Harry Potter and the Circle of Oblivion

Alright, it’s taken me forever to get this chapter out. I’m learning that Voldemort and his evil storylines are not my forte. I’m much better at the H/Hr stuff than the Dark Lord taking over the magical world, but if I don’t put him in there at all, I feel like I’m cheating! So… sorry for the long break between updates!! Read on!

***

All night was an understatement. Hermione awoke at four in the morning with a terrible catch in her neck. Understandable when one realized she’d fallen asleep with her cheek plastered to a copy of Anatomy of a Squib. A book which the three of them had promptly snuck into the library to retrieve after leaving the second floor hallway and making a quick run for Harry’s invisibility cloak.

Of course, before they’d been able to go to the library, Harry had been forced into giving Ron a lesson on how to make the Marauder’s Map work properly.

“You’ve got to tap the parchment, Ron, not jab at it!”

She rubbed her eyes and fingered her ponytail, which now lay a bit off center and to the side, and looked to her left and right. Ron was sitting straight up, mouth gaping, with Squibs Are People Too open in front of him. Hermione found his choice of research materials rather ridiculous, but Ron had insisted on taking it. “You never know, Hermione, we might find the secrets of the universe in here! Or some really nasty information about Filch.” On the other side of her, Harry was leaned over, cheek in his left hand, eyes closed, with a finger pointing to a passage in Dark Magic and the Power of Control. She raised her arms above her head and let out a little squeal as she stretched, then sighed and closed her book, eyes turning to Harry. Sometimes she wondered what it was like to be haunted, even in sleep, as he often was. He looked peaceful at the moment but she was fully aware of how frequently he was plagued through the night. I wonder if he ever dreams of me. The thought crept upon her, blushing her cheeks, and she briefly let herself wonder about the moment between them in the hallway, before filing it back into the recesses of her mind.

Without thinking, she reached toward him and swept a piece of unruly hair from his forehead, revealing the scar that had birthed his infamy. Odd. It was just a scar, but there were witches and wizards across the globe who would have taken her spot in an instant just to get a look at it. Or him. A protectiveness she usually tried to repress took over and she let her fingers graze the small lighting bolt as if she could bid it leave him be. It angered her more than she’d ever let on; the way they treated him like their own personal hero or punching bag – whichever the moment called for. All because of a bloody scar.

He stirred and she wrenched her fingers from his brow, watching as his eyes fluttered open and he looked at her through half-closed lids.

“Time ‘sit?” He asked sleepily.

“Nearly 4:30.”

“Did you find anything?” He sat up, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Nothing we don’t already know. We’ll have to look for more later.”

“I don’t understand,” he yawned, seemingly unaware of what she had just said, “why I haven’t felt… anything.”

“Perhaps occlumency…”

“Maybe,” he seemed unconvinced, “but we all know that didn’t work very well for me, did it?”

She knew he was thinking of the debacle in the Department of Mysteries. “Harry… do you really want to know what Voldemort is thinking?”

“Is it wrong to say… sort of?” Harry looked down.

“N-No…”

“It’s just that when my scar hurts or I get some sort of vision or dream… I feel like I know what’s going on. What’s coming. And I can warn others or prepare them… but I don’t want him in my head.” He looked up at her, wanting reassurance, “Does that make sense?”

“Of course it does. It doesn’t make it any less scary, though.”

Before Harry could reply, Ron let out a yelp and sat bolt upright, “It’s not fair,” he whimpered, “I don’t like to dance!”

Hermione had to hold her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.

“Bleeding spider dreams.” Harry grinned, “They always make him dance. He must really hate it.”

“He dreams about this regularly, then?” She was still holding back a giggle.

“All the time – ever since third year. We just yell at him to tell them off and he goes right to sleep.” With that Harry crumpled a piece of paper and threw it at Ron’s nose, starting him awake.

“Wha… who? What’s going on?” Ron looked frantically about the room before his eyes landed on Harry and Hermione.

Harry smiled, “We should go up.”

“Yeah, mate.” Ron stood, eyes barely open.

“Night, Hermione.” Harry said quietly. “We’ll look for more information tomorrow.”

“Yeah, night.” Ron echoed, barely walking a straight line toward the stairs.

“Goodnight.” Hermione smiled and stared after them until she could no longer hear their footsteps.

***

“I’ve never been more bored.” Ron’s face was inches from slamming into his desk.

“Me either.” Harry was trying to keep his eyes open. Professor Flitwick was reviewing summoning charms.

“Honestly,” Hermione said, “I don’t see why we’re having another look at these. It’s sixth year, we should be moving on.”

“Yet, you’re still taking notes.” Ron smiled a bit too sweetly.

Hermione only glared at him.

“People must have done really badly on their charms O.W.L.s,” Harry yawned.

“You two are really going to sleep?” She sounded astonished. They weren’t sure why.

“Shhh, Hermione.” Ron placed a finger over his lips, eyes closed.

Harry’s arms were crossed on the desk and he lowered his head, laughing, and looked at her. “Wake us up when it’s over, then?”

Hermione only scowled and turned back to her notes, muttering, “Completely irresponsible…” under her breath.

Harry’s eyes were much too heavy. He couldn’t remember being this tired. Ever. And he’d slept last night. Even if it was at the common room table. His thoughts traveled to Hermione and the hallway and then to Mrs. Figg. Squibs, he thought, mind swirling away. He couldn’t even hear professor Flitwick anymore. But he did hear someone. If he could just strain his ears…

“I’ve been watching the post. What would you have me do?”

“We shall wait.”

“Master…”

“We SHALL wait!”

“They’ll catch onto us. Wh-what with Mrs. Figg and Severus Snape.”

“Severus Snape has betrayed himself.”

“And Harry Potter. He’ll know. He and those clever friends of his, th-th-they’ll figure it out.”

“We can only hope that is the case.”

“But why?”

“It will draw them to me, of course.”

“But, my Lord…”

“SILENCE. It will be done when I say! Stop sniveling or I shall be forced to take back your hand... or other things more precious.”

Harry started awake, clutching his forehead. “Aaaahhhh!”

Ron sat up, eyes blinking, and Hermione gasped, “What is it? Harry, what’s wrong?”

“What is that commotion?” Professor Flitwick asked from his bookstack.

“Oh… er… sorry, Professor. I… er… my quill fell and I hit my head when I went to reach for it.”

“Oh, well, very well, Peterson, just keep it down.” Flitwick went back to summoning.

“My scar.” He whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

Hermione seemed lost for words, “But…”

“I heard him.” He hissed, “With Peter Pettigrew.” He turned to look at her, making sure no one else heard them, “He wanted me to hear. He wants me to know. I heard him say it.”

“Know what?” Ron asked, very much awake.

“I’m not sure.”

“It’s funny.” She said curiously, “That only last night you were talking about it…”

“Careful what you ask for, right?” He smiled crookedly at Hermione, hand still rubbing his scar.

When class was dismissed a few moments later, the three of them rushed into the hallway, glad the hub of voices would drown out their own.

“So last night you tell Hermione you’d like to know what you-know-who is thinking and today…” Ron gulped, “It’s weird.”

“I know.” Harry said solemnly.

Hermione looked as if she wanted to speak, but didn’t know if she should, “Harry. Do you think he’s been… I dunno… listening in?”

“To me?”

She nodded.

“I suppose it’s possible. But how? Wouldn’t I have known?”

“Well,” Ron started, “He manipulated your dreams, didn’t he? Made you see things that weren’t true. Why couldn’t he just plug into your head without you knowing?”

“That’s a very comforting thought. Thanks, Ron.”

“He’s right, though.” Hermione said flatly. “And we have to tell Dumbledore.”

***

“I should have suspected.” Dumbledore said quietly.

The three friends were sitting in his office and had just relayed their conversation from the previous night along with Harry’s incident in class.

“So is he always there?” Harry asked, staring at his fingers, voice hollow. “Every time I think something. Every time I talk to someone?”

“I do not think so. I could be mistaken, but I believe he can only fully penetrate your thoughts when you dwell on him.”

“So last night,” Hermione blinked, “when Harry told me what he did…”

“It was like I was calling on him, inviting him in.” Harry still hadn’t looked up.

“What were you thinking of when you went to sleep, mate?” Ron asked.

“Lots of things I guess.” He thought momentarily of Hermione, “I did think about Mrs. Figg.”

“The mind is much more vulnerable when one is asleep,” Dumbledore said, suddenly removing a thought placing it in the pensive. “As we have seen before.”

Harry hadn’t noticed the bowl sitting on the desk when he came in with Ron and Hermione and wondered what Dumbledore had been thinking about before they arrived.

“So what should I do professor?” Harry asked.

“There is only so much you can do. My best advice is not to think on him.” Dumbledore automatically heard sighs from the three of them at his overly simplified answer, “You must hear me. Voldemort does nothing without premeditation. He wanted you to hear what you did and knows enough of your spirit to be sure it will tempt you back. You must not let it be so. No matter what plans he has otherwise, there is always a trap set for you.”

Harry finally looked up. Dumbledore had grown more accustomed to speaking quite plainly, but had never been so blatant.

“But,” Dumbledore said, “As I also know your curious nature, you must be careful with what you do hear. Always...” the headmaster made sure he held the gaze of all three students, “report it immediately. Do you understand?”

“Yes, professor.” They echoed.

***

“Well, THAT did us no good.” Ron sulked as they walked back to Gryffindor tower. “I thought he’d have been a little more concerned.”

“He WAS concerned, Ron.” Hermione said abruptly, “Didn’t you see him, recording every thought into that pensive?”

“I suppose.”

“He knows something.” Harry interjected. “He doesn’t think we should know yet, but he’s got something big on his mind. That’s why the pensive was out before we even went in to see him.”

“What do you think it is?” Hermione asked.

“If I knew that, we wouldn’t be standing here speculating, you can be sure of that.” Harry said thoughtfully. “Only one thing we can do.”

“What’s that?” Ron asked eagerly.

“Wait for what’s next.” He said quietly and looked at Hermione, who stared back, unsure of what he meant.