Chapter 26
Be Prepared, Harry Potter
"Murder. It's a powerful magical force, but weak-minded wizards refuse to utilize it. I, on the other hand, have fully enjoyed its benefits. In my younger years when I immersed myself in the outer limits of magic, I learned of the power of murder, when properly harnessed, and that power will again serve me today."
Lord Voldemort sat patiently in the mid afternoon as the shadows of the Forbidden Forest started to lengthen. An hour before, he added the final ingredient to the potion that he would give to Narcissa Malfoy, but now the mixture needed to brew over a low heat for six hours, being stirred briefly every twenty minutes. He entertained himself with a one-sided conversation with the witch, who could not respond due to the gag in her mouth. Voldemort had no interest in her opinions.
Truth be told, he did not need to treat her so harshly, but she deserved to suffer for the failures of her husband and the treason of her son. Once he determined that he needed the power of a murder to overcome the wards around Hogwarts, immediately he knew the identity of the victim.
By now, Narcissa well knew her fate. Since Draco's disappearance, she wondered when the dark lord would send for her, perhaps to kill her, perhaps "merely" to torture her or to hand her to his death eaters for their pleasure. After several days had passed, she thought that perhaps the dark lord did not hold her responsible, but no such luck. Now as she lay bound and gagged on the bare dirt of the Forbidden Forest, she wished that her fate would come quickly. Having to wait another five hours was the worst torture she could suffer. If only she could find some way to end her suffering sooner rather than later.
"I discovered this potion many years ago, forty at least, from an interesting wizard in Afghanistan. It allows a person to enter most warded areas for a brief period of time, only a few minutes. Not especially helpful, especially for such a time-consuming potion which loses its effectiveness after twenty minutes. It was I who discovered that combining the potion with the power derived from the act of murder can in fact defeat the wards completely. The previous wards could not be defeated in such a way as they were personally tied to Dumbledore, but these wards lack that power."
Peter sat away from Narcissa, not wishing to make eye contact with her. He disliked her. Always had, even at Hogwarts. Yet he had also known her since their childhood, and he could not prevent pangs of guilt that he would do nothing to prevent her impending murder. She should not expect him too, of course, since that would necessarily result in his death as well.
Lord Voldemort appeared to be in an excellent mood. Clearly his physical well-being, relatively speaking, improved his spirits as well, and Peter had never seen him in such an expansive mood. Voldemort knew that his continued monologue tortured Narcissa as much as a Cruciatus Curse, and he delighted in every word.
"You should be proud, dear Narcissa, to be able to atone for the sins of your family. Lucius' failure to obtain the prophecy. Draco's betrayal. Your family has delayed my ultimate victory, but now you can help me take a large step forward." Voldemort stepped forward to stir the potion at the correct time, two full strokes to the left and one half stroke to the right.
While his attention moved away from his victim, Narcissa turned over sharply and stared at Peter. The sudden movement caught the death eater's eye, and before he could stop himself, he looked at her. The bound and gagged witch's eyes opened wide with fear, and Peter read their message perfectly: Kill me before he does! Her eyes implored him, but he turned his head away.
Never had he hated himself more than at that moment.
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Ron and Hermione had been walking around the Hogwarts grounds while Harry and Evan swam. At first Ginny tagged along, but after a few minutes, she sensed that she should leave the two alone, and she excused herself. As she walked away, she could not help but turn around for a moment to watch the backs of her brother and friend walking away.
Ginny had known for years of Ron's attraction to Hermione, but she also knew that he held ambivalent feelings towards her. The few times she half broached the subject, Ron brushed her off, not admitting any feelings at all. She fretted for her brother. In the past, Hermione admitted to her that she liked Ron, though she also complained about him. For whatever reason, the two of them never took the next step. Or even the first step. Now Ginny sensed that the moment had passed. She turned back towards the castle and chuckled to herself, Why should I be the only one to suffer?
The two friends meandered for half an hour speaking of the mundane, at times wondering how Harry was faring beneath the surface of the lake. As time passed, they each felt the nerves caused by dancing around the ever-present subject. Finally they tired of walking and sat on a grassy knoll a quarter mile away from the lake, enjoying a spectacular view of the lake and the forest beyond. After a lengthy silence, Ron softly initiated the conversation that they both knew they needed to have.
"Hermione, can I . . . Can I ask you something?"
"Sure, Ron," she replied just as softly, maintaining her gaze over the scene in front of her. Ron paused for a few seconds, not sure exactly how to word it.
"I'm just wondering what you feel about us, I mean, the boys in your life. Victor Krum. Me. And Harry. Or anyone else."
Hermione felt her stomach jump at the question even though she knew Ron would ask some variation of it. Despite Ron and Harry being her best friends, they were boys, and she never felt comfortable discussing her romantic feelings with them, especially because in the past, some of those romantic feelings had been directed at the tall, lanky red head himself. She recalled how she felt when Harry unexpectedly joked about Ron wanting to declare his undying love for her when Harry and she ate breakfast a week earlier. She decided to deal with the easy part of the question first.
"Victor is just a friend, Ron. He liked me, and I thought he was nice, but he's not my type. We haven't even been writing lately."
Ron nodded, expecting as much. In the past, he did hold jealous feeling towards the Bulgarian seeker, but a lot of time had passed since those days, and he knew enough about Hermione to understand that she held no romantic feelings. He continued to stare at her, awaiting the remainder of her answer.
Unknown to Ron, she had considered this very question at great length over the past two evenings, ever since Ginny confronted her two nights before. Until the invisible Harry whispered to her so unexpectedly in her hometown a week before, she firmly believed that she maintained no romantic inclinations towards him. For one thing, Harry did not seem interested in her, briefly falling for the exotic Cho Chang and then more seriously becoming involved with the energetic Ginny Weasley.
But spending those days alone with Harry in her hometown changed everything. For the first time that she could remember, she felt nervous around him, and anxiously awaited meeting him each day. When Harry mentioned his time with Melissa Montgomery, she felt a strange churning in her stomach, and then Harry shocked her by declaring matter-of-factly that he no longer loved Ginny. They held hands. So much had changed.
"I don't know what to tell you," she finally continued in a soft monotone. She moved her eyes off of the lake and redirected them to the wisps of grass in front of her.
Immediately Ron understood. He had long suspected that Hermione suppressed feelings for Harry, just as he had long suppressed his feelings for her. Seeing them together these past few days only reinforced that suspicion, and strangely enough, he did not feel especially upset about it. Yes, he liked Hermione, but he had to ask himself whether he REALLY liked her. Sometimes, she drove him crazy, and he knew that the feeling must be mutual.
More than anything, he regretted that they had not initiated a romance during their sixth year, like normal teenagers. They could have enjoyed the giddiness of the first days as boyfriend-girlfriend, become more comfortable with each other, enjoyed time together, until finally they would inevitably argue, making up, breaking up, making up, and then breaking up for good. Ron had never truly experienced that (despite his exuberant experiences with Lavender Brown), and even though it may have ended in heartache, he wished it would have happened. Just like it did for Harry and Ginny. Now, however, it was too late.
"It's OK," he whispered sadly, resignation in his voice, "I can tell. It's going to be difficult for you; you know that, don't you?" Surprised by Ron's words, Hermione turned sharply to look at him.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that I know you like Harry. And I'm pretty sure Harry likes you, though he has a few other things on his mind right now." He looked out over the lake in which Harry swam at that very moment. Ron recalled Harry's question about Ron's intentions with Hermione. He knew Harry well enough to decipher his intention behind the question. Harry wanted to know if his best mate would make a move with their best female friend. Being the noble type, Harry almost certainly would have allowed Ron his chance, but the red head now understood that Harry could no longer deny his attraction towards Hermione. Ron saw how they interacted these past few days.
A wave of relief flowed though Hermione. She assumed that this conversation would be terribly difficult, but Ron beat her to the punch. For one thing, she had not entirely convinced herself of what she felt, but hearing it from Ron, she knew it to be true. After Ginny confronted her, she began to understand her complicated feelings towards Harry Potter, and at first the realization scared her. Ron's blunt conclusion removed the final scales from her eyes.
"It WILL be hard," she agreed with Ron's previous statement, "I don't know what's going to happen to him. I'm not sure which Harry I like, the old one, the current one, or the one he's going to be after it's all over. And what should I do? Nothing? Should I tell him now? He has so much on his mind." She looked at Ron and could see the sadness on his face and realized that she was acting insensitively to her friend. "I'm sorry, Ron, I shouldn't be talking about this with you."
"No, no. That's OK," Ron countered, "I'd rather have it all out in the open. In a way, I feel like we are breaking up even though we've never been together. But it would have happened sooner or later. I don't think we were made for each other."
"Why do you think that?" asked Hermione, a touch of incredulity in her voice. She had similar thoughts over the past days, but it seemed to her that for a change Ron had a better handle on this than she did.
"Well, I've been thinking about us lately. The three of us. I thought, 'What if Harry Potter did not exist? What if you and I came to Hogwarts, were sorted into Gryffindor, and all the rest. Would we have become close friends?' To tell you the truth, I don't think so." Ron paused to allow Hermione to think this hypothetical through. "Then I thought, 'What if Hermione Granger did not exist, but Harry and I were sorted into Gryffindor? Would he and I have been friends?' And I think that the answer is yes, we would still be best mates. Which leads to the final scenario - Ronald Weasley doesn't exist but Harry and you do. Would the two of you have become best friends? I think so."
Hermione had never viewed their friendship in quite this way, and she intensely considered the three hypothetical situations. She could not dispute Ron's version, so she remained strangely silent.
"I'm really happy that you're my friend, Hermione, but I realized that we don't have that much in common. If it wasn't for Harry, I don't know that we would be more than casual friends. For that reason alone, I'm glad Harry is my friend." Hermione bit her bottom lip, somehow feeling that agreeing with Ron was morally wrong, but she knew that he made perfect sense. She did not like Ron at all when they first met years earlier, and though she may have surpassed that first impression, she doubted that she, a driven and at times insufferable know-it-all, would have connected with a polar-opposite like Ron. "What do you think?" Ron added after a lengthy silence.
"I think you're right," she whispered, and she did not understand why she had to fight back tears. She did not speak further, and the two friends sat silently for a few minutes, each lost in their thoughts. Then a quarter of a mile down the hill, they saw Harry and Evan emerge from the waters of the lake.
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Upon returning to the Ministry, a couple of aurors grabbed Evan Harrington and pulled him into a small meeting room where three other aurors already sat, deep in discussion.
"We found Evan," one of the aurors stated, "Now we have six; that should be enough."
In the next five minutes, Evan learned that Cho Chang, a lowly intern, had copied sensitive documents from the Minister of Magic's office. When the order issued to arrest her, she fled, and thus far, she could not be located. Someone mentioned that Chang often visited with Kingsley Shacklebolt, so a new order issued to detain Kingsley for questioning. Renown for his skill with a wand, the aurors decided that they should have numbers on their side, just in case. Hopefully their colleague would come quietly and would be absolved of any responsibility. Evan knew better.
The six aurors approached Kingsley's small office, where he nervously dug into the piles of paperwork in front of him. He felt confident that nobody saw him with Cho the previous day, but he also knew that he had publicly met her for lunch on a few occasions and spoke with her from time to time in hallways. Arthur Weasley and he decided that he should return to work in the hope that the Ministry would overlook him. Failure to appear would most definitely alert the Ministry. They would have to roll the dice.
When the first two men passed through the door, Kingsley precisely knew their purpose. Not to arrest him, but to question him, voluntarily or not. He did not resist, unable to apparate from this area of the Ministry. As he made his way to the door, he briefly made eye contact with Evan Harrington, who nodded his head just a quarter of an inch. Kingsley noticed and knew that Evan would try to do something.
"I better hold your wand for the moment, Kingsley," Evan advised as the tall black auror passed by him, "Normal procedure." Kingsley nodded and handed over his long black wand. Evan took the position directly behind the captive with the other five trailing behind. They walked that way for several minutes, and gradually they relaxed. Kingsley clearly did not plan to resist. Probably he would be absolved, and that would be the end of it.
But as they turned a corner, Evan barely whispered, "Now." Kingsley spun around and struck Evan across the face. Evan dropped Kingsley's wand in front of him and fell backward into the other five as they turned the corner.
In a flash, Kingsley summoned his wand, turned and yelled, "Stupefy." He connected with one of the five, who fell into one of the others. With the six aurors momentarily in disarray, Kingsley shot forward, running as fast as his long legs would take him.
Recovering first, Evan yelled, "GET HIM; STUPEFY." His stunner missed its target by a foot to the left. Another auror threw his own stunner, but Kingsley turned another corner a second before it would have hit him. The five conscious aurors raced forward to begin the chase, Evan at the lead, yelling instructions.
Kingsley still could not apparate from this section of the Ministry building, so he decided he must escape in the same manner as Cho. Darting through a random door, he surprised two witches busy in the Apparation Licensing office. Seeing a coffee mug, he tapped it twice, muttered, "portus," and a second later disappeared. Five seconds after that, Evan and the four others stormed through the door, causing the two women to scream at the top of their lungs.
Eventually the women informed them of Kingsley's actions, and Evan especially demonstrated anger at the turn of events. Embarrassed and frustrated, the aurors left to check on their fallen colleague and to report to their superiors.
That was a close call, Evan thought, recognizing how disastrous Shacklebolt's detention could have been. This would change everything, he knew. Orders would be issued for Shacklebolt's arrest for having attacked his fellow auror, and no doubt investigations would commence which may lead to the discovery of the Order of the Phoenix. If they learned of the Order, they ultimately would learn about Evan's role in it. Time was running out.
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A few moments after Evan left Harry by the lakeshore, Ron and Hermione came trotting down the hill. Harry eyed them warily, trying to divine what they had been doing.
"How'd it go?" Ron asked, arriving a few steps before Hermione.
Harry shrugged, "Well enough. We didn't find anything, but I learned how to cast spells under water. Took a few tries, but easy enough."
Ron and Hermione still had not accustomed themselves to Harry's new-found cockiness, so they merely nodded.
"It's a little tiring," he commented, "but we'll give it another go tomorrow. We played it safe today, staying well above the bottom to avoid grindylows and away from the merpeople's village. We'll have to look harder from now on." He stripped the wet t-shirt off his back and grabbed a towel that they brought down from the dormitory. As usual, he did not seem at all concerned.
Something had happened between his two friends, Harry sensed, but given their subdued demeanor and the fact that they stood several feet away from each other, he did not sense that a new romance had commenced, in fact quite the opposite. A wave of relief passed through him, which caused him to feel ashamed. But he still felt relief.
"Let's head back," Harry suggested, but off to his left his peripheral vision noted movement, causing him to pause a moment to look. Sure enough, he saw Hagrid in the distance running towards him, arms flailing back and forth. No doubt the half giant was yelling at Harry as well, but the three friends could not yet hear him. Ron and Hermione stepped forward on either side of Harry observing.
"Harry, Harry!" they finally heard in the distance, "Hold up a minute." Harry waved to indicate that they heard him, and the three friends walked towards him. Hagrid slowed down once he knew that they saw him. Finally they met further down the lakeshore, Hagrid breathing heavily.
"Glad yeh saw me, Harry, somethin's happenin'. Strange." Hagrid had to stop to inhale a massive amount of air.
"What is it, Hagrid?" Harry responded, more to allow Hagrid to breath than anything.
"What yeh been doin', Harry," Hagrid asked, his eyes arched in concern, noting that Harry's hair remained wet and that he stood dressed only in swimming trunks and a white towel draped around his neck.
"I've been swimming," Harry replied, "Some business I have in the lake. What do you need to tell me?"
"Shouldn' be swimmin' in the lake, Harry. Dangerous down there. Merpeople, grindylows, the squid." Hagrid appeared genuinely worried.
"Thanks for your concern, Hagrid. What do you need to tell me?" Harry used his new tone of voice which informed the listener not to bother him any more but to get down to business.
"Oh, well, strange happenin's, Harry. I was workin' in the forest, jus' along the edge, mind you, where centaurs never go, when out of the blue, one of 'em comes up behin' me. Scared me good, I don' mind tellin' yeh. Them centaurs can move quiet as a mouse. Was a young male; never seen him before. Said his name was Socrates. Funny name, if yeh ask me. Who ever heard of a name like tha'?"
"Actually," explained Hermione, "It's the name of a Greek . . ."
"Not now, Hermione," Harry interrupted, "Just tell me what this Socrates said, Hagrid."
"Right. What Socrates said. Well, he didn' say much, just told me he needs to talk to Harry Potter. Real important, he said. Urgent." Hagrid turned up his massive nose and added, "Didn' like him much. Course me and the centaurs haven' been gettin' along lately."
Harry considered this unexpected turn of events. Not exactly on the best of terms with centaurs either, Harry had no urge to meet with them, but he also recalled Dumbledore's letter to him in which he recognized the centaurs' abilities in Divination. Perhaps the stars revealed something new that they felt he needed to know.
"Where does he want to meet? And when?"
"Now," Hagrid replied, half turning and pointing behind him, "He's waitin' right now, down by my cabin, jus' on the edge of the forest. Don' think he means any harm, but if yeh don' want t' talk to him, I'll tell him."
"No, we'll talk to him. Let's go." He stepped forward.
Hermione tapped him on the back while saying, "Wait a second, Harry. You should probably put this back on." She took the wet black t-shirt off of his shoulder and waved her wand to a drying spell. Harry took the shirt back from her and smiled. The young witch smiled in return, and for a few seconds, their eyes met. Harry saw something in hers that he had never seen before, and it filled him with warmth. He wished he could have stared into her eyes for an hour, but with business at hand, he turned away to walk down to Hagrid's cabin.
Ten minutes later they passed the cultivated plots behind the cabin and turned towards the edge of the Forbidden Forest where Hagrid left the centaur. At first, they saw nothing, as expected, for the naturally reclusive centaur would have retreated into the trees.
Hagrid took a few enormous strides into the forest and bellowed, "Socrates! Harry Potter is here. He's bein' ready to talk to yeh." Almost magically the tall, young centaur emerged from a thicket of trees to Hagrid's right, cantering cautiously but proudly. The horse-like body bore thick wavy auburn hair which nearly matched the slightly lighter-colored hair on the human-like head. He appeared to be relatively young but in the prime of his physical prowess, not a creature to be considered lightly. Strapped over his shoulder hung a quiver of arrows, with the bow held lightly in his left hand. He passed Hagrid silently and headed to the edge of the trees where Harry and the others awaited.
Seeing Ron and Hermione, Socrates hesitated before informing Harry haughtily, "I have a message for you, Harry Potter. It is only for you; I cannot divulge it in the presence of others." He glared threateningly at Ron and Hermione, clearly expecting them to leave promptly at his insistence. Harry, however, had other ideas.
"You'll either give the message to me in their presence, or you will not give it me at all," Harry countered calmly but firmly, "They are my most trusted friends, and I will not send them away."
"That's OK, Harry. We can go," Hermione advised him, "We'll just walk up to Hagrid's cabin. You can tell . . ."
She never finished the sentence due to the glare from Harry which silently but clearly instructed her not to interfere. Given his past encounters with centaurs, Harry had developed a negative attitude towards them and their holier-than-thou attitude. He knew that the message had to be of tremendous importance for the centaurs to take the extraordinary step of sending an emissary to the edge of the forest. Socrates was merely trying to play mind-games, and Harry would have none of it.
"I have my instructions," Socrates insisted falsely, for in fact the centaur council of elders never mentioned the presence of others. At this point, however, the centaur's extreme sense of honor overcame him, and he would not succumb to this mere human's resistence.
"And I have given you my answer," Harry retorted hotly, "Let's go." Turning around, he confidently strode away from the forest's edge towards Hagrid's cabin, while Hermione and Ron stood still. Exasperated, they did not know what to do. They knew as well as Harry that the centaur's message must be important, and they saw no reason for Harry's show of bravado. Who cared?
Harry cared, and he walked away intently, not caring whether the centaur called for him or not. Socrates sensed Harry's resolve and knew that the elders would punish him severely for failure to deliver the message, even if at the expense of his dignity.
"Please return, Harry Potter," the centaur called out, "I will give you the message." Harry smirked at Socrates' irritated voice, but he turned around and returned to face the magical creature, which stood nearly a foot taller than he. Socrates hesitated dramatically.
"The message is this, Harry Potter. The stars are clear. The final confrontation with the forces of evil is approaching soon. Very soon."
Is that all, Harry asked himself when the centaur paused again, As if I didn't already know that.
But Socrates continued, "The dark lord, Voldemort, has been seen in the forest. In fact, he is there now. Yesterday, one of our scouts spied him and a servant. Today, we have seen him with the same servant and a woman, who has been bound. The dark lord is brewing a potion in a large cauldron, and apparently has not yet completed it. We do not know his intentions, but given the message of the stars, we must assume that these are preparations for the final confrontation. You must be prepared, Harry Potter. Our most gifted seers are unanimous in their analyses. The confrontation shall be between the dark lord Voldemort and you, within the next three days. Be prepared, Harry Potter."
With that, Socrates turned and sprinted back to the protection of the dense forest while Harry, Ron, Hermione and Hagrid watched him silently.
Hermione and Ron finally turned to look at Harry, worry etched into their eyes. What they saw scared them to their bones.
Harry's lips formed a smirk. And his eyes glowed.