Chapter Twenty One- Abduction

Harry couldn't help wondering why everything seemed easier there, even as the danger in that world was so much more in view.

A couple of weeks later found Harry in the odd position of both despising and enjoying his life. Between the constant stares and negative attitudes of his classmates that had yet to abate, and the damned annoyance of his connection with Voldemort, Harry sometimes wished nothing more than to escape. His training area in the Forest had become his refuge at those moments. It hadn't happened more than twice, but after the Dark Lord pulled Harry into his mind again, he'd destroyed the clearing near as bad as after his altercation with Malfoy and Snape.

For the Potions master's part, he'd taken to ignoring Harry's presence in class. He never asked questions of him, which was easier for Harry, as he didn't have to conceal what he knew. But at moments when Harry was brewing, (pretending mild incompetence), he'd sense the professor scrutinizing him, and he knew that Snape would demand answers eventually.

As tired as he was of some of the results of his return, the situation was made better by others. He had no trouble in class, just the opposite rather, and found them quite useful as a time for concentrating within his mind on improving his mental abilities. Harry was determined to learn all he could of the Mental Arts, knowing that Riddle would press every advantage. Thus far, he'd managed to pretend to focus on the classwork, and his teachers were none the wiser.

"Harry. Harry. Mr Potter!"

Harry belatedly glanced up. "Yes, sir?"

"I know that the textbook is intriguing," Lupin stated, his brow raised, "but if you would join the discussion?"

Glancing down, Harry saw his open book before him, then he smiled sheepishly at Remus. "Sorry, Professor."

"Yes, well," Remus said, shaking his head, though his eyes shined with the faintest hint of amusement. "Please stay with us, or I'll be forced to take points."

Harry nodded, catching his godfather's eye behind Lupin. Sirius mouthed the word 'tyrant', gesturing toward Remus, and Harry glanced back down to hide a smirk.

Remus turned around to face his partner, who'd cleared his own expression. "Professor Black, is something wrong?"

"No, of course not," Sirius assured him. "Where were you? Um, nauseous petals?"

The class snickered, as Remus blinked, then scowled. "Poisoned nettles."

"Ah, yes." Sirius swung to face the class. "What do we know about these?"

Hermione was the first to raise her hand, to no one's surprise. Remus smiled, but glanced around the class in an effort to find someone else. Deciding to appease him, Harry raised his hand, inwardly smirking at the professor's slightly startled expression. Collecting himself and smiling wider, Remus gestured for him to speak. Hermione looked disappointed.

"Nettles are a rare breed of plant found in wetlands. The stem contains a very strong poison, but if diluted, it can be used as a tranquillizer."

"Excellent, five points to Gryffindor," Sirius stated.

Remus nodded. "Yes, now, why is it important to know about these types of things in Defence?"

A Ravenclaw Harry barely knew raised his hand. "Because we might need it in a fight?"

"Exactly," Remus confirmed. "All right, class is just about over, for next week, I want an essay on five different plants that can be found in the wild and used as a defence. Include ways to distinguish them quickly and in different conditions. Dismissed."

Picking up his bag, Harry placed his book inside and flung it over his shoulder. Just as he was about to wave goodbye to Sirius and Remus, his godfather caught his eye and called him over. As the classroom emptied, Harry made his way to them, avoiding the chairs that the students forgot to push in.

"Hello, Professors," Harry said with a grin as he stopped by the front desk.

"Hello, Harry." Remus watched the last student leave the room, then turned to face him with a attentive look. "Is everything all right?"

Glancing over at Sirius, Harry saw that his godfather wore a concerned expression to match Remus'. "Yeah, everything's fine. Why?"

"I've noticed that you've been a little, well, distracted in class," Remus admitted, looking at him closely. "I can sense when someone's not entirely there. One of the perks of lycanthropy."

Harry winced slightly. "Sorry, Remus, Sirius, I've just been trying to get back into everything, you know."

"Yeah, of course," Sirius said quickly. "But if something's wrong, you'll tell me, or Remus, right?"

"Don't worry," Harry answered, wearing a smile. "I'd tell you."

Sirius grinned. "Great."

"Well, we'll let you go, Harry," Remus said. "You probably have some studying to do."

"Thanks to you two," responded Harry with mock annoyance.

"It's what we're here for," Sirius announced, clapping Harry on the shoulder. "Well, go, get to it!"

Waving farewell, Harry walked out of the room, still smiling. As he stepped into the hall, he caught sight of Hermione leaning against the wall next to the door. Seeing him, she grinned and pushed away from the stones.

"Hey, Harry," she greeted, shrugging her school-bag to a less painful place on her shoulder.

"Hello, Hermione," Harry said, eyeing the bag that was easily twice the size of his. "What's going on?"

"I waited to see if you wanted to come study in the library," she answered.

Harry nodded with a smile, then grabbed the bag off her shoulder and swung it on his, gesturing for her to walk beside him. "How did you shrug off Ron, again?"

"I told him I wanted to study," Hermione stated, and Harry smirked. "Well, he also had Quidditch practice."

"He's still not exactly happy with me," Harry said. "You might want to be careful."

Hermione scowled. "I'm dating him, he doesn't own me. If he doesn't like my being with a friend, too bad. Besides, he'll straighten up eventually. He can't stay upset with you forever."

Harry glanced at her, then at the view through the windows they passed. The sun made him narrow his eyes. "Maybe, maybe not. If he gets over it, it'll have to be his choice."

"Ron's angry that you won't, uh, can't, tell us anything more about where you went," Hermione explained. "We thought you were dead for two years, Harry. It was a bad time. He'll realize that at least you're back, and come around."

Nodding, Harry shifted the bags on his shoulder and continued alongside Hermione, matching her pace. Reaching the library, they went inside and claimed a table in a quiet area away from Madam Pince's desk. As they pulled the books from their bags, Harry shook his head and grinned at the sheer amount of extra volumes Hermione had.

"Do you really need all of those?" he asked, opening his NEWT Defence book.

"Of course," Hermione stated adamantly.

Smiling, Harry let it go, and settled in to read over the material. He knew all of it, but forced himself to concentrate anyway. He would need to know the usual wording used in the book when he wrote his essay, at any rate. Several minutes passed as the two Gryffindors read in silence.

Suddenly, Hermione noisily flipped back a page in her book. Looking up, Harry noticed her furrowed brow and leaned over slightly to see what had her confused. The page was written in absurdly small print, but Harry made out enough to recognize that it was about runes.

"Something wrong?" Harry asked quietly.

Startled, Hermione glanced up at him. "Hm? Oh, no, not really." She frowned. "I'm just not sure of this passage."

"What is it?" Harry questioned. At her doubtful look, he chuckled. "Ancient Runes, right? Try me, I've learned a bit about them."

"All right," Hermione agreed, though she still didn't seem to think he could help. "It says here that Runes can be used offensively, but it doesn't say how. I haven't heard of that before, and it doesn't say anything more about it. I know they're used for defence, wards and all of that, but not offense."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, but it takes a while and isn't good to use in a battle or anything."

Hermione blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Well," he said, "they can be used to force people to do what you wish. If you wanted someone to do something, you apply the necessary rune or runes onto them, and it bonds with their magic, making them do what is needed."

"Like mind control or something?" Hermione asked, wide-eyed. "I thought you needed a curse for that."

"Mind control, yes, you do," Harry told her. "Runes bond with a person's magical core, rendering it unable to do anything but what they force it to do."

Hermione grabbed a quill and wrote furiously on her parchment. "How do you 'apply' runes on to someone?"

"Render it physically, like a tattoo or brand, upon the victim's skin," Harry said. "Then you force it to seek out the person's magic. It won't work if the magic level is too low, like a Muggle, and it takes quite a while to make it work. Usually, it takes the person it's applied on to be willing. That's why it's not used very much. And also why it's not illegal."

"Amazing," Hermione murmured, finishing her scribbling. "You learned about that? I wonder if there's anything here in the library about it. Be right back, I need to ask Madam Pince."

Hermione was gone before Harry could answer.

A while later, with Hermione still conspicuously absent, Harry was startled by the arrival of an owl that swooped and landed on his table. Worried about the librarian's reaction, he scanned the area around him. When an angry Pince failed to appear, Harry turned back to the owl. It reached out its leg, and Harry removed the letter quickly, as it hooted in impatience. As soon as he had the parchment free, the bird sped away.

"What in the world?" Hermione asked, just as she returned and saw the owl flying out the open window down the aisle. "That's odd. Who's sending you something at this time of day?"

Harry glanced up and shrugged. Hermione sat down, dropping several old texts upon the table, sending a flood of dust blasting off of them and over the two students. Coughing, Harry pushed back from the table.

Waving her wand, Hermione dispelled the dust swiftly. "S-sorry," she choked, then she cleared her throat and smiled apologetically.

"Where did you find those? Myrddin," Harry exclaimed, leaning forward and studying the dull spines of the books.

"Bottom shelves in the far corner of the library," Hermione said, as she pushed her hair away from her face and put away her wand. "Anyway, what about your letter?"

"Oh yeah," Harry murmured, unrolling and reading it quickly as Hermione began sorting her books. "Strange."

"What?" asked Hermione, stopping her arranging.

Harry read aloud, "'Potter. Make your way to the Staff Lounge immediately.' Then there are directions and it's signed by Snape."

"Snape? Why would he send for you now?"

"He's in charge for the day," Harry answered in a distracted tone, stuffing his text back in his bag. "Both Dumbledore and McGonagall were called to the Ministry."

Hermione blinked, then frowned. "How do you know that?"

Harry glanced up at her. "Oh, I overheard Sirius mention it." Or, rather, heard in that Dumbledore had told him, but Harry wasn't about to say that. "Well, I better go before Snape gets any more upset than usual. See you later."

She waved briefly, already turning back to her books. Harry smiled, walking out of the library and placing the missive in a pocket, his mind working to figure out what he was wanted for. He couldn't imagine for what reason he was made to go to the faculty's lounge. Shaking his head, he increased his pace.

Nearing the Lounge's ajar door at the end of a long corridor, he distinguished voices within and slowed to listen. When he recognized the Minister of Magic's dry speech along with Snape's, Harry faltered in his step for a moment. He suddenly had a bad feeling about the situation, though besides his old personal dislike of Cornelius Fudge, he wasn't sure why that was.

"Minister, if I may ask," Snape's smooth tones were lowered to a displeased level, undermining the humble words. "Why could we not have conducted this little meeting in the Headmaster's office?"

"Why, Professor Snape, this is much more comfortable," Fudge answered, his voice as stony as the other wizard's. "No portraits blathering, and all of that. Don't you agree?"

"Of course, Minister Fudge."

Harry knocked lightly, then pushed the door open as he stepped in. The Minister was seated opposite a small table from Snape, and Harry could see their irritation in their tense postures. It was almost humorous, though Harry wisely kept a smirk off his face.

"Ah, Harry, how good to see you again!" Fudge exclaimed, rising and coming around the table. Something about the tone set Harry on edge. "So good of you to make it."

"Thank you, Minister," Harry said calmly, his expression betraying none of his discontent.

Snape came near to Harry, his hard gaze on the Minister. "Mr Potter, the Minister has kindly asked to speak with you. Apparently, it was too pressing to wait until the headmaster could return." He turned his black eyes to Harry. "Conduct yourself accordingly."

Harry nodded. "Of course, Professor. What was it you wished, Minister?"

"Only a word, Harry," Fudge declared with a pompous wave of the hand. "Only a word."

Harry gave a smile that he forced to look polite. "Certainly."

"Excellent." Fudge turned toward Snape with a darker look. "It if would be all right with the good professor, I would prefer to speak to Harry in private."

"I am afraid that it is against the rules for students to meet with non-faculty without a member of said staff in attendance," Snape informed the Minister curtly. "As I was left in charge of the school, I am bound to enforce that stipulation."

"Oh, come now, Professor," Fudge replied haughtily. "There is no need of that with me. As the Minister of Magic, I am well in my right to request this. As the headmaster is not here to say otherwise, I'm afraid my authority is quite above yours. If you would?" With a gesture, Fudge indicated the door.

With a last glance towards Harry, Snape nodded brusquely and turned on his heel, striding swiftly from the room. His entire demeanor, down to the sharp flare of his robes, demonstrated his ire at being overridden. Harry sensed that Snape also thought the whole thing as suspicious as he did.

Surreptitiously, Harry fingered the wand at his waist, even as he seemed to be straightening the lining of his uniform. For a moment, he watched the Minister walk over and check the door. Seemingly satisfied, Fudge turned back toward him and moved closer. On guard now, Harry kept his expression blank as he drew his wand slightly, keeping it under his robes.

"Well, Mr Potter, it has been hard to gain an audience with you," Fudge stated, stopping an arm's length away. "For some reason, Dumbledore has been most uncooperative in that issue. Do you know why that could be?"

As this was the first he'd heard of it, Harry was honest when he said, "No, I don't, Minister." He could guess the reason, but he knew that Fudge wasn't really looking for an answer. "What did you need, sir?"

Instead of answering, Fudge narrowed his eyes and with a surprisingly quick movement, lashed out and grabbed the collar of Harry's robe. Harry yanked out his wand, a curse at his lips, when suddenly he felt something wind around his neck and squeeze.

The attack was too swift for Harry to cast his spell, so he responded physically, latching on to and twisting Fudge's arms away. Pushing the older man back, Harry kicked out, his foot hitting Fudge's stomach. The Minister jerked back with a forced exhale of breath and clutched his abdomen, wheezing.

The distance from Fudge didn't stop the thing strangling him, and Harry fell to his knees as blackness crept into his vision. Reaching to his neck, he felt nothing restricting his breathing, but the choking continued. The lack of air made thinking difficult, but Harry focussed inwardly, and using a burst of power, shot it at the unseen force.

As it hit, Harry only had a moment to realize it was the wrong thing to do, as instead of removing the thing hurting him, his own power was sent around it and lashed back into him. Unable to yell at the pain, Harry finally slipped into darkness and onto the floor.

With an arrogant smile, the Minister of Magic grasped one of the unconscious Harry's arms, reached into his own robe, and pulled out a Muggle pencil. With a word, he and his captive were sent out of Hogwarts, Harry's wand slipping from his fingers and clattering to the ground of the Faculty Lounge in their wake.