Disclaimer: Don't own it, you know that.
A/N: Sorry, sorry, sorry sorry, I've been unable to get an internet connection for weeks, since I actually have to pay for it now, and it's quite a bit a month. But I did it finally, as you may have noticed from my previous update, but I was so eager to get it posted that I didn't have much time to put an explanation of my sudden dropping off the face of the planet.
This semester is killer, and I've already dropped a class in order to have enough time for my other classes. They're all really tough, and I have long, long labs every week that are taking up a huge amount of time.
But I said I was going to finish this, even if it drove me nuts, so here I am, back at work. Mostly, I'm doing it because I really want to get it done, and I really want to post some future chapters that I've already written and really like. So read, enjoy, and please don't yell at me too much for being horribly late!
Also, my grammar and spelling may not be perfect. I've only read through this twice, since I was so eager to post it. Miss Laine
00000000000 Chapter 29: Betrayal and Blame 000000000000
Harry awoke suddenly to the agonizing pain of what felt like an axe being slammed straight through his skull, right between his eyes. He didn't realize he'd screamed aloud until the curtains around his bed were jerked back and a pale, freckled face looked down at him.
"Harry?" Ron asked, sounding scared. Harry didn't register the query; he was much too busy trying to stop the pain and get the agony to abate. He clenched his fists into the sheets on either side of his body, teeth grinding together harshly as the pain consumed him, and he could vaguely hear his harsh breaths as he tried to keep from passing out.
"I'm going to get McGonagall," he heard somewhere over his head—had Ron spoken; he didn't know—and then suddenly he was sucked back into the hell inside his head as he tried to force the pain—pain he now recognized as being Voldemort-sent—out of his head.
"Get. Out," he growled aloud, squeezing his eyes tightly shut and focusing as best he could on Occluding his mind. His skills in Occlumency had not been tested for many months now, and he was finding it hard to clear his mind while such pain was driving through it.
"Mr. Potter!" he heard suddenly.
The sharp voice of his head of house cut through his slow attempts to Occlude his mind, and his eyes opened abruptly, though the pain did not lessen in the slightest. Tears were leaking down his face now; he could feel the wetness on his cheeks only slightly.
"Volde—" he ground out, gasping for air even as he tried to explain while still keeping his weak hold on his own mind.
A moment later another entered the room, and Harry's head seemed to split completely in half. He knew he screamed this time, arching back onto the bed in pure agony as something horrible and repulsive erupted inside of his body, its long claws digging their way through his mind with molten rage.
"Traitor," he heard himself say, his jaw working on its own, or, rather, under the control of Voldemort.
Get out! Get out! Get out! He shouted inside his mind as loud as he could, but Voldemort just laughed silently.
Is that all my little spy could teach you? Voldemort hissed softly to him. His stupidity and his trust in you have doomed him, boy.
GET OUT OF MY HEAD!
I rather like it here, Tom said to him, tones jovial.
"You have been betrayed, my snake. You lied to me, and you will pay!" Harry could do nothing to stop the words coming out of his mouth, and he could not even express his fear and guilt as Voldemort glared through his eyes at the last person to come into the room.
Professor Snape. Carrying several bottles of potions, that Harry realized were certainly for him, to help him.
"Your death will be slow and painful compared to even what I will do to the brat."
And now Tom knew, Harry realized. He had been unable to keep his thoughts his own, and now Voldemort knew the truth. He didn't even register Tom using his body…his thoughts were consumed with trying to stop Voldemort from rummaging through every corner of his mind.
Ha, ha ha, Tom laughed loudly inside his head. I know much more than just about my little traitor, he hissed. My nephew…of sorts…I know many things now…Neither can live while the other survives…hmmm…
"I will make you kill him," Tom said. "I will make you listen to him beg for death."
Harry was suddenly reminding of that night in the Department of Mysteries, and although he was vaguely aware of someone shaking him his thoughts had darted back to months ago as he screamed for someone to save his godfather, to pull him back from death.
This time, though, Voldemort did not scream or leave him as the memories of love flooded him. Tom was holding on tightly, refusing to surrender against the onslaught of emotion.
"The boy cannot fight me," he heard Tom say aloud. "I will force you to kill him!"
Harry hoped they would kill him. Anything to stop this pain and the fear and shame he felt. He just wanted to be free so badly…
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He woke to someone shaking him hard by the shoulders, and he groaned and shook his head, trying to get them to stop. The pounding in his head throbbed with every shake of his body, and finally he had to open his eyes and thrash his arms in order to stop the attack.
"Get away!" he snarled, then suddenly stopped, everything that had happened rushing back with sudden clarity. "Oh Merlin," he breathed. "Oh damn."
"Damn is right," he heard someone…Snape…spit from the vicinity somewhere on his left.
"I…I forgot to take the potion," Harry realized slowly, fear slicing through his heart. "He knows…"
"The burning of the Mark would suggest so," Snape snarled. "You've betrayed us all, Potter."
"I…" He didn't know what to say. Snape was right. He'd messed up big time, and now everyone was going to have to pay for it. "I fell asleep before I even realized…"
He cleared his throat, since it felt very irritated and sore, then realized that it was that way because he had screamed. Many times.
"How are you feeling?" a softer voice asked, and he glanced over in surprise. Remus was standing near the wall to his right, leaning on the bedpost with his arms folded on his chest.
"Uh…I'm fine," Harry said, knowing that they probably knew he was lying. Now that he was properly awake, he could feel the burning pain in his muscles and the stiffness that was taking over his back. "Stiff," he grudgingly admitted.
"The Dark Lord knows all now," Snape said quietly. "My usefulness is over."
"Indeed," Dumbledore said softly, coming into the dormitory. "It was only a matter of time, Severus."
"It would have been a much later time had not—" Snape started to say, voice raised with anger, but Dumbledore cut him off.
"That is of no importance now," the old wizard said calmly. "What is done is done, and we will move on from there."
"To where?" Snape demanded. "There are no more secrets to be kept! He had ripped everything out of the boy's weak mind!"
"He doesn't know everything," Harry felt obliged to point out, though he kept his voice quiet and trained his angry glare on his knees.
"Really?" Snape demanded in a hissing, condescending voice. "What is left—he doesn't know your transfiguration grades? He doesn't know your Uncle's name? Please, enlighten us!"
"He doesn't know I've been dreaming about that fortress," Harry said softly. "He's been dreaming of it too."
Snape didn't say anything at first, and Harry looked up to see the calculating look in those black eyes. Dumbledore as well looked silenced, as if mulling over something intensely important.
"How you know he's been dreaming of it?" Remus asked, voice level.
Harry hesitated, trying to think of how to say it. "Come on! We haven't got all day!" Snape shouted.
Harry glared at the man, letting all of his anger go into that single moment where their eyes met before he looked away, trying to get his emotions under control. He'd almost been possessed this summer because of his anger—he didn't want that to happen again. "I could see some of his thoughts," Harry admitted. "It's hard to remember them at the time…but it's on his mind. He keeps dreaming about the same thing that I am. Except he's at the top of the hill…" The last part was almost a thought to himself, as he imagined the dream in his mind—and the figures on the hill that he was always trying to reach.
"I would ask that you tell no one of this," Dumbledore requested. "If word were to get out that you were possessed by Voldemort inside of Hogwarts…"
Harry nodded. "Yeah, I know," he said. Guilt rushed in on him as he realized how much of a blow this could be to the Order, and for once he was grateful that he didn't know that much about what went on in the Order. "I'm sorry."
"We should have anticipated something of this nature, given the boy's inability to follow a simple direction," Snape snarled. Harry felt the anger bubbling up again. He hadn't asked for the scar he bore. He didn't demand that Tom come after him. He didn't want any of it!
But you're stuck with it, a voice inside of him said softly. You didn't have a choice, true, but it's your choice to run away or stay and fight.
Harry looked up. "I can't change my mistake," he said aloud. "I said I was sorry, and I am. He was able to fight back much more this time than ever before, and I don't even know what I did to get him out of my head."
"Perhaps he grew bored with what passes for thoughts in your head," Snape said snidely. A look from Dumbledore silenced any further comment the man had to make, and Harry watched emotionlessly as Snape swept from the room, muttering angrily under his breath.
"Poppy will be by soon to administer potions," Dumbledore said, a little more life in his voice. "You were given some while unconscious, but it seems to have not been enough."
"What happened to my friends?" Harry asked, looking around at the empty beds.
"They were asked to remove themselves to the common room until this evening," Dumbledore explained. "I do not think anyone but Mr. Weasley knew just what was happening to you."
Harry nodded. "I'm sorry," he said again.
"I do not think you would willingly go through that," Dumbledore said, finally smiling as he gazed at Harry over the tops of his spectacles. "Even I make mistakes," the man pointed out, and Harry remembered that past year, when he had stood in Dumbledore's office, shaking with rage and guilt.
…I acted exactly as Voldemort expects we fools who love to act…
"I don't need Madame Pomfrey," he said aloud, changing the subject as best he could.
"You do," Remus countered. Harry sighed, lying back.
"I'm fine, really, I am," he assured him. Dumbledore slipped out at this moment, leaving Harry to face the worried werewolf alone.
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Hermione and Ron weren't around when Harry finally managed to escape the dormitory and get down to the common room. Pomfrey had forced him to drink several pain-relieving potions, and they had made him sleepy enough to drift off for several hours. When he had awoken, he had been alone. Only a note from Remus told him that the werewolf had been unable to stay—Order business. Other than that, his dorm had been empty.
In fact, he realized suddenly, the common room was completely empty. It was rare that no one was lounging about or doing homework, and he took the chance to pick exactly what sofa he wanted to relax on while he waited for a bit more of his strength to come back to him.
He didn't realize he'd fallen asleep again until he was woken by someone patting his face. His eyes snapped open as he rolled to the right, pulling his wand from his pocket.
"Relax!" he heard. Hermione kneeled beside him, and he looked up at her in surprise.
"Hermione?" he asked. She smiled.
"Are you all right?" she asked. Harry forced himself up to his feet as gracefully as he could, putting his wand away and rubbing his eyes to clear them.
"Yeah, just startled," he admitted. "I didn't realize I'd fallen asleep."
"Ron's worried about you," she told him. "So am I."
"I'm all right," he promise. "Pomfrey gave me something."
"Ron said you were screaming," Hermione said softly. Harry shrugged, feeling uncomfortable.
"Where is Ron?" he asked. Hermione sighed.
"Outside, flying," she told him. "He's been out for hours. I think he's feeling…guilty or something."
"What? Why?" Harry wondered. Hermione sighed again, biting at her bottom lip.
"He talks a lot about how he wishes he could do something to help," Hermione admitted. "I think he feels like he's not helping you at all."
"That's not true," Harry said with a frown, still somewhat confused. "You two are the most important things to me."
Hermione smiled, but Harry could see tears in her eyes. "You're the most important thing to us, too, Harry," she said. "We want to be able to help. A lot more than we are now."
"I'm not even doing anything," Harry pointed out. "Except letting Voldemort rummage through my head," he added bitterly. Hermione stared at him with wide eyes.
"He…he…"
"He knows about the prophecy, and about me being related to him, and about Snape being a spy," Harry told her. "Dumbledore didn't seem too fazed, but Snape was shouting. And he was right."
"Oh, Harry," she said softly.
"Don't tell me I should have tried harder," he snapped suddenly, realizing her scolding tone of voice. "It's a little hard to concentrate when your head's splitting in half!"
"I wasn't going to," she told him, sounding hurt. "I just was going to say not to heap more guilt on yourself!"
Harry blinked. "What?"
"I can see it in your eyes, Harry," she told him. "You're feeling guilty for this too."
"I did fail to keep Tom out of my head," he pointed out. "I did manage to forget to take my potion," he added. "It was a stupid, careless mistake that I would have made years ago!"
"It's too late to change it," Hermione said softly. "Come on, let's go out to the Quidditch pitch."
Harry felt off balance from the sudden shift in conversation. "Er…sure," he said. Hermione smiled, and he followed her out to where Ron was busy flying laps around the goal posts.
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The high point of Harry's week came during the animagi training DA meeting. Hermione had managed a little more fur on her arm, and Ginny had finally managed to make her skin turn several shades darker, though whatever she was going to be was still a mystery. Ron's yellowish tinge had become more definite during this second meeting, and Harry and the others were still trying to decide if there was a sort of darkened pattern on Ron's arm.
Neville had yet to accomplish anything, though he was working hard and not losing hope. Harry wasn't sure what the other teen was doing wrong, and didn't have enough experience himself to figure out a solution.
Harry had tried the spell several times, concentrating hard only to see the hooked claws and reddish skin fade appear then fade over and over again. Finally, he sighed and lay back on the couch he was sitting on, wand held loosely in his hand.
"I don't know what else we're suppose to do," he said aloud. "Remus said it happens differently for some people, after they start to get the spell working. 'Animagus Veritas' doesn't seem to be—"
"HARRY!" he heard Hermione almost shriek, and he sat up in alarm.
"What? What!" he demanded, looking around for danger.
"Your…hand!" she said, pointing. He looked down, still confused until he saw that his left arm was no longer really an arm. His skin had turned to red, finely-scaled hide, and his fingers had melded into three thick digits tipped with long, curved claws.
"Whoa!" he said, jumping when he moved the very foreign limb. The others came closer, while Hermione grabbed a book off the shelves and opened it.
"Hold it up, Harry," she directed. "I'm going to try to figure out what it is."
Harry nodded, holding up the awkward appendage for his friend to see. She was leafing through the thick tome rapidly, brow furrowed as she went through more and more pages. "I don't get it," she mused aloud. "This doesn't make any sense!"
"What?" he asked, feeling a little panicked. The arm wasn't changing back—in fact, it felt like the transformation was crawling up his arm, towards his shoulder. "What am I?" he asked her.
Hermione looked up, a frown on her face. "An animagus can't be a magical animal," she said. "It just…it doesn't happen," she told him. "But…that looks like the arm of a Chinese Fireball," she diagnosed. "A dragon." Harry blinked.
"Uh," Ron said. "Well, I guess they're wrong," he said.
"This is very, very unusual," Hermione said. "Do you think it has anything to do with Voldemort?" she asked. Harry saw Ginny start slightly, as did Ron, but he ignored it.
"I don't know," he said. "I don't know if Voldemort's an animagus."
"You should ask Dumbledore," she told him. Harry shook his head, focusing on changing the limb back to his own hand.
"He'd want to know why I'm asking, and I'm not sure he'd approve of all this," he said.
Hermione looked ready to argue, but didn't say anything more. "Can you change it back?" Ron asked him.
"I'm trying," Harry said. "Finite Incantatem," he finally said aloud.
There was a 'pop,' and suddenly he was once again looking at his own arm again. He smiled. "I guess I figured out how it works for me," he said aloud.
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Classes that week were very tense for Harry, who had the feeling that Murkwater knew something of what had happened that weekend. The man kept glancing at him oddly while they were working on curses and counter curses, and did not speak to him once. This was such a change from how he usually treated Harry that it put him even more on edge. He couldn't confront the professor about it directly, but he found himself watching Murkwater all through class, even when he should have been keeping his eyes on the spells he was casting.
And, of course, Potions was hell. Snape never said anything aloud to him, but Harry could almost feel the sour man's glares drilling burning holes through his back. Snape had the right to be somewhat angry, Harry had to admit to himself, but this was ridiculous. Snape didn't have to spy any more. He wasn't going to get uncovered at some Death Eater meeting and be tortured to death.
Even if he wasn't any use to the Order any more, Harry thought that Snape had gotten off pretty well.
That is, until he saw the man clutching at his left forearm during class on Thursday. The mark had to be burning constantly, Harry realized. He'd felt his scar prickle numerous times throughout the week, but it probably was nothing compared to the pain Voldemort could inflict through the Dark Mark.
He didn't say a word to Snape, though, and Snape purposely failed his potion at the end of class, commenting that it was 'too orange.' Harry knew it was only slightly brighter than Hermione's perfectly-done potion, but he didn't say a word. He wouldn't have cared if Snape had dumped his potion out or banished it away. It just didn't matter.
His dreams were getting worse again, he was tired all of the time, and he was constantly worrying that he would again be attacked by Voldemort while he slept, though he was careful to take a little extra of the vision-blocking potion every night. Dumbledore had been unable to offer up any more clues on the dreams he was having, and his own research in the library had not unearthed anything either.
It felt like he was getting nowhere at all. He wasn't being kept in the dark so much anymore. It was more like he couldn't keep control of his life. Little made sense, and even his unusual animagus form made him feel off balance, as if nothing at all made sense any more.
Ron and Hermione were as supportive as humanly possible—to the point where they were practically stifling him, though he didn't have the heart to shout at them to back off. Hermione's words had made him think—it had to be difficult for them, he realized, to be unable to do anything at all.
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Friday afternoon, he was headed to lunch with Ron and Hermione when Julie showed up, smiling and appearing almost instantly at his side. "Hey, Harry," she said, smiling. "I was wondering—can we talk a minute?" she asked.
"Sure," he agreed, blinking. "Er…what's up?"
Her smile wavered a moment. "In private?" she asked. Harry hesitated, but Hermione gave him a little shove so he was forced to follow Julie as she walked out of the Great Hall and down the hallway. He caught up to her, wondering what she wanted to talk about. He hadn't seen her much the entire week, though whenever he'd seen her in the halls he'd smiled and said hello. She'd returned his greetings with smiles every time, so he wasn't sure what was wrong.
"What's going on?" he asked. "Are you all right?"
"I—I'm fine," she said, sounding unsure of herself. Harry glanced at her, letting her continue their walk in silence. If she needed time to think, he'd let her have it.
"Where are we walking?" he asked suddenly, realizing that they'd gone down a flight of stairs and were in a narrower, darker hallway. He turned to go back, but Julie stopped him with a hand on his arm.
"Wait!" she said. Harry pulled.
"No," he said. "Let's go back up—"
Julie burst into tears, and Harry had to turn back as she slid down to the ground, sobbing loudly. "What's wrong?" he asked, alarmed. "Are you okay? What happened?"
"I—I—" she sobbed, face buried in her hands. Harry knelt beside her, trying to get her to look up at him and tell him what was wrong. He really wished he had Hermione with him now to tell him just what he should do, and he was afraid that he was just going to make things worse. He certainly had with Cho, and this was going almost as badly.
And it got much worse as someone down the hall shouted. "Expelliarmus!"
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A/N: Sorry, Cliffie again. I'm writing as fast as I can, and I had to end here as I already have the next chapter all planned out from this point on. Soon I'll do reviewer responses, when I have a moment, but for now just hang with me. I appreciate all the support and even all the critical reviews, because they're helpful in making me a better writer. I can't wait to get to the next few chapters—one coming up is a favorite of mine, and I'm in the process of rewriting another that should be really great.
Look for more action and Snape appearances in the upcoming chapters!
Also, I'm thinking there's probably no more than twenty chapters left to this, though it could be as few as ten or as much as thirty. I'm not really sure. It's coming up on xmas in the story, though, and the spring is mostly going to involve the resolution of the whole 'dark fortress' thing.
Please keep reading and reviewing!
Miss Laine