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 22 – Night's Call

Nothing happened. For a long moment Harry just sat on the floor of the sixth year boys' dorm of Gryffindor Tower staring at the wand in his hand. The increased tingling and rush of air that indicated a build up of magic and preceded the loss of control he had experienced that terrible day over the summer failed to appear. Frowning slightly, Harry brought the wand near to examine it closely. The expected tickle in the palm of his hand was hardly noticeable, and he could not see the magical aura of his wand. It would take a while for him to become accustomed to it; it left a bitter taste in his mouth. All his attempts to cope with his magic and to get used to it during the summer were wasted now. Everything was different now; he had to start almost from the beginning.

However, it would not do any good, if he went to classes tomorrow or had a run in with Malfoy. It might not be such a good idea to make him explode… splattering all his precious pureblood right across the corridor. It would be a delight to watch him squirm, though. Harry's lips twitched while he looked around to decide what he should do now. He needed to test his wand on something less conspicuous than Malfoy (as pleasant a thought as that might be). His brows rose when his gaze fell onto an especially gross, lumpy bag of Dudley's old shirts in the midst of his trunk.

Grinning playfully, Harry thought the time right to get some decent clothing. Perhaps it would work, if not it was not a tragedy to loose some of those disgusting rags. Thoughtfully, Harry bit his lip. For classes it would be more useful to try it with a whisper, but he would see if his spell casting worked wordlessly nevertheless… for in the corridors. All he had to do was to concentrate, to aim right and carrying out the right wand movement – and hope it would work.

Harry's mouth opened to word the spell. He thought about the correct wand movement and prepared to carry it out when his wand started vibrating visibly. Transfixed, he watched the magic working without him ever actually uttering the words. The shirt started shrinking so rapidly that the cloth was already as small as a hand puppet's when Harry looked at it. With a horrible sound of tearing fabric it was literally ripped into shreds.

Tilting his head, Harry scrutinized the mess he had created with a thoughtful frown. It was not what he had wanted, but it came not unexpected either. For his first real attempt in a long time to alter something other than air using his wand, it was not that bad. At least, his shirt had not exploded, burst into flames or disappeared into nothingness. Blinking tiredly, Harry concluded that perhaps he had a bit more magic left than he had previously thought. It seemed he needed quite a bit of practice, though.

No time like the present. This time Harry concentrated on his magic hoping to control it better. He did not need great amounts of power to perform a simple shrinking spell. He tried to hold the magic in until the appropriate moment; releasing it only after he spoke the last syllable of the spell.

As soon as he set the spell into motion he knew that something was amiss. A frown settled on his face as he looked into the depths of his trunk. Harry took his only other robe from the trunk with two fingers and held it at arms length to observe. It seemed his entire wardrobe was shrunk quite a bit. At least now they would not look like he wore a tent. He had to remember to aim better. Looking down at himself, Harry yawned as he released a sigh of relief. The robes he wore seemed to still be alright. Thank Merlin for small wonders.

At least now his magic did not wreak havoc – well, not as much as before. After all, they were supposed to shrink. He would rather have a miniature classmate then one whose body's parts were ripped apart and scattered all around the room… not counting Malfoy.

Weighing his wand loosely in his hand, Harry thought about his need to practice controlling those little changes in his magic. He knew that he must find the right amount of magic to use with his wand. If he gave only half an ounce to much, it could turn out very bad. He sat back for a moment to think. It was amazing how much of his magic the castle had actually blocked off from him. It was down right scary to think about how much magic he had at his disposal… or did have until today. Where was his limit?

Harry was certain that he could gather even more energy to make his magic work, not necessary for a simple Reducto, but nevertheless. Closing his eyes, Harry felt deep within him the constant throb of magic. It gathered distinctively and filled up the power points he had built to keep it from overflowing.

Deep in thought, Harry followed the paths of energy through his body until they joined in his hands. The sensation made his fingertips tingle – extremely sensitive to touch. Even with his eyes closed, Harry could see the tiny sparks of magic coming off of the tips of his fingers. However, his wand remained dormant; sparks not emanating from his wand as they were supposed to.

It required a great deal of effort and control to convince his magic to flow only through his wand. After all, Harry had found wandless magic a whole lot easier since his magic had changed so surprisingly.

It was simple, really. It was so much easier to allow his own magic to just directly interact with the magic of the object he wanted to change. Even if Harry could not see the magic anymore, now that he knew it was there, it was not hard to imagine his magic interacting with the magic inherent in whatever he aimed his wand at. He had done it for the second part of his summer mostly with success.

The pulse of his magic filled him with pure euphoria. It made him giddy like a child on his first merry-go-round. The rhythm of energy was steady and strong and ran through his whole body over and over again. It was hard to stop gathering even more magic, especially when he really did not want to.

Before Harry could actually halt his magic of his own accord everything suddenly stopped. It was as if a door had closed and he had been separated from his surroundings – from his source. A dull pain throbbed in his veins when no more magic was forthcoming and the continuous flow had been abruptly interrupted.

Harry gritted his teeth and waited for the wave of pain to pass. Apparently, he had reached the point where the castle would close him off from his magic. If he was honest with himself, though, Harry had to admit that – for an instant – he had been at his limit of what he could handle without the danger of loosing control. Frowning, he opened his eyes, his body tingling with magic just within his control.

Harry would have to be careful, but even a tiny part of what he could gather now should be sufficient for most spells he would need to do during the coming school year. Although he felt an intense pleasure holding as much power as he possibly could.

Harry wondered if Dumbledore felt that way whenever he made people dance on strings. Maybe that was the pull Voldemort had felt – this powerful, vibrating energy. One would go crazy holding it in but not releasing it. A lot of people said that Dumbledore had lost his marbles a long way back. And Voldemort? Well it went without saying that there never had been marbles. Harry suddenly realized that he was lucky the castle had intervened. For whatever reason – it had actually taken only that part of his changed magic which prevented him from keeping his head upright.

Harry forced himself to let it return freely to where he had gathered it from. It was with relief he sensed the energy leaving him as it merged back with his surroundings, imbuing everything as it left his body like a soft exhale of air after a deep breath.

Harry noticed he had more control over his net of power points now. It was easier to access the continuous flow without having it erupting over his head, and he still gathered his magic as much from his surroundings as from his own body.

Harry did not think much about that fact at all. Hell, until this summer he had believed magic was magic. Point. Harry did not know if there were different forms of wandless magic or if doing wandless magic did not necessarily mean that one could actively use the surrounding magic. After all, even normal witches' and wizards' magic whirled around their environment searching and interfering with other magic. The only difference between them and Harry was that they did not know of it. They could not see it and as such could not influence the magic. Perhaps, it would be possible for others to draw magic from their surroundings as well if only they were able to see the magic.

Until now, the Red Robes were the only other wizards that Harry was certain could also do it… and possibly the joke of a DADA teacher. He had actively suppressed his aura, which he could not have done if he had not been able to see it.

Harry frowned. He was not oblivious to the fact that wandless magic was said to be really rare, but it could not be that strange an ability. After all, there had been a lot of red robed men in Voldemort's lair He shivered thinking about all of them surrounding him and snake face chanting and waiting for something.

Harry believed those Red Robes were quite a bit stronger than ordinary wizards. Of course they were, they could do wandless magic after all. They had been strong enough to nearly catch him (if Snape had not interfered – again) but they had not even made an effort to do so. Harry only knew of two other people who could do something like that – Dumbledore and of course Tom – otherwise that nice fellow would not be able to even try to escape his prison. However, it was anybody's guess as to why a violation of Harry's mind (when Voldemort had tried to possess him) led to him having suddenly quite the amount of wandless magic for his use with easier access than wand magic.

Had it been another time and involving another matter, Harry would have asked the headmaster first. He could have explained some things. He honestly believed that Dumbledore was able to gather magic from his surrounding. After all, the old man was able to do wandless magic. Harry had no reason to believe otherwise. They had never talked about something like that. Why should they have? There had never been a reason to … and with lots of other secrets the man had held, it would have been questionable if he would have told him anyhow. Now though, those considerations were for naught. Harry could not trust that meddling old coot anymore – never again.

Sighing, he turned his attention back to the task at hand. Harry just needed his magic to work through his wand. As easy as it was to imagine that, having it actually work was a lot harder. His hands shook with exhaustion when the magic flew out of them.

Harry shifted slightly and looked at his shrunken wardrobe. He needed to get them back to normal. Shrinking worked alright, as long as he held his power back a bit, but now how to enlarge them?

Wobbly, Harry straightened himself and concentrated. He drew only a bit of his magic from the power points. He sensed it flowing through the channels, buzzing with energy, into his hands and from them into his wand … into his wand. He frowned, aimed and whispered the correct incantation. There was no sign of his magic working through his wand. It had not worked at all. The magic was still humming in his hands.

His robes had not done anything at all. They were still small enough that they could be used only as a doll's clothes. Harry scoffed. No magic at all, that was even better. In no time there would be rumors of Harry Potter becoming a squib and working hand in hand with Filch and his nosy four legs. Merlin! Harry crumpled the robe in his fist. Why couldn't his magic work for once like it did for other people?

Harry threw the small robe with all his might and watched it with knitted brows lying inconspicuously only a few feet in front of the closed door. It had to be manageable somehow. He had to be able to rely on his magic in some ways at least!

His jaw cracked painfully and he let his eyes fall close for a moment. Rubbing his eyes, Harry decided that after one other attempt to restore his clothes he would call it a night and maybe let Hermione have a go at them. His own magic was no good.

Harry's "Engorgio!" was sharp and went with a short lived, angered swish of his wand when he hurled his magic toward the door to his robe. In the instant in which he felt his wand working – this time he knew he had done it right – Harry was aware that he had messed up again, because the door opened in the same moment.

With a heavy sigh Harry let his eyes fall close and dropped bonelessly backwards. It seemed Harry was not the only one who did not know what to do when he actually tried to actively restrain his magic from working as he was used to.

"I'm sorry, Neville." He breathed without looking at the stunned boy, whose outer robe pooled gracelessly on the ground, to big to not slip above his shoulders when the enlargement charm hit him and did its work.

"Uh,… Harry?" unsure of himself Harry's dorm mate stepped gingerly out of his robes.

"Sorry you took it Neville." Grimacing, Harry lifted himself up to his elbows. "The spell was supposed to hit my robe." Harry pointed to the small cloth in front of his friend's feet. "I have mistakenly shrunken it."

"It's okay, Harry." Swallowing, Neville looked down and fingered his own robe. With both hands the boy held it away from him. "Can you change it back?"

Harry frowned. His magic was quite thoroughly working if he just could get his wand to agree with him. It seemed to be an overall problem. Everything should be fine for the time being. He had to remember in class to use always less magic than he would originally think he had to – a lot less.

"Er… I think it's better you let Hermione do that in the morning." Harry smiled apologetically. "I'm really sorry, Neville. I got a bit carried away." The robe Neville held in his arms was big enough to substitute for the bed hangings.

Fingering his own clothes, which were either to small or to big to wear, Harry hoped he could get them back to normal right before breakfast. Merlin! He just could not concentrate. Throwing his clothes into his trunk, Harry closed the lid and got slowly to his feet.

Neville shrugged silently, his cheeks tinged pink, and set down on his bed. "What were you doing?"

"Practicing, you know?" Harry stood wobbly. He had to catch himself on the post to avoid stumbling to the ground. Laying the wand down on his nightstand, Harry blinked. "Exercising. Just to get the feeling back after those months of doing no magic at all."

"Oh,… I understand." Although it was obvious that Neville did not understand at all. It was probably good that the boy had interrupted. Harry felt dead on his feet.

Harry would have to try his magic again tomorrow when he could sneak away from his friends for a moment. Of course he could always give them to the first year with the little doll, who had been running in circles and cried for her mother. Either way, Harry would hold himself back during the lessons. He needed his wand to work properly before he actually did magic in front of the professors. He could experiment with his wand in the afternoon and the whole weekend. It did not happen often enough, that one was lucky to start the school year on a friday. Only one day of classes and he could take a breath.

Yawning, Harry fell onto his bed. Finally, the day was over and he could try to catch some sleep. Maybe tomorrow his world had a better outlook. He could figure out what the castle had done to him. Breathing deeply, Harry felt his body relax and sinking deeper into the pillows, in his nose the clear smell of clean linen.

"You are not sleeping in your robes, are you?"

"Of course not, Neville." Harry blinked. "I'm just catching my breath." Grumbling inaudibly, he got up again, gathered his nightclothes and pulled his sweater above his head before stopping in mid motion, becoming aware of Neville watching him curiously.

"I think I'll take a shower after all." Harry mumbled and trudged sluggishly towards the bath.

Harry halted only in the shower stall itself, closed the curtain and leaned heavily against the wall, hitting the wall twice with the back of his head and a dull thud. His breath tremulous, Harry changed quickly into his pajamas without anyone getting to see the violet mark on his hip. He had barely remembered in time. For the future Harry needed to think of something to disguise it.

When Harry shuffled back into the dorm Neville had already snuggled up comfortably in his four poster, a plant on his night table (possibly life-threatening) and his toad on his bed-spread, petting it softly with a far away look. For a moment Harry wondered if Trevor was a magical toad, or if those animals generally lived that long. Harry didn't know. His eyes burnt and Harry knew that they looked dangerously red. If just another vessel popped open he thought the blood would start to flow down his cheeks like crimson tears.

"Harry?" Neville ended his thoughts quite abruptly. "Can I ask you something?"

Harry stumbled upon this unexpected disturbance in his quiet world of half dreaming half being. Looking back, Harry blinked in his friend's expectant face and nodded, leaning heavily against the bedpost.

"Sure, but please… tomorrow, Neville." Harry let himself fall onto the bed, again. "I really need to sleep now. Let's talk tomorrow, all right?"

"Okay, Harry." Came it somehow subdued from the other bed, but it did not matter to Harry.

"Merlin!" Relief was obvious in Harry's voice when he lay down and his eyes closed almost without him noticing, not giving a thought about Neville's certainly toad or plant related question.

"G'night, Nev'." Harry murmured sleepily and turned into his sheets, taking his blanket with him to curl himself up comfortingly. He did not even bother to close the curtains.

"Good night, Harry." Neville whispered, watching his dorm mate thoughtfully, but Harry did not hear or see anymore. He was well away in the land of dreams and didn't hear of feel anything for a few highly treasured hours.

When Harry opened his eyes again it had to be in the middle of the night. Darkness pressed down against the high arched windows. The light snoring from the adjoining beds was the only sound other than the dull thumb of Harry's heart.

Faintly, he remembered dreaming about choices to be done, and a sad sense of knowing that there were not any choices. For a moment he blinked into the darkness, tried to determine the shapes that had been transfigured from a starless night. It was not great to dream about choices, when the choice had been made already. But it was a hundred times better than nightmares.

Shrugging inwardly, Harry just turned to the side, pulled his quilt over his head, remembering a time when he was nothing but a small child and thought that ugly monsters with sharp gleaming teeth and incredibly large claws would spring from the shadow to rip apart whatever limb he let slide out of his blankets. It was good to be older and to have left those monsters behind, only that now he had others to deal with. Monsters, frighteningly real.

Did he do the right thing? Harry did not like to doubt himself and his decisions. He would much rather like to say that he had put down the feelings of self-consciousness, his fear to be left alone again. Although, now more than ever, everything seemed to be back.

Laying perfectly still, Harry let himself drift to wherever his thoughts drew him when a faint tingle in his mark left him gasping with surprise. His eyes shot wide open while his mind tried to follow, to catch that peculiar feeling. Was it amusement? The mark flaring up without an interference from Tom was a first.

Since Hogwarts had shut down his magic Harry felt the mark stronger than ever. Although, he still could not pinpoint from where this trace of emotion came from. Certainly not from himself. Not from Tom, either. Harry did not get any echo from Tom, as if he was in hiding. Perhaps Harry would get more often some crazy insight from the bound Death Eaters, now when his magic did not overshadow the connection of the mark.

Frowning, Harry dropped back. His fate presented puzzle over puzzle to him. He just hoped he would live long enough to find the last piece to all of them. Biting his lower lip, Harry curled up shivering.

Was it wrong to be unsure of his future? Was it wrong to fear what would come, or when he thought that he would rather fail in his task? Was it wrong to feel relief? Now, when he did not have to deal with so much power that he could bring more destruction with the magic he held in a tip of his finger than another wizard could work at all.

He had never wanted so much responsibility. When he had thought about a change Harry had hoped to… maybe kill Voldemort… or to be killed, not that he would have to live on with Tom Riddle in his head.

It had him scared to death, because Tom WAS Voldemort, even if Harry tried to suppress that thought vehemently. It was easier to hold Tom, the orphan, into his confines than the man who had brought death and despair to the whole Wizarding World and thought to kill most of the human population on the world.

Was it wrong to be afraid of the moment when the prophecy would finally come true? Harry hugged his pillow firmly in an attempt to draw comfort. He had taken the responsibility for his actions which caused these unforeseen and never wanted consequences. A lot could go wrong along the way, but now there really was not anyone who could take the prophecy into his hands and kill the Dark Lord. Now it really was just Harry and Tom… and neither can live while the other survives.