The Prince-Who-Lived
Chapter Fifty-seven
Harry was feeling a lot better the next day, and his head felt amazingly clear despite the vivid nightmare the night before. He must be getting used to them; whether this was a good or bad thing remained to be seen. They at least no longer left him so tired, and no longer came every night. He wasn't sure if the problem the night of the party would make them worse or not. He would survive though - he was determined to.
However, the party took its toll on several others. Aside from Desdemona estranging her daughter, the next evening James came home looking drawn and concerned. Harry glanced up as he threw himself into his chair with a heavy sigh and Lily handed him his supper, undoing the warming charm with a single motion.
"What is it today, James?"
He shot one concerned glance at Nanna but didn't push after she glared back.
"Vadim Kozumplik and his mother both went to St. Mungos, poisoned. They said it was taken care of, and no investigation need happen. They attributed it to the food last night, even though nobody else got sick. However," He leaned forward on his arms, and Harry listened intently again; he'd gotten the sinking feeling Raina wasn't doing well at all and he doubted it had to do with poison, "someone else did go home apparently drunk enough to not notice a house elf," He added sceptically, "misplaced a bottle of kerosene with his nightcap. Drank the whole thing. Dead within twenty minutes; wasn't found till morning."
"Who was it?" Harry asked, curious. He hadn't thought too many people were drunk.
James watched him as he answered, "Leopold Nott."
Harry blinked. "Oh." He offered, startled but not surprised.
"Does it?" James asked, curious. "I would like to know why, off the record. We're not too concerned; whoever offed him did us a favour, as he's got the Dark Mark, so there won't be a prosecution." He grinned weakly. "We certainly don't have the manpower to bother with someone we're worried about fighting in the first place."
Harry turned back to his meal and pushed his food around idly. He did know where his father was coming from in asking, but he wasn't sure Theodore would want to be talked about. He'd never been very close to their group. Harry finally hedged on a short and concise phrase. "Nott didn't like his father. His father was cold and merciless. Theodore learned well from him. He … I think the pressure started getting to him in the last year or so. He wasn't much like this in fourth year; I think he was still … still a little innocent then. But he's gotten a lot … colder." Harry shook his head. "Theodore may be scary, but he's made his decision and he sides with Alan. Leopold was old and probably wanted Theodore to step up and take the Mark, and his place in the circle. Theodore refuses to tie himself to someone as a servant. I think … never mind." Harry shrugged it off. "I really shouldn't continue."
"Killing his father would be an expedient way to prevent that?"
Harry didn't answer and returned to eating. James was silent for a moment, and then answered, "Thank you. For telling me what you did, Harry."
Harry just shrugged, but he smiled slightly and straightened back to proper posture.
IIII
The return to Hogwarts was the same as it was every year, and Harry was feeling surprisingly positive about the matter. It might have helped that he'd had nightmares only three nights in a row after the party and then they'd returned to the vagueness he had grown accustomed to throughout early December. He rarely needed even a half-dose of Dreamless Sleep.
Classes were once again full and thorough; homework choked them, and Quidditch practice got marginalized; several times, Harry assigned Ron to take the new team out while he finished up some homework. Potions, surprisingly, was the current headache. Green had pulled out some Golpalott's Law and was systematically torturing them with it until they all understood and could make some kind of step towards succeeding. Even looking at the essays required made his eyes cross.
The only good thing he found happening was Arithmancy steadily beginning to make more sense. Something had just clicked, and the work got easier, smoother. He nearly cried out for joy when he found himself finishing an essay and having Lucille glance through it – they often checked each others work during library study sessions – and she tossed it down and asked him why he wanted someone else to look it over – it was perfect. With that occurring towards the middle of the month, and the Golpalott segment of Potions ending, Harry nearly sighed with relief.
Apparently that just wasn't kosher, though. Something had to go wrong.
And naturally, it had to be spectacular.
IIII
Dinner.
The time of the Gods.
Then again, it was Neville's own damn fault he was taking so many classes that dinner felt so utterly relaxing. Harry was now snickering at him.
"Oh, hush. The only reason your schedule isn't as scary as mine is because you're not taking Ancient Runes."
"Yeah, but really Neville," Harry returned, grinning. "You're still the one who signed up for all of it."
Neville delicately chose several words his grandmother would have boxed his ears for, and then sat up properly, yawned, and dug in. He had to stop himself from glancing to his left. Hermione was sitting next to him again, finally, and while they didn't talk much, they were certainly on decent terms. And it was very distracting in the most pleasant of ways to be near her again. After losing that delight to fear a year ago Neville had been quietly ecstatic to find the nervousness fading, so much so he wasn't in any hurry to press for more. He just enjoyed the company in and of itself.
Several minutes later, Melanie pulled up the seat nearby and started on her own meal, followed by Nanna, who was looking forlornly at the Slytherin table. Neville snickered as Harry noticed and frowned worriedly. He knew what he was thinking: Nanna wished she were sitting with Dillan, and Harry wasn't sure he liked his little sister growing up. Not that Neville could talk. Melanie hadn't found an interest yet, although she had apparently found a quill friend he should probably ask about…
Neither Grant nor Tyler was sitting at the Gryffindor table. Both of them tended to gravitate to Ravenclaw, where Sable held 'court' with her Slytherin friends and Connor. They'd been immediately taken with the idea in the beginning of the year when Neville and Harry had joined Alan at his table. Flitwick had noticed and went to talk to them to state the rules: Sharing tables was only allowed during casual meals. On special occasions, students were required to remain within their house.
About fifteen minutes after Melanie had sat down, someone started to raise their voice across the Hall. Students quickly looked up – and a blast echoed across the Hall. Someone was thrown from their seat across the Slytherin table and Neville watched Alan surge to his feet, free from the benches. The rest of the coterie scattered outwards, on their feet, wands raised – and as far as Neville could tell, they were raised against Alan. Someone shouted, voice distorted,
"What the Hell is going on, Alan?"
"That's not Alan!" Neville recognized that cold, tight voice; it was Theodore. "Is it, my Lord?"
Alan started to laugh, and Neville's hackles tried to crawl off his neck. Alan didn't laugh like that, cold and derisive. His voice was usually warm, mocking sometimes, but playful, teasing. Not cold. Never cold.
The staff table had drawn their wands now, and when Neville glanced up, Dumbledore nodded to him and looked pointedly at the table – it had cleared. Neville got to his feet and called,
"Hermione, move." He didn't look for Harry; he was already gone, "Ron, get the students under shields of whatever can be raised. Hurry!"
Ron blinked at being given an order, but he took it and moved to holler to the other students. It wasn't fast enough: Alan, or the Dark Lord, had started throwing spells. Salvador screamed; Lucille threw something, and the scream lowered, but didn't stop. Harry had jumped up the Hufflepuff table, where the middle was clearing out to either end of the Hall, when more screams were followed by a loud, final thud.
Neville knew before he looked that they were trapped in the Hall.
Quicker than he had any right to be casting, another spell ripped through Alan's coterie and children screamed; a table exploded and Neville reflexively raised a shield that was soon peppered with splinters and at least one inkpot. He didn't look around; the screaming had become stereo – it was all around him, and he only knew that more would come if something didn't stop the massacre. Further ahead, behind the staff table – the air exploded in noise, and a ball of fire splattered against the hangings on the opposite side of the wall, dropping onto the crowd below where students frantically brought out water and shields, teacher's moving amongst them, working to clear the chaos. Neville was over Ravenclaw, and abruptly jumped back over the table as Harry snarled,
"Tom fucking Riddle, leave my friend alone!"
Alan's coterie backed off, leaving the circle open as Harry cast, the spell missing for no apparent reason - but it exploded into a large burst ofpurple light that snagged his opponent's wrist. Alan – Voldemort – shrieked and staggered backwards, glaring up at Harry. His eyes were burning red. Blood red eyes in Alan's furious face.
"You'll have to force me." Alan's mouth snarled, but it wasn't his voice, it was too twisted, distorted with a stranger's alien tone. "Remember, your dear friend has to come back here. I'm not really here."
Harry scoffed and turned to face him side on, wand raised high. "I will always defy you. I can duel without worries; Alan will heal."
"Will he?"
Neville was glad Alan didn't grin like that on a regular basis, because that was freaking scary. Neville backed up again, and then stood on the other side of the Ravenclaw table and prepared, casting one spell he knew would keep this duel self contained – Franklin's Explosion Barrier, which he'd talked Alan into teaching him during last year. It arced in front of Alan's coterie and sealed off that section of the room under a dome pressed against the far wall. Neville immediately began to sweat and staggered. The spell almost snapped out of his control before someone guided him to sit on the bench. He glanced up and nearly lost the spell again when he looked at Hermione.
"Keep focused, Neville. We need that barrier."
He could only nod wordlessly; spells were hitting the barrier regularly now, spells that were stronger than Harry or Alan had thrown at his barrier to test him before. Neville couldn't stop his curiosity and turned to look at the terrific fight going on behind his barrier; he certainly wasn't alone.
Harry's wand was blazing, and he dodged better than he thought anyone could expect, powerful leaps as his spells flew in shining arcs, mainly landing on the wall behind the Dark Lord. The range was so wide and moving so fast, he couldn't begin to guess what spells he was using. Neville hated to admit it, but Alan also looked majestic, despite the red eyes as he returned fire, spells large and powerful – he was using brute force, not finesse, at least not right now. Alan's reserves were more than up to the task, his tall, lean body skipping aside in perfect imitation of Harry – a grave misfortune as if he could only be knocked out … but what would do any good? Knocking him out wouldn't guarantee the Dark Lord was gone. How the Hell had it even happened? Alan's Occlumency was excellent. Admittedly, he'd certainly suffered a few problems before but it had usually been a lack of sleep or a serious distraction or weakness. Neville had seen him not half an hour ago … maybe forty-five minutes, now, time was stretching a little. But he hadn't been at all tired.
Two blasts hit at the same time. Neville's vision wavered and he braced himself on the table. The Dark Lord had manoeuvred Harry so his spells hit the shield as well, putting further strain on Neville. It didn't hurt, per se … but it wasn't comfortable, and it was manifesting rapidly as a pounding headache.
It was through the headache that he felt the disturbance; the headache eased momentarily. He looked up quickly in time with a sudden lapse; the spells slowed, halted, their power dwindling rapidly. Inside the shield, a small silver kneazle stalked quickly over to Alan and meowed silently, demandingly.
Neville didn't know anyone with a kneazle Patronus, but apparently Alan did.
Wait-a-minute.
Luna walked over and climbed up on the Ravenclaw table, her wand held negligently in her hand. She smiled dreamily at Neville and glanced at the barrier. Neville mimed a rune in the air, and Luna quickly sketched it and walked through. Neville watched her, wondering at her nonchalance, her complete lack of fear – and the very probable fact that the Patronus was hers. Neville stared blindly and abruptly realized that Alan was watching her come with a terrified face – and dark red eyes, eyes that were no longer glowing, but flickering fitfully. Harry was leaning against the blackened scarred wood of the Slytherin table, panting and exhausted. Neville glanced worriedly at Hermione, and then back inside.
If this didn't work, Alan would break, even if they woke him up. He wouldn't survive if Voldemort killed his best friend and lover through him as proxy.
Luna apparently didn't care. She walked straight over to him and reached up with both hands, pulling Alan's face down to hers in a gentle, tentative kiss. It held for five seconds; Neville didn't think he drew breath, until Alan suddenly slumped against her, his knees giving out as Luna lowered him gently to the floor. Neville broke the barrier immediately and struggled to get up. Hermione grabbed his arm and helped him, swearing,
"Stubborn, mule-headed brat, but I know you won't give up, so by God help me get you up."
Neville could only laugh, staggering on weak legs and stepping up and over the Ravenclaw table to clamber over the Slytherin as well and gently tap Harry's face. His brother was already unconscious.
At the far end of the Hall, the doors swung slowly open, and several Aurors swarmed in, followed by Mediwizards levitating stacked stretchers. Dumbledore called to them immediately.
"The threat is neutralized. Please aid the Mediwizards in retrieving the injured students. I will come with you shortly to explain what happened."
A few of the group dispersed after the Mediwizards; two stalked up the aisle with business on their faces, and two ran to Neville's side. Neville reached up immediately and hugged his mother, as Frank glanced around in concern.
"What happened?"
Neville swallowed and shook his head. "I think Dumbledore's got a reason to be discrete about it. Harry and Alan need to go to the hospital wing; Alan…" Neville bit his lip. "Check with Dumbledore about Alan."
Well, Neville quickly revised his opinion about saying anything. Just mentioning extra precaution with Alan just about screamed problem with Voldemort, and neither of his parents were going to miss the conclusion of possession, not with what the Order knew. At least he presumed that's what they thought. If they started just thinking his mind was corrupted, that was probably worse than possession. Fortunately only the Order was really confident about Alan's connection with Voldemort; the ministry had only a vague idea about it and thus their conclusion would be delayed and possibly non-existent.
The matter settled as Dumbledore led the two Aurors back down, conjuring stretchers for Harry and Alan, and one more. Neville blushed when Dumbledore gave him a pointed look.
"I really can walk, honest." Neville argued.
Hermione made a noise like an angry cat. "You couldn't stand without aid. You held a shield against two wizards twice your strength for almost ten minutes. You will sit down on that stretcher and not argue."
Neville stared and wondered when Hermione had gotten scary. And why on earth he was having the completely opposite reaction he probably should be. Mostly to hide the unwelcome response, Neville gave in and rolled onto the stretcher, lying on his side, one leg bent and trying to look composed and regal as though he were being escorted somewhere special – not hauled to the hospital wing. His parents were snickering, and Neville had the sneaking suspicion his father was aware of what all the show was for. Dammit, couldn't he have warned him that getting scolded could turn him on? Then again, he'd gotten turned on by just watching her … Poking her in the side and getting swatted … Getting an accidental mouthful of hair … O-kay, apparently just about anything worked for a teenager. He was just grateful that robes did a pretty good job of hiding random erections.
When they arrived at the hospital wing, the little problem had died down quite effectively. Students were already up there, and Dumbledore had a short, whispered conversation with Pomfrey before she led them to the far end and through it into a private room. She expanded it slightly and brought up a third bed before snagging Neville's stretcher and turning him, hovering him over the bed the right way around and laying him down on it before vanishing the conjured stretcher. She glared at him, and barked,
"You will stay there!"
Dumbledore had left the Aurors out in the main ward, and placed Alan's stretcher on the far bed, Harry on the bed in the middle. Pomfrey looked at them both and hissed. "Dumbledore, Severus will need to do the majority of the work on Harry. More than half of these spells are Dark Arts."
"Do what you can to keep him stable," Dumbledore nodded quickly, "and then please care for Alan. You should be able to heal him with little trouble. I will fetch Severus. And Pomfrey, you will allow Luna Lovegood to remain in here at all times until I say otherwise. I will send her up the moment I find her."
Pomfrey admirably didn't argue, and turned quickly to sift through the spells still affecting Harry. She growled and Neville abruptly could read some of the signatures she was looking for – she'd shifted just out of the way, and was using a powerful spell with a visible effect. Neville frowned.
"That one's the Dark pain curse, three steps down from the Cruciatus. The counter is a down-sweep and incantation, 'Nix algeon'" Neville recited. "The one you looked at before it was some kind of nerve deadener, possibly the Yall'n di'on Chord spell. I can't remember the counter at the moment…"
Pomfrey frowned at him, and tried to counter he'd given her. The spell struggled, but Pomfrey glared and it gave way. She frowned back at Neville again. "How do you know this?"
Neville shrugged. "I read too much and indiscriminately. And remember too much of it, too."
Pomfrey frowned, and then hesitated before turning from Harry. "If you can find a few more spells you can counter, I would feel much obliged. When Severus arrives, please tell him everything you found out. If you feel like you're going to faint, get back to your bed immediately. You are only exhausted and will probably sleep a few days through, but I can't in good conscience leave him when you aren't in dangerous territory yet and you can help."
She turned away and Neville frowned before getting out of the bed and glancing at the traces he could see on Harry. There were a lot of spells, mostly minor pain curses, nerve problems, and a few cracked bones. Harry had done a phenomenal job of avoiding anything major, even as a small number cracked through hasty shields and left token marks upon him. Others he had somehow found time and energy to counter himself, some hastily and messily, and others efficiently. Every time a spell touched him, though, it left a mark and the patchwork was frustrating to work through. Neville managed to identify and remove four curses, and identify several others he didn't know the counter to before Severus came storming in, Luna on his heels. Pomfrey glanced up, pointed Luna to a chair and Severus to Harry's bed. Neville stepped back, feeling shaky and wanting to lie down and go to sleep immediately, but he needed to tell Snape what he'd found.
When he met Severus' eyes, he found them surprisingly soft as his teacher caught his shoulder and chin in a gentle grip.
"Neville, let me in your shields and I'll find the information before I lay you into bed, please?"
The please did it. Neville dropped his solid Crystal wall and Severus gently sifted through his recent memories, apparently understanding more than Neville had, and Neville wasn't aware of when he slipped out; he didn't even feel his legs just folding beneath him as he slipped unconscious.
IIII
Alan awoke before Harry or Neville did, to find Luna lying across his body, the separation of the blankets between them. He felt infinitely peaceful and just sighed in contentment for a long moment. He didn't know how long he was half awake before Pomfrey came in, but she saw him and sighed, walking to a table set just inside the door and picking up a potion she handed to him.
"Your father and the Headmaster agree you need to drink this for now. Please, do so."
Alan blinked. "What is it?"
"It's a calming potion." Pomfrey sighed. "You're not going to like the news to come, and we need to keep you stable."
Alan took the potion, sniffed it, eyed the consistency and colour before taking a sip to test taste and then downing it. Nope. No meddling. Why just a calming potion, then, if they seemed so cautious? Alan dismissed it to wait for the answer, giving Luna a soft, affectionate glance. She hadn't stirred despite him sitting up, or if she had she hadn't decided to do anything about it. She'd likely get it all out of him later on anyways.
"So. Calm now." Alan smiled. "What's the terrible news and why am I in a private room with only Harry and Neville, with Luna on my bed? Not that I mind."
Pomfrey sighed and shook her head. "What do you remember last, Alan?"
Alan frowned and thought. "We had Charms. We went down to supper. Someone had filled my cup with grape juice rather than Pumpkin… I had pork chops, but … I got a headache …"
Alan considered his words and what happened next. It wasn't poison; that wouldn't have affected him. The grape juice had tasted stronger than he remembered it, and usually the goblets were full of pumpkin juice if they had anything in them. He'd immediately taken the cup when he sat down. He didn't do that. But his scan … he hadn't scanned. That didn't happen. He hadn't seen a spell though, nowhere. His memories weren't adding up.
"Something's wrong." Alan observed. "I don't remember anything."
"I was afraid of that." Pomfrey admitted. "Although I would have been more disturbed if you had. Please wait; I need to fetch your father and Dumbledore. Stay in your bed."
"Yes, Madam Pomfrey." Like Hell would he move with a memory gap like that.
What did he know? Something had compelled him to drink from his goblet immediately. Without waiting, without checking. He'd checked his food though, right? No? No. But he was sure the goblet was at fault, or at least started it. Pork chops. Potatoes. Gravy. Broccoli. Normal. He rarely checked broccoli anyways. Nobody liked it unless there was cheese sauce, so it wasn't usually in the area in the first place.
He was getting off track. He couldn't remember eating much, but Blaise had asked him something eventually. He didn't recall his answer, but Blaise's tone had changed. He'd gotten suspicious. Something had been wrong, and Blaise knew him well enough to know it. Thank God. Someone had caught on. If that had gone unchecked…
Alan rubbed his temples and fought with his mind. He found a spot of panic, and dove at it, determined to find out,
Spell, cast, gone; Blaise was thrown backwards, across the table, scattering the platters and terrorizing the students.
"STOP IT!" Alan shrieked at himself, no sound coming out of his mouth. "LEAVE MY FRIENDS ALONE!"
'There's no need to worry,' a cold voice slithered down his spine, 'you'll be in one piece at the end; none of these can stand against me.'
Alan felt someone's hand on his cheek and he glanced down at Luna's large blinking eyes. She was eyeing his face carefully and then pulled herself up to kiss his cheek.
"Stop dwelling on it." She offered dreamily. "It won't happen again."
"Luna…" Alan swallowed hard against his dry throat. "I…"
"Are you remembering a bit now, Alan?"
Alan glanced up quickly at Dumbledore, flicking his eyes to take in Severus behind him, and then nodded cautiously. "Yes. I … I threw Blaise down the table. I … I sort have remembered that. Remembered it being done, but I wasn't doing it. I wasn't in control. I… Voldemort possessed me?" Alan hated his voice as it turned weak and soft in the end, but dammit, he was scared shitless.
"He did, Alan." Dumbledore nodded gravely. "The Great Hall was attacked during dinner time. You have slept sixteen hours already; it is noon, the day after. The school is on hiatus for a few days, due to the large number of students injured."
I did that.
No, it was Voldemort.
He used me, though.
"I'm sorry." Alan whispered. He yelped as Luna pinched him. "Luna, what was that for!"
"Stupidity." Luna answered playfully. "Caused by the vibes of a Grinner. Pinches disrupt the tune, so you can get over it."
Alan opened his mouth, figured he wouldn't get anywhere arguing with her and turned back to Dumbledore and Severus. "What happened? How… How bad was it?"
"Not as bad as it could have been." Dumbledore assured him. "Blaise realized the problem quickly; he will survive the fall with little ill effect; it was almost beneficial he was immediately knocked out; he suffered less damage than some who stood against you."
"Harry." Alan choked on the name.
"He will recover fully in a few days." Dumbledore nodded. "Neville exhausted himself holding a shield to contain your fight."
Alan turned dead eyes to him. "They were at the Gryffindor table. They had to get across. What happened in the meantime?"
"Do you mean, did anybody die?" Dumbledore asked softly. Alan's throat closed. "We lost three students. Megan Jones, a Hufflepuff. Ackerly Stuart, a Ravenclaw, and Catrin Vance. I … believe you knew her, in passing. Several others are still critical, but hope remains strong for their full recovery."
Alan looked down at his hands and struggled with his horror and fear. He'd killed. It wasn't the first time; it wasn't even the only accident that had done so. But … he shouldn't have collapsed. His Occlumency… "Why didn't my Occlumency work?"
"We found traces of a foreign potion in your system." Severus responded. "I haven't finished analyzing it yet, but it seems to have dissolved your shields completely and quickly. I… Normally you would have noticed." Severus finished oddly, "however, I expect you were distracted. Do you believe so?"
"I didn't see any spells." Alan answered dully. "But … but when I sat down, I … I immediately grabbed my goblet and it was already full of grape juice. I … don't know why it didn't seem odd. I didn't scan anything as I ate. And … and slowly I can't remember. I don't remember eating much. I can vaguely remember Blaise asking me something, but I don't remember responding. He returned it ... and he was immediately suspicious. I could hear that in his voice. And the next thing I can recall is Blaise being blasted away and screaming for him, for Voldemort, to leave my friends alone. It was only in my mind though; I couldn't speak. And he just told me … something. I can't remember. I can't remember anything." He looked at Dumbledore and his father pleadingly. He didn't know where his trembling started or ended.
"It's not unprecedented." Dumbledore answered. "You fought yourself dead tired, both by Voldemort's exploitation of your magical reserves and in your own mental battle. It is a natural response to such an exhaustive encounter for your memories to have been forgotten. They may have never even formed in the first place."
"What happened? What stopped him?" Alan asked dully. "Did Harry duel me into submission?"
"Harry never duelled you, Alan." Dumbledore snapped. "You were not present during that fight." Alan glanced up to argue and Dumbledore cut him off. "Do not blame yourself for the actions of your enemy, no matter how he may use you. You had no part in his actions, and no fault. I will double-check the Great Hall, but have you ever gazed upon the floor beneath the tables with your sight?"
Alan blinked. "I can't see down there. How would I have?"
"Do you remember the third task of the Triwizard Tournament at all, Alan?" Dumbledore scolded.
Alan growled, "Yes, I think I'll remember that the rest of my life."
"The maze, Alan, do you remember the maze and the traps that would have been so utterly daunting and exhausting to the other Champions, ones you got a free ride through on your own skill?"
Alan paused. "The spell squares on the ground?" He asked cautiously.
"If the level of talent displayed by the one who has threatened your life through most of the first term is any guess, a spell plate such as that would be easily placed under your usual seat at the Slytherin table."
Alan swallowed. Okay. Plan B: Start alternating sitting arrangements. He should have noticed he was getting into a habit. "Alright." Alan caved. "I'm sorry –for being foolish about blaming myself." Alan quickly amended as Luna moved to pinch him again. "Good grief girl."
Luna sniffled. "Have some kindness for the girl who saved your life."
"You saved me?" Alan asked incredulously. "How?"
Dumbledore chuckled softly. "I do believe that is something I am also curious about. All I saw was Ms. Lovegood casting her Patronus and sending it through the barrier, and then walking after. I'm sorry to say the distortion of the shield prevented a good view, but I do believe she kissed you. And while I understand the principles behind it, I do not believe I expected such a reaction – foolish of me, indeed, but after our last conversation it was a fear of mine."
"Er." Alan wasn't sure how to answer. "Luna, why would your hare get a response like that?"
Luna beamed at him, and Dumbledore quietly said, "It wasn't a hare-" before Luna quickly, and silently (Alan felt a rush of misplaced pride she had mastered the skill) cast her patronus. Alan gaped as it formed, and felt himself abruptly blush crimson as he realized exactly what memory – or memories – she was using.
"Luna!" He hissed.
"What?" She asked innocently. Dumbledore and Severus looked very interested. "I think this one is much more impressive than my last, don't you?"
Alan put his head in his hands and groaned. Talk about not having a good day.
"Luna, may I ask why your Patronus changed?" Dumbledore inquired. He sounded far too innocent.
"Well, Dumbledore, when a boy and girl love each other –"
Alan remembered that start from his disastrous Talk – and when he was nine and first asking precocious questions. He quickly leaned down and kissed Luna, and, well, when she responded quite avidly, he gently cradled her head – and forgot his father and Headmaster were watching until one of them coughed. He pulled back as though stung and felt his head swim from the resultant blood rush from one part of his body straight up to his face.
Luna dreamily finished, "Something like that, yes."
Alan wished they'd stop laughing at him like that. Really. It wasn't that funny.
"Why do you think Luna's actions worked?" Alan asked quickly.
Dumbledore stopped chuckling to give Alan a kind smile. "Do you remember our discussion when you brought me the diadem?"
"Which part?" This wasn't improving the topic any. It was walking right back over it again. He was still blushing.
"You were sceptical indeed about the power of love." Dumbledore pointed out. "Even when I told you Voldemort had been most discomforted upon experiences a touch of your mind when you were feeling most strongly."
"You sure he wasn't just annoyed at the involuntary voyeurism?" Alan hedged, although Luna wasn't distracting him and he couldn't make up any excuse for his current discomfort.
Dumbledore's mouth twitched. "The same report came through telling of his discomfort on Samhain, identical to that over the summer. And whether you remember it or not, if your reaction to Ms. Lovegood's Patronus now was similar to what it was then, you remembered most clearly – and immediately – why that change would happen, did you not?"
Like Hell he did. Alan could only nod; thinking of a few points Luna would probably find highlights, ones he could certainly agree upon.
"Such memories would be something Voldemort could neither understand nor bear." Dumbledore pointed out. "And your feelings for Luna are strong."
"I care for Harry too." Alan pointed out quietly.
"Is it anywhere near as powerful?" Dumbledore asked. "And, additionally, is there not a measure of rivalry between you two? Two young men of similar strength and skill… Do not deny that the chance to test yourself against him measures into your friendship. Voldemort can feed on that feeling to the exclusion of the others."
Alan nodded solemnly, sighing and glancing down at Luna, running his fingers through her hair. "I see what you mean." His lips quirked. "Will I need to have Luna stick by me for the rest of school?"
"I do not believe that level of contact is quite necessary. Voldemort has never managed to breach your Occlumency without some form of aid whether it is exhaustion or a potion. Perhaps he will feel hesitant to contact you so again, feeling how strongly you can love. We cannot be sure, but keep Luna close to your heart and I do not imagine there will be much challenge."
Alan nodded shortly, and asked, "Is there a book I can get to read, then, while I'm stuck here?"
"Your textbooks have been brought, and are sitting on the chair nearby, however I doubt many children find them engaging. I will mention it to Pomfrey and Pince to see if several tomes might be brought down. We have several children who will probably grow exceedingly tired of sitting in a bed all day."
Dumbledore stood and left but Severus remained behind, nodding shortly to Alan and checking on Harry. Alan bit his lip in self-recrimination and yelped when Luna pinched him again.
Severus looked over his shoulder irritably. "What do you keep yelping for, Alan?"
"Luna pinched me!"
"You were getting gloomy again. I had to get those Grinners off you."
"I don't need to be pinched!"
"Enough!" Severus growled. "Luna, I appreciate your attempts but can we have silence for several minutes? I have some delicate work I need to do. You can argue once I am finished."
Alan's face fell and Luna reached up and grabbed his ears – not hard enough to hurt but turning his head to face her fully before she kissed him lightly and pulled back, glaring. Luna had a fairly mean glare, and Alan pulled away as soon as he could and stared at the floor. Despite her efforts, he couldn't help but feel upset. This never would have happened if it hadn't been for him. It wouldn't have mattered if he'd done anything else. He'd been there, and people had been hurt.
Harry was hurt, and still hurting. Alan had already recovered; what had he done to him?
Severus sighed a few minutes later and sat down heavily on a stool. Luna, glaring at Alan like he'd personally wronged her, jumped off his bed and fetched a drink for Severus, taking the Headmaster's vacant seat. Severus glanced between them and frowned.
"What are you being Gryffindor about now, Alan?"
"It wouldn't have happened if I hadn't been there."
"No, it wouldn't have." Severus agreed. Alan glanced at him, shocked. "It would have happened somewhere else. Somewhere without Neville and Harry to stop you. Somewhere without Luna to save you from yourself. Very likely more people would have died than just three, and while less may have been hurt, you would have quite possibly hurt yourself. What do you think would have happened had you not been in a room with the only students in school who come anywhere near your power, or without the presence of the Headmaster and the teachers?"
"Harry's still hurt." Alan feebly returned.
"The Dark Arts do that, and I am not as skilled a healer as Pomfrey. I believe she looked over you two and answered that while Harry was likely more critical, for the sheer volume and scope, you were probably in nearly the same condition. This was Harry casting; the Dark Lord likely channelled his skill and knowledge through your reserves of power, and Harry met him head on."
Alan ground his teeth together. "And I can barely keep myself alive. Why isn't he the boy of prophecy? I keep screwing up."
"You're human, Alan." Severus pointed out dryly. "We will always suffer for that fact alone. We make mistakes; things go wrong; we don't react as well as we could. Alan, you are learning. Do not hate yourself for making a mistake on something you could not anticipate. Harry will recover within the next few days. I expect all three of you will be well before school restarts next week."
Severus left shortly after that, and Luna frowned at Alan before crawling back onto his bed, pulling a book out of her own bag and leaning against him as though he were a chair without a word. Alan couldn't really respond, and he sat back and let her.
Before very long had passed, he wrapped his arms around her and leaned his forehead to her crown.
"Luna, why does this make me feel so miserable?"
"Because you're dwelling on the bad side of things." She answered flatly. "Grow up."
Alan grimaced and didn't ask again. She clearly wasn't going to be any help.
He was grateful that she at least didn't pull away and leave him alone. He didn't want to face the rest of the school with the lives of three students hanging over him, proxy or not.
IIII
He was having a nightmare. Antonin Dolohov sat eagerly on his chest, weighing him down, constricting his lungs, as lines of fire dripped from his eyes and crushed against his nose. He couldn't breathe –
Alan woke and choked; the dream hadn't left with consciousness, and something was pressed tightly against his face. He raised his hands and found them trapped beneath someone's knees, bone pressed painfully down; he stopped trying for fear of snapping his own wrists. He couldn't breathe with the force against his face, and he – he was trapped most effectively in the bed. Alan cursed Pomfrey for doing her hospital corners too damn well, as the blanket, sat on as it was, stopped him from trying his legs.
He couldn't do anything.
Alan found himself calming down surprisingly quickly; someone had told him you used more oxygen when you were fighting, and maybe, maybe his assailant would be fooled by his quiescence. It was a struggle against his own mind, against his burning lungs, his panic at being helpless. He felt like he was going to black out any moment, back to sleep, where he couldn't fight at all… He whimpered against the pillow, or what he supposed was a pillow and wished that anything would interfere.
He didn't want to die.
He sure as Hell didn't want to be smothered in his bed. Why the Hell was he even bothering with a pillow?
Someone's heavy breathing drifted down to his ears, through the strain on his mind, and into his head. Whoever was there was working, strained … he was blacking out again, and he couldn't … stop … it…
IIII
How can breathing be so loud?
Rolling over and pulling his pillow over his head, Harry tried to ignore the noise and nearly leapt out of his socks when somebody gave a choked gasp. Instinct, honed by a recent nightmare and years with pranksters, had him hauling out of his bed and to the floor when a spell lit the room and fizzled against the far wall. The heavy breathing became strained, and Harry glanced up, cursing under his breath as he couldn't see anything.
Hating the necessity of glasses, Harry tried to locate a bedside table, but the whole bloody room was black as pitch. His hand hit the table, skittered past a phial, knocking it to the floor where it shattered loudly, prompting another spell in his direction. Harry dropped, swearing as his hands hit glass, cut and bleeding. Couldn't she have put an unbreakable phial there, for Merlin's sake?
Okay, he wasn't going to find his glasses. Fine. The pitch black wouldn't matter anyways and he knew where the idiot was.
Harry softly tried to dust his hands free of glass and crept under his bed, moving carefully across the floor to the other side of the room. He'd barely come out from under the bed when he was hit with a spell.
His chest tightened painfully and he moaned, collapsing to the ground and shuddering, his muscles spasming painfully, fitfully, agonizing. He couldn't breathe, and his mind ran away with him, returning to the pain and agony of torture, of being flat on his chest as someone leaned heavily on him as another broke his legs. He wished desperately for it to stop, and suddenly the room filled with light, searing his eyes and prompting him to shriek and duck back under the bed where it was marginally safer. Someone swore; a familiar voice. A second answered, and Harry felt something in his gut tighten as he recognized Draco Malfoy's voice in answer to Neville's. Something shuddered, and then the spell lifted fully, freeing his muscles to relax and blink with concern at Neville, crouched opposite him.
"Harry, what the Hell happened?"
"I … I don't know. I couldn't see anything. Is Alan all right? He was over there when I woke up."
Neville swore and darted around the bed, running to Alan's side. He swore again, and then hit the door with a spell that made a sound like a gong. Harry glanced that direction moments before the door was slammed open and the lights flared again. Harry curled under his bed and put his hands over his eyes, swearing miserably to himself, listening intently to the frantic voices, but the remnants of the curse left him unable to concentrate; he couldn't understand what they were going on about, and, finally, he slipped unconscious.
IIII
Neville hauled Harry out from beneath his bed and laid him on top, feeling a little woozy but decent. His feet were sore as Hell; he'd stepped on the shattered phial, but stubbornly ignored it long enough to vanish the glass from Harry's hands, clean the blood he'd transferred to his face, and heal his wounds. He checked his condition, but the curse Draco had used was trickling away quickly – it wasn't a lasting one. With that clear, Neville hopped up and gave his feet the treatment he'd given Harry's hands – all the while ignoring the two Healers working with Alan.
Neville shuddered. Alan's lips had been blue when he'd glanced over, and he had been breathing lightly, his pulse thready. When he'd woken up, Draco had still been kneeling on Alan's bed, but he'd leapt off in the bright light, throwing spells. Neville wasn't sure what he'd thrown back at the moment, but he was too groggy to quite be worried yet. When another person hollered out into the hall, Neville stood up and moved around Harry's bed to vanish the glass and clean the blood off the floor. He'd worry about Draco when Alan was a little more stable.
"-The Hell, someone get this ferret out of here! We can't have kids' pets passing out in the Hospital wing."
Neville felt his jaw drop and spun around. Reflexively, he breathlessly lied, "Sorry, I think that's mine. I'll hold him for you." Please say he hadn't done that. Please say that wasn't what he thought. Please let him be wrong.
The Mediwizard thrust the albino ferret into his hands and told him to sit down and asked after Harry in the same breath. Neville mechanically reported what he'd healed and Harry was dismissed after a cursory check. Neville turned his attention to the unconscious white ferret.
Oh Hell. Please let him be wrong.
Oh Hell.
This wasn't the expected result of accidentally using the Animagus spell of non-specific human transfiguration. He'd been thinking something more along the lines of a twisted hairless fleshy red thing from the realms of chaos, but Draco had ended up that cute white ferret Moody had turned him into two years ago. Neville felt himself twitch into a smirk. Oh dear. Did this mean Draco now had an Animagus form? He'd probably have to ask McGonagall. This really wasn't what he'd expected.
Of course, he deserved it. What the Hell was Draco doing in the Hospital Wing anyways, going after Alan aga-
Oh, of course. Neville quickly spoke up, "Do any of you know where Pomfrey or Severus is?"
One of the men glowered. "Pomfrey is fetching several potions right now, and I don't know where Professor Snape would be holed up. What do you need them for?"
"I was only in here for exhaustion. May I leave? I need to carry a message to someone."
The man scowled and waved him off. "Whatever, do what you need to and don't get in our way."
Neville glowered after him, but quickly grabbed his wand and one of the housecoats nearby, alongside the warm slippers and jogged out of the isolation room and through the dark main Wing. He was startled at the number of students still in the area. Half the beds were occupied still. He wasn't sure how many days it had been, at least one he could guess, but that must have been one Hell of a mess to still have children injured with at least five Mediwizards on hand. Perhaps they were exhausted? He thought he saw Lucille, Blaise, and Salvador, but didn't have time to wait around. He needed McGonagall or Dumbledore or … anyone, really, who was in the Order.
Neville decided to take a chance and ran to McGonagall's office, wondering if she'd be there, even though he couldn't fathom what time it was. He knocked on the door several times, but got no answer, leading him to jog up the stairs – it was freezing, and he wanted this over with. Remembering what Harry had said, he aimed for the fifth floor, Dumbledore's office, and paused upon reaching the gargoyle.
"Ah, Merlin, Mary and Morgan." Neville groused. "I haven't got a clue what the password could be and for all I know it's one in the morning. But I really need to talk … Hey, stony. You awake enough to carry a message that I think I found who's been trying to off Alan?" Neville glared at the gargoyle. It glared stubbornly back. Neville doubted he'd be winning any staring contests against it.
Abruptly the stone gargoyle leapt aside, revealing a spiral stone staircase behind it, revolving upstairs. Neville obediently stepped on and went up to the door, curious and amused. When he reached the door, he gently reached for the knocker, but the door swung open before then, to Dumbledore's quiet voice, "Come in, child."
Neville stepped inside and frowned around the room. Dumbledore glanced up, looking quite surprised. "Neville. I hadn't expected you to be awake yet, much less out of Pomfrey's clutches."
"Pomfrey stepped out of the Hospital wing. There was an altercation in the room where Harry, Alan, and I were asleep. Someone got in, and I'm not sure what was going on. I didn't wake until after Harry had – the shattering phial woke me up. Everything's calm now; I got, er …" Neville flushed, and then held out the ferret. "I'm pretty sure this might be Draco Malfoy. He was the one who got in."
Dumbledore's eyebrows shot up rather interestingly.
"That's a rather spectacular accomplishment." He offered.
Neville's blush deepened. "I wasn't thinking clearly, sir, and I … I suspect I used the Animagus spell on him and it attached itself to the previous form he'd been introduced to. So … I'm not really sure what this may have done. I just know he's unconscious, and he – he tried to suffocate Alan."
"Is Alan all right?" Dumbledore made to rise, and Neville just shrugged helplessly.
"I don't know. His lips were blue when I checked on him, so I made the door ring and it brought all the Mediwizards in. I left them to deal with it – I don't know how to work with that, and healed Harry's hands and my feet from the glass and the spell Draco used against Harry. I think it's as well in hand as possible."
Dumbledore nodded slowly, and conjured a cage with a sweep of his wand. "Please keep an eye on this cage for the time being. Draco will not be able to change back if he has the option while he is inside it. It would probably be best to keep this … under wraps until we are more certain. I will have Severus check if Draco might not be somewhere else in case you missed." He looked less than pleased, but Neville accepted the cage without comment, holding the handle carefully as he eyed the litter box, and two dishes – the food one was currently empty.
"I presume you'll get food to me sometime?"
"Just ask the house elves for ferret food and they will come up with something." Dumbledore nodded. "Now, come with me back to the Hospital wing. This needs urgent attention."
Neville followed along in his wake, stepping quickly and trying not to jostle the cage too much. However, ferret-Draco appeared completely out of it and Neville wondered if he was possibly dead or at least brain-dead.
Not that he suspected that was an accomplishment for Draco. Doesn't take much to kill five brain cells.
Dumbledore's presence in the Hospital wing got a flood of information Neville refused to listen it after the first few phrases of 'cyanotic' 'smothered' and 'asphyxiation'. He didn't want to understand the rest until someone told him Alan would survive. Neville went around Harry's bed and found Luna sitting on his own, her hands folded in her lap, three cards in her hands. When Neville approached she shuffled the cards together and continued shuffling even after he awkwardly sat down beside her.
"Is everything alright?" Neville ventured, putting Draco-the-ferret under the head of his bed.
"Yes and No. Maybe so." Luna hummed. Her tone was sad. "He … should be fine."
Neville hugged her around the shoulders and sighed. "He will be fine, Luna." He knew his words wouldn't mean much, but when she sighed slightly and smiled faintly at him, he knew they'd meant enough.
A/N: Wheee! On time, together, and so forth! Good stuff, action, death, destruction... and Draco the ferret. Could it get any better?
What, you mean you're worried about Alan? Why would you be worried about Alan? *innocent look* Please Read and Review? And ignore the sugar high.
Fire & Napalm
(P.S. I'm starting to plot the rewrite, fool that I am. Fancy that.)