Choice-Chapter 13: Jasper

Beta'd by borneshadowchilde, thank you!

Even before he was fully awake, Harry could tell it was late...sometime near noon at least. That thought jolted him instantly alert, although he didn't move so much as a muscle. It was one of the most basic rules: never give away the fact that you are conscious if you wake up to unfamiliar situations. And he could tell he was not in his dormitory; the fabric of the bed was rougher, for example, and the air smelled faintly of cleaning potion – the hospital wing!

Having assessed his environment, Harry finally opened his eyes cautiously; it was strange how the instincts he carried over from that part of his childhood appeared to be much more alert now that he actually remembered all those years. Pretending to be asleep was one of those paranoid gestures he had been slipping since he had been taken under Sirius' wing. Bitterly he recognized that it was not a bad thing now that he was picking them up again; he would really need every one of them soon.

It was then he sensed the presence of another in the room, and he berated himself again; it would seem that he had really grown quite careless, and he shuddered to think how he'd never even noticed it before. But no one would hurt me here; it is probably Madam Pomfrey anyway, a part of him protested defensively. Harry sighed; that was exactly his problem. It was just that…no one here would hurt him. But he had to remember never to assume such a thing from now on; things would be different soon enough if he were really to step into the mess Voldemort had somehow gotten himself into again.

Harry could hear footsteps towards his bed, whoever was there apparently caught Harry's sigh. It was not Dumbledore, then, for the headmaster would definitely realize Harry was awake long before that. That thought made him relax a little; the others wouldn't be too hard to deal with. He turned – fully expecting Pomfrey or his Head of House – and was shocked to be facing a pale-faced Sirius Black. Surely it wasn't that serious that it required –

"Do you have any idea how scared I was? To be informed that you had run away in the middle of a class with- with all these happenings...only to be found unconscious in a hallway?"

Now Harry understood; they'd thought he was attacked! He almost laughed at the thought; surely they'd have recognized he was not petrified. And he obviously wasn't dead, either, so how could they think that he'd been... It then dawned on him that the others did not know what kind of monster was lurking in the Chamber; and they couldn't have realized that there were only two options for the victims of a basilisk. Now if he could only remember a bit more about the stories…

"Harry, are you alright? Do you want me to call Madam Pom –"

Harry looked up to find that Sirius' face inches away, clouded with worry. He felt a pang of guilt as he smiled weakly back – just as he was supposed to, "No, I'm okay. I-I'm sorry that you were worried; I didn't mean... it's just –" Harry inhaled deeply, "I dreamed of Remus."

"Oh..."

Harry winced, yet for a very different reason than what Sirius would think. He went on, letting his voice waver just the right amount, "And-and terrible things happened in the dream...I, well, I know it's stupid..." He buried his head in his hands, apparently struggling to pull himself together. When he raised his head again, he made sure Sirius saw an image of a broken little boy bravely calming himself, eyes bright with unshed tears, "I miss him, Sirius."

And that was just the right words.

Sirius instantly forgot all about Harry's rule breaking and instead was trying clumsily to console the supposedly crushed boy. Harry played along, heart heavy. Lying had never seemed so difficult before. Repeatedly he told himself that it was necessary: it was the quickest and surest way to get Sirius off his track, and it wasn't like he hurt the man or anything - okay, maybe a little – but he was shielding Sirius from the even uglier truth. 'Hey, you know what, godfather? I can't stop thinking about Voldemort, yeah, right, Voldemort.' He could just imagine the scene now. Then why did he feel so guilty? With some surprise he realized that he had been upset simply for the sake of lying and that he missed the time when he was able to be mostly honest with the man. This will not do; I have let him in too close...sitting on the bed with Sirius comforting him, Harry was strongly reminded of the day he had first woken up in Hogwarts. Things had been so simple then.

Harry stretched, the conversation he had with the headmaster had been most tiring. Dumbledore wasn't rumored the Dark Lord's most feared wizard for nothing. Harry himself was surprised when the old man bought the – in his opinion – rather shaky story. Harry had said that he had been most upset by Lupin's uprooting and hadn't been feeling his best for a while, and that he had passed out in the corridor so he didn't really have any idea as to what happened. The headmaster had looked grave then, and Harry almost feared that he suspected something. It was then he realized that Dumbledore was hoping to gain some insight into the recent attacks, and that Dumbledore didn't know.

The old man also fished out the bit about the lingering effects of the curse, though, and had had Harry looked over by the Medi-witch. But Harry really couldn't see any harm of his knowing that; besides, it did help him getting off his misconduct rather easily; he didn't even receive a detention for the little feat he pulled in Potions. And then the pain really was becoming some an annoyance; he wouldn't mind getting rid of it if he could. The dreams, though... Harry frowned, confused. Was that really...what Voldemort's childhood had been like? He was used to thinking of the other as something rather formidable and seeing that side of him made Harry uneasy. It just wasn't right; why was Voldemort doing this to him? Can't the man stick to being the invincible Dark Lord so that Harry could stop caring about him in peace?

Shaking his head, he grouped it as another thing to sort out later on in the mess that was his brain and tried to concentrate on the more important matters. Since it was likely that he wouldn't be going anywhere soon, Harry thought he might as well try to clear things up as well as he could. He knew he had thought things over, but he wasn't really in the best condition to do some critical thinking then.

All right, so he had been feeling strange – that could be the after effects of the curse. But he was fine in the summer, and he only started having the dreams and fits after the term started – which also seemed to coincide with Death Eater activities. Yes, Death Eaters, although his mind recoiled at the thought of them, he forced himself to focus on what he knew about those supposed followers of the Dark Lord.

He had seen Lucius Malfoy and a stranger in an alley, conspiring about something. And then he had met Malfoy's son on the train, and that boy had been acting strangely around Harry since then. Most interesting... Draco had acted as if – Harry's eyes widened: as if I were the one behind the attacks. For a panicked moment Harry thought that the Malfoys had found out his connection with the Dark Lord after all, then he forced himself to calm down by taking a succession of deep breaths. He suspects me, true...but it does not mean he suspects everything...he probably just – Harry narrowed his eyes; there was nothing to indicate his own involvement with the attacks. And, for all Malfoy knew, he was just another meek Ravenclaw...then why? He tried to recall all the encounters he had with the Slytherin, searching for every little detail.

On the train...he didn't have to come into my compartment, yet he did, even though he was famous for his distain for other houses. He had given a rather lame excuse and left hurriedly. He was smirking...rather proudly when he left. It could be because of my apparent fear, but it might have been something more. But, I had checked it over for any curse or charm after he left...true my charm was not the most advanced, except I doubted anything he could cast would be overlooked. He did not leave anything as far as I was concerned. Then Ginny came in, we chatted, I handed her bag to her, and we left. Nothing unusual at all.

Harry fingered the ring on his hand thoughtfully, Ginny... The girl had been acting strangely all year, too! But with a shake of head he went on to dismiss her from his thoughts. He no longer had room for distressed little girl's silly problems. Besides it was impossible for her to have anything to do with it at all; her family was too much on the Light side, and herself too insignificant, to play a role in Death Eaters' schemes.

Harry didn't know what it was, a natural instinct, a shadowy feeling of doom and danger, perhaps. But he simply could not brush the Weasley girl aside as he had before. He dimly recalled their conversation and his fleeing suspicion that Ginny was being possessed. But what if, what if there was something Malfoy did which was meant for him, but Ginny took instead? That would explain Ginny's abnormal memory losses and Malfoy's belief that Harry was the culprit. What could it be, though? And how did it relate to the Chamber or the Death Eaters' plan? As far as Harry knew, only a parselmouth could've opened it. The more he thought about it, the more serious this whole thing seemed. It definitely couldn't be just a schoolboy's prank, but could it be another of Voldemort's plan to regain power then? It hurt a little to think that the other man had thought it wise to keep him in the dark...but you had given him plenty of reasons to do so. Maybe he should just stay away and not foil the Dark Lord's plan again...

Harry tugged away the thought before he could get too off-track or his chest too tight. Biting his lips viciously, he ventured to follow his train of thoughts. This concerned him too, after all. So he had a right to know what was going on. And something told him that the well being of one Dark Lord might not be the only thing on the minds of the Death Eaters involved. Concentrating, he tried to recall the story of the Chamber of Secrets, it had been one of the bedtime stories he listened to when Voldemort actually had the time to sit with him. He was young then, probably around four or five, and the memory was foggy. It was ironic how it took him the better part of a few months to find out something he knew all along.

Okay, so it began with...Harry furrowed his brows in concentration, lapsing back in to the words Voldemort had spoken: a brilliant young student finding out about his noble heritage...the calls of his great ancestor, um... Ah, Mud-students were petrified, ancient measures carried out...and a girl killed? Harry frowned as he realized that that was it, and Voldemort never explained what happened after that. The attacks must have stopped, but what made the Dark-Lord-to-be relent (for Harry saw now as he should have done a long time ago: that student could be none other than Voldemort himself)? Dumbledore? That was possible; it could surely explain some of Voldemort's recent towards that man. Was he headmaster already then? It was just like him to stick his nose into everyone's business; he probably did know everything like people said…

Harry abruptly stopped that train of thought as he realized that he was getting off topic yet again; focus on relevant information. He decided he needed to find the Chamber, to check if everything was all right – and the prophecy… what was it about? Riddle had been most disturbed by it...Harry had his own suspicions, but he dared not to voice those thoughts even to himself. Yet he knew he had to see it...relevant information only! Okay, so he needed to find the Chamber; that was the most pressing issue at hand. His childhood story had some vague descriptions of how to go into the Chamber, and Harry was sure he could figure it out once he got there. The tricky thing was to find the entrance in an enormous castle like Hogwarts. Harry was sure books would offer him no help there – not that he would be able to sneak off into the library under his current condition. Besides, he couldn't recall the Dark Lord mentioning the entrance's whereabouts. Wait…that time...Harry remembered how his younger self had asked Voldemort that exact question, and the man had seemed…uncomfortable and muttered about stupid ancestors... So it was somewhere he would be embarrassed to be, huh? Gryffindor common room? Dumbledore's quarters? A Girl's bathroom? Harry cracked a laugh despite himself, not bloody likely! He decided that perhaps he was a bit tired.

Taking it as a sign to give himself a break, he settled into his bed and pulled the sheets over his head, feeling more confused than ever. This was hopeless! There was no way he would be able to figure out things in time.

The next few days dragged by slowly. Harry was bored out of his mind with only classes to divert his attention, but he dared not to sneak away. Pomfrey and the headmaster had come to the conclusion that Harry should stay in the hospital wing until the winter holidays – which was quite near now, and then he could go home and rest. Which meant it left Harry preciously little chance to explore around the castle as he was trapped here, cloak-less, and no doubt under the teachers' watchful eyes. Three days into his confinement, Harry thought perhaps Dumbledore had suspected something after all. Only Hermione came to visit him, bringing him his homework everyday. But Harry wasn't hurt; he knew it was probably due to Dumbledore's measures that his other friends couldn't come. And they are just another thing you need to give up soon, he reminded himself. Although he desperately wanted to talk to Ginny, there was so much to know…

He had experienced a few more dreams and another fit of pain; Madam Pomfrey frowned most disapprovingly when all her pain-killing potions failed to work – not that the fit lasted quite long enough for her to try everything. Although Harry doubted she would have anything to help if it were indeed related to the schemes he knew was going on both in and outside of Hogwarts.

Thus he wasn't particularly reluctant when it came the time to leave for winter holidays, since being trapped in the hospital wing kind of defeated the purpose of staying in school. Being far from the Headmaster also meant another advantage: he would be free to practicing his wandless magic. Besides, spending time with Sirius would be much nicer than with the mother-hen-like Pomfrey and nosy headmaster. Hopefully he'd be allowed back into his dormitory once he returned; he really needed to find out what was going on with Ginny soon.

Currently Harry was meandering in the back garden of Black Manor, with Sirius called away yet again. It was another sign that things were happening; the aurors were busier than ever. Harry couldn't help but feel a little frustrated at his own inaction. However, as it was a week into the holidays, he had began to think that maybe leaving Hogwarts was a good idea; he had not experienced a single fit since, and even the dreams were getting less vivid and more scarce. Maybe things weren't so pressing after all, if he was getting better already. He wondered if this meant his strange condition was tied with the castle and if that had any significance.

It was then he sensed it. Well, perhaps "sense" is not the best word to describe it. Harry didn't particularly feel any intruder's presence, but there was an implacable feeling that told him he was being watched. He stopped in his track momentarily when he realized it, but forced himself to move on as if nothing was wrong. Common sense told him it was probably just a stray animal, but Harry was not so stupid as to move outside of the protective charms of the Manor – and no wild animal could have penetrated them. But the protection in the garden was weaker, Harry remembered as he berated himself again for being so careless. With Sirius gone, the protection of the Manor was his only chance, and how could he have been so stupid as to leave the house? Yet he had not thought… Harry shook his head; he had to stop that way of thinking now if he wanted to survive.

He continued to stroll, moving a little nearer the Manor all the time subtly, his hand gripping his wand inside his cloak. He paused as if to look at a plant more closely and listened for any unusual sound or sudden movement – there was none.

Harry walked on, not changing his leisurely pace, thinking fast. It could not be one of the aurors or any teachers as they would have surely revealed themselves now, and there was no need for them to come in from the back garden. This was not good, whoever it was, was obviously powerful enough to slip into Black Manor's minor charms undetected. Could it be… a pang of panic hit him as he realized that it might be the Death Eaters. No, he could not – must not fall into their grip again! He had to find a way – to escape, to – Harry forced himself to calm; panicking would not help him now. It took all his will power to keep himself from running, which would only prompt the others into action. But he was striding faster all the same. His hyper-excited senses picked up every little sound, and to him it appear as if the Death Eaters were all around behind him, ready to attack –

Harry whirled around, unable to fight the suspense any longer, and a deserted garden greeted him, ever so innocent looking. He relaxed slightly, feeling more than a little stupid now. Perhaps it was just his imagination playing a trick on him; surely no one would – He was hit squarely in the chest by something small and sharp, and before he could even register the pain he was already feeling the paralysation spreading in his body. That was low…he thought foggily before he lost consciousness.

Harry was studying the interesting "box" when he heard the unlocking of the door. He had awakened to find this strange room about half an hour ago, and had not seen a soul since. It was a small room, barely furnished with a few chairs, a desk, and some other strange-looking devices. He could not sense any magic but for the locking and silencing spells around the walls and the door, yet there seemed to be an unknown power running things. The "box," for example, suddenly had moving pictures appear on its front side when Harry touched a button, and along with it came some of the most accurate mimicries of real human voices. After coming out behind the desk, which he had taken as a shelter when the shock first came, Harry suddenly realized what was wrong with the room as he stared at the funnily-dressed people move in the box: it was decidedly Muggle.

He relaxed a little when he realized that, Muggles are helplessly ignorant; it was unlikely that they'd have anything lethal in this room. And, more importantly, it meant that his captors were probably not Death Eaters. He didn't recall any alarm being triggered when he was attacked, either; and this finding just strengthened his suspicion that the other had used a Muggle method. However no Muggle could have been able to find the Manor, and the spells on the door were definitely magical. Harry pondered at the interesting combination.

And then he heard the door. Harry vehemently suppressed a flare of panic that threatened to rise: Before he knew of the other's intentions, he would have to play along while looking for any chance to escape. Therefore with some difficulty he placed himself in the chair and pretended to be engrossed by the little scene the "box" was playing. Secretly though, he counted every step the other took, and he could only hope that his heart did not pound so loudly that it echoed off the walls –

"A most intriguing device, don't you think? I think the Muggles call it the television," a jovial voice spoke not two feet away.

Summoning all his determination, Harry suppressed the urge to spring around. Instead, he turned causally, masking his panic: the sight of a man of average-height greeted him. He was quite pleasant looking and rather thin; he looked no more than thirty-five, but Harry knew better than to assume anything. Carefully combed sandy hair hung over his extremely pale face; and, Harry noted, just like Remus, he also had amber eyes. However, there could be no mistaking between the two. Unlike Remus, every posture of this man screamed alertness despite his apparent gaiety. And there was a fathomless darkness in his eyes, intimidating and intriguing all at the same time. He was also dressed lavishly in black silk that Remus would never be able to afford in a lifetime.

"Hello, Harry," the man smiled, "Long time no see."

A/N: If you are wondering who this man might be, look at the title. (hint hint)

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Igonia: Thank you for being so understanding. Last chapter was crucial in the sense that there were two paths this story could take and how I write last chapter would determine that, I was quite torn between the two. Now that I finally made up my mind updates should be quicker. Here you'll see Harry's excuse, and he has another nasty shock about his memory in the next chapter.

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Q: Who is "they" anyways?
A: If you are referring to the end of the story, "they" refers to the teachers. Sorry for the confusion.

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A: Yes, the Order still exists. But here the prophecy is a bit altered, as you'll see later.

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