Harry Potter and the Circle of Oblivion

A/N: I should have named this bit, “What the frick took you so long?” but I'll just dispense with the apologies of how arse-numbingly long it took me to get this chapter out. I hate work. I hate that it sucks the life out of my creativity. I'm honestly not sure about this chapter. It's just a step toward resolving, or at least dealing with, Voldemort within the confines of this story. I've said it once, but I'll say it again. The Voldemort involved plotlines are not my forte. If you have any brilliant ideas of how I could work that out, I'd be glad to hear you out. I want to get to the H/Hr goodness, but the big bad has me stumped! Ugh.

***

Whatever reality Harry had to face with Hermione was pushed aside only days later, by an altogether less pleasant force he had nearly allowed himself to forget.

It faded in one night like someone turning the volume up very slowly on a radio dial. For a moment there was static, an unclear channel, then…

“So I have heard…” The voice; that terrible, icy voice drifted into Harry's head and landed in the depths of his stomach.

“Master…”

“One failure is too many, you imbecile!”

“I'm sorry, I…”

“You will try again.”

“They have been secured. Dumbledore has moved them. I do not know the location, but…”

“Shall you force me to take something precious from you, Wormtail?”

“Master,” there were tears, bumbling, “Master, please, I will try again. I will-”

Silence.

“It is of no matter now. I care not for trifles. We shall move on to the task at hand.”

As Voldemort laughed sadistically, Harry started awake from his nap to a burning forehead and ran wordlessly up the stairs in search of Ron.

***

“This is making my head hurt.” Ron rubbed his temples and slouched back into his chair several hours later.

The Gryffindor common room's fire was licking at its stone cage while Harry, Ron and Hermione sifted through the pile of books in front of them.

“We've been looking all night, Harry, and we haven't found anything.” Hermione ventured.

“You two can sleep,” Harry said stiffly, knowing what she was hinting at, “I'll keep looking.”

“Remind me why we're burying ourselves under half of the library's collection when we don't know what we're looking for.”

Harry lifted his head momentarily to look at Ron, “Because I had another dream.”

“But I thought he didn't say anything important in this one.”

“Everything is important when Voldemort says it.” Harry's voice was strained. “And why would I have heard it if he didn't want me to?”

“It might help if you told us what he said again.” Hermione picked up another book, “You only mentioned it once and that was nearly four hours ago.”

Harry sighed and looked at them steadily, waiting a moment before recounting the dream.

“What the devil does HE want that Dumbledore moved?” Ron stared up at the ceiling.

“Whatever it is,” Harry began, “He doesn't want it anymore. I'm sure the task at hand has something to do with me.”

“Perhaps not,” Hermione said.

Harry looked at her as if she were mad, “It always does, Hermione.”

She returned the less than friendly look, her heart pounding, “Harry, you asked for this, you wanted it, so don't - Merlin!” She said suddenly, cutting herself off.

“What is it?” Harry and Ron said at the same time.

“I can't believe I didn't think of that when you said it the first time. Especially since… well, that's the most oblivious I think I've ever been. Sitting here looking through books for another stone or some object when... how stupid…”

“Er… wouldn't want to clue us in on whatever is you're yapping about, then?” Ron said.

Hermione jerked her head around as if just becoming conscious of the fact that two other people were sitting there.

“My parents.” She said flatly. “Wormtail failed,” she swallowed, “He didn't k-kill my parents.”

Harry's eyebrows rose. “And now Voldemort doesn't care. They're out of his range and he's moving on -”

“To someone else.” Ron added.

They looked at each other in silence. Each wondering...

“Well, we're not going to find out who it is in a book, so I'm going to bed.” Ron stated. “Tomorrow.” He promised.

Harry nodded and watched Ron ascend the staircase. Hermione, in turn, watched Harry intently.

“Do you want me to stay and help?” She asked.

“No. No, I'm going to bed too.”

“Harry…” Hermione said meaningfully.

“Really, Hermione, we figured it out, there's nothing left for me to do, is there?”

“Do you think I'm that stupid? That I believe you're satisfied with what we came up with?”

“There's more to it.” He admitted.

“I know there is, but we aren't going to figure it out tonight.”

“When did you start giving up on research?”

“I'm not giving up, Harry, I just know when it's time to stop.”

“Really?” He said, his tone changing.

“Yes,” she had the odd feeling they were discussing something else now, “I always have.”

Harry looked down at his hands, “At least one of us does, then.”

***

“Again?” Ron asked as they followed Professor McGonagall toward Dumbledore's office. “Honestly, we spend more time in his office than in class.”

“And that bothers you?” Harry smirked.

Once inside Dumbledore's study, they settled into the chairs Ron swore were now molded to their backside's and waited.

“Ah, there you are. I'm sorry to keep you waiting, but I've just discovered a very large bag of lemon drops hidden in my dresser. Amazing how well I hide things from myself!” Dumbledore said lightly, obviously thrilled over his candy discovery.

Ron eyed Harry out of the corner of his eye with a look daring him to laugh.

“What is the date, Mr. Weasley?” Dumbledore asked as he sat.

“Er… March 5.”

“Hmm… right you are. Quite late by my calculations.”

“Late, sir?” Hermione asked.

“I must confess that since Harry secretly opened himself to Voldemort nearly a month ago, I rather expected for something to have happened by now.” The headmaster eyed Harry who was looking, very guiltily, at the floor.

“Professor… er… I'm sorry, I just thought…”

“I know what you thought, Harry, and while I rather expected something like that from you, I wonder at your notion that no one would know but Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley.”

Harry instantaneously decided he had kept his secret very well, but Dumbledore, well, he always knew, didn't he?

“So, then, I guess you know what happened last night?”

“At least we know he is no longer pursuing the Grangers.” Dumbledore said, barely lifting and eyebrow.

“Who do you think he's after?” Harry asked before thinking.

“Well, there's always you, isn't there?” Dumbledore said, almost flippantly.

Hermione's eyes grew wide and bounced between Harry and the Headmaster.

“There's always me.” Harry said quietly.

“But I don't think that's the case this time. At least not directly. You would be his final triumph, but now, well,” The headmaster continued, “Voldemort has had plenty of chances before now. I'm honestly at a loss as to what his plans might be.”

“I'm not.” Harry said quietly.

“Harry?” Hermione asked, questioning why he hadn't told her if he did know.

“Hermione,” he said tiredly, “We've had this fight before. He's going after people I care about. Trying to destroy them because he knows what it would do to me. So now I can just wait patiently until he takes someone else from me.”

The bitterness in Harry's voice shook Hermione deeply and instinctively she reached for his hand, not caring that Dumbledore or Ron saw.

“Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, would you leave Harry and I alone for a moment.” Dumbledore's voice was calm, but stern.

Ron and Hermione eyed him cautiously as they left, eyes falling on Harry's face as the last sliver of light between the door and its frame was shut out.

Dumbledore fixed his gaze on the glass cabinet.

“You are letting him win.”

“What?” Harry said, his defensiveness already bubbling.

“You are letting him control your emotions. One week ago, Voldemort wasn't a thought in your head and now, he has ruined you within a matter of hours. You must protect yourself, Harry. This will not do.”

“Not to be disrespectful, Professor,” he said bitingly, “but I'd say I've got reason to be a bit on edge. He's going after my friends. Hermione's parents are just the start, the Weasleys, I know he has to be--”

“The Weasleys are taken care of. All worry does not fall to you. In six years that is the one thing I had hoped you would learn, but you refuse.”

“Because I'm responsible.”

“No, Harry. You are only accountable for yourself. What others choose to do, how they choose to love you and support your or even dislike you, is their decision. Accept it let yourself be free of this enormous load you try and carry.”

“But it's because of me that they're in danger.”

“No. It is because they care for you that they walk into danger with you. There is a difference.”

“I can't just--”

“The weight of the world is not yours.” Dumbledore said in a way that let Harry know the discussion was over.

Somewhere inside, a small part of Harry knew Dumbledore was right, but the believing…

He left the office and found Ron and Hermione sitting on the floor, both staring off in different directions.

She jumped at the sound of his footsteps and stood quickly, Ron rising up beside her.

They didn't ask.

“So, Hermione says her animagus is wicked.” Ron started as they walked toward the tower.

Hermione rolled her eyes, “I've never used the word wicked in my life.”

Harry laughed, his eyes lighting.

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