Chapter Thirteen - Mind Magic
This year, Halloween fell on a Tuesday. Everyone was very excited for the feast. The Great Hall had looked grander, but only for the Yule Ball last year. Black and orange decorations were everywhere. Thousands of candles filled the air, not simply levitating sedately in place, but dancing silently to their own song.
In addition to the candles, there were also intricately carved pumpkins decorated with faces. At the Slytherin table, Harry recognized Professors Snape and Vector. He didn't know the bald man with prominent eyes who sported quite the enormous moustache or the witch with the large nose and small ears whose hair reached all the way around the gourd.
"It's Professor Horace Slughorn," Pansy said. "He used to be Potions Master and Head of Slytherin. He's a wonderful old friend of the family. He put Daddy in touch with some business contacts when he first left school. Daddy made a tidy pile of Galleons and showed Grandfather, my mother's father, that he had acumen. It helped smooth things out in their relationship, and Daddy never forgot that Professor Slughorn made it possible. He invites him to dinner quite often."
"Who's the witch?" Harry asked.
"Professor Rachel Moon. She's legendary for using one of the Potions laboratories to brew beer. She wasn't even Potions Mistress; she taught Herbology."
Giant pumpkins taller than a wizard in a hat were in the corners of the room. Perhaps Hagrid had brought them back with him, wherever he'd been. The Professor for Care of Magical Creatures had returned to them that very night. Just as they were all sitting down to eat, the double doors had been thrown open, sending a chill wind lacing through the Great Hall.
"Good evenin', everyone. Looks like I'm jest in time fer supper."
Dumbledore stood up. "Welcome back, Professor Hagrid. Please join us."
"Thank yeh, Professor Dumbledore."
"Oh no," Millie bemoaned under the sudden burst of chatter that filled the room. "There go our Magical Creatures lessons. I was learning so much!"
"Where do you think he's been?" Pansy wondered.
Draco caught Harry's eye and gave a slight shake of his head. Harry knew he shouldn't get too in-depth here in the Great Hall where anyone could overhear.
"I hope he's brought you back some interesting critters for you all," Harry said.
"Critters," Millie muttered. "Interesting. Hah! This is going to destroy my study schedule."
"I'll help you make a new one," Tracy said.
"Thanks. Blast Hagrid anyway."
The food was stupendous. Roast beef, pork chops, and baked chicken stuffed with garlic and other yummy things. Mountains of mashed potatoes, bowls of squash, and candied apples that smelled as good as they tasted.
"You know something?" Draco said. "We haven't played a good prank on Weasley since last year. He did look somewhat dashing in those Beauxbatons robes."
"That's true," Harry agreed. "Got something in mind?"
"Not yet. You?"
"Well, there was one thing I've been meaning to use on someone else. Remember when I got shut out of the common room last year?"
"Yeah, Theo's handiwork."
"I think I can recreate the effect."
"Really, Harry?" Daphne said. "None of us had a clue what he'd done."
"Professor Snape showed me the construction of the spell. If we want to have a prank on Weasley, let's lock him out of his own common room."
"Forget Weasley," Draco said. "What a prank on all of Gryffindor."
"Do you remember where their common room is?"
"I think so. It's been awhile since I thought about it."
Harry glanced down the table at the fourth years. Lucas, Arcen, and Jeremiah Goodwinter were sitting with Laine and Ginny. The two girls were giggling about something, and Arcen looked sheepish.
"Hey Laine, why don't you join us?"
"All right, Harry." She picked up her plate and sat between Harry and Draco.
"Ginny, it's not fair to take your best friend away from you," Draco said with his lazy drawl, "so you might as well join us too. You can have this seat next to me."
"Only if the one next to the security troll is taken."
"What security troll? Don't talk about Goyle like that."
Ginny rolled her eyes. "Sometimes it's too easy."
"I know there are some improvements to castle security, but I didn't know about any trolls. Are they out in the Forbidden Forest?"
"No, they're in the girls' loo like that one Quirrell let in first year," Harry couldn't help but say.
A flicker of distress crossed Ginny's face, but it was gone a moment later. "Pass the bread, Draco. Please."
"I wonder what sort of entertainment they have planned this year," Laine said.
"Anything's better than the side-show we had last year," Harry said.
"You would say that. I remind you, you did win."
"Thanks, it had slipped my mind."
Their questions were answered by Pamela Ruthven, the first year.
"Wand Smasher was going to play tonight," she said sadly. "I was keeping it a surprise, but Emma told me that they were cancelled at the last minute."
"By who?" Millie asked.
"Professor Umbridge."
"Umbridge cancelled the entertainment?"
"I guess so."
"It's probably a part of the stepped-up security arrangements," Tracy reasoned. "It's easier to not worry about evil-doers slipping into the school if you minimize the number of people you allow in."
"Emma was really looking forward to seeing you again, Harry," Pamela said. "She sends her best."
"Thanks. Maybe over the holiday we can work something out."
"Hopefully."
"It's not like you fifth years have time to have fun on the holiday. How's OWL year going?" Laine asked.
"Miserable," Draco answered. "Now I know why Elan was never around during our first year. Between double lessons, triple homework, Quidditch practice, and Youth Club, there's barely enough time to eat, never mind sleep. I'm glad I don't have a girlfriend, because I'd never be able to spend time with her."
"That's a lousy attitude, Draco," Daphne interjected. "Studying together would let you get work done and be a good boyfriend."
"But Draco isn't a good boyfriend," Pansy said matter-of-factly. "His priorities are out of order."
"Pansy, don't start."
"Don't boss me around, Draco. You'll only get into more trouble."
"Both of you lay off," Harry said. "I want to enjoy the feast, then we need to plan this prank."
"Prank?" Ginny, sister of the infamous Weasley twins, looked interested. "Do tell."
Harry briefly outlined the spell and what it would do.
"We need to find the Gryffindor common room."
"That's where I come in," Ginny realised.
"We'll go," Laine chimed in. "Won't we, Ginny?"
"Sure. I owe my brother a few for being such an unbearable lump over the summer."
"Let's go during dessert then."
A few of their fellow Slytherins raised eyebrows at the sight of Harry, Draco, Laine, and Ginny all leaving the Great Hall together. Arcen, Lucas, and Jeremiah all seemed rather disgusted. As soon as they left, the whispering started.
In the entrance hall, Harry turned to Ginny. "Lead the way."
The Fat Lady was entertaining several friends when the gang of Slytherins approached. She gave Ginny her full attention.
"I'm sorry, dear, but I can't let you in without the password."
"That's fine. Not why I'm here."
Harry took out his wand and began to trace the patterns that would build the barrier against sound.
"What are you doing?" the Fat Lady asked, sounding slightly alarmed.
"Nothing to worry about, dear," Ginny said brightly. "Just going to give you a bit of a breather. You might catch up on your beauty sleep."
"She needs it," Draco muttered.
"Not everyone is rich enough to invest in Glamour Charms, Draco."
"Now that's just uncalled for," he said indignantly. "I happen to be this handsome naturally."
"Lucky you," she said dryly.
"Hey now!"
Harry tried to tune them out. He wanted a barrier that would block sound in both directions. That was a bit trickier than one that was unidirectional. He made three tapping motions and twisted his wand to close off the spellform. It was done.
"How will we know if it worked?" Draco asked. "We can't test it, because we don't know the password."
"It worked. I'm not sticking around to watch."
"But that's half the fun."
"And double the chance of getting caught."
"Once they take down the spell, the Fat Lady will tell them it was us anyway."
"She won't know us. Only Ginny."
"If she knows her by name."
"She's the red-haired Gryffindor girl who turned to Slytherin. It won't be too hard for them to figure out it was Ginny."
"I didn't do anything," Ginny said instantly, looking extremely innocent. Harry couldn't believe how wide her brown eyes were.
"I believe her."
"In any case, let's get out of here. Fun's over. We have homework to do."
"Wasn't this your idea in the first place? Where's your sense of mischief, Draco?"
"I gave it the year off so as to study more effectively."
Pranking concluded, Harry and the Slytherins retired to the common room. They would just have to hear the stories on the Hogwarts grapevine. Several hours of homework passed, and Harry was able to catch up on his reading for Defence and Arithmancy as well as get his Charms essay finished. Satisfied with his academic efforts, Harry went to bed.
He was in a dark hallway, striding confidently in the flickering torchlight. He emerged into a cavernous room deep in the heart of his fortress. No sunlight ever entered here.
The prisoners had all been brought and chained to the floor at the neck. The chain was only a metre long, so they were forced to kneel. They were dripping wet. Some Death Eater must have been considering his Lord's delicate nose and blasted them with a jet of water. However, he had not considered his Lord's floor. At least it was stone.
He walked up to the dais where the implement of sacrifice was waiting for him on the stone altar. Rivulets of dried blood stained the sides and surface. He ran a hand over it almost lovingly. It had been a long time since he had properly celebrated this ritual. Tonight he would kill Mudbloods and blood traitors alike.
His Death Eaters were not permitted to know this rite. With a wave of his wand, the entrance to the room was sealed as the rock melted over. He was alone now with his guests.
"Welcome. You have the great honour to be with me tonight as I celebrate the holiday. Though you are Mudbloods and traitors, I have allowed you to be here. Such is the generosity of Lord Voldemort."
All of the prisoners shivered.
"Tonight we are going to purify you. Your magic will coalesce and burn away the Muggle taint. It will be beautiful."
He gestured with his wand, and the first prisoner's chain came loose from the floor. It detatched from his neck and wrapped around his wrists and ankles. With another gesture, he was lifted into the air and dropped roughly on the altar. The chains fastened to the stone, arching the man and exposing his torso.
He picked up the knife gently. He tested the edge with a quick slice across the sacrifice's arm. The man screamed.
"Silence," he commanded. "Is this how you face the next great adventure, Fortescue?"
The hour began to chime midnight. With a practised hand, he carved the runes in the pale flesh. He began to chant, and Fortescue began to scream as the runes glowed an evil, poisonous yellow. The very air began to glow, points of light hovering in the rune circle. He was thrashing now, and the light was nearly blinding.
He reached out his hands and cupped the ball gently. Bringing it reverently to his lips, he sipped. The light poured into his body, the whole globe going at once. The thrill, the rush, the intoxication.
When he came back to himself, the terrified whimpering of the other grated on his ears. It was a music more beautiful than a thousand shrieking daemons.
Fortescue still thrashed and moaned in his bonds on the altar. The trickles of blood from the runes carved into his chest had been burned away. The cuts were cauterized, and the symbols still glowed.
The euphoria of consuming the man's magic was fading. This one was of no more use. He raised the dagger high. The air whistled as he stabbed downward, the blade sinking into the heart.
Harry came awake with a horrified urge to vomit. His scar throbbed so much it felt like he was bleeding. He was so dizzy he couldn't even sit up.
Voldemort was murdering people. Sacrificing them. The old prison, so stained with human torment, had fresh blood soaking into its foundation.
His head felt like it was about to split open. He clapped his hands to his forehead, trying to hold his skull together. He fought back tears as all manner of vulgarity ran through his mind. The mental image of Voldemort actually being molested by a rabid tiger managed to elicit a chuckle, and the pain receded slightly.
He needed to tell someone what was going on. There was no more need to plan a rescue mission. The hostages taken in the raid on Diagon Alley would all be dead before much longer.
He reached up for the magic mirror that was stuck to his headboard.
"Sirius Black!"
"Harry Potter! Harry, what's wrong?"
"I had another one of those dreams, Sirius. I could see him; in his fortress. He was killing his prisoners. Fortescue is dead."
"Are you okay?"
"No, not really. He didn't just kill them. He did this weird ritual. I think he sucked out their magic and absorbed it."
"He's trying to increase his magical powers?"
"That's what it looked like. He didn't have any of the Death Eaters around."
"He wouldn't want to teach them how to grow powerful enough to challenge him, but back to you. It's your scar, right?"
"Yeah. Hurts like anything."
"Go to the hospital wing. I'm on my way."
Harry pushed away a stab of guilt. "No, I'll be okay. You don't have to come up in the middle of the night. I'm not injured."
Sirius looked very skeptical. "If you're sure."
"I am. Thanks, though. Can you make sure the word gets to the right people about the prisoners?"
"I'll see to it." Sirius yawned. "In the morning."
"In the morning?!"
"We still have no idea where the old prison is. I doubt that suddenly needing to prevent murder will miraculously let us figure it out. It's not that I'm callous, but there's nothing to be done."
"I suppose."
"You get up and see Madam Pomfrey. Wake up Draco and have him make sure you get there."
"He'll hate being woken up."
"That's the whole point."
"Good night, Sirius."
"Take care, Harry."
Harry pulled on last night's trousers and shoved his feet in his slippers. He went over to Draco's bed and tried to pull back the curtain. It wouldn't budge. Stupid protective enchantments.
Harry raised his wand and spent a very annoyed fifteen minutes trying to break through his best mate's defences. He had no success. Dimly, randomly, he recalled that Ginny's older brother Bill was a curse-breaker. Maybe a conversation with him would be in order.
Giving up his attempts as a bad job, Harry considered the closed curtains of Crabbe and Goyle's beds. He'd never wake either of them up. He pulled on a robe and his cloak and headed out on his own. The trip up to the hospital wing was quiet, and he pushed open the door to see an empty desk.
Having seldom been here when someone else wasn't summoning Madam Pomfrey, he was at first uncertain what to do. There was no bell to ring for service. He was just about to leave when Madam came bustling in.
"Good evening, Mister Potter." Despite the late hour, Madam seemed as chipper and cheery as ever. "What brings you here?
"Bad dreams. Really bad. My scar hurts too."
"Hmmm. Well, let's have a look at you then. Have a seat."
Madam cast several spells on him, and several times various parts of his body glowed different colours.
"Well, there's nothing wrong with you physically, but your auras are six different ways of messy. I'd like to keep you for observation."
Resigned, for Madam never let anyone go whom she didn't have to, Harry reached for the hospital-issue pyjamas with a great sigh.
"No potions, Mister Potter. I'm going to be monitoring your sleep, though, so there's nothing to worry about."
"Yes, ma'am."
Why couldn't she have given him a potion? Harry tried not to let it bother him. Sleeping potions, and the dreamless sleep especially, could be very addictive. Madam was just being cautious. Harry did take it a fair amount.
Harry had been laying there for perhaps ten minutes, trying to get back to sleep, when the door to the hospital wing opened and Sirius walked in.
"Sirius! What are you doing here?"
"I couldn't sleep. I figured I might as well come check on you."
"I said you didn't have to."
"That's the funny thing about being a parent," Sirius said. "You do things even when you don't have to. You do them because you want to."
Despite himself, Harry was really happy to see his godfather. "Thanks."
"Don't mention it. How do you feel?"
"Head still throbs a bit. It's getting better."
"I'm glad. Don't worry about a thing. I'm right here."
Secure in that knowledge, Harry pulled the covers up to his chin, pleased now that Madam hadn't given him any potions. They would have put him right out, and he would missed Sirius' arrival. He was fast asleep in moments, his dreams untroubled.
Wednesday morning came too soon. Harry's head was thick enough to dull a sword, despite not taking any potions. Sirius was gone, perhaps to the loo. Harry waited impatiently for Madam Pomfrey to come release him. Surely he'd feel better if he ate some breakfast.
"Well, Mister Potter, there was nothing out of the ordinary last night. I had the elves launder the clothes you came in, but you'll need to go down to your dormitory for your books."
"Where's Sirius?"
"He slept in that chair there until about dawn, then he went to go see the headmaster. Would you prefer breakfast here or in the Great Hall?"
"Here, please." Harry was hungry, and eating in the hospital wing was faster than going down to the house table. He was only slightly disappointed that Sirius wasn't there. He hadn't expected him to come at all.
After a light breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast, and a glass of orange juice, Harry did feel much better. If he were going to go to his Charms class, he would need his books. Harry dressed himself and headed down to the dungeons. In the common room, he saw the concerned expressions of his friends and knew he would have to explain.
"Hospital wing," he said, speaking first. "Went for a headache, and Madam wouldn't let me out. Said I wasn't eating right and went on about how important nutrition is, especially during the OWL year."
"Feeling better?" Tracy asked.
"Much. Are we ready for Charms?"
Harry did his best to take good notes, but Professor Flitwick was not ready for the students to try casting the spell, so it was lots and lots of lecture, and Harry was yawning by the end of class.
All through lunch, Pansy and Draco were sniping at each other. He tuned them out with a meditation he'd learned in his Animagus training. The din of the Great Hall receded, and he was able to find a small moment of peace.
In Transfiguration, Harry tried to pay attention to old McGonagall. Honestly, he really did, but he kept zoning off and staring into space.
"Mister Potter?"
Oh hell.
"Sorry, Professor, what?"
"Do you have somewhere better to be, Mister Potter?"
"No, Professor. I just didn't sleep so well last night."
"Well if you've quite woken up, perhaps you could please attempt today's lesson? Vanish the pig."
Was that all? Harry picked up his wand and waved it lazily at the pig in front of him. It disappeared instantly, all at once. Draco, Pansy, and Daphne all began to applaud.
"Ten points to Slytherin, Mister Potter." McGonagall was again giving him the oddest of looks. "Do try to pay attention. Perhaps even mention some points from my lecture in your essays. Two feet, everyone, on Linus Lovewell and his development of the wand motion that accompanies a Vanishing Spell."
Their last class, Astronomy, was a struggle as well, and by the end of the day's lessons, Harry was knackered. He didn't really feel up to the Youth Club meeting and decided to turn in after dinner.
Harry hadn't told anyone, even Draco, about his recent rash of horrid dreams. The normal nightmares, the ones about the night his parents had been murdered, that caused Harry to wake up screaming, those Draco and everyone else was used to. Certain steps had been taken so that he wouldn't disturb the slumber of his fellow Slytherins. Harry was just as keen that no one be bothered by this new development. He reinforced the Silencing Charms on his bed and skipped the night Astronomy lesson too.
The next morning, Harry didn't feel like he'd had an excess of sleep. He hauled himself blearily to the shower and griped about Ancient Runes.
"Why'd I sign up for this stupid class in the first place? It's memorizing the alphabet. Three years now, three different alphabets."
"The fun stuff comes next year," Draco replied.
"No it doesn't. It's just more of the same, only with Hebrew."
"Yeah, but we'll be doing more advanced structures. You know, this isn't like you, Harry. You usually enjoy Ancient Runes. What's going on?"
"I'm not really feeling like myself."
"You should at least try to go to class. If you feel awful, you can be that much closer to the hospital wing."
That made a twisted sort of logical sense, so Harry groaned and pulled himself to his feet. He picked up his bag, which seemed to be filled with bricks, and headed off with Draco to the common room where the other Slytherins were waiting.
Harry plastered on a smile as big as Gildeory Lockhart's and as fake as his resume as they went up into the castle and made their way to Professor Babbling's classroom. It didn't take long before all the runes began to blend together. They were still rote-learning the basic Celtic alphabet, and Harry couldn't tell triskelion from triquetra. It was all Greek to him.
Harry ate everything in sight at lunch. Maybe his lethargy was due to a growth spurt. Daphne teased him about his girlish figure, and he even had the wit to banter back with her.
After a headache-inducing bout of double Arithmancy, Harry headed to the Potions classroom with a sigh of relief. Here was a chance to centre himself, to focus on the simple task of brewing.
Yet fortune was not smiling on him today. For the first time ever in his career as a student of Potions, Harry bunked it. Fantastically so. He added two level tablespoons of powdered unicorn horn and yelped with surprise as the mixture turned bright blue and began to boil over.
He backed away quickly, trying not to get any of the hot liquid on him. Thankfully his bag was placed safely in the storage cupboard under the bench, but he watched his finely sliced lizard spleens dissolve into a glob of yuck. It had taken him nearly ten minutes to prepare them!
"Mister Potter! What happened?"
"Weasley threw something at me just as I was adding my next ingredient. I don't know what it was, but it fell in my cauldron, and the next thing I knew-"
"That's a lie!" Weasley shouted. He had been watching gleefully at the disaster caused by a Slytherin.
"Thought it would make you look good if one of the best students in class messed up, Weasley?"
"You screwed up your own potion, Potter! I had nothing to do with it! I was in the middle of slicing my lizard spleens-"
"Weasley, be silent. Five points for sabotaging a fellow student, and ten points for creating a safety hazard in my laboratory."
"But I didn't do anything!"
Professor Snape cleaned up the spilled potion with a quick 'Evanesco'. "Half marks, Mister Potter. You were doing quite well last time I checked on you."
Harry wasn't about to argue.
"Thank you, sir."
"If you wish full marks, brew it in your own time. For progressing to the next stage, you may take an aliquot from Mister Malfoy."
Given how Draco was falling behind on his reading for Potions, that might be a mixed blessing.
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."
Harry tidied his workspace and waited patiently for the end of class. Weasley turned in his potion with a dark glare at Harry and bolted from the room. Harry sighed, knowing that the unsubtle Gryffindor was setting up an ambush in the corridor. It was honestly so predictable as to be laughable.
"Well, let's go spring his trap."
Harry had his wand at the ready to deflect Weasley's curse, but he was unprepared to be struck by Weasley's fist as soon as he stepped out. He took a punch to the jaw that sent him reeling. He fell to the ground, and his wand clattered away. Weasley fell with him, still hitting him in the face.
He lay there dazed while Crabbe and Goyle hauled Weasley off and began pummeling him. They were hit with magic from Thomas and Finnigan, and the whole situation seemed about to degenerate into a full-fledged battle when Professor Snape immobilized the lot of them.
"Thomas, Finnigan, use of magic in the corridors is forbidden. Ten points each. Weasley, how dare you attack another student like this? And a prefect, no less? Twenty points from Gryffindor, and detention. Tomorrow night."
"But sir! Tomorrow's the last Quidditch practice before the match!"
"Is it?" Snape asked carelessly. "I was not aware. Nevertheless, you will report to the classroom following the dinner hour. I have much work that needs to be done. Now begone."
Weasley glared at the Slytherins as he stalked off. "This is all your fault, Potter."
"Stuff yourself, Weasley."
"Mister Potter, get yourself to Madam Pomfrey. Your eye is blackening quite splendidly. You're also bleeding from the nose. Mister Malfoy, Mister Goyle, and Miss Bulstrode will accompany you."
Snape departed, leaving the Slytherins to take Harry up to the hospital wing.
Zabini tapped Harry on the shoulder. "I happened to glance up right before your cauldron blew up, Hair. Weasley was nowhere near you. Why'd you say he threw something in your potion? What's he ever done to you? I haven't seen him do anything so far. You lot, on the other hand, curse his name hourly and try to frame him."
Harry and Draco glanced at each other. Where did they possibly start explaining Weasley?
"You're new here, so you haven't been around the past four years. You haven't heard Weasley's accusations firsthand. He's been right busy with his studies this year, but he's generally a lot more unbearable. He feels it necessary to tell anyone he can find what a bunch of Dark and evil wizards we are. He's got no proof, just a loud mouth."
Harry would have discussed it more, but his head was throbbing where Weasley had hit him. At least now he had an excuse to be laid up. Draco offered to sit with him and do homework, but that idea was so unappealing that Harry actually shuddered.
"No, I'll try and get some rest if I can. Maybe now she'll knock me out."
"Back again, Mister Potter? What have you done to yourself now?"
"I was bored."
Madam Pomfrey did not render Harry unconscious, much to his regret. He told her about his continued trouble sleeping, and she reluctantly gave him a potion. Not Dreamless Sleep, but at least it was something. Most of his injuries were starting to fade by the time he drifted off.
He slept, finally, that Thursday night, but it was not restful sleep. Madam Pomfrey seemed annoyed that he had not responded well to her treatment. His injuries were healed. If not for her assurances that there was nothing physically wrong with him, he would have suspected an oncoming cold.
He was starting to worry about the weekend Quidditch match against Gryffindor. He skipped all his classes on Friday, laying in bed with the curtains drawn. He needed to be able to function for tomorrow's match. Through sheer force of will, he did not take any potion. It took him nearly two hours to fall asleep, but the long stretch of time, his mind satisfied by his decision to just write off the whole week, was uninterrupted.
It was time for the match.
Harry woke early on Saturday and went up to breakfast with the team. He didn't feel great, but he didn't feel like he was ready to collapse either. He was even able to laugh and joke with the team, making outrageous boasts about how many points were going to be scored and how spectacularly Gryffindor's new Keeper would fail. Wood had finished school the year before, and with no Quidditch last year, Harry had no idea who the new Keeper would be, but Slytherin's Chasers were outstanding.
When they left the Great Hall and made their way to the changing rooms, Harry felt like he might actually be able to play. There was something about the fresh morning air and the good mood of the student body. It just seemed like a good day for Quidditch, and Harry was determined to not let his team down.
Not that Laine would be a bad substitute. Panning was hopeless, and Laine would beat her to the snitch easily.
They lined up in the tunnel, ready to take to the skies.
"Ready, everyone?"
"Up Slytherin!"
"Introducing first, the Slytherin team! Bletchley! Crabbe! Goyle! Montague! Potter! Pucey! Aaaand Warrington!"
The silver and green flyers shot out of the tunnel and sped a lap around the stands as fast as they could. Bletchley gave the signal, and they all released the pouch of magic dust they were carrying. It streaked along in their wake, leaving four green stripes and three silver. It was pretty enough, but then the lines began forming words.
Slytherin! Up Slytherin! Greatest Quidditch tradition in Hogwarts' history!
Cheers rose from Slytherin and their supporters. Jeers and boos were all the greeting they got from Gryffindor.
"And now, the Gryffindor team! Bell! Frobisher! Johnson! McClaggan! Sheridan! Spinnet! Aaaaand Weasley!"
"What?" Harry knew he must have heard wrong, but sure enough, Ron Weasley came flying out of the gate on his prototype Cleansweep, wearing red and gold Quidditch robes. His ragged, unkept hair whipped around his head. He didn't carry a Beater's bat, and he made a beeline for Harry.
"You look surprised, Potter!"
"I thought Johnson had better sense! I can't wait to see the lads score on you."
"They'll have a tough time doing that, considering I'm not playing Keeper."
"You can't seriously be playing Seeker."
"Did you hear Panning's name called?"
"I just assumed the other new fellow was it. You haven't got a chance against me."
"This Cleansweep Eleven is worlds better than that old Firebolt! Doesn't even compare! I'm going to plough you into the ground and soar off with the snitch. I owe you one for Thursday in Potions."
"Not holding a grudge, I hope, Weasley? You did hit me rather in the face."
"Best. Feeling. Ever."
There was no more time for words. Madam Hooch was calling the teams down to the ground. Bletchley motioned to Harry to step forward as well when the captains moved in for their final instructions.
"Ready to get annihilated, Johnson?"
"Not a bit. You're going to rue the day you flew against the Gryffindor Triplets."
"I'll block your every shot."
"I'll fool you every time."
"Fool or foul?"
"Enough. I want a nice clean match up there. I'll be watching closely, and I just learned a new vision magnification charm I've been itching to try out. Understand?"
The captains nodded their heads. Harry did as well.
"Then get in the sky. Mount!"
They all kicked off into the air, the Chasers looping and circling the centre of the pitch.
"I'm releasing the snitch!"
"Johnson takes first possession!"
The match was on.
Gryffindor's new Keeper wasn't fantastic. He wasn't half bad either. Slytherin's score slowly crept ahead. In a few more minutes, it wouldn't matter if Weasley caught the snitch. Harry might even stop looking and go catch a nap, letting the match go on without him. Did he really have to catch every snitch?
Yes, and there it was.
Harry zoomed off. Weasley, who was closer to it, saw Harry's intent and also leaned over his broom handle. They were neck and neck. Harry could smell the bacon Weasley had eaten at breakfast. The Firebolt, always phenomenal in these situations, slowly inched ahead.
Kill!
Harry's arm spasmed, and he veered off-path, losing his lead. White-hot iron was pressing against his forehead, burning right at his scar. He shrieked and clutched both hands to his head. He collapsed across the broom handle, and the Firebolt carried him quickly down, down, into the ground.
As his body bounced along the grass of the pitch, Harry had already lost consciousness. Mercifully, he did not feel when his arm was twisted in ways never intended by God and his legs were folded like a pair of trousers.
The world came upon Harry blearily. He could barely see, and that only fuzzily. His glasses were missing, but it was also dark. The stiffness of the starched sheets told him exactly where he was.
Madam Pomfrey could work miracles, but even her cures took some time. He didn't hurt anywhere except in his scar. Even that pain had dulled to faint ache. He tested his arms and legs carefully, remembering that he had been flying when he blacked out. A fall from such a height and at such speed would have done some damage.
He could hear faint voices, and he knew people were close by. Sirius would be here. He reached to the bedside table for his glasses. His groping hand nearly knocked them to the floor, but he clutched them triumphantly and put them on.
With the world back into focus, he pressed his hands to the mattress, intending to sit up. The head rush that accompanied this act nearly made him swoon, but he sucked in a deep breath of air, trying to maintain control. The room, which had for a moment seemed far away down a long tunnel, gradually resumed its proximity. When it seemed he might not faint, he thought twice about standing up. Deciding against it, he listened to the voices, trying to make out who was there.
"Don't give me that garbage, Snape. Harry doesn't fall off his broom. Not even Quirrell's jinxing could buck him."
"I was casting the counter-jinx."
"Why not just kick Quirrell in the face?"
"So uncivilized."
"Sirius, Severus, please calm yourselves." That was Dumbledore. "Sirius, all we know is that Harry fell from his broom and landed rather solidly. Anything further will have to wait for Harry to wake up and tell us."
"I know exactly what happened," Sirius said furiously. "He had another one of those visions, only it wasn't in his dreams. This is the third one, Dumbledore! I told you about this the summer Voldemort returned. Then last week he had another. Sure enough, the bodies of the captives were found the next day. When are you going to start taking things seriously?"
"Believe me, I am. I agree that it most likely was another vision, but before jumping to conclusions about a new phenomenon, I wish to question Harry about what he experienced."
"What do you think it means?"
"I dare not suppose, for to air incorrect speculation would be to close our minds to possibility."
"Enough with the secrets, Dumbledore. This is my godson we're talking about. I'll do everything to keep him safe."
"You know of the prophecy, Sirius. There is a connection between Harry and Voldemort, and I suspect it is more than we imagined. For years now, Harry's scar has been sensitive to his movements. Now we learn that there may be a mental bond as well. Troubling. Most troubling."
"Well what do we intend to do about it?"
"Do? Do? Who says there is anything to be done? I suspect the link will only be broken when the prophecy is fulfilled."
"What can we do in the meantime?"
"Harry must learn to shield his mind. The link cannot be broken, but it can be blocked. I suggest he begin studying Occlumency as soon as possible. Severus has volunteered to teach him."
"Snape?"
"I am a Master Occlumens," Snape said silkily. "I also have some small skill at Legilimancy, and Harry is one of my Slytherins. The matter was never open to question. We take care of our own."
"Of course you do."
"If Harry can protect his mind from assault, then perhaps I will allow him to attend Order meetings next summer. Give him a goal to work towards."
"We will begin tomorrow, if he wakes up."
Harry had heard enough. "Hello? Who's there?"
"Harry!" Sirius came rushing to his bedside. "You're awake!"
"Hey, Sirius. How are you?"
"You're pretty funny for a guy who had four broken limbs. Looks like Madam put you right."
"I feel fine. Just a little weak."
Sirius filled Harry in on the details of his injuries. Honestly, Harry was surprised he hadn't been worse off. The memory of the pain was very vivid, and he was sure it was what dying felt like.
"So what happened to you, Harry?"
"It was another vision. Voldemort was torturing people. More of the prisoners from Diagon Alley, I think."
"I wonder if we're going to get another special delivery," Sirius said.
"Probably. I'm getting worried, Sirius. That's two visions in a week. What if I have one during class?"
"We're going to take care of this. There's a branch of magic called Occlumency, and it lets you defend your mind from magical intrusion. Professor Dumbledore thinks it would be advisable for you to study Occlumency, and I agree with him. Even if it doesn't solve the problem, it's still a skill worth learning."
"Who's going to teach me?"
"Snape. He's damned good at it."
"Snape is good at everything."
"Hah hah. Now that you're awake, you'll have your first lesson tomorrow after dinner."
"Is Dumbledore going to ask me what happened?"
"No, he asked me to fill him in. He went back to his office. Snape is here, though."
"Good evening, Mister Potter. You look none the worse for wear."
"Thank you, sir."
"I feel obliged to forewarn you: Captain Bletchley is very unhappy that you did not catch the snitch."
The match!
"Sir, what happened in the match?"
"Slytherin made a valiant effort, but the score was two hundred to eighty when Weasley caught the snitch. Gryffindor won, two-thirty to two hundred."
Harry wanted to be sick. Slytherin hadn't lost to Gryffindor in years. They would have to win against Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw and hope that either of them were able to beat Gryffindor, and then they would have to have more points overall.
"Thank you, sir. I guess I'd better go get it over with."
"Take care, Harry. I'm only a shout away."
"I know, Sirius. Thanks." He gave his godfather a big hug.
Professor Snape walked him down to Slytherin common room. Before Harry said the password, Snape touched his shoulder.
"Say nothing about the true nature of your accident."
"Yes, sir."
"Report to my office tomorrow night after dinner. I suggest you read up on Occlumency."
"Yes, sir."
Harry spoke the password and entered the common room.
While everyone was glad to see that he was okay, Harry could see that they all wanted to know what had happened.
"Weasley fouled me. Madam Hooch didn't see it, but he punched me in the groin. I couldn't see straight, and down I went."
"That weasel!" Draco spat. "We'll fix him."
"Too right, we will," Bletchley agreed. "Next time, wear a cup."
The Triwizard Cup looked spectacular on the shelf in Professor Snape's office. It sat next to the House Cup and the Quidditch Cup. With their recent loss to Gryffindor, it might be that the trio of trophies wouldn't be together next year.
"Mister Potter, please sit down. Is everything well?"
"All except the match, sir."
"Yes, well, that is to be expected. We haven't had a loss in quite some time. I suppose it was bound to happen sooner or later. Just don't make it a habit. I have grown accustomed to the sight of those awards. I would sorely miss them. Rest assured, you will be Captain next year. It will be your responsibility."
"Yes, sir."
"How do you find being a prefect? You've had some time to settle into the role by now."
"Everything's great, sir. Meetings are usually boring, but I guess they are important. I'm actually a lot more excited about the team."
"How does the Youth Club go? I have heard diverse opinion on the subject."
"It's pretty good, sir. Umbridge is trying to figure out how rotten we all are, so she's got those few of us who are worth anything helping her hex the lot of 'em."
"An efficient tactic," Snape noted. "Not having too much fun, are we?"
"Not too much fun, sir."
"Good. The club is a necessary group, strictly volunteer, where those who wish can improve their skills. I have more concern with her lectures, where she has a captive audience. The Ministry has chosen to interfere at Hogwarts with great public support. You are being told many things. Some are true. Some are exaggerations or over-simplifications. A few are outright lies. You must not stop thinking for yourselves. Many, I am sad to predict, will."
"I'll keep that in mind, sir."
"Good. You are here tonight to begin instruction in the art of Occlumency. Do you know what it is?"
"It's shielding your thoughts, sir. It seals the mind against magical intrusion and influence, from someone using the art of Legilimency." Even without Professor Snape's admonition to study up, Harry knew the man's penchant for questions and had made sure to learn as much as he could about the subject. The Head of Slytherin had little sufferance for fools and time-wasters.
"Very good, Mister Potter. The Dark Lord is highly skilled at Legilimency, which lets one see into another's mind and extract feelings and memories. This can be useful in many ways. The Dark Lord, for instance, almost always knows when somebody is lying to him. Only those skilled at Occlumency are able to shut down those feelings and memories that contradict the lie, and so can utter falsehoods in his presence without detection."
It seemed pretty complicated, but Snape sounded like he knew what he was talking about. Snape surely was a master of Occlumency if he could lie to Voldemort. It was this skill, Harry realized, that allowed him to be a spy.
"That's why Voldemort believes you're loyal to him."
"Do not speak his name here, Mister Potter," Snape said swiftly. "It would draw his attention, and that would hardly be productive."
Harry tried not to wince. "Yes, sir. So he can't tell you're lying to him?"
"He cannot, and neither does he know I am using Occlumency at all. Therein lies true mastery. You will not need to achieve quite that level of skill, but you must be able to keep your mind closed to him.
"Could he know what we're thinking right now, sir?"
"The Dark Lord is at a considerable distance and the walls and grounds of Hogwarts are guarded by many ancient spells and charms to ensure the bodily and mental safety of those who dwell within them," said Snape. "Time and space matter in magic, Mister Potter. Eye contact is often essential to Legilimency."
"When is it that I'm going to be eye to eye with him again?" Harry couldn't help but ask cheekily.
Snape eyed Harry, tracing his mouth with one long, thin finger as he did so.
"Given that it has already happened once, we must expect that it can happen again, no matter how well-laid our plans. Not only that, but the usual rules do not seem to apply with you, Mister Potter. The curse that failed to kill you seems to have forged some kind of connection between you and the Dark Lord. The evidence suggests that at times when your mind is most relaxed and vulnerable – when you are asleep, for instance - you are sharing the Dark Lord's thoughts and emotions. Furthermore, strong emotion on the part of the Dark Lord can flood your mind. The Headmaster thinks it inadvisable for this to continue. He wishes me to teach you how to close your mind to the Dark Lord."
Harry's heart was pumping fast again. He could see into Voldemort's mind? There had to be a way to use that against him.
"But sir-"
"Do not even think of it, Mister Potter! The first step is to protect yourself. Later, if you prove sufficiently adept at the magic, we may consider attempting to break into the Dark Lord's mind, but things would most certainly have to be desperate to contemplate such drastic action. His mind is a powerful weapon, one that we must teach you to defend against. As he is now aware that you are gaining access to his thoughts and feelings -"
"Has he, sir?"
"It is the only reason we can think of for there to be two instances in such a short span of time. We must assume the worst. If he becomes aware of the link and deduces that the process is likely to work in reverse –"
"He might try and peer into my mind? Could he do more than that, sir? Could he make me do things?" asked Harry nervously. He didn't want Voldemort poking around inside his memories. He didn't even like recalling those memories himself.
"He might," said Snape. "Which brings us back to the reason for tonight's lesson."
Professor Snape pulled out his wand from an inside pocket of his robes and faced Harry with his wand held at the ready.
"Stand up and take out your wand, Mister Potter."
Harry got to his feet, feeling a mix of anxiety and eagerness. He had no idea what to expect. Student and teacher faced each other with the desk between them.
"You may use your wand to attempt to disarm me, or defend yourself in any other way you can think of," said Professor Snape.
"What are you going to do?" Harry asked, eyeing Snape's wand apprehensively.
"I am about to attempt to break into your mind," said Professor Snape softly. "We are going to see how well you resist."
Already? Wasn't this moving just a little bit fast?
"You have already shown aptitude at resisting the Imperius Curse. You will find that similar powers are needed for this."
"In what way, sir?" asked Harry, desperate to understand what he had to do.
"There is no way to describe it. Nothing can prepare you. Just as there was no warning with the Imperius, so there is no warning with this mental assault. Close your eyes. Clear your mind. Let go of all emotion. Brace yourself, now. Legilimens!"
Snape had struck before Harry was ready, before he had even begun to summon any force of resistance. The office swam in front of his eyes and vanished; image after image was racing through his mind like a flickering film so vivid it blinded him to his surroundings.
He was five, watching Dudley riding a new red bicycle, and his heart was bursting with jealousy; he was nine, and Ripper the bulldog was chasing him up a tree and the Dursleys and Aunt Marge were laughing below on the lawn as he seethed in terrified fury at them from the safety of the branches; he was sitting under the Sorting Hat, and it was telling him he would do well in Slytherin; his first Quidditch match; facing the giant basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets; hugging his godfather for the first time; the warm feel of Tracy's lips as they shared their first kiss.
"No," Harry said, though the words were only in his thoughts. "That's private. No. Get out. Get out!"
He felt a tingling pain in his arm. He was back in Snape's office, and he'd fallen to the floor, cracking his funny bone on the way down. He stood up and looked at Snape, who had lowered his wand and was rubbing his wrist. There was an angry weal there, like a scorch mark.
"Did you mean to produce a Stinging Hex?" asked Snape coolly.
"I didn't even know I'd cast a spell."
"I thought not," said Snape, watching him closely. "You let me get in too far. You lost control."
"Did you see everything I saw?" Harry asked, unsure whether he wanted to hear the answer.
"Flashes of it," said Snape. "For a first attempt that was not as poor as it might have been. You managed to stop me eventually, though you wasted time and energy shouting. You must remain focused. Repel me with your brain and you will not need to resort to your wand."
With his mind. Mental discipline. "Yes, sir."
"Let's go again, on the count of three. One – two – three – Legilimens!"
A great red dragon was rearing in front of him; his father and mother were waving at him out of an enchanted mirror; his godfather was welcoming him home; he was breaking up with Padma, shouting at her and her sister.
"No!"
Harry was on his knees again, his face buried in his hands, his brain aching as though someone had been trying to pull it from his skull.
"Get up!" said Professor Snape sharply. "Always with the ladies, Mister Potter? In only two excursions into your mind, I now know one of your weak points. Future attempts will be only easier now, should I focus my probe on those thoughts. You must make at least some effort."
"I am making an effort," he said.
"I told you to empty yourself of emotion!"
"Yeah? Well, I'm confused as all hell about girls! I can't help but feel emotion about them."
"Then you will find yourself easy prey for the Dark Lord!" said Snape unsympathetically. "He will use violence or the threat of it against those whom you form emotional attachments to. Do not give him this knowledge. Knowledge is power. Don't be weak."
"I am not weak."
"Then prove it! Master yourself!" Snape commanded. "Control your emotions, discipline your mind!"
"Wait!"
"What is it, Mister Potter?"
"Give me a moment. I need to think. Clear my mind of emotion. Okay. Okay."
Harry took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He closed his eyes briefly. Just as in his Animagus meditations, he quieted his thoughts. He opened his eyes again and looked right at Snape.
"I'm ready, Professor."
"Legilimens!"
Harry felt the pressure of the magic against his mind. He tried to guide it to thoughts he attached no emotion to. He thought about his History of Magic essay that was due next week; no, he was anxious about that.
There was a flash, and suddenly he was riding the Hogwarts Express for the first time. He couldn't contain his excitement. He tried to guide the memory to something he didn't have emotion for. He thought about the wheels on the train and how utterly boring and mundane they were. They went round and round, and that long bar went in loops, but that was about it.
Unbidden, he was kissing Laine under the mistletoe.
"Gah!" Harry cried, waving his wand and again not knowing what he cast.
"Very well, Mister Potter, I can see that there is no helping it. You need to figure out the ladies and soon, or your mind will be completely open for the Dark Lord's perusal. I believe that is enough for tonight. I want you back here same time on Wednesday. We will continue our work then."
"Yes, sir. Good night, sir." Harry felt so drained from this, he just wanted to go right to sleep.
"You are to rid your mind of all emotion every night before sleep; empty it, make it blank and calm, you understand?"
"Yes," said Harry.
"You did better towards the end tonight. You seem to understand about the emotion. So long as the memories do not provoke strong reaction, the Legilimancer will not be able to see them and your mind will be, in so many words, a blank slate."
"Yes, sir."
"Good night, Mister Potter."
Harry left Snape's office feeling entirely drained. Going through one assault on his mind after another was exhausting. His defences had been feeble at best. Snape had dredged up a lot of things, particularly about the Dursleys, that he would rather nobody know about. Sirius knew a lot, but not everything. Some things Harry would rather just forget entirely, like the incident with Vernon's car.
Many people were still awake in the common room, but he waved off all invitations and went directly to his dormitory. All he wanted to do was sleep, but he would have to do Snape's mind clearing thing. After pulling his curtains shut, he stuck his glasses and wand to the headboard and sat in the middle of his bed.
Empty his mind. Calm and blank. A freshly washed slate of perfect smoothness. Rid himself of all emotion. Harry thought it sounded a bit like the meditations he'd done during his Animagus training. He'd had to still his mind and look into his soul. While he had found the animal within, surely he could still let thought go.
He breathed in a deep lungful of air. He slowly let it out and let all his troublesome thoughts go with it. He put aside the reason he was even going through this exercise, Voldemort, and focused on only the doing. Inhale. Slowly exhale, and all bothers expelled as well.