Disclaimer: Nope.
Author's Note: Hello, and a very big happy new year to each and every one of my readers. I'm so very sorry for not updating in a few weeks - honestly, it's the holidays that got me this time. I got very busy with family, and even when all of that slowed down, my muse vanished for a little while simply because I just got so relaxed that I didn't want to do anything but rest. I'm really sorry about that.
Then, when I sat down to write this chapter, major writer's block hit me. I shouldn't have been surprised by that, considering the break I took. This is actually the third time I'm writing this chapter - the first two times were rubbish, and I couldn't finish what I was doing.
They say third time's the charm. ...
Wow, thank you so much for the amazing response to the last chapter as well! I'm so glad you enjoyed it!
As for it being creepy, that was my intent. It was meant to be creepy. Flint and his cohorts are completely awful people. They'll stop at nothing to disrupt all that is good and right. They're the kind of people I would absolutely despise in real life. When I write about fictional versions, though, it's morbidly fascinating to delve into their mindset. They certainly are a creepy bunch!
I'm glad I pulled off the realism of it, like what they know about the bigger plan and the operational security. I tried to make it as authentic as possible, as much as it can be in a fictional setting. A lot of these kind of creeps function on bravado, and Richardson has that in spades. He's certainly exceedingly interesting to write about.
Yay, a new reviewer! Thank you so much for all your opinions on my story and all the characters. I understand about the backstory with what those Mind Healers did to Dumbledore, and how intense that was to read. I'm really glad you came back to the story, and very much appreciate what you said about me writing from multiple povs. I know that this is all pretty big, but I hope you continue to enjoy it.
Okay, here comes my first chapter of 2025.
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"Spell invention?"
It should have been obvious to Harry, and he felt utterly ridiculous for not contemplating such a thing before.
It had now been almost three weeks since the parent-teacher conferences, and Harry had gone back to his regular routine with his tutors during the day, and Sturgis's regular evening gatherings at night. Although he still thoroughly enjoyed this routine, he was now more excited and happy about going back to Hogwarts in January. Those five days of the conferences had shown him that he was able to handle Hogwarts and all of its curveballs.
On this particular Friday morning, he and Sturgis were sitting at Grimmauld Place's kitchen table, partaking in their normal Defense Against the Dark Arts and History of Magic lesson. And Sturgis had just told him something thoroughly fascinating, yet unsurprising.
Sturgis smiled at Harry's expression. "Don't feel stupid," he told him. "To be honest, it's not something most of the wizarding world thinks about."
"But it's obvious, in hindsight," Harry said. "How do you even go about doing it?"
"It's all about channeling magic," Sturgis explained. "Let me ask you - when you cast a spell, what is your thought process?"
"Well ..." Harry considered his answer carefully. "I think about what I want the spell to do while I'm casting it."
Sturgis smiled, satisfied. "Exactly. Magic is all about thought as well as action. Think about the Patronus Charm. You can raise your wand and say the words, but unless you're thinking of a truly happy memory, it won't work."
Harry nodded. "It's like that with spells that hurt people, too, isn't it?" he asked quietly. "Moody ... er, no, Crouch ... told us last year that we could cast the Killing Curse on him, and unless we really meant it, he wouldn't get as much as a nosebleed."
"Correct," Sturgis said. "It couldn't have taken him down, even if the entire class pointed their wands at him and cast it at the exact same time."
Harry shuddered. "It must take a lot of hate and anger to get those spells to work."
Sturgis's eyes darkened for a second. "It does," he agreed. "Intense emotion often fuels magic, but it often depends on the spell. The Patronus Charm and the Killing Curse are complete opposites of each other when it comes to the emotion behind them, but a simple unlocking charm can be done without feeling much."
"So are you saying that ... people who invent spells can channel their magic into doing what they want it to do, and say an incantation while they're doing it?" Harry asked interestedly.
"Yes, although the process isn't as simple as that. But that's the bare bones of it," Sturgis said, looking proudly at him. "Honestly, most witches and wizards don't partake in such a thing - they rely on the spells that are already available to them. The people who actually invent them ..." He smiled. "They're ... well ... nerds."
Harry smiled at that as well. "There's nothing wrong with that."
"Not at all." In fact, Sturgis looked utterly enthused by the idea.
At the beginning of this conversation, Sturgis had informed Harry that he had finally been able to procure a meeting with Dillen Philand, who had taught Transfiguration during the time that McGonagall had been Headmistress of Hogwarts. It had taken a long time to make the appointment simply because his schedule had been extraordinarily busy.
"Everyone wants a piece of him," Sturgis had explained. "He's made himself pretty famous. He travels internationally, and goes to many important meetings. This afternoon, I'm going to interview him - and this evening, he will be joining us for our evening gathering."
Harry had felt excitement sweep over him at that. "So I'll be able to meet him, since it's during the evening gathering and not an official Order meeting?" he had asked, hardly daring to hope.
Sturgis had smiled reassuringly. "There's no reason to leave you out of this, Harry. Yes, there are some things that we talk about during Order meetings that you're not privy to, but I feel that you should be a part of this."
Not only was Philand a spell inventor, but he was working on combining magic with Muggle technology. Would this truly help in the war against Voldemort? Harry could only hope so.
He remembered the expressions of the Muggle parents as they walked around the corridors of Hogwarts. There was awe, wonder, and amazement - yet there was also fear, uncertainty, dread, and helplessness - the knowledge that they couldn't protect their children from the threats they faced.
Harry had heard only good things from his Gryffindor housemates concerning Dillen Philand. Several of the girls, including Lavender and Parvati, had gushed on and on about how handsome and good-looking he was, to which the boys rolled their eyes. "He's gorgeous," Parvati had whispered.
"He's got the most beautiful eyes," Lavender had added. "I could spend hours just staring into them."
"Oh, give it a rest," Dean had muttered exasperatedly. "Don't mind them, Harry," he had said. "I reckon you want to hear about what he's TAUGHT us, not how he LOOKS."
Harry had rolled his eyes, too. "I reckon you're right," he'd quipped, making the other boy laugh.
Now, as he and Sturgis sat at the table, Harry was thoroughly intrigued by the prospect of meeting Philand. Sturgis's eyes were shining, and Harry could see that he was yearning for the knowledge that Philand could give him. He looked completely animated, and it made Harry happy to see it. Sturgis always seemed to exude joy and positivity wherever he went, and the prospect of being able to interview Philand was something that he seemed totally prepared for.
The explanation concerning spell invention made utter sense to Harry, too. He honestly felt like he took magic for granted - and he hadn't meant to. Whenever he cast spells, he had never thought about how they'd come to be in the first place.
But Sturgis continued to make him feel better about it all. "Honestly, Harry, it's good to see you interested," he said. "For many people, such concepts go over their heads. They'd rather stick to the spells they know, and add ones to their arsenal that are already there for them."
"I'm really looking forward to meeting Philand," Harry said enthusiastically. "Do you really think ... that he could help with the war?"
Sturgis's expression grew deadly serious. "Voldemort truly underestimates the ingenuity of Muggles," he said fiercely. "It will be his downfall. I've never believed anything more."
Harry was once again floored by the intensity in Sturgis's words. He just stared at him, waiting for him to say more.
"The parent-teacher conferences, I believe, started a brand new era of progress," Sturgis stated clearly. "Although many still would prefer to stick to the status quo, I didn't fail to notice that some truly had their minds changed by the experience. They were actually able to speak to the Muggle parents, and many of their misconceptions were challenged, if not outright contradicted."
Harry saw the outright joy and hope on Sturgis's face. "I reckon this is going to be one of my favorite evening gatherings," he said truthfully.
Sturgis grinned at him - a warm, open grin, and Harry's spirits rose with it. "I'm looking forward to it too," Sturgis said. "Very much so."
xxx
It had been a really wonderful morning, and a pretty good afternoon as well. Harry's Occlumency lesson with Moody had gone quite well, all things considered. He was getting much better at the discipline, but he honestly knew he wasn't where he needed to be just yet. Moody, however, seemed to be pleased with Harry's progress, although he still worked him brutally hard. But Harry didn't complain at all - he knew how high the stakes were, and how important it was for him to learn this important art.
It was around 4 o'clock in the afternoon now, and Harry didn't know why, but a sudden, strange feeling swept over him. It was similar to how he felt right before something unpredicted was about to happen - and something unpleasant.
Of course, Harry had had his fair share of unpleasant experiences, and he often felt that he was too negative at times - he expected the worst to happen. Ever since Sirius had come into his life and helped him to heal this summer, Harry liked to think that attitude about life in general had gotten a lot better.
Still, Harry couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't quite right. He tried to rationalize it - maybe he was just paranoid, because it had been a really great few weeks, and as much as he had loved every minute of them, he was scared that Voldemort was lulling everyone into a false sense of security. He remembered the rage and hate that he had experienced through his connection to Voldemort, the absolute abhorrence that had swept through the monster at the knowledge of the parent-teacher conferences. Knowing Voldemort as he did, there was no way the disgusting creature would let such a thing go.
Why was his heart racing? He felt slightly spacey, as if he was just starting to be in the grip of some illness. But he knew the feeling was caused by his own anxiety, and he took deep breaths, willing himself to calm down.
This made no sense - he'd felt so good this morning. Where, exactly, were these feelings coming from? It was entirely disconcerting, and Harry didn't like it one bit.
A sudden thought came to him - did he subconsciously know that Voldemort was planning something? Was his connection to the monster somehow cluing him in on it? He had never thought the connection worked like that - but maybe ...
There was something so frightening about feeling so close to such a demon. It wasn't the kind of closeness Harry wanted in the least, but the connection was there. It sickened him, that he had part of Voldemort's soul inside him. The entire time Harry had been growing up, locked in his cupboard under the stairs, he had the soul of another being safely housed within him. He'd had no idea of his background then - all he knew was that whenever he was angry, scared, or upset, strange things would happen around him. He'd never been able to make sense of it - all he knew was that it made the Dursleys even more hateful and hurtful towards him.
Freak. He remembered the way his so-called "family" had constantly spat that word at him. If they had only known that he was even more of a "freak" than they'd originally thought. He vividly recalled the way that many students of Hogwarts had looked at him after it was known that he was a Parselmouth. They didn't actually say, "freak", but their eyes said that word even if their mouths didn't. There had honestly been times during that period when Harry had truly felt like one. He shuddered - how much of a "freak" would they think he was if they knew that he had part of Voldemort living inside him? The governors had agreed to have him back at Hogwarts, but if they knew the truth ...
Harry shuddered again, hoping to Merlin that they would never, ever find out. He filled his mind with Sirius, with Ron and Hermione, with Ginny, Fred, George ... with everyone that made him happy. He needed something to counteract the bad feelings flowing through him.
Then, he remembered the Hallway of Humanity. He remembered the feeling of the healing magic, remembered the date on that newspaper changing, remembered the sparkling, twinkling lights and the way his heart had burst within his chest. He had used those memories to push Voldemort out of his mind, to swim to the surface and rid himself of the foreign hate and anger that flowed through him like lava.
Moody had seen that memory during Occlumency, and the power it held over him. He remembered how the man's demeanor had softened after seeing that. "Use that memory, boy." His voice was gruff, but it was clear that the memory had affected him, too. "You'll need it."
And so, Harry continued to think of it as he traversed upstairs to find Sirius. Maybe it was true that he was paranoid, but he needed to let his godfather know what his instincts were telling him. He honestly felt like something was going to happen today, although he couldn't begin to know what.
He found Sirius in his bedroom, flipping through a book. He smiled when he saw Harry. "Hey, kiddo," he said warmly. "I take it your Occlumency lesson is over? How did it go?"
"It went pretty well," Harry replied truthfully. "But ... I ... er ..."
Sirius was instantly on alert, and he put the book down on his nightstand. "What's wrong?" His tone was immediately urgent and concerned.
"I don't know." Harry took a deep breath as his heart began to race again. "I just have a ... bad feeling."
He knew it wasn't what Sirius wanted to hear, but he had to be honest. He felt terrible as Sirius's face lost some of its color. "Is it ... is it Voldemort?"
"I think so," Harry admitted. "But I don't know what." Suddenly feeling vulnerable, he looked at Sirius, his green eyes meeting his godfather's gray ones.
"Come on," Sirius said, instantly standing up and beckoning for Harry to come with him. Harry was immediately comforted as they went downstairs, and sat in their customary position in the drawing room.
They sat on the couch, and Sirius pulled Harry close. The boy rested his head on the man's shoulder, and he did his best to relax.
"Can you explain what you're feeling?" Sirius asked, clearly worried but not wanting to pry too much. Harry could see that he was trying to hide just how much Harry's "bad feeling" was disconcerting him.
"I feel spacey ... and really, really tired. And there's this ... jittery feeling in my stomach," Harry explained. "And my heart won't stop racing."
"Are you sure it's not just the after-effects of your Occlumency lesson?" Sirius asked, and Harry realized that he was trying to rationalize this, just as Harry had done. He wanted to do everything possible to convince himself that this was nothing to worry about.
"I ... I don't know." Harry closed his eyes, and Sirius began carting his fingers through Harry's hair. The boy was thoroughly comforted by this; it had become so normal for his godfather to do this when he knew Harry was under stress.
The two sat in silence for a while, because what else could they say? Sirius didn't force Harry to describe his feelings further, because how could he possibly explain them? He only knew what he knew for now - trying to figure this out further wouldn't achieve any results.
Harry didn't know how long he had been resting against Sirius, and he wasn't aware of when it happened, but his breathing evened out, his anxiety waning as exhaustion swept over him. His mind was tired from his Occlumency lesson, and the added worry of the strange premonition hadn't helped his energy level either. He allowed the darkness to take him into its comforting embrace.
xxx
Harry felt exhilaration and power pump through him as he stood outside of a house that he had longed to infiltrate for so long now. A lipless smile appeared on his snakelike face as he made his way to the door.
He had done it. He was actually here, at this house. The man who lived here would rue the day he'd ever crossed him.
He allowed the thrill of his victory to flow through his veins as he simply stood at the door for several minutes. He needed time to soak this in, after all. The pure, malicious joy that radiated from him was addictive, and he reveled in it. He breathed in the air - it smelled like rain. The ground beneath his feet was soggy from the downpour, but he would never concern himself with something so trivial. There were much more important things to be getting on with.
Smirking, Harry knocked on the door, and he resisted the urge to laugh loudly. Instead, he simply snickered quietly. The man inside this house would never expect him to knock. He'd heard so much about the man's stoicism and willingness to face anything, but oh, how would he feel when he realized that Harry was at his front door?
And then, he was there. Sturgis Podmore, the new leader of the pathetic organization that called themselves the Order of the Phoenix, was standing before him. Harry felt hate and rage pulse through him as, for only a split second, shock marred the man's features, but in the next second, it was gone. Sturgis composed himself, his face becoming resolute, his eyes intent as he raised his wand.
Harry smirked, his spidery fingers holding his own wand, his snakelike face holding an expression of wicked mirth. "Why, good afternoon, Sturgis," he said pleasantly, adopting a manner of one who was good friends with the owner of the house, but the malice was lying beneath it, so much malice.
"Tom." That one word broke through Harry's consciousness, and he felt his anger only grow stronger.
"You dare ..." Harry's voice was a hiss, the air growing hot around him due to his rage. Waves of power crashed over him as he basked in the feeling of magic.
"Yes." Sturgis faced him, unafraid, defiant. "I dare."
There was silence for an endless moment as the two enemies faced each other down. The air was saturated with power, the tension suffocatingly thick. There seemed to be no wind, and any other noise seemed nonexistent. The world held its breath as it waited for one of the two wizards to make the first move.
It happened so suddenly, and both acted at the exact same time. "Crucio!" Harry shouted.
"Furnunculus!" Sturgis yelled.
xxx
"Harry? Harry?"
Sirius had felt dread mounting as, only minutes after Harry had fallen asleep on his shoulder, he started thrashing around and moaning. Sirius had begun to realize what the differences were between Harry's nightmares and his visions - after all, he'd seen him have both. The most noticeable difference, obviously, was the fact that when Harry was having a vision, the scar on his forehead seemed to light up. It was disconcerting, yet it would never, ever pull Sirius away from him. In fact, it only made him cling tighter. He needed Harry to remember who he was, and that he was loved.
He'd called his name repeatedly, rubbing his back, stroking his hair as if trying to anchor him to the here and now. He spoke to him quietly, holding him tight as shudders racked through the boy's body, as helpless moans escaped his mouth. He hoped that this would somehow help Harry break out of Voldemort's sick, sinister mind.
How had Harry known? It had thoroughly frightened him when the boy had told him he had a "bad feeling". Sirius had always known that his godson had good instincts, but how had he known? Had his connection to Voldemort warned him of such?
He shuddered to think of what would happen if Dumbledore, not Sturgis, was the leader of the Order now. He wouldn't have put it past the manipulative old bastard to use Harry's connection on purpose, in order to learn what Voldemort was doing. He would have been willing to risk Harry's mental health and sanity, if not his very life. If Voldemort found out ...
And what was even more heartbreaking about the whole thing was that he knew that Harry would have gone along with it, would have accepted it. He would have thought it was worth the sacrifice. He would have thought it his duty to help the war effort, especially because he still blamed himself for some of the things Voldemort had done, including the fact that he had returned in the first place, because even though Harry had been more than unwilling, the monster had still been able to use his blood.
Sirius knew that Harry had made a lot of progress, that he now believed his life was worth living, and that he knew he was loved. But he also couldn't deny that the Dursleys had left a lasting impression. It was one thing to be entirely selfless, as Harry was - there didn't seem to be a selfish bone in the boy's body. But it was another thing completely to jump into danger so quickly, to have no self-preservation instincts at all - the Dursleys seemed to have bled those out of him. Sirius had no doubt that Harry would risk his own sanity, again and again, to stop Voldemort. He would rather do it all himself than let any member of the Order risk themselves. This knowledge killed Sirius inside, over and over and over again.
But the fact that Sturgis was now Order leader was such a comfort, because Sirius knew Sturgis wouldn't risk Harry like that. Plus, what if Voldemort found a way to use the connection as a trap? It wasn't at all beyond the realm of possibility. Surely Dumbledore would have considered that possibility as well? Would he have still found a way for Harry to use the connection to help the Order?
Suddenly, Harry bolted up, his face covered in sweat, his entire body shaking. Sirius clutched him tightly, saying his name repeatedly, as if reminding him that he was, in fact, Harry, and not Voldemort. "It's okay, Harry," he whispered, dread mounting as he waited for the inevitable, for Harry to tell him what he had seen and experienced.
"Order Headquarters," Harry gasped, terror in those beautiful green eyes. "Sturgis ... Voldemort ... they're duelling."
For a moment, Sirius's entire world halted; it felt like everything was gone. It was all at a standstill as the horrific words echoed again and again in his mind. Sturgis. Voldemort. Duelling.
No. No. No. No. No. Not Sturgis. Not Sturgis. This was the worst. Sirius had spent so much time worrying about the man - he was one of those people that they just couldn't, couldn't, couldn't lose. He was the Order's strength, he was the one who lifted them up, he was the one who inspired them, who motivated them. He was sometimes the only reason why the Order felt that they could keep going at all. His nightly gatherings were utterly amazing, and he gave so much light to all of them.
And Sirius knew how much he was helping Harry. The boy had grown so much more confident in his spellwork, and his demeanor as a whole was better because of him. Sturgis believed so firmly, without any doubt at all, that Voldemort would be defeated, and his belief and faith was helping Harry tremendously. This ... this couldn't be happening.
Sirius had jumped off the couch before he even realized he had. He rushed to the fireplace, Harry jumping into action less than a heartbeat later. He was shaky on his feet, but Sirius knew that telling him to stay put wouldn't do any good. His eyes were wide with fear, his face the picture of horror.
But right before Sirius threw Floo powder into the fire, Harry spoke. "Sirius ..." he said, sounding like he was starting to break himself out of his terrified state. "Isn't ... isn't Order Headquarters under the Fidelius Charm?" he asked slowly. "Wouldn't that mean that Kingsley ... isn't he Secret Keeper?"
Sirius's eyes widened at that. He'd been so lost in his fear that he hadn't thought about the logistics of Voldemort finding Order Headquarters so easily. Kingsley ... he was indeed Secret Keeper.
Sirius had observed the friendship between Sturgis and Kingsley - not only now, but during the First War, when Sturgis had been Sirius's mentor during Auror training. Their friendship was rock solid, and honestly reminded him of what had been between Sirius and James. And Sirius had always known that he would die before betraying James and Lily. If necessary, he would have taken his own life before letting anything happen to them.
And Kingsley had helped Sirius, too. He'd been instrumental in assisting him to evade the Ministry. He'd been the one who kept lying to them, putting his career at risk. He'd thrown the Aurors off the scent, telling Scrimgeour that Sirius was on some distant island when he was really in Britain. Without Kingsley, Sirius dreaded to think of what could have happened. Fudge had ordered the Dementor's Kiss if he was found - it didn't bear thinking about. As much as Sirius was unafraid of going up against Voldemort and the Death Eaters, he couldn't deny that he had a healthy fear of Dementors. Being around them for twelve years ... it was no exaggeration to say it was a horrific form of torture.
Something about this entire thing didn't make sense. He was failing to put the puzzle pieces together, and it felt very different to when he'd gone to Peter's hideout and found him missing, but there had been no sign of a struggle. Those puzzle pieces had been there all along, but he'd been so convinced that it was Remus who was the spy. Merlin, he had been so, so stupid, and so prejudiced. Remus had been one of his best friends, yet when it mattered most, he'd suspected him.
But this seemed different. He couldn't imagine Kingsley betraying Sturgis, unless ...
Had Voldemort somehow gotten a hold of him? Had he captured him and forced him to tell? Merlin, what kind of torture would he have inflicted on him, in order to make him ...
But Sirius had always thought that Kingsley was even stronger than him. He'd withstand any kind of torture in order to preserve the Order's secrets, and to keep Sturgis safe. Merlin ...
The only other possibility was the one that Sirius had briefly thought about only minutes ago. What if Voldemort had done this on purpose? He obviously knew about his connection with Harry, as he'd sent him the false memory of Cedric being murdered by Harry. He shuddered ... what if he'd realized how those lives had been saved during those attacks on Muggles? What if he'd waited for Harry's mind to be vulnerable, at the moment he fell asleep, and ...
He bellowed the name of Moody's home, and the next thing he knew, the ex-Auror's grizzled face was in the fireplace. "What is it, Sirius?" His voice and expression were alert as he went instantly into warrior mode. "What's happened?"
"Harry had a vision," Sirius said at once. "Voldemort's duelling Sturgis at Headquarters."
Moody immediately shook his head. "I'm coming through," he said before the fireplace roared, and he stepped out. He brushed himself off as he stood up more quickly than Sirius would have ever thought he could.
"It's a fake," Moody said instantly as he stumped over to a shaking Harry, laying a hand on his shoulder. "I was just speaking with Kingsley not two minutes ago." He met Harry's terrified eyes. "Kingsley Shacklebolt would NEVER betray Sturgis Podmore," he said strongly.
Mad-Eye Moody was known to be suspicious of everyone. Even if there was only a tiny speck of doubt about someone's loyalty, Alastor Moody wouldn't rest until the situation was settled. The fact that he, of all people, wasn't even the least bit suspicious of Kingsley's loyalty spoke volumes. There was not even a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.
A huge flood of relief swept over Sirius, one so massive that he was almost bowled over by it.
"As a matter of fact, Kingsley is very excited by the prospect of Sturgis interviewing Philand," Moody said.
"I ..." Harry started, not sure what to say as the implications of what had just happened began to sink in. "Voldemort ..."
The fear for Sturgis's life began to ebb as Sirius put an arm around Harry and pulled him close, kissing the top of his head. He honestly didn't care that Moody was there, and the other man said nothing about it, which he could only be grateful for.
"He knows," Harry whispered, and Sirius could see a new kind of fear beginning to take hold. "I reckon he knows that I can see into his head and know what he's doing."
"We can't be certain of that," Sirius said, because at this point, he wanted to believe anything but. "He sent you that dream about Cedric on purpose - he obviously knows about the connection already. Perhaps he was just testing it, and doesn't know what happened with those Muggle attacks."
"No." Moody shook his head - it was apparent that he agreed with Harry. "I reckon he worked out who interrupted those attacks."
Harry's face had gone pale at Moody's agreement. "It was indeed a test," the boy whispered, sounding horribly sure of the fact. "He wanted to see if I'd fall for it or not, and whether you'd go running to Order Headquarters."
"He's starting small," Moody said, also sounding sure of his conjecture. "He knew that it wouldn't be hard to suss out whether this one was real or fake."
Harry's face lost the rest of its color. "Oh Merlin," he breathed. "What if ... now that he knows he can send me fake visions, he just keeps doing it? What if he makes me see ... all kinds of things that aren't true?"
The boy's expression was one of horror, and Sirius was filled with a boiling, roaring anger at Voldemort. Fear pulsed through his being as he tried to come to terms with exactly how the monster could torture his godson even when he was far, far away from him.
Moody grabbed Harry's shoulders, a grounding force in the maelstrom that was Harry's emotions. "Breathe, Potter." His voice was sharp, but not without compassion. It broke through to the boy, and he stared at him immediately.
"This, boy, is where Occlumency comes in," Moody said. "You need to work harder than ever now not to let him penetrate your mind, your defenses. This, unfortunately, was an inevitable conclusion. Those of us who know about the connection were all prepared for this."
Sirius felt his hackles rise at Moody's tone, but Harry seemed to understand that the man meant no offense by his harshness. "I know," he whispered. "I really am trying with Occlumency. It's just that ... sometimes, I forget to clear my mind before I fall asleep," he confessed quietly. "I'm sorry."
Moody's face softened marginally. "Now you know how important it is."
"I do." Harry looked at Moody directly. "No matter what Voldemort tries to do now, I don't regret saving the lives of those innocent Muggles, no matter what it might cost me."
This statement proved Sirius's point exactly, that Harry was willing to risk his very life and sanity in order to save lives. It wouldn't matter to him if Voldemort tortured him with false images every single night - he wouldn't trade those lives for anything in the world.
He felt his throat constrict, and he tried to say something, but no words came out. He felt like the fear, pride, horror, caring, and love would simply burst out of him if he began to speak. He felt so full of emotion that he truly didn't know how his body could possibly hold it all.
But before any of the room's occupants could say anything else, a silvery cat Patronus suddenly materialized into being, and it spoke in Sturgis's voice, the message direct and leaving no room for misinterpretation.
"Alastor. Diagon Alley is under attack. Come now."