Disclaimer: See Chapter I

Also, I'd like to thank those of you who have taken some time to read and review my work (you know who you are). Your kind words have been felt and hope the wait hasn't been too long for this next installment as I'm trying to update my work every three chapters or roughly once every ten days. One final bit of thanks to the Harry Potter Lexicon that is quite the resource for anything Harry Potter related.

One final note: if anyone reading this is also a fan artist, please feel free to draw any character from this work in any way you feel like going at it. Just make sure you drop a review telling where the image can be viewed.

Anyhow, without further trouble, the next chapter.

Warning: This scene is VERY gory, and I don't recommend it for the squeamish. Viewer discretion, etc…

Chapter XXIV: Shades of Gray

Harry walked back into the Three Broomsticks to find it a scene of activity. Mad-Eye and Arabella, along with Legate Bladvak and Ironhammer were gathered around the bar. Around them, goblins wearing the red coat, but with a yellow cross in place of white chevrons on their arms, were sorting the dead from the wounded, and otherwise establishing a triage unit, using table tops and planking from the walls and floors to make stretchers even though Madam Pomfrey and a pair of seventh year lady Hufflepuffs were busy conjuring several of them. "Harry!" Looking around, he saw it was Doc who was calling to him.

Doc was lying down on top of a conjured stretcher, his foot somehow reattached to his ankle though a bloody bandage covered it. He was still rather pale, but had a grin on his face as he asked, "Sorry, man, but do you think you can get me a drink? I mean a drink, drink?" Harry glanced around, pulled out the small flask he carried with him, unscrewed the top, and handed it to Doc. Doc drank a long pull, and responded, "That's good. Jim, right?" Harry nodded, as there was indeed a pint's worth of Jim Bean bourbon in the flask. Doc said, "Listen, don't sweat it over me and Nev there. Madame Pomfrey told me I'll be on crutches for about five months but that's all right, and Nev's got a couple a cracked ribs but he'll make it. You get the bastard who was running?"

Harry nodded, and said, "Listen, share that with Nev, and tell him once he comes to that I have to go debriefing. Right?" Doc nodded, as Nev was still out of it. Katrina was next to Neville, and Harry walked over and asked, "You, okay?" Katrina nodded. "You want me to get your father." She shook her head, and replied, "No, I want to be here when Nev wakes up." Harry put a hand on her shoulder, squeezed it, and went over to Figg and Moody.

Moody had the burnt corpse of the younger Death Eater on the table and was examining the left arm in interest. "Yes, of course, this ties in with the reports Malfoy was going abroad with Nott to Russia. Yes…" Harry walked up to Moody and interrupted his rambling for Moody turned around from the corpse and ordered Harry, "Take a seat lad, this could take a while. Now, describe what happened as clearly and concisely as possible." Harry related the events of the evening from the time classes ended and everyone had made a beeline for the town.

Moody stopped him when he spoke of the Russian, "You said his name was Igachev?" Harry nodded, and noticed Figg had placed a small pyramid with an eye in it (much like the symbol Doc had showed him on the American dollar bill) in front of him. The eye was staring at him intently. Figg, noticing Harry's questioning look, explained, "Not to worry, this is a Salazar Eye, it records everything within a 20 foot radius. Pictures, sounds, the whole lot and replays everything later like a memory from a Pensieve. Much more effective then a muggle video recorder."

Harry continued, and ended with capturing the vampire. Figg tapped the side of the pyramid, and the eye closed. It was then Bladvak came by, and gave a slip of paper to Figg; she looked at it, closed her eyes, sighed, and asked, "Is there anything we can do…" Bladvak shook his head, "No, my soldiers knew what they were getting into when they signed the contract. The possibility of death was always listed there." He turned and headed towards the long line of goblin corpses in one corner of the tavern. Harry only noticed it then, and counted fifteen gray blankets that covered the corpses. Moody asked Figg, "The butcher's bill?"

"Fifteen dead, eight wounded. Damn…" Figg screwed up her fist, and Moody shrugged, "It could have been worse. In a packed room like this, they could have killed a lot of students if it weren't for Potter and his friends." He turned towards Harry, and gave a gruff complement, "You really earned your pay today, Harry. Good work."

Harry was about to answer that it cost fifteen dead, eight goblins in the hospital, and Neville and Doc fucked up, but was saved from an answer as Alex came in. He had gone into the bathroom after the vampire had been dragged away, and looked like an undertaker with his three-piece black suit, coat unbuttoned with the black vest and gold watch chain. The only color on him was the red-gold patterns on his school tie.

Alex went over to the Salazar Eye, tapped the eye and spoke clearly into it. "The Death Eater taken by Mr. Potter as prisoner in the men's lavatory escaped. How he did so is unknown, but that is the case." Just as quickly, he shut it off. Turning to Moody and Figg, he said, "Officially, that prisoner escaped. Unofficially, we have him, though I ordered a goblin sergeant I know to move him into the backseat of one of the Order's cars." Figg asked, "Why?" Alex shrugged, "I checked the crispy one, he's Russian. The one Harry had tied up in the latrine was English. We have a situation here that has to be dealt with."

Moody scratched his forelock, "Who is?"

Alex's face was expressionless; "He's a Death Eater initiate, which isn't surprising since he is the son of one of their sympathizers." He paused and continued, "Albert Flint." Harry recognized the name as that of a family that supplied the Slytherin Quidditch captain. Out of curiosity, "How are we going to turn him over to the Ministry? There is bound to be some uncomfortable questions asked." Alex looked at him expressionlessly, "We are not going to turn him over. Mr. Flint is going to drop off the face of the earth.."

"Sir?"

"Mr. Flint will be going with you and me, and a goblin driver on a midnight fishing trip. One where Mr. Flint won't be coming back."

Harry was horrified, for he could kill a man in the heat of a fight, but this… "Shouldn't we interrogate him…"

"Already did so. He's too small low-level to know what was happening. All he knew was his father's friend Lucius Malfoy asked for him to help some Russian friends of his. Since Malfoy can deny the whole lot, Flint is too much of a liability." Harry was about to protest some more when he heard behind him, "I don't like it as neither, but it has to be done, Harry." It was Albus Dumbledore, who had come no doubt as soon as he had heard there was fighting in the town. Harry didn't know what to say, so he kept his mouth shut, and listened. "Harry, who do you think Fudge will believe? Your story, or that of the son of a most prominent, influential, and generous," the last came out caustically, "member of a pureblood family? Fudge, with his positions on muggles, squibs, and the purity of the blood… Do you understand why I am asking, yes I am asking, for this onerous task to be carried it out?"

It took a moment for Harry to think it through. No matter how disgusting the job was (and if what happened was what he thought it was, then it was fucking disgusting), if Fudge could in some way break Dumbledore and the Order, then all was going to be lost. Harry didn't want to think what would happen if that came to pass…

Nodding grimly, "All right. Do you want me to come along?" Figg looked as though she were going to shake her head, but Alex answered, "You will, lad, you will."

Alex had been smoking a cigarette. Slowly, he stubbed it out on to the scarred tabletop.

         *        *        *

An hour later, Harry found himself sitting in the backseat of one of the Order's flying cars, in this case, a green land rover: Seated across from him was Alex who had on his lap an old, 1940s era .22 silenced pistol. An American weapon, Harry had heard it once, and it gave a very quite crack, no more loudly than dropping an empty box on a floor. Harry wondered if his uncle really needed to bring it, as at the moment they were hovering over a spot in the North Atlantic.

Beneath him, Harry could see the crashing waves of the North Sea, and looked at the bundle on the floor. It was a black, rubber body filled with about fifty pounds of cement ingots, and Mr. Albert Flint. Flint wasn't aware of what was going to happen.

Alex got up from his seat, and opened the rear door. They were fifty feet off of the surface, out of the way of waves. Since the car floated, there was no wash from props, so the door just hung out there open. Alex motioned for Harry to move the bag to the edge. With some effort, the two of them did so, until Alex held up a hand. The head of the bag was lying over the edge.

Alex leaned back, and with his .22 in his right hand, used his left to open the bag. Flint was awake by now, and glared at Alex in the dim light from the overhead in the back of the Land Rover. "Do you have any last words, Mr. Flint?" Alex mumbled something, and the petrifucus totalus jinx was loosened around the man's mouth. Flint spoke grimly, mockingly, "Enjoy what you can now, mudblood, for when the Dark Lord strikes, you will pay!" Alex smiled, and punched the man's throat once. Flint started coughing as his speech was cut short.

Alex looked down at the man, placed the barrel against the Adam's apple, and promptly fired a round into his throat. The round went in, but wasn't powerful enough to go through all the way. With the man's head and shoulders hanging over the side into the air, it ensured that even if it had, it would only have gone through and hit salt water.

Flint started making a gurgling noise as blood from his larynx and voice box started going down into his lungs. Harry felt pity for him, and asked his uncle, "Sir, shouldn't you…"

"No" Alex's response was swift, unhesitant, and final.

Working swiftly, Alex took out two hand grenades: one of white phosphorous, the other a thermite grenade from a black bag near his feet. Both were notorious for the high heat they generated and were often used to destroy things like radios and other equipment. The two had been taped together with a lot of black electrical tape, and Alex used some of the excess to attach the pistol to the two grenades. Placing it on the floor, Alex reached into it, and pulled out a hand full of shotgun shells (birdshot, very small pellets but a lot of gun powder) and a roll of green duct tape.

Flint was still gurgling for air and was starting to turn purple. Harry remembered the way his uncle had described to him how it was possible to drown in one's own blood. Part of recoiled at what his uncle had done, but the other part was fascinated at the way his uncle so callously dealt death, dismemberment and pain. Alex calmly loaded the shotgun shells into Flint's mouth, which was gaping and moving the way a fish on land did. As soon he had loaded in five shells, Alex duck-taped the mouth. He then, as Flint was starting to turn blue, taped a third grenade over the wound, and then the pistol and it's explosives.

Then, just as quickly, Alex pulled the pin on the grenade on the wound, flicked off the spoon (five seconds before it exploded), zipped up the bag, and booted it out of the door. As soon as the feet cleared the rear of the Rover, Harry saw a flash from the bag, and a small bright ball of flame and light in the sky. The ball was extinguished though, as soon as it hit the water. Harry hoped Flint died, if not painlessly, then fast.

Alex leaned over, and closed the door. Securing it shut, he went over and sat on the floor. As soon as he sat, the goblin driver took off, beginning the hour and a half flight back to Hogwarts. Alex opened a box of chocolate truffles (Harry remembered Alex mentioning it as a favorite of his) and looked over at Harry.  "Something wrong?" Harry looked over at his uncle, who was slowly eating a chocolate.

"Was that bit necessary? Couldn't you have just…"

"Double-tapped him in the head? Then dumped the body in the sea?" Alex was speaking to Harry almost condenscingly, and Harry found himself getting angry at his uncle's tone.

"Yes, was it necessary to have him suffer?"

"You think he would show you any mercy if the roles were switched?"

Harry had to check his anger at that one, as he didn't think that would be the case. Alex continued, not giving Harry much time to think, "Remember what the Headmaster said back in Hogsmeade? Think of it this way: if Flint was still prisoner, he would have had a venue, more importantly his father would have a venue, to burn us instead of him. If he were dead, we still would have some heavy-handed explaining to do as to why he was killed and not brought in alive. So…If he were to vanish, then the Ministry, and just as importantly the Death Eaters, would be wasting valuable time and effort hunting the man down."

Alex shook the box of truffles, and held it out to Harry.

"Truffle?"

Harry didn't know what else to say, so he took one, and ate it in silence for the rest of the hour and a half trip. Alex was obliging, as he too must have been deep in thought over something. Of what, Harry didn't know, and to be honest with him, couldn't say he cared to know. Staring outside, Harry wondered how Doc, Rosemerta, and Neville were doing. He also wondered if Ginny was worried about him, for he had almost immediately left without saying much to his friends.

I hope she isn't worrying herself silly, she'll give the game up, Harry thought to himself. Another smaller voice of his added, But then, she wouldn't be your woman if she didn't now would she?

They reached the front gates of Hogwarts, and the goblins set it down in front the gates. Alex looked over at Harry, "Go check on your mates and meet me in the dungeons in about half an hour. Clear?"

"Yes, sir."

The car stopped in front of the steps to the front door. Alex and Harry walked up them, and split off in opposite directions once they reached the inside. Harry went up the stairs going to the Infirmirary to find it was crowded, and that one section was curtained off. Harry saw Neville and Doc, side by side surrounded by Ron, Hermione, Luna, Ginny, and Katrina. "Hey, hoss, back already?" Harry could tell Doc was in pain, but was still had his sense of humor.

His friends greeted him, Nev too as he seemed to have gotten lucid, though he seemed to be in pain as well. "You all right, Harry?" This was from Ginny, and even though her tone was light, Harry need only look at her to see that she was worried of him. Harry smiled wearily, "I'm fine, its the rest of you that I'm worried about. Speaking of which… Hermione, Luna, that was top work getting those kids out of the line of fire. Any casualties?"

Hermione shrugged off his complement, "Just doing the job, Harry, you should know that. No casualties thank heavens besides a bunch of minor cuts, scrapes and bruises." Luna started laughing, "And a lot of bruised pride. You should have seen Crabbe and Goyle try to get out of the room through that one window, and Goyle was stuck and Crabbe started to kick him to get him through!" Harry, who distinctly remembered seeing Crabbe standing on a booth kicking at something, but he had had more important things to worry about at the time, like survival, to worry about something like that.

Neville breathing shallowly, asked Harry, "What happened to the Russian bastard that was…" He trailed off; Harry knew that broken ribs hurt one when you breathed. "Got away for now, don't worry though Nev, we'll get him." Nev smiled weakly, and moved his right hand so that it caressed Katrina's hand. Harry looked over at her and saw how she was by Neville's bedside, and looking down at him with…

She really does love him. Harry was gladdened to see this, for Neville deserved it. Neville Longbottom may have been the clumsiest, and maybe not the most debonair student that wore the red and gold of Gryffindor, but lord knew he had the guts of one to spare, and he deserved a break of this sort.

The two of them reminded Harry to look around. Ron and Hermione were sitting next to each other talking quietly with Doc, while Luna and Ginny were talking. Harry knew that Ginny wanted to go and talk with him, to see if he really was all right, and that however much he wanted to hold her, and lose the damn veil of secrecy that hurt so damn much, it was being reaped doubly on Ginny.

Ginny turned, and in her eyes were her feelings for him, and the worry over him. Harry smiled, and with his lips mouthed I'm fine. She smiled back and turned away to Doc, asking how long it would take for the bones in his foot. Harry was impressed: all of that had taken but a heartbeat, and no one was noticing.

Remembering his appointment with his uncle, Harry looked at his watch. It was a few minutes past midnight. He still had a few minutes, but decided the earlier he got there, the quicker he could brief his friends on just what the hell was happening. Saying he had to meet with his uncle about the incident in Hogsmeade, Harry left and told them he would keep them informed.

Heading down the stairs, Harry reached the dungeons, and was greeted by his uncle Alex, who was carrying an old-fashioned surgeon's bag instead of the nylon bag which he had carried the explosives. "Early aren't we?" Harry nodded, "I'm curious as to why we are down here. Care to talk, uncle?"

"Of course, but first," he handed Harry a roll of parchment a green quill, a white one, and a small bottle of black ink. "You're going to be stenographer on this one."

"This what, sir?"

Alex smiled, his face frosty and devoid of warmth. "Interrogation"

With that he led him to a door, which seemed to be empty. Going to the wall, Alex pulled out his wand, and tapped it in the same pattern Harry had seen people use to enter Diagon Alley. The bricks moved aside to reveal a staircase. Following his uncle down that particular staircase, they came to a black, unmarked wooden door. Alex cast "Alohamora" and entered.

Harry followed him and saw the vampire that he had shot strapped to a steel chair with wide armrests. Harry saw that while the vampire still had the bloodstains on his clothes from his shooting, the man (the vampire appeared to be in his twenties, with long, dark brown hair, with Slavic cheekbones and blue eyes) was looking at Harry and Alex with a bored expression. Besides the vampire strapped with chains and handcuffs, there was a desk with a large inkwell, and a long table beside it in front of the prisoner. A couple of large braziers filled with hot red-hot coals were in another corner of the room.

"Sit at the desk," Alex ordered him. Harry did so, and set the parchment and quills down on top. Using the Green quill (Harry knew it was a dictation quill, the kind Skeeter had used to write her trash about him the previous year) Harry dipped it in ink, and spoke, "Testing, testing." The quill dipped itself in the inkwell, and wrote what Harry had said. Harry nodded over at Alex, who set the bag on the long table and opened it.

Alex tossed over a small vial (which Harry recognized as a potion used to detect Nullificaserum) and dabbed some on the man's fingertips. This was easy to do since the man's hands were strapped and spread, fingers apart, on the armrests. They turned black and Harry was ordered to go back to his seat.

Alex turned his attention to the vampire, "Your name, and nationality." The vampire remained silent, and greeted Alex's command with a sneer.

Face emotionless, Alex sighed, and pulled an object Harry couldn't see out of the bag. Harry picked up the regular quill, and wondered just what his uncle was going to use since truth serums weren't going to be effective. While he feared what it might be, he hoped his uncle wouldn't go to those lengths to get information.

Once again, Harry was wrong.

Alex went up to the vampire, and with a small ball peen hammer slammed it down on one of the vampire's knuckles. Harry heard the crack of bone and cartiladge over the scream the vampire gave. The vampire screamed for a few seconds then stopped, breathing hard.

Alex, as though he were discussing the weather, turned to Harry, "Vampires, while they heal faster and take greater efforts to kill then a human, nonetheless feel the same amount of pain. On another topic, pay attention closely, as the interrogation methods I'll be showing to you have the same degree of effectiveness of the Cruciatus curse. Except," Alex was still talking calmly, "of course, for the singular advantage of not giving off a large negative magical energy signature that is easily traceable."

He turned his attention back to the vampire, and repeated, "Name and nationality."

Again, the vampire didn't answer, and it ultimately took the breaking of the first three knuckles on his pinky, ring and middle fingers of his left hand before he spoke his name: Sergei Chernenko, Russian.

The interrogation continued after that. Alex grilled the man about his birthplace, how he became a vampires, the names of Russian vampires and covens, the names of British vampires, and covens, a wealth of information being pried out of the man through the use of pain.

Harry knew he was supposed to take notes, but he was so… it was indescribable his feelings as he watched his uncle, a man whom he knew was one of the most charming and friendly and best people he knew out there do what he was doing to this person. Part of him was studying what Alex was doing, knowing full well that one day he could end up under the blade (Alex was using what looked like a metal hobby knife on the man's fingers and hands), the other part was recoiling at what was happening, telling him to intervene, that no one deserved what his uncle was doing to the vampire.

Yet, his ears deadened by the screams and yells of Chernenko, Harry merely stared glassy-eyed at his uncle and let the dictation quill do most of the work. Trying hard to concentrate, Harry studied the notes as they were being wrote.

Chernenko was relatively a new recruit to the ranks of the vampires, first changing over in 1976. He had operated in England during the first war with Voldemort. The previous year, he had been asked by a vampire he knew of named Golovko to go and work with him in England. After that, he described the whole operation to Alex. 

Chenenko had been seconded to Igachev to head the contingent of vampires. Their mission had been simple: snatch Katrina Snape and bring her before the Inner Circle of Death Eaters. Assassinating Harry Potter had not been in their orders; kidnapping him as well as Katrina was a secondary objective, as the Death Eater who had briefed them ("McNair," Alex said to Harry as he heard the description) told them he was the objective of a future operation. Their plan had been to incapacitate him in the bathroom, but things had gone to hell from there on.

Harry listened, and as the vampire finished his story with him being captured, Harry hoped the interrogation was over. Alex had run out of bones on the man's hands to break, and had taken a rubber blackjack to smash them even further as 'encouragement' for the vampire to keep talking. Chernenko's screams were horrendous to say the least.

Yet, as Harry was about to pack up, Alex held up a hand. What the fuck is he doing, Harry thought as he sat back down and rubbed his eyes. By sheer guesswork, he thought it was probably seven in the morning, as he had had to make several trips for water and to take a piss during the interrogation. The vampire, of course, had had to take a piss where he sat, so the room had the sour stench of urine in the air, though he hadn't shat himself, which, Harry conceded was a minor miracle. Nonetheless, he wanted to wash, and get some sleep, and devoutly hoped his uncle would just hurry up and let the prisoner be.

Alex set down the blackjack he held and looked at the Russian vampire. "You mentioned earlier that you served in England until 1982. Did you ever work for a vampire named Mueller?"

The Russian, who looked as though he was relaxing now that he had rolled and told just about everything, tensed up big time. He nodded slowly, "Yes, I did."

Alex's eyes had an unusual fire in them now. "And the man who recruited you for service in England, the one you said you had worked with before, it was Mueller, yes?"

Chernenko nodded.

"I know he works for the Dark Lord. Does he not?"

Another nod.

"Now, I have one last question for you. Where is he?"

The Russian started stressing big time, his eyes going wide as saucers. "I don't know."

"You lie. Last chance: where is he?"

"I don't know."

Harry watched as his uncle picked up the blackjack, and something from his case. Alex's face was full of…Harry wasn't sure what it was, but it was maniacal. Judging from the blackjack, Harry braced for the scream that bound to follow from Alex's finger work.

Only, this time, he didn't smash the fingers. With a deft backhand, he belted the Russian in the face with the blackjack. The Russian reeled with the impact, and worked his jaw up and down. Alex then spread it horizontally, and shoved it into the Russian's mouth as a mouth guard. Holding it in with his left hand, Alex's right hand came up to show a pair of pliers. Deftly, he gripped one of the two fangs that Chernenko had in his mouth and pulled one out. Blood gushed out of the gaping wound in the man's gums, and he started screaming.

Harry was stunned, as this was a new depth of torture. Alex, speaking to Harry even though he was facing the vampire, explained, "Vampire teeth have a gland in them that secrete an enzyme that they use when they drink blood. They can still live, mind you, with one or even none of them, but they are then dependant upon blood from transfusion, muggle blood-banks and the lot. In our world, it is the equivalent of being castrated." Harry already knew of these facts from his DADA classes. What was disturbing him was the way Alex was acting. His tone and manner was of delight and joy, especially as the vampire was going into a fit, going crazy as he began gulping the enzymes and blood flowing from his mouth. The reason for this was the fact the enzyme was like a narcotic to the vampires, and with the amount coming out of the single hole in his mouth, the vampire was being deluged with it.

Harry had had enough, and got up. "Put him out of his misery, uncle."

"No."

Harry wasn't done yet, but his uncle turned to him as he approached the vampire. "I told you, let him be." Alex's tone was icy as the wind outside.

Harry looked at him and finally lost it, "What the fuck is your problem, Alex? Look at him!" He pointed towards the vampire. Alex looked over coldly at the vampire, and answered, "He should be grateful he's a vampire, else I would be using a blowtorch on him."

Harry was fed up by now, and drew his Browning, intending on putting on a round between the Russian's eyes. Alex was faster, and knocked it out of Harry's hand. Harry wasn't expecting his uncle to strike him, and was even more surprised when his uncle grabbed him by the lapels of his half-robe and slammed him against the wall. Alex's eyes were ablaze with fury. "You think you're better then me because I'm torturing this fuck? That you're better because you have this idea of mercy, and chivalry?" He was speaking so loudly and closely Harry could feel the spittle flicker on his face. Harry glared at him, "Just fucking kill him, no one deserves that." Another gesture to the slobbering vampire.

Alex's eyes were still ablaze, "Come see me ten years from now, when you've lost someone dear to you. See how self-righteous you are then." He let go, and picked up Harry's sidearm. Alex turned his back on Harry and said, his voice calmed down by then. "If you don't wish to witness this, go. If not, then stay, the choice is yours."

Harry, shook up and disgusted by the whole affair, straightened his robes and went to the door. As he went up the stairs, the last thing he heard from his uncle was "Now, now, where were we, Mr. Chernenko."

Going up the stairs at almost a run, Harry ran through the halls and into one of the inner courtyards of Hogwarts. His mind was burning, trying to figure out what could drive his uncle to such depths. Harry had killed before, but this torture was a horse of another color all together. The whole affair left him feeling unclean.

Looking around, Harry saw that the courtyard was white with snow and that it was lightening up; he remembered it snowing as they came in. Standing in the courtyard near a fountain, Harry remembered standing in that very spot with Hedwig, during his first winter at that very same time. The thought made him feel cleaner, thinking of a more innocent time.

His inner revelry was broken up as he felt a snowball hit his head. Whirling around, he saw it was Ginny, dressed in a robe and laughing. Harry smiled, picked up some snow, and chased her. She threw another at him, and then squealed as Harry embraced her, and pushed some in her hair. The two of them laughed, as Harry held on to her, trying to forget the horrors he had witnessed. After a moment, they broke apart, as both knew of the game they had no choice but to play. Yet as they broke apart, the two whispered, "I love you."

And Harry's world seemed to settle down, his mind at somewhat more ease.