Chapter 6 – Testing . . . testing . . . 1 . . 2 . . 3
The first lesson in occlumency, if it could be called that, was quite boring. Mac had sat with him for some hours, and just ordered him to take a deep breath and relax, after explaining what would happen. She held his hands, and without uttering any incantation, got into his mind. Surprisingly, Harry did not feel either the invasion or the calling of any memory, in fact, after a few minutes of apparent inactivity, he started to yawn. His eyelids started growing heavy, and he started entering the deeply relaxed state of one ready to sleep. That's when he felt the slight tingle of Mac's probe, but as soon as he noticed it, the feeling vanished.
The sensation was repeated several times in the span of a couple of hours, and Harry noticed that just when he was almost asleep was when he felt the intrusion. When she finished, Harry was surprisingly tired, almost as if he had played a full season of Quidditch in a span of some hours. So Mac took him to bed and let him sleep it off. Thankfully, none of the Dursleys was at home, and Harry managed a few hours of a fitful deep sleep.
He woke up to the sound of the doorbell once again. He opened it after looking through the eyehole, and in a few moments the deliverymen were placing his new bed and closet up in his room. The old ones were put to a side and Harry thanked them, after explaining that he would deal with the old furniture himself. When the men departed, Harry climbed the stairs two steps a time and jumped in his new, extremely comfortable bed, and like a child he never were, bounced on it until he tired of it.
He quickly changed all of his clothes to his new closet, and deciding to risk it a bit, banished the old one with a simple spell. He waited for a few more minutes, impatiently waiting for the owl from the Ministry, and seeing that none appeared, he did the same to the bed. He looked to the room and smiled slightly. Grabbing the animagus manual, he sat once again on the bed and opened the notebook at the bookmark he had made previously. He had arrived in the part where he would have to try and find his animal form, and apparently, by Sirius' writings, it was the most boring part, since it required great concentration and at the same time he needed to be relaxed to find the form.
He repositioned himself, cross-legged like an Indian, took a deep breath and closed his eyes, focusing to the inside and trying to attain the same frame of mind that he did a few hours early, during his occlumency lesson, without falling asleep this time. Harry tried for some minutes, but the only thing he managed was to grow more and more impatient. Seeing it as a failure, he stood up and started pacing the room.
Somewhere else in England, a man entered a dark chamber, the torchlights reflecting on his silver hand. He was trembling like jelly, but no one dared to make his master wait.
He stopped a few feet in front of the throne, head held low, waiting for his master to speak. The man shrouded in darkness, both in an out, looked to his servant with disdain.
"The preparations, Wormtail?" he asked, the voice not sounding entirely human.
"A-all is at ready, my Lord, just waiting for your command," he said, cowering.
"Then send the order," he said. "Leave nothing standing."
"It shall be done, Master," the traitorous animagus said, and fled out of the room.
Amelia Bones arrived home by floo, and as usual, she was bone tired and her feet were killing her. No amount of magic could do with several hours of walking up and down the Ministry, trying to keep the Aurors both with their heads working over their shoulders and to defuse the situations popping up apparently every thirty seconds. Now, every weird sound that a wizard heard in a back alley in the entire British islands was reason to suspect a Death Eater attack, and an Auror was dispatched to check it. So far, none had been true, but she had to authorize a few muggle obliviations because some more short-tempered or scared wizards decided to use their wands instead of their eyes or brains.
She kicked her shoes away and sat on her favorite armchair. A couple of minutes later, her niece appeared, bringing a small pot of tea, two cups and a muscle relaxant potion.
"You're a lifesaver, you know?" Amelia said, to which Susan smiled. She grabbed the potion and drained it in one go, grimacing with the taste. "Muggles should probably do this better."
"I could add sugar, but I don't know if it would alter the properties," Susan said, putting the tray on a side desk, and sitting on the ground, right next to her aunt. "Another bad day?"
"And it will only get worse," the head of Magical Law Enforcement said, sighing. "The first time You-Know-Who attacks, the calls will triple, and we are understaffed and overworked as it is."
"And Fudge? What is he doing?" Susan said, serving them both the tea.
"Trying to cover his own arse," Amelia said. Susan wasn't even a little bit surprised by the cursing, her aunt was an extremely well educated witch, but there were times when the Hogwarts student knew the exact reason why her aunt was one of the most respected officers of the Ministry. She didn't cut any corners, to no one, for no reason. There was even talk that if Fudge were removed, her aunt was the second on the list, just behind Dumbledore.
Susan smiled, bringing the cup to her lips. Before she could take a sip, the fire from the fireplace turned green.
"Are you waiting for. . ." Susan started, but before she could complete the sentence, a black clad man appeared from it. Reacting instantly, Susan threw the scalding hot tea in his face. The man screamed when the liquid burned his eyes and the young woman jumped to the side, unbalancing the armchair and throwing herself and her aunt away from his immediate aim.
Amelia, as soon as she hit the ground, rolled away from the chair, while her wand suddenly appeared from her sleeve. The first Death Eater was mostly disabled, the tea probably did too much damage to his eyes. Amelia stupefied him, but to her distress, the fireplace burned green again.
"RUN!" she screamed to her niece, while she stood up as well. Susan grabbed her own wand from her back pocket and with a scream of "Reducto!" aimed at the top of the mantel, she effectively dealt with two problems. The shower of rocks and dirt hit the Death Eater entering via floo, knocking him out, and the loss of structural integrity made the fireplace crumble on itself, effectively blocking the entrance.
With a moment to breathe, they looked around, but the sound of an explosion near the front door alerted them that the problem wasn't over. Amelia pointed her wand to the unconscious Death Eaters.
"Accio wands," she said, and the magical implements ended up in her hand. With a quick motion, she broke both wands and threw the pieces back to the fireplace rubble. "They're off for good. Now, RUN!"
They ran to the back of the house, straight to the kitchen area. Two spells flew around them, but luckily none hit. With a repeat of the previous idea, Susan aimed her wand to the ceiling of the corridor and the explosive spell made it crumble behind them, blocking the passage for a few seconds.
"We have to clear the anti-apparition ward, Susie," Amelia said.
"The back door must be being watched, auntie," Susan said, while keeping an eye on their backs. Amelia looked around and suddenly an idea popped on her mind.
"Come with me, second door to the right," she said, and they ran to it, a killing curse almost hitting Susan. The Hogwarts student entered first, with Amelia following right behind.
The ex-Auror turned division head screamed, after a curse hit her lower arm. Biting the pain away, she locked the door behind her with her shoulder. "Blow the floor, Susan!"
Susan did not stop to think, the bathroom floor exploded, covering them with pieces of wood, gravel and ceramic, cutting and bruising them severely. "Down!" her aunt screamed, and she jumped in the hole, landing in a darkened room, smelling of dirt and mould. Amelia landed behind her a few seconds later, wobbly standing back on her feet.
"Lumos," Susan said, and the tip of her wand lighted up. They were at the mansion's basement, and the place hasn't been visited or cleaned for a good while now. Amelia grimaced with pain, but checked her surroundings, finally finding what she wanted.
"The closet, at the corner," Amelia said, pointing to an old, rickety looking closet. "The incantation is Portus Revelo."
Susan pointed her wand and said the incantation, and the closet moved to a side, revealing a passage behind it. Amelia ran to it, and Susan followed behind, a Death Eater landing behind them through the hole, but lucky them, he apparently landed wrong and the sound of bones breaking was clearly heard. Once they entered the passage, Amelia ordered Susan to tap the back of the closet with her wand, and the furniture went back to place, closing the passage behind them.
"We're safe for now, the closet is charmed to resist most spells. But run, we have to escape them," Amelia said, grimacing with pain.
They ran for about a minute through the long corridor, the illumination of Susan's wand barely showing them the way. "What is this place, auntie?"
"Later, Susie. I think we're far enough. Grab my arm," Amelia said weakly, and when Susan did, they disappeared with a loud pop.
They reappeared at the apparition point of the Ministry, and Amelia promptly fainted with the effort. Susan grabbed hold of her, and that's when she noticed that her aunt was too white to be natural.
"Auntie, wha…" And she noticed Amelia's lower right arm, or the complete lack of it. She screamed, and in seconds they were surrounded by wizards and Aurors.
Someone with enough presence of mind slapped an emergency portkey to them, and they were whisked away to St. Mungos.
In an unplotted and obscured island, way off coast of Scotland, a man was walking in a set pattern over a high wall, looking to his surroundings with disinterest, the chill of the air being valiantly fought by the heating charms on his robes. He brought his pipe to his lips, taking a deep breath of the scented smoke. He stopped for a moment under a torch, enchanted to not go off with the wind, and checked his pocket watch, smiling when he noticed that he had only fifteen more minutes off in this cursed weather before going back inside.
Being a guard in Azkaban prison was not a good job. Since the dementors fled to work for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the Ministry decided to employ Aurors and Unspeakables to guard the criminals currently serving their sentences at the island. The chilly and scary place was truly the greatest nightmare in the Wizarding world, and not even the lack of their spectral guard did make the place any less fearsome.
He started walking again, looking to the turbulent sea crashing at the rock wall below him.
Suddenly a gust of wind made his robes fly wildly, and he had to turn his back to it for a few moments, till the wind passed. He started feeling cold, and thinking nothing on it, grabbed his wand and re-cast the warming spell. When it didn't work, he tried again, while the cold only got worse. Then the feeling changed to one he had never knew, one of hopelessness.
That's when he turned back to the sea, and suddenly a pair of skeletal hands grabbed his face. He never felt anything again.
Five minutes later, the island was empty of prisoners, the only thing left behind were human bodies that functioned, but had nothing left of their souls.
Harry dined with his relatives, under the withering glare of his aunt and uncle, but he simply wasn't caring. Dudley was silent as well, and by the looks of it, he was still too surprised with everything that Harry had told him. After he finished, he politely excused himself and went back to his room.
His scar was annoying him a bit, and it probably meant that Voldemort was stretching his wings, now that he had been discovered. The wizard started pacing, but being stuck inside a small room was starting to affect him, so he decided to do something about it. He grabbed some socks, his tennis shoes, and in a minute he was going downstairs and out of the front door.
"Who's out there?" he asked to the apparently empty night.
"That would be me, Harry," said a black shaven-head man, with a gold earring in one ear, who appeared from behind an invisibility cloak.
"Hello, Auror Shacklebolt. I'm going for a run. Care to join me?" Harry asked, warming up with some motions he had used for Quidditch practice.
The Senior Auror and member of the Order of the Phoenix shrugged, and transformed his robes in something more appropriate for the exercise, using what Harry was wearing as a template for his own clothes.
"You sure this is appropriate, Harry?" he asked, almost imitating the movements the young wizard was doing.
"I'm feeling cramped in there," he said, pointing to his back, but decided to hide the fact that the scar was hurting slightly. "Since I can't go very far, running a few times around the block sounds like the best option. Let's go?"
"Sure," the Auror answered, following the young man.
They started at a quick pace during the first lap, which covered four blocks around the residential neighborhood. They passed in front of Arabella Figg's home, and Harry noticed Dudley´s old gang hidden in the porch of an empty house, smoking. They noticed Harry as well, but the presence of the big auror following behind him curtailed any attempt they might have in their small minds.
The second lap was faster, and completed in less time, the pain in his forehead being quickly supplanted by the pain in his legs. By the time they passed the empty house again, the gang was gone. Third time they gathered a few looks from the curious neighbors. Fourth time was in an all out run-for-your-life pace, where they both ended panting heavily in front of Harry's house.
Kingsley conjured two bottles of water, and they waited for their breaths to normalize to speak again.
"That . . . was awful," Harry said, panting.
"I thought . . . I was in shape. . . but I can see I'm. . . not. Good. . . thing we can apparate . . . or else . . . I'd be. . . in a bad spot," Shacklebolt said, his head covered in sweat.
Harry looked in his direction, removing his slippery glasses for a moment. "What if you can't?" he asked.
"Can't what?"
"Apparate. Suppose you have to fight in Hogwarts, no one can apparate in its grounds. You'd have to run up and down all over the school," Harry said, finally managing to control his breath.
"That's why you are running? Do you think You-Know-Who will attack the school?" the auror asked, eyes wide.
"I won't put anything past Voldemort at this point, besides, he already attacked there, using his cunning. Now that he's revealed himself, I think it is likely he'll go full out against us. After all, we are his greatest enemies," Harry said, drying his nose with the edge of his t-shirt so he could put his glasses back in place.
"That's probably true. I think I'll talk with Scrimgeour about it, perhaps we can set some running to our physical training routine."
"Who's Scrimgeour?" Harry asked.
"Rufus Scrimgeour is the head of Auror Division, my direct superior."
Harry filed this particular piece of information to the back of his planning head. "Could you arrange something with Dumbledore so I could run at nights?" he gambled with the auror.
Kingsley thought it over for a few moments. "Let me see what I can do, if I can't set up so you can run every night, I think that either me or Tonks would be up for the challenge," he said smiling, but then stiffened slightly and removed a pendant held in a thin chain from inside his shirt. "I'm being recalled to the Ministry for some reason. I'll have to go, but don't worry, I'll send someone to keep watch as soon as I can. Please, stay in tonight, okay?" he pleaded.
Harry nodded. "Good luck, Shacklebolt," he said, already at the door's threshold. "If you could ask for your substitute to tell me what happened . . ."
"I'll try. Stay in, please," he said and apparated away, without even transfiguring his clothes back to normal.
Harry busied himself with the animagus manual for a few hours, the dull pain in his forehead disabling any attempt at anything more serious. Suddenly, his cell phone rang, and he jumped from the bed to pick it up.
"Harry?" came the voice of Imogen from the small device.
"What happened, Immie?" he asked, worried.
"Well, I managed to set up the reading of the will for tomorrow at ten AM, at Gringotts. I've already spoken with Mr. Lupin earlier today, and he agreed. You up for it?"
Harry sighed. "To be honest, no, I'm not, but I don't have a choice, do I? Sure, I'll be waiting for you."
"I'll be arriving around nine thirty. Sorry to put you through this. . ." the lawyer said, the sadness clear in her voice.
"Not your fault. If someone is to blame it is…"
"Voldemort, Harry. He's the murderer, not you," she completed, before he could start wallowing in self-pity.
Harry sighed again. "Yeah, you're right. It was just tharrrrghhh! GAH!" he screamed on the phone, the sudden lancing pain in his scar making him fold in half.
"HARRY! HARRY!" Imogen screamed in the phone for a few seconds.
Harry wasn't coherent enough to form an answer, just to whimper while his brain burned with pain.
A/N: Ahh, cliffie. I don't usually do those, but here it is. Now to my not so extensive author notes:
Bobmin356: I do love your stories, I reccomend to everyone to check them out. All of them. But to answer a question, I've read the lexicon previously, and they make no mention to Hermione's parents names. People just generally assume that is Dan an Emma, I decided to go another venue. And I do love your stories, it bears repeating.
stormryder77: I couldn't reply to your private e-mail, but yes, Mac is the same one from the Journeyverse, we are good friends, and she's loving the story so far. I did the character with her blessing, btw.
And next installment, Dudley will have the fallout of his change of heart with Harry. But until there, reviews are always welcome.
BigHead