24) The Refuge of a Shallow Mind
AN: I have no idea, absolutely no idea where this came from. When people say there's no such thing as a muse, well, I had a nice sarcastic tropeville going and then… what the actual hecks? Anyway, here's proof that I ain't dead, even if I'm derivative.
~~ it was Harry that was supposed to be sarcastic ~~
Harry was admiring his formerly-wounded hand in the common room. He'd found, in the library he'd had Kreacher secure from headquarters, three books on parselmagic. If he was going to hexed for being able to talk to snakes, well, he figured he may as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb. Parsel healing was phenomenal. He didn't even have a scratch, let alone "I must not tell lies" carved into his skin.
He wondered if he'd be able to use other parsel spells, now that he'd got the hang of casting with it (though he had to cast with his left hand using a wand he'd found in the come and go room to do so). Maybe he'd start with a lock for his new (to him) trunk, since Ron seemed a bit too curious about why he had it and what he stored in it. Stupid wanker.
Harry looked around the common room. They were all coming back from Yule break by floo, so it was taking more time than usual, but still, it seemed awfully quiet. Ron and Lavender were "greeting" each other in one corner; Ginny and Dean in another. Harry shook his head. Since he'd taken the purging potion, the "monster" in his gut had disappeared. And his head had felt strangely clearer. Things just made more sense. And his personality seemed to go back to its formerly sarcastic state, instead of the angsty, hormonal weirdo he'd inadvertently (or chemically) become.
Harry sighed. As much as he loved magic, he thinking maybe it was time to make some alternative plans for his life. Perhaps he should look into getting his muggle certifications. The time turner he'd got from Kreacher would certainly help with that.
His musings were interrupted by Professor Minerva McGonagall entering the common room. Though she was their head of house, they almost never saw her in the Gryffindor Tower.
Could be the reason most of Gryffindor acted like feral beasts.
The professor cleared her throat loudly and Ron and Lavender split apart slowly, a petulant look on Ron's face and what appeared to be a large amount of saliva adorning both their faces and necks.
It was enough to make one bulimic.
"The headmaster would like to see both Weasleys and Mr. Potter in his office, immediately," she announced.
Harry sighed. His hero-worship of Headmaster Twinkledore had taken a serious blow when that man had dumped a prophecy on Harry just as Sirius had been killed. It died a painful death when the obviously senile man had "trained" Harry by giving him tiny bits of information about Voldeturd instead of useful skills. He hadn't even told Harry how to destroy the Horcruxes. Harry'd had to figure out, on his own, that basilisk venom did the trick. He'd gone into the chamber and brought out a few of the fangs, stored nicely in a lead box in his trunk, so he'd have something to destroy the things with if he ever came across another one, like that crown thing he'd found whilst training in the room of requirement.
He'd really gotten to know both secret rooms using that time turner over the last four (eight) months.
He followed the two gingers quietly to the Head's office, with McGonagall silently (and with obvious disapproval over some perceived slight – perhaps she didn't like the Weasleys kissing people?) leading them.
"Ah, children. Good evening. I have a grave matter to discuss with you."
The three took seats and stayed silent while their head of house walked behind Dumbledore's desk to align herself with him.
That was her job as head of house, right? To stand for the headmaster's wants and needs?
"It has come to my attention," he held up (with his not-dead hand) a piece of parchment, "that the home of Miss Granger has been suddenly abandoned. I had feared that Voldemort and his minions had eliminated her family, but this missive seems to belie that conclusion."
As speaking English seemed to be an art form for the Headmaster, Harry had to put on his high-brow-to-commoner translator. Hermione and her family had obviously done a runner. Lucky sods.
"This communication, from Miss Granger, is her withdrawal from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as a prefect and as a student. As she is of age, she can, of course, do this. But it will be rather a blow to our side should the brightest witch of the age turn her back on magic."
There was a beat of silence, then another.
"The headmaster and I," McGonagall spoke finally, "would like to know if you had any indication that Miss Granger was leaving or where she would go. Can you contact her now?"
'So you can drag her back and treat her like you treat me? Not likely!' thought Harry.
Ginny spoke quietly, "She's been acting off all term. She was mad, a lot. I've caught her crying a few times. She wasn't like the Hermione I knew. I tried to talk to her a couple of times, but…" her voice trailed off as she shrugged.
"I don't believe Miss Granger would voluntarily leave Hogwarts," McGonagall looked at each of the students in turn but focused last and strongest on Harry.
Harry just looked at McGonagall, then at the expectant headmaster. "I'm not surprised, really. People like Malfoy call her a mudblood and no one does a thing. She and a few other muggleborn get attacked by Slytherin's monster, but until Ginny here got missing, nobody cared. Umbridge, well, she tortured a bunch of muggleborn and half-bloods, and the rest of the staff stood back or cheered her on. With war starting again, anyone with an ounce of sense will see the writing on the wall. Hermione's got a bit more than an ounce of sense…"
And, when word gets out that she's bolted, a whole lot of muggleborn will follow. Which Harry figured was the real issue.
"Maybe she would have stayed if being friends with Harry didn't put her in such danger," Ron postulated with neither anger nor tact.
Harry stayed calm.
"My fault, then?" He shrugged, "Maybe. She's been doing her best to put space between us this year, certainly. But I'm hardly the sole source of the danger to her here at Hogwarts. First year you almost killed her with the troll; Ginny tried her best to kill Hermione second year when she sicced the basilisk on students hither and yon. Fudge's dementors had nothing to do with me, and blame Dumbledore for sticking her at the bottom of the lake fourth year. I'll take the blame for the curse at the end of last year, but otherwise? I don't think it's on me."
"Just being friends with you puts people in danger," Ginny asserted, stung that he would accuse her of Tom's misdeeds.
"I suppose that's true enough," Harry agreed with no rancor. "That's primarily why I didn't go to the burrow over winter break. It's time I put some space between me and your family; you don't need any more danger than you already have, what with being a big pack of blood-traitors and such."
Ron narrowed his eyes, studying Harry to see if that last part was a joke or dead serious. He simply couldn't tell. Harry'd changed. So had Hermione. And he didn't quite understand why.
"We're getting off topic," McGonagall inserted. "Do any of you know where Miss Granger might be?"
Harry shook his head honestly. If Dumbledore was reading his mind, he'd get the same answer. Of course, if he'd ask "did you have any idea she planned this," the answer would have been quite different. Not that it mattered.
Hermione was free.
~~ this is a scene break ~~
In mid-September, Hermione had pulled Harry aside. Tearfully, she apologized for how she treated him the last few days. She'd explained that she heard Lavender and Parvati saying she was being more of a bitch than normal, and self-study she realized she really was. Her logical brain forced her to do some deep thinking. At first, she'd blamed hexes or curses – when the diagnostic came back negative, she was unsure of what to do.
Then she remembered that she'd heard girls talking about slipping Harry a love potion, and though she couldn't imagine that anyone would do so to her (as the resident swot was never someone people wanted to date) she decided to make sure she wasn't under the influence.
She made the most powerful purging potion she could find and suffered through a miserable Friday evening and Saturday. But in the end, she felt only slightly different.
She assumed she'd been given some potions, but they only really built on subliminal choices she'd already made.
Then she did some soul searching. She'd traced her own change of attitude back to the prophecy. Harry was doomed, not because of the prophecy, but because Dumbledore and Voldemort believed in the prophecy and would make it come to pass.
She talked Harry into purging also, and when he told her how his thoughts were now clear and more easily directed, how he didn't have any attraction – at all - for Ginny (though, since summer, he had started to obsess over the ginger), she was stymied. If their friends and allies would do this, if they would hamper the hand of prophecy, what chance did anyone have? Was there anyone good in this world of magic?
They went back to their dorms, determined to try to plan, depressed at the need for it.
~~ this is a scene break ~~
"So here it is, my list for you." Hermione handed Harry a piece of parchment and smiled. It was their last night together training in the room of requirement.
When he'd first showed her the time turner, she'd balked, remembering how crazy the last one had made her. But he insisted – they'd do full days, not hours. And they'd get sleep and they'd eat. But they'd train.
At first, Malfoy had tried to interfere in their use of the room of requirement. They tried using the Chamber of Secrets, but it didn't have the endless supplies the ROR had. So, they had Dobby wait in the room and see what Malfoy was playing with. Then, they destroyed that weird cabinet and never had competition for the room again.
And they trained. She researched, he practiced, and they both plotted and planned. He had a compilation of everything Hermione had suggested in a charmed notebook (and this list went right into it). First, he had Kreacher get him a trunk that was secure and had much more space, like Moody's. And he began to stock it. Dobby purchased a used and small, but fully fully-warded, charmed, and stocked magical tent. He found a few extra wands that worked passably and built a fully stocked medical kit with muggle and magical supplies. He had both the Black and Potter libraries in a special secured library trunk, several basilisk fangs and two dead horcruxes in the box. (The two were the crown thing and a necklace that, ironically, had been in his house at Grimmauld. Kreacher had asked Harry to destroy the necklace when Harry'd commanded Kreacher to tell Harry what he needed to be a happier elf. Harry put two (elf magic couldn't destroy it?) and two (the memory of Riddle's grandfather) together, and tested a basilisk fang. It worked.) In addition to his firebolt, Harry had two other functioning brooms from the room. And, of course, he had two elves – Kreacher and Dobby - bonded to him.
He had everything he needed to go into guerilla war.
But he wasn't going to have her. Though part of him ached at the knowledge, another part was relieved.
Hermione had been doing her own preparations. She, too, had her own library, built from the unclaimed books in Hogwarts and the Crouch library. She'd bonded Winky (Dobby and Kreacher had explained the need for bonds to Hermione, and she'd bound Winky as a sign that she understood) and that elf had provided a number of valuable magical items – foe glasses and an invisibility cloak and a pensieve… all from the Crouch household. Umbridge was supposed to have inherit the lot, but if she didn't know it was supposed to be there, well it wouldn't be missed. Winky had boxed up many treasures after the two Crouches had died, not wanting Voldemort to get them.
Hermione had enough to hide, continue her studies, and be safe. And Harry couldn't want for anything if she was safe.
"Take Hedwig with you," he blurted on the day before winter hols.
"What?" Hermione dropped what she was working on and looked at Harry in shock. "Why would you want me to do that?"
"She's beautiful and smart and I love her and I want her to be safe," his eyes didn't meet hers.
"Harry?" she asked, hesitantly.
He turned his face to hers, noting the unshed tears, and it firmed his resolve. He raised his hand and cupped her cheek, rubbing his thumb along the soft skin. "I love her and I want her to be safe." He gruffly whispered
She closed her eyes as her jaw trembled. She turned into his hand briefly before nodding.
~~ skipping back to after winter hols ~~
And so, the year continued. Harry had Dobby and Kreacher pilfer slightly from the kitchens to fill his food stasis cabinet in the tent. He had enough rations for over a year, now. He had his tent set up as a base of operations in the chamber, and he'd been practicing potions in his mobile lab (well, it had been someone in the Black family's but it worked well for him.) He had an appointment set up with his account manager at Gringotts for the last Hogsmeade weekend – he'd have to ditch Ron, but he figured Lavender would take care of keeping the poor, whipped keeper busy. It was time to lock down the Black vaults like he'd locked down the Potter vaults. And it was almost time to don his boogie shoes.
~~ and now it gets weird ~~
Dumbledore had apparated Harry to a crazy cave on the coast. It'd been one of Voldemort's top five places to go when you're bored – so naturally, it was horrific.
They sailed through a toxic sea filled with zombies to a little island. When they got to the strange stone basin that glowed eerily, Harry looked down in.
"My boy, I fear we must drink this potion in order to get to the locket horcrux." Dumbledore's voice was broken. He knew he'd have to drink it. Harry needed to survive this night for him to immolate Tom.
"No, sir, we don't." Harry felt enormous relief in saying that. "The necklace horcrux is already destroyed."
Dumbledore was dumblefounded.
"What?" The aged headmaster asked, stupidly.
"Regulus Black died here – he's probably with the rest of the fiends under the water. He stole the necklace and ordered Kreacher to destroy it. When I inherited Kreacher, I ordered him to tell me what I could do to help him be a better elf. He told me about the necklace. It was Slytherin's, I think. I opened it with parsel, stabbed it with a basilisk fang, it screamed and cursed and died. Kreacher has been a better elf ever since."
"But, my boy," Albus, his eyes twinkling again, probing with all his might, but unable to catch the child's gaze, "why did you never tell me?"
"Why did you never tell me how to destroy these damn things, though you seem to be setting me up to look for them? Let me try one of your turns of phrase," he put on a sanctimonious visage and wheezed his best geezer voice; "My dear boy, I would tell you when you are ready to know… " Harry then ruined the act with a snort.
Dumbledore harumphed and got back into the rickety boat. Harry pulled out his shrunken broom, enlarged and mounted it. He pushed the headmaster back to the other shore rapidly and the two left the cave.
Dumbledore looked both weary and defeated. "Is there anything else you want to tell me, Harry?"
"Is there anything else you want to tell me, Albus?" Harry mocked. Dumbledore sighed again.
"Take my arm; we'll apparate back to the school."
They landed quietly on the astronomy tower and made their way back to the headmaster's office. Harry was watching Dumbledore with a gimlet eye. Even with his concentration, he barely noticed the Headmaster forcing all the portraits to sleep. When the door to the office closed, the headmaster spun, wand in hand.
Whether he meant to compel truth or action or merely obliviate, Harry didn't care. He was younger, stronger, healthier, and faster. He disarmed Dumbledore silently and the Headmaster's wand sailed through the air into Harry's outstretched hand.
The bonding was not at all what his other two wands had been. The wand told him of things that it had done, it taught him magics… it showed him how to undo many of the things that Albus had done to him.
"Stupefy," Harry whispered in parsel, and the horrified headmaster crumpled. He took the time to do an incarcerous, also in parsel, as he figured Dumbledore's wandless couldn't take care of two intwined parsel spells. Then he started to undo some of the crimes that Dumbledore had used this wand perpetrate.
Harry took bonds and compulsions off himself first. His mind magics roared to strength as they were freed from the binding on them. Fury warred with a desire to know why… why… WHY? Why had Dumbledore done these things to him?! Then he stared into the Headmaster's eyes and performed legilimency.
Harry's anger quieted as he compelled the headmaster's thoughts, guided by the power and knowledge of the Peverell wand. The power he knew not – at least as Dumbledore suspected it to be – was the power of the Peverell family. Both Tom and Harry descended from the Peverells. Harry had the cloak. Tom had the stone. Dumbledore had once had the cloak, but he gave it up.
Dumbledore did not want Harry to be the Master of Death. He wanted Harry to be a middling wizard bound to a light family and not too curious or questioning of his station in life. Unhindered by Dumbledore's alterations, Harry would see the inherent wrongness of the wizarding world and he could very well turn to the dark. In Albus's mind, Harry turning was almost a sure thing: because it had turned both Tom and Gellert to the dark. Hadn't it almost turned Albus himself? Even with bindings, Harry's magic would be too powerful and that power influenced by Death… his evil would make Voldemort weep.
Without bindings, friends, family… they were looking at the making of an unprecedented dark lord.
Dumbledore had purposefully kept Harry physically weak: he'd not known that since Harry's second year, Dobby had been plying his master with healing and nutritional potions and food. Dumbledore had been stymied when he'd picked up Harry that summer to find him as tall as the Weasley lad and not nearly in as ill of health as Petunia's "care" should have ensured.
If he'd known about Harry's training with the time turner that year, he'd have been fit to be tied.
Ending the spell, Harry stepped back. He called the resurrection stone to himself. "So, I have all three now, you git." Tears filled Albus's eyes as he watched Harry pull out the cloak from the mokeskin bag around his neck.
Throwing the cloak over his shoulders and fastening it around his neck with a bit of magic the elder wand informed him of, Harry held the wand in his right hand and the stone in his left.
"Ooh, look at me, I'm the master of death, I am! Oh Thanatos!" he called, mockingly, "Anubis? Here, Hades! Here Hades, Boy! Morrigan? Umm… Kali?" He shook the stone a little and looked it with mock consternation then back at the fallen Headmaster. "I think you broke them Dumbledore. Or they just don't work like you think they do. I feel absolutely no different – well, since I took all the bad hoodoo you did off of me a few minutes ago, anyway."
"And why would our mortal instrument feel different just because he has the toys we left him?"
Harry almost dropped said toys but simply gaped at the terrible-beautiful woman/man/being/deity who appeared beside him. "If you'd studied the toys, and taken the right courses, Instrument, you'd have seen our markings on all three."
"Uh.. sorry?" Harry stammered stupidly. But really, he'd challenge Hermione to know the protocol in this situation. (Though she'd certainly blame the whole thing on him and his Harry Potter luck.)
"It becomes clear. That dildo, there," itShe inclined its shining (so dark) head towards the terrified headmaster, "did not allow you grow magically as you were meant to. Not your fault at all." HeThey tipped their head, and Harry felt something rifling through his very soul. No occlumency would stop this freight train. "We see that your navigator started you on the right path there, finally. You started to listen to our voice on earth. But you let your navigator flee from this place – to save her. Well. That is so… sentimental of you." He was sure that wasn't a compliment. "You are following her directives, still, we see, but this will never do. Our voice and Our hand must work together."
There was a moment of silence, but then Harry couldn't seem to stop himself.
"So, who are you? Did I even come close?" tHey smirked, and it didn't look as though he would be smoted (smited? He was pretty sure smitten wasn't the right word) for his temerity.
"Does anyone? We are as we are; your mortal mind could not comprehend our aspects so we appear as you need us to."
Harry nodded stupidly, "Right."
Th(it)ey smirked – there was no other word. Then all humor melted away and a gravity beyond anything Harry'd ever felt pulled on his soul. He fell to his knees as They(it)She studied hishertheir servant. They spoke directly into Harry's mind, and he thought he might fall to pieces before it was all done.
"Instrument. We have need of you. It is time to clean the refuse and prepare for the renewal. You'll need to get our navigator back. Your feeble mortal mind is meant to be stronger than most; what you have done this evening has started to correct the ills done to you, and thus to the entire mortal realm. You must listen; We can communicate fully with you but… What's this? Oh, that little cheater!" SheThey leaned forward and plucked at Harry's forehead, pulling a black mist from his scar. It screamed and fought and the beingDEITYcreature(demon) smiled, inhaled, and roasted it with their breath.
The stench of sulfur and the sound of a piece mortal soul being damned made Harry's eyes water, nose instantly congest, and ears bleed.
He had a feeling he wasn't going to like working for his new boss.
But itShethey turned to Dumbledore then. "Well, Dildo? What justification could you possibly have for dulling my instrument, for hiding him from me?" The parsel stunning spell kept Albus paralyzed but the terrible being simply looked into his soul. "Ahh, so you wished to save the world. Good reason. Bringing order from chaos is the grand plan, after all. You're still a dildo, though. Your mortal soul lies in the balance. Interfere again and the balance shall tip – not to your favor. Capisce?"
Though Albus could not move, he did agree vehemently with whatever this monster (death) wanted. And the monster seemed to understand.
Death turned to Harry and filled him with purpose (well, filled what already wasn't filled with terror). sHe gave him instruction – much more rigorous and to the point than Hermione ever did. He'd never complain about Hermione's bossiness again.
And then Death disappeared. But itsTHEIRher mark on Harry would never fade.
He would find Hermione – Death had shown him how to use the tie their immortal roles gave them. He would, with her help and in a time bubble, cleanse and learn and train for the renewal, which was coming right up, thank you very much. He didn't worry about Voldemort – the renewal would remove the horcruxes and incomplete souls from the plane, returning them to Death.
He called Dobby to him – had that elf gather Harry's things. He contemplated freeing Dumbledore from the parsel spells, but decided to draw a dick on his face, instead. He stole the penseive from the cupboard, just because the Headmaster seemed to cherish it and that jerk had stolen enough from Harry to justify returning the favor.
Opening the window, he mounted his broom again and sped out of the castle, off the grounds, and to a new life.