Occupy Your Mind, Villagers

Our bodies are dancing
Divisions all die
Eye of the beholder
Beholding the eye
And in this infinite space, dear
I can hardly feel time
And I just want to occupy your mind

Harry had no other choice than to play dumb with Hermione. She didn't say anything to him about his sneaking out, though her lips were tightly pursed throughout the day. She recast the tracking spell sometime in the morning, the thing finding it during one of its regular sweeps. They left it there, again with no real option. She had gone to the headmaster, at lunchtime, saying that she felt nauseous and wanted to see Madam Pomfrey. Harry had taken out the map under the table and watched her head straight for Dumbledore's office. He wondered what she was going to say to him this time, wishing he was a fly on the wall.

'Three guesses,' the voice said.

He still hadn't seen much more than Ginny's retreating back since he'd confronted Ron about the cloak, and he was slowly building resentment about it. Her actions were baffling him. The thing in his head kept pushing him to seek her out, seemingly as curious about the Weasleys as he was, since it had seen the weirdness in Ron's head. He was still undecided, but he'd watched her movements on the map with the same regularity that he watched Hermione.

He was watching her that night, on the map from his bed. She was sneaking through the halls back towards the Common Room at nearly one in the morning. He'd watched her go off the edge of the map in the Forbidden Forest, which explained why she was vanishing from the paper, but it only raised more questions. Had she and Ron taken the cloak to the forest? Why? As she was close to the portrait hole, he decided enough was enough and jogged down the stairs, sitting down and pretending he'd been there for hours when she came through, locking wide eyes with his.

"You know, when I go missing for the night, it's all battle stations," he began as she sheepishly closed the frame, "You slink about for a week and no one bats an eye. That must be nice."

She stiffly came to sit, avoiding looking at him. "I've been…"

"Ginny," he bit out, and she met his eyes.

The thing in his head needed no permission as it forced its way into Ginny's mind. Where it bounced off with a nearly audible crack. All at once she was standing, looking at him as though he'd slapped her, then sprinting up the stairs to her dormitory while Harry watched her, stunned into silence.

'That was Occlumency,' the voice supplied.

'Yes, thank you.' Harry snapped.

"Don't be silly, Cass, you know the Slytherin couldn't bear to be seen with us. In public!" The seventh-year Ravenclaw clasped his forehead in faux shock.

Cassiopeia had insisted that Harry socialize with someone other than her or his housemates, and he'd begrudgingly agreed. To make her happy. He thought the Ravenclaw was too dramatic, and he stared too often. Too intensely. Harry tore his eyes away from him then, pleading with Cassiopeia with his face. She smirked before she looked at the Ravenclaw.

"You know, Alicent, the Room of Requirement… Fills any requirement? Say if we wanted to get really, really, really drunk… The room would provide the means," she told him, standing, pacing, "Even while we're already inside," she finished, as a tray appeared on the table in front of them, a set of glasses with two bottles of… something.

Harry shot her another warning look, but she was dancing rings around the dark-haired Ravenclaw while he grinned at her. She was pouring him a glass, then herself, avoiding Harry save to pass him a drink, not looking at his face. Wine. He sniffed it, then sipped it, frowning at her though she was still pretending he wasn't in the room.

When he woke the thing in his head was, in Harry's opinion, disproportionately panicked by the dream, hissing, and spitting as he downed two Calming Draughts. It was quiet as he got up, sulking in the far corners of his mind. it was still dark in the room, but the first hints of the dull, silverly dawn were showing through the windows. He could feel its anger clearly, but there was something else, fleeting. It was trying to hide it, snapping at him when he came close to the emotion. Harry frowned, confused, but left it. He'd learned curiosity was seldom rewarded, particularly when it came to Cassiopeia.

He once again wondered why he'd never heard of her, never seen her. Did no one know they were ever even friends? The thing stirred in response to his indirect questioning, so he sighed and fought the thoughts off, instead thinking of Hermione. He'd messed up with her, but he'd had little choice. She looked at him now as though she deeply mistrusted him, and so Harry supposed she did. He also supposed that she had good reason, that he wasn't to be trusted, that he'd made yet another series of irrevocable mistakes.

Then Ginny. She'd felt him, she'd felt the thing in his head, reaching for her thoughts. He didn't know when or how on Earth she'd learned Occlumency. She'd certainly never mentioned it to him. He wasn't particularly keen on going downstairs and finding out exactly how badly he'd screwed up. Both Ginny and Hermione could present a pretty compelling case to the headmaster, at that point.

He needed to talk to Ginny. He didn't see a way to confront Hermione, she was rigid in her conviction, but Ginny… Maybe she'd listen. Not that he could offer her many words. He got dressed and checked the map. She was still in her dormitory, along with Hermione. They were close enough together that they could be talking. He pushed down the bubble of anxiety and left the room as the light grew golden.

He didn't see Ginny that day, she stayed in the tower, mostly in her dormitory. Hermione stayed close, shooting him suspicious looks. Ron trailed along behind them, looking far away and distracted. Harry didn't have the mental capacity or the desire to address any of it.

The thing in his head kept thinking about the vampire and so Harry would. And then he would be aggressively chastised, as though it was his fault. He'd push his thoughts back to the youngest Weasley, and he found it to be more irritating than Cassiopeia. When the day was over, Ginny was still in her bed. Hermione didn't say anything to him when he asked, just shooting him a 'you should know,' scowl, which didn't inspire hope. Despite that, Hermione didn't go to the headmaster that day, which he thought was a good sign.

He didn't follow Hermione and Ron to the Common Room from their early dinner, instead, he'd ducked into a corridor when they weren't looking, Hermione fussing with Ron's tie as he slipped away, running when he was a safe distance from them. He quickly turned three corners before he released a breath and pushed out through the huge entrance doors he'd doubled back to, out into the courtyard, then across the bridge to the far edge of the grounds. He dropped his outer cloak and bag on the ground, conscious of the time and the rapidly descending sun. He concealed them with a spell just in case anyone was out there with him, though he felt alone as he started to run along the tree line.

He picked up the pace until he felt he was 'running for his life' fast and tried to keep it. He found his thoughts were harder to focus on, the faster he got, the further he ran. His heartbeat for once was focused on his legs and not his head. His head was focused on his legs instead of itself. Until he couldn't really breathe anymore and had to stop.

'That wasn't good time,' the voice told him.

'How long was it?'

'Three minutes.'

"Ahhh," Harry said out loud, panting, still buckled over. "Forty-minute stints? Forty?"

'If I was running for my life I'd run better,' He added mentally.

He waited for his lungs to stop feeling like they might come out, then sprinted back the way he'd come, sucking in lungfuls of air and forcing his legs past the comfortable limit. He collapsed near his belongings, inhaling like he was in anaphylactic shock. He'd managed six minutes in total. Definitely could stand to be improved, but he couldn't understand why the Dark Lord would will it. To protect the thing in his head was the only thing that made sense, but the reason for that was still beyond him. Still made him feel a sick dread.

'Beyond you too, is it?' Harry asked spitefully as he made his way back onto the grounds, panting, knowing it wasn't going to answer him.

"We both know you're entirely too busy," Cassiopeia sighed and crossed her legs. Dramatic. She flicked her black eyes at him to be sure he was seeing her being dramatic, then flicked them away again.

"I am dealing with two concurrent disasters. Possibly a third. Do," Harry leaned forward, "Forgive. Tell me what you saw." He'd had to save this conversation for the house that he'd custom-made purely for this problem. Warded, locked, far-flung, protected by Vows and Secret Keepers.

"Well, you weren't wrong. He's just… Some guy. There were a few things though… At the sight of me, he fainted. Twitching on the floor. Didn't seem like a vampire phobia. When he came to, I swear I could see it in his eyes. He used Liquida Tenebris easily like he did when he saw you. Pretty much to your skill level if I had to guess," she gave him a pointed look, "He fights like shit though. Hopeless."

"I believe that Dumbledore has kept him defenceless on purpose."

"No. You don't think that…" She paused when Harry pressed a finger to his lips shushing her, then tapped his temple.

"Remember? So, you agree, it was Liquida Tenebris?"

She nodded, "Nonverbal, but it's distinct, wouldn't you say?"

"I have a theory about why, but it's…" Harry shook his head, leaving the half-formed thought and continuing with another, "I saw fragments of my memories in his head. I found something else, though. When he came to me, he was… Not easy to read. But I have reason to believe it is sentient."

Her eyes bugged. "Sentient? Is that possible? How sentient?"

"It seems to patrol his mind like a guard dog. I'd like a better look. But that poses its own… Issues."

"Right, because you're the Dark fucking Lord Voldemort,"

"Swearing has never become you,"

"Up your ass," she poked her tongue out and he felt a wave of nearly foreign, long-forgotten peace.

"And you think… Hogwarts is the best place… For it?" She pressed, resuming the same argument she'd begun when he'd first told her.

"I have done the best I can," Harry began slowly, "It would be counterproductive to kidnap him. He needs to come to us."

The Boy Who Lived snapped awake, breathing hard.

'I think you already know how unwilling I am to discuss this with you,' the voice said immediately before he'd formed the questions that were coming. It sounded, above all else, tired.

'They spoke like they know what you are? Didn't they? Don't you think so?' Harry pressed regardless.

'When- if, our interests ever align,' it snapped, 'I'll tell you what I am myself.'

"So, you do know!" Harry gasped, sitting up in his bed.

'Of course I- Of course I know. He knows too. So does she, by the looks of things. Does that help you any, Harry?' It seemed more agitated than usual. So they did know. That put him behind.

'What did he mean by I have to come to him? What does that mean? Like for a meeting? It sounded like he meant… Permanently-'

'I'm no privier to that than you are,'

'Yeah, but you know why… Why would Dumbledore be- why would he keep me defenceless on purpose?' There was a long pause, and Harry assumed that it was done talking to him.

'You're so thick I can hardly stand it. Genuinely. Cast Liquida Tenebris Harry before I kill us both.' It fizzed in his head, and though he only half believed it, the spell was due.

There was still the issue of Hermione's tracking spell.

'Do it here,' it told him.

'Oh, right yeah, of course, flood the dormitory with your evil smoke cloud and choke the whole of Gryffindor?' Harry scoffed out loud.

'It's our… evil smoke cloud, for the record. Ward it in.'

'Oh, I see, the magic is yours, but the spell is ours. What ward holds that in?'

'I'm so glad you asked actually,' it ignored his comment and extended the magic. Harry took it, removed his wand from under his pillow, silenced his bed and stuck the curtains while he waited for instructions. It did the casting for him, words he didn't recognize in his mind as his wand was guided by a vague feeling of correctness. A small dome formed above his head within the confines of his curtains, shimmering faintly silver. He reached out to touch it and found that it was solid.

'Do you think that… Condensing it in a small space like this is a good idea?' Harry asked.

'I really do.'

When he cast it and the weight of the darkness crushed him, forced the air from his lungs as it pinned him to the bed, violently, blessedly destroying his thoughts, he found that he agreed.

By Sunday, four days later, he'd had enough of Hermione and Ginny both. The youngest Weasley was a ghost, Hermione Granger a poltergeist.

Hermione had gone to the headmaster twice since he'd tried Legilimency on Ginny, but he hadn't been called to see Dumbledore yet. And he knew it was when not if. The only victory he had was that he'd managed to run for ten minutes straight on Saturday. The rest felt miserable. Ron was entirely stoic at the sight of him, minimally responding. The older Weasley spent more time pestering Hermione than anything else. Harry didn't know what was going on with him, but he hadn't managed to get a real, meaningful word out of him since… He wasn't sure when. Before that year, at least.

Hermione seemed to distrust everything he said, regardless of authenticity. So, slowly, he said nothing to her, choosing to instead steal away from her and Ron when they fought for no reason. He knew that she would track him, that she would know that he was leaving just to run around the grounds, that she knew he was giving her the slip on purpose. She was becoming increasingly frazzled, snapping at Ron with more and more ferocity, and picking at every word the Harry said until the Chosen One found he could barely stand her anymore. The fact that she had put a tracking spell on him, that she told the headmaster about it, and that he'd allowed it to continue, was leaving an increasingly sour taste in his mouth.

'Why wouldn't you leash your dog?' The thing had taken to egging him on about it.

He found that worst of all he missed Ginny. Several times he'd sat up late in the Common Room without her, wishing that he'd just left well enough alone. So what if she'd stolen the cloak? So what if she was hiding something? So was he. And now he was alone with it. And he supposed, so was she. He'd watched her on the map, wandering the castle, occasionally talking to Luna, Neville, or Hermione, but mostly by herself. Sometimes she vanished from the map entirely.

He'd been running that evening, before dinner, the thing in his head keeping minutes as he tried to distract himself from… All of it. He was doubled over, catching his breath -eleven minutes, it told him- when he heard the last voice he wanted to hear.

"Harry my boy, fancy finding you out here," Dumbledore called. Harry remained doubled over, though he'd lost the breath he'd been trying to catch. The thing scrambled to hide what was now quite a number of errant thoughts and actions, while Harry tried to buy time. He couldn't shake the suspicion that he'd been given no warning on purpose as Dumbledore approached him, still talking, "I thought it was a lovely evening for a walk, don't you agree?"

"Yes, sir," Harry muttered, slowly rising, as ready as he was ever going to be as he locked eyes with the headmaster. He wasn't surprised at all when the man entered his mind.

"Were you running?" He asked as he moved over the last few days in his memory. The thing gave him scrubbed versions, showing Ron and Hermione squabbling like infants, slinking away from them to run, to clear his head. At that point, it was a concentrated, paired effort. He and the thing were wrestling with each other's anger and fear. Harry would pass his emotions and thoughts freely, quickly, while resisting the ones he could.

"Yes, sir, it… Clears my head. Things with Hermione and Ron have been- I don't know if you've noticed…" Harry said, trailing off while Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.

"They aren't getting along very well, as of late, are they?" The headmaster asked, still searching his memories, now focused on finding the nights Hermione must have told him were unaccounted for. The thing showed him Harry wandering the halls aimlessly under the invisibility cloak.

"You mustn't stray too far from those you love, Harry, you'll find they are anchors in the coming storm," Dumbledore said as the thread vanished.

It held his emotions and thoughts until the man was out of sight, and then it released them like a tidal wave.