Harry immediately began to feel some of the panic that he'd been looking at in Ron's eyes. But Ron wouldn't... he couldn't... ?
"Ron," said Harry shakily, dreading the answer, "what -- exactly did you do?"
Ron shot the knife a look like he had just seen a thirty foot spider then suddenly dropped it as if seeing it in his hand for the very first time. There was nothing Harry knew that scared Ron more than a spider.
Ron then muttered something so quietly that Harry couldn't make a word out.
Harry, starting to feel more anxious over the answer, waved Ron on to try again.
"I killed him," said Ron in a very strangled voice as though that same spider was stuck in his throat. He kicked the knife ten feet down the corridor, streaking the floor with a thin line of blood. "I don't know!" Ron cried, and Harry could see the beginnings of what was going to be a flood of tears any moment as Ron sniffed. Ron was also helplessly shaking both his hands. "He came at me with his -- his fangs out and he chased me down the stairs!" Now Ron was backing up against the wall. "All my spells didn't work -- they just bounced off him! I grabbed a knife from the Dining Hall and stabbed him with it... I didn't wanna become a vampire!" he squealed, sinking against the wall.
It disturbed Harry to see Ron like this; he was holding his hands just above the knees of his robes as if he didn't want to touch them with his bloody hands and taint them, as if the blood would burn a hole right through them.
Harry didn't know what to say and he didn't think "It's all right, Ron," would do any good. He was simply staring at Ron in the same kind of numb disbelief he'd had when Dudley and Lucius Malfoy died. Then he had a sudden idea. He wasn't quite sure if they'd ever get away with it but it was better than standing there and staring.
"No one's going to believe he attacked me," Ron whispered, his voice sounding as though it was going to stop working any minute. "They're just gonna send me straight to Azkaban!"
Worried was not the word for it.
"Come on," said Harry, his mind made up; guilty as he knew he was going to feel, he was going to see what Raides had to say.
He grabbed Ron above the elbow, picked up the bloodied knife, stuck it inside Ron's robes and the pair of them walked limpily all the way back to the top of Lodi Hall where Raides lay. Before even grabbing Raides, Harry wiped the knife clean with a bit of water from his wand. Raides' first suggestion was --
"A Memory Charm," she said, staring calmly at the disturbing image of Ron who was now shaking with fright -- nor did he seem to notice anything that Raides and Harry were doing.
There was only one reason Harry could think of why he wasn't acting exactly like Ron was: he'd been through enough all year so far to seemingly make his body forget what real shock felt like. The thought didn't make him feel any better... but he had his head which was more than he could say for Ron.
"Look at him, Harry," said Raides, "do you honestly think you shouldn't? Look, what if this whole thing blows over?"
"BLOWS OVER?" Harry bellowed. "Are you mad? Blows over? How the hell is it going to blow over?"
"Look, he killed a vampire," said Raides and Harry was horrified to note that she was acting so calm it was like Ron had simply just fed Crookshanks, "and last time I checked, vampires weren't held in such high regards. Ron's wrong; they'll believe a full human -- especially a pureblood wizard -- before they believe a part-human, a vampire," she commented as though this settled the matter.
Harry thought it over for a minute. And thought it over, and thought it over, and thought it over... all the while staring sharply at Raides, the guilt still rising. She hadn't been wrong before, had she? he asked himself, the guilt becoming unbearable.
Plaque in hand, Harry asked, "And if it doesn't?"
"Well you don't have any other choice, do you?" she said in a bossy tone that made Harry almost not want to do it, but she was quite right, he certainly didn't want to leave Ron like this.
He knew well how it felt, felt to be terrified beyond your wits...
"Obliviate!" Harry shouted, pointing Raides at Ron, not really knowing how a Memory Charm works.
A blast of light issued from the end of the crystal and a dreamy look came over Ron's face as his eyes slid out of focus.
"Ugh, what am I doing with this red stuff on my sleeves?" said Ron placidly. "Ablutum!" he shouted, which cleaned the -- Ron seemed to have no idea what it really was -- blood off his robes.
Harry thought it best to forget the whole experience. So Ron had been attacked by a blood-thirsty vampire? So he had killed Liam? He decided to let Ron go back downstairs, not even go to search for Liam's body, hoping to wake up the next morning and look shocked to hear that Liam had been found dead. He had gone to bed that night, his Order of Merlin plaque still in his hand (which did nothing), shaking slightly for a good hour before drifting off into the usual dream again except this time Voldemort had fangs. At least no one was around to hear him scream when he woke up...
It was about dinner time, Harry found out, when he had woken up the next morning. Not believing he could have slept so long, the first thing he did when Ron woke him up and told him what time it was was to check his own golden wristwatch. Indeed, it was six in the afternoon.
Something struck him as distinctly odd about Ron's appearance though he couldn't quite point it out and Ron also seemed to know exactly where Harry was, as though the Invisibility Charm Harry had been wearing day and night wasn't there. Looking at his hands, it looked as though it hadn't left. Hermione, clever as she was, probably researched something at the library.
The same as it was with Ron, something distinctly odd also struck Harry about Hermione though he also couldn't quite point it out. It was subtle, but it was there. But they were talking to him again, and their bad moods seemed to have burned out while he'd been sleeping; they did look happier than they had the previous day. In fact, they act like nothing bad ever happened between them.
Through dinner, Harry nervously avoided discussing the previous night's events with Hermione or doing anything to trigger a break in the Memory Charm he put on Ron. Though he probably shouldn't worry, he said to himself quickly, he didn't think even Dumbledore would be able to break an ancient Memory Charm, if he hadn't damaged Ron's memory completely...
He followed Ron towards the Bayonne Complex, hoping to get a chance, if at all possible, to remove the Invisibility Charm and challenge Ron or Hermione. The strange but familiar feeling that he was being watched was upon him the entire time. He also felt like he was being moved around, which was strange, since he was moving himself, but that feeling stopped when they arrived at their destination. It was creepy, as if an invisible hand was pushing him.
Any hope of taking up a sword for himself wasn't going to happen because today was the day of the finals: the Graduate students were going to challenge the best of the Hogwarts students. That list included a very put-out looking Hermione.
Nothing was wrong, thought Harry, until the unthinkable happened.
The Graduate student, whom Harry had seen before and thought of as very good natured, now took a dangerous swipe at Hermione's head. Harry turned away right before it happened but the strangled gulp Hermione had made before her head and body were separated filled him with a fresh bottle of nausea. Many pairs of arms and legs flew past him and as he made a mad dash to get out. Next thing he knew, there was a large sword sticking out his chest and a large amount of pain coming from his forehead. There was a flash of green light and Harry was out cold.
When he awoke, the scene wasn't much more pleasing. His head was spinning. Hermione, Ron, dead... or were they? He didn't have much time to think about it except for the fact that he'd had a similar experience.
When Harry turned his head to see where he was, there was another dead body next to him, that of someone he'd miss much more than Lucius or Dudley. He knew this right away; the sight of it brought a swoop of bone-freezing chills to his spine.
The red hair, the thin appearance, a dusty, travel-worn green cloak and cracked glasses, a slightly surprised look to his face. It was Arthur Weasley.
Harry now instantly knew that Ron, Hermione or anyone else hadn't died, that the dream was entirely artificial and that he hadn't woken up since last night. And all he knew besides was that with the panic rising in him so fast, within seconds, he was on his feet and tearing away like a mad cheetah from the crime scene. He supposed he should go tell Ron before anyone else saw first -- but Ron would believe he hadn't done it, right? He didn't know what else to do so that was what he was going to do.
The reality hadn't exactly set in yet and it was perhaps this that let him find Ron without first losing his head. Using the Gate wasn't an option, they made a popping noise when you entered. Harry headed straight for Lodi Hall the hard way from the building he recognized he was in, North Palisades Tower. Arriving at Lodi Hall, Ron was happily chatting with Hermione and Ginny in the common room, completely unaware that his father was...
"Ron," whispered Harry urgently, prodding him hard in the back.
Ron acted like he hadn't heard him or felt Harry's finger. Harry couldn't possibly take no for an answer. He poked Ron harder while Ron tried to make it look like his back had itched and he had a sudden urge to scratch it. This time Harry punched Ron in the back and Ron fell forward off the pouf he'd been sitting on.
"Are -- are you all right, Ron?" Ginny asked curiously while Hermione's face worked into a subtle sort of grimace. She probably knew what was going on.
At the moment when Harry was about to grab Ron's arm and drag him out of the room, Professor McGonagall appeared at the door. She was wearing such a grave expression that there was only one thing she could have been about to say and Harry's heart sunk horribly. Professor McGonagall casted the room a dark look, her face so grave indeed that a few people stopped talking to one another to stare at her, perplexed. Then she turned to look at Ron and Ginny, now wearing an expression not unlike Professor Trelawney's, the one for which she was famous for giving Harry.
Clasping a hand to her chest, she said weakly, "Mr. Weasley, Miss Weasley -- and perhaps you, too, Miss Granger," she added, seeing Hermione's eyes follow Ron and Ginny as they stood up, "please, follow me. I don't know if it's good or bad that Potter isn't here," she whispered silenty to herself, "he's going to have a heart attack when he finds out..."
Curious but feeling the lingering fear that Professor McGonagall was giving off, Ron, Hermione and Ginny swept silently after Professor McGonagall, Harry invisibly at their heels.
When they had arrived at North Palisades Tower, Arthur Weasley's body, unmarked and untouched, had not moved. Ron had broken down into tears along with Hermione (who had also clasped a hand to her mouth) while Ginny's grief seemed to be beyond physical expression.
"Dad," she said in between sobs, bending down and putting a hand on his balding, red hair, "dad, you're not really dead, are you?"
Hermione didn't seem to be able to say anything but her mouth was open in a sort of silent wail.
"Molly has already been notified," Professor McGonagall told them. "I'm leaving it entirely up to her as to what she -- but if you need to see her, she is currently in the Torr Lounge Grand Dining Hall."
Perhaps Professor McGonagall found she couldn't say anymore but she swept silently away and Harry distinctly heard her blow her nose.
Ignoring the presence of Ginny, Harry said, "I was trying to tell you." This was not a problem; either Ginny hadn't noticed Harry's voice or she simply didn't care.
"Dad," breathed Ron faintly.
Harry certainly couldn't bring himself to tell Ron what had happened last night. Only if I really have to, he told himself, hoping this was the right thing to do, only if I have to... But he would certainly have to say what he'd seen when he woke up...
"Ron, there's something else I have to tell you."
"H -- Harry?" said Ginny, not moving anything but her eyes.
Plainly hoping that they weren't going to run into anyone, Harry removed the Invisibility Charm, not taking much notice that he did it with his wand, not Raides. Ginny, as if on instinct, threw herself right at Harry, who, awkwardly, put his arms around her. Hermione did the same for Ron, who wasn't moving.
"Harry, what is it?" Hermione asked, looking extremely anxious over the answer.
"I had one of those strange dreams again," Harry replied, his chin resting on top of Ginny's head, who was silently sobbing into his shoulder. But he felt Ginny stiffen and Ron and Hermione were both staring at him.
Ginny let go at once.
"Strange what?"
"Remember? When I had the Mark of Ancients? All those strange dreams? And that first summer? All the stuff I'd see in plain day while awake?"
"Dream," said Hermione shaking quite a bit more now, "what dream?"
The reality of it starting to set in, Harry backed himself up against a blue, stone wall and sat down against it.
"I followed you to the Bayonne Complex to finish those stupid duels. Then, while it was happening, this Graduate student had just -- just --"
"Just what?"
"Just took off all your heads. I don't know, what d'you want me to say?" he added, noting the looks on their faces and feeling the beginning of his own --
"Well I don't get it! What is this?" Ron bellowed furiously.
"Quiet, Ron, someone will see Harry!" Hermione hissed.
Harry was at least glad that Ginny wasn't asking questions concerning that matter.
"Is -- is someone trying to frame you, maybe?" asked Ginny curiously.
"Frame me? By making me go nuts? I dunno, maybe?" Harry replied miserably. "They're having a good go at it. Someone wants to send me to Azkaban..." he said matter-of-factly.
"Why would someone want to put you in Azkaban?" Ron asked curiously.
Harry fixed with him a furious stare.
"I dunno," Harry began in a curious voice of his own, "maybe they just want to -- to kill me?" he finished melodramatically. "All that's going to happen when they throw me in a cell is I'm going to hear my parents screaming, pass out and never wake up. I'll die of starvation in my sleep," he said furiously.
Harry pulled his knees up to himself and buried his face in them after looking desperately at Hermione.
"Who could be doing it?" asked Hermione as Ron immediately rounded on her.
"That's a stupid question, isn't it? Let's think. Who do we know who's wanted Harry dead since age one?"
"You-Know-Who!" said Ginny triumphantly.
"Oh just say Lord Voldemort," Ron snapped and Ginny flinched at the name.
There was a terrible kind of battle going on inside Harry's head. He knew, very well, that he was having the same sort of dreams he'd had two years ago. At the same time -- and this was the question that had been bugging him since the beginning --
"A better question is -- how?" asked Ron, one hand on his side, the other clutching his furrowed brow. "How's he doing it!" he said frantically.
"I don't know," Harry choked out, his voice trembling as much as his fingers, "but someone better find out before the next one to die is me."
Ron, Hermione and Ginny apparently hadn't been thinking about that and at once, they all bit their lip. They all seemed to forget about Mr. Weasley in light of Harry's troubles, as though they were going to find a way to bring him back to life. But they all knew how unreasonable and pointless that was. Harry had been fearing death for several years now and now with it so close to him, he could almost taste it -- and it was the worst thing he'd ever tasted, worse than an ice cream cone that had been slobbered over by Dudley first.
It wasn't until the next day that the rumors began to spread.
"I don't see how, really..."
"But, he's at Hogwarts, isn't he? I mean..."
"Everyone from Sagtikos is saying he's just as much a Dark wizard as You-Know-Who. I'm telling you, it's the staff."
Whispers had been following Harry ever since he'd Disapparated back to Hayden's. Having had spent the rest of yesterday locked up in Gryffindor Tower, half expecting Voldemort to come, invisible, bursting into either school and stab him with a knife, he didn't expect this nor was it very welcome. He hung his head low, his eyes darting from whisper to whisper as though they could see him and were giving him looks of deepest loathing. Most of the voices were people he didn't recognize, people from Hayden's. Harry figured that everyone from Hogwarts had gotten tired of talking about him in the corridors...
"He lent the Weasley kids money to come here and then he gets a letter from the Minister of Magic saying he can't come. He demanded the Weasley's pay him back --"
"Isn't he usually so nice, though?"
"-- and he's cracked, I'd say, finally. They haven't payed him back. Come on, didn't you hear about those loads of creatures that were found dead by the Whitewonder Tower Fire Turret? Who else could have killed that many creatures? No one but a really powerful, really Dark wizard," concluded a really tall student wearing black robes and a white cloak who looked as though he, himself, wanted a chance with a manticore.
By nightfall, it didn't seem like anyone had any doubts that Harry had killed someone yet again -- except for a few people in Lodi Hall and, thankfully, everyone in Gryffindor.
The Weasleys all decided they ought to hold a service for Mr. Weasley. There was lots of hugging and crying, the crying done by Ginny and the hugging done by Hermione. Percy Weasley was looking livid, as though, to Harry's horror, he would personally kill Harry if he saw him. Even Ron's oldest brothers, Bill and Charlie, were avoiding him.
"Percy's upset -- though he doesn't look it sometimes," Ron explained to Harry as they were standing next to each other, Mrs. Weasley laying flowers on the ground which were drooping sadly, too. "He's losing it over dad. Hermione, Ginny and I have been trying to convince him you wouldn't lay a finger on dad but," Ron went on, looking extremely uneasy over his brother, "he -- just -- doesn't want to believe us. I dunno, Percy's been getting deeper into work. He's been sending owls ever since we got here, telling us how bad things are at the office and now, with dad... he's just going to have a ton more work."
"I wouldn't go near him, Harry, if I were you," Hermione advised.
Harry always knew Percy to be very into his work but never though he lacked the sense to see something that was plainly obvious, Harry thought -- that he'd never kill someone!
Ginny sniffed behind Harry. He half wanted to make himself visible again; Ginny's warmth was slightly comforting last night. Although it wasn't Cho, it was something. His attitude toward Ginny had seemingly changed overnight. Perhaps it was sorrow?
Percy hadn't said a single word the entire time, his glasses askew in anger and his brand-new maroon robes not straight. With a forced -- and it was hard to tell it was forced because it looked very convincing -- comforting look at his sister and five brothers and a pop, he Disapparated and to where, Harry couldn't give three fake wands in a tea cozy.
Ron and Hermione had explained the entire situation with Harry being in New York to Ginny though they failed to mention the ancient forbidden spell that Harry had used to make sure he wouldn't get caught. This lack of information led to odd questions but they assured Ginny that Harry "has it covered." On top of that, not only did people believe Harry to have killed Mr. Weasley but they were also certain that he was creeping around the halls of Hayden's unseen, so sure, in fact, that people were calling his name, expecting him to answer.
To Harry's relief, there was no big deal made about Liam's death. He and Raides had supposed that the school wanted it hushed up that a vampire had been killed. No one seemed to care, let alone notice. Not being from a wizarding family, Harry supposed this was his ignorance showing but it still struck him as odd. Word got around the school that someone else besides Mr. Weasley had died that same day. Harry, already too happy to hear that no one was making a big deal out of it, didn't care to confirm it was Liam. It had to be. If it was anyone else, there would be an uproar. But it was confirmed anyway with a notice posted in each of the five Halls. Harry only read the first sentence before feeling sick and turning away.
We all mourn the loss of a fellow student, Liam Lamia of Sagtikos.
The trip to Laurence Patrick Hayden's Manhattan School of Wizardry ended on a somber note, one day before it was supposed to. Everyone was blaming Harry for this but Harry didn't care, he was even glad of it. While people were muttering darkly about him, everyone was feeling sorry for Ron and Ginny, both of whom seemed to have their grief set in full effect. Ginny had gone off eating like Harry had done so many times ("Eat something," wheedled Hermione, "Ginny, please") and Ron had stopped talking to most everyone, including Hermione.
Dinner the night before they were to leave was a quiet event. Hermione having had lost the last duel in under thirty seconds -- and Harry couldn't blame her -- there was no big deal made of that either. All students were to have breakfast the next morning in the Torr Lounge Grand Dining Hall then all Hogwarts students would take the Gate back to the castle. No one was talking very much. Mr. Weasley's death seemed to have struck a chord with everyone, Hogwarts student or not... Although Harry had a strong suspicion it was more because they feared Harry would kill them next rather than them feeling sorry for the Weasleys.
This time, Harry lay awake for hours, staring at the ceiling of the top of the Lodi Hall Dormitory. Hermione had been letting Harry in ever since that night. It didn't look as though Ron would be doing much of anything since then. Sitting alone in the corner of the dormitory evening after evening with Ginny, Harry, for a few moments, felt his own troubles ebb away in his sorrow for them. But this didn't last long, perhaps no more than hour's worth of staring fixed, clutching the bed sheets, a ringing silence in his ears.
Turning over, Harry almost wished the dream had been real. In that case, he'd at least not be worrying over the Mark of Ancients... which I shouldn't have to be! Harry thought furiously. It's over, it's gone, it's never coming back. But then, why is it still -- still (he didn't want to use the word haunting, that made it sound like he was really in trouble)...
He didn't think he'd ever sleep that night, his ears working extra hard to pick up every rustle of the wind outside, every breath from Raides, every time her scarlet tail moved across the carpeted floor. And when he went to turn over to stare at his night table instead, it seemed so loud that it would wake someone up and they would find him lying there.
His eyes had fallen on something that he'd been holding onto more of in the past few days than the image of being in Godric's Hollow, perfectly safe, with two people. Golden, glittering and guilt-inspiring, it was the Order of Merlin plaque. Dumbledore's words came floating out of the back of his head.
"Whenever you are feeling down, Harry, I want you to hold it, tight, so that you never have to feel down again. It would be great if everyone had one, wouldn't it? Wouldn't it be great if everyone had something to call their own Order of Merlin necklace?"
A hand half way between the edge of the bed and the night table, Harry hesitated as the image of Hermione's beaming face swam before him on the night Cornelius Fudge had called his name out to get the necklace. Without even holding it, he felt the guilt slowly swelling inside him like a balloon. Pulling his hand back after snatching it, twirling it between his slightly trembling fingers, there was no calming sensation, nothing to make him feel any less anxiety, nothing to help him go to sleep when he so very much wanted to.
There didn't seem to be any alternative. The thing that did make him fall asleep was a spell casted on him with Raides in his hand. The Staff of Cybele falling to the floor as a great golden and scarlet lion, Harry lay sprawled on the bed, one hand dangling off the edge, in a deep state of worry, not sleep.