creating a cloud of greenish vapor as it splashed onto the floor. Pomfrey simply stared at him, no doubt thinking that destroying innocent potions was not the best argument to prove how much control he had.
Harry didn't care. The Pacifying Potion would have been enough to let him ignore the visions. He tried to close his eyes again, but without any luck. When he opened them, everyone was staring at him expectantly. Closest to him was Ginny, who had an anxious, almost sorrowful look on her face.
"There's nothing," he told her. "I can't see a thing. Something's happening but—" He stopped himself as he saw the look on her face. She had an idea. Without knowing what it was, he simply nodded. "Do it."
Ginny slowly walked to the back of the room, and a moment later, stepped back through the crowd, pushing Ron in front of her. When Ron was standing only a few feet from Harry, she gave him one last apologetic look before pulling the bandages from Ron's head.
In the instant before they fell, Harry knew what to expect. Reality, however, was much more deeply disturbing than anything he could have pictured in his mind. Ron didn't look down, or away, but he didn't seem to really look at Harry either. Etched down the center of his forehead was a single scar, red and swollen as if he'd been cut with a blazing hot knife, and shaped like a lightning bolt.
Harry felt a great surge of emotion welling up inside him. All the anger, pain, frustration, and worry he'd felt for his friends seemed to build up until he thought he'd burst. Just as he thought he couldn't take it anymore, an image flashed into his mind. A long knife. His knife.
He closed his eyes, needing to see more. There was a room, dark, but with shafts of light shining into it. In the center, he saw two figures standing in the shadows, standing by a large heavy table holding an assortment of old books. It was a scene he'd seen many times. The Death Eaters were always searching through books.
When he opened his eyes, the odd feeling he'd had before was still there. Something was wrong. Something was happening right now, but he couldn't see it. What could that mean?
Everyone was staring at him, waiting for him to say something or do something that would give them some clue as to what he'd seen. He paced to the end of the bed, and back, hoping that he might be able to make some sense of what he'd seen. What did the knife have to do with any of it? It was still in his trunk... wasn't it?
As he turned to ask Ron, his foot slipped on a piece of parchment on the floor. When he lifted his foot to look at it, his heart skipped. It felt like he'd just taken a Bludger to the chest.
Harry took a moment to try and collect his senses. He took a deep breath and bent down to pick the parchment up. When he came back up, he found Ron and Ginny giving him quizzical looks. He swallowed and tried to speak as quickly and evenly as he could.
"Do either of you have the Map with you?"
Ron looked uncomfortable for a moment, but Harry gave him an insistent look and he reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of parchment. As everyone watched, Ron tapped it, and called out: "I solemnly swear I'm up to no good."
He scanned the map for a moment, then looked back at Harry. "What exactly am I looking for?" Harry held out the parchment. A third of the way down the parchment, a single line was still brightly pulsing in red ink:
Library
"You're daft," an Auror called out from Harry's right. "That Detector's gone off so many times I'm surprised it still works. If I had a Galleon for every time I've been there to reset that bloomin' thing, I'd be retired and living in the south of France."
Harry ignored him and waited for Ron to find the library on the map. Dumbledore, Arthur and Kingsley had stepped forward to look over Ron's shoulder. As Ron folded out sections of the map, Harry waited impatiently, wishing that he'd find nothing, yet sensing that no matter what he found, Hogwarts was in danger.
"Right, here it is," Ron finally announced. "Er... There aren't any Death Eaters there, Harry. Just Pince and a student." He gave Harry a shrug. Next to him, Ginny's eyes were staring at the map with obvious concern.
"Who is the student?" Harry asked immediately.
"Er... Claire Goldwater?" Ron answered casually, as he flipped through other sections of the Map. "You must remember her. We caught you two chatting outside the library, once. I guess she likes the library, she is a Ravenclaw."
Before Ron had even looked up from the Map, Harry had already passed him and was running for the door of the Hospital Wing. He could hear the sharp sounds of Ginny's shoes running right behind him, and a herd of Aurors in heavy boots running some distance behind him.
How could he have missed it? They all guessed that the Death Eaters were getting into Hogwarts somehow. He'd assumed it was Malfoy or Nott or one of the other Slytherins.
The Auror's words echoed in his head: "It's been going off a few times a week since we set it there..." All of the students gossiped in the library. Celeste Warrenton had just left the library before she'd been attacked. Hermione had gone to return a book when she'd been put under the Imperius Curse. The book Filch had found under his bed had been from a secret section of the Hogwarts library. And in every vision he'd ever had of them, the Death Eaters had always been around books. It was always books. How had he not seen it before?
Harry ran as quickly as he could. He knew his legs and lungs must both be burning with the exertion, but the potion Pomfrey had given him to drink was still dulling all the pain. As he turned the last corner, he saw a body lying across the doorway to the library. He covered the distance in only a few seconds, and stared into the eyes of one of the Aurors, his face frozen in fear and surprise.
"Come in, Mr. Potter!" a voice shouted from inside the room.
Harry gingerly stepped over the body and into the room. He almost immediately recognized the dark room. The afternoon sun streamed through windows and cast dark shadows where the shelved blocked them, giving it the same shafted appearance of his vision. In the center of the room stood Madam Pince. Standing very stiffly in front of her was Claire, with the knife Bill and Charlie had given him held to her throat. Her eyes were red, and it was obvious that she'd been crying for some time.
"Let her go," Harry ordered as he slowly walked toward them. "This isn't about her."
"Of course it's not, and that is why she is here," Pince sneered. "The Dark Lord thought that you might need to be reminded of the consequences of angering him." As she spoke, Ginny ran into the room behind him. She stopped somewhere behind him. The Aurors wouldn't be far behind.
"Let him come here and show me, then," Harry shouted, hoping to distract her. She started to respond, but he focused on summoning the knife, hoping to wrench it from her grasp, and let Claire escape.
With a sudden movement, the knife jerked sideways, etching a scarlet line into Claire's skin as Pince pulled the knife away from Harry. At the sight of Claire's blood, he lost his concentration, and leapt forward.
"Stay back, Potter!" Pince yelled, now holding the knife behind Claire's back. Claire gave a quick yelp, and Harry could only guess that she could feel the point through her robes. For a single tense moment, it seemed as if he'd lost all control of the situation. Aurors poured into the room led by Dumbledore, and Claire arched her back and gave a panicked scream as Pince pulled Claire's shoulders back against her. Upon seeing the rest of the wizards, Pince stopped and gave them a loathsome smile.
"Ahh, Albus, I knew you couldn't be far behind Potter," she said as she backed toward the table behind her. "And you've brought some of your lackeys from your vaunted Order. Oh, and you've even brought Potter's new look-a-like," she sneered at Ron. "But where is the know-it-all Granger? Still recovering, I hope— still lying in a bed weak from the pain and damage Potter inflicted on her."
As Pince talked, Ginny had slipped farther along the wall, and was nearly behind her now, though Harry couldn't see what good that might do.
"I almost hoped she would join us, so I might thank her. My master was quite pleased with me for telling him about her little weakness to the Imperius Curse. I was almost sad when I heard what was to happen to her. She was such a wonderful source of information."
Ginny pulled her wand from her pocket slowly and took a few steps toward the table, but froze when Pince turned to scowl at her. "But Miss Weasley surprised us all. The Dark Lord will not forget that." While she was turned away, Harry took the opportunity to pull out his wand and point it at Pince. Between her and his wand, was a very frightened Claire, who was silently pleading with Harry to help her. When Pince turned back to Harry and the rest of the occupants of the room, she found a dozen wands pointed at her.
"Put away your wands!" she ordered. "Potter's knife! It's terribly sharp, you see," she hissed, "and dipped in the most potent potion the loyal Severus Snape had in his office." Everyone lowered their wands except Harry. He kept his wand up, and took a single step toward her.
Ginny was still inching along behind Pince, though she didn't seem to be paying any attention to her. Instead, she seemed focused on something on the table behind her. Harry tried to see what it was without being noticed. Standing amongst the books and rolls of parchment was a small, shining gold cup: a nearly perfect miniature of the Triwizard Cup. It wasn't the first he'd seen. It was the same thing Bellatrix had used to escape after she'd taken Ginny.
"By all means, Miss Weasley, take it!" Pince shouted without taking her eyes from Harry. "The Dark Lord enjoyed your company so much the last time you visited. I'm certain that he would like very few things more than the chance to meet you again."
"You've got me here now," Harry called out, hoping to turn Pince's attention from Ginny. "Let Claire go."
"Oh, you're here to protect her, now?" Pince laughed. "It's a little late for that, don't you think? Where were you when the Warrenton girl was killed? Doting on the Weasley tramp. Where were you her great-grandfather fell to Rodolphus and Rastaban in Romania? You were practicing to win your precious Quidditch Cup. And where were you when her cousins were crushed in their own house exactly one month ago? I believe you were busy torturing your tart of a girlfriend to within an inch of her life."
Pince paused to tighten her grip on Claire. "And you come here now to protect her," she sneered. "How pointless."
"I won't let you hurt her."
"I will kill her," Pince replied. "My master has commanded it, but it is only my hand which will deliver the blow. It was your lack of cooperation which has caused this to happen, and it will be your failure when it happens."
"Voldemort never wanted me to cooperate," Harry growled at her, still pointing his wand at her face. "He's just hiding like a coward and making you lot do all his work. Dolohov's already in prison. You'll be joining him. If you let her go, maybe the Aurors will let you have books to read. I'll stop every last one of you if that's what it will take to end this."
Pince laughed at his threat. "There is only one way this can end, Potter: the way it was supposed to end two years ago. He summoned you to your death and you ran from him. He's more alive than you are now. You died that night in the graveyard. Your body lives on, but your spirit is withering," she said with disdain. In front of her, Claire was starting to look pale and dizzy, as if she were about to faint. In her current position, that might be deadly.
"Even now, you are consumed by my master's power," Pince continued. "It has surpassed your own. It drove you to turn on those you professed to love, and hurt them beyond anything you could have imagined."
"Put away the knife," Harry ordered, hoping it would not sound like he was pleading with her. "If you hurt her, you'll never leave this room."
"Indeed," Pince replied scornfully. "And what would it matter? She too has already died. She died nine months ago. Her whole family is dead now. Cousins, uncles, grandparents, close friends. All killed, and not a word from the Ministry. Her father died that night, of course. Her mother's soul lives on in a prison of a body that will not let her die. Only the daughter remains, waiting for her turn, and hating her godfather a little more each day."
"You never told her, did you?" Pince whispered. "Never told her who her godfather was? Why it was all happening to her?" Claire's eyes opened slightly at her comments. Pince leaned forward so that her mouth was next to Claire's ear.
"Your family is dead because your godfather defied my master. Your mother was certain that he could protect you, but she was wrong. He couldn't protect you. He couldn't even protect his friends, could he, Potter?"
Claire's eyes opened wide as she stared at Harry. "No..." she said faintly. "Why... Why couldn't you..."
"Because he knew that you were already dead," Pince hissed in her ear. "He's a curse, and like you, everyone around him dies." As Claire stared at Harry, Pince carefully backed up a few steps and turned to look at the table.
A harsh, rage-filled cry filled the room as Pince dragged Claire toward Ginny. "What have you done, foolish girl?" Pince shouted at her as she advanced. "Where is the cup?" she bellowed.
"Let her go!" Ginny ordered.
Pince squeezed Claire's neck, making her whimper. "The Dark Lord will know what you've done," she growled. "He won't kill you, now. You'll live to learn levels of remorse and agony that no one in a hundred years has imagined."
With a shout, she jerked back on Claire's neck, and Harry stood in shock at the sight of the tip of the perfectly crafted knife sticking out of Claire's stomach just below her ribs. She let out a pair of choked gasps for air, before her eyes rolled back into her head and she dropped to the floor.
When he looked up again, Madam Pince already had her wand out and was pointing it directly at Arthur Weasley, who was charging forward to protect Ginny. As Harry took aim with his wand, he could hear her shouting the worst thing imaginable:
"AVADA KA—"
Before she could finish she was struck with a chorus of spells from every other wizard in the room. Even Ron was staring at her limp body with disgust, his wand still pointing at the spot she'd been standing.
Harry jumped over Pince and dropped to the floor next to Ginny, who was already trying to pick Claire up. Dumbledore rushed over to them, and in an instant had gathered her in his arms, with the knife still sticking through her body. A moment later he was gone, striding down the hall much more quickly than Harry could gather the strength to run. Halfway to the Hospital Wing, his legs gave out, and he dropped to the floor. Ginny stopped and knelt beside him. She said nothing, but simply helped him over to the wall, where they sat together in mournful silence.
Together they waited for Harry's strength to return, if it ever would. Large numbers of Aurors had walked through the hallway, and Harry guessed that the large box they'd taken past him had been Pince's body, either dead or heavily imprisoned. It was difficult to tell how much time had passed, but when Dumbledore returned, the Aurors had pretty much deserted the corridor.
"Miss Goldwater is alive," he announced. Harry wanted to feel happy, but Dumbledore's face remained quite grave. "The wound, however, remains, and it will take some time to prepare the antidote once we discover which poison was used. Poppy has promised that she will do whatever she can, and I believe that she has the ability heal Claire."
Harry felt numb. There was no pain, no fatigue, no sadness, and no hope for the future. If Claire survived, it would only be to wait for the next attack, and to hate him for what he'd done. Every muscle in his body felt weak, but he forced himself to stand, and with a little support from Ginny, he walked back to Gryffindor Tower, and fell into a deep sleep.
Author's notes:
So now you know all the secrets. Feel free to run back and look at all the references. I'd be interested in hearing from anyone who honestly thinks they had a clue before the teasers at the end of the last chapter. As far as I'd heard, no one had any idea, and that's the way I wanted it. Mean, I know, but that shouldn't shock any of you anymore.
I'm skipping teasers for the next chapter. There just isn't anything teaser-worthy. Just read it and try to convince yourself that there are only two more chapters left and that its not worth stopping anymore.