26.
After Bulgaria, Harry made a point of visiting Sirius in his house at Grimmauld Place. Sirius and Lupin had completed remodeling and Harry was surprised to find that Percy had helped them buy the houses flanking the magically hidden building. One, they rented to magical folk and the other acted as a safehouse for the werewolf colony Lupin had spent much of the spring rehabilitating. Harry flooed into the cozy living room of Grimmauld place, scattering ash all over the newly refurbished hardwood floors. Sirius and Lupin met him there and hugged him within an inch of his life.
They led him to the werewolf safehouse through an adjoining door and introduced him to the grateful people there. There were several small family units with children, some of which had been turned and some of which hadn't. There were a few young couples and many individuals who were there on their own. Each person took turns shaking Harry's hand. They led him to a comfortable sitting room, people strewn casually over the cushions on the floor and the couches lining the walls, and spoke to him about their experiences, about how Lupin's arrival had changed their lives. Percy had already begun the arduous process of getting them all immigration papers for the non-British pack members at the ministry and registering them as werewolves. With Percy's connections at the ministry and the right amount of money, it could be done. The safehouse had to be a secret, of course, but these people would need to be documented in order for them to lead ordinary lives. Sirius also provided funding for their living arrangements until they could start working.
"I can't tell you how much it means to us that you would help us," one woman said. She was young, perhaps a few years out of school, with short blond hair, green eyes, and a light dusting of freckles on her nose. "The boy who killed Greyback said you would help, but we didn't think anyone would actually do any of this for us."
"Lycanthropy is a perfectly manageable condition," Harry said, hugging a pillow on the large, comfortable couch, his feet crossed under him. "You're still the witches and wizards you were before you were turned. Lycanthropy should have been a choice for you. And even if it wasn't, the condition gives you power that you shouldn't be ashamed of, even when you aren't transformed."
"The boy said that too," a man with sun-weathered skin commented from his seat on the floor, legs splayed out in front of him. A child, likely his daughter, played with his hands in front of him. "We never knew. Living under Greyback's watch was torture. He wanted us to grovel before him. That was no pack, not like what we have now."
"Are the transformations easier together?" Harry asked no one in particular. He was answered by chuckled mutterings of agreement all around the room.
"We dug a very secure and rather comfortable basement downstairs where we go every full moon and we have a supply of wolfsbane potion every month from St. Mungo's. All that's paid for from the rent we charge the boarders in the other house," Lupin said. "That Percy really comes in handy, doesn't he?"
"I know talent when I see it," Harry said smugly. He eyed Lupin and noticed a ruddy glow to his cheeks that was never there before and that the man was well-groomed for perhaps the first time in his life.
"He even set up a charitable foundation," Sirius said. "Of course it helped that I contributed publicly to help with promotion, but I never would have thought to handle it this way."
"We have another idea, actually," Harry said. "We know there's no cure for lycanthropy so far, but Percy did some digging and found out that the reason why there's been so little progress is because there is very little research. There's simply not enough data to even begin to formulate a cure. We've decided to fund a small group of researchers working out of St. Mungo's headed by my physician, Healer Smethwyck."
With their permission, Harry invited Smethwyck himself to come speak to the group. He discussed at length the need for volunteers to be studied. Nothing invasive and everything would be performed with the subjects' express consent. They could back out at any time.
"We will keep everyone updated weekly as to the progress of the research," Smethwyck said. "Our methods will be fully disclosed to the public for full transparency and any cure we do manage to come up with will be tested under safe conditions. Our research methods will be peer reviewed by the best researchers all around the world before we move into clinical trials. This will take a long time, but I am hopeful we will make important progress on the cure for lycanthropy. Of course, we will only move forward with your consent."
The conversation continued along those lines for the rest of the afternoon with people listening to Smethwyck intently. Harry nodded off as the werewolves discussed the proposition amongst themselves and with Smethwyck. Try as he might to keep his eyes open, he fell asleep with his head Sirius's shoulder, still clutching the oversized pillow in his arms. When he woke, he was in bed in a different room. Harry looked around groggily and recognized the off-white walls of Sirius's house. The room he was in was as grand as all the other rooms in the house with high ceilings and beautifully carved furniture. Sirius, though resentful of his family, had enough sense to refurbish the furniture instead of replacing it, and strip down the dilapidated layers of wallpaper.
Harry got out of the bed and took a look around at what was clearly meant to be his room in the spacious house. The bed curtains were Gryffindor-red with gold cording. A trunk tucked away in the corner caught his eye and he opened it out of sheer curiosity. It was a trunk full of old treasures, some of them harmless, and others incredibly dark and dangerous. The most interesting artifact there, however, was a golden locket marked with a bright green "S." Harry felt the familiar pulse of a soul radiating from the unassuming piece of jewelry and the sensation made his heart beat harder in his chest. Working on instinct, he transferred the soul to the little toy soldier he always carried in his pocket. The thing had become something of a good-luck charm and he felt better having it with him. What a piece of Tom was doing here, Harry had no idea, but he knew he was lucky Sirius hadn't thrown it out.
"You must not touch these things," a thin, reedy voice rasped behind him. Harry spun around to find an old, decrepit house elf peeking in from the doorway.
"Those are the Black family heirlooms. My mistress would be upset to see a stranger touching these precious things." His voice was heartbreakingly sad, a tone that matched the wizened elf's face perfectly.
"I'm sorry," Harry said gently. He stowed the toy soldier away and sat on the floor, leaning against the trunk with his socked feet folded under him. He gestured for the elf to come closer.
"Here," he said, handing the locket to the elf. He took it eagerly, cradling it against himself as if it was the most important thing to him in the whole world.
"I'm Harry," he said. "Sirius is my godfather. I'm sorry if I offended you for touching these. I was just curious."
"Master Black did mention you to me. Said Kreacher was to be nice to you. Said he was going to throw these treasures out. Only Master Lupin made him keep these. My poor mistress. The Black family legacy was almost gone because of her own son."
"Is Kreacher your name?" Harry asked.
"Yes," the little elf said. He was dressed in a new pillowcase, a scowl permanently etched into his wrinkled face. Everything about Kreacher made Harry feel sorry for him.
"Did my godfather mistreat you Kreacher?"
"Master Black was angry at me in the beginning," Kreacher said, shaking his head. "But Master Lupin was kind to me. Made Kreacher stop saying things about muggle-borns. Kreacher knows now not to be unkind to muggle-borns. Then Master Black stopped being angry. He is still mad at my mistress. He is always angry when her portrait makes noise."
"Harry! You're awake!" Sirius said, barging noisily into the room, Lupin not far behind. Harry smiled at his godfather and stood, offering Kreacher a hand up. The elf took his hand timidly.
"I see you've met Kreacher, the old fellow," Lupin said, smiling at them.
"You had us worried," Sirius said, ignoring Kreacher and fixing Harry's sleep-tousled hair. "You looked so tired. Had to stop some of the pack from touching you so you wouldn't wake up fists flying."
"Sorry, I don't know what happened. I got so sleepy all of a sudden," Harry said. "It's been like this since the end of term. I even fell asleep at dinner once while I was visiting Viktor in Bulgaria."
"Perfectly understandable, Harry," Lupin said. "Everyone knows you're still recovering and they all know what you're going through. No one knows fatigue like a bunch of werewolves. The pack sleeps for days after a full moon."
"Anyhow, Smethwyck took a look at you and said you were fine, just tired. Oh I see you found that old chest," Sirius said, laughing.
"Some of those artifacts are dangerous, Sirius," Harry said. He fished out a cursed doll and a cursed music box. "You should at least label the chest. Danger. Cursed objects. May cause death."
"Nah, we knew you'd be fine," Sirius said. "Moony made me save them for you in case you wanted them. You are my sole heir, after all. Some of those are probably worth money."
Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Kreacher clutching the locket closer to his chest. "You know I don't care about the money. Most of these would maim anyone who didn't know better, so I don't feel good about throwing them out. I reckon the best thing would be to keep them here until we can get a curse-breaker to at least make them safe. That one's harmless, though." Harry pointed to the locket in Kreacher's hands. "Kreacher can have it." Kreacher blinked and looked up at Harry with a surprised expression.
"I don't see the harm," Sirius said. "I was going to throw it all away anyway." As Sirius led Lupin and Harry out of the room and down to dinner, Harry winked at Kreacher and waved goodbye. Kreacher stood in the doorway of Harry's room, still holding the locket in one hand and waving to Harry with the other.
Harry made one more trip that summer and flooed to the Patil family home one afternoon with the Malfoys' permission. He arrived in the usual puff of smoke covering the smooth, hardwood flooring and coughed as he stepped out of the fireplace. At once, he was pulled into the living room by his hands, stripped of his shoes, and seated in a very nice armchair, tea in hand, and a mound of food in front of him.
"Sorry to intrude," he sputtered smiling at Padma and Parvati as they giggled at Harry.
"Nonsense," their mother said, a small woman just slightly taller than her girls said. "Eat, eat. You're too skinny. No one leaves my house without eating something."
"I would listen to her, Harry," Mr. Patil said, taking a seat at what was clearly his chair in the corner of the little sitting room facing a large window with a magnificent view of what Harry realized was a mountainside. "We will get more acquainted later. Please, you must eat. My wife is the best cook in all of England and that is no exaggeration."
Harry thanked them and took his gloves off to eat. The family welcomed him warmly and piled food onto his plate. Mr. Patil sank comfortably back into his chair, but Harry felt his eyes watching Harry's hands.
"Do those hurt?" Padma asked, gesturing to Harry's scarred hands.
"Not anymore," Harry said, smiling. "Sorry, these must be shocking to look at."
"They are noble scars, Mr. Potter," Mr. Patil said. "Don't be ashamed."
"Both of you are making him uncomfortable," Mrs. Patil said. "Harry, eat now. That's an order." She shoveled another mound of rice and meat onto his plate.
"Mum, he's going to explode if he eats all of that," Parvati said, eyes following her mother's serving spoon as it continued doling out food to Harry's over-full plate.
"Yeah, mum, and he's too polite to tell you he's full," Padma joined.
"Oh hush. Look at how skinny he is. He can handle it. He's young!" Mrs. Patil set the spoon down.
"Dear, he's convalescing. Overeating is not good for him either."
"He can take it home," she said. Harry thanked her again and smiled politely at her. When the meal was over, Mr. Patil cleared his throat.
"My daughter's tell me you have empathetic powers resultant from your extraordinary encounter with dementors," Mr. Patil said, elbows leaning comfortably against the arms of his chair, fingers loosely entwined. He was a slim man with an ease about him that bespoke a professional career involving practiced interactions with people.
"They also told me much about your collapse this year. I can't imagine what it must have been like for you and I am so sorry your first experiences as an empath were so traumatic. The talent we share is beautiful and can be used for so much good." Mr. Patil spoke with a gentle, professional tone.
"I'm so grateful to Padma and Parvati for helping. I don't know where I would be now if they hadn't helped me," Harry said, looking to Padma and Parvati.
"They have learned well. Our family have been mind healers since time immemorial." He looked at his daughters fondly. His attention returned to Harry with a questioning look in his eye.
"Harry, have you ever seen a mind healer?" Ms. Patil asked gently.
"My healer suggested it, but no. I've never found the time."
"If you would like, I can help you. What do you say?" Mr. Patil rose and gestured to a door on the far side of the room.
"Go with him, Harry," Parvati said. "Father's the best mind healer in Britain. Harry nodded and followed Mr. Patil through to what he realized was a meditation room sealed with privacy charms.
"Sit, Harry," Mr. Patil said, gesturing to a soft mat on the floor. Harry obeyed, sitting with his legs crossed in front of Mr. Patil. The room was warm and inviting, the natural light filtering in through the window. "Now close your eyes and relax. I am going to enter your mind very gently."
Harry tried his best to relax and allow the gentle presence of Mr. Patil's mind to enter his. Mr. Patil's gentle voice filled his ears.
"I see a great amount of stress caused by many traumatic events. The more stress a mind is under, the less likely it is that your body can cope. With prolonged stress, your body begins to treat any stressful situation like a life-or-death ordeal. How have you been feeling since you were injured?" As he spoke, Harry felt a euphoric sense of calm washing over him.
"I was very unwell for the first month of summer. I received treatment that helped a lot a few weeks ago, but I've been sleeping a lot. It's been frustrating. I just want to put last year behind me and move on with my life."
"There is no such thing as complete closure after truly traumatic events like the ones you have suffered, Harry. Only time can truly heal all wounds. For now, I can calm your mind and help you shield." Mr. Patil hummed softly and continued wrapping Harry's mind in a warm envelope of peace. Harry didn't know how long he'd been there in a deep meditative trance, but before he knew it, an hour had passed and he opened his eyes, refreshed and renewed. It wasn't talk therapy like muggle therapists used, but a magical trance-like state that helped rebuild Harry's shields, which were admittedly flimsy since he came back to life.
"There you are," Mr. Patil said, smiling. "Harry, I know we've just met, but I want you to know that what you went through is an incredibly traumatic thing and you need to rest. I am no doctor, but the state of your physical health impacts your mind significantly. Though it is remarkable that you have recovered so much, it is important that you listen to your body. Rest when you need to, hm?"
"I will, sir. Thank you," Harry said, stretching as he stood. Harry left the Patil household with approximately a month's worth of leftover food.
It was soon time to board the train to Hogwarts again. As he entered the station through the invisible entrance with Draco, he instantly attracted the attention of everyone on the platform. Harry was as squeamish as usual at the feeling of eyes fixed on him, but the crowd was oddly respectful and he found no trouble boarding the train. An older Hufflepuff student opened the train door for him and the other students parted to let Harry onto the train first.
"Spooky," Harry said, looking at Draco.
"You can say that again," Harry said. They waited in a train car near the back for their friends. As they arrived, Harry fielded warm embraces from Ron, Hermione, Neville, Ginny, Cho, Pansy, and even Crabbe and Goyle. Harry again enlarged the train compartment to fit his growing gaggle of friends.
"Would it be unreasonable of me to ask all of you to stop growing? Train car's twice the size it was last year," Harry said, laughing.
He sat by the window comfortably, listening to his friends catch up and talk about their summers. Ron, Hermione, Pansy, and Draco had all been made prefects and Harry smiled as they showed their shiny new badges to each other. He laughed heartily and passed around sweets from the trolley, feeling normal again for the first time in a long while. Wouldn't it be nice, he thought, if he could make the return trip with everyone this year. Warm and comfortable with the afternoon sun shining gently on his face, he fell asleep against the window, his head propped up on his arm.
When the train arrived at Hogwarts, Draco gently nudged him awake. Harry stepped off of the platform behind his friends and hung back, noticing Hagrid wasn't there like he usually was. He shrugged and pet the thestrals hitched to one of the carriages, which he recognized were the same ones that he ran into in the forest last year. He took his gloves off and approached them easily. They were friendly and let Harry stroke their leathery faces. A girl Harry recognized as a fourth year from Ravenclaw walked up to him and stared at him, a dreamy expression on her face. Harry smiled.
"You can see them too?" Harry asked, eyes falling on her radish earrings.
"Yes," she said, still staring at him. She shifted her gaze to Harry's hands.
"Well, whoever it was...I'm sorry," Harry replied, putting his gloves back on.
"That's not all you can see, is it?" the girl asked. Harry scrutinized her expression for a little while.
"I see what's there in front of me like any other person," Harry replied. After he said it, he realized he was probably spending too much time speaking to Legion. He shook his head and laughed. "Sorry, I sound like a fortune cookie. I'm Harry."
"Luna," the girl replied. "I don't think there's a soul in Hogwarts who doesn't know who you are, Harry." She smiled at him, a vacant look in her eyes still. "And thank you," she continued. "I'm sorry for you, too...whoever it was."
"Thanks," Harry replied. They caught up with the other students who were waiting in line to board the carriages.
"Er, hi," Hermione said. "You're Loon-Luna, right?" She sputtered and her face reddened. "I'm so sorry. That came out wrong."
"Oh, it's alright," Luna replied, her voice glassy smooth as if she were in a trance. "You didn't mean it. Besides, a thing like that doesn't really bother me."
"Didn't peg you as the bullying type, Granger," Draco said. He offered his hand, which Luna shook. "Draco," he said. Ron did the same, a curious look on his face.
"I-I'm Ron," he spluttered, avoiding her eyes.
"What? Bullying? Hermione?" Harry asked, looking between Draco and Hermione questioningly.
"Oh that's right, you don't partake in the petty gossip. It's beneath you," Draco laughed. "The silly girls in Ginny's year call her Loony Lovegood. It's all extremely petty."
"And hurtful," Harry said. "I'm so sorry, Luna. You're not looney."
"I am a little," Luna laughed jokingly. Her light, bell-like giggle bubbled out easily from her small, pink lips. "I learned not to care a long time ago. There are more important things to worry about."
"She's got the right idea. Taking criticism is part of growing up, but she did nothing to deserve that. Her father publishes this magazine and that's why the other kiddos think they can make fun of her. It's nonsensical." Draco continued.
"It's called the Quibbler. He's quite proud of it actually." She handed out copies of it to everyone in line with her.
"I'm so sorry, Luna," Hermione repeated. "I just hear Lavender and the other girls saying it. It was a force of habit."
"Oh no, Hermione," Luna said, expression unchanged. "I can tell you didn't mean it." Harry glanced at her briefly and had the feeling she really could tell. The group kept chatting about the Quibbler and its newest article. Luna gave them a brief introduction to nargles before the prefects needed to board their own carriage. Harry and Luna were the last to board their carriage and of them had an entire car to themselves.
"I think the Quibbler's a good read, Luna," Harry said, gesturing to the open magazine in his lap. "It's actually quite accurate. I saw this one in the forest last year," he said, pointing to a picture of a flower with a snake's head illustrated on the page he was on. "I don't see what the problem with this is. It's a compendium of rare magical creature sightings and other oddities. I mean some of these might not be true, but it's entertaining. You know what it is? People don't know how to have fun."
Harry was almost talking to himself. When he looked up, he jumped in surprise. Luna's face was inches away from his. Her eyes were alive with excitement, the first real reaction he'd gotten from her since they met.
"You saw a cobra lilly? Here?" She plopped down next to him, getting uncomfortably close.
"Yeah just stumbled on 'em one day. Wasn't really looking for them," Harry said, laughing. Luna continued staring at him.
"Uh, well I can bring you with me next time I go in the forest. I know my way around."
"Oh thank you!" Luna said, practically vibrating with excitement. "I'll tell father to let you have a free subscription. Least I could do." Harry smiled at the puzzling girl before him.
After they entered the castle and settled in for the feast, Harry pointedly tuned out the headmaster's speech. When Dumbledore was interrupted by the unpleasant pink woman who spoke out against him at Sirius's hearing, he even turned the other way.
"Harry, the ministry's up to something," Hermione said.
"Yeah, Harry, you listening to any of this?" Ron asked, focusing angrily on the Umbridge woman. "I don't want to learn defense from that one. Father talks about her all the time and she's terrible."
"Nope," Harry said, continuing to turn pointedly away from the faculty table. "Not my problem. Whatever it is, Harry bloody Potter is on sabbatical. I will have a normal year, by Merlin!" He ranted maniacally like a crotchety old man, wagging his finger in no direction in particular. Harry knew he was lying to himself even as the other Gryffindors around him laughed at his antics. He needed to get the creature possessing Dumbledore out of his body, but he wasn't sure how. Having to deal with the ministry on top of that problem was not going to help, so he was going to ignore the pink woman...at least until she got in his way.
"Ministry? What ministry? Never heard of them. Oh no. That problem? What problem? Nope," Harry said, still focusing on the wrong side of the room. Hermione shook her head as she snickered. At last the students were allowed to eat.
"Hey Harry," Ron said, mouth full. "What's with those gloves?"
"Oh I forgot. Better take them off before I get them covered in mash," Harry said, taking them off. "I started wearing them a little while ago." Harry rubbed his scarred hands together. Some students stared, but he shrugged it off.
"I have some nerve damage or something. Can't keep them warm." He continued eating, ignoring more concerned stares. The other students were acting strange again. He wasn't sure if he missed the whispering or preferred it over the whipped expression on everyone's faces at the sight of the only visible evidence of what happened to Harry last term.
"Those still hurt?" little Dennis Creevey asked from a little farther down the table.
"No, Dennis. They're a little ugly, but not all of me could stay perfect you know," Harry replied, striking a pose. Dennis laughed and Harry smiled at him. The exchange broke the tension a little bit, but not as much as Harry hoped. Harry endured the prickling discomfort of being watched until the feast was mercifully over. He climbed straight into bed and used his two-way mirror to contact Tom.
"Why, good evening, good sir," Tom said, looking up from a map in front of him. He was back in more civilized surroundings and wearing some kind of uniform.
"Hm yes, it is, good fellow, indeed, indeed," Harry responded in his best posh accent.
"Are you mocking me?" Tom asked, chuckling.
"Of course I am," Harry said, hugging a pillow to his chest. "You're not going to believe what I found."
"What?"
"Another piece of your bloody soul, is what!" Harry produced the toy soldier. "It was in a gaudy-looking locket in a dusty trunk at Sirius's house. It almost got thrown out into the street. Are your other horcruxes strewn about like this in strange places?" Tom's face contorted in confusion.
"Wha-I'm certain I hid that one submerged in a bowl of cursed potion, in a cave, surrounded by a lake of inferi."
"Don't joke around here. I thought you said you hid them in safe places." A lake of inferi? Ridiculous.
"What's safer than a lake of rabid inferi? No one gets away with stealing from me," Tom said, face stone serious. Okay, maybe not so ridiculous.
"Well however it got there, I have it now. Next time I see you, I'll put it back where it belongs." Harry tucked the little figure back into the pouch that hung around his neck.
"Thank you, Harry. I'll try to work out how it got to the Black house. Only a few people knew where I hid that one."
"Shouldn't you check on your other ones? If this one was taken from its hiding spot, there's no telling what happened to the others."
"I'll check on them and bring them to you. I probably can't get to you until at least the holidays, what with both of us being in school now," Tom sighed,slouching farther into what Harry realized was a very deep leather couch.
"Where are you?"
"You're not going to believe it, but I'm in Durmstrang." Tom picked up the mirror and revealed an empty sitting room comparable to the Gryffindor common room, albeit decorated in furs and other distinctly Slavic furnishings.
"How'd you manage that? Who'd you imperius?" Harry asked, bewildered.
"Didn't have to. New headmaster is a Death Eater, a real one. His name is Antonin Sokolov and he took over for Karkaroff. Vouched for me and told everyone I was 16. My cover story is that I'm a British orphan and I moved to Bulgaria with my muggle father who died suddenly a few years ago. By all appearances, I'm a normal student who discovered he was magical later in life." Tom had a wide smile on his face.
"You liking having to relive your teenage years?" Harry asked.
"Oh it's so entertaining. The petty drama, the hormones. I'm never bored."
"You would say that." Harry rolled into his back. "Why'd you decide to do this now?"
Tom laid back on the couch he was on. "I figured if I wanted to be able to take advantage of this second chance, I would build up my new identity. Even picked out a new name for myself."
"Oh? Like you did for Locke? Very nerdy, by the way," Harry said.
"You know I used to dismember people in the old days for that level of snark," Tom said, laughing quietly. "But I'll keep you around. No, I picked one out from my genealogy records. I found a nice, generic, muggle last name. Tom Steward. The Stewards are very distant relatives. Americans. Can you believe it? Anyhow, not traceable at all because it is so generic and so muggle. Perfect, right?"
"Oh to be anonymous," Harry said. "I would do anything to be just Harry again."
"I can see the allure of anonymity. Being just Tom and not the dark lord will be refreshing for a little while."
"Well, 'just Tom,' I'm glad you're having fun. People keep staring at me."
"Well, 'just Harry,' maybe you shouldn't have died a horrible, painful death last year," Tom said in a singsong voice.
"I need this school to forget that happened. I'm alive again, aren't I? Nothing's changed."
"That's not true and you know it. You're all what, 15 this year? Your classmates are starting to grow up. Their worlds are getting more serious," Tom said.
"They've seen me get hurt before. Everyone's just staring at me with this weird expression on their faces. Someone even opened a door for me earlier! I don't like it."
"They feel bad for how they treated you last year, Harry. Heard all about it from Barty. Half the school was being awful to you. Just let it be for now. It'll probably get better."
Harry pouted. "I hope you're right."
The next morning as Harry was heading to breakfast, Fred and George grabbed him under each arm and lifted him bodily to a reasonably empty hallway near the Great Hall. They stood in front of him, arms crossed looking for the first time like they were cross.
"Harry Potter you whore!" they said in unison. A group of first years walking past them jumped and hurried to get out of the way.
"Oh now look what you've done. They're going to be talking about that," Harry said, not at all serious.
"Don't you try to change the subject, Potter," Fred said, still trying his best to look angry.
"Yeah, you funded our joke shop using your tournament prize money," George said.
"Oh?" Harry asked, smiling innocently. "I don't know what you're talking about. I thought you had an anonymous investor."
The twins looked at each other and both rushed up to Harry and squeezed the life out of him, laughing. Harry was taken aback.
"What's this all about? Let me go before I really suffocate," Harry choked, laughing.
"We were just pulling your leg, Potter," Fred continued.
"Thank you, Harry. We were going to ask, but you were ill all summer. Percy gets a fancy new job taking care of your investments and we're the first people you thought of. We can't thank you enough," George said. The twins let go of him and straightened him out.
"How did you know? Percy didn't tell, did he?" Harry asked.
"You really thought we wouldn't find out?" George said. "We suddenly had an investor who happened to know Percy, knew we wanted to start a joke shop, and invested the exact amount of the prize money? You're not fooling us, Potter," Fred said. "Money like that doesn't come from nowhere, especially not to a pair of unruly commoners like us. The only person we know with the money and the kindness to do this for us was you."
"We'll use the money well and you'll be our full partner," Fred said.
"I don't expect you to pay me back," Harry said. "I didn't want that prize money to begin with."
"Oh we'll pay you back with interest," George said, almost vindictively. "To get you back for trying to go behind our backs."
"Yeah, you asked for it, you generous asshole. Just take the money when it comes, Potter," Fred joined. Harry laughed again, shaking his head. The twins hugged him again, more gently this time. When they released him, Harry asked, "What was that for?"
"Not dyin'," they responded. Each twin slung an arm around Harry's shoulders and walked him to the Great Hall. The group sat at the Gryffindor table where Hermione had initiated discussions about the OWLs and how those tests would impact the rest of their lives. Fred and George groaned, remembering last year's test and grumbled about not needing NEWTs to live life. Their usual antics helped diffuse the awkward atmosphere around Harry. Angelina Johnson struck up a conversation about the new quidditch team and Harry started to feel normalcy returning to his life.
The first Defense class of the year began. Unused to seeing the Defense classroom occupied by such an unpleasant woman, Harry decided pointedly to sit in the back of the room. He practically lived in the classroom last year spending time with Barty and the loss of such a refuge hit Harry harder than he thought it would. Unbridge was waiting for them at the front of the room.
"Good morning," she began, her voice high and pleasant. She wore a pastel green dress with a hideous hot pink blazer. Her mouth was stuck in a practiced smile that brought a toad-like expression to her face.
"As you know, the ministry has tasked me with the responsibility of educating you because of this school's recent, tumultuous reputation." Umbridge paced slowly back and forth in front of the room. Her eyes followed Harry despite his best efforts to avoid her gaze.
"Defense will be taught quite differently this year, given the lacking instruction you have all received since starting school," she continued. "We will be limiting our spellwork to spells selected by myself and the minister himself." Confused, the students opened their textbooks, each one sneering at the selection of weak tickling charms and defensive spells they found there. Harry didn't bother opening it.
"Professor, if I may," Hermione began, "these spells will not prepare us for our O.W.L.s, nor will they prepare us to defend ourselves."
"5 points from Gryffindor. I did not call on you, Ms. Granger. Do not speak out of turn again. I assure you these spells are perfectly in line with the examination requirements. As for self defense, the wizarding world is perfectly safe and you will have no need for such harmful spells."
Seamus Finnegan raised his hand. Umbridge pointedly ignored him. "Oy," he barked. "Miss, you can take as many points as you like from me, but I'm speaking. Our professors have been excellent and we want to learn how to use our magic responsibly. Professor Lupin taught us that we are learning to control the destructive power each of us is capable of. You're denying us that chance."
"Twenty points from Gryffindor," Umbridge said. "Anyone else?" The room was quiet.
"And what about you, Mr. Potter," Umbridge said, walking to him, her bright pink kitten heels tapping the floor. "You've built yourself a reputation for bringing danger to this school. What do you say?"
"I have nothing to say, Professor," he replied, staring straight ahead of him with a schooled expression on his face.
"Insolence," she said, voice still high and sweet. "That has earned you a detention." Harry did not react and continued staring at the chalk board at the front of the room. The rest of the class seemed ready to burst, but they remained silent as Harry shook his head.
"What the bloody hell was that about?" Ron asked once the door to the defense classroom was well behind them.
"He's right, Harry," Hermione said, "That was totally out of line. I'm going to McGonagall."
"Hermione, wait," Harry said gently. "I don't want to give McGonagall trouble. Umbridge is a Ministry puppet trying to make an example of me. I can handle it. I'll let you know as soon as I can't."
Harry dutifully reported to his detention, no matter how underserved it was. He entered Umbridge's office and was horrified at the transformation it had undergone. There were moving portraits of cats trapped in the narrow confines of small tea plates mounted on the wall, which was covered in a plush, pink wallpaper. Everywhere he looked, Harry found something frilly and pink in the worst way possible.
"Have a seat, Mr. Potter," Umbridge said, beckoning to a chair in front of her desk. Harry obeyed, choosing to stay silent. "As punishment for your insolence today, you will write the words 'I will behave' until the hour is up." Harry looked at the materials before him and smiled, shaking his head. He knew what the sickly looking quill before him was from the waves of malignant dark magic emanating from it. He had a morbid curiosity for dark artifacts that he'd learned from Barty last year. Back then, he stole more than a few books on dark magic from him and read them for fun.
Harry picked up the quill and admired the artifact closely. A blood quill draws a wizard's blood instead of ink. Whenever you use one, it will take any exposed blood from a user's body to use as ink. They were invented by Chinese wizards. Chinese Buddhists emphasized imitating the buddhas, including one who used his very skin, bones,and blood to record sutras. Most faithful practitioners copied the sutras in blood dyed crimson with a vegetarian diet and anticoagulant agents. The wizards who made the quill Harry held in his hands allowed it to repeatedly draw fresh blood from open wounds.
As he was lost in his thoughts, Umbridge coughed quietly, clearly impatient for Harry to begin writing. Harry set the quill down and rolled up the sleeve of his left arm. With the sharp nib of the pen, Harry gouged a sizeable wound into the inside of his arm. Umbridge screamed.
"What on earth are you doing, boy?" She snarled, pushing herself as far away as she could from the blood. Harry blinked at her as though she was an animal in a zoo. He held up his bleeding arm and showed it to her. The blood was being siphoned away magically and the blood quill was aglow with a warm red light. Harry pressed the nib to the parchment before him and wrote "I will behave'" in bright red blood on the parchment.
"How did you do that?" Umbridge asked, leaning away from Harry's blood. Her eyes followed the quill's progress on the page. You were supposed to write and the blood would have come from the back of your hand. Why did you mutilate your own arm?
"Oh, I just assumed you knew how these worked," Harry said, still focused on his writing.
"Why did you need to cut yourself?" Umbridge asked, sweating in her seat. "You could have just let the blood come from the back of your hand. That was unnecessary."
"Where did you get this blood quill?" Harry asked, ignoring her question. "These are quite rare, as the enchantments on them are very, very dark."
"You would know, wouldn't you," Umbridge spat. "You and your den of dark wizards."
"Hey, I'm not the one who smuggled a dark artifact into school. Shall I turn this in to the headmaster or-"
"Shut up!" she snapped, face turning a shade of red that was oddly complimentary to the garish shade of pink she wore. Harry smiled at her, genuinely finding her amusing. He locked eyes with her as she started on a crazed rant. It was hard to find anything useful without alerting her to his presence in her mind, but the memories at the forefront of her mind were clear. What he found there unnerved him. He saw Dolohov of all people, a foot propped up on a desk in a room covered with the telltale, peacock blue tile of the ministry of magic. Harry's smile slipped from his features and he looked at Umbridge with a renewed sense of dread. Harry didn't speak again for the rest of detention and he filled the parchment with words written in his own blood. He needed to be careful now that he knew she was here on Dolohov's orders.
As he left Umbridge's office, he hurriedly bandaged his arm with a flick of his wand and tugged his sleeve down over the wound. As he neared the Gryffindor common room, he stopped and sat heavily onto the floor, back pressed against the wall. It was getting late, so the halls were empty, but he disillusioned himself just in case. He pressed his back against the stone and curled his spine so that every part of his back was touching the wall, breathing deep. Tumultuous thoughts spun through his mind and his heart pounded in his chest as the adrenaline slowly worked its way out of his system. He needed calm, now more than ever. Harry was keenly aware of how bad the situation was. If Umbridge was working for Dolohov, then Harry had to assume the whole ministry was lost.
One thing at a time, young one, Legion cooed in his ear, soothing the anger in his blood. We must first address the Old One. They were right, as they usually were. One battle at a time. Umbridge was going to have to be a minor problem. He needed to hide all of what he knew from everyone to prevent tensions from rising too quickly in the school. Umbridge could use her position in the ministry to do anything to the school. It was much better, Harry decided, if he mollified Umbridge for the time being and kept his head down.
After settling into his first week of classes, Harry met Luna outside of the Forbidden Forest during one of their free hours. She was wearing a very practical pair of boots, long hiking pants, and a poncho that looked fairly waterproof. Harry looked down at himself in his jeans and plain t-shirt and felt like a tourist on a hike.
"Hey Luna," he said, cheerfully.
"Thank you so much for inviting me out here, Harry," Luna said, squealing. "I'm so ready to see these cobra lilies. They're so rare, you have no idea."
"No problem, Luna. I just hope they're where I remember them being." Harry led her into the forest where the trees seemed to leave open a path padded with fresh green grass just for him. After about a twenty minute walk, they made it to a small grove of trees, under which grew clusters of cobra lilies rattling softly with the wind. Luna seemed to forget how to speak and approached the plants very slowly. Some of the half-snake half-lily plants hooded up, but could not harm her because, well, they were flowers. As she crouched to observe the plants with her magnifying glass, Harry saw something out of the corner of his eye. A person-shaped cloud of spiritual energy hovered by Luna. The figure was black and distorted the forest around it. It was a woman, tall and burly, with an almost opaque body made of black smoke, and glowing red eyes. She was watching Luna with a relaxed posture, eyes watching her as she moved from plant to plant. She looked up at Harry and cocked her head.
"Can you see me?" She asked, voice deep and dour. Harry nodded, moving closer to Luna.
"Would you like to see more? I ran into plenty of things last year I didn't know the names of," Harry asked, careful not to make eye contact with the spectral woman.
"Of course I would! But maybe next time? My free hour's almost up and I need to finish some reading before class." She got up, taking pictures of the plants in front of her for the magazine. Harry led her out of the forest. The spectral woman followed them out, circling Harry curiously, a hand resting thoughtfully on her chin. Harry dropped Luna off at the edge of the forest.
"Thank you, Harry!" she said as she walked up the small hill back to Hogwarts. As she waved, she frowned a little and squinted at Harry.
"No problem, Luna!" Harry called, waving back at her. He didn't dare look at his new visitor. "I'll be back up soon. Go on ahead!"
"Oh okay, Harry!" She replied, still looking uneasy. He watched her go and made sure no one else was around before turning to the shadow woman.
"Er, hi, I'm Harry. It's nice to meet you." The shadow woman didn't move or reply to him. She circled him, eyeing him up and down.
"The spirits chose a young one. It's been a while, hasn't it, old friend?"
"Wha-"
It has, demon, Legion said. We have been dormant long. Much of the world has changed.
"You never came to look for me," the woman said, now poking and prodding at Harry. "I was a little sad, but oh there were other things keeping me preoccupied. I won't take it personally."
You have been here all along, demon. Legion said dryly. Why have you not revealed yourself to us.
"I was preoccupied," the demon repeated, grabbing one of Harry's hands and examining it. "I'm sure you've noticed that Death has worked its way into a human here. The forest had other problems, so I left it alone. The forest is my first priority. I noticed the forest was acting strangely, letting strangers in. Would you imagine my surprise in discovering that it was your new toy."
"I'm not a-"
"Hush, toy," she said, not unkindly. "Now I don't know why you and the forest seem to like this human, but I don't want him getting in my way."
The young one has the power to chase death out of the old one's body. He requires guidance.
"Well, good luck with that," the demon said. "I have my hands full doing some real work, unlike you, spirits. I have a forest that needs stabilizing and Death to deal with. Help if you want, but I'm telling you putting your hopes on this human is going to take centuries. The forest cannot wait that long." Though her words were harsh, the demon spoke with a matter-of-fact tone. She retreated to the forest, not sparing time to look at Harry.
"What's with her?" Harry asked, flustered, but no more than usual when it came to the spirits. "The forest is unstable? What's that mean?"
She is a demon, an old one. We believe she is referring to the realms within the forest becoming more unstable.
"Realms?" Harry started a leisurely stroll back up the hill to the castle.
The forest is unplottable for a reason. The forest has guided you to many different places since it took a liking to you. Rather than being a new part of the forest, each new patch of land was a new dimension sectioned off from this world. When the school was first built, over a thousand years ago, the founders negotiated with the magical creatures that resided here to create a safe haven in exchange for taking up so much land. Together, they created these pocket dimensions to provide enough space protected from the outside world for these creatures to live in peace. No one alive still remembers this.
"That's not good," Harry said as the implications of such a collapse hit him. "If the forest's dimensions were to collapse, wouldn't that mean Hogwarts is in danger? The backlash of the collapse could destroy the school." Legion was silent, but Harry could hear the grumblings of many voices. Harry couldn't shake the impending disaster from his thoughts as he walked back to the castle.
The detentions continued for the remainder of the week and he remained silent for Defense class unless he'd been called on. Umbridge, as dangerous as she was, proved to be rather dense and never noticed when Harry cast faint disillusionment charms over himself or used legilimency to nudge her away from calling on him. Despite his best efforts, however, Umbridge still managed to subject him to detentions at least three times a week. The worrying wound on his arm remained open because of the quill's enchantments and never had the chance to heal. He cast a long-term glamour and hid it easily from his friends.
Harry also noticed a rather annoying problem, namely, that he was sleepy. He found himself napping at every opportunity to avoid falling asleep in class. At every meal break, he would eat quickly and find a sunny spot in the main courtyard to sleep. Between classes, he would sleep in the library or in his next classroom if it was empty. After classes were over for the day, he'd fall asleep studying in the common room or in the grass in the sundial courtyard. Harry was certain his friends and professors noticed that he was falling asleep, well, everywhere, but if they knew, they didn't say anything.
One day, Harry woke from his mid-morning nap with a blanket on his shoulders. He was in the library at a small desk between two stacks near the back of the library and no one else was there with him. The blanket was clearly conjured and Harry banished it before standing up and walking around to look for whoever conjured it. Finding no one, he shrugged and gave up the search. When he questioned his friends, no one knew what he was talking about. Harry let it go the first few times it happened, but the fourth or fifth time, his curiosity got the best of him. Harry couldn't even begin to guess who could have done it, but it only happened when Harry was outside of the common room. It couldn't have been a Gryffindor. One afternoon, out of sheer chance, Harry was only lightly sleeping when he felt someone cover him with a blanket. He cracked one eye open just in time to see the glint of a prosthetic foot peeking out from a trouser leg disappear behind a bookshelf.
The other matter that was urgently demanding his attention was the forbidden forest. On his list of priorities, preventing the forest's pocket dimensions from collapsing and destroying the school had suddenly forced its way to the top. He needed more time to think about how he was going to liberate Dumbledore's body anyhow. Harry began his research by spending his nights sneaking out of the dorm to read the historical texts housed in the library. There were a number of journals written by the founders themselves kept under lock and key for preservation's sake. Madam Pince's security charms were good, but not good enough to keep Harry out. Although the original journals were written in Old English because they predated Modern English, there were English translations stored along with the originals. Harry spent a few nights copying them and spent the next week reading during Defense. Umbridge made good on her promise not to teach anything useful and most class sessions were spent on silent reading. Harry knew everything in the textbook, so it was a simple thing to enchant the copied journal to look like his textbook and revert to the textbook with a simple gesture.
The journals were informative. Each founder had a different role to play in the formation of the forest's pocket dimensions. Hufflepuff led the negotiations with the creatures of the forest, Ravenclaw designed the schematics for a massive rune that would power the dimensions, Slytherin built the rune, and Gryffindor designed what Harry supposed was a magical battery that evenly distributed the magical energy to each dimension. It was a rare glimpse into the founders' relationship when they were still at peace and still friends. Harry spent a few afternoons wondering how anyone could have missed this, how nobody knew about the massive rune that lay in the heart of the forest. The information never appeared in any of the history books about Hogwarts.
After reading all of the journals, Harry learned that the founders funneled every ounce of magic they had at the time into the rune. If it took four of the greatest wizards who ever lived to power the rune, there was very little chance Harry could do it alone. Even then, Harry worried that the rune would fail again and Hogwarts may not be as lucky a second time. The longevity of the rune was unclear. It appeared that the rune could fail as early as tomorrow or as late as the next decade, but it was clearly failing. That Death Eaters were able to use the forest to gain access to Hogwarts the year before was evidence enough of that. He needed Ravenclaw's schematics to solve the issue of the rune breaking down again.
By the end of the third week of school, Harry was exhausted. He didn't even want to think about quidditch. Although he'd been absent for try-outs, Harry was gratified to learn that Ron won a position as keeper. Ron had his faults as a player and Harry worried about his daydreaming getting in the way of his playing, but he was a massive improvement on the pig-headed wealthy ponce Cormac McLaggen, who'd been the competition.
The first practice session of the year began with Harry feeling like he'd been hit by a truck and he struggled to stay awake through Katie Bell's speech to her players. He dozed off briefly and he woke just in time to make eye contact with Katie, who winked at him and went on talking. As the first drill of the season began, Harry let the training snitch loose. It was one he modified in his third year to fly faster than the average snitch. It kept him on his toes and helped improve his dexterity on the broom. He stretched his long-unused quidditch muscles. He could plainly see that the whole team was rusty since quidditch had been cancelled last year.
The training snitch zigzagged around the pitch with Harry close behind. Harry focused hard, slowly bringing his broom to top speed. His muscles ached as it became more difficult to swing his broom around at sharp angles. Despite the fatigue, it was still exhilarating to be on a broom again chasing a snitch around in open air. His teammates kept up with the hectic game, all of their training coming back to them. The twins maneuvered the bludgers around the chasers and Harry, making sure their paths were free and clear. Harry, in turn, dodged his teammates as he corkscrewed in the air chasing after the snitch. They were a good team to begin with, their cohesive gameplay born from many late nights out on the pitch.
As Harry directed more focus on the snitch, he caught sight of something headed for his face. Unable to muster the strength to pull his broom away, the projectile struck his face just to the right of his nose. Harry saw stars as he was flung spinning off of his broom at a dangerous speed. Acting on instinct, he transformed into his animagus form and flared his great wings to stop his spinning. He allowed his animal instincts to flip him upright as he fell. He pumped his wings a few times to slow his shaky descent onto the grass. Reversing the transformation, he landed roughly in the grass and fell onto all fours, clutching his nose. Blood dribbled from his nose freely and he coughed, choking a bit on the blood that trickled down the back of his throat. Harry spat and breathed hard, letting his forehead fall forward toward the grass as he regained his bearings. He was nauseous from the fall and his hasty transformation. His team rushed to his side, gentle hands rubbing his back.
"Harry, mate," Katie said, her voice urgent, "I need to see your face. Can you sit up?" Still winded and in pain, Harry pushed himself up with the trembling arm that wasn't still holding his nose. The twins grabbed him under each arm and held him in an upright position. Harry took his bloody hand off of his nose and more blood dribbled down the front of his uniform. As his vision cleared, he could see the pained expressions of his teammates, who hissed in sympathy at the sight of Harry's clearly broken nose.
"I'm so sorry!" Ron said, kneeling in front of him. "I didn't mean to hit you!"
"Hold this against his nose," Katie said, handing Ron a cloth she conjured. "No use for apologies now, Weasley. This is why kicking the quaffle is against the rules." Harry snorted painfully, realizing that he'd been beaned in the face because Ron kicked the quaffle.
"S'okay, Ron," Harry said, taking the cloth from him and holding it against his nose, "I still have all my teeth." The team chuckled, but it was clear everyone was shaken.
"You lot keep practicing. I'll take Harry up to Madam Pomfrey," Katie ordered. The twins hoisted Harry up and he followed Katie out of the stadium.
"I should have been able to dodge that quaffle," Harry said before she even had a chance to speak.
"No worries, Harry. Nobody could have dodged that," she said, looking searchingly at Harry. "You look tired. I just wanted to make sure you were alright. I know you were hurt bad last year and you might still be recovering. Please don't feel pressured to keep on playing if you're unwell. You're still the best seeker in all of Hogwarts, but your health is our first priority."
Harry was surprised and a lump formed in his throat. His body was almost completely recovered from his ordeal thanks to the healing he received all summer. He couldn't deny that despite all of his recovery, he was still tiring more quickly than before and fell asleep often. His many obligations this year definitely exacerbated his fatigue.
"Er, thank you, Katie. I am still recovering. I'm doing well, but I'm just tired. I didn't want to let the team down."
Katie shook her head and patted Harry's shoulder companionably. "Nah, Potter," she said, "I'm not Oliver. Thanks to you we won two years ago. I've had my glory and the older ones agree. What's important now is that you recover." A few moments of silence passed between them. He was a sight walking through the school with a bloody mess down his front. The school would be talking for sure.
"I have a suggestion," Katie said. "How about we recruit another seeker and you two can take turns? I know you love playing, but alternating games and practice will give you more time to rest. You can coach the new seeker."
"That sounds like a good idea," Harry responded, still sounding funny because of his nose.
"Any suggestions?"
"Oh, Ginny. Only other person in all of Gryffindor who can catch a snitch." The idea came to Harry easily.
"She did perform well at tryouts. No surprise since half our team is made up of Weasleys. Then it's settled. I'll talk to Ginny." Katie dropped Harry off at the hospital wing and went back to the pitch. At the sight of him, Madam Pomfrey tsked and dragged him to his private wing. He explained what happened as Madam Pomfrey cleaned the blood from his face and clothes.
"At least it was pure bad luck and not your usual antics that did this to you. The nose I can fix, but that shiner is going to have to heal on its own." She set his bones back in place with the flick of a wand. Harry grimaced at the uncomfortable sensation of bones shifting around in his face. She gave him a potion for the bruising and strict orders to have a lie-down until dinner.
Harry flopped onto his bed after changing and pulled out his mirror. He caught sight of his own reflection and groaned. That black eye was going to be there a few weeks. Tom's face appeared and he also grimaced.
"Merlin's beard, man. What happened to you?" Tom asked. He was sitting outside under a tree.
"Took a quaffle to the face," he said.
"This is why I don't like quidditch. Still, that doesn't sound like you. Aren't you good at flying?"
"Normally, yeah. My stamina hasn't been great. I guess my body isn't as recovered as I thought it was."
Tom's face softened at Harry's tone. "I'm not surprised after what happened to you. You're on the mend for sure, but you need to give yourself time to get better."
"I am," Harry sighed, "or I'm trying. The Forbidden Forest collapsing and the Umbridge problem are running me ragged again."
"You've mentioned that before. I agree, the forest is a much bigger problem and we won't know what Umbridge is playing at until she shows her hand. I do believe I can help with the forest. Talk to the Grey Lady. She's Rowena Ravenclaw's daughter."
"What? Why didn't you mention that before?"
Tom shrugged. "Didn't seem important before. She's also a bit of a recluse. You'll have to really get her attention."
"How did you get her to talk to you?"
"Why, with my charm, of course." Tom smiled devilishly and Harry couldn't help but laugh at his expression.
Tracking down the Gray Lady was proving to be difficult. She only appeared during mealtimes and disappeared through a wall immediately after making her rounds in the Great Hall. Harry even tried scouting the halls at night on the off chance he might catch her floating around. No dice. Wherever she was, Harry would need to follow her through the castle walls. One day, after his latest failure to catch up with her at breakfast, Harry ran into Luna, who was reading a book while walking in a slow, aimless circle around the clock tower courtyard. She wasn't wearing shoes.
"Hey Luna," Harry said, looking quizzically at her bare feet. "What happened to your shoes?"
"Oh someone stole them," she said, eyes looking off into nowhere. "I'd like them back, of course, but my feet are alright as they are for now. Not a catastrophe."
Laughing, Harry pulled out his wand. "Accio Luna's shoes," he said. A pair of pink chucks flew from some unknown hideaway and into Harry's hands. He helped her toe them on.
"You'll have to teach me that one," Luna said, smiling. "Now it's your turn. What are you wandering out here for?"
"Can't get anything past you, can I? I'm trying to track down the Grey Lady. I need to ask her a question about the founders."
"Oh," Luna said, looking at him with interest. "She wanders the castle in the daytime, not sure where. She usually hangs around the common room at night."
"That's really helpful, Luna. Thanks."
"Thank you for my shoes," she said, smiling. She drifted into the castle.
"That was good information, but unless there's a spell that can make me pass through walls, I think I've hit a dead end." Harry sighed as he wandered a slow circle in the courtyard.
Perhaps it is time we moved onto your next lesson. Legion said. We intended to teach you this lesson when you were older, young one, but it seems you are in need.
"What? Teach me what?"
To place your soul into the physical world. Some have called this astral projection. Your soul would wander out of your physical form.
"That sounds dangerous."
Your instincts are correct. It is very dangerous, but your strength in matters of the spiritual world led us to believe you would be capable of mastering it.
Harry felt a strange sense of pride bloom in his chest. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, Legion."
Later that night, Harry snuck out of the dorm room to go to the Room of Requirement. Legion appeared before him.
"Lie down," they said, gesturing to the carpet that appeared in the room. "When your soul leaves your body, you will appear to be in a deep sleep." Harry obeyed.
"Take hold of your soul and ease it out of your body into the astral plane. Close your eyes and open them in the astral plane. Leave a link to your body so that you may find your way back."
Harry obeyed, concentrating hard on his own soul. He imagined being lifted out of his body like the inner layer of a nesting doll. When he opened his eyes, he was met with the familiar washed out tones of the astral plane, lines of magic racing all around him. He got up and looked down to find the eerie sight of his own body lying unconscious on the floor.
"Yikes. Is that what I really look like?" Harry said, nose scrunching up as he examined himself. "I look beat. Even by my standards."
You do require rest, Legion said, amused. Many have told you this again and again. Perhaps now you will listen? You have done well.
"I'll try," he said, shrugging. "Now I need to find the Grey Lady. Should be up in the Ravenclaw dormitory." It was a strange sensation, being out of his body. Harry felt the chill of the night air pass through his very bones as his spirit flew up and out of the castle, passing its ancient walls. When he arrived in the blue-curtained dormitory, the room was dark and there were no students in the common room. He looked around, appreciating the graceful architecture of the white-marbled room.
"This is so much nicer than ours," he said, slightly jealous. He searched the room, creeping through the boys and girls dorms as the students slept. No one could see or hear him, which was a bit unnerving. When he made it to the girls dorm, he found the Grey Lady there seated next to Luna's bed.
"Who are you?" she asked, rising from her seat. "You're a little lion aren't you? What are you doing here?"
"I'm a friend of Luna's," Harry said. "Don't worry, I'm not really here. My body's, er, somewhere else."
"You're a spirit?" the Grey Lady asked, alarm on her face. "And you're dead? I must alert your head of house." Harry scrambled to stop her.
"No, I'm not dead. I have power over the dead, but please, don't tell anyone. I don't want to get in trouble."
The Grey Lady considered Harry for a moment and sat down again, motioning for Harry to come closer. She looked into his eyes. "You're not lying."
"Of course not," Harry said, a little unnerved by her dead stare.
"No, I can tell," she said, smiling. She looked lovingly at Luna. "This one is a special one. I can tell that, too. So much more interesting than the others who've come through here."
"She is," Harry said, "but the other girls need to stop stealing her shoes." The Grey Lady smiled at Harry.
"How did you know about that?"
"I helped her get them back this afternoon."
"You are kind. I'd wondered about that. I usually have to tell her where they hid them. Pity it keeps happening. Poor thing won't tell her head of house about it."
"She wouldn't do that," Harry said. "I get the feeling nothing bothers her." The Grey Lady stared at Harry again, her expression softening.
"You must have come here for a reason, little lion," she said finally. "Did you want to ask about my mother or the diadem? That is the usual reason people seek me out."
"No, I know all about that. Sorry the bloody Baron did that to you. Very poor behavior. Doubly sorry that you have to spend eternity so near your murderer and a sexual predator. I'm actually interested in whether you know about the rune in the middle of the forbidden forest." Her eyes grew serious.
"You know about that?"
"Of course. I'm worried the rune will fail very soon. The forest has shown signs of deterioration."
"Yes, that is concerning. I will tell you what I know." The Grey Lady proceeded to describe the years of planning that led to the creation of the rune.
"My mother and the others formed a treaty with the centaurs and other magical creatures that live in the forest. The centaurs guard it from danger and the forest was to be sacred ground protected from outside dangers. Godric connected my mother's rune design to a gem at the center of the rune filled with magic. The power necessary to power the rune took everything they had and at great cost to their bodies. They laid insensible for many days after. Now you say it is failing. Do not tell me you wish to restore it alone?"
"I must," Harry said. "If anyone else knew about the rune, who knows what could happen to the creatures in the forest? Who knows if the wizards of this age will honor the treaty? There have already been so many conflicts with the centaurs. I'm looking for a way to prevent the rune from breaking down ever again, to keep the creatures who call it home safe forever."
"The power source is at the center of the rune," the Grey Lady continued. "If you can connect a different power source to the rune, one that was renewable, the rune could function without the need to restore it again. I know my mother's designs. The rune itself is sound so long as the power source does not fail." Harry thought for a moment.
"This is good news. The forest itself is a magical entity full to the brim with magical energy. It is a sentient being, so the energy is renewable. Thank you, my lady."
"I thank you for your kindness," she replied. Harry looked at her, the grey bloodstain down the front of her bodice still clearly visible.
"Can I...help you, perhaps? Would you like me to send you on? You don't have to suffer here any longer." She smiled gently at him.
"You are not the first to offer, but you are kind. I can see the astral plane there clear as day. The Baron and I have grown so old, our mortal pains have long since faded to complacency. These children are too important to me. I can never leave. I betrayed my mother so badly when all she ever wanted was this," she said, gesturing to the room of sleeping children. "I will do this as repentance for my misdeeds."
Harry nodded, sighing softly. "Can I at least exorcise the Baron for you? Bloody annoying that one is. I could make it hurt."
The Grey Lady laughed, the little wrinkles near her eyes upturned. "No, the Slytherins would be devastated. Thank you for the offer. You must return to bed, little lion. It is late. I'm sure you want to avoid losing house points."
Harry thanked her again and turned to leave. "Wait," she called. "You said you knew about me and the diadem. I only told one person that story. How did you hear of it?"
"From the person you told," Harry replied. "He's doing well. He's helping me restore the rune and told me to come to you for help." She stared at him open-mouthed.
"He was so kind. When I told him about the diadem, I was afraid I had trusted the wrong person. Did he ever find it?"
"He did and he hid it here, in Hogwarts."
"Is it still here?"
"No."
"Well where is it?"
"I destroyed it," Harry said, flatly. The Grey Lady was stone-still with a shocked expression frozen on her face. Her shoulders sagged incrementally as if releasing a breath she'd been holding for centuries.
"Then I did not trust the wrong person," she said. "One way or another, it is gone. Thank you for having the strength that I lacked." Without another word, she drifted away. Harry himself made his way back to his body, relieved to have made such progress.