And also, it's the penultimate one. There is one more chapter, which will be posted tomorrow, and then CooDM is done. The fourth book, Freedom and Not Peace, the AU version of GoF, will start a few days later, definitely before the New Year.
Chapter Forty-Four: A Voice in the Darkness"Are you certain?" Connor's eyes were wide, and the hand he clenched on the edge of the bed shook slightly. "He managed to arrange everything in our lives so far. I don't think that he would just back down and give in because we go to him with a plan."
"I know," said Harry. He swung his legs out of bed and gingerly tested how well he could stand. Fine, as it turned out, as long as he stretched out a few cramps before he tried to walk. The journey outside with Narcissa last night had been a test of his strength, and his mind still retained the purified feeling, which did him more good than any amount of bodily rest. "But I'm going to offer him some poisoned bait that he won't be able to resist taking."
Connor shuddered. "You frighten me when you talk like a Slytherin." But he stood up and followed Harry towards the door of the hospital wing.
"Sometimes I frighten myself," Harry admitted. He paused at the door and smiled at his brother. "Ready to go see Dumbledore?"
"You were planning to stop by the dungeons on your way, I suppose, Harry?" a voice asked from behind him.
Startled, Harry turned, and then had to brace himself on the wall. He lifted his chin. "Professor Snape, sir. I thought that you were at dinner."
"I knew about the promise that you made Mr. Malfoy, Harry." Snape's face was utterly devoid of amusement. "Not to go anywhere without me or him."
"I was going with Connor—" Harry began.
Snape's eyes pierced him. Harry lowered his head, and felt his cheeks flush. He had already broken the promise last night when he left with Narcissa, and not thought much about it, in truth. He had known he was perfectly safe with Narcissa, and why should Draco or Snape object when his companion was his brother?
He couldn't lie to himself for very long about that, though. Snape wasn't objecting because Harry was with Connor. He would object to Harry going to see the Headmaster without him or Draco at his side, though.
"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I—I did think you were at dinner."
"If I was, then the Headmaster was likely to be at dinner also," Snape reminded him. "I am certain that he has just now returned to his office, in fact." He cocked his head to the side. Harry saw his eyes flicker over Connor with easy contempt. That bothered him. Snape will have to get used to thinking of my brother as a probable Boy-Who-Lived, soon. I'll need his help to train him. "The Headmaster and I argued when last I saw him. I will not entrust your safety to him."
Harry let out his breath. Well, if he insists on coming along, the least he could do is be a guardian to both of us.
"Very well, sir," he said. "I am grateful that you want to keep both me and Connor safe."
Snape frowned at him.
Harry ignored him. Sooner or later, Snape would learn that Harry came along with his brother, and it was no use trying to separate them. Harry glanced back at Connor, and did his best to coax back the brave smile that Snape's presence seemed to have banished.
"Ready, Connor?" he asked.
Connor nodded slowly. "I think so. As ready as I can be."
"Which isn't very," Snape said, just loudly enough that Harry heard him.
Harry put his head up, but kept an eye on Snape as he marched out of the room. If he loves me, then he won't care when I ask small things of him. And one of those small things will be to stop disparaging Connor's intelligence. Honestly, he's a grown man, a professor, a former Death Eater who's seen far more of the world than Connor has. Isn't it about time for him to get over his grudges?
Albus started when the knock came on the office door. He had been expecting it, of course, ever since Severus had swept into the school holding Harry in his arms, with Connor limping behind him, and a terrible expression on his face. In fact, he had felt the magical auras of the wizards in question as they rode up his moving staircase. But nothing could quite prepare him for this confrontation, it seemed.
He dashed a hand over his beard and sighed. "Come in." It was no use trying to look like the picture of grandfatherly wisdom with these three. Connor was the only one who might believe the pretense, and his brother and Severus would disabuse him of the notion soon enough.
The door opened. Severus came first, his eyes and stride both sharp. He didn't bother with anything but a cold scowl. Albus accepted that, was resigned to it by now. Since their argument over Sirius the night he died, he had known that any claim he might have had on the younger wizard's loyalty was forever and irrevocably gone.
Connor Potter came next. Albus examined him as neutrally as he could. The Boy-Who-Lived was pale, and still did not look entirely well.
Behind him came his brother.
The magic that entered the room with Harry was not to be believed. Rationally, Albus knew he had not grown stronger; though Harry had eaten magic the night of Voldemort's return, he had not made it part of himself as he had last year, but thrown it all back out again before it could become so thoroughly integrated.
But he felt stronger, because this time, he was determined to have his way. If not for his own power, Albus was sure that he would have felt inclined to agree with Harry. The siren song of his magic was incredibly attractive, and if Harry had been out of the hospital wing before this, he would have drawn far more stares and attention than he already had.
Albus knew he faced an incipient Lord, and more than that, a young vates. The Dementors were gone, and incredibly, there had come no reports of attacks from anywhere in Britain.
Somehow, Harry had done the impossible.
Albus would have to make peace and truce with him, for the sake of the future of the wizarding world.
"Headmaster," said Harry, taking the central chair in front of the desk. Severus and Connor sat on either side of him. Albus had conjured three chairs, all of the proper sizes. There was no use pretending that he did not know they were coming, or playing the subtler games he might have tried, forcing them to scramble and look awkward.
Harry, of course, still addressed him by title, but Albus had expected no less. That was the Slytherin way, the serpent's fang folded back until it was needed.
He met Harry's eyes steadily. "Harry."
Harry cocked his head to the side, and a faint smile appeared on his face. Albus blinked before he could stop himself. He had expected a flat list of demands, not this almost coy look.
"You haven't seen Voldemort's Pensieve, have you?" Harry asked.
Albus kept his face blank as he said, "Severus has not seen fit to entrust the information in the Pensieve to me." Severus looked smug at that. It was only a small gesture, but Severus never had learned to stop the lines around his mouth from pulling tight when he was trying to suppress a smirk. Albus had no intention of enlightening him about it, either. First, it hadn't been important, and now, it was one of a few advantages that he had.
If he allowed himself to think about it, Albus knew, he would be frightened at how few advantages he had in this situation. Not even Harry's youth was one of them, as it would have been with any other child.
He rose above the fear, forced it away, shut it out. He had made bad decisions earlier in the year when he merely reacted. This time, too much hung on what he did to surrender to emotions. He waited.
"The Pensieve shows the night Voldemort attacked our home," said Harry bluntly. "He cast two Killing Curses, as you surmised, but the first one hit me. I reflected it back at him while he was still busy casting the Killing Curse at Connor. The second one had time to carve my brother's scar, but nothing more."
Albus's eyes closed involuntarily.
He had told himself he had not hoped, not after he knew that Harry and Connor had learned the whole truth, but he knew now that was a lie. Some distant part of him had hoped that the prophecy was still a trustworthy guide, was still pursuing the path that meant the best outcome for the wizarding world. And now he knew it was not. Harry was the one who had defied Voldemort, the one Voldemort had marked.
Perhaps not, his impatient thoughts whispered. There is still the line about the heart being marked. And Harry's scar is assuredly not a heart.
But even if that was true, it was not the certainty that it had been when Harry was under the influence of the phoenix web and fulfilling multiple lines of the prophecy. It was a faint and slender thread on which to hang the hope of the wizarding world.
Perhaps it is no more than I deserve, however, since I failed to rid the world of Tom myself, and have always looked to a child to do so.
Albus forced his eyes open, and looked at Connor. "And you saw this, as well?" he asked. "You agree to this?"
He saw the flash of longing in the boy's eyes. He wanted to deny this, oh yes, and turn his back on the truth. It would have been easier. It would have meant that he could go on being the Boy-Who-Lived, and not confront what Lily and Albus had done. It would have accorded with the interpretation of events that he had known all his life. For a moment, Albus even held his breath. A crack between the twins now might prove the final shattering of their relationship. It was not ideal, but if Albus could get Connor away from his brother's influence and insure that he spent time training in the spells that Light wizards used, then he might yet make Connor the prophecy's lodestone.
And then Connor Potter proved why he had been Sorted into Gryffindor.
"Yes," he said, soft, but entirely clear. "I know what I saw. I agree with Harry that he—that he was the one who reflected the Killing Curse." He swallowed. "Peter told us that either of us might be the one the prophecy meant, and I agree. It was too vague." He looked up at Albus, and there was the first spark of betrayal in his gaze. "I never knew it was that vague. Mum always told me that it was settled. I never knew that there were so many words that might mean two different things."
Albus caught Harry's eyes, and saw the pride and pleasure and triumph on his face as he looked at his brother. He also saw the disgust on Severus's face, but he knew better than to think of it as a weapon. For the moment, at least, Severus was slavishly devoted to Harry, and would do whatever the boy asked of him—including putting up with a twin in Gryffindor.
"And you put our lives in danger," said Connor abruptly, leaning forward. "How could you do that? Powerful wizards aren't supposed to put babies in danger. Light wizards don't do that."
Albus blinked. He had not thought Connor would make the leap to this level of accusation so quickly. In retrospect, he supposed, he had been foolish not to see it. Connor had been quick to accept what was taught him in the past by adults he trusted. Now it seemed there might be no adults he trusted left any more, and he would accept what Harry had told him.
"It was necessary," he said. "We had to know who the prophecy would choose. This was our best way of limiting it to only two candidates, not three or more." His gaze came back to Harry, and he remembered again what it had been like to enter that half-shattered room, and feel the power howling around the twin with the lightning scar. "And there are circumstances that you do not know—"
"We do so," said Harry, narrowing his eyes. "Peter overheard your conversation, later, with Mum, when you thought it was safe, and he told us about it. I know that I took in some of Voldemort's powers, or at least his magic-eating ability and then some of his other powers, and that's the reason I am the way I am. I know I'm a Parselmouth because he was, and able to feed on other wizards because he could. I know everything, Headmaster. I know that you planned to raise me as a guardian to my brother because you feared me. It was the same reason you put the phoenix web on me, in the end. I don't think that's a coincidence."
Terror such as he had not known in a long time flashed through Albus's body. He had trusted in Harry's essential character, chancy as that might have been, even after he had taken Lily's magic away with the justice ritual. But the boy looking at him now through cold, considering eyes might as well have been Tom Riddle come again.
He reached out with his compulsion, trying instinctively to soothe that anger and turn it away from him.
He met shields piled on shields, raw magic and Occlumency and a series of wards that the boy seemed to have woven into the very surface of his skin. Then a great, sliding serpent opened one eye, and Albus felt the boy's magic-eating ability coiling about his body. In this mood, he knew, Harry would not simply get rid of the power he swallowed, vomiting it back up when he had an immediate use for it. He would absorb it into himself, the way he had done earlier in the year. Harry could become the most powerful wizard in the world that way, if he wanted to.
"Don't try that again," said Harry, his voice gone cold and distant. "I don't want to drain you, Headmaster, but try to control me or my brother, and I will."
There were the serpent's fangs, then, unfolded. Albus knew he could expect no help. This was a vates. This was a wizard come fully into his power, and into his independence, and much too young.
This is the bane we forged, he thought, gaze locked on Harry's face, Lily and I.
And he saw the same realization in Harry's eyes, mingled with no horror, simply acceptance, and knew then why Harry had handed him the truth. Harry was herding him, showing him the possible paths of the future and closing them off one by one. He intended to block Albus against a cliff, and then make him choose between jumping or alliance.
I will choose alliance, Albus thought. If he is the Boy-Who-Lived, I have no choice. If he is a Dark Lord, I must know him well enough to fight him. If he is a Light Lord, I must be his mentor. And if he is vates…
If he is vates, I must be ready to ride the windstorm.
"You have my word, Harry, in the name of Merlin, that it shall not happen again," he said aloud. "Of course, you know that your mother is frantic for you, and wishes to have her sons back again."
"It will not happen again." Harry's voice was calm and assured, without a trace of mockery. "Connor is going to stay with me for the summer. He needs an education in things he should have learned long since."
It is rational, Albus thought, as another gate slammed shut, and who could object to it? We trained him so well. Of course he is the one who can best train his brother, the one who best understands the challenges that his brother is facing.
"Can you be sure it will be safe?" Albus asked, because, shutting off paths or not, he would play this game to the bitter end. Harry was still young, and might not have thought of everything. One deadly weakness that many Slytherins had was the urge to demonstrate their own cleverness, their own subtlety. Caught up in the desire to do so, Harry might have left openings he assumed his enemy was too stupid to find. "There could still be many dangers. The Dementors, for example, now that they are free from the chains tying them to Azkaban—"
"The Dementors came from nightmares in the beginning," Harry interrupted. "They told me so. I sent them back into nightmares. I sent them home."
Albus felt his eyes close again, but this time he restrained himself to a long, slow blink. "They are gone?"
"They are gone," said Harry firmly. "Forever. The Ministry is going to have to find some new way of guarding Azkaban." He smiled at Albus, all teeth showing, in a way that said he understood the full consequences for the future, and did not care.
Albus reached for news he had intended to save. Now, while the game was in motion, might be the one chance he would ever have to throw Harry off-balance. "The Ministry will not be happy with you, Harry," he said. "They are in a mood to crack down on Dark creatures, not see them free. They have passed the anti-werewolf legislation, did you know? As of summer solstice, no werewolf will be able to hold a paying job, have custody of a child, own property, vote, or do many other things."
Harry's balance never even wavered. "Then I shall be working to change that, as well," he said. "But I am sure, Headmaster. The Dementors are as gone as my mother's magic is, as irretrievable."
Albus narrowed his eyes. Time to strike at his wording. He ignored his old mentor's voice in his head, the one that said attacking an enemy's wording was the last refuge of the desperate. "You say they told you they came from nightmares. Could they have been lying?"
"They spoke to me as vates," said Harry. "And they certainly vanished quickly enough when I released them."
"Released them?"
"Tore their web apart."
He can see the webs. He can see the bindings. Albus could hardly breathe for fear. What web might he decide to tear apart next, just because he can?
Harry lifted his lips slightly, not quite a curl, but an expressive gesture of scorn nonetheless. "You need not worry, Headmaster," he said. "I know there are other webs in the wizarding world, but I do not intend to simply tear them away from their owners without properly considering the consequences. That includes the webs on house elves, on phoenixes, on unicorns, on dragons, on all other creatures. If I could remember to consider the consequences when I was half-dead of exhaustion, then I can remember to consider the consequences at other times."
He removed the Dementors' web when he was half-dead of exhaustion.
And Albus turned the corner, and found the truth waiting for him, the truth he had never been able to run from for very long.
Harry wasn't just a vates, he was someone who had a very good chance to be a successful vates.
He had a chance to succeed where Albus had failed.
The light Albus had considered an inferno in the distance might well be a sunrise.
He met Harry's eyes, and this time saw the infernal child smiling, as if he could read the truth out of the Headmaster's face. For all Albus knew, that was something Severus had taught him.
And of course Harry had not left a weakness in his arguments that depended on his own desire to show off. From the very first, Lily had cultivated a desire in him not to show off, and that meant Harry had little ambition for himself. But when it came to ambition for others, he would fling all his considerable power in the direction of one goal—carefully.
If he had not struggled to prevent this very occurrence for so long, Albus thought that he might even have welcomed the slender hope as a strong one.
At any rate, he had made a mistake, the equivalent of several dozen mistakes, in treating Harry as an enemy. That had to end now, and not only because Albus wanted access to both boys. He had once killed a Dark Lord for the love he bore the wizarding world. He wanted to be part of its future, and, like it or not, Harry was going to be an enormous part of that future.
"I am inclined to trust your judgment on this matter, Harry," he said, making sure to keep his voice grave. "What do you want from me?"
"Little that you won't want to give." Harry's eyes were direct, his voice brisk. "I don't want you to tell anyone about the possible truth of the prophecy, not yet. We don't know yet which one of us it's going to be. But I do want you to tell everyone that the Dementors are assuredly not coming back. I want you to help us make peace with the Ministry over that. I want you to tell Mum that neither of us are coming back unless she manages to gain control of her insanity, and I want you to stop trying to compel us or force us back under her control—legal or mental. I want you to stop threatening Connor, and me, and Professor Snape, and any other of our allies. I want you to take the phoenix web you put on Peter off him. I want you to stop encouraging subtle prejudices against Slytherin House. I want you to research why the Voldemort we faced could have memories of the night his older self attacked Godric's Hollow." He drew in a deep breath. "That will do for a start."
Albus nodded slowly. Here was the list of demands that he had expected, but they were more reasonable than he had thought they would be. "And in return?" he asked quietly.
"I will work with you to understand the bindings on the wizarding world, and what the consequences are of being a vates," said Harry, his gaze open, and calm, and clear. "I will work to use legal means of achieving freedom where I can, and not openly antagonize the Ministry; we need them to win this war. I'll help train Connor. If and when Mum ever regains control of herself, I'll try to be open to a reconciliation with her. I won't threaten you or your allies, and will fight to defend you. I will keep certain things that you want to stay secret—the phoenix webs, and the truth about what happened to Sirius—silent." He tilted his head. "If it comes down to it, I'll be the Boy-Who-Lived, or the guardian of the Boy-Who-Lived, and a warrior against Voldemort, and I'll die in the battles against him. If it comes to that. I plan to fight."
Severus shifted. Albus's eyes flicked to him, and he saw the disgruntled expression on the man's face. Harry had not talked to his guardian before coming up with this list, then, and Severus did not like it. Severus always had hated to be left out of anything important.
That might be a weakness I can use later, then, Albus thought, but for now he would commit to going ahead. "I agree," he said aloud. "And, as it happens, I can answer one of your terms immediately."
"Can you?" Harry sounded wary, but interested.
"Yes," said Albus, trying to ignore how much Harry sounded like a classically educated pureblood wizard, and how much that disturbed him. We made him into this, Lily and I. "I believe I know why Voldemort's younger selves could draw on his memories. Tom Riddle, as I knew him, always had much more facility with aggressive probes into others' minds—Legilimency—than with Occlumency. It is one reason that Severus was able to survive as a spy, because he was the better Occlumens." On Harry's right side, Severus nodded grudging agreement. "It is entirely possible that his older self, as he is right now, would not sense his other selves reaching out to him and leaching bits of information from his mind. They would have the mental skills to do so, and the connection necessary to allow it." He leaned forward and met Harry's eyes, because this was another thing he had to know. "Do you have such a connection to him with your scar, Harry?"
A brief flicker of his eyes to the right. It is good to know the boy can still be startled, Albus thought. "Yes," said Harry. "Prophetic dreams, mostly. Nightmares."
Albus had the feeling Harry wasn't telling the whole truth, but decided not to push him. He nodded. "I am not surprised. If and when Voldemort becomes aware of the link between you, he will use it to good effect, but a passive draining from his mind is unlikely to be noticed for some time to come." He let out a breath. "We have a valuable weapon in the war."
"Harry is not a weapon."
Albus jumped. He had never heard Severus sound so angry. The words were barely on the edge of hearing.
"I said I'd fight," Harry reminded his guardian.
"You are not a weapon," said Snape. His eyes had not left Albus. "You are a fighter, a leader. There is a difference. And I know how difficult and dangerous fighting on a mental battlefield is. I will be the one to make the final decision on how you use this link between yourself and Voldemort, if at all."
Albus inclined his head. Not such a weakness. I will have to watch out for him. "I quite agree, Severus," he said mildly. "As you will be watching out for Harry this summer, you may make such decisions then."
Severus subsided back into his chair with a viciously triumphant expression.
"That isn't settled yet," Harry protested, sounding fretful for the first time. "And I'm a fighter, sir. Not a leader."
Albus cursed himself for not seeing it before. There was his weakness.
For now, he would go along with Harry. The terms Harry set were reasonable. He was unlikely to relinquish control of himself or his brother, and both were necessary for the future of the wizarding world. Albus had played a part in making him what he was, and in repentance for that, it was only fair that he listen to Harry. There was even the hope that Harry might be exactly what the Ministry, Hogwarts, the pureblooded wizards, and everyone else needed.
But if he was not…
Harry had an unusual strength in not caring if he was out in front, in the collective gaze and worship of the wizarding world.
It was also a natural flaw. Press on it hard enough, and Albus thought he could gain control if he ever needed it.
Better not to advertise it, he advised himself, as Harry and he swore vows to each other in the name of Merlin. Much better to subtly encourage Harry back into the shadows—should I need to.
Harry paused and eyed the portrait of the Fat Lady. "I know that Hermione forgave me," he said, "but how do the rest of your Housemates feel about me right now, Connor? I don't want to be walking into a nest of Gryffindors convinced that all Slytherins are slimy snakes."
Connor snorted and shook his head. "Someone said that the other day, and Hermione scolded them until they shut up." He tugged on Harry's arm. "Come on. Snape said I could spend some time with you." Connor frowned at that, and Harry did, too. Snape was still being utterly unreasonable, and saying that he wanted Harry to spend the summer with him, and Draco at most, while Connor went away—where didn't matter, as long as it wasn't Hogwarts. "And I don't feel as comfortable in the dungeons or the hospital wing as I do in Gryffindor Tower."
Well, that was understandable. Harry nodded, and Connor whispered, "Honeybee!" to the portrait, which swung open.
It quickly became apparent, as they stepped into the middle of the Gryffindor common room, that a lone Slytherin would be of no concern. Instead, most of the Gryffindors were watching in fascination as the Weasley family apparently attacked itself.
"How could you do that, Percy!" Ron's face was as red as his hair. "You know that Dad tried so hard to get that position for you, and—"
"That position isn't worth what he would have paid for it, if he actually had money," Percy interrupted. Harry had never heard his voice so cold and distant. Admittedly, he didn't know the third Weasley brother that well, but Percy had always sounded passionate when he scolded people for breaking the rules. This sounded as though he were trying to imitate Draco. "Mr. Crouch has offered me a very good position. Testing the thickness of cauldron bottoms is very important."
"You're a self-important bastard for accepting it when you turned down Dad's job!" Ron howled, and his face turned redder yet.
It seemed as if he would lunge at Percy, but the twins got there first. A whispered charm from the twin whom Harry thought was Fred Weasley, and a bright purple light limned Percy's body and shrunk his robes. From the slightly cross-eyed expression on Percy's face, they'd shrunk absolutely everywhere.
"I don't have time to argue with you," said Percy, in a lofty tone ruined a bit by his breathlessness. "I didn't expect you to understand, Ron, or you either, Fred and George." He turned and looked across the common room. "I thought Ginny might."
Harry turned to look at the youngest Weasley, who was sitting at the bottom of the stairs that led up to the girls' rooms. She lifted her chin at all the attention focused on her, but, surprisingly, didn't blush.
"Family matters to me, Percy," she said quietly. "I don't see how you can turn your back on Dad."
"That's only because no one understands the brilliance of the position I've been offered!" Percy's fingers were shaking as he fumbled with his Head Boy badge. "D'you see this? I've got the chance to do things that no one else in the family has ever done before, climb to heights that Dad never will, stuck in Misuse of Muggle Artifacts the rest of his life—"
"You sound like a Slytherin, Percy," Ginny said.
Percy's face went pale, then flushed red, and then he slammed his mouth shut. He turned his back and stalked out of the room, shoving the portrait open to an indignant squeal from the Fat Lady. Harry heard the clipped sound of his footfalls up the hall for a moment before they faded.
Harry half-closed his eyes. Percy had sounded like a Slytherin, but he had also sounded as if he were under strain, as if pursuing his ambition were costing him something, which was something a Slytherin wouldn't do.
"I'm going to go after him," he murmured to Connor.
"But—" Connor protested.
Harry gestured to Ron, who looked as if he were about to put his fist through the wall. "I think Ron needs you right now," he said. "I'll come right back after I've talked to Percy, I promise. But something's not right."
Connor nodded reluctantly, and then went to comfort Ron. Harry strode out the portrait hole, taking the time to apologize to the Fat Lady for the rough way he'd opened it, and then looked up and down the hall.
He saw Percy's shadow vanishing around the right-hand corner, and hurried after it. He caught up with him on a turn of the staircase. Percy was walking rapidly, his head down and his cheeks burning, and his hands clenched hard enough at his sides that his nails were drawing blood from his palms.
Pitching his voice to sound loud, Harry said, "I don't know if anyone else will think about it, but I'm not convinced by your performance in there."
Percy jumped, flinched, and slowly turned around. His face was so distraught that Harry nodded. That was a performance, nothing else. Of course, then he had to think why a Weasley would wish to alienate his family.
Harry knew the answer as soon as he recalled the way that Dumbledore had trusted Percy to spy on him last year, and the way that Percy had effortlessly brought him to the Headmaster's office the moment he suspected Harry of wrongdoing.
"Dumbledore asked you to do this, didn't he."
Perhaps because he didn't make it a question, Percy simply gave in. His body sagged against the wall, and he ran his hand through his hair, a disordered gesture that Ron was more accustomed to making, in Harry's experience. "Yes," he whispered, looking away.
Harry shook his head slightly. "Why?"
"The Ministry's cracking down on everyone," Percy whispered. "Dumbledore saw the first signs of it last year, even the summer before last year, and started sending me post. He asked me if I would be willing to pretend to abandon my family for the sake of a post in the Ministry, if they offered it to me. And they did." He laughed humorlessly. "My father has a reputation there, you know, and no one else would ever think of me as anything other than a Weasley if I didn't detach myself from him. No one would ever trust me, ever spill secrets around me. But a Weasley who wants to make a name for himself…well, of course that's understandable. My family's poor. Of course they would think that I might want to be wealthier, and to give up a name that doesn't mean anything but a foolish reputation for courage and honor." Percy closed his eyes tightly. "And being an assistant to Mr. Crouch is a plausible first step for a young man who wants to make a name for himself. He has a reputation, too, and it used to be a good one. And it's a plausible first step for a deep-cover spy for the Order of the Phoenix, which Dumbledore has asked me to be."
Harry felt anger lash to life in him. Another sacrifice. Does Dumbledore never stop?
"You could tell your family what's really going on," he suggested. "I'm sure they'd understand."
Percy shook his head at once. "The twins, Ron, and Ginny are too young to understand why it's necessary," he whispered. "And my mum—I know you only met her the once, Harry, but can you honestly see her agree to treat me coldly when it looks like I've never done anything to hurt her? Can you see her agree to stop sending me jumpers for Christmas, or inviting me home for the holidays?"
Harry had, reluctantly, to shake his head. It was true that he had met Mrs. Weasley only the once, but she hadn't struck him as a good actor.
"My father is as transparent as ice," said Percy. "He can't keep any emotion off his face. It's one reason he hasn't advanced. He wouldn't be able to stop grinning and winking at me.
"Bill and Charlie might understand, and I might be able to tell them, but I'll have to wait and see. If nothing else, being in communication with them too much might damage my reputation. They're still Weasleys." Percy sighed and rubbed at his eyes, which were marked with too many sleepless nights. "So, for now, I tell no one. I go deep-cover, and seem utterly and entirely trustworthy, so that Dumbledore can have eyes in the Ministry."
Harry took a deep breath. He had to know. "Percy, did Dumbledore ever use a phoenix web on you?"
Percy shook his head at once. "No. Only persuasion. That's why it took me so long. I had to debate for almost two years before I could convince myself to abandon my family for the Order's cause." He smiled sadly. "That sounds terrible, doesn't it? But it's what I've decided to do."
He looked directly at Harry. "Don't tell them, please."
Harry nodded. He understood why Percy had stomped out at Ginny's Slytherin comment. He was being a Gryffindor, choosing a lonely path out of the courage of his convictions, but he couldn't tell his family that.
Percy turned and started down the stairs again, then paused. "You've seen V-Voldemort," he said, forcing the name out. "He's coming back, isn't he?"
Harry nodded again.
Percy glanced at him over his shoulder. "Well, then," he said. "I'm hardly some great battle wizard. My greatest skill is observing. If I can help the Second War by being a spy, I will."
He went down the stairs.
Harry leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes for a moment. He was wondering what he should do with the new knowledge. On the one hand, he had promised not to interfere with or threaten Dumbledore's allies, and this definitely fell under that category. And Harry had no reason to be particularly pleased with the Ministry himself, lately.
On the other hand, this was Dumbledore mucking about in the Ministry, again, and Harry knew someone who would be very, very interested in that information.
And Percy was being a sacrifice, when Dumbledore could have worked out some way to do it that was easier on Percy's mind and heart.
Harry smiled a bit, grimly, as he straightened. He would send a letter to Scrimgeour advising him to watch Percy, and see if he might be persuaded to try different tactics, rather than outright exposing him as a spy or feeding him false information. Dumbledore would no doubt be thrilled to have a spy in the Auror Office itself. Percy would believe he was getting somewhere. Scrimgeour would know where the mucking about was coming from and be able to act at his discretion.
Everyone wins, Harry thought, and made his way back to the Gryffindor Tower, and his twin.
"I'm so sorry, Remus."
Remus shot Harry a faint smile as he packed up his belongings. "There was nothing you could have done, Harry," he said, sounding as if he wanted Harry to understand that he did not blame him. "The Ministry shoved the legislation through overnight, using a secret meeting of their supporters, the kind that hasn't been called in a hundred years. Everyone forgot that law was on the books." He sighed. "And now I won't be able to teach here again."
Or hold any other paying job, Harry thought, and fumed silently at the unfairness of it all. If nothing else, he was sure that Dumbledore would try to use Remus for spy and scut work, just because he would want to feel that he was useful to the Order.
"Remus, about Sirius—" he began.
"I did my mourning already, Harry," Remus interrupted, his voice calm but firm. "Please. I went out under the full moon and ran myself exhausted." His eyes caught Harry's, asking in silence for Harry to drop it. Harry nodded, and Remus continued, "I'm more worried about you, and Connor. How are you doing with Sirius's death?"
Harry sighed. He had promised to be more open about his emotions, but that was with Draco and Snape. On the other hand, Remus did care about him, and he wanted to speak, for once.
"It's hard," he said quietly. "I expect to turn a corner and see him coming towards me any day. And then I find myself thinking of him as an enemy, and wanting to destroy him."
"Don't worry, Harry," Remus said. "He would have understood. And he did some good with his death." Harry had made sure that Remus understood the full story of the Shrieking Shack, both Sirius's death and what had happened at Godric's Hollow. "He made it possible for you to know the truth." Remus's eyes glittered. "I think he would enjoy what is going to happen now, with you and Connor more in accord, and Dumbledore prevented from giving you any more of the same help that was so ineffective with Sirius."
Harry nodded. "Thank you, Remus." And some of the pain was easing. "How much did you know about his life?"
Remus shook his head. "A great deal about his childhood. And Regulus, of course. But nothing about the last few years, that he was suffering from nightmares, or that the curse had never broken." Remus sighed and closed his eyes briefly. Harry could see the marks of the strain from the full moon two nights ago clearly etched on his face. "I can see why he didn't want to tell me. It took him forever to tell me the truth about the night he ran away from home and went to James's house."
"Why?" Harry whispered. "What happened?"
"His parents tried to compel him to join the Death Eaters," Remus said. "He broke free of chains and mental compulsion, both, and hurt his mother—badly enough that she was bedridden for the rest of her life—and ran."
Harry winced. And in the end, he was a Death Eater, sort of, all the same.
He pushed the thought forcibly away. Sirius was at rest now, and that was all that mattered.
"I want you to stay with us for the summer," he told Remus, to take his mind off things.
Remus snorted as he placed an illustrated chart of the moon's phases carefully into his trunk. "And has anyone decided where you'll be staying for the summer, yet?"
Harry flushed. No, they had not. He was insistent that Connor stay with him. Snape was equally insistent that he would welcome no Potter brat into his quarters, unless it happened to be the Potter brat he was guardian of, and Draco had made it icily clear that his parents' invitation extended only to Harry. It was the last day of school tomorrow, the day that everyone would normally leave on the Hogwarts Express, and still nothing had been decided.
Remus chuckled. "I didn't think so. If you do decide on somewhere, Harry, let me know. For now, I've got some places to go in London, and they'll serve for a few weeks."
"What kinds of places?" Harry asked, interested.
Remus's eyes slid away from his. "Not my secret to tell, Harry," he said. "Werewolf places."
Harry nodded, understanding and letting it go. He wasn't a werewolf, and couldn't really understand what it was like, to have that compulsion-driven beast roaring inside him. If Remus had some contacts among werewolves that he felt he couldn't share, Harry would respect his privacy. "I'll let you know," he said, and leaped up to go through the door.
I remember that.
Harry blinked. The voice in the back of his head had not spoken in several days, and he thought it had left him. But no, it was still there, and now it was speaking in a rush, its words spilling over each other.
There was so much shouting. There was so much pain. Then the magic flared, and I knew that someone had been crippled. I didn't know who.
That's it. That's what it was. I know my name now! My name is Regulus Black.
Harry gasped and had to lean against the wall. He heard Remus's anxious question of, "Harry? Harry, are you all right?" but couldn't answer, staring stunned as Regulus's voice whispered rapidly to itself.
I stole the Dark Lord's locket, but I didn't make it far. I only had time to hide it in 12 Grimmauld Place, not to destroy it. He captured me and made me suffer with the curse, and let Sirius feel it. Oh, the pain. Harry could feel a mental shudder, and hoped that Regulus was not about to go mad or douse him with the pain again, but Regulus recovered after a moment and soldiered on.
I suffered for years. I don't know where I am, but I suffered. The Dark Lord didn't kill me, but shut me up somewhere and left me alive to suffer. That's what Sirius felt. That's why it was so intense.
But then the other fragment of the Dark Lord took over Sirius's mind from the locket and threw me out, because I was a link to his older self and he didn't need me any more. My web was broken, and I was drifting. I was attracted to your mind, and Snape's, and Peter's, and your brother's, and other people's, because they had a connection to the Dark Lord, but the pain had been so intense I couldn't remember anything for a long time.
But now I do. Now I remember.
Harry gulped, and managed to refocus. At least one minor mystery had been solved, then. All the wards on 12 Grimmauld Place had slammed shut and locked tight because Regulus, the family's chosen heir, was still alive, and he hadn't given permission for his cousin to access the house.
Do you know where you are? he asked.
There was long silence, and then an embarrassed, Um. No. It's just dark, wherever it is.
Are you hurting right now? Harry demanded. We have to get you out of there. Why haven't you starved to death?
The spells the Dark Lord cast. Regulus sounded almost dismissive. They keep me alive, but I can't move, and I don't know where I am, and I'm not hurting right now. I haven't hurt since the Dark Lord threw me out of my brother's mind. His voice abruptly dipped. My brother is dead.
"We'll find you," Harry whispered. "We'll do what we can to find you."
"Harry? Who are you talking to?"
Harry looked Remus in the eye, finally, and smiled a little. "Regulus."
After that came a hell of a lot of explanation, and fetching of Snape, who yelled, and Draco, who yelled some more, and Connor, who found the whole thing odd. But Harry had made a promise, and he meant to keep it. He was going to find Regulus, and he was going to free him.
I promise, he thought, and Regulus responded with a wistful, eager note in his voice.
It would be nice to see the sun again.
Harry woke slowly. Someone was shaking his shoulder, and it was the middle of the night. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, and heard Fawkes chirp in disgust as the bed shifted, plunging his head further beneath his wing.
"Harry." Draco's face was pale, with a note of strain in his voice that Harry didn't understand until the next words. "Your father's here. He says that he'd like to see you."