Harry was carried to the room he had occupied last summer, and Dumbledore followed, hoping to figure out what was happing to his favorite student. He carefully examined him, occasionally waving his wand over him, causing a few sparks, but nothing more drastic. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny watched on, praying for an end to this. Finally, Dumbledore's wand came to rest on Harry's forehead. There was a flash, and as soon as the light cleared, there were gasps from everyone in the room. Harry was covered head to toe in a pulsing, greasy, black web. Whenever there was a new pulse, his writhing and moaning intensified. Nobody looked more horrified then the Headmaster, however. Muttering could be heard from his lips.
"No. Not again." Before they could ask him what he meant, he fled the room, slamming the door shut behind him. The others stared at each other, frozen in shock before they managed to make it out of the door. They ran almost immediately into Neville, who managed to keep his balance.
"Hey, guys, what's going on? Gran gets a call from HQ, and we come rushing ov..." His voice trailed off as he caught a glimpse of the person on the bed. "Oh my god, what happened?" Ron and Hermione shook their heads, rushing to the edge of the stairs. Pilling out some of the twins' new improved extendable ears, they started listening in.
"...worse news then I could have imagined." The voice of the Headmaster was filled with pain, and it broke more than once, to their surprise. Then a new voice entered the conversation.
"No doubt Potter is seeking more attention for himself. Always playing the hero, he should have left that boy be." The cold, biting voice of the Potions Master held an amused tone, reveling in the situation. Any other comments he would have made were cut off.
"I hate to ruin your fun, Severus," and they had never heard him be so cold towards his employee, "but I hardly think the Mal Dumier is a laughing matter!" His pronouncement was followed by a silence that seemed to stop time. Ron removed the extendable ear and glanced over at Hermione. She looked horrified, and there seemed to be tears in her eyes. Before he could ask any questions, however, he was interrupted by the screaming of his mother.
"NO, NO! IT CAN'T BE TRUE, ALBUS! YOU'RE LYING!" Ron was shocked that she would yell at him like that. When he glanced back again, he saw that Hermione had fled back to the bedroom. He quickly followed her. When he arrived, he noticed that Neville had taken up Ginny's place at the foot of the bed, and she was no where to be seen. He was staring in horror at the black web that encased his year mate. Hermione sat at the edge of the bed, crying her eyes out. Ron slowly approached her.
"What does it mean, Hermione? What's the Mol Durmir?" Neville's head snapped up, and he looked wide-eyed.
"You can't mean the Mal Dumier curse? That's insane. Who would..." When his voice drifted off, Hermione snorted in anger through her tears.
"Oh, that's what he meant, of course. Apparently, someone thought it would be fun to cast that spell on Harry." When she said his name, a new wave sobs started, and she buried her face in her hands. Meanwhile, Neville was looking sick to his stomach. Ron shook him a little. Losing his dazed look, Neville bit his lip.
"The Mal Dumier curse is one of the oldest pieces of dark magic there is, even older then the Killing curse. It's rarely performed, mostly because the power and hatred it requires is pretty rare. Also, anyone caught using it is automatically executed, without trial." Ron gave a start: even the Unforgivable curses were only punished by jail terms. The shock must have shown on his face, because Neville nodded his head. "That's how bad it is. It's even worse than the Cruciatus. When it's first cast, it seems to be nothing, until the victim remembers a bad event from his life. That's when the trap springs." He seemed unable to continue. Hermione cleared her throat and took up the explanation, although her voice was still hoarse with unshed tears.
"It takes all of the bad memories from your past, and it loops them. They play over and over again in your head. The spell prevents anything good from being remembered. Every time a new memory starts, there is a corresponding amount of pain transferred to the body. Eventually, the victim t.tortures himself to death." When she had gotten this out her eyes seemed to lose their focus, and she started staring off into space. Neville gulped, and glanced to Harry again. The occasional pulsed of the web followed by more moaning seemed to have increased in frequency. Ron ran his fingers through his hair, looking for some good new.
"But...but there's a chance he can beat it, right? I mean, he can throw off the Imperius curse, surely he can..." He faltered when Neville shook his head.
"Out of the all of the cases that have been recorded, only two people have broken the curse, and afterwards, they were never the same. They seemed to have given up on emotions altogether to escape the torture." He shuddered at the last, and then a scared look passed over his features. "Hermione, no!" Ron checked to see what she was doing, and his heart froze. She was reaching out to touch the evil black web, almost in a trance. Both of the boys grabbed an arm, trying to stop her, but it was to late. She made contact with the spell, and suddenly they couldn't let go. Emotions ran like fire through them, until there seemed to be no end to then. There was a small explosion behind their eyes, and they blacked out.
Alastor Moody gave a jerk when he heard the screams coming from the bedroom. They weren't coming from Potter this time, he was sure of that. With a small crack! he Apperated to the doorway of the room, stopping in surprise when he got there. The young Weasley was at the wall, trying the pummel it with his fists. The Longbottom boy was sobbing uncontrollably in the corner. It was the Granger girl that was screaming, however. She was grabbing at her sides, and the sounds coming from her mouth were filled with agony. There was a haunted look on her face, and it looked like she didn't even know he was there, though he was right in front of her. He was about to intervene when he became aware of a song permeating the room. When it reached a peak, there was a flash of flames in the center of the room, and Fawkes the Phoenix flew out of it. He circled the room, singing his song louder and louder until the whole house seemed to fill with it. He was aware of others appearing in the hall behind him, but he was so at peace that he didn't react at all. Eventually the song died out, and he realized that the three children had stopped their respective activities and were looking around, confused. He took a step into the room, only to step back out when he heard a new sound.
Another piercing scream split the air, filling then room. Harry potter was screaming at the top of his lungs, arching up from the bed and slamming his fists. This wasn't a scream of pain, however. The amount of rage in that sound was astonishing. In all of his years, he had only heard screams like that a couple of times, and never from sixteen-year-olds. Then he felt something that disturbed him even more. He barely had time to cast a shielding charm to fill the doorway before the whole room exploded. The vases of flowers shattered, the bedside furniture splintered, and the shelves came flying off of the walls. They circled the room, occasionally crashing into each. Molly gave a scream, obviously worried that the children were in danger. When Moody took a look, however, they were perfectly fine. As a matter of fact...
Taking a closer look with his magical eye, he made an astonishing discovery. Any object that seemed about to hit one of them suddenly swerved away, seeming of its own accord. Potter wasn't so lucky. Many of the smaller items hit him, but they seemed to do no damage. Of course, as soon as they made contact, they burst into flames. In two minutes time, all the flying objects suddenly paused, and then fell to the ground. He was interested to note that the three children were each surrounded by a foot of clear space in a perfect circle, but filed that away for later before he rushed to them, followed by Molly.
"What happened? Are you three alright?" She sounded panicked, and he couldn't blame her in the least. There was a haunted look in their eyes, and they were gazing at the boy on the bed in awe. They didn't speak for a while, still staring at him, before they whispered as one:
"I didn't know." They suddenly grabbed each other's hands, as if trying to share the last remnants of whatever they were feeling. Suddenly, he understood everything.
"You touched the spellweb, didn't you?" There was no hesitation before they nodded their heads. Ignoring the gasp that came from Albus, he continued with the questioning. "What did you feel?" He looked from one to another until Ron finally spoke.
"Angry. I felt really, really angry. I mean, I know Harry was angry sometimes, and I've seen his temper, but to actually feel it..." He shook his head as if to clear it, and continued. "I didn't know if I was ever going to calm down." When he stopped talking, Moody went to ask him what else there was when Neville interrupted him.
"I didn't feel that. There wasn't anything but sadness. A deep, drowning sadness. It felt like I would never be happy again. If that's what he feels, I don't know how he still walks around. The memory of it is almost enough to make me want to cry again." He started rubbing his arms, as if hoping to distract himself from the things he didn't want to remember. Moody was shocked, to say the least. How could they have felt different things? In the couple of cases he had seen, any people touching the victim shared any emotions. He turned his gaze towards Hermione, and was startled again to see that she had a crazy smile on her face.
"You guys got off lucky, it seems." They looked at her like she was insane. The things they had felt were certainly not funny. Then they noticed the look in her eyes. She was anything but smiling on the inside. "Do you know what it's like to be held by someone, to feel safe in their arms?" They slowly nodded their heads, obviously not seeing where this was going. "So do I. Harry doesn't. There was no one to hold him when he was scared, to soothe him when he was in pain, to praise him when he was good. His injuries were his own concern, and if he had died, no one around him would have cared in the least. No one to share those little patches of joy, few and far between though they were. And betrayal." At this, she glared over to the doorway, seeming to pin the Headmaster there with her eyes. "Kept ignorant by those he trusted and loved, even though the emotions were almost unknown to him. Asked to risk his life constantly for reasons he was unsure of. Given the taste of love and happiness occasionally, only to have it stripped from him over and over. Left to wallow in confusion and sometimes terror, when a simple word or two would have eased both. Hunted and persecuted," and with this she switched her gaze to the Potions Master, who looked paler than usual after the destruction he had witnessed, "by those who should know truth from lie, but cling to their personal fictions like little children cling to their stuffed toys in the dark." With this last word, the pale man she seemed to address sputtered in rage, turned on his heel and left. She looked towards Ron, and her face had softened considerably. She took his hand, and he gripped hers in return. "And hope. Love for the two people who seemed to say to him that the world was not a horrible place after all. People he would die for, gladly and without hesitation, if only to preserve the goodness they bring to the world. And finally fear. That those two people would be ripped from him, the ones who matter the most. When we are separate from him, he fears his life will spiral back into hell, and only the thought of our reunion keeps him going. His terror makes the hope all that stronger, which increases the fear even more. It's a vicious cycle, but he wouldn't give it up, only to return to the lonely, cold days of before." She let go of Ron's hands, and wiped her face, which was now covered with tears. "That was what I felt when I touched him. And if he's feeling all of those things, then it's a god blessed miracle that he hasn't been driven insane long before this."
After this last pronouncement, she got to her feet and made her unsteady way over to the bed, followed closely by Ron. They knelt at opposite sides and placed their hands close to him, though they were careful not to touch the web.
"It's okay, mate. Just take your time to sort things out, and we'll be here when you come out of it. We won't leave you." Ron's voice cracked when he spoke, but he still settled down to wait. Hermione nodded in affirmation, and settled on her side as well. They then ignored everyone else in the room.
There was a conference in the kitchen again, and the only one missing was Severus Snape, who had left the house altogether. Tonks took Albus Dumbledore to the side and informed him that all of the dark arts material seemed to have been destroyed. The elf heads were gone, the tapestry was a pile of ashes, and even the painting of Mrs. Black was a small pile of kindling at the entrance. He nodded to her before asking her to take a seat. Glancing over his shoulder at the stair, he finally entered and closed the door. There would be time later to investigate this happening, but that would wait. Once more his thoughts turned back to the boy on the bed, and he realized that he had harmed their relationship. For now he would think of ways to fix it, and hope that the two holding vigils by his bed would bring him back. He knew that he was again wrapped in the clutches of this evil curse, and could only hope that it would turn out better this time than it did the last.