Chapter 25 – Confusion

"Honestly, Mr. Potter. Injury finds its way to you on its own. There's no need for you to self-inflict injury."

Harry nodded apologetically to Madam Pomfrey as he sat on the edge of a bed in the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey held Harry's hands in front of her, casting various healing charms to mend his injured knuckles.

"I know, Madam Pomfrey. I'm sorry to bother you," Harry replied sheepishly.

Madam Pomfrey pressed her lips into a thin line. "Should I even bother asking why you did this to yourself?"

Harry glanced at Ginny. She was standing at the foot of the bed with her arms crossed and giving Harry a look that strongly reminded him of Mrs. Weasley.

"I was frustrated," Harry mumbled, shifting his gaze to stare at his shoes.

Madam Pomfrey tutted. "Such nonsense. Perhaps your girlfriend can talk some sense into you while I fetch your potion."

Harry looked up at Madam Pomfrey in confusion, and then felt his face burn in realization that Madam Pomfrey was talking about Ginny.

"She's not -- " Harry began, but Madam Pomfrey was already out of earshot.

Harry glanced at Ginny embarrassedly. To Harry's relief, Ginny seemed content to ignore Pomfrey's comment. In fact, she seemed oblivious to it. Her eyes were glazed over and she was nibbling on her lower lip distractedly.

"Ginny?"

Ginny started and raised her eyes to Harry. "Pardon?" Ginny asked.

Harry's forehead wrinkled in concern. "Are you feeling okay, Gin? You seem preoccupied or something."

Ginny plastered a smile on her face that Harry knew was not genuine. "I'm fine."

"Gin…"

Ginny walked over and sat on the hospital bed beside Harry. "I'm fine, Harry. I've just got something on my mind."

"You and me both," Harry commented.

Ginny looked at Harry and grinned. "I'll tell you my secrets if you tell me yours."

Harry smiled half-heartedly and found himself lost in Ginny's deep, brown eyes. How had he never noticed how dark they were? Or how expressive? He realized now that he could judge Ginny's mood just by her eyes; they told him everything he needed to know. For some strange reason, that comforted him. She had completely opened herself up to him, even if she was keeping secrets. He knew, in time, she would tell him what was on her mind. But for now, her focus was not on herself; he could read her frustration and worry for him as though it were an open book. Her eyes pleaded with him; begged him to open up and share the burden. With a sudden jolt of realization, Harry knew he could tell Ginny everything. She would understand. She would help him with the questions, the fear, and the magnitude of it all. He just had to say it.

"I -- " Harry began, fighting against the quaffle-sized lump in his throat. He swallowed hard and took a deep breath. "I -- "

"Mr. Potter! At last I've found you. What are you doing out of the dormitory?"

Harry looked up and saw a very stern-looking Professor McGonagall crossing the hospital wing. Her usually tidy bun was falling apart and her face was pale. Harry shifted uncomfortably.

"Sorry, Professor. You were looking for me?" Harry asked, hoping to avoid discussing why he was yet again in the hospital wing.

McGonagall turned to Ginny. "Miss Weasley, return to the common room at once. Mr. Potter, you will come with me to the Headmaster's office."

Ginny stood abruptly and nodded at Professor McGonagall. "Yes, Professor," Ginny replied, casting a worried glance at Harry before walking swiftly out of the room.

Professor McGonagall turned her gaze to Harry. He flinched under her piercing glare, wondering why he was being summoned to Dumbledore's office. The look on McGonagall's face did not ease Harry's mind one bit.

Madam Pomfrey bustled over with a fizzing potion and thrust it toward Harry. He took it without comment, feeling as though he were the most detestable being on earth. For a few blissful moments, Ginny had allowed him to forget about what had happened in Hogsmeade today. Reality was now crashing down on him with full force. He tipped the flask back and tried not to wince at the terrible taste. He knew he would get no sympathy here.

"Is he excused, Poppy?" McGonagall asked.

"Yes, Minerva, in just a moment," Madam Pomfrey replied, and then turned to Harry. "Mr. Potter, I don't want to see you in my hospital wing again with such an unnecessary injury. In times of war, I'm busy enough with life-threatening cases; I don't need my attention being diverted because of foolish nonsense. Am I understood?"

Harry swallowed. He had never heard Madam Pomfrey speak in such a way before. He was humiliated and ashamed of his actions. He felt like a child being scolded. And … he deserved it. He silently wondered why Madam Pomfrey would be dealing with war-related injuries; she was the hospital matron for Hogwarts. As far as Harry knew, there had not been anyone involved in the war from Hogwarts, until today. What else was going on that he didn't know of? Who was being injured that required the attention of Madam Pomfrey? Harry glanced at Madam Pomfrey and found her stern gaze awaiting his response.

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey. I understand," Harry replied.

"Very well," McGonagall said. "Follow me, Potter."

McGonagall swept from the room, causing Harry to jog to catch up with her. He chanced a glance at her. Her lips were pressed into a disapproving frown and her eyes were locked on the corridor in front of her. Harry knew McGonagall to be a formidable witch, but at that moment, she looked downright scary.

They remained silent as they rode the spiral staircase to Dumbledore's office. Professor McGonagall escorted Harry into the room, nodded curtly at Professor Dumbledore, and left without a word. The tension in the room was palpable.

Dumbledore rose from the chair behind his desk and moved to the window overlooking the Hogwarts grounds. Harry stood awkwardly, waiting. Harry studied his professor's profile. Dumbledore's face was drawn. He looked old and tired. Each time Harry saw Dumbledore, he seemed to have lost a bit more of the sparkle that usually reflected in his eyes. Harry found the change in Dumbledore rather unnerving.

"Have a seat, Harry," Dumbledore commanded quietly, maintaining his post at the window.

Harry complied and sank into the familiar chair in front of Dumbledore's desk.

"Was Madam Pomfrey able to heal your hands?" Dumbledore inquired.

"Yes, Professor," Harry replied, embarrassment flooding him once again.

Dumbledore nodded as he continued to gaze out the window. "You must stop this, Harry."

Harry swallowed. Stop what? Breaking his hands? Visiting the hospital wing? Endangering his classmates? The war? What, exactly, was he supposed to stop?

"Sir?" Harry queried.

Dumbledore turned to face Harry, his eyes saddened. "I imagine you blame yourself for Miss Patil's disappearance?"

Harry shifted in his chair and nodded. He braced himself for the blame he so richly deserved.

Dumbledore sighed and walked slowly to his chair. He lowered himself and steepled his fingers in front of him. "I'm guilty of the same crime."

Harry's eyes darted to Dumbledore. "Sorry?"

Dumbledore nodded. "I've been sitting up here blaming myself for allowing my students to go to Hogsmeade. They are my responsibility, after all."

Harry shook his head and straightened himself in his chair. "But you couldn't have known, sir," Harry insisted.

"I should have realized Voldemort wouldn't allow my students to enjoy their youth. I'm an old fool," Dumbledore continued.

Harry shook his head. "Professor, you couldn't have known. You just wanted your students to enjoy themselves. There's nothing wrong with that."

Dumbledore was apparently ignoring Harry. "It's all my fault. I sent Miss Patil to her fate. I am to blame. I should have prevented this. I might as well have delivered her to the Death Eaters directly and saved them all the trouble. I should resign from my post as Headmaster. No parent will trust me with their child."

Harry pushed himself to his feet angrily. "No! You couldn't have prevented this. It'snotyour fault, sir. It's the Death Eaters and Voldemort. They're the ones responsible. You shouldn't blame yourself!"

Dumbledore pinned Harry with his ice-blue gaze. "And neither should you."

Harry felt his breath catch in his throat.

He stared at Dumbledore who returned Harry's gaze unblinkingly. Harry realized Dumbledore's ploy. He had blamed himself, committing Harry's own self-deprecating act. Dumbledore had been blaming himself, taking the weight of everything that had happened on his own shoulders, just as Harry had done. Harry blinked as realization sunk in.

"It's frustrating to hear someone take the blame for something that is so completely out of their control, isn't it, Harry?" Dumbledore asked softly.

Harry lowered himself to his chair, feeling confused.

"Perhaps you can understand the frustration your friends have been feeling?" Dumbledore continued.

Harry stared numbly at Dumbledore's desk.

"You are not to blame for what happened to Miss Patil, Harry. In all honesty, I have much more reason to take the blame than you. However, neither of us could have known what was to happen. The only crime we are guilty of is trying to live our lives as normally as possible in the face of war, and I do not believe that is a crime worthy of shame."

Harry nodded, feeling wretched nonetheless.

Dumbledore sighed. "This war is just beginning, Harry. There are going to be many casualties. We nearly lost Miss Tonks and Mr. Shacklebolt is still missing. Not to mention the Muggles who have already lost their lives. Now Miss Patil has been taken. I, for one, cannot even begin to guess the purpose she will serve for Voldemort, and that is what frightens me the most. But you must understand, Harry. There will be losses. We cannot stop that."

"But, itis up to me to end the war," Harry said quietly.

"I'm afraid that's not true, Harry."

Harry's head shot up to look at Dumbledore questioningly.

"It is true that your destiny ties you to Voldemort. As the prophecy states, you are the only one who may vanquish the Dark Lord. However, we would be fools to believe that vanquishing the Dark Lord will end the war. He may be the leader, but he has many followers. While Voldemort may be the most visible enemy, he is not the only one. This war may wage on long after Voldemort is gone."

Harry gaped at Dumbledore. "But -- "

"But what, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes focused sharply on Harry. "Am I upsetting you by implying that this war extends far beyond what your involvement will be?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably as Ron's words echoed in his head, 'The war is not only about you, Harry'. Ron was right. Dumbledore was right. There was a lot more to this war than Harry and Voldemort, and there would be many more injuries … and deaths. Harry had been focusing far too much on the prophecy, that he had lost sight of the big picture. Harry did indeed play a role, and an important one at that, but it wasn't the only role. This war was bigger than Harry. It was bigger than Voldemort. They were just pawns on each side, between dark and light, evil and good, losers and winners. Harry was determined to be on the winning side.

He raised his head and met Dumbledore's eyes unflinchingly. "Thank you, sir," Harry said.

Dumbledore smiled sadly. "I'm here for you, Harry, as are your friends. Don't forget that."

Harry nodded.

Dumbledore leaned forward. "Harry, I must ask. Can you think of any reason that Voldemort would want Miss Patil?"

Harry searched his mind for everything he had learned about Parvati. In his opinion, Parvati was the least likely person to be of any use to Voldemort. "No, sir."

Dumbledore nodded, his blue gaze penetrating Harry. "Did you tell her of the prophecy?"

Harry shook his head. "No. I haven't told anyone since Remus." He decided not to mention the fact that he was about to tell Ginny before McGonagall interrupted him in the hospital wing.

Dumbledore's gaze softened. "I suspected not. You are not one to share your burdens."

Harry stared at Dumbledore, wondering how to take his last comment. Was he suggesting that Harryshouldshare his burdens? Or was he agreeing with Harry's decision to keep it to himself? Harry felt so confused. He longed for a time when he knew nothing of Voldemort or the blasted prophecy that haunted him day and night.

"I shall ask you to return to your dormitory, Harry. I fear we are facing a difficult week, and we will all need what rest we can get. I must also remind you that you have remarkable friends, Harry. I suggest you take a moment to make note."

Harry nodded and rose from his chair. "Yes, sir. Thank you."

Harry left Dumbledore's office with his mind much more clouded than when he entered. While his feelings of guilt for Parvati's abduction had been alleviated somewhat, thoughts of the prophecy swirled through his mind battling with his thoughts of his friends, who were unwavering in their loyalty to him. He was such a prat. He only hoped he hadn't pushed Ron too far.

The sound of chains clinking and a door unlocking roused Parvati from her troubled thoughts. She did not know how long she had been … well… wherever she was. Her body ached from the cold hard floor beneath her. Her mouth was dry and her stomach rumbled in complaint. She pushed herself to her feet hesitantly, her eyes wide and blinking against the blackness that engulfed her. Her heart pounded frantically in her ribcage. She tilted her head, trying to determine the direction of the sounds.

"She's in here."

Parvati spun herself around blindly, her ears straining for another sound.

Click.

Parvati tensed in anticipation. Her heart thundered loudly in her head.

A bright light pierced Parvati's eyes as a door was opened widely. She threw her arm protectively over her face to block out the offending light. Her eyes watered and she blinked rapidly, trying desperately to regain her sight to see what fate had in store for her.

"Move it!"

Parvati stumbled as she felt a sharp pain in the back of her leg. She lowered her arms and squinted around her. She could make out the shape of two people in robes. As her vision focused, she recognized the unforgettable masks of Death Eaters. She began trembling violently.

"I said move!"

Parvati doubled over, pain shooting through her side where a boot had connected with her. She stumbled forward, struggling to catch her breath and determined not to let these bullies wear her down. She was strong. She would not give in easily. She wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing.

The Death Eaters pushed her down a corridor. It was dimly lit, Parvati realized, despite her initial reaction to the blinding light. It seemed to be underground. The floor, walls, and ceiling were stone. Water trickled down the wall in spidery webs. Parvati shuddered as a flood of cold air washed over her.

"Keep going," barked the shorter of the two Death Eaters.

Parvati obeyed and began climbing a rickety staircase. She was shivering uncontrollably, whether from fear or from the chill in the air, she wasn't sure. Her teeth chattered and she wrapped her arms around herself tightly. The stairs creaked with each step and she wondered vaguely if they would hold her weight. She was nearing the top; the chill deepened and Parvati could see her breath come out of her in vaporous puffs. Then, with a blast of cold fury, the top door opened. Parvati felt her knees give out. She was vaguely aware of the Death Eaters yelling at her, but she could not move. Horrible memories flashed through her mind. All happiness shrank away. She knew only grief, sadness, and despair. She dragged her eyes to the open doorway. Two tall, cloaked figures flanked the door. Dementors. Parvati gasped. She felt a tug on her arms as her body was dragged up the remaining stairs. She was sure she was going to be sick. Nausea wrapped itself around her. She had never been that close to a Dementor before. She couldn't think straight. She couldn't move. She was lost. She was alone.

Eventually, the icy air ebbed away. Her senses returned, though her body continued to shiver uncontrollably. Parvati opened her eyes and found herself in some sort of sitting room. The Death Eaters had deposited her and then left. She pushed herself up and looked around. Other than a single armchair placed in front of a fireplace, the room appeared empty. Parvati walked hesitantly to the fireplace.If there's Floo powder….

"You won't find any Floo powder here."

Parvati jumped at the sound of a high, cold voice. She spun around and felt her jaw drop in a silent scream of terror. Before her stood not a man, but a monster. The body was far too skeletal to be a man, and its face had slits for eyes that burned red. There was no nose, but two narrow openings, like those on a snake. Its skin was pallid and gaunt. This thing could not be human; no human looked like that.

"You are Parvati Patil?"

Parvati backed against the wall, sobbing silently.

"Answer me, you insolent girl!"

Parvati was pulled to her knees by an unknown force. She felt her jaw move and her voice reply, "Yes, sir."

"That's better. You should know better than to fight me, girl. You will not win."

Parvati kept her head down as her hands and knees ground into the wood floor. She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed that she would survive this, that she would see her sister again, that she would wake up and this would all be a nightmare.

"Now," the high-pitched voice announced. "Let's see if you can give me what I want."

In the next instant, Parvati felt her head split in two; or at least, she was sure it had. The pain blinded her. She gasped and struggled to breathe. Thoughts and memories were pulled from her mind viciously. It was as though someone or something held her mind as an open book and was flipping through the pages, tearing out a page now and then when it was deemed necessary. The thoughts were sorted through so quickly, that Parvati could not make sense of her own memories. She vomited and fell to her side in a shivering, crumpled heap. For the second time that day, everything went black.

Harry clambered through the portrait hole his mind still befuddled from his conversation with Dumbledore. For a wizard of such wisdom, Dumbledore sure could be confusing. Harry's musings were brought to a halt as a deafening hush fell over the common room as the Fat Lady's portrait swung shut behind him. Every eye in the common room was on him; some of the stares were accusatory, some hopeful, others fearful. Harry froze, the dreaded spotlight finding him once again. Everyone stared at him in anticipation, waiting. Waiting for what, Harry hadn't a clue. He could tell they expected him to say something, but what?

"Have they found her, Harry?"

Ginny's voice. Harry sought the girl that belonged to that voice in the crowd of Gryffindors. She stepped forward, her hands clasped in front of her worriedly, her dark red hair falling in waves around her shoulders, and her eyes open wide with hope and fear. Harry locked his eyes on her. "No, Ginny. Parvati's still missing."

Several gasps and sobs escaped from the people gathered in the common room. Whispers erupted as conversations reconvened. Obviously, the chatter before Harry had entered the common room had evolved around Parvati. Harry, however, had another issue to tend to. He broke his gaze from Ginny and glanced to the seats in front of the fireplace. Sure enough, he found Ron and Hermione settled together on the couch. Hermione's eyes were red and swollen; the events of the day had obviously taken their toll. Ron was sitting with his arms crossed and a scowl darkening his face. Harry groaned inwardly; Ron was not going to make this easy.

Harry glanced back at Ginny only to discover Dean with his arm around her, whispering in her ear. Harry clenched his jaw and tried to ignore the rage of jealousy that erupted in his gut. Ginny's eyes lifted to Harry's. They stood with their eyes locked for several moments. The Great Git was still whispering in Ginny's ear. Ginny blinked and then turned and placed her hand on the Dean's chest, talking to the Great Git in earnest. Harry tore his eyes away, his breathing short. Harry cursed silently. He had no right to be jealous. Ginny was his friend; if she needed comfort after the horrible events of the day, who was he to complain about who she got that comfort from? But, damn, he wished it was him instead of Dean.

Harry sighed and walked over to Ron and Hermione, ignoring the eyes that followed his movement. He slumped into the chair next to the couch, a wide range of emotions warring within him. He looked at Hermione who was sitting on the edge of the couch, her hands clasped in her lap, nibbling nervously on her lower lip. Harry glanced at Ron and found him glaring at the fire, obviously not prepared to make the first move.

"I'm sorry, Ron," Harry said.

Ron shifted slightly, but continued to stare at the fire.

"I said some things that were completely unfair and stupid," Harry continued.

Ron glanced at Harry, his jaw still clenched. Hermione nudged him with her elbow. Ron frowned at Hermione.

Harry persisted. "I know the war isn't only about me. Dumbledore helped me see that. He also convinced me that Parvati's kidnapping is not my fault."

Ron scowled. "I told you that."

Harry sighed. "I know. That's what I'm saying, Ron. You were right. I was wrong to think everything about this war revolves around me. But, you were wrong too. I do not have a 'mightier than thou' attitude. I do have a fault, and that is trying to keep everyone else safe, and frankly, I still believe you'd be safer if you weren't friends with me. But you're all so stubborn that no matter how terrible I am, you won't leave me alone. Even though you're a stupid prat, I am grateful that you have stuck with me. You're my best mate, and I shouldn't have taken my anger and frustration out on you. Believe me, I appreciate everything all of you have done for me. You guys are all I have," Harry said.

Ron shifted uncomfortably. Hermione was blinking her eyes rapidly. She elbowed Ron once again.

Ron rolled his eyes at Hermione and then turned to Harry. "I'm sorry, too, mate. I was way out of line with that glory stuff. I know you hate the fame. It was a stupid thing to say."

Harry nodded and held his hand out to Ron. "Forgiven?"

Ron nodded and shook Harry's hand. "Forgiven."

Hermione hiccoughed and sniffled. Ron rolled his eyes and turned to Harry. "Can you believe her?"

Harry chuckled and ran his fingers distractedly through his hair. "You okay, Hermione?" he asked.

Hermione nodded, wiping her tears on her sleeve. "Yes. I just wish the two of you weren't such … boys!"

Ron arched an eyebrow at her. "Really? I rather thought you enjoyed the fact that I'm a boy."

Harry groaned as Hermione gasped and punched Ron in the shoulder.

"Ron! I don't want to hear about …that!" Harry exclaimed.

Ron laughed and dodged another slap from Hermione. "Sorry, mate. I can't help that I'm irresistible."

Harry rolled his eyes and laughed as Hermione began an all-out attack on Ron. They were his best mates, and he couldn't ask for better.

Parvati slowly became conscious of voices around her. The pounding in her head filled her with nausea, so much so that she could have sworn she could smell the sickness in the air around her.That's absurd, she told herself. Why on earth would she smell vomit? Surely the Hogwarts house-elves wouldn't leave vomit lying around. Parvati tried to move her body, confusion wrapping her as she tried to figure out why her bed was so hard. Fear spread through her as she realized her hands were bound behind her back. She pried her eyes open and blinked repeatedly, trying to focus on her surroundings. Immediately, she discerned that she was not in Hogwarts, although the room did seem vaguely familiar. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force her mind to focus on something other than the incessant pounding. Then she heard them again. Voices.

"She was of no use, then?" a low, drawling voice asked.

"Not as planned, but I am confident she will still be useful," a cold, high-pitched voice answered. "I had hoped not to involve the flighty professor, but the girl will be a suitable sacrifice."

"What may I do, my lord?"

"Contact Erena. Tell her to bring the Seer to me."

"Of course, my lord. I am at your service as always."

Parvati listened to the swish of robes. She squeezed her eyes shut, panic becoming her only companion. She sensed someone moving close to her. She held her breath and dared not open her eyes. She felt an icy cold finger run across her cheek. She fought the urge to scream, to cry out. She shuddered, causing the skeletal finger to pull away. The high-pitched voice was the last thing she heard before the pain in her skull overwhelmed her, slamming her into darkness once again.

"A suitable sacrifice, indeed."

A/N: Please Review!