A/N 30th June: the ending of this chapter has been changed!
No this is not a new chapter, and I'm sorry if you're disappointed, however there is a good reason for my re-posting.
I was actually considering quitting the story - after giving it some kind of ending of course - because I've fallen out of touch with it, life being so busy at the moment. My mind was nearly made up and then I happened to take another look, and realised that even though I had some wicked plot curves planned with the previous ending of this chapter, the kind of anguish I had in store for Harry was not giving me the right energy. And so we now have a different ending... and more importantly, an author willing to actually continue this once more.
Therefore, because the ending has changed so much and I don't want you to go into the future chapter 31 unawares whenever it arrives (yes I'm currently writing it, so hopefully not long), and also because I was on the brink of quitting this altogether, I feel the need to re-post, re-start, hear from you again if you want to say hi *waves*. I hope you'll like this ending as well.
Also:
Warning: disturbing scenes in this chapter, some dubious consent ahead. Even though my purpose is to always keep you on your toes, I agree with a reader pointing out this needs some announcement.
Chapter 30
Sitting at the table's end in the kitchen was Remus Lupin, eating lunch. He was wearing the kind of brown garb from his teaching days and looked healthy, tanned. Perhaps he had access to Wolfsbane again.
And next to him… pink-haired Tonks.
Harry stopped, tried to place her in his mind. Alive when she was supposed to have died at the battle of Hogwarts. And there had been someone else from the Order who turned out to be much healthier than expected, though he couldn't recall who.
Tonks grinned. "Hey, Harry." She cocked her head to catch his unfocused gaze. "You all right there?"
"Hi?" His surprise had made it a question.
"Great to see you again, Harry," Remus joined in warmly. Harry nodded and blinked his eyes back to the witch.
Tonk's eyes were pink today. "So," she winked. "I feel chipper."
He grinned. "You look great for a dead person."
"That's got to be the worst compliment I ever heard of."
Lupin chuckled. "Nymphadora is quite the shape-changer." Tonks elbowed him in the side. "Ouch. Come sit, take lunch with us." He gestured to a third plate across from him.
Harry did so, drawing in a sharp breath as Tonks' arm feathered lightly over his shoulders. The tension was apparently obvious, because she quickly let go. He wanted to sink below the grey kitchen tiles.
"Sorry 'bout that," she said softly. Lupin's gaze was too sharp again.
Harry took a sip of pumpkin juice – it seemed like ages since he'd drank the stuff. It was such a rare day among friends, and his disturbed performance was spoiling it. "It's fine," he said after unsticking his teeth.
"No worries, we all get the battle jitters now and again. People come here to recuperate from the horrors on the job, in fact. There you go." She'd been lading his plate with scrambled eggs, then scooped a ladle of thick green soup into one of the cosy landscape-teamed dishes, reminding him of their owner.
"Thanks," he murmured, then dug in: he was rather hungry.
Tonks and Remus casually resumed their conversation, which was about the measures he had put in place to protect Muggle areas against roaming werewolves. Harry let it all wash over him, basking in the relative normalcy. When he looked up again it seemed something had passed between them, because they were watching him rather closely again.
"What is it?"
"The colour of your eyes," Remus said. "Something is different."
He sat back. He hadn't thought of how to explain this.
Lupin looked away for a second and seemed to be clenching his teeth behind pressed lips, like he wanted to take the words back, then said: "I don't mean... We're so glad you're alright Harry. As much as you can be right now. Albus told us his... interference has been successful."
Tonks took over: "But we never doubted you, Harry."
"You're not to blame for any of this," Remus said quickly, nervous. What had they been told, exactly?
Tonks' gaze urged him. "We don't care, obviously, Harry."
Lupin bend towards him, commiserating. "How could she put up with me, if she cared about appearances?"
Harry looked between them, noting the attempt at distraction. "You're an item? That's great, you guys."
"Thanks, Harry," Tonks eyed her boyfriend, or perhaps fiancee. "Furry guy here needs a bit of ego-boosting now and then, don't he?"
Remus rolled his eyes. Harry grinned. "I can tell you're a good match."
"Alright, what about the vampires?" Tonks once more continued where she left off, businesslike.
Remus hesitated. Harry straightened, bracing to stand. "I'll leave you two to talk Order stuff."
The man's bobbing throat turned red. Tonks seemed surprised with the lack of answer. "Really? You were just saying…." That the interference had been successful, but I wouldn't trust me either.
Lupin closed his eyes. "Years of paranoia I can't just switch off. But please stay Harry, we'll finish this later."
Tonks straightened in her seat. "Perhaps you're right, sorry Harry." She grimaced at him. "The Dark Dork could read your mind later, and we've got to keep the missions under lids as much as possible."
Harry resumed cutting his omelet, although it looked too heavy for his sour stomach. She reminded him of Moody – the other supposedly dead person.
"Speaking of constant vigilance… I heard Moody helped with the attack yesterday."
Tonks nodded. "Yes, he's decided to fake his death as well. But he's already been spotted by Death Eaters, so we though we'd ask him to help get you out." She saw something in his face apparently because next she said: "No one else who died at the battle made it back, I'm afraid."
Lupin broke in, clearly stuck on the previous topic: "I'm sorry, Harry, it all went so fast, I still have to get to grips with how marvellous it is that we got you back. And then you even managed to shake off Riddle." He shook his head at the remains of his pie. "It's not fair to you that I keep expecting the worst to happen in every situation. I mean," he shot Harry a frown. "I know a bit about how it feels when people don't trust you, no matter what you try."
"Don't worry about it, Remus. It's no problem."
Tonks looked between them. "I like the new look." She promptly changed hers to a brownish mesh of green and red. It was quite disturbing up close.
"Ouch," he peered. "That's how mine look now?"
Tonks smirked. "You know the bathroom has a mirror?"
He dragged a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I try to avoid it."
"Up close they've got little red bits in them." Harry felt an air current moving under the table; Remus signalling, clearly wanting to avoid any more sensitive subjects.
She ignored this: "How come your eyes have changed, you think?"
"It was the Dementor… thing, I guess," he thought up on the spot. It was halfway to the truth. He was about to call it a Dementor attack, but that would sound like an accusation.
Tonks' eyes widened as she nodded around a bite of her bread. She shook her head. "Only Albus would dare such a thing…" She looked ready to ask more but swallowed it with another bite of bread.
"How are things with you?" he tried.
"Well, since I'm no longer an Auror, I have more time on my hands to help the Order. I'm doing undercover work in several places." When he gestured with his fork for her to continue, she said: "I try to help the ministry with the interpretation of the new laws for example, so that in practice they'll be less, less…"
"Sadistic?" Remus offered.
"Less cruel. It's also about trying to get our people inside more of the Dark Dork's networks." She shrugged, looking morose. "We can do little things, but we can't turn the tide of anti-Muggle and anti-Muggleborn measures."
"What are they-"
His breath was gone in the next instant and he had to take hold off the table's edge, reeling at the rage suddenly burning along his scar. He planted his elbows on the table, face burrowed in his hands.
Lupin said: "I think you got out of bed too soon."
"Slow breaths, Harry, as slow as you can," Tonks said behind him, placing a hand on his arm. Harry followed her advise, nauseous from the pain.
Remus crouched down on his other side. "Is your scar hurting?"
At his nod he whispered to Tonks: "Can you get a painkiller from the stocks?" When Tonks had gone Remus went on: "Think of… think of flying, or Quidditch. Your last game, where did you see the snitch?"
He couldn't remember. But he could imagine it alright, seeing the snitch on the other side of the pitch. Accelerating, the rush in his stomach, dodging bludgers... It helped with breathing.
"Here." Tonks put something cold inside his palm. He swallowed the little liquid within – the glass was mostly empty. The stuff worked quickly though, dulling the burn a little. The feelings on the other side of the link remained, impatience and fury wrapped into steely outer calm, making him tremble.
"Thanks."
"No problem, let's get you to the couch." Tonks looked about to lend a hand but he gestured her away. Lupin gave a wry smile and went to clear the table with a few charms. "Let us know if you need anything."
Harry sagged onto the brown leather thing, which proved a lot harder than the cosy couches in the common room. He curled up as much as possible, then studied the landscape painting on the wall opposite, willing the nausea to subside. In the end he had to close his eyes.
888
He was looking sideways at a beautiful, polished desk. The fireplace set into the rounded stones was warm at his back. It was the Headmaster's. One figure stood behind it, one in front. He studied the long arms of her cloak for a moment, which sported yellow badgers.
"We are still unable to trace him," the woman was saying into the quiet.
Obviously, since Dumbledore's blasted bird had taken the mudblood boy. Apparently the old headmaster was still taking good care of his Gryffindors.
Her eyes were not leaving Harry's. She had always been wary of him, he recalled, ever since their school days, similar to how Dumbledore never gave him a moment's reprieve.
"You are not wearing your House colours, madame."
"That's right," Minerva said with obviously forced calm. "Today's a Hufflepuff day."
If he thought about Albus' interference too much, he'd snap her neck on the spot and that would be a waste of a Hogwarts teacher. To resist the urge his eyes glided over the portraits of former Headmasters and Headmistresses, many of whom quickly looked away, suddenly feverishly busy with the hobby's painted in them. After all, when she went to check on the Thomas child this morning due to Malfoy's surreptitious enquiry after a school project, McGonagall could hardly have suspected the danger. Severus wouldn't dare to oppose him so directly either, his sympathy for the students notwithstanding. And all this for a wayward brat.
Harry could feel the Crucio that wanted out, but poured his rage onto the hearth instead. The flames shot out and upwards unto the rough masonry, giving off a burst of heat. His gaze settled on one of Dumbledore's silly winding instruments which Severus had ensured him could be of use someday.
Cutting off the flames, Harry let out a slow breath and hissed: "Bring me one of your Hufflepuff delinquents, then. Someone from Potter's classes." Yes, I know you're protecting our enemies' children from those loyal to me.
His ministerial advisors had cautioned strongly against the killing of Hogwarts children, when he'd discussed his impatience with Lucius. Never mind the path of terror riddled with corpses that had led him here; no, continental Ministers would really be drawing the line where the murder of children was concerned. An adult then, but there was no reason he couldn't hint at further escalation, since Potter was thickheaded: next time, it will be your classmate.
His lips twitched as he sensed Snape's rare hesitation, undoubtedly from knowing nothing fortunate would befall this student. Minerva stayed motionless, appearing to have foregone breathing for the moment, until a gesture from Snape got her moving, her mouth a grim line as she was forced to pass close by Harry to reach the door.
Harry took in the bits of grey in the Death Eater's hair. "Why don't you get me a bit of that brandy that you keep back there, Severus, and take one for yourself as well."
Snape seemed to fall into himself. He managed not to rattle the crystal decanter, of course, or the glasses as he filled them and placed one in front of him, sitting behind the desk. Harry took the visitors chair, which put them exactly at eye-level. He felt the edge of his mouth move upwards, amused despite himself when next his contrary servant met his eyes and raised his glass in silent salute, before throwing back the shot. Harry took a sip of the outstanding liquid.
"Getting a bit rusty there, my friend. Did you think I wouldn't notice?" Harry drew closer. "Do you believe that because I granted you the honour of this position, you can do as you please? Without consulting me?"
"Not at all, my Lord," Snape answered, calm. He was silent for a beat, undoubtedly weighting words from his slippery repertoire. "It is true I've been following up on children complaining of harassment by their fellow students, my Lord, together with Minerva. We do not want to encourage bad behaviour from the student population so early in the year. I realise now it was presumptive of me to think the students' affairs not worthy of your attention."
"Crucio."
Delicious spikes sizzled through his wand arm. The potions master bore it in silence. Harry felt some of the tension leave his arms. He cancelled the curse when Snape's breathing had turned heavy. The man was a fast learner: he wouldn't presume again.
"Harry?"
He jerked upwards, eyes widening at the voice that had come out of nowhere –
"Potter!"
Again the voice: "It's his scar… Harry? You in there somewhere?"
Harry was roughly shaken out of his dream, or vision, feeling only his own fear, but immediately his eyelids wanted to close again, dragging like boulders.
"No, keep them open." His body was being moved, but it was a long way from this: the tower chamber, a single-minded focus that now changed from fury into eagerness, joy...
He knew that voice. The Black cousin. She was supposed to be dead.
"Where are you, Potter," Harry snapped in Parseltongue – no it was Voldemort...
"Augmenti."
Harry gasped at the sudden cold on his face and he flew up into a sitting position. He threw his elbow in front of his eyes, the green edges of the school robes he still wore pressing against his eyes. But he'd already glimpsed Tonks and Lupin standing before the couch.
"He's here," Harry warned them, groaning as his scar flamed up. Please be gone already…"When I have my eyes closed, don't say anything."
A wave of fatigue hit him once more, similar to when Ron was heavily injured and had pulled all the energy from him through the Mark. It was more pleasant this time and-
"Oh no," Remus murmured. "Should we get-"
- his eyes were shut before he realised it, his mind snatched back like Apparation. Standing in front of the hearth, his eyes were focused on Dumbledore's pensieve. Now Voldemort's voice did not feel like his own any longer, their duality sharpened in his mind – it was clear Harry was the intruder even though his own mouth seemed to hiss:
"Was that the rebel werewolf? Tell me your location."
He wanted to think of anything else, but it was shared between their minds in seconds.
"Ah, I didn't think she'd dare. She will suffer for it."
Afterwards he realised that that was blessedly his last thought for a while.
888
He wondered how he could feel so warm all of a sudden, then sat up in an unfamiliar bed. The room's identity came to him slowly. He considered perhaps someone of professor McGonagall's age liked her rooms a little toasty. The sun was still visible out the window and he wondered why he'd taken a nap. He must have, since he could remember Tonks and Remus' conversation following him right into his dreams, and Tonks trying to wake him up.
His wand dug into his thigh and so he pulled it out. He had not made much use of it yet since the Dementor attack. He imagined being free to do as he wished now, then whispered: "Expecto Patronum."
Nothing happened. Just days ago he had managed a full corporeal one. He took a slow breath, then tried again, but not even a wisp emerged.
Perhaps when he stopped feeling so hunted, then. He was morbidly curious what a Morsmordre might get him, but bit down on his tongue to stop the word from escaping – one thing at a time.
He focused on the vast feeling of pleasant light-headedness, and the headache underneath. The answer to that was nearly on his tongue but still, just out of reach. And he was hungry. He couldn't remember being so hungry in some time. That was another thing his nerves had kept him from before, which he had the luxury to feel now, just like the fatigue.
Some time later he jolted up, having nearly slipped back into sleep. Despite the warm-cold feeling it gave off the ridge of his scar felt normal. He looked away from his trembling hands. Then he stood and went downstairs. It had to be close to dinnertime anyway.
888
He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, taking in the many people he knew, the smiles. Albus, Tonks, Fleur and Bill sat on one side, Remus, Hagrid and Hermione on the other. He would be content just to keep staring but someone – Hermione – saw him and gestured him to the table. She squeezed his hand when he sagged into the chair next to hers.
Something savoury was being passed around, steaming from the plates. Up close he saw it was a beef and pumpkin stew.
"There you go, Harry," Bill gave him a filled plate, "With compliments from Molly."
Harry tasted it. "It's really good, thanks."
Bill inclined his head, and Harry braced for a question – or five – that never came.
"Glad to have ya back." Hagrid gave him what was probably meant as a pat on the shoulder, though luckily he saw the giant hand coming in time to keep the wince off his face.
Harry returned the smile. As he dug in he failed to spot any lingering glances, so they must have gotten better at them.
Conversation resumed around him: Bill was discussing goblin politics with Tonks and the Dark Lord's repeated failures in gaining control over Gringotts; Hermione was asking Hagrid politely about Grawp, and Fleur seemed to be answering a question from Dumbledore, also about the wizarding bank:
"I work zere part-time for my Eenglis. Eet eez an interesting place now, wiz seeing ze way ze goblins resist Vous-Savez-Qui, even zough zey have mountains of gold on offer."
Ginny had called her 'Phlem', he remembered, and if Ron were here he would be eyeing Fleur a little too much while Hermione or Harry would give him a kick below the table. If everything had gone as it was supposed to.
Bill noticed his wandering looks after a while with a raised eyebrow. Harry whispered: "I'm sorry Bill, about Ron. And- and of course Ginny."
Bill nodded. "Nothing you need to be sorry about though. The man who does, well… Sooner or later he'll reckon with the wards I made just for him." His gaze had turned intense. Bill took a sip from his butter beer – Harry's plate only had water – then continued, invitingly:
"You must be glad to be out, right?"
"Very."
"I heard he visited you sometimes at Hogwarts."
"Yes. He also summoned me to his place a few times."
Bill's gaze stayed steady which made it easy to go on. "Sometimes he would check up on me. One time he… he taught me how to do wandless magic."
Only because he was watching for it, did he see Bill's eyes widen just a fraction. "Well, good," the man decided. "That means he's still underestimating you."
Next to him Hermione's spoon had frozen in front of her mouth.
"Don't approve?" Harry confronted her with a stale smile. "He's a good teacher, you know."
Her eyes flew between his own, and only then did he remember how they looked now. Bill hadn't let on at all, although he did work with all sorts of beings, of course.
Hermione didn't take the bait: "I imagine so. He wanted to teach, anyway."
"Really?" said Bill.
"It's how the position got cursed. Perhaps you should take a look at that, Bill."
Bill chuckled. "I've encountered some exotic things during my time in Egypt, but a cursed position…" He shook his head a little at the thought.
"Are you visiting from Shell Cottage, or will you be staying here? It's a lot closer to your work, I guess" Hermione asked him next.
Harry took a few deep breaths when only simple questions kept coming his way. Apparently no strong opinions would be dealt out today. Another thing that cheered him was that he seemed to have let go of that constant worry that Voldemort would read his mind later. Everyone here was grown-up and knew this risk.
After dessert only Hagrid and Dumbledore remained, and Harry puzzled over where everyone else had gone.
"Still gettin' used to ya without yer glasses, Harry," Hagrid was saying as he got up from the table, which gave a little creak in protest. "And those eyes… "
Fang barked outside.
"Fang," much louder, "I'm coming boy." Hagrid gave a little wave, then bowed down towards the hall and out the door. With only Dumbledore still seated opposite him, the ticks from an old clock marked the silence.
"I have something for you." Dumbledore drew forth something shiny from his robes. Harry stared as he lowered the little thing into his open palm.
"The first snitch you ever caught. I would like you to have it, to remind you of the rewards of perseverance. Please keep it on your person from now on, if you would."
"Thanks," he said, sounding a bit dubious to his own ears. Its wings fluttered feebly inside his palm, like it had been trying to escape all day.
"What can I do to help?" He unfurled his fingers: the snitch drifted off. He caught it again just barely within reach. Up close the wings were beautiful, delicate.
Dumbledore's gaze pressed like a layer of magic against the side of his head. "I believe it would be good for you to rest a bit, spend time with your friends here. And you can join the study group Ms. Granger just started, to keep up with your studies."
"Of course she did," Harry murmured, then wondered who could be in it, since it wouldn't be any of the grown-ups.
Seconds of stillness passed, then: "I sense this is not the answer you were hoping for."
Harry shrugged. "Obviously I can't be involved in in anything important, I get that. I'm a huge security risk as it is."
Dumbledore saying his name compelled him to look up. The steady regard made Harry want to flinch, and the gentle tone that followed:
"Our most important achievement right now is that we have you back, Harry. Please take some time to recover from the ordeal you have been through. This reprieve that we can give you now, that is worth almost any risk." He inclined his head. "At the same time, your offer is noted. When we find ourselves in a situation where you can assist the Order without endangering your safety, I will let you know. Is that an acceptable answer?"
"Yes, sir." He let the snitch go again. The level of consideration made his chest feel raw. Was it placating, or a treatment with gloved hands?
"Well," Dumbledore sat back, letting the tips of his gloved fingers meet. "Tea is in order, I think." He was a quick conjurer, and tea was sipped.
Things stayed quiet for a bit, then the phoenix leader went on:"Were you aware that you had another vision, during lunch? I see from your reaction you were not. Nymphadora explained to me before dinner that you warned them to stay silent, since Riddle could hear."
Harry took a sip to gather his rambling thoughts. This was the second time that he couldn't remember at first having been in contact with the Dark Lord. The man's strong emotions over Harry's escape were apparently snatching him up through their link more and more, but he forgot them right away. And he, Harry, still wasn't coming to Hogwarts like the man demanded, and- and someone had to be murdered for it…
"Harry."
Albus' gloved hands covered his own shaky ones. "Is your scar hurting you?"
He shook his head, though there was still a vague headache which would soon become worse, probably. He mentioned this.
"Good, the painkiller is still at work, then."
Ah, the pleasant light-headed feeling… which he had not questioned earlier.
"Remus put you under with a spell when it became clear you were channeling the Dark Lord. You looked to be in pain, so they spelled a bit of potion into your stomach. Is there anything you remember?"
Harry thought back hard. Something about Tonks trying to wake him up. "He was talking to Snape. And Professor McGonagall."
The man's forehead creased a little before his face smoothed out again, like something was unexpected.
"There was a student… Dean! The professor had to get him but she couldn't find him. Something about your… about Fawkes. But then…" He lost track of the words when the memories pushed forth. The panic was hard to think through.
Dumbledore tightened his grip over Harry's hands. They were warm through the woolen gloves, which felt very soft.
"Volde- Riddle told her to get one of the… eh, delinquents, he called them. He was angry about it not working." He almost swore at the next burst of insight. He sat up straight, or tried to but his hands were still clasped too firmly. "He knows we're in McGonagall's house."
"Ah. That explains the Death Eater activity at the edge of the wards. We are now in the same situation as we were when staying at Grimmauld, unfortunately." Albus raised his hand and Fawkes burst into existence next to him, settling on his shoulder. "My dear friend, please warn Minerva that Riddle is onto Harry's hiding place, if you would, but only if she's alone."
The Phoenix flew upwards and vanished, causing a warm breeze to pass towards Harry.
"He'll kill her. She needs to come here, with Fawkes."
Albus shook his head, baffling him. "He won't, or he'll have the whole Wizengamot against him. Even Tom Riddle understands not everything can be solved with violence."
Harry said in slow wonder: "He will torture her, definitely. He'll force her to give up this place, like he did with me."
"You were able to tell Riddle about Grimmauld only because I had already removed the Fidilius there along with our headquarters, after which I started warding of this place. And Professor McGonagall is not the Secret Keeper." He lowered his head a little to catch Harry's restless gaze. "Do not concern yourself about Minerva, she knows what's coming and can take some measures against his methods."
"Right."
Harry jumped when Fawkes returned, now flying to Dumbledore's other shoulder.
"Did you encounter any trouble on your errand, Fawkes?"
Bird and man stared into each others eyes and Harry was none the wiser. "Very well," his old mentor continued to address his familiar. "Could you do me one other favour? Please let our current inhabitants know there are to be no more strolls outside of the property boundaries, if you would, starting with Rubeus."
Fawkes was off once more.
That still left the undisputable fact that Voldemort would find himself a body to put in front of the Weasley's shop, although how they could prevent that, Harry had no clue.
"Might I make a suggestion?" Dumbledore put in as if in answer to these thoughts, but then he went on to say: "Practice closing your mind tonight. You may take another dose of Dreamless Sleep potion before going to bed. Tomorrow we will practice Occlumency together. I cannot perform full Legilimency on you because it might trigger Riddle, but we can try other techniques. And let us deal with the fallout of having extracted you from Hogwarts then."
"Alright." He couldn't fathom Dumbledore's easygoing attitude, but then again, perhaps that was what made the man so indomitable. They sat in silence. Dumbledore opened his palms, as if to give him back his hands.
"So, what happens next?" Whatever you can tell me.
Dumbledore clasped his gloved hands. "Tom is hunting us down with all the force of his army – which has now kidnapped one of his most precious assets."
Harry's mouth twisted beyond his will – precious was not a word he wanted to connect him to Voldemort.
"He wants you back at all costs. He knows we have failed in our efforts to extract his soul part. He believes, as you heard at the Burrow, that you and the horcrux are now indivisible, merged."
"Right. Do you believe that as well, sir?"
"Without being able to safely test your link to him, we can only speculate. However, if your connection is indeed inseparable, that does not mean it can't be separated again."
He scoffed at the set of wooden drawers on the other side of the table. That seemed like a long shot. "So I'm still keeping him immortal."
"Yes."
Speaking of things Voldemort had said at the Burrow... He doesn't care much about your soul, does he?
Harry rocked forward in his chair, tiring of the increasingly painful stabs beneath his breastbone. "And if we can't get him out of me, sir, then what? You must have known, right sir, that you would have to kill me in the end?" He eased back, wishing he still had the steady hands that the part of Riddle used to give him. "I could have done with that little bit of information when I was trying to figure out why Vol- the Dark Lord had saved my life."
The smaller child in him wanted to cower before the steady gaze. He felt vaguely ashamed through all the consideration he was getting from the phoenix leader. Still though, had Dumbledore explained from the start about his ultimate goal then he wouldn't even need to ask.
"Harry," the man said, tone urging. "I assure you I would never think to sacrifice your life to destroy a horcrux."
"You're sure? I mean, don't hold back on my account, seeing as you were willing to risk my soul two days ago." He should let go of this anger. He seemed like a child that way and it wasn't helping him silence the inescapable: he should be killed – they might not get another chance.
Albus appeared truly upset now, eyes blinking. "Dear young man, is that what you think, that I would risk your soul for anything? Or are you echoing Tom Riddle's words from two days ago?"
The snitch zoomed between them and away again.
Albus brought the fingertips of his two unidentical gloves together, then peered at Harry over his glasses, eyebrows raised a bit. "You are quite right, Harry, to question my motives. So far, I have kidnapped you and I have exposed you to the wrath of a Dementor – all without warning."
Harry had to glance away from the sympathy. "You have the whole wizarding world to look after, sir, I get it." he muttered.
"Ah, you are confusing my desire to win this war with wanting to win it by any means. I understand how it must have seemed to you when I forced you into the Dementor's influence, but my precautions to guard your soul that night were airtight. That Dementor could never have taken hold of your soul."
"But it didn't work, right? The- the Dementor hasn't taken him out of me. It's still there, just meshed up with mine." We'll probably never get it out now. "So what else can we do?"
"We would hardly be winning if it meant murdering you, Harry."
Harry shook his head. He swallowed to be sure he sounded steady. "You wouldn't be. I- I… consent to it."
"Unacceptable."
Harry looked up with a scowl. "So your plan is just to let other people get killed while Voldemort keeps looking for me, until there's no one left to fight." Each day, a body.
The phoenix leader had his wand out and a spell cast in the next eye blink. Harry sucked in a breath, but then he saw the edges of the walls light up in blue; it was merely a check of the wards.
"Shit," he muttered after a beat. "Sorry 'bout that."
"You have just confirmed that we are successful in keeping the Taboo out, so no matter." Dumbledore turned back to him. "Tom chose you as his most dangerous enemy. Do you realize what this means? If he had not acted on the prophecy by killing your parents, you would not have this desire in you to end him, nor the protection given to you by your mother when she died. By choosing you, he made sure you are the person most likely to destroy him."
"You can't mean the power of love, right?"
"Indeed I do. Love for your friends and your mother's love for you."
"How is love going to help? Everyone I care about is now a target, more so because I love them." He stood to pace the length of the table, catching the snitch near the kitchen window, releasing it, catching it.
Dumbledore's eyes did not leave his face. "Such is the reality of wartime. All of us decided to take these risks. And we've had some modest successes already, though you won't be reading about them anywhere."
He didn't dare to ask, even though he longed to hear some good news.
"I still have part of his soul stuck inside me."
"Which does him far more harm than good," his mentor said, clasped hands accenting his words. "Even now he wouldn't dare killing you if he got you back, since already three out of his seven horcruxes are gone – two horcruxes destroyed and one, Helga Hufflepuff's cup is missing. Although to be precise you have a fragment of his soul, not a horcrux, which I believe makes you even more valuable to him. He can't afford to, since he's unsure how much of himself he'd stand to lose with you gone. Consider, if you will, the fact that he couldn't keep you under the Draught either."
He scuffed to a stop. "You know about that?"
"I inferred it as the most logical next step after your capture. I had foreseen a long and trying search to find you, so imagine my surprise when Voldemort returned you to the school's premises for the new school year."
"It's only a matter of time until he finds me again," he said, miserable.
"We will worry about that when we need to, Harry. As for the current moment, however, I would like you to rest, to recuperate from your ordeal."
He choked on a laugh, not yet willing to let the subject go: "I want to see him dead, but I don't see how the prophecy can come true. I mean, I can't even escape him in my mind."
"As I mentioned before, if you find living here for the foreseeable future acceptable we can work together to fortify your mind against his intrusions."
"I know what I can do to help," he said slowly. He caught the man's gaze. "I got Ron out, I can summon others here as well, Death Eaters."
Dumbledore tilted his head. "You know my view on this, Harry."
"Isn't it worth the risk, though? I can give you Bellatrix." He grabbed the table's edge to sit down again across from his mentor.
"Why do you believe you can draw her out, specifically?"
Harry stifled a grin – that didn't sound like a no. "I know the feeling of her Mark." He felt a bit warm at the thought, and hoped it didn't make him blush.
"You have summoned her before, you are saying?"
Harry had forgotten how those eyes could lift the memories right out of his skull – or a lucky guess? "I wanted to fool Volde- Riddle, make him think that the Horcrux had me under his control," he said in what he hoped was a factual manner. "That's why I summoned her one time." He hesitated, then added: "Her devotion to him is unbelievable."
"In that case she may know it's you, if she's already had a chance to compare the calls. They could be anticipating this, even."
"I don't think she'd want to confess to having been fooled by me. I'm sure we can catch her off guard."
Dumbledore sat back, studying him in silence.
She would be prostrate before him, he thought with a thrill. "I can get others as well," he offered, just to escape the image in his mind. "That guy Moore. Malfoy – well, both of them. Nott. Sir, I can deliver Snape to you." These were all the Death Eaters he could recognise by mark, anyway.
Dumbledore closed his eyes, as if suddenly very wary, which made him fall silent. The snitch passed by the man's ear, unseen. The phoenix leader's next words proved Harry had just said just the opposite of what he wanted to hear:
"I want to resist making use of your link to him this way. I am afraid to let you dabble in magics too dark to return from."
Harry's mouth was gaping slightly. "Didn't you actually assign me training in the Dark Arts? With- with Snape?" Or was that Voldemort…
"Yes," Dumbledore agreed softly. "To understand though, not to use. Looking back I may have given professor Snape too much leeway in his lessons plans for you, but that is another matter." He bend forward a little, imploring. "Riddle designed the Marks for his own personal use. Interacting with his creations will most certainly strengthen the parts of him still inside of you. He may even be encouraging your use of it specifically with that in mind."
Well. Voldemort hadn't minded his borrowing of the Dark Mark one bit, a bad sign: the man was sensitive about these things.
"Ah, as I thought," Dumbledore interpreted his silence. "One tends to see the pattern in these things, if you get to be my age."
"I know it's not healthy to use them," Harry hastily said. "But I'm the only one who can do this. I- I have to try."
Dumbledore stroked his beard, giving Harry a quick grimace. "Perhaps, under my supervision… The timing of your offer makes it tempting to consider. She is currently holding one of our members captive. We know this because of the last Patronus she managed to send, but we cannot find her location. She is most likely hiding in plain sight, under the ancient Lestrange wards; they are proving impervious to our most advanced tracking spells in any case. Ms. Lestrange has wrecked much destruction in our ranks already. If you were to make use of this poisonous magic once, Bellatrix would be our best bet."
Harry blinked a few times. Dumbledore certainly didn't need to persuade him of Bellatrix' bad credentials.
Dumbledore looked very serious suddenly. "I do want to stress my concern here, Harry. We shall try this once because I will be close by to negate the more insidious effects of such magic, and only because of this emergency. I am asking you to stay away from Dark Marks at all other times."
"I-, Harry stammered, "I don't know if I can."
Albus bend forward a little now: "This might sound wearisome to your young ears, but you have so many years to enjoy in front of you, Harry, and hopefully without the influence of dark magic. Even if – or should I say especially – right now you don't see the harm in using Riddle's powers."
When Dumbledore suddenly removed his right glove to reveal blackened skin beneath, Harry sat stunned.
He nodded, "Quite a sight isn't it? I myself have managed a full life already without the constant draw from the dark arts. It's made me naive enough to stumble into a dark object without heeding its danger, which has since caused me lasting damage."
Dumbledore calmly put his glove back on. "But I'd rather this mistake happened, in hindsight, than that I would have immersed myself in the object's toxic influence and cared no longer."
"I think I understand, sir. It's not worth using it." He found himself grinning all the same. "Unless it's Bellatrix Lestrange."
Dumbledore started to chuckle. "Hm, yes, isn't that a Muggle saying 'the exception that proves the rule?' In this case, you will have our full support and protection at your back and we will make your exposure to the Mark as short as possible. That is why I'd dare to try it now."
"Alright, when do we do this?"
The phoenix leader paused to check on something in his pocket, before continuing: "Tonight would be best, because time is against us, though I'm sure you're tired."
Harry shrugged at this, since it wasn't important.
"But before we do I feel bound to give you a sense of the strategic implications."
There was a sudden silence. Harry looked up, which the man had been waiting for:
"Make no mistake, Harry: if you decide to do this, there is no turning back. You were taken from him by force, through no fault of your own. However, to actively thwart Riddle, by luring the commander of his army into our trap – that is another matter entirely. It will undo all the possible goodwill he might still harbour towards you."
Although it was hardly appropriate, he couldn't suppress a smile: now he could actually do something for the Order that would directly help the war effort. And Voldemort's supposed goodwill could go hang; it was as fickle as the weather anyhow.
"I'll say you forced me."
"He will pluck that lie right from your thoughts."
Harry tilted his head in agreement. "I'll say it's payback for- for Sirius. He understands that."
"Is that the eagerness I am sensing from you, Harry? Revenge?"
Harry felt his heart stutter, which he did not want to examine. "I- I'm eager because I think this might really help."
Whatever Dumbledore thought of his answer, his face did not betray a thing. "Very well then, since you still want to proceed…" Dumbledore stood. "I will make the arrangements."
And so it was decided, after Dumbledore got back from his hour-long firecall, that Harry would lure Bellatrix to McGonagall's house. Standing by to apprehend her were Dumbledore, Tonks in the form of an unknown woman, and Bill – all of them hooded like Death Eaters.
The study would be charmed to look like the drawing room in Voldemort's manor. His old mentor had chosen this room for his illusion since it was closest to McGonagalls' wine cellar, which apparently served as the makeshift prison around here. For this to be convincing Dumbledore skimmed his surface thoughts; a gentle pressure on Harry's eyes, since full Legilimency on someone still harbouring part of Voldemort was unwise. Dumbledore continued a stream of questions about details on the walls, floors and ceiling, then the pressure vanished. The purpose of this, he explained after Harry's puzzlement, was to encourage his stream of consciousness, to make sure he wouldn't dwell on anything else.
From Tonks, Harry got a dark cloak to wear with a large hood. He would be sitting down, since he couldn't possibly imitate Voldemort's figure. All of this to catch her off guard as much as possible for the adults to disarm her and put her under chains and wards.
After all the charms were done, and everyone was in position, Harry pulled.
888
"You!"
The kneeling form in front of him was making his legs weak, electrified. Bellatrix was quite a sight, with only a long dark-red overcoat hastily donned over her shimmering night lingerie.
He was glad he had been sitting down for this. Oh, right... the disguise part hadn't lasted long.
While he stared down at her, as if trying to wake from a spell, she was already aiming her wand, but the Order members were quick to disarm and bind her hands behind her back, as well as cast a whole set of other spells.
He blushed at his own dangerously slow response. She stood slowly in the swaying manner of an uncoiling serpent, and he rose with her, wand aimed. Lestrange took in the – to her eyes – unknown woman and Dumbledore behind her. Did she never remove her dark makeup or did her eyes just happen to be like a panther's?
There they both stood, about a meter apart, and she started examining him now while Bill's arms were coming up to hold fast to her back. He had to look up slightly to meet her gaze.
"Potter," she said with a strange little smile. It didn't help his heartbeat slow down any.
"Welcome, Lestrange," Tonks said sarcastically in a lower, croaky departure from her normal voice.
"Love the eyes," she whispered next to Harry as if she hadn't heard.
That was all she got in before Bill hauled her off along with Dumbledore, over a small bit of landing and down to the cellar. He had to confess himself disappointed, but had agreed it was better he stayed away for the next part, which was something to do with questioning and Veritaserum. Tonks clapped him on the arm before also following downwards.
After waiting tensely in the study for a while, Harry decided to get his books and study. When he had read the same paragraph on metal-to-metal transfigurations for the third time, he put his books away on the couch and toed towards the rounded staircase. Nothing could be heard here of course, so he carefully set his weight on each turning step.
The temperature dropped significantly with each step as he arrived near-silent in a stone basement with rounded ceiling. Torches in the walls barely lit the place, revealing a corridor with ample storage spaces and pull-out shelves left and right; as he walked he could see the shimmering wine caps stacked in some places. The place was long and narrow. There was an open space at the end of the hallway, and he considered the basement had to run below a large part of the house.
He placed his ear to the door at the end where murmurs could be heard within. Bill and Tonks in her concealed voice; perhaps Dumbledore was merely watching. It sounded like Bill had been going at it for a while as he continued:
"So it's not your mansion that you're keeping him, it's another family dwelling 'Ravenhall'. Where is this house?" His voice was decidedly dispirited as if Bill knew she wouldn't answer and had tried several times. "Is this stronghold in the region of greater London?" Another pause. "Scotland?"
And again Bill repeated the questions. And again, until his words had become monotone and meaningless.
"You want the location of … " Harry's head almost snapped against the door at hearing Bellatrix's voice. That last part had been unclear. He strained his ear once more against the wood, a little higher up.
"I could give you what you want. If you give me something in return."
"What do you want?" Tonks bit out.
"Let Potter in here and find out."
Harry scrambled back, but Bill didn't take it literally since he interjected: "You'll only be making deals with me, Ms. Lestrange, if they are worth our while."
Bellatrix was probably raising her brows at this refusal. "Never mind, deal's off the table," she said in irritation, sure enough. "I asked Potter to interrogate me, not you. Now chop chop, I'm getting bored."
Harry blinked, then wondered how she could possibly talk like this while under Veritaserum. He shouldn't, he really shouldn't, but…
He squared his shoulders, pulled open the door and quickly said: "I'll do it."
Two dismayed faces turned his way – Dumbledore was not here, perhaps acting on other intelligence she'd given earlier. Bella's eyes in the back of the room widened, and he already half regretted it just for making her day. But his stay here had a short expiration date anyway – he was quite sure of that despite the Order's optimism – so he could afford to act a little risky.
Lestrange was sitting on a floor-bolted chair behind bars which separated the little room into two parts; she wore something different now, a long tunic of lighter colour, though no one had bothered with the buttons on the front, where her nightgown still showed. Tonks was standing near the door while Bill stood a little closer to their prisoner, head bent a little against the low-curving wall. An industrial lamp lit the scene, just above their heads and looking quite Mugglish.
"Potter, get out of here," Tonks croaked with great irritation, and she put a hand to his shoulder to steer him back out the door. He still had to get used to her new face, with long dark hair and a wider nose.
Bellatrix laughter sounded low and long from the back of the room. "Hello, Harry."
"How can she resist…" Harry whispered.
"Training," Tonks returned shortly, "Years and years of it."
"If I can get her to talk…" he went on.
"We will deal with her, we are experienced in prisoner interrogation whereas you are not."
"Let him, Gertrude, if he wants to," Bill shrugged where he was leaning against the stones, and Tonks stopped her push between his shoulders. Her hand tightened, disapproving.
Bellatrix clapped her hands. "Perfect, Potter, let's make a deal. These two have to leave, though."
Did she think him so stupid? "I'll talk with you, but I'm not making a deal. Forget it."
"Are you a wizard, Potter?" she drawled, disdainful. "We can make the deal binding."
He had been drawing closer to her while she talked, but now Bill had grasped his robe behind his back in warning, unseen by the prisoner.
Harry answered: "Bill will decide the conditions of the deal." He hoped the man knew any vows other than the Unbreakable kind.
Bill seemed to be grinding his teeth – probably by how off-script they were getting since he'd walked in – but then went to stand next to him, holding his wand up between them. "I will decide if the exchange is worth our while, or if I'll break it off midway and hit you with a little specialised memory charm I've reserved for your kind." He was stroking his wand a little as he said this. Harry wanted to signal he should do that regardless.
Bellatrix spread her hands with a raised eyebrow as if to say, whatever you like. Then she pointed at Tonks. "You can stay then Weasley, but you'll have to leave."
Behind him he could feel Bill turn to Tonks. They had a non-verbal discussion, after which the door closed – Tonks had left.
At his gesture Harry went to stand within Bill's wand reach, but as far as possible from Bellatrix.
"I will start and you will tell me your end of the deal, ending with 'so I on my magic bind this oath.'"
Lestrange's hands came up to grasp the bars, but there her fingers stopped. Aside from the physical barrier there was an invisible one running right along the bars. She pushed her palms to the barrier instead.
Bill's eyes narrowed in on the witch and he started a spell: he muttered something under his breath, drawing a continuous loop with his wand.
He stated: "Bellatrix Lestrange née Black hereby named prisoner, vows on her own magic that she will give the location of Hestia Jones and method for two Order rescuers to successfully extract Jones, without causing pain, injury, entrapment or death to said rescuers or Jones. Only in return for these conditions to be met, and without abiding the prisoner to escape her current location, Harry James Potter will fulfill one request of the prisoner only if said request does not cause residents in this location pain, injury, or death, the request being…"
Bill stopped while his wand motions continued, raising his eyebrows.
Bellatrix turned bodily towards Harry and let the pause go on a while, clearly enjoying herself. "Ten minutes of undivided, private attention from Harry James Potter."
Harry gaped a little, then quickly closed his mouth. Bill thought a moment, hand keeping up the loops and turns all the while, but one look at her thoroughly walled-in figure must have silenced his inner conflict: "Ten minutes of undivided, supervised attention from Harry James Potter."
Her eyes shone in the semi-darkness, giving him a twinge of disquiet. "I accept your conditions. So I on my magic bind this oath."
There was a wave of magic, like water pressing lightly against his skin, before Bill stepped back a little.
Lestrange gave him a once over. "Come closer."
Confident now that Bellatrix would not be able to extent her hand through the bars, he wasn't too bothered to comply. The rest of his thoughts on what she might want with him refused to form into something useful.
"Closer," she whispered.
He shuffled up to the barrier. He'd never been so close to her, he thought. Her features were still stunning, even when he could count each impossible large eyelash.
She straightened to match his pose – without her heels on they were of similar height.
"You are not making it worth my wile…" she drawled haughtily, her eyes hard and glittering in the nearby torchlight.
Harry looked down to see there was still a few centimeters to cross, and did so, holding his breath.
Their noses nearly touched. She was close enough to kiss. He had a hard time not meeting her gaze. It was nearly, nearly romantic.
"So grown up…"
Something warm pressed against his privates in the next instant.
A shock of nerves fluttered through his stomach and he looked down with wide eyes. How…
But how was immediately clear.
So close to the barrier, his legs were lightly touching the bars, but in the empty space between, the front of his trousers had slipped inwards slightly. And part of her slender hand covered him there.
The sight boggled his mind. Apparently this wall didn't work the other way around.
She palmed him more firmly, while he stood frozen, thoughts slowing down even more at the sweet friction she caused. He was bulging…
He stepped back in a burst of speed.
The eyes in front of him had turned large, leering.
He swallowed hard, looked over his shoulder towards Bill. This dampened the sensations a little.
Bill shook his head, looking quite serious. "Don't do it Harry, she'll rip your balls off with her bare hands." Then he spat at Bellatrix, voice thick with disgust: "You're even sicker than I thought, Lestrange, to even suggest this."
Aftershocks sizzled over his body. The fact that Bill wasn't joking about any part of this, drove home that this situation had now turned into real adult territory. With real grown-up stakes.
He backed away, towards and alongside Bill.
"Without magic?"Bellatrix returned mockingly. She laughed through her nose at him, trailing her gaze downwards. "Don't worry darling, I won't harm the goods."
He hoped his blush was covered by the half-light.
If he could be absolutely sure this would safe a life… should he not do it? Few things were off the table. It didn't seem like the Order had much hope to begin with. He had the distinct impression Bill had only agreed to put Harry forward as a last resort; he had been casual about it, but that was a farce in the context of rescuing a fellow Order member. Although he could hardly get to grips with what it said about him, if he accepted her advances...
What pulled him roughly from his frozen indecision was Bill jerking his head towards the door: "We're not going to entertain her, Harry. Come on, let's get out of here."
Yes, that was the less insane thing to do.
He whispered: "I've got to try."
"No way Harry." Bill was incredulous. "I've seen her in battle more than you have. She could maim you for the rest of your life."
When Harry stayed unmoving Bill went on: "If I'd known this was what she was after… Harry, chances are slim that her instructions will lead us to extract Hestia alive as it is. I'm sure she'll find a way to work around the oath somehow, with other people for example."
"We can swear an oath to that as well," Lestrange drawled.
Bill turned back to her and said, dismissive: "I'm sure you can find a way to dissolve it."
Bellatrix stroked the barrier. "Potter will have to choose now, or my offer is void."
The men gazed at each other, one conflicted and one resolved. Harry broke the stare and looked down. "I think it's worth it, for even the chance of getting this woman back."
"No it's not Harry, as an Order member I'm making this call and I'm telling you we are not risking you for this."
"You shall never be in time to safe her, then," Lestrange threw at them, cheerful. Her cat-with-the-cream attitude made him shudder. "I don't care either way, you see, we've already taken from her what we wanted."
Harry turned around and started off towards the exit, not glancing back.
A second later Bill cursed. He put out a strong arm to stop him.
"You'll come back in the middle of the night and you're just going to do it anyway, aren't you?" he whispered to him angrily. "That's just how you work. Sacrificing yourself any chance you get."
Harry's breath stuttered at being so transparent. "Don't know about sacrifice being what she's offering…" Harry trailed off, willing himself to hold Bill's gaze. He'd better own up to it now.
Bill's eyes flew between his, assessing. "Yes I gathered that too."
Harry closed his eyes.
"Go on," the man was saying, probably gritting his teeth from the sound of it. "Better here and now, with me around to hold her in check."
"You can't mean…" he muttered with eyes still closed.
A hand lightly touched his shoulder. "I grew up with five brothers, Harry," he said in low tones close to his ear. "Go on then before I start thinking this through."
Harry blinked his eyes open to find Bill's were narrowed, eagle-like. "But do understand that I have to stay on my guard."
In other words, Bellatrix was going to… do things to him, and Bill would watch her do it.
"I'll cast a silencing charm, after the second oath."
Harry gaped at him. The subject was even getting to Bill now apparently, because he coughed with a muffled "Dear Merlin."
"What does she get out of this, anyway?" Harry muttered, heart pumping.
Bill choked back a laugh, making him feel quite young again. The man shook his head once. "Oh, Harry."
Bill was as sharp as ever with the wording of the second oath – there seemed no loophole where Bellatrix could allow for any sort of assault on Harry. Perhaps making the vow airtight was like warding or curse-breaking, which was after all the man's day job. Second oath absorbed into their skin, Harry walked back over to her, refusing to think of anything. Lestrange watched him with a knowing smile.
"My little heir," she breathed when he came to stand in front of her. She tilted her upper body, skin exposed by the nightgown below the tunic. Her nails' red polish glinted, making him think of Voldemort's when he'd cut into Harry's back, after which he'd murdered Umbridge.
Here was the reason that Neville had shadows for parents, and the woman was smirking now probably the same as then, as he was about to give her what she'd asked for...
He whirled away, was caught by Bill's arm pulling back. He shouldn't have looked...
Suddenly her Mark felt close to the surface, but that was at least something he could block. He swallowed away the acid crawling upwards, shook his head firmly at Bill.
A dull clang behind him - she had probably thrown herself against the bars. "Your part of the bargain now," she raged, "or the oath is void."
Bill whispered in his ear as he pushed him to the door: "I'm relieved. We've already got what we need."
We did?
"Bellatrix Lestrange," Bill's voice boomed suddenly, "The request you've made in our oath has been satisfied."
Although he dared not glance back from watching the door's rough edges, Harry could see the soft light in the room brighten for just a second.
"What?" she snarled.
"It's been ten minutes, Ms. Lestrange," Bill said in a way that implied she was being slow.
The cursing behind him turned creative, with a few specific threats to body parts, though whose wasn't clear.
He opened the heavy door and jumped when right behind it was Tonks, who studied him head to toe while raising a dubious brow. He bit the inside of his cheek - he didn't know how he looked and his jumpiness had to be telling.
Her mouth opened for a question just when Bill called her in. They would talk later, she assured him before walking in.
He let his teeth bite until his mouth burned, proceeding to walk to the exit.
So this ending has been changed from what it was before (see notes above). Hope you like it! Let me know.