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My Heart Burns

Chapter V: Waking Up the Devil

SsSsS

When you look into the abyss, the abyss looks into you.

SsSsS

Harry sat on his bed in the Slytherin dorm, alone and thoughtful. School would resume in just four more days, and he wanted to preview his notes from last year, taken when he was free to search the Restricted Section undisturbed. It was a very good chance he would not get the same treatment this year, depending on what new fool Dumbledore hired for the Defense professor. If the headmaster ever found one to hire, that is. Harry had watched as Dumbledore hurriedly browsed through prospective employees. What few there were.

So far, Dumbledore still hadn't found anyone who actually wanted to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts.

Harry kept going back to one particular set of notes, taken from an advanced charms and curses textbook. He'd taken the notes, finding more than a few interesting hexes and useful charms, but one curse stood out from the rest, and he couldn't get his mind off of it. He wanted to learn it more than anything, but he could not understand why. The curse was one of the most dangerous, most destructive he'd ever heard of, and would be very difficult to learn. It was known for being nearly impossible to control as well.

The voice inside that kept pushing Harry, eager to learn more and more, was nearly giddy every time Harry read his notes on the Fiendfyre curse.

sSsSs

The Malfoy Manor was buzzing with activity. Not for many years had the house been the meeting place for so many Death Eaters. Lucius and Narcissa made their guests feel at home, though took special care not to let them all become too comfortable. The utmost comfort and hospitality went to the man sitting at the head of the lavish dinning room table.

Plans had already been made, and Lucius had already killed two men who were innocent. They were not guilty of any crime that he knew of, they had simply been unfortunate, in the way. The secret letters that Lucius had killed the men for were from agents within the Ministry, spies having originally worked for Augustus Rookwood. Lucius had to contact all of them, as per the plan his Lord brought with him to Malfoy Manor less than one year prior.

Re-establishing contact with the old spies within the Ministry, and other places, was going to make the next step of the plan so much easier. The new additions to their group of spies should work out nicely, as well.

Especially the young Theodore Nott, who apparently was Harry Potter's closest friend. The Malfoy's son, Draco, had been given his own task. It would take a bit more patience, but the Dark Lord had plenty of that. Time was on his side now, thanks to Quirrell actually coming through and getting the Stone. The Philosopher's Stone had worked wonders, doing more for Voldemort than originally thought possible. The Elixir of Life had strengthened his soul to the point of being in complete control of Quirrell's body. It was humorous, the way it had worked out. The parasite had now become the jailer, the former host now trapped within himself, no longer able to live on the outside. Quirrell's body worked well enough, but Voldemort yearned for his real form, his stronger existence.

Quirrell would do for now, but the success of his followers was pertinent to him, and if they did as he instructed, the Dark Lord would once again be back. In earnest.

They will succeed, he knew they would. It was not arrogance or faith that told him this. It was truth. The Death Eaters would not dare mess anything up for their master, for they all knew the consequences, even the young ones. They would return to him with success, or they had better not return at all.

sSsSs

Dumbledore had cut it close.

It wasn't until the second day of school did the students learn that they actually would have a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher this year. The first day had come, and all the Defense classes had been cancelled, as they still had no professor willing to teach the subject. Somehow, Dumbledore had managed to coerce some poor sod into taking the position, and almost too late. Though, now that they actually could go to class, Harry was anxious to meet the man. His name was Remus Lupin, and Harry hoped he really was the "poor sod" everyone had deemed him to be.

Unfortunately, Harry found Lupin wasn't a fool. At least, not completely. This professor was soft-spoken, though he never stuttered. He was enigmatic, though not flamboyant. Lupin seemed to be a real teacher, someone who could really teach. This should have impressed Harry, given Hogwarts lack of competent instructors, but it actually made Harry angry.

From the moment Harry saw this Remus Lupin, he did not care for him at all. Harry felt some misplaced resentment, some unexplainable unease. There was something about Lupin, something wrong, that made Harry want to place himself far away from.

Harry sat through the very first Defense Against the Dark Arts class of his third year anxious, his whole body shaking nearly as violently as his left arm.

sSsSs

"So Potter, will you come?"

Harry was suspicious of Malfoy's request. He suddenly wanted Harry to come to a Christmas banquet at his manor, something he'd never invited Harry to before. They'd already known each other for three years, and though they weren't close, Harry was still on friendly terms with Malfoy. Then again, Harry kept on friendly terms with everyone in Slytherin, whether he liked them or not.

Harry thought over the request once more. Something was going on, had to be. Why would the Malfoy family, whom Harry had never met, want to invite the Boy-Who-Lived into their home for a holiday party? Yes, Malfoy had asked every third year Slytherin to attend, but many of them usually went anyway, most of their families' friends and acquaintances of the Malfoys. So far, everyone Draco begged had agreed to go. Everyone, save for Harry.

Would it be worth going? Harry really didn't care about meeting the rest of the Malfoy family, or any of the other rich purebloods who would be there. If this was some kind of trick, what would be worth the risk to Harry? Rumors of Lucius Malfoy being a Death Eater still circulated around the school from time to time, especially now that someone was killing innocent Ministry employees. That fact was something to consider. Just because Lucius was believed to be a follower of Voldemort's, didn't necessarily mean he was. Just because two men had been killed in their home didn't mean it was a Death Eater attack, or that Voldemort was involved, though it was likely he was.

Was it a good idea to go to this Christmas bash at the Malfoy Manor? A small part of Harry that lived deep down was screaming "no", but another side, the louder, harsher voice that prevailed in Harry's mind had only to whisper "yes" and he'd made his decision. It was the voice that so often reminded Harry of his own weaknesses, and told him how to fix them, that thought this was a good idea. It was the side that had grown restless since first year. The face inside that wanted to be in the middle of a little chaos.

sSsSs

Friday, on the last week of class before autumn term would end and see everyone off for Christmas, the Slytherin class waited with the Hufflepuffs for Professor Lupin. Harry sat anxious and irritated, wanting only to run away from this class. All day he'd heard tales of the awesome Professor Lupin and his practical lesson with the boggart. The students had all been excited and impressed with Lupin, a feeling Harry could not share. Not only did Harry hate being in the same room as Lupin, but he was also wary to meet his boggart. Who knew what would pop out of the wardrobe sitting so casually at the front of the room when Harry took his turn? He dreaded to find out.

Lupin talked them through the Riddikulus charm to repeal the creature, all gentle smiles and reassurances. Harry was not reassured. Harry was anything but reassured. This was not going to end well, he just knew it. After all, when could he ever remember laughing?

The lesson began, and soon a slew of 'normal' fears invaded the room. There had been a ghost, a jaguar, a vampire, even a giant grasshopper for one shaking Hufflepuff. Finally, unfortunately, it was Harry Potter's turn.

Many wise people have said that the only thing we truly have to fear is fear itself. What is fear, though? Is fear really just an emotional response to a threat, perceived or real? Or can fear be considered a real, tangible thing that exists outside of reality, but within the confines of the human mind? At one point in time, Harry did not care what fear was, just that it was real for him, there was no perception or deception. Threats have always been what his life was based on, but what about fear? Did he really become the boy he was today because of fear?

Before the boggart, Harry didn't know any of the answers. Now, he knew them all too well.

The boggart morphed, and became Harry's greatest fear for all the class to see. There stood a child, dark-haired and young, about seven years old. His shaggy mess of hair filled with dirt, his clothing far too large for his tiny body. He had eyes of dull green, large and framed in black and purple bruises. This child looked only at the teenage version of himself, his eyes longing, but dead. The child was holding his left arm, which was bent at an impossible angle at the elbow. The real Harry subconsciously mimicked his younger self, recalling the break and the pain it caused. The young Harry carried all of the old injuries caused by his tormentors, every broken bone, every bruise, every bleeding gash.

Harry didn't need to look to know blood was coated and dried on the boggart's back, having soaked through the baggy shirt.

You're still so weak.

Harry could hear the muttering of his classmates behind him, all talking and staring and pointing and uncaring.

You'll never be anything more than a broken child.

"Mr. Potter?"

Lupin's question was silenced under the never-ending torrent of voices. The noises washed over Harry, judging him. Hating him.

You'll never know love.

"Harry?"

You'll never be free.

"Harry?"

You always have been a freak…

No.

And you always will be a freak.

No!

"Harry!"

Lupin's shout stopped the world, breaking the silence that had permeated the classroom as the students watched Harry do nothing but stand and stare, wide-eyed, at his boggart. It was obvious the boggart was Harry as a child, all beaten up and half-dead. Harry turned to look at the teacher, his eyes matching the boggart's; dull green and lifeless.

Everyone in the room stood routed to their spots, silent and still, as they watched the savior of the wizarding world turn and stride from the room, cloak billowing and a face full of hatred worthy of any dark lord.

It was the first time Harry had ever shown a living human being what he really was.

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