Harry had to make sure that Filch was gone before he swiftly searched the hall for his cloak. He kicked his feet around the smooth surface of the floor until he felt something soft and invisible beneath his trainer and scooped it up in his shaking hands. He marched up to the seventh floor under cover of the cloak, his eyes unseeing and his veins pulsing with relentless fury.
As he walked, he felt himself falling.
Falling.
Falling.
He was falling into a deep, dark pit of rage.
There were too many things to start with—too many things pushing their way into his mind for him to focus on just one. Why hadn't he done something about it when Malfoy first said those things? Because of Angelina. Why hadn't he forced her to confess to him what she had just said in the hallway? Because she promised him she was all right. Anger…his anger for her almost matched his anger for Malfoy. He stayed these thoughts as best he could as he approached the corridor with the hideous tapestry. Harry was startled by Dobby when he swept the cloak from around his shoulders.
"Where has you been, Harry Potter, sir?" the little elf squeaked, wringing his hands, his enormous eyes wide with relief. "We was most worried!"
"I got held up, Dobby," Harry said distractedly, walking past the wall and then turning around to walk past it again, only thinking that he had to get in there to Angelina. He turned a second time, walking past the nervous little elf without looking at him.
"But you is all right, Harry Potter, sir?" Dobby asked, watching Harry make the third stride and then stepping aside as the door to the room appeared.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks." Harry patiently acknowledged Dobby's concern and opened the door.
When he stepped inside every pair of eyes turned his way and the commotion in the room ceased immediately. Harry steeled himself against their curious, worried, and shocked expressions. He closed the door behind him and walked through the circle of pairs to the back of the room where he discarded his cloak and map on the cushions laid out there. Pulling out his wand, Harry smoothed his hair and stepped forward, into their midst, addressing the silence.
Fred, George, and Ron stood regarding him with blank expressions that revealed nothing to those around them but meant a great deal to Harry. He knew that they would expect him to tell them every detail once they were alone, but Harry did not feel up to it. At the moment, he could only feel the anger pumping through him hot enough to burn him from the inside out.
He saw Angelina standing in a corner with Katie Bell at her side, looking at him intensely. His eyes narrowed at her for a split second before he turned to Hermione, who had partnered up with Neville, and asked evenly: "What'd I miss?"
Hermione hesitated, glancing over at Angelina too before answering him. "Um…well, we've been practicing our shields like you said to. Everyone's catching on pretty well, I think…" she frowned, somewhat apologetically. "Only Angelina's just arrived a few minutes before you, so…Harry what's wrong? Why are you so late?"
"Filch," came Harry's terse reply. "He almost caught me, I had to lose him."
"Oh…" Hermione looked as if she didn't quite believe him, but he gave her no time to ask more questions.
Harry cleared his throat and sighed, trying to quell the lingering fury inside waiting for the opportunity to erupt again. He was shaking, he was so angry, and it seemed that most people could see this but he ignored their stares and told them clearly: "Okay I need to see how everyone's doing. We'll go around to each person separately, and I want you to show me how you perform the shield while I send something flying at you." He heard some of them murmur at this, and added: "I'll use something soft. One of those cushions, I guess. It won't hurt."
Harry struggled to get a grip on himself, taking a deep breath to stay his quivering rage, but his mind attacked him with images of Malfoy and Angelina over and over as he watched people do as he asked. Cho smiled at him nervously when he levitated one of the cushions and told her to get ready to protect herself. Using the banishing charm he had learned in Flitwik's class, Harry sent the cushion at her swiftly and she shouted "Protego!" causing a warm, golden bubble of magic to swell around her that stopped the cushion's acceleration and made it drop to the floor at her feet.
Everyone applauded her, and she blushed, adverting her gaze from Harry as he reached down to retrieve the pillow. "Very good Cho."
"Thanks, Harry…" she muttered sincerely, stepping aside so that Marietta could take her turn.
Harry did all of them one by one, but when he came to Angelina he paused, saying faintly that perhaps he should not test her just yet because she hadn't had time to practice with the others. He could not help his gaze from lingering on hers, his words very simple but also very heavy under the influence of the volcano inside him.
"I can do it," was Angelina's response. Everyone grew quiet again, clearly feeling uncomfortable by their unspoken stand off. She looked positively close to tears, but Harry could not let go of his anger.
"Fine. On three, then." He levitated the cushion with his wand and they locked eyes. "One—two—three—Propello!"
The bright blue cushion went zooming at her with a little too much force, but she reacted to it swiftly, her glowing orb of protection knocking it back several inches and to the floor before it hit her. Harry sighed and lowered his wand, stooping to pick up the cushion again as the others congratulated Angelina's quick spell work. She didn't take her eyes off him but he ignored her, turning now to address the lot of them.
"Okay. We've only got a little time left, but I want to try something before we stop." He looked around and his eyes caught sight of Ginny. He motioned for her to come forward and she did, not at all looking at him the way the others were. She didn't seem to wish any more heavy curiosity to weigh him down, and he was so glad for that. Harry then held the cushion out to Hermione. "You send this at her, Hermione."
Hermione nodded and took the cushion, levitating it in front of herself with her wand. "On three?"
"Yeah…" Harry raised his own wand. Ginny stood still, watching them both, her eyes shining. Hermione counted to three and then sent the cushion flying at Ron's younger sister. Harry shouted "Protego!" and instead of a glowing orb of magic forming around himself, it formed around Ginny and the pillow halted, falling once again to the floor. Everyone reacted to this, murmuring amongst themselves.
"It's been my experience…" Harry spoke, turning again to face them, his expression severe and his tone very solemn. "…that sometimes to get to you, your enemy will hurt someone close to you. I mean this in both senses of the word." Everyone hushed as he surveyed them; even Zacharius Smith seemed subdued and captivated. "It isn't enough to learn how to protect yourself. You have to protect each other, too. Your friends. Your…" Angelina, who was taller than most, came into his view again and he almost faltered at the sight of her but he quickly turned away to Ron. "Your girlfriends and boyfriends. Your parents. Your sisters and brothers."
Cho let out a tiny little whimper, tears springing forth in her eyes. He knew she was thinking of Cedric and it pained him. Fred stepped forward and patted her gently on the back. Harry silently thanked him with his eyes and continued.
"So I want us to learn how to do it this way too, okay? Ron, come here for a moment." Ron reluctantly stepped forward, regarding Harry reverently. Harry chose not to acknowledge his friend's gaze and motioned for Hermione to take Ginny's place. "Okay, we'll try it with you guys, now. Are you ready, Ron?"
"Uh…yeah." Ron swallowed.
He looked over at Hermione, his blue eyes warm with feeling, and she gazed back. Her chest was fluttering slightly. Harry could see, despite his obstinate anger, that they truly cared for each other, and why they had ignored it for so long was beyond him. The lanky Weasley boy raised his wand. Harry levitated the cushion, counted to three and then, zoom! Ron stuttered his incantation, and the pillow hit Hermione softly on the shoulder and fell.
"Shite! Sorry, Harry." Ron's cheeks turned red and his nostrils flared with disappointment.
Harry stalked over to Hermione and snatched up the pillow, bringing it back to Ron and saying flatly: "Again."
They tried four more times, each time Harry counting to three and banishing the pillow at Hermione, and each time Ron not being able to sufficiently erect a shield around her. The last time had been close, and the gold magic flickered at them for a moment but died out just as the cushion reached it and she was struck in the face. Rubbing her nose, Hermione managed a weak smile at Ron. "It's okay, Ron," she reassured him.
"No, it's not!" Harry snapped, his anger rising to the brim suddenly. He stared at them both, feeling bad for yelling but not being able to stop himself. He felt like punching Malfoy over and over and over again the way Angelina had described to him in her dream and his head ached and his heart ached and Ron was driving him crazy with his muttered apologies and hunched shoulders. "What's the matter with you?" he demanded of his friend, causing Ron to blanch in surprise. "That is Hermione! What if I were a Death Eater? What if we were fighting them off and somebody tried to hit her with a curse?"
"Harry, mate, it's only-" Fred was saying, but Harry shook his head fervently, his eyes not leaving Ron's.
"Don't you care about her enough to want to-t-to need to protect her?"
"Yes…" Ron whispered. Harry would not let up.
"I didn't hear you," he pressed firmly.
Hermione took a step forward. "Harry, leave him alone."
He ignored her. The two boys stood face to face, their eyes locked on each others. Ron had no way of knowing the true source of Harry's frustration, but the words his friend threw at him seemed to be having an effect.
"Think, Ron! Think hard, because this is not just pretend. They're Voldemort's followers! They'll try to hurt her, kill her! What are you going to do? There won't be any bloody counting to three!"
Harry lifted his wand suddenly and shouted "Propello!" Everyone gasped as he banished the cushion toward Hermione, who screeched and leapt backward, forgetting that it couldn't really harm her. Harry's white noise had been upon him again, so he didn't hear Ron bellow the incantation, finally producing a bright golden orb around their friend that not only stopped the cushion but sent it flying off in another direction where it crashed into the wall and landed with a plump sigh on the floor.
The room was so silent that when the white noise faded all Harry could hear was his own breathing. Everyone was still—staring—waiting. Hermione marveled at the protective magic still glowing around her and then lowered her gaze to Ron. Their arguments and petty jealousy were forgotten in that moment. Ron lowered his wand and the glow disappeared elegantly.
"Thanks…" he told Harry quietly.
This caused the raw emotion coursing through him to swell violently and he tilted his head at his friend apologetically. "I'm sorry I yelled at you…but…this is important." He turned once again to the rest of them. "That's why we started this group. Umbridge and Fudge are killing us all slowly by shutting out the truth, and it's up to us to stop Voldemort's attack when it comes. I hope you all get that. We'll have to fight, kids or not."
No one spoke a word. Harry imagined that if any one of them chose not to show up to the next meetings, he would not be surprised at all. They all seemed to be visibly affected by his use of Voldemort's name not once but twice, and it made him feel even worse. Hermione cleared her throat. "Maybe we should call it quits for tonight, okay Harry?"
He lowered his head and stared at the floor, but nodded.
Everyone gathered their things and got into their usual groups to be escorted by Ron, Hermione, and Dobby back to their respective parts of the castle. Harry stayed behind, still staring at the floor. Ron lingered at the door for a moment but Angelina reached out and touched him on the shoulder, startling him. He hadn't realized she was there still, but he understood that it would be better if she talked to Harry. Ron backed out, gazing at his friend empathetically again before he disappeared through the door.
"Harry."
He looked up at her, his attempt to meditate in order to suppress his violent anger disturbed by her soft voice. She still looked as if she wanted to cry. He understood why she felt this way, but it was hard for him to soften to this. Harry only struggled to call forth the will to speak to her without yelling, as he so wanted to. He could not decide whether he was angrier at her or at what she had done. And what had she done? Something flickered dimly in his mind but he chose not to acknowledge it now.
"Are you all right?" he asked with no small amount of difficulty.
She shuddered, the tears springing forth. "No…"
Harry swallowed. He was doing a good job of keeping it at bay, the anger. All he needed to do was concentrate on getting through this, and he would be fine. "Angelina, tell me the truth. Now. Please."
"The truth about what?" she uttered through a suppressed sob.
"About that fucking coward putting his hands on you!" Harry bellowed, losing his self control quickly. She jumped at his sudden outburst and the tears started coming freely then, but he ignored them. "Angelina. I asked you—I asked you if he hurt you for real, and you said no. You told me-!"
"I couldn't remember!" she insisted. "I still can't!" Angelina took a deep breath and wiped her damp eyes. "That's why I didn't tell you—I had nothing to go on. And now I know why—he Obliviated me."
Harry's chest heaved as though he would vomit, but the only thing that would come gushing out of him was more of his ugly temper even though he was trying so hard to find that part of himself that would embrace her and tell her everything was going to be okay. He felt so betrayed, however, that he simply couldn't muster it.
"I'm going to kill him!"
"Harry, please!"
Angelina rushed forth, taking hold of him and pressing herself against him, her damp cheek against his flushed one. He stiffened, but then relaxed and brought his arms up to embrace her. Harry closed his eyes and held her tight, trying to bat away the images of Malfoy touching her, grabbing her…he couldn't. And he realized suddenly that having every question answered by her or Malfoy wouldn't help at all. He realized that knowing every detail would not make him feel any better, and that screaming at her for withholding information-information that, Merlin's beard, boy, she didn't have herself!-was not a solution.
"I shouldn't have lied to you about the duel. But I thought you'd try to stop me. Now I know I have to do it."
Angelina sniffed and stood up straight, releasing him. "Harry, don't."
He refrained from speaking right away. He thought that she would understand, and having her say exactly what he did not want to hear was making his anger rise rapidly again.
"Don't? Don't what exactly?" Angelina gazed at him beseechingly, trying to figure out how best to explain herself to him. How could she tell him about her dreams? About Umbridge and the Quidditch pitch, and that whip and her evil cheering… "Hit him again! Hit him harder!" All the while waiting for Harry like some beast in a cave waiting to strike at any innocent passer by. How could she tell him that she had such a terrible feeling—such a terrible feeling that something bad would happen to him if he went off blindly trying to defend her honor? "Answer me."
She could see him struggling to control his temper and knew that he was losing.
"He—this—is my problem. Let me handle it. Please…"
"What are you going to do?" Harry let go of her and stepped back, squinting incredulously. "Hex him so his eyes go crossed?"
"No…"
"Oh well excuse me if I don't think whatever you've got planned is good enough."
It was her turn to be angry, and she wiped the newest tears from her face again harshly. "And dueling with him in the middle of the bloody Quidditch pitch is a better idea, is it?"
"YES!" he exploded, "I'm going to turn him into a goddamned beetle and squash his bloody brains out!" Harry clenched his fists at his sides, glaring at her. Oh, he just couldn't understand it. He wanted to shout at her. He wanted to seize her and shake those tears from her face and make her wake up to what she was saying to him, but just then he realized that he didn't want to hurt her, he wanted to hurt Malfoy, and she wouldn't stop him this time.
"And what will you do if you're caught? Will you turn Umbridge into a beetle, too?" Angelina was no longer crying. "Look at you! You're so angry you're not thinking clearly!"
"I am thinking. I won't get caught, Fred and George are helping me, and even if I do I don't care!"
"Yes, you do care, Harry. You care because this school is not just where all of your friends are, or where Dumbledore is, but it's the only real home you've got!"
Harry supposed he ought to feel positively about the fact that she had recognized this in him; his feelings about Hogwarts. He supposed even, that he should understand that it really meant something; her attempting to protect him from potentially ruining the one good thing in his life besides her and his friends. But then, no, no, no—if she could see this about him then hadn't she understood that when he was yelling at Ron about protection and courage and will that it applied to them most of all? Couldn't she see, through all of his yelling, that he was starting to really care about her because she was the first person in his life to make him feel truly loved?
But here she was…she was expressly forbidding him to do what a loved one does when the person he cares about is being threatened. She was trying to prevent him from protecting her—why?
"Yeah, you're right." He told her, now. "Hogwarts is my home, and right now it's being ruled over by that bloody tyrant Umbridge and Malfoy is doing everything he can to get me out, so I'm going to defend myself! And you, too!"
"Oh, please, oh please Harry I understand why you think you have to but Umbridge is more dangerous than you think. She's crazy! She'll-she'll…" Angelina stammered, her eyes roaming all over the room trying to grasp the words to express her concerns for him from the thin air.
"I know what she is. I found out she sent those Dementors after me last summer. She's the reason I was almost expelled, and Malfoy's father helped her. Now they want to get me out of the school, but I won't let them."
"But you're doing exactly what they want!"
"Angelina, I'm not arguing about this anymore! I'm going. Don't try and-!" Harry suddenly felt a white-hot swell of pain explode in his scar and he buckled over, his hand flying up to his forehead. Coupled with that was the most agonizing, vicious rage he had ever felt, and it had nothing to do with the present situation. He growled at his shoes, saliva dripping from his crimson lips as the blinding pain pulsed through the thin flesh of his poor jagged scar.
"Harry?" Angelina moved towards him, her voice hushed with uneasiness. "Harry, what is it?"
"It can be done!" he rasped, the fury racking his body through and through. "It will be done! Do you hear me? Do you? I will have that boy's head!" He knew that this was not his own mind making him say these things, but he could not stop it. He stood up and glared at her, the pain in his scar so horrible that he grimaced awfully at her.
"What?" Angelina reared back in total disbelief. His fists were clenched at his sides, his eyes narrow and seething with rage. He did not look like himself, and Angelina felt so afraid both for him and of him that she didn't know what to do.
"Angelina…" he uttered, using his own voice. "You should get out of here. Now..." He felt the ferocity surging forth again, just as he thought it was dissipating and he trembled against it. He didn't want to hurt her, but felt he would if she stood staring at him like that any longer. Voldemort was enraged, and he was hurting someone, Harry could feel it. His scar felt as if it would start bleeding soon if the pain didn't let up.
"You're not well, Harry. Please tell me what's wrong."
"Get out."
"No!"
"Leave," he growled through clenched teeth. "Angelina, please get out, go away, I'm warning you-!" Harry was struggling to keep standing, but he was hurting and it was all he could do not to snap his wand in half. It was like Voldemort had his hand around Harry's head, and he remembered how awful it had been for him when the evil wizard had touched him in that cemetery.
"Do you want to push me away, now? Over something that isn't yours to deal with in the first place? You think it's easy for me to have no memory of what happened to me? What do you want from me, Harry?"
"I WANT YOU TO GET OUT!"
She stood there for more awful seconds, staring at him. "If you do this…" Through his agony he blanched at these words. She did not finish the sentence, but he didn't need her to. 'If you do this', what? What? 'If you do this it's over between us'…was that what she was saying? Rage bubbled forth again, and he wanted to throw her words back at her. "Fine!" she snatched up her bag and robe and backed away from him. "You go and murder Malfoy and get sent off to Azkaban!"
"I will then!" Harry bellowed, despite himself, and he abruptly turned and threw his fist into a row of books on the shelf behind him, knocking most of them loudly to the floor. "ARGHHH!" Harry kicked a book across the room and collapsed on the pile of cushions, holding his throbbing head in both hands. Angelina stood still and watched him for a moment before turning around and leaving him alone, finally.
Harry held his head down, his fingers laced into his hair, praying silently for it to stop. Get out of my head, get out. The pain pulsed and ripped and the anger boiled for a long time until Harry felt he would pass out. Just as he was sure he would retch, it began to recede.
Dobby slipped his tiny body in, his enormous eyes glowing in the moonlight coming through the window above Harry. "Harry Potter, sir…is you all right? You looks most pale, sir."
"I'm fine…Dobby…" Harry panted, still clutching his poor head.
"Will you be needing the room any longer, sir?" Dobby squeaked, looking from Harry to the books strewn all over the floor nervously.
"No…I'm going to bed."
He stood up shakily; almost swaying off his balance, but Dobby rushed forth and caught Harry's hand before he fell backwards. Smiling meekly, Dobby used his cool, bony fingers to move Harry's hand over to his round little head. "Dobby will help Harry Potter back to his bed, sir."
Gently using Dobby as a crutch, and taking care to put on his Invisibility Cloak, Harry allowed himself to be led out of the Room of Requirement and carefully back up to Gryffindor Tower. Dobby had an excellent knowledge of the ins and outs of the castle by now, as he'd been living there for going on three years, and he guided Harry back with no trouble at all. They avoided Filch effortlessly; Harry knew he was still on the prowl for him and Malfoy after they'd destroyed the banister on Umbridge's floor. He was feeling totally drained from so much emotional and physical turmoil in such a short amount of time that he simply allowed Dobby to do most of the thinking for them as they made their way.
Dobby bypassed the portrait hole, to Harry's quiet confusion, and went instead to a secret passageway that the elves used when they came in to clean the common rooms. Harry watched Dobby snap his fingers, causing a stone bust of the third ever Gryffindor Head of House to slide out of his way, revealing a narrow passageway. Dobby led Harry into it, where it seemed to stretch on forever in the dim depths, but they turned and Harry found himself walking towards a warm orange light that he knew was the fire in the common room.
He could just make out the couches and comfortable crimson chairs that surrounded the hearth as they advanced.
Dobby waved his little hand and the fire died out just as they made it to what Harry had always seen as the stone back to the fireplace. They stepped over the logs and into the common room. Harry turned around quickly and did not see the passageway they'd come through, but the stone back that had always been there whenever he sat in front of the fire.
"That's a neat trick, Dobby," he mused tiredly.
"We uses it to clean without disturbing, sir." Dobby smiled up at him. "All the elves has this magic in the castle. We knows all the secrets. And there are many."
"Well, I'm glad you're on my side, then…" muttered Harry, sliding into an armchair and closing his tired eyes.
"Will Harry Potter be needing anything else? Hot something to drink? Fire again?" Harry heard Dobby snap his fingers and a second later the warm light of the fire was flickering across his eyelids. He shook his head.
"No, thank you. I'll just sit here for a moment."
"Well…good night, Harry Potter, sir."
"Good night, Dobby."
Harry watched Dobby leave the way he had come, and sat in the gloom of the empty and silent common room for a long time. His scar pricked awfully, and his eyes felt drawn together and tight with the slowly fading tension from all of his yelling. Harry thought of Angelina.
He thought of her face as she backed Draco Malfoy into a corner, threatening him that she would get him back for what he had done. Well what had he done? It was severe enough to use a Memory Charm on her, wasn't it? The thought of it made Harry dig his fingers into the fabric of the chair he was sitting in.
Yes, Harry had a temper. And they always told him it would lead him to trouble.
Trouble. Voldemort had infiltrated his mind again. Perhaps not willingly—Harry doubted he would see such glimpses of what the dark wizard was up to with Voldemort's permission. There was something he wanted, desperately. Harry remembered the members of the Order talking of a weapon. He remembered his dreams; he had them several times a week now, with no progress whatsoever. He thought of that mysterious door.
Voldemort wanted Harry's head…He had Harry's head…Dumbledore would be getting a visit from him as soon as this Malfoy thing was taken care of…Harry was going to blast that fucker's fingers off one by one…that'd teach him to touch without asking permission first…
Harry was unaware that he had fallen asleep.
"Stand up straight. Breathe normally. Do not allow anxiety or fear into your conscious mind; for this will surely cripple your ability to react to your enemy's attack properly or preempt his next move. Your wand is an extension of yourself. Hold it straight forward, using your other arm to erect a proper dueling stance. These stances, shown in the diagrams below, enable the wizard to concentrate his magic into a central, focused point. Practice this—you will find that your magic doubles (sometimes triples, depending on the wizard) in force by using these stances to your advantage."
Harry paused in his reading, wondering how he could use a stance to his advantage, and where his focal point was. According to the diagram drawn below the passage in the tattered copy of Dueling Through the Ages he was examining, different wizards had different points on their person through which they could focus extremely potent magic for the using.
Harry assumed, however, that the book was referring to adult wizards only, but he did not expressly give weight to this. If he had learned anything over the past four and a half years, it was that age is nothing but a number. He read on.
"In order to properly assess where your magic is best concentrated, you may use a technique that is simple in nature but very meaningful upon completion. It is called Meditating Your Magical Center. For your first attempt at this, stand in an open space or large room; preferably empty. This space should be free of distraction and have a healthy source of light. The quiet, stillness, and light are important; for they are used both to propel your mind into the depths of semi-consciousness (quiet and stillness), and also to draw you back once your have achieved your goal (light).
"Concentrate on the quiet, and be still. Breathe. Breathing is important. It relaxes your senses and through it's rhythm it allows you to open your mind slowly. Feel your magic pulsing through you. It will be difficult at fist, but remember to stay very still and breathe well. The quiet will close in on you, and you will feel yourself falling into your own-"
Harry felt a hand on his and looked up to find Hermione and Ron standing over him. "So this is where you've been this whole time?" Ron asked, frowning a little. Harry nodded silently, waiting patiently for Hermione to release his hand and relinquish her concerned gaze from him.
He had risen just after dawn and paced around the common room for a couple of hours, thinking. He thought of everything under the sun—from Umbridge to Sirius to Angelina to Dumbledore…Draco, Snape and Lucius Malfoy…just about everything crossed his mind at some point during that time. He decided that things would need to be dealt with one problem at a time; the first being the duel he was to participate in that night. So Harry had gone up to his room, grabbed his towel and retreated to the showers.
He did not have another attack from Voldemort's mood swings, but he made lists of things he wanted to do to Malfoy as the water ran over his hair and into his eyes. He came to the conclusion that he was indeed taking this seriously. Turning Malfoy into a jackass or making him giggle uncontrollably just did not seem to be enough.
He made peace with the fact that if caught he would be chucked out, but was determined to look on the bright side: if he was expelled—if he really was, Merlin forbid—he could go and live with his godfather. There was no other person he could think of that he missed more right now. Sirius would be delirious with happiness, he knew, and he supposed that living at Grimmauld Place wouldn't be so bad if it were the two of them. His godfather was still a kid at heart, despite the years spent locked up in Azkaban.
After his shower Harry had been among the very first kids in the Great Hall for breakfast, but he ate and left before half of them noticed he was there. He had been in the library for the last couple of hours, reading books on dueling. Today was match day for Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, but Harry had given it little thought, such was his focus on learning how to obliterate Malfoy.
Seeing Ron in his Quidditch gear now gave him a small pang of covetous sorrow, but he ignored it and watched as his two friends sat down at the table with him.
"We were worried about you. Ron said you didn't come back to your room last night," Hermione began immediately, her eyes sweeping over the four or five open books spread out in front of him. "And…" she sighed and leaned in, her expression grave. "…Angelina was close to tears when she appeared after the meeting. She said you'd screamed at her and that you were planning to duel with Malfoy?"
"That's right." Harry avoided her gaze, instead focusing on the diagram he'd been studying earlier.
"So it's true?" Hermione hissed. "Did the twins put you up to this?"
"No."
"Harry! You can't! You realize that if you're caught, you'll be exp-!"
Harry did look at her now, and she hushed. There was a pause in which none of them spoke, and then through the heavy silence Ron leaned forward. "Harry…you're not gonna…like, try and…eh…"
"Kill him?" Harry answered flatly.
Ron nodded. "Yeah. I mean, well, I'm sure he deserves it but, mate…come on. Angelina said you were acting like a madman last night. Screaming your head off and knocking shelves over and such. What did Malfoy do?"
Harry took a deep breath and decided to simply tell them. "I think he tried to rape Angelina and erased her memory afterward."
"WHAT?" Hermione clamped her hand over her mouth, startled by her own raised voice, and after glancing quickly about to make sure Pince wasn't around she and Ron leaned in even closer. Harry suddenly felt very claustrophobic, but only shifted in his seat, really whishing that he could get back to his reading.
"Okay." Ron gritted, his cheeks turning red and his nostrils flaring with anger. "Never mind. I take it back. Kill him."
"Ron, no!" Hermione reproached him sharply from behind her trembling hand.
"Well you heard what Harry just said!" Ron hissed back. "That sod deserves nothing less than to have his knees broken! If he ever so much as touched you, I'd wring his slimy neck!"
Hermione lowered her hand from her mouth and reached over to touch him on the cheek. It looked like it took her a tremendous amount of effort, but that it was something she had perhaps been longing to do for a long time and he had just given her a real reason to act on the desire. He was mid-rant and his mouth hung open as she did this. Harry watched, feeling very gloomy and removed but deciding to let them have their tender moment.
"That is very sweet, Ron, but I would never ask you to put yourself in that position."
"What position, exactly?" Harry cut in. Hermione turned to him and muttered that he knew very well what position. "Angelina is on the same crazy way of thinking! What is it about you girls? Can't you understand that it doesn't matter what risk I'm taking? Why can't you just understand that?"
Harry lowered his head to his book and clamped his mouth shut to keep from yelling anymore. It seemed that lately he had been unable to control his ever-strengthening temper. His scar had pricked uncomfortably all day and was now throbbing and stinging a little. He thought absently that perhaps Voldemort had imprinted him with some of that ferocity of his when invading his mind so much with his feelings. And he thought still more secretly that perhaps it would help him come dueling time, though he wouldn't dare verbalize this now.
Hermione persisted, "And what about Angelina? How do you think she feels in all this? Harry, she was the one who was attacked and had her memory erased—I should have realized something was wrong when she asked me about Memory Charms, shoot Hermione!"
Harry was a bit thrown off by her abrupt spell of chiding herself under her breath, and exchanged looks with Ron, but then shook his head passionately. "I asked her about it and she deliberately kept her feelings from me from the off. She knew something was wrong with her all along, but she wouldn't bloody tell me! How am I supposed to feel about that, huh?"
Hermione clicked her tongue at him impatiently. "You're supposed to be patient and understanding like a good, supportive boyfriend instead of going off beating up everything in sight and bashing your chest like some awful gorilla, Harry!"
Harry scowled and both he and Hermione looked to Ron sharply for a word of support. He switched his gaze from his best mate to his potential girlfriend and gave a confused sigh. "Well you both have a point!"
Clenching his jaw and fixing Ron with a gaze of betrayal, Harry said dryly: "It doesn't matter, anyway. I think we've broken up."
"Harry, you didn't!" Hermione looked completely scandalized.
"What? It wasn't me." He didn't really believe that, and in fact he really desperately wanted to ask Hermione to go and find Angelina and convince her to forgive him for yelling at her and frightening her but his stubborn resolve would have none of it. "She basically said that if I went ahead with this she wouldn't see me anymore."
"I can't blame her. The way you were acting at the D.A. meeting…and what she told us afterwards..." Hermione looked at him with a mixture of worry and disapproval.
"Hey, he helped me work out my protection shield," Ron said in Harry's defense. "It was all right."
Hermione did not look convinced, so Harry explained that he had still been angry over seeing Draco and Angelina's exchange in the hall outside Umbridge's office. "And after the meeting when we were having our row, my scar starting hurting again. It was really bad—Voldemort—shush Ron, it's only a name—was really furious and I couldn't control myself. I didn't mean to scare her."
"Oh my goodness…well, Harry that is all the more reason for you to call off this whole dueling nonsense and go straight to Dumbledore about your scar!"
"I am going to Dumbledore, but not until I'm finished with Malfoy. It's not as if he's been much help up 'til now, anyway."
"This is so stupid!"
"No—it's—not. You don't understand."
"And I don't think I want to! Oh please, Harry don't do this! Malfoy can be dealt with in other ways!"
"Oh really?" Harry turned the page of his book hard, trying with all his might not to slam his fist on the table like he wanted to. "What do you suggest? Shall I go to Professor McGonagall? 'Oh, excuse me Professor, but I was wondering: you know that blond kid who looks like a rat in robes; Draco Malfoy? Well, I just found out that he tried to rape my girlfriend and then used a Memory Charm on her. I don't have any proof or anything, but all the same, do you think you could just nip by Potions this afternoon with a couple of Dementors and drag him off to the juvenile wing at Azkaban for me? Thanks.' "
Hermione sat quiet, and Harry did not look at either her or Ron. He continued reading, counting the seconds until they went off to the match.
"-into your own magical space, that rests deep within you. You will know it because all feeling, sense, and desire will drop. Stillness becomes true and quiet need not be sought. Now take aim. Your wand is yourself, extended outward and ready to do your bidding. But, also it is your guide. Let it guide you; the tip acting as a radar for magical energy within you. You will, after a moment (it should only take a moment, but for some wizards the process will be slower), feel the pull of your magic. It will pull your wand hand to it, drawing it towards its force, and then you should perform a spell (preferably an incantation that would normally take force and concentration in the first place, like a particular battle charm) and feel the amplified magic course through you! That is your center! That is the core of all your magic. You should operate from this point at all times during the duel, and once you lock on to its location, your natural sense of magic within yourself will allow you to use it with more ease than before. The more you focus, the easier it will become to expand your core; making it bigger and therefore stronger…"
Harry marked this page and closed Dueling Through the Ages, reaching over to retrieve Battle Charms. He had almost forgotten that Ron and Hermione were still there.
"So you're not coming to the match, then?" Ron asked quietly.
Harry looked up, in the middle of opening Battle Charms to the first chapter, 'Basic Charms and Spells for the First-time Duelist.' "I need to prepare. You understand, right?"
"Sure. Of course I do, mate." Ron shrugged. "I'm not expecting any huge victory anyway. We may scrape by but Angelina was being nice about my goal-keeping. I don't think I've improved much."
"Oh shut up, you've been practicing like a madman almost every weekend."
"Yeah, well…I dunno."
"You'll do brilliantly, Ron," Hermione assured him, giving his hand a squeeze. Ron reacted rather ambiguously. Harry couldn't tell if his cheeks were red over the affectionate gesture Hermione had given him or that she had praised his goal-keeping skills. He wanted to ask what was up with the two of them—they didn't seem particularly comfortable around each other as they should've been (at least in his mind) if they had finally admitted that they liked each other. But then they were finally on speaking terms again, and that was definitely a step in the right direction.
"You guys have been working really hard. Angelina is a great captain. You'll win." Harry smiled encouragingly at his friend and watched as he stood with Hermione to leave.
"You guys are really broken up?" Ron asked almost skeptically.
Harry paused. "I think so."
"That's tough. But you know she'll come around."
"Maybe…maybe not. But look, don't worry about me. You go have a good match."
"Thanks, Harry. Listen—you know I'm coming with you tonight, right? Fred and George, as well."
"I don't know if that's such a-"
"Rubbish. I'm coming and that's the end, savvy?"
"Oh dear…" Hermione moaned. "Do you at least have a plan? Do you at least know what you'll do if Umbridge or somebody comes along?"
"Fred and George are quite brilliant in that way. I'm sure they've taken care of it, Hermione." Harry still could not let go of his stubborn resolve and she squared her shoulders at him.
"I'd like to tell you that you're absolutely bonkers-" Harry narrowed his eyes in warning. "But I'll simply say that I'll be rooting for you. If you must do this totally insane and rubbish thing, then be careful Harry. Protect yourself. Malfoy may be a little snot who deserves what he gets, but he'll likely try his best to hurt you badly. Just for the fun of it, you know?"
He softened at her concern, but did not loosen his determined gaze. "I know. He won't get the chance."
She gave him a watery smile and added: "We should use these books on dueling at the next meeting. What you said last night about having to fight, kids or not…it was the scariest yet truest thing I've heard come out of your mouth."
Perhaps thirty minutes later, as Harry read over a list of beginner's battle charms, his mouth sounding out incantations like "Incursus Artus," "Fracta Artus," "Aflligo," and a host of others, he fancied he heard, even so far into the castle, a resounding cheer that he hoped was for Gryffindor.
Gryffindor won the match.
Ron looked very happy but also very on edge when they returned to the common room almost an hour later. Harry had finished his reading, and was preparing to sneak off to the Room of Requirement to find his magical center and practice some of the Battle Charms he'd written down. He was just stepping out as they were stepping in, and he had no choice but to relent to Fred, George, Hermione, Ginny, and Ron as they overtook him at the portrait hole; all of them talking to him at once.
"Well, I didn't have much to do, really," Ron said last when Harry asked him how he did. "Angelina and the others pretty much made sure Hufflepuff didn't get near me. And Ginny caught the Snitch, even though we really didn't need her to—we were winning already."
"Great. That's just great guys." Harry mustered as much of a happy smile as he could and prepared to leave them again.
Fred dropped a hand on his shoulder, however. "Tonight's the night, mate."
Harry automatically looked at Ginny to see if she heard, and she had. She didn't look confused or curios, however, and he quickly realized that they had told her. He fully expected her to start scolding him any moment, but instead she merely watched him, her brows furrowed faintly.
"I know. I'm going to go practice."
"You want to take our book?" George asked. Harry thought about it, but shook his head reluctantly. "Thought not…" the twin said seriously. "Ron told us what you found out."
Fred clenched his jaw menacingly and shook his head. "We know it's your fight, but we'll be ready."
Harry didn't think he liked all of them knowing…what they knew. He shifted on his feet uncomfortably, looking from one to the other. They were all looking back at him…he felt strangely claustrophobic. "Where's Angelina?" he asked abruptly.
"Still down at the pitch in the changing rooms," Hermione informed him grimly. "She played so hard—it was kind of scary, actually, but she hasn't really talked much today."
"She didn't even crack a smile when we won," Ginny added. "She's really upset, Harry."
"I know…" he wanted to see her, but didn't know what would happen if he did now. He still had so much anger… "Listen, I'll see you guys at dinner, all right?"
Everyone gave him general answers of 'yeah' and he left them in the common room. He didn't know what he felt—having them all just quietly let him go off to practice methods of hurting a fellow student. He only knew that he didn't truly have Hermione or Ginny's support because they probably felt the same in thinking that he was making a mistake that could cost him his place at school. He knew that Ron, Fred, and George would stand by him, especially the twins, being that this whole thing had been their idea, but what he really truly wanted was…
"Angelina…" he muttered to himself as he walked past the wall three times.
Harry stood in the now completely empty Room of Requirement, facing a huge window that showered him in light from the frigid sky. His eyes were closed. He remembered details of the passage he read in the book, telling him to be still and breathe. He did this, his chest rising and falling ever-so-slightly. He cleared his mind. Still. Be still. Breathe.
After a long while, Harry felt himself slipping into cool darkness. He raised his wand hand, the wand pointed at his faint reflection in the window pane. He forced himself to let go of all thought. He tried to picture what it was like, the core of magical power resting within him. Was it strong? Was it light—brilliant light burning like a star in a galaxy of darkness…did it pulse with energy and grow brighter when he performed spells? How did the damned thing work? His anxiety was still there, and it poked at him for a few drawn out moments, but then he felt that too ebbing away.
Then, after a moment of nothing but blankness, he felt a ripple of power flutter through him. He almost opened his eyes in surprise, but maintained his stillness, and again came the flutter. His wand began to tremble slightly, and then it moved. This was not even a millimeter, but he felt the move; it was a tingling in the tips of his fingers and in the palm of his hand.
The rippling magic grew, and he noticed then that its origin was somewhere in his chest.
Harry felt the wand move again, and sure enough it was inching towards that point in his chest where the magic was beginning to swell and grow warm. The tiniest pressure began there, and then it grew to a pulse, and then thump, thump, thump, he heard it. It was warm and vibrating and the thumping magic ran all through his body from that point in his chest. Down to the tips of his toes and fingers, making his hair stand on end.
Harry felt something tug at him and he turned, eyes still closed, away from the window to the opposite wall. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. The magic was coursing all through him, but that point was the strongest by far and it gave Harry the strangest, most enabled and powerful sensation he'd ever felt. Harry realized something just as he got into duel stance. It was his heart! The thump-thumping was his heart, and as he opened his mouth and shouted "Terra Motus!" he felt the floor beneath him shake and then boom! He fell to the ground with the force of the spell, dust from the ceiling shivering down on him. Harry opened his eyes and saw that he had cracked the wall in front of him. The quake spell he read about in one of the books in the library seemed to have worked.
Realizing that perhaps the whole school had felt this as he had, Harry jumped to his feet and thought to himself I need "Dueling Through the Ages" again. Harry caught sight of it, having appeared for his convenience along with the other books he'd been reading sitting on the windowsill, and opened it up to the page he'd marked earlier. Quickly he skimmed down until he found what he was looking for.
"The heart is a center of magic that is perhaps the most powerful of the others. It suggests not only courage but also compassion, extreme loyalty, and above all honor. Its strength is in its rhythm—and just as the heart pumps blood through the body, the center there pumps magic. A wizard should count himself lucky if his center is found here… "
The book went on but Harry only read a little farther before he reached in his back pocket for his notes on the spells he wanted to work on, knowing full well that beyond this room Filch, Umbridge and the other people in the school were trying to figure out what had shaken the seventh floor. He was confident that he wouldn't be found, however. He had enlisted Dobby's help again to warn him should anybody stumble upon the room, and he had his Invisibility Cloak with him.
Harry practiced for several hours; performing and re-performing spells and charms that he had never even heard of before. There was little more he could do but make sure he was saying the incantations right, for he was alone and by the time he was done the walls around him had many cracks and dents and chunks missing from the force of the spells he used on them.
He practiced his dueling stances, using the diagrams in the book as his guide.
The diagrams instructed: "First stance; rise up and at the ready…" Harry stood up stone straight, his wand arm pointed out in front of him and his other arm raised above his head, the fingers on his hand forming an upside down V. "Second stance; mark for attack…" Harry lowered his free hand swiftly and brought in his elbow a little, the upside down V parallel to the elbow on his wand hand. He did these over and over again, and by the time he got to: "Third stance; down, aim, and execute…" and fell quickly to the floor on his side, his wand aimed acutely, his head raised slightly so he could see his target (the book on the windowsill), he was sweating.
Harry practiced his moves and spells until the light in the window grew dim and he was mopped with sweat, his nerves quivering with adrenaline. He felt really good. He almost forgot his anger. It just felt so empowering to be teaching himself something strategic like dueling, and he fancied that whenever he was in a real fight with a Death Eater, he could give them a good run for their money.
When Harry got to dinner his eyes automatically sought out and landed on Draco.
The Slytherin boy was sitting amongst his friends, as usual, but he had a somewhat pained expression on his pale face. Harry thought of Umbridge's punishment and lowered his gaze to the boy's hand. Sure enough, the skin there was cut and red. He could just make out fresh blood tracks along the scrawled letters. He couldn't make out what they spelled, but the satisfaction that rippled through him just then was immense.
Angelina sat with Katie, Alicia, and Lavender. She didn't look up at him when he passed, and he thought that was fine by him. Though, he could not ignore the sinking feeling in his chest as he sat down between Ginny and Fred. Hermione leaned it quickly, before Harry had even touched his goblet. "Filch is going crazy! Was that you?"
Harry shrugged, though he knew she was talking about the quake spell he'd used in the Room of Requirement. "What's he doing?" he asked, pouring himself some pumpkin juice and wiping his brow.
"He's been limping around here like mad, waving his boney arms about and screaming at everybody," Ron told him through a full mouth. "Umbridge's got a broomstick up her arse as well. I think they thought it was Peeves messing about with Snape's potions again, but that felt more like a giant sneezing to me."
Again, Harry shrugged. "I was practicing."
"You're all sweaty, Harry," Hermione made a face at him. "What were you doing up there anyway?"
"Spells and stuff. I learned some new tricks I wanna teach in our meetings." He paused; his fork poised near his mouth, and peered over at her. "I'll bet your magical center is probably your head…"
"What?" Hermione involuntarily reached up to stroke her forehead and when Ron snickered she fixed him with a look that shut him up quickly. "What's my magical center?" She didn't seem very pleased that he had read about something she hadn't.
Harry didn't answer her, however. He found himself watching Angelina. His fork was still waiting to deliver his food to his mouth.
"She won't talk to any of us," Fred whispered bitterly. "But I'm gonna make her talk, you just wait."
"Don't bother," Harry said automatically.
"You don't mean that, Harry." He turned to see Ginny looking at him sternly and his stony resolve faltered.
"No…I don't."
"You should apologize to her."
"I know."
"As soon as possible."
"Okay."
"Like, now?"
"Fine!"
Harry stood up from the table again, drawing looks from everyone, and walked off down to where Angelina was attempting to sound genuine when she laughed at some joke Lavender had made about Eloise Midgen. The beautiful Gryffindor looked up at him as he approached. As he had done when he first asked her about Malfoy's claims, Harry told her needed to talk to her now.
"Outside, please?"
"Okay…" Angelina sighed and stood up, walking with him out of the Great Hall. They found that little corridor again, and stood quietly regarding each other for a very long time, the voices of the eating students they'd left behind echoing out to them cheerily. "You're still going to do this?" she asked him, her voice very soft.
He swallowed, unable to keep his eyes away from hers, and nodded. "Tonight."
Angelina bristled for a second as if she wanted to yell at him, but instead she crossed her arms and looked down. "I wish you wouldn't…" was all she said.
"Angelina…"
"What if you really hurt him? Or he really hurts you? I don't think I can…" Angelina's words trailed off and she bit her lip. She looked tired and worried. He realized that he had not given her an easy time of it. He understood then that she was going through quite an ordeal—both with knowing that she was attacked and not being able to recall how or when or why, and also not being able to do anything about it. He could imagine what it must've felt like to have to look at Malfoy's face every day knowing what she knew about him. It only reinforced his resolve to do what he was doing.
"I'm sorry I scared you last night," he said, instinctually reaching up and dancing his fingers off her hair. "I didn't want to be so angry in front of you."
"You scared me. I've never seen that look in your eyes before, Harry—it wasn't like you at all." She looked up at him and was probably about to plead with him again but Harry felt a great, sweeping surge of longing rush through him and he pulled her to him, kissing her deeply and not a bit like the shy boy he'd been mere months ago.
Angelina gave a weak sigh and pressed herself into him. He backed her against the opposite wall and deepened the kiss still more, not really caring if they were seen. His roaming hands found the hem of her skirt; fingers hesitantly tracing the edges of her buttocks just beneath the fabric, kneading the skin on her thighs with the tips of his thumbs. "Just come up, hmmm, to your, uhhh, room with me and we can…ohhh…stay there all night if you want…Harry…" she whispered against his lips as he kissed her and allowed his hands to squeeze her in his favorite places. He was very tempted, and for a minute he didn't even think about what she was really asking, but pictured them in his bed again and maybe not stopping himself this time from letting her touch him down there…
He felt himself reacting to her and she reached around and clasped his back, clinging to him tightly. Harry let the tension seep out of him and the faint chattering coming from the Great Hall buzzed in his ear as the arousal within him buzzed in his groin.
"Please don't go, please just stay with me okay?" Angelina was moving against him—her movements were confusing at first but then he felt the sensation they caused and he made a noise, feeling an erection slowly developing. She undulated warm and writhing against him and pulled him to her—into her flesh only covered by her school things. He imagined her perfect, round, milk chocolate breasts in the moonlight under his covers that night, and he wanted to see them again now.
He was going to say yes. Yes. I'll come up to my room with you and we'll stay there for as long as you like, just keep doing that…but her gaze shifted from his and landed heavily on something just behind him.
Harry turned around and saw Malfoy standing there, looking something of a lankly white phantom.
He instinctively went for his wand but Angelina's hand stayed his and he realized that they were in the entrance hall and nearly every teacher at the school was just inside the Great Hall.
"Isn't that…sweet?" Malfoy said as if he were going to throw up. Harry said nothing. "Are you ready for tonight, Potter?"
Harry narrowed his eyes and let go of Angelina, stepping out of the corridor and marching right up to the other boy. "Go back and mind your own business, Malfoy."
"You didn't answer my question."
Harry could feel Angelina staring at them as he nodded silently. Malfoy stared at him for a long pause, his eyes flickering at Harry's. He supposed the boy was trying to determine if Harry were really, seriously going to fight him in a duel, but he only stared back coldly. Malfoy backed up and with the tiniest glance at Angelina he re-entered the Great Hall, holding his injured hand close to himself gingerly. Harry turned back to Angelina. She looked very disappointed.
"I'm sorry. I can't forget about it now. Malfoy's getting what's coming to him." She nodded grimly. Harry got the chills all of a sudden, and asked: "What you said after the meeting last night—'If you do this…?' "
Angelina's eyes swam, but she only said in a small voice: "I need time to work some things out. Just go, Harry. You've made your decision. I can't stop you." She hugged herself and turned to lean against the wall again, saying nothing more.
"No-you can't." He felt really rejected and totally sad right then, but merely ran a hand through his dark hair and walked away from her into the Great Hall.