Title: Harry Potter and the Summer's Secret

Author: Japhu

Beta reader: Chameleon

Pairing: HPSS

Rating: R

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Harry Potter and his world and don't make any money with it.

Summary: For one week in summer Harry disappears without trace. When he comes back he claims to have no memory. But something happened and it changed him. It remains to be seen if for the better or the worse. (will be HPSS)

Category: action/adventure/angst

Feedback: highly appreciated

Chapter 21 – Open Questions

Harry and Professor McGonagall stood in the Great Hall of Hogwarts. Their 'little talk' was beginning to grate on Harry's nerves. He still did not know what she really wanted from him. Harry was so tired and simply wanted to get to his soft warm bed in Gryffindor Tower.

"Have you read your OWL's letter, Mr. Potter?" Harry frowned at the sudden change of topic but did not get the chance to answer. His professor suddenly seemed in a hurry to get this talk done, for whatever reason.

"I wanted to talk to you, Mr. Potter, before you got your lesson plan. I have to say that I'm really—" Both their heads jerked around when a yell of pain echoed through the castle and a low rumbling followed it. Everything went quiet for an instant before hurried footsteps reverberated along with the sounds of whimpering cries and yells for help. Professor McGonagall did not take long to decide. She turned back to Harry with a snap that threatened to dislodge the tight bun on her head and shoot it like a bullet straight across the Hall. Responding to the echoing calls for help, her head jerked first in this and then in the other direction with an abruptness and force that Harry thought would cause her to become the next nearly headless or headless being in Hogwarts.

Watching detached, Harry was not moving after living past the first fright. He was just too tired to care about anything but sleep. Any other year he would have gone completely Gryffindor in attempts to try to save and rescue everyone. Even knowing that there were other people able to help faster and in better ways would not have stopped him then. His saving people thing was to much a part of him. It was ingrained in every cell of his body. Harry watched with almost clinical interest as his professor paled considerably. She stood observing the doors to the Hall with urgency, almost frightened, before she turned a penetrating glare at him – one that demanded to know what was going on in his head.

"We will have that talk later on, Mr. Potter. Please go to the headmaster's office now. I'm sure you know the way by now without losing yourself." She did not give him time to answer. Her presence was demanded elsewhere and she had to hurry. She knew that Harry was well acquainted with the location of the headmaster's office. He did not need her to guide him. "The password is 'jelly bean'. He is awaiting you, Mr. Potter. Hurry and don't take detours on your way."

Harry found it difficult to catch all the information she fired down at him. He thought about asking her to repeat herself. However, he did not think she would be too amused with his inability to pay complete attention due to the fact that he was asleep on his feet. He simply nodded when she seemed to wait for a reaction from him. At that moment, the doors to the great hall burst open. A clearly distraught fifth year Ravenclaw prefect rushed in, stumbling. He yelled something incoherently about falling, moving and stairs.

A tired blink, and barely a breath later, student and teacher were gone. Harry found himself looking around a suddenly deserted hall, left to consider what he should do now. Exhaustion tugging harshly at him, he wondered if it would be all right for him to just sleep on one of the benches here. It was only then that his mind processed what his professor wanted him to do. Harry gritted his teeth. Now, he felt truly welcomed, though it was really a bit to soon for his liking. It seemed it would not have taken much more and Dumbledore would have actually been standing at the castle's entrance upon Harry's arrival.

Suppressing a yawn, Harry opened the buttons on his robes to allow himself to breathe a bit easier. He should have bought new ones. They were not only to short for him, but they were also really tight around his chest making it difficult to take a deep breath. They resembled more of a dress than robes, that did not go well with the image Harry had of himself. At the very least, he would need to enlarge them a bit so he could move more easily in them.

As slowly as Harry could, his hands shoved into his trousers' pockets, he followed his head of house out of the hall. His breath even and his eyes falling shut once again, Harry listened to the hollow sound his shoes made on the stones. He bit his lips as a slightly forlorn expression crawled upon his face. He did not want to talk to Albus Dumbledore. That man would ask questions Harry could not answer satisfyingly, and – as tired as he was – he could not think clearly. Sighing as he forced his eyes to stay open, Harry glanced up and down the silent corridor. For a brief moment he wondered what had happened to the student who had fallen down the stairs. Without further thought, he moved on down the corridor in the direction of the headmaster's office.

His thoughts now drifting to his headmaster, Harry yawned until tears welled up in his eyes and the air cracked dangerously in his ears. Dumbledore had waited for weeks during the summer. If he had to talk to him that urgently, he could have done it every day for the past month. So why could the old coot not wait until Harry had slept through the night? Not a sound was to be heard beyond Harry's steady tap-slurp-tap as he made his way step by slow step. Tap when he put forward his left foot and slurp when the right one, whose shoe had a loose bottom, followed. It was a hypnotic sound – until it stopped.

Suddenly, on his way to the headmaster's office, Harry stopped dead between two steps – one foot remaining motionless in the air. A sudden realization made Harry's eyes widen then narrow to angry slits. Despite his exhaustion, he took a moment to think and instantly changed his mind and direction as the realization of Dumbledore's tactics hit him full force. What a manipulative bastard! His new determination showed on his face as he put his foot resolutely down in the opposite direction. Dumbledore would think it easy to use Legilimency on him while he is in a state of total exhaustion. Obviously, the coot thought Harry would jump when he said jump. Well, he would be in for a surprise then. Since he could not openly resist, a bit of passive disregard might work – until the morrow at least.

Harry glanced down the empty corridor that led to the headmaster's office. If he continued on, he would reach the entrance to the office in only a few more moments. Harry decided that the almighty headmaster's interrogation would have to wait until Harry felt in the mood. He wanted to feel more like himself before he allowed Dumbledore the chance for a peep show into his mind. Dumbledore knew about most of what happened in this castle – though not everything. Harry had once believed the old man was all knowing. Recent events; however, had changed that view. He now knew that the castle was; in fact, a dangerous unknown.

Harry hurried to follow the route to the Gryffindor common room. He did not want to meet anyone now, of all times. He did not want to cross a teacher's path. Harry preferred a good night's sleep. He would deal with adults tomorrow – if need be – if given the choice. Frowning, Harry increased his pace until he could see the Fat Lady's portrait guarding the common room's entrance.

Harry swallowed heavily, ignoring the curios looks he got from all around. Sometimes he felt like burning all those nosy portraits. He wondered idly which, if any, of the portraits he had passed on the way here were, at this very moment, informing Dumbledore of his insolent behavior. Or, he wondered, were they intrinsically linked to the castle? Would they follow the castle's wishes and needs if they conflicted with the headmaster's? After all, the portraits of the former headmasters in Dumbledore's office had said that they were obligated to assist the current headmaster.

Anyway, at that moment Harry suddenly felt really stupid. He could get into the headmaster's office, but not into his own common room! A glance at the Fat Lady's sweetly smiling face told him that she would not let him in without the password. He did not even ask her. Growing flustered, Harry blew a strand of hair out of his face and glared darkly at the portrait. The longer he stood out here the bigger his chance to get caught by a professor or Filch.

Finally, after several minutes Harry decided to resort to Muggle means to gain access. He began to pound against the portrait with a cool smile and a watchful eye; interested in how this bickering woman would react. It took only an instant for the pink clad woman to get over the shock that someone was actually 'beating' her. As soon as her shock wore off, she began to yell as if the Dark Lord personally had come to make her acquaintance.

Sighing, Harry ignored her and bit his lip to keep from cursing the painted woman. Lazily, he leaned against the wall next to her, continuing his steady knocking with an overall bored expression. He thought distantly that she certainly must have been a difficult person to have been around during her real life.

"For Merlin's sake, woman! You can leave your goddamn picture, so do it if you can't bear it, or open this door." Harry delivered an especially hard blow directly at her middle as a third year poked his head out curiously – avoiding the blow by a hair's breath. He backed away, wide eyed, when he saw Harry Potter leaning heavily against the wall with a clearly angered expression flittering across his face. Harry's face quickly changed to a very innocent and open smile.

"It's really fortunate for me that you opened the portrait." Harry searched his mind for the boy's name but could not remember. He had seen him in the company of the younger Creevey last year. Silently nodding, the boy cautiously stepped aside as Harry edged into the common room. Harry did not even spare a glance at the still spluttering lady, the back of which now held the younger boy's stunned look.

"Ignore her," he said to the boy. It seemed as if the startled third year wanted to have a closer look at the portrait. "She's just in a lousy mood. I wouldn't go out there if I were you, at least for now." Harry winked, grinning. The boy's face glowed from the attention of the Boy-Who-Lived as he stepped back into the Gryffindor common room. Following him with his eyes, Harry was sure rumors about his behavior towards the portrait would flow soon enough. He did not really care. At least he was on the right side of the portrait now.

As soon as Harry stepped into the Gryffindor common room, the level of noise assaulting his ears increased dramatically. Harry had to admit, he would be hard pressed to find sleep in this… madness. It would be hours before the younger years would be banned to their dorms; even so, everyone seemed to be having a bit too much fun already. Carefully scanning the room for his friends' faces, Harry found them at the same time they noticed him. Hermione was already preparing to give him (if her look was an indicator) a piece of her mind; even though her relief was obvious to everyone who knew her.

"What did Professor McGonagall want, Harry?"

"Oh," Harry frowned, yawning, and winked. "She just wanted to talk to me about my lesson plan I think. But, she got called away before I knew what that was about. Apparently, some first year experienced the moving stairs quite personally."

"Yeah." Ron stopped next to him, a butterbeer already in his hand. "There was a commotion out there." Ron looked pleased to impart his knowledge on his friends. "Some Ravenclaw stumbled down the stairs when they moved suddenly… a first year I think. I have heard that he broke a leg." He gulped down a swig of the smuggled substance. "Well, they aren't so clever, are they?"

"You're really mean today, Ron." Hermione shook her head. Harry blinked tiredly and suppressed a flinch when Seamus put his arm around his shoulder.

"Well, he couldn't have known that the stairs shudder before they move. It was a first year. And anyway, Madam Pomfrey will have him up and about soon enough." The Irish boy grinned.

"He should have read Hogwarts, A History," Hermione murmured quietly at the same time.

"How'd you hear of it?" Harry looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

"News travels fast, Harry – you know?" Dean glanced back at where the second round of butterbeer – unspiked still – was being handed out. Seamus' grin widened.

"Yes. You know, I heard a rumor that you were beating up the Fat Lady."

"Not really." Harry watched them carefully. This new unity among his dorm mates still seemed a bit sudden for his overworked mind. "I just hoped someone would hear me."

"Well, Harry, tomorrow the whole school will think that you have been attacking the poor Fat Lady."

"Yeah, you aren't waiting long to give your reputation a boost." With this, Harry went quiet. He did not want to keep talking about it. He had only been knocking. This newest rumor would die down soon enough. Anyway, Harry did not feel like talking anymore now.

"You know guys, you're talking too much." With both hands he shooed them away. He breathed deeply when at least Dean and Seamus left him, with a last laugh, to have a go at the party. Neville lingered as if unsure what to do. He never seemed much of a party person. Harry was certain that the quiet boy would all too soon follow him up to their dormitory.

"You don't have to stay with me, Ron." Harry grinned when he saw Ron's longing look.

"You're sure, mate?" Ron looked hopeful to ignore his conscience for a short time. "I'd really like to have a look at the party."

"Then have a look." Harry shrugged. "In a few minutes I'll be doing nothing but snoring. I'm sure I can do that on my own." Softly, but decidedly, Harry pushed his friend into the mass of partying students. "I won't do anything, I swear. And if I have any problems finding my bed, I'll give you a call." Harry then turned and looked imploringly at Hermione. He took her back into a niche where they could get some quiet.

"Could you do me a favor, Hermione?" Harry asked as soon as she was close enough that no one else could overhear them.

"Was it something Professor McGonagall wanted?"

"No, Hermione, nothing of that sort." Harry shook his head. He would have to work hard to convince her that he spoke the truth. It seemed as though Hermione had gotten over her naive belief that her friends always told the truth – at least him.

"I just want you to occupy Neville a bit for me. Please."

"Neville?" she frowned, not understanding where he was leading.

"Yes – please." Harry looked pleadingly at her. "He's going to come up in a few minutes. He's not one to stay here."

"Why, Harry? What do you want to do up there?"

"Hermione!" Harry's voice rang with obvious hurt. "What do you think of me? I'd just like to have some quiet before I go to bed, you know." For a moment longer she looked searchingly into his eyes. Harry held her gaze. Hermione seemed to believe his eyes showed nothing but the truth, just as everyone else thought. Harry smiled at her, raising a brow questioningly.

"Alright, Hermione? You're doing it?"

"How long?" She nodded with a sigh as though she had known she would do it either way beforehand.

"One hour? A half?"

"I'll just talk to him about Herbology. I have some questions on that for him anyway." Now, she was the one smiling. "An hour is fine, Harry." Her eyes did not let go of him.

"Thanks a lot." Harry said and turned to leave.

"Harry?" She held him back. "You'll tell me what you've done, tomorrow – all right?" It took Harry a moment to reply to her knowing smile. Then he nodded.

"Of course, Hermione." He smiled. "I'll tell you." Harry watched silently as Hermione engaged Neville in a lively conversation about potting and growing plants. Sighing, he made his way to the stairs, ascending them thoughtfully.

Once inside the dimly lit dormitory, he closed the door heavily, silently leaning against it. He gave the room a once over before walking over to where his trunk was sitting at the foot of his – oh so lovely – four poster bed. As much as he would have liked to collapse onto his bed, one thing was left to do before he could let himself sink into oblivion. As soon as Hogwarts had been done with him earlier this evening, a lingering question had entered his head. He had recognized the abrupt diminishing of his magical power.

Sinking heavily onto his knees, Harry pulled his trunk over to him. He opened the lid with a solemn and slightly apprehensive expression and rummaged around under Dudley's clothes. He searched for the one thing he needed to ensure the stupid castle had done at least something that could have a positive effect. If he was correct, the castle had solved the last stumbling block to protecting his secret.

For a moment he just stared at his wand. During the last weeks, Harry had become a bit apprehensive about using it. However, now (thanks to the castle) his magic was down several levels. He was still stronger than before, but manageable for him. It should be for his wand also, should it not? His apprehension had not really diminished, though. If not for the castle's interference with his newly gained magic (he felt the block that separated him from the biggest part of it) Harry would not even try to use it, least of all anywhere near people he did not want to die.

Memories of that day that changed everything flashed through his mind. The pain, confusion and fear as tangible now as it had been then. The moment he had felt his mind breaking free from Voldemort's grasp, Harry had scrambled away in a mad dash for his wand he vaguely remembered having seen it near that snake's badly mauled body. He had to admit it had been an exhilarating feeling when the magic finally broke through and the pain ebbed away almost instantly to be overridden by pure bliss. That was until he had looked around him to see the mess he had created – even if it had been Death Eaters. They simply lingered about, too shocked to move once they saw their master's body lying crumbled and lifeless on the ground and Harry Potter standing there in all his shining glory.

Harry tilted his head, grimacing slightly. Glory had not been too much involved if he remembered his bloody and bruised appearance. It could have been worse – much worse. He shuddered to think of the other plans old Voldemort had idly furthered in his head. He was a crazy bastard and it made Harry want to vomit to think he had his… essence somewhere in his mind.

Shaking his head, Harry remembered what had dragged him into this little trip down memory lane. Indecisively he glanced down at his inconspicuous looking wizarding inventory. It had taken a while for him to realize why his wand did not work appropriately. It took his wand literally bursting from his hand with so much force that it left the palm red and raw, and the magic still pouring out of him in painful blinding waves, for him to understand the truth.

There had been a moment he had feared that Voldemort had somehow taken away his magic during whatever it was he wanted to accomplish. Harry shuddered again. He had a fair guess as to what that had been and it was not something that promised a healthy future for the last descendent of the Potter family.

After Harry had escaped he had not been able to use his wand once, not that he had really tried after the first time. After all, there still was the the ministry to reckon with. However, it seemed to be safer and easier to master his magic while leaving his wand out of it anyway. To control his power through his wand was impossible, even the pretence of control seemed to be nonexistent… or it had been.

Harry hoped that problem was rectified now. Using his wand had become a two edged sword… his amazing magical strength developed so rapidly that Harry had no inkling of how to keep up with it. Whether Hogwarts had intended it or not, by containing a huge part of his newly awoken power it made it possible for Harry to conceal his current situation. What had been a huge stumbling block to hiding his plans from those too nosy for their own good was hopefully no longer an issue.

With less magical energy to control, Harry felt that he would be able to control its release. His wand should not explode from his hand and reveal what Harry did not want to be revealed just yet… if ever. It certainly would give things away if his wand was to suddenly shoot from his hand in a sudden burst of uncontrolled magic. It would be great if wandless magic did not have to be the only option in order to use his power.

With a deep breath, Harry reached out for the dark tool. His hand hovered above it trembling. Harry bit his lip in anticipation. His mind wandered back to Tom Riddle. Harry knew that, right now, he didn't really need the extra magical power he had acquired over the summer. He did not find it difficult to keep Tom in the mental prison he had created for him. Harry was lucky to have increased the security wards around it before the castle had interfered with his magic. Now, there was no way Harry could expend extra magical strength in his efforts to contain Riddle's soul in his mind. There was no extra magical strength left for that. He had to hope that the confines he had constructed would be enough until the castle decided to give him back what was his.

Harry knew that, later, he would need all the magical strength he could muster. Destroying Voldemort, finally and completely, would take all the power he could gather. There would be no miraculous return for the evil bastard this time. No Quirrel with his weak mind and smelly turban. No cowardly rat faced Wormtail; willing to give up a hand for his lord and master. This time, there would be no coming back. Harry intended to destroy him – once and for all. For that, he would need magic – a lot of magic. For now though he needed to go to classes. Tomorrow, Harry knew his classes would begin. For that, he required the use of his wand. If he did not use his wand in his lessons, people would become suspicious.

His fingers felt the familiar buzz of magic as he held his hand directly over his wand. It was just the same tingle he had felt that first day in Ollivander's shop. That first time he had touched the wonderful wooden stick. However, now it was different. Then again, he was not touching it.

He would have to test his magic before he could use his wand in front of his friends or in classes. He would have to touch it. He would have to hold it. He would have to find his Gryffindor courage and attempt that which he had been afraid of since summer. Harry could not avoid something as simple as taking up his wand. His courage began to wane as he remembered, again, the last time he had tried to do a spell with it; a lot of things had gone to hell.

Taking another deep breath, Harry did not hesitate any longer. He gripped his wand tightly until the knuckles turned white.