I'm not sure what it is about Mondays. Maybe because I don't watch anything in particular on Sunday or Monday, I just forget what day it is. For those of you who are reading this, I'd dearly love some help. An author on this site, SnapeSnape is posting one of my unfinished stories, without my permission. He's changed the title to Willing Shadows, but it's actually called Darker Shades and is currently only to be found on my yahoogroup. I know people have been reporting him, but he's still posting. If you could help get him off this site, I would appreciate it.
Mythic Alliance
by Jendra
Harry sat up with a scream that rebounded through the confines of his bed, but was muffled from going beyond by the permanent silencing spells he'd long ago put upon his bed curtains. His hand flew to his scar and he gritted his teeth as he fought the pain. He wasn't sure what exactly had angered the Dark Lord so much that he could feel it this clearly, but something obviously had. And what he had ordered *had* come through loud and clear.
As Harry had told Severus, most of the time when his scar hurt, there was nothing more than that. Sometimes however, he got very clear pictures, as if he were there. It all seemed to depend on how much emotion Voldemort was feeling at the time. This time he was angry, and that anger had allowed Harry to see practically the whole meeting. Happily, it allowed him to know that neither Severus nor Malfoy were the ones in trouble, but he also knew that there was no way Severus would be able to report back before the attack. Therefore, it was up to him to do something about it.
He desperately wanted to be out there, helping those who were going to be attacked, but whether Severus believed it or not, he did have some idea of his capabilities. Getting to a place that he neither knew the precise location of nor had ever been, in time to fight, was beyond him. Fighting that many Death Eaters was also beyond him. Alerting someone who could get help, however, wasn't.
He pushed himself out of bed and through the curtains, then had to grab the nearest bedpost as pain flared once more. The next bedpost within reach was Ron's, and the redhead woke grouchily as his bed was shaken. "What?" he started to growl before noticing that it was Harry, and the other boy was standing with one hand grasping his bedpost and the other pressed hard against his forehead.
"Are you okay, mate?" he asked, instantly worried. "Is there anything I can do?"
"I've got to get to Dumbledore," Harry said through gritted teeth.
"Hold on," Ron ordered, getting out of bed, grabbing his robe and donning his slippers. He went over to Harry and knelt down, carefully helping him into his own slippers, before grabbing him by the arm and helping him out the door.
Normally Harry would complain about not needing help, but right now getting there in one piece and as quickly as possible was more important, and the pain was making him dizzy.
"Is he okay?" Neville asked softly.
"I'll be fine," Harry tried to reassure him, but his voice was shaking a bit too much for it to be very convincing.
"It'll be okay," Ron answered as well, even as he led the way down the stairs.
"What did you see?" he asked, once they had passed through the portal that led to the Gryffindor dorms.
"He's ordered an attack on someplace called King Arthur's Rest. It sounds like it's some kind of subdivision with a lot of Muggleborn and half-and-half families. He wants them all dead." That was a worry as well. The only reason for that much death was if he wanted to pull in their magic. But what would he need so much magic for? What could he possibly be planning that would require that much strength?
They reached the gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore's office. Ron started calling out candy names hoping to run across the password. Harry just reached out and placed his hand on the head of the gargoyle. "My scar hurts," he said clearly. The gargoyle moved away, letting the two boys get on the moving staircase.
"When did that happen?" Ron asked.
"Earlier this year. It was decided it would be best if I could get in if there were a real emergency," Harry explained.
"I didn't know that," Ron muttered.
"I wasn't supposed to tell anyone," Harry responded. He looked at Ron and could easily imagine what he was thinking. "So I didn't tell anyone," he continued. "Not anyone at all."
Ron blushed slightly at being known so well, but looked happier. At least it wasn't something else that Malfoy knew before him.
They entered Dumbledore's office to find the Headmaster waiting for them. "Is something the matter?" he asked kindly.
"I had a vision," Harry told him straight out. "He's ordered an attack on a place called King Arthur's Rest."
"Do you know when it's supposed to happen?" Dumbledore asked, his twinkle fading.
"Now," Harry told him.
"Does your scar still hurt?" Dumbledore asked.
Harry nodded.
"He had trouble walking," Ron told the Headmaster.
"If you would take him to the hospital wing, Mr. Weasley, I would appreciate it. I will get the Aurors on it immediately."
"I don't need to see Madam Pomfrey," Harry disagreed. "I've got pain and sleep potions in the dorm."
"If you're sure," Dumbledore allowed.
Harry read it as the dismissal it was and headed out the door with Ron right behind him. They needed to get out of the way so Dumbledore could do what was required.
"Maybe we should go tell Seamus," Ron said thoughtfully.
"Seamus? What does he have to do with anything?" Harry asked in surprise. He could see telling Draco; after all, he was the one waiting up for Severus, but Seamus?
"I think his parents live there," Ron explained.
"Oh, Merlin," Harry closed his eyes in pain. "I hope I got to Dumbledore in time," he prayed. He didn't think he'd be able to look the other Gryffindor in the eye ever again if tonight's raid made him an orphan. He took a deep breath. "It won't do any good to tell him right now, there's nothing he could do except worry about it."
"Are you sure?"
"What could he do, Ron? Honestly, what good would it do to let him know?" Harry asked him seriously, then answered himself, "It would only make him mad with worry, and he'd be helpless to do anything about it."
Reluctantly, Ron agreed, and they headed back to the dorm together.
Harry willingly took the pain potion, but refused the sleep potion. Ron finally gave up on arguing with him, and reluctantly went back to bed himself. He might have been worried, and did not wish to leave Harry awake by himself, but he was tired enough that he fell back to sleep quickly.
Once sure that his friend was asleep, and that his own pain had receded to manageable levels, Harry got up and pulled the Invisibility cloak around him. He headed down to the Potions Master's rooms.
He knew Severus would not be particularly happy to find Harry waiting for him, but he didn't really care. He had to know what had happened and if his warning was in time.
It seemed like he sat for hours, simply staring into the fire. He considered finding a book to read but knew he wouldn't be able to concentrate. Instead he just sat and waited.
Finally, his waiting bore fruit. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the shadows darken in a corner of the room. He turned to look, surprised when the first person he saw was blonde and aristocratic, not at all who he was expecting. His eyes just caught sight of a black bird before it changed into the wizard he had been awaiting.
"Professor, Malfoy," Harry said in welcome.
"My, my, Severus, a student in your rooms after curfew? I didn't know you had it in you," Lucius murmured with a small smile. He was instantly pinned by two irritated glares.
"Unfortunately, Mr. Potter seems to feel that rules still have nothing to do with him," Severus drawled.
Harry was done with the small talk. "How many died?" he asked.
"I'm assuming you are the reason the Aurors got there so quickly?" Severus asked.
"Me and Dumbledore," Harry agreed. "How many died?" he asked intently once more.
"Not very many," Severus informed him. "The Aurors arrived before much could be done."
"*How* *many*?" he practically growled.
"Far fewer than there would have been, Potter, but I don't know. Nor do I believe I would tell you if I did, because for some strange reason, you would blame yourself over it, even though the only thing you could possibly be blamed for is *saving* *all* of the others," Severus retorted.
"Do you at least know if the Finnegans are all right?"
"Mr. Finnegan's relatives?" Severus asked, surprised.
"His parents," Harry agreed. "They live there."
"I don't know," Severus admitted. "However, very few houses were attacked, so chances are good that they're okay."
"Mr. Potter," Lucius Malfoy spoke up for the first time since his initial comment. "Considering all I have heard of you from my son and your professor, I find it very interesting that neither told me of this streak of insanity you seem to be harboring."
Harry turned to look at him in confusion. "I'm not insane!"
"You are blaming yourself for a madman's actions. If that's not insanity, what would you call it?"
"I should have gotten to Dumbledore quicker," Harry insisted.
"How?" was the simple question.
Harry opened his mouth to answer, but what could he say? There really was no way he could have gotten there more quickly, but that didn't mean anything. He still should have been able to do something.
Severus smiled at his friend in thanks. He could tell by the mulish expression on Harry's face, that he didn't believe it, but the more he was told it, and from as many different people as possible, the more chance he would begin to be convinced.
"Get back to bed, Mr. Potter. There's nothing you can do now," Severus prodded.
Harry nodded and got up, heading for the door.
"Oh, and Harry," Severus stopped him. "Thank you."
Harry turned and stared at him in surprise. "For what?"
"If the Aurors hadn't come when they had, I would have been forced to do something I would have greatly regretted," Severus explained.
Harry looked at him for a long time, then for the first time this night he slowly smiled. It was small, but it was definitely there. "You're welcome, Severus." He turned and left.