Disclaimer: I don't own anything except the plot. Harry Potter™ is the sole intellectual property of JK Rowling, Warner Bros. and various others who all aren't connected to me in any way. No money is being made with this fanfiction and no copyright infringement is intended.
§ ¤ § Chapter Fourteen: Pressing On § ¤ §
"Harry, please eat something!"
"I'm not hungry," Harry mumbled at Hermione, pushing his untouched breakfast around with a fork. He was getting rather tired of this conversation by now—they'd had it several times already.
"Hermione's right, mate," Ron said quietly. "You've eaten barely anything these past two weeks."
Harry didn't answer or even look up at them. He'd tried explaining himself already, and knew that it wouldn't work. They didn't understand . . . how could they? And how could they even stand eating after KayKay had died?
"Harry," Hermione ventured softly, "I know that you feel horrible, but—"
Harry sighed, having heard the same speech several times already by now. " 'But starving yourself won't bring KayKay back.' I know, Hermione!" he snapped, slamming down his fork and nearly knocking over a glass of orange juice.
"Then please, just—"
"You don't get it, do you?" Harry interjected. "Neither of you do! So just give it a rest!"
"We're just trying to help, mate," Ron spoke up defensively. "So—"
"If you want to help me, leave me alone!" Harry interrupted. He got to his feet before either of them could protest and left the Great Hall, ignoring the whispers that followed him.
It had been this way since classes had started—hushed conversations in the corridors, clusters of students with their heads bent together at mealtimes, surreptitious glances towards Harry, Madison, Hermione, and Ron. It was starting to drive him mad, watching all the other students regard KayKay's death as a topic for gossip or—in the case of some of the Slytherins—an amusing tale!
Five days of classes hadn't really been enough for the reality of KayKay's absence to fully sink in. The seat she normally occupied in many classes still remained empty and a few of the teachers still called her name during roll call, only to stop partway through the task and look either slightly confused (in Professor Flitwick's case) or abashed (in Professor McGonagall's case).
Harry was, quite frankly, grateful for the arrival of Saturday. For two days he could avoid the awkward pauses and uncomfortable moments of silence that occurred whenever KayKay was mentioned by accident.
Turning through a doorway and mounting the steps towards the Owlery, Harry felt his momentary anger at Ron and Hermione slowly subsiding. He knew that they really did mean well, but—they just didn't seem to understand him and why he couldn't move past KayKay's death.
Harry pushed open the heavy wooden door and sighed to himself for no particular reason. He felt like he was trying to walk up an escalator that was going down—he kept moving, but he wasn't going anywhere. He was simply trapped in the same spot.
A flutter of wings interrupted his thoughts as Hedwig flew down from the rafters, hooting softly. Harry held out his arm for her to perch on.
"I'm sorry, Hedwig," he said quietly as he stroked her. "I haven't got anything for you to deliver."
Hedwig hooted again, then flew away, landing on the floor a few yards away and looking back at him beckoningly.
Harry was slightly taken aback—Hedwig had never acted in this fashion before. He took a few steps closer and she fluttered away again, leading him towards the farthest corner of the Owlery. Several clusters of owls blocked his view of whatever it was that she was so intent on showing him.
Harry skirted the desk set up against the wall and it was then that he heard it. There was a soft sniffling noise; somebody was crying. Someone else was in the room, someone that was most definitely not an owl—and he had a pretty good idea of who it was.
"Madison?" he asked softly, ducking under a particularly low beam supporting several sleeping owls. She looked up quickly, then, seeing him, looked back down. Casey was with her, with her head in Madison's lap.
"Hi Harry," she said glumly, petting Casey. "What are you doing up here?"
"I could ask you the same question," he said, sitting down across from her. "I sure haven't seen much of you this week. Do you plan on joining us during mealtimes again?"
"Right, and get the third degree from Hermione again?" Madison scoffed. "Besides, aren't you being a bit hypocritical?" she added, raising an eyebrow.
Harry sighed and stroked Hedwig. "They don't get it."
"I know," Madison agreed quietly. "At leas you're not with the Slytherins, though. It's been horrible since I had to go back to the dormitory. And I'm afraid to leave Casey there alone."
"They'd do something to Casey?" Harry asked with slight surprise.
"Where have you been, Harry? They'd do anything they could get away with to hurt a muggle-born or 'blood-traitor.' You know that, you've seen how they've been this week."
Harry shook his head as he recalled some of the snide comments he'd overheard. "I still say that Dumbledore should have let you stay in Gryffindor Tower."
"Harry," Madison said, sounding exasperated, "do you honestly think that any of the other Gryffindors would even consider letting a Slytherin stay in their dormitory? Even staying during Christmas Break was pushing it."
Harry opened his mouth to reply when an owl soared through the window and landed on his knee, extending its leg.
"That's strange," Harry said, untying a letter from the owl's leg. "The owl post already arrived this morning . . ."
The owl flew back out the window, and Harry slit the letter open. He immediately recognized the fine writing to be Dumbledore's.
"Hey!" he said after he'd scanned it quickly, startling Madison. "Listen to this."
"Harry," he read, "Please meet me in my office as soon as possible, along with Madison Jacobs. I have something that I must discuss with the both of you. Sincerely, Albus Dumbledore."
Harry lowered the letter. Madison looked puzzled.
"With me? Why with me?"
"I don't know," Harry said honestly, turning the page over to see if there was anything else written. There wasn't.
"You—you don't think Hermione—"
"No, she wouldn't go to Dumbledore just because of breakfast," Harry said with much more confidence than he felt. Would she?
"Then what?" Madison asked.
"I don't know," Harry confessed, shoving the letter into his pocket, "but there's one way to find out. Let's go."
He stood up, brushing off his jeans. "Coming?" he asked Madison, holding out a hand to help her up. She sighed, and then took it, tugging on Casey's leash.
"Come on, girl," she said to the forlorn dog. "Let's go for a walk."
The small brigade left the Owlery, descending the stairs and turning in the direction of the Headmaster's office.
"Chocolate Frog," Madison said to the stone gargoyle that blocked the door. It sprang into action, jumping aside to grant them entry to the moving staircase. It took a bit of coaxing to convince Casey to follow them, but soon enough they were facing the door to Dumbledore's office. Before Harry could knock, a voice from within called, "Come in, come in."
Harry and Madison exchanged one final look of apprehension, then Harry pushed the door open.
Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, looking at a book. There were two empty seats in front of him, which he indicated with a nod of his head. Harry and Madison sat down and Casey curled up on the floor between the two chairs.
"I'm sure you're both wondering why I've asked you here today," Dumbledore started, closing the book. Both teenagers nodded, looking down at their hands. "First of all, I wish again to tell you both how very sorry I am. I know that the past two weeks have been hard on you since you lost KayKay."
Neither of them protested this fact. Still, Dumbledore paused before continuing.
"I also wish to apologize for the precarious position that this places you in, Madison."
Harry and Madison both looked up quickly.
"What?" Madison asked. Harry, however, was beyond asking 'what.' Dumbledore was holding out his book for Madison to take, and Harry finally recognized it.
It was Godric Gryffindor's journal.
"Professor, you can't!" Harry exclaimed, jumping to his feet. Madison looked at him bewilderedly.
"Can't what?" she asked, clutching the journal. He didn't answer her.
"KayKay died!" he said angrily. "KayKay died, and now you expect Madison to take on that same burden and get killed too?"
"What?" Madison asked.
"Is that what you want?" Harry demanded. "Do you want Madison to be next? Do you think Voldemort wouldn't notice!"
"Sit down," Dumbledore said evenly. There was a commanding force in his words, and before Harry could stop himself, he was back in his seat.
"Of course I don't want Madison to die," he said, looking Harry in the eye. "Furthermore, I don't expect her to take KayKay's place—I'm asking her to. And no, I do not think Voldemort would notice, for the simple reason that Voldemort has no inkling that Madison is related to KayKay."
"And how long will that last?" Harry said. "Don't you think that Voldemort might begin to wonder why I'm still able to use my powers?"
"Harry, this choice is not yours to make," Dumbledore said patiently.
"Well why not?" Harry snapped. "Why is it always—""Harry, you were marked at birth as a changing force—a backbone for our world. With that power comes certain obligations, none of which you asked for, but one which asks whether you will take the path that's right or the path that's easy. What would you say?"
He paused to give Harry an opportunity to answer. When he said nothing, Dumbledore continued, "What did KayKay say?"
Harry crossed his arms over his chest and didn't look at the Headmaster. KayKay had done what was right by her, and he knew it . . . but if he'd taken Voldemort's offer, it wouldn't have been easy for him, or right. KayKay had to make the decision for him to resolve the paradox—but Dumbledore obviously wouldn't allow Harry to make Madison's choice for her.
She'd say yes . . . he knew she would . . . and he couldn't stand to see another person that was close to him die.
"Ah . . . excuse me, Professor," Madison said quietly, breaking the silence. "But what exactly is it that you're asking me to do?"
Harry looked back again, and Dumbledore sighed. "You do know about the powers that Harry and KayKay shared?"
"A—a little," Madison stammered. "Not much, though."
"Then I suppose I should start from the beginning," Dumbledore said. Harry settled back into his chair, sensing a long story (which he of course had already heard).
"Long ago," Dumbledore began, "When magic was new and there were many less who obtained it, there was one great power.
"This power was . . . invincible, one could say. Whoever possessed it had any and every power at their immediate disposal, without even having the use of a wand. And, if their heart was pure . . . they could not be killed. But naturally, with such power available for their use, people with a kind heart were few and far between. In fact, the most recent was Godric Gryffindor himself.
"Most others became power-hungry and ruthless, and therefore met their end rather quickly. When they died, their powers would pass to the child of theirs that was most worthy. If they had no children, it would pass to a sibling. If there was no sibling or child alive, I assume the powers would have gone either to someone of random, unless, of course, somebody had the blood of the deceased power-owner. It would transfer to them, if that were the case."
He leaned closer to Madison. "That's where you come in. You and KayKay shared the same grandparents so, in essence, you share the same blood.
"This matter of blood is another piece of evidence that suggests that Voldemort is unaware of your relation to KayKay. Harry told me himself that Voldemort examined KayKay's blood several times during their confrontation—which suggests that he was working to 'possess' her blood."
Sitting back in his chair, Dumbledore continued. "It so happens that Godric Gryffindor was not only the last good wizard to wield these powers, but that he was the last to ever use them. His wife gave birth to twins. These twins were identical in almost every way, the only exception being that one of them was a Squib.
"Now, you should be informed that the powers seem to have independent thought. Rather than go to one twin over the other, the powers split in a rather curious way. All power is made mainly of two things: defense and attack. While the magical twin obtained the defense powers, the twin void of magic obtained the attack powers. Ever since, the powers have been passed in the same fashion as before, but never have they been used—since they were not complete, it was impossible.
"This is where the two of you come in. You are both descended from Godric Gryffindor, however distantly. The twin who had become the 'Defender' is related to Harry. He received his powers from his father.
"Madison, your family was a bit different. Uncomfortable with not being able to do magic, the second twin married into a Muggle family. No descendants since have had any magic, until, of course, Remus, KayKay, and yourself. KayKay and you are descended from the squib twin, the 'Fighter'."
He folded his hands, clearly finished. Madison stared at him for a long moment before asking, "Where do you learn all this stuff!"
Dumbledore chuckled. "When you've been alive as long as me, you learn a great deal."
"Professor," she said slowly, "you said that the pure of heart can't be killed when they have these powers. Why is Godric Gryffindor dead then?"
Harry blinked in surprise. "And KayKay?" he added angrily.
Dumbledore sighed yet again. "Harry, have you forgotten all that you've learned with KayKay? The powers only function when joined."
Harry slumped in his seat.
"And as for Godric Gryffindor," he said, tapping the book in Madison's hands, "the answer is in here."
Madison held up the leather-bound tome. "What is it?"
"His journal," Dumbledore answered. "I would like you to read it—that is, if you feel that you're ready for such a burden."
"Professor—" Harry started. Madison interrupted.
"I'll do it."
§ ¤ § ¤ § ¤ § ¤ § ¤ § ¤ § ¤ § ¤ §
"Harry, will you please just stop it?" Madison snapped after hearing Harry huff angrily for the umpteenth time.
"Stop what?"
"You know perfectly well what—you've been in a mood since we talked to Dumbledore last Saturday, and I'm getting sick of it!" she said, shutting Gryffindor's journal with a snap and slamming it down on the library table.
"Do you expect me to be glad that you're about to do the same thing that got KayKay killed?" Harry burst out savagely. "Dumbledore is mad, expecting so much! Since when is it up to us to die because everyone else is too scared to go up against Voldemort?"
Madison leaned in across the table to close the distance between them. "Do you expect me to say that it's right for us to be the ones who have to do this? Do you expect me to say that it's right that KayKay died? Do you—"
Someone cleared her throat loudly. Madison and Harry both looked up to see Madam Pince scowling down at them.
"Out," she ordered, pointing at the door. Madison gathered up her papers and books and shoved them in her bag as quickly as possible, slipping out of the library just behind Harry. She waited until they were halfway down the hall before continuing on her rant.
"Has it occurred to you that maybe, just maybe, you could be a little more helpful with this?" she said. "You and KayKay are—were—used to this sort of thing. . . . You were used to having things happen to you, you've both always been strong, and brave, and—"
She stopped, not wanting to admit that this entire fiasco, that these "Powers of Light and Darkness" frightened her. KayKay and Harry had always emanated an air of destiny, of something-meant-to-be, and Madison couldn't feel anything like that inside of her, whether she had these powers or not.
"Strength? Bravery? Where did they get KayKay?" Harry asked angrily. "They got her killed, that's what! And maybe if I—if I'd had them too . . . she wouldn't be dead right now."
Without a word, Madison grabbed Harry by the back of his robes and dragged him into a secret passageway behind a tapestry.
"Hey!" he exclaimed in shock, "What are you—"
"What are you trying to say, Harry?" Madison growled, shoving him around to face her. "Are you saying that you would've accepted Voldemort's offer if KayKay hadn't smashed the antidote!"
"Yes—no—I don't know!" Harry said quickly. Madison made a noise of exasperated disbelief and leaned back against the wall behind her, raking her hands through her hair. "But now I have to do something, he has to pay for what he did! And I am not going to let one of my friends get killed in the process!"
"As noble as that is, has it ever occurred to you, Harry, that you're not the only one who wants to avenge KayKay's death?" Madison exclaimed. "I can help you—but only if you help me. Listen, I agreed to do this for a reason—not for me, not for you, but for KayKay, so that her death wouldn't be in vain."
"How does this have anything to do with—"
"She died for you, Harry!" Madison shouted. She could tell by Harry's shocked expression that he'd never even considered this concept.
"She could have lived," she added quietly. "She knew there was an antidote, and that you were willing to get it for her—but she chose instead to save you from Voldemort, from yourself."
Harry was opening and closing his mouth noiselessly, as if trying to grasp this deep idea.
"If I didn't try to help . . . if we just quit, then what was her sacrifice for?" Madison asked gently, swallowing hard to keep herself from crying. "What will it have accomplished?"
Harry blinked several times. "She—I never—sh-she shouldn't have—"
"Oh, Harry," Madison sighed, pulling him into a tight hug, for his sake as much as her own. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said it like that . . ." a single tear escaped her, but she brushed it away quickly, and no more fell.
Harry shuddered as he sighed, and Madison thought she felt a tear hit her shoulder, but she couldn't be sure.
"Harry, I'm going to need you to help me if we're going to do this. I can't handle it all by myself."
"You won't have to handle it all by yourself," he replied. "I promise."
Madison released him and stepped back, bending to pick up her abandoned bag. It was altogether bizarre; in less than a year, she'd changed from an independent—and cruel—girl with no companions to a girl who not only had friends, but had friends who she mourned over, mourned with, and would die for.
Being so involved with life was still somewhat new to her. She was still hesitant to throw herself into it and allow it to drag her along, like a strong river, but she was slowly easing herself in, one step at a time.
And it was the most painful, awful, wonderful feeling she'd ever experienced.
¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤
"Now, the Revealing Charm, though a simple spell—you learned it in Fifth Year Charms, right?"—There was a murmur of assent from the Defense Against the Dark Arts students—"Yes, I thought so—is a powerful tool against Dark Wizards or Dark Magic."
Brian—no, Professor Kingstaff, as Madison reminded herself—wandered the aisles as he spoke.
"This spell can be used to reveal secret passageways or hideouts. If the charm is performed strongly enough, it can even shatter a Glamour or other magical disguise.
"I'd like you to split into pairs and practice using Concealing Charms on some of your school items to make them look like different objects, then let your partner cast the Revealing Charm to bewitch them back. Once you have the hang of it, let me know, and I'll see if you're ready to tackle Glamours."
Chatter broke out around the room as students found partners and moved to new seats around the room. Ron and Hermione immediately formed a pair, which, quite frankly, was perfectly all right with Madison. Hermione had become unbearable since Christmas. She couldn't seem to see things exactly the way she and Harry did.
But, then again, Madison had no idea how much Harry had told her and Ron about the night that it happened.
Beside her, Harry was pulling items out of his bookbag—broken quills, scraps of parchment, textbooks—and bewitching them (with only slight difficulty). Sighing and deciding that she'd better get on with it, Madison began rifling through her bag. Considering that she was a bit tidier than Harry and a lot less prepared than Hermione, there wasn't much to choose from.
A bottle of ink and a quill, a spare piece of parchment meant to be a letter to her mom (all it had so far was the date in the top corner: January 23) that she'd begun the night before. . . . And Godric Gryffindor's journal.
Sighing at this meager grouping, Madison began to bewitch them. Hopefully, Harry would get it right on his first or second try.
"Hey!" she exclaimed suddenly after turning her quill into a tube of lipstick. Harry, who'd been concentrating on Quidditch Through the Ages, looked at her quickly.
"What?"
"Doesn't it seem a bit . . . quiet to you?" she asked. He looked at her incredulously; no surprise, seeing how the room was filled with noisy chatter and popping noises (accompanied by frequent explosions) as students cast their charms, some with more success than others.
"I mean," she amended, "doesn't it seem like something's missing?"
They both glanced around the room. Madison saw many of the same situations as was normal for Defense Against the Dark Arts—whatever Neville was try to bewitch was smoking and emitting a high-pitched whine, so nothing was amiss there. . . . Hermione was hastily lecturing Ron on how he was waving his wand, that was perfectly normal . . .
"The radio!" she said, pointing to where it was half-buried beneath student essays on Brian's desk.
During practical lessons, Brian usually left the radio playing some sort of fun music—swing, jazz, dark classical . . .
"Come to think of it, has he played the radio at all since—since classes started up again?" Harry asked.
"No," Madison said in slight surprise, looking over at Brian, who was attempting to fix whatever Neville had done to his book. He (Brian, of course, not Neville) must have been having a hard time coping with KayKay's absence as well.
Sighing to herself, Madison turned her attention back to her last item and bewitched it with a twirl of her wand, making it appear that the only things she had on her desk were a Dungbomb, a Sickle, a tube of lipstick, and a Which Broomstick? catalogue.
"After you," she said to Harry, indicating her items. Harry straightened a bit in his seat and performed the wand motion for the nonverbal charm—a violent slashing motion. With a soft crack! the Sickle let out a great plume of violet smoke. Looking slightly alarmed, Harry tried again quickly.
This time it worked, and the blank letter appeared in its place (though it was tinged purple from the smoke).
"Nice!" Madison said, sincerely impressed. The Dungbomb (ink bottle) was next, and the tube of lipstick (quill) quickly followed after.
Strangely, though, when Harry reached the Which Broomstick? catalogue, he had more trouble. The magazine didn't start issuing smoke—it just stubbornly refused to change.
Madison raised a quizzical eyebrow at it, and Harry scowled in concentration. His wand movements became sharper and more agitated.
"Problems, Harry?" Brian asked. Apparently he'd noticed the difficulty he'd been having.
"I got all of the others . . ." Harry said, still focusing on the catalogue, "but this one is just . . . different."
Both he and Brian looked at Madison, who raised her hands defensively.
"Hey, I didn't do it . . . I used the same charm for all of them!" she exclaimed.
"Do you mind if I give it a try?" Brian asked Harry and Madison.
"No, go ahead," Harry said, gesturing to the catalogue unknowingly. Madison could do nothing but nod helplessly.
She was beginning to get the feeling that it wasn't such a good idea to bewitch Godric Gryffindor's journal.
Brian pulled out his wand and performed the Revealing Charm, yielding no greater results than Harry had.
He looked perplexed. "Hmmm . . ." he said almost to himself. Then, "Well, whatever you did, it's a very strong Concealing Charm. And you're right, Harry, it seems almost archaic. . . . Ten points for Gryffindor," he said. There was another explosion from Neville's vicinity, and Brian turned to go sort out whatever catastrophe had occurred.
"Oh, and out of curiosity," he said, turning back briefly, "what was it that you bewitched?"
"A . . . journal," she said awkwardly, seeing no way around it. Harry turned and looked at her sharply, and Brian merely nodded, turning his attention to the small fire that had erupted on Neville's desk.
"Come on, put it out, you are a wizard after all . . ." he said encouragingly as he hurried away. Harry opened his mouth to say something, but at that moment, the bell rang.
Giving Harry no opportunity to speak, Madison swept all of the items on her desk into her bag and swung it over her shoulder, hurrying out of the room while staring dismally at the Which Broomstick? she clutched in her hands.
"Oh boy . . ." she muttered to herself, flipping through the pages with anxiety. Nothing remotely pertaining to Godric Gryffindor was contained within it—unless, of course, you counted the special instructions on how to order an item to be delivered at Hogwarts.
"What—did—you—do?" Harry hissed in her ear.
"Hey, look! Free shipping on apparel orders that total ten Galleons or more!" she said, pointing to the bold headline on a page of Quidditch gloves in a final attempt to distract him.
Harry snatched away the catalogue. "You transfigured Godric Gryffindor's journal!" he exclaimed quietly so no one else would hear.
"It's not like I meant to!" she argued.
"What, your wand slipped and just happened to bewitch the only link we have to the last guy that ever possessed our powers!" he asked, shaking it in her face.
"Listen, Harry," she snapped, grabbing the catalogue back and batting his hand away, "we have to go see Dumbledore after dinner and start practicing—why worry about it now? We'll just bring the journal with and tell Dumbledore what happened, he'll fix it."
Harry made a noise somewhere between fury and exasperation, but said nothing further.
They entered the Great Hall and sat towards the end of the Gryffindor table. The other Gryffindors, though not pleased with Madison's unrelenting presence, were at least resigned to it. This was probably only because she and Harry were Seventh Years, and because she was a less-than-typical Slytherin, but it suited her all the same.
Harry spooned some spaghetti onto his plate, then handed the bowl to Madison, who did the same. After setting the bowl aside, Madison stared at her plate for a long time, still lacking any appetite. Harry was surveying his food in the same manner.
She sighed. "We did have a deal. . . ." she said.
" . . . I'll eat if you'll eat," Harry finished for her. Madison began her meal meekly.
It was in this same manner that they'd been forcing themselves to take meals for the past few days now. Though their reluctance didn't quite please Hermione, the fact that they were eating seemed to placate her (though it still didn't do anything to reconcile her relationship with Madison).
When they'd eaten what they could (which barely fulfilled Hermione's standards), Harry said, "Should we go, then?"
Madison nodded and was about to stand when an owl swooped down to the table and dropped off a letter. Harry read it quickly, then handed it wordlessly to Madison.
Harry & Madison,
Please accept my apologies. Urgent business concerning the Ministry of Magic has come up and I will be unable to make our meeting this evening. Please proceed with your practice.
Sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore
" 'Urgent business concerning the Ministry of Magic'? Since when has the Ministry been urgent about anything?" Madison asked incredulously.
"Don't know," Harry said, shrugging helplessly, as he took the paper and scanned it once more. His lips silently formed the words 'urgent business' as he glanced over it.
"Well," he said abruptly, folding the paper and putting it in his pocket, "let get to it, then."
§ ¤ § ¤ § ¤ § ¤ § ¤ § ¤ § ¤ § ¤ §
Madison dropped Harry's hands and flopped into an empty desk. "Is something supposed to be happening?" she asked peevishly.
Harry stared at his hands in slight confusion. "Well . . . yeah. I don't get it. . . ."
It was Sunday afternoon and they still hadn't made any progress in developing their powers. Harry wasn't sure whether this frustrated Madison or him more—Madison didn't even have any idea what she was supposed to be doing or what she was waiting for, but Harry knew what he was looking for and consistently couldn't find it. On their first few attempts, this didn't bother him in the least, but it was now their third day of practicing, and they were both getting increasingly frustrated.
"I would think that at least you'd know what was going on!" Madison snapped as Harry sat down.
"Hey, I'm doing the best I can here!" he argued.
"Well, do better!"
"This isn't exactly a one-person job, you know! You could try a bit harder," Harry said defensively.
"Oh, right, suddenly I'm supposed to know everything that you already know about this stuff!" Madison crossed her arms over her chest and muttered darkly, "No wonder KayKay was always so mad at you—you're impossible!"
Harry, who'd already opened his mouth for a sharp retort, closed it quickly, turning his head away from Madison and glaring at a desk a few yards away. He tried to ignore the sharp sting that her words made, the same way he'd tried (and failed) to ignore the pain a week earlier when she'd told him that KayKay had died for him.
"I'll see you tomorrow in class," Harry mumbled, getting to his feet without meeting Madison's gaze.
"Oh, so that's it, then? You're just going to quit trying?" Madison said. "So much for the rest of the wizarding world, Harry Potter isn't in the mood to give it another shot," she mocked.
"Shut up!" Harry snapped, turning to face her as he felt his anger flare, "Just—"
"Now you listen to me, Potter!" Madison said, suddenly right in front of him. Harry had barely even seen her get up. "You feel betrayed—sure, I can understand that—you feel lost—makes sense—you even feel abandoned—of course! But there is no reason," she forced him into a desk chair with a hand on his shoulder, "no reason to give up and let it dominate you!"
Harry started to stand up but Madison shoved him back into his seat.
"Don't you get it? By giving up and turning your back on all of this, it doesn't make you any less betrayed, or lost, or abandoned . . . it just means you're hiding your face and ignoring the fact instead of finding your way back and confronting your problems!"
Harry tried to stand up again, "Get out of my way."
"No," she said firmly, not removing her hand from his shoulder, "not until you listen to me."
"I don't need to! You know, you're just like Hermione. I thought you understood what it feels like, having lost KayKay, but I guess you're just as prepared as she is to say that I'm stupid for not being able to just move on as if it never—"
He cut off abruptly, unconsciously bringing a hand to his cheek—Madison had just slapped him.
"Don't say that, don't you ever say that!" she exclaimed furiously, yanking her wand out of her robes. "Do you honestly think that I'm that callous, that I could say something like that? I'm not calling you a wimp for feeling horrible about KayKay's death—"
"Oh yeah?" Harry countered, pulling out his wand as well.
"Yeah, I'm calling you a wimp for giving up so fast!" she exclaimed, glaring at him.
Without even stopping and considering what he was doing, Harry raised his wand. "Stupefy!"
Madison was quick. "Protego!" The spell bounced off of her shield and ricocheted to the ceiling.
"Expelliarmus!" Harry shouted. This time, Madison wasn't so fast. The spell knocked her from her feet and sent her flying backwards where she crashed into a cluster of desks. Before Harry could even consider what to say or do next, the door to the abandoned classroom they were using flew open with a bang to reveal Professor McGonagall.
"What's going on here?" she demanded, the point of her hat quivering dangerously as she scowled at both of them.
Harry glanced over at Madison, expecting her to come up with one of her convincing excuses. She, however, said nothing, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand while glaring at Harry from her new position on the floor.
"We were just . . . talking," Harry said lamely, painfully aware of the fact that his wand was in plain view.
"Oh, really? And does talking always involve sending somebody across an unused classroom? Ten points from Gryffindor, Potter."
"What? But I—she—she started it!" he pointed accusingly at Madison.
McGonagall looked sharply at her. "Jacobs, did you send a curse at Potter?"
"No, but that's not my fault. If I'd had more time . . ." she trailed off threateningly, not yielding in her harsh gaze.
"Back to your common room, Jacobs," Professor McGonagall instructed. Madison got to her feet and marched out of the classroom pausing only to snatch her wand away from Harry. He sighed, watching her retreating back. What had just happened?
McGonagall was glowering at him. "Potter, Gryffindor Tower. Now."
He stuffed his wand back into his pocket and hurried out of the classroom, trying to figure out exactly why he and Madison had gone from working together to jinxing each other, and if the reason was the same as the one that had made KayKay despise him for so long.
§ ¤ § ¤ § ¤ § ¤ § ¤ § ¤ § ¤ § ¤ §
Madison purposely avoided Harry the whole week following their argument. Oh, she still sat next to him in class and partnered with him during activities, but it was only because she had no one lese to partner with that she did so.
It was on the last day of the month (a Friday) that Madison sat in History of Magic with her chin propped in her hand. A few seats ahead of her, Hermione was scribbling notes furiously as Professor Binns droned on in his ancient monotone voice. Next to Hermione, Ron fiddled with a quill, alternately peeking at her notes and staring into space.
Two seats to Madison's left, Harry was doodling on a piece of paper and tapping his foot in concentration. Whatever he was doing, he was intent on it, which meant it most certainly wasn't The-Merlin-Knows-Which Goblin War.
The seat between Madison and Harry was still empty—a tribute to KayKay that they really hadn't made on purpose. Madison sighed inwardly and imagined what this class would've been like had KayKay been there. They probably would've been passing a paper back and forth to each other as a running conversation.
I can't believe he tried to stun you! KayKay would write.
"Tried" being the operative word she'd scribble in reply. KayKay would read it, probably laugh quietly, and jot down another comment.
Good point. But I think he deserves a little lesson anyhow.
Madison would grin wickedly at this. Do you have any ideas?
"Madison?" a voice interrupted. She shook her head quickly, glancing down at her paper in surprise. She'd actually written down some of what she'd been thinking. She messily tore the paper out of her notebook and crumpled it before looking up.
"What—oh, it's you," she said upon seeing Harry. Around her, people were chattering and shoving books into their bags.
"Class is over," he said unnecessarily.
"So I see," Madison replied, closing her notebook. He shoved a letter under her nose.
"This just came."
"During class?" Madison asked curiously, forgetting to be rude.
"Yeah. Dobby brought it, actually."
Madison took the piece of paper out of the open envelope and unfolded it.
Harry & Madison,
Please meet in my office at 8:00. It would be wise to practice some more before coming.
Sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore
"Not exactly a superfluous writer, is he?" Madison asked, turning the letter over in her hand to look at the blank side.
"You do know what this means?" Harry said. It wasn't a question.
"That Poker night will have to be moved to Saturday?" Madison suggested, stuffing the letter away. "I know, I know," she said as Harry opened his mouth to say something, "it means we have to acknowledge each other's presence again."
"That would be helpful, yes," he admitted. "And we have to work really hard tonight before that meeting."
Madison sighed and swung her bag over her shoulder as she stood. "You're absolutely impossible."
"What?" Harry asked incredulously, following her out into the hall. "What now?"
"Oh, relax, I'll help you out. Repeat after me. 'Madison . . .' "
"Madison?" he echoed quizzically.
" ' . . . I apologize for comparing you to Hermione . . .' "
"I, er . . . apologize for comparing you to Hermione."
" ' . . . Because I know that you would never chastise me for being unable to forget someone who was very close to both of us. And never again will I accuse you of being coldhearted when you're trying to make me face my problems, because I know that you would never even think of saying that I should just drop the past and move on with my life. We both know that doing so isn't right or easy. I will never send a curse at you again without a legitimate reason . . . .' "
Harry blinked, and Madison grinned in satisfaction. "Uh . . . because I know that you'd never . . . um . . . something, something . . . uh . . . legitimate reason?"
" ' . . . So help me, Merlin.' "
"So help me, Merlin," he finished with a grateful sigh.
"Good enough," Madison shrugged in acceptance. She was to a point where she really couldn't afford to be picky about how the apology sounded or who it really came from.
"Should we jus grab something from the kitchens and start working?" Harry suggested, hitching his bag higher on his shoulder. Madison looked at her watch.
"I suppose so," she said, shrugging. "We have a lot of progress to make, and very little time to make it in."
§ ¤ § ¤ § ¤ § ¤ § ¤ § ¤ § ¤ § ¤ §
Despite skipping dinner and going straight to an abandoned room to start practicing, two hours came and went without any noticeable change in Madison and Harry's attempts to tap into their powers. It wasn't for lack of trying—and Harry was careful not to voice his frustrations since he knew Madison was really struggling—but something should have happened by now!
"Why isn't anything working?" Madison said desperately, sitting down on an overturned cauldron and looking at her watch. "We're due to meet Dumbledore any minute, and we have nothing to show for all these weeks when we were supposed to be getting better!"
Harry sighed, removing his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. "You can't feel any change? Nothing at all?"
"I'm sorry Harry—no." She looked at her hands with an expression akin to disgust. "No 'special strength,' no shimmering power, nothing! I didn't think it'd be this hard . . ."
"Neither did I," Harry confessed, shoving his glasses back onto his face. "KayKay and I . . . well, we had problems, but not this early on. We could always feel our powers . . . and each other's . . ."
Madison moaned and rubbed her face before glancing at her watch again.
"Maybe . . . maybe Dumbledore can help?" she said hesitantly.
Harry secretly doubted it, but he opted for saying, "Well, we can ask him at least. We need to head up to his office now anyhow." He opened the door to the classroom and ushered Madison out ahead of him. "Come on."
The walk to the stone gargoyle was made in silence; Madison had pulled out the infamous Which Broomstick? catalogue, and Harry was too caught up in his own thoughts for conversation. Now that they were finally seeing Dumbledore again, a myriad of questions that had been tumbling about in his head for the past few weeks were resurfacing—should he confront the headmaster about some of them tonight?
"Chocolate Frog," he muttered when they reached the gargoyle. It sprang to life, leaping aside to reveal the spiral staircase behind it. Before they'd even reached the top, Dumbledore was opening the door.
"Good evening. Please, come in and have a seat."
Harry entered the office and sat down in one of the chairs Dumbledore indicated. Madison followed suit, twisting the transfigured catalogue in her hands as she watched Dumbledore close and lock his office door. Harry frowned and reached over to touch her hand in an attempt to calm her down and keep her from damaging the catalogue—which only made her gasp loudly and drop it to the ground. Before she or Harry could bend over to grab it, Dumbledore snapped his fingers, making it zoom up into his hand.
"Ah, Which Broomstick? Excellent selection . . . are you looking for a new broom, Madison? The Firebolts are a bit expensive . . . but I hear that the Nimbus series has come out with their 2002 model . . ."
Madison opened and closed her mouth wordlessly a few times, leaving Harry a bit bewildered. In all the time he'd known her, she'd never been at a loss for words.
"Actually, Professor," he spoke up, "er . . . that one of the things we need to talk to you about. You see, there was this mishap in Defense Against the Dark Arts . . ."
"Oh?" Dumbledore prompted with a knowing twinkle in his eye.
"Yeah. Well . . . that catalogue is actually Godric's journal," he finished uncomfortably.
"Ah! Practicing Concealing and Revealing Charms, were you? Excellent to know in the Auror field, they often come in handy—as you noticed." There was no anger in his eyes . . . just an amused smile. "So, which of you had a Concealing Charm strong enough to transfigure such a magical object?"
There was a long moment of silence, and then Madison muttered, "Me."
"Don't worry, it shouldn't be too difficult to fix . . . and it's no surprise that you couldn't change it back, Godric Gryffindor undoubtedly put heavy charms on this little book," he said, turning the catalogue over in his hands and rubbing his fingers across the glossy cover absentmindedly. Dumbledore then laid it neatly on his desk and laid his palm on its center, his brow furrowed in concentration.
Harry glanced over at Madison and was pleased to see that she looked a bit calmer now that it was obvious that Dumbledore thought the damage done to the journal could be amended. He offered her a small smile and was rewarded with a grin in return that clearly voiced her relief.
A small flare of light from Dumbledore's desk drew both of their attention back to the headmaster's activities. He was mouthing words as he sketched some sort of design on the cover of the catalogue, and it was slowly turning back into Gryffindor's journal—one detail at a time. First the color of the cover changed, then it grew smaller, and then thicker . . .
"Yes . . . I believe that it' back to its original state now," Dumbledore said confidently. He opened it and flicked through the pages, his piercing eyes quickly scanning over each one.
"Oh, thank you, Professor. I'm really sorry . . . I tried to fix it myself . . ." Madison said.
"And I would have been astounded if you had. I would have been surprised if even Professors Kingstaff or McGonagall would have managed to put it right. The fact that you managed to bewitch it at all—" He stopped suddenly at a page near the back. Harry thought he saw a strange expression cross Dumbledore's face, but he must have imagined it, for the Headmaster was already closing the journal and continuing. ". . . Well, it's quite impressive."
"Thank you," Madison said quietly—it would seem she was unaccustomed to modesty, but she was doing a good job of it in Harry's opinion. He decided to bring up the next problem as well.
"Professor Dumbledore? There's, ah . . . another thing we're having trouble with . . ."
"Go on, Harry," Dumbledore said invitingly, folding his hands and leaning forward slightly in his chair to listen.
"Well . . . our powers won't . . . that is, Madison's powers aren't . . ." he struggled to try to describe exactly how it felt without insulting Madison.
"They aren't there," Madison interrupted, much to Harry's relief.
"Please, explain," Dumbledore said.
"Well . . . I can't feel anything inside of me that Harry described, and he can't find anything to connect his powers to . . ."
"There was always something there," Harry explained. "Even when we weren't trying to tap into our powers, I could always feel KayKay's magic lingering around . . . I could even tell if she was nearby. But with Madison there's . . . well . . . nothing."
"Ah," Dumbledore said, apparently understanding. He didn't look at all surprised. "I was afraid we'd have to come back to this. I'd hoped we wouldn't, since Harry's powers are already developed—I thought that perhaps contact with him would be enough. But I'm afraid, Madison, that your powers need to be awoken within you, and Harry's magic alone isn't quite enough to do it."
Harry and Madison exchanged looks. "What?" they asked simultaneously.
"Remember, Harry, that your powers didn't appear immediately upon meeting KayKay. They had to first be aroused. Now, I don't suppose you recall how . . .?" Dumbledore suggested.
But Harry did remember. In one blurry flourish, his mind whipped through images surrounding their amazed discovery.
"You mean," he struggled, his mouth suddenly dry, "a—"
"Yes Harry, a kiss. I've told you time and again that love is the strongest of all magic," Dumbledore said unsympathetically. "You two may not hold the same feelings for each other as you and KayKay shared, but whether you realize it or not, you are united in friendship and a love for KayKay—and that love is exactly why you have to awaken Madison's powers."
United by a love for KayKay? . . . But that was the reason that Harry couldn't do what Dumbledore was asking of him! It would be almost like a . . . betrayal. Like replacing her. Dumbledore and Madison may have convinced him that continuing work with his powers was respectful to KayKay's memory, but they would never convince him that this was!
He glanced at Madison out of the corner of his eye to gauge her reaction, but her face was expressionless as she looked back at Dumbledore.
No help from her, then . . . Harry thought bitterly.
"You two may go now. I believe that's all we can cover for tonight," Dumbledore said, cutting into Harry's thoughts.
"Thank you, Professor," Madison said, standing up and habitually smoothing her shirt hem. She met Harry's cross gaze and looked startled. "I—ah—goodnight," she said quickly, breaking eye contact with him and heading for the door.
Harry didn't even wait until she was gone to speak up. "Professor, isn't there a different way? I mean, I know there must be . . . what about some sort of blood-exchange?"
He almost regretted his words when he saw the disappointment in the headmaster's face—almost.
"Harry, Harry, Harry," Dumbledore sighed. "Do you really want your powers to be based on the necessity for someone else's blood rather than on love?"
Instinctively, Harry almost grabbed the spot on his arm that Wormtail had taken blood from him at Voldemort's resurrection, but he stopped himself just in time. Dumbledore, however, watched his movements knowingly.
"Now, will that be all, Harry?"
"Yeah," Harry muttered, turning and heading for the door. His hand was already on the knob when he turned back around. "No."
Dumbledore's eyebrows went up in mild surprise—but it may have just been an act. "Yes, Harry?"
"I want to know why we can't bring KayKay back." His left hand curled into a fist as he voiced the question that had been tumbling around in his head since the fateful night that they'd faced Voldemort.
"No spell can—"
"—No spell can reawaken the dead, I know!" Harry exclaimed angrily. "But who said anything about a spell? I mean—Gryffindor went into Death! KayKay sent me back here even though she was gone! If I have these 'amazing powers,' why can't I put them to any use!" He pounded the back of the chair he'd been sitting in with his fist in frustration.
"Why can't we bring KayKay back? Why! And don't try to tell me that she wouldn't want to be back . . . because I know she would. She was . . . she was . . ."
But exactly what KayKay was, Harry couldn't say, because even he didn't know how to explain it.
He felt a gentle pressure on his shoulder—Dumbledore had stood up and was steering Harry back into his chair.
"It is true, Gryffindor journeyed into Death. But he had his full powers—and what is more, they were in prime condition. Plus, Harry, you must know what he found while he was there."
"But we don't!" Harry protested. "Who is to say—"
"You're wrong, Harry." He said it with such soft finality that Harry actually fell silent. After a long pause, Dumbledore continued. "Madison's Transfiguration incident was both a blessing and a curse."
"And . . . and how is that?" Harry asked.
Dumbledore picked up the journal. "It revealed something that Godric Gryffindor had concealed. Something that he wrote in a later entry." He held it out to Harry, who eagerly grabbed it and flipped towards the back. Finally, he found the spot where the journal entries left off, except now, there was more text on the next blank page.
Blood for blood.
The debt repaid:
One soul's life
To take Death's place.
Harry looked back up at Dumbledore. "It means—it means that if we were to bring KayKay back . . . someone would have to stay in her place, right? 'Blood for blood'?"
Dumbledore nodded gravely.
"I'll do it. I don't care what it takes. She didn't deserve to die—"
"Harry . . ."
"—she has so much more she can do for people—"
"Harry, listen to me . . ."
"—I have the powers, so I can go into Death . . . I don't care that I'd have to take her place, I'd do anything for her—"
"Harry, it's 'Blood for blood.' " Dumbledore spoke over him gently.
"I know! I don't care . . . I'm willing to die for her!" Harry protested defiantly.
"I know you are," Dumbledore said quietly. "But yours is not the blood that would have to be paid."
§ ¤ § ¤ § ¤ § ¤ § ¤ § ¤ § ¤ § ¤ §
Cold . . . so cold, so cold, and so dark . . . a dense, heavy dark, that filled the lungs, flowed through the veins, and pressed in from all sides like an invisible burning, swirling, swallowing fog, like . . . like . . .
Oh.
§ ¤ § ¤ § ¤ § ¤ § ¤ § ¤ § ¤ § ¤ §
I was just about to quote Mark Twain
When I realized that it's all in vain.
A twist of fate, a twisted look of pain.
To defeat the wheat, go against the grain.
I know,
I know,
I know what you've been through.
But there's only so much one can do.
Now the rest is up to you . . .
The rest is up to you.
Your mentor's become your tormentor.
Give him the money, but is it for rent or
will you get burnt for the countless time?
Your head starts to hurt. You just close your eyes.
I know,
I know,
I know what he did to you.
But there's only so much one can do.
The rest is up to you . . .
the rest is up to you.
This speech is merely words.
It's even worse because it rhymes.
Give me a minute or your time,
I'll have a minute of your time.
And I can't make this click.
And I can't tattoo your mind.
But you know this isn't a trick.
Take it or leave it all behind.
The rest is up to you . . .
The rest is up to you
Gave my advice, done all I can
(The rest is up to you)
It's your life; it's in your hands
(The rest is up to you)
Why don't you try to slow down?
Slow things down.
Slow things down.
'Cause I know you're hurting.
So put down your burdens.
Crucify your doubts and just reach out.
The rest is up to you . . .
The rest is up to you.
Wow. Sad. This is just . . . sad.
HALF A YEAR SINCE MY LAST UPDATE!
I'm sorry. I was afraid this would happen with Senior Year and all . . .
. . . on the plus side, I'm in three choirs, I got lead in the fall play, and I survived my college english class. And I made it into my first-choice college. And THEY offered ME over $8,000 a year in financial aid.
And, for the first time in known history, I'm swooning over somebody who ISN'T a book or fanfiction character. He's so . . . ah, getting off-topic. Sorry.
But besides that . . . much thanks to Relient K for this great song . . . even though I cut a lot of repeated parts and shortened the end . . .
siriusfanatic: But happy endings are SOOO boring! However . . . just to be nice . . . I'll try to put something besides teen angst in Chapter 15. Even if it's only minor.
SiriusLivesInMe: I refuse to feel guilty over making you cry two chapters in a row. I simply refuse. It's actually a compliment to me, so . . . thanks!
Her Royal Evilness (aka ME): Wow. Was I really that bored that I reviewd my OWN story?
Sad.
siriusfanatic: as to your response to the hint in my review . . . no and no. It's more of a quick glimpse into a deeper part of Brian's soul . . .
siriusfanatic: Yes, it did! Thanks!
ilovecoldplay3: I haven't heard the song, but I am . . . well, not "happy," per se, but . . . pleased that I made you cry. ¤ offers Gianna a tissue ¤ Thanks for reading!
DianaStar: Bribe me with . . . what? ¤ grins slyly ¤
Well, anybody who stuck with me all this time, thanks. My own response to the last chapter's ponderance is:
Well, I think that Harry loved KayKay most since . . . well, everything. They did seem better off as friends, but I can tell that he never stopped caring about her. There's lots more, but Icy covered it all thoughroughly enough for you/me to get the point.
Matt comes in last. This is not just because I'm not fond of the "little man wench," because I'm supposed to answer my ponderance unbiased-ly, but because he almost pushed KayKay into a relationship, and if they had one good fight, I don't think anything would be left for them to salvage.
Brian is second. I know I swoon over him (along with any sane female reader who read Chapter Eleven), but really, I have a good reason. You have to believe me (especially since not believeing me would be scary since I AM me . . . er, or YOU are me. Wait . . .) Anyhow, he was always there for KayKay and loved her dearly as a friend . . . he may have wanted more but NEVER pushed anything. In fact, he suggested that she not hang out with him in order to preserve her own dignity/image. Only when she refused did he continue as her friend. Also, if they were to fight, they'd still be close friends. That's the beauty of loving a friend.
And, if anybody has any THEORIES regarding the ficcy . . . know one of the Kats does . . . I always lovehearing them . . . ¤ coughcoughwinkwinknudgenudgeHINTHINT ¤
