10 points to your house if you can find the line from Remus Lupin that was nominated for "Quote of the Week."
Now the bed news…
If you've stuck with me through The Power He Knows Not, I've alluded to several warnings that the "Cliffhanger Queen" you met in that story had NOTHING on the one in Triumvirate.
I have but one thing to say…
Muhahahahahahahaha!!!!
Chapter 5 - Vici Letum
Ron watched Remus and Tonks throughout the entirety of dinner. He knew something was going on. He just wasn't sure what it was. He'd shared that same expression more times than he could count. Nearly anytime Harry, Hermione, and he had some clandestine plan to skulk about Hogwarts after hours, they shared those same guarded, but telling glances. What was most bothersome to him was that it seemed obvious whatever was going on, it was going on between just the two of them. If their secret was part of a greater Order plan, why had they all left prior to supper? Fred and George hadn't even stayed. When they both left the table, with equally lame excuses, within five minutes of each other, Ron had seen enough.
"Where are you going?" Molly questioned as Ron rose from the table.
"Er, I've got some homework left to finish upstairs," he said as he swept from the room
Oh, there was a better excuse! Me? Homework? Right.
"Tonks, we're supposed to be protecting him from dark wizards, not looking like them," came Remus' hushed voice from beyond the door.
"I'm offended Moony, you don't like this look?" Tonks retorted.
"You look like the long lost cousin of that muggle actress Elvira," Lupin replied jokingly but was soon silenced by what could be none other than a pillow cast from across the room. Ron took a chance on their light spirits and pushed the door open.
Tonks was standing before the mirror furrowing her brow at each successive hairstyle that formed upon her head. Remus was stuffing a few items into a bag and wrapping a cloak around himself. It didn't take long for Ron's presence to be noted.
"I told you he was just like Fred and George," Tonks said attempting to look offended that someone had noticed their behavior. However, the smile on her face betrayed the intent of her comment. Lupin snapped his head to the doorway that Ron occupied and gave a defeated sigh.
"Whatever it is Ron, the answer is no," Lupin said mildly.
"You're going to get him aren't you?" Ron really didn't feel the need to engage in small talk.
"Ron, it's best that you not concern yourself with this," Remus said quietly while drawing himself to his full height. It was clear he had no intention of being questioned about his plan.
"Not concern myself? Harry is my best friend! If he's in some kind of trouble I'd like to know about it," Ron hesitated only slightly before adding, "and I'd like to help."
"Absolutely not!" Lupin interjected before Ron had even finished.
"Why not?"
"It's bad enough that I'm going against direct orders here, but I cannot make myself more clear than this. I would rather face Voldemort as a wandless, deaf-mute, naked in the middle of muggle London before facing the fit your mother would throw if she even knew we were having this conversation," Remus added over Tonks quiet giggling.
"But…"
"But nothing Ron, Remus is right. This is not something you need to be involved with. We are going to get Harry, and we're bringing him home. He can tell you the rest after we catch him up ourselves," she added concernedly. After looking at Ron's acquiescing expression she felt the need to add one more comment she'd been dying to make for a week.
"And if he is your best friend, you'll cut him a break and realize he's as human as you are. We can't always help who we fall in love with, or more to the point, who we don't fall in love with." She grasped Ron warmly around the shoulders and gave him an understanding nod. Remus simply stared at them both obviously trying to decipher the conversation that had just occurred.
***
It was the same dream. It was always the same dream. This man, this incarnation of evil; he stalked the neighborhood streets on the prowl for some unsuspecting victim. It never seemed to matter how many blankets Hermione had buried herself among, this dream chilled her to the bone. She knew she'd watch him again tonight, as she had every night for the lat several weeks. But this time it was different, she was different.
Hermione steeled herself before turning in for the night. She used every relaxation technique Harry had taught her and gazed at his picture on her beside table for strength before closing her eyes. She was going to see where this man was. She was going to see where he was going. He intended to kill someone and she intended to find out whom.
So here she was. Here he was. He was staring straight through her with his steel gray eyes. The corners of his mouth so slightly curved upward, had she not watched him night after night, she'd have never known he was smiling. His robes billowed out behind him and the streetlamps retreated from his approach. The clicking of his heels on the pavement began to wear on her nerves like Chinese water torture.
Where are those feet taking you?
She pressed herself, through her fear, to continue her surveillance. He turned up that familiar footpath she could not place and did something she'd never seen him do.
He stopped.
He stopped directly in front of her. His gaze shot through her like ice water.
It's only a dream Hermione, he can't hurt you, stay with it.
He looked over the top of her head, not seeming to notice her presence at all, and narrowed his eyes. His mouth broke into a discernable smirk and he snapped his neck to both sides. Gathering a deep breath of satisfaction he broke into step and passed where Hermione was standing. Her eyes followed his footsteps and an indescribable terror consumed her once again.
"Harry!" she sat bolt upright in bed screaming his name. Had her parents been home she was sure her mother would've been at her side by now. As it was, she was alone, and she'd just seen that man's destination.
Number 4, Privet Drive.
***
Harry startled awake at his desk. The eagle feather quill Hermione had given him had left an imprint on his right cheek and the ink from his potions essay had smeared from the sweat that had begun beading on his forehead.
He saw Hermione's dream.
He saw what she did. He saw his "home." He stood up in his room and rubbed his eyes. The entire situation thoroughly confused him.
It is only a dream, it can't be real. As long as I'm here with Petunia, I'm safe. Right?
As he paced circles around his small bedroom he suddenly had a chilling realization. The streetlamps on Privet Drive were not functioning properly. In fact, with the exception of the dim lights emanating from other homes on the street, he would've thought the power had blinked off. That was all the more prodding he needed.
Harry pulled his wand from his pocket and flew from his room. His heart was pounding in his chest as he thundered down the stairs nearing the front door. He felt like he was starring in some poorly adapted version of a muggle horror movie. He'd get to the bottom of the stairs just as the door opened to reveal this man, wand drawn and ready to kill. He nearly leapt out of his skin when Petunia yelled from the hallway beneath him.
"Harry Potter! For heaven's sake what is all the…"
"Get back in the kitchen! Now! Close the door!" Harry demanded, cutting her lecture off at the knees. Harry was sure he was sporting a look Petunia had never seen before. Her reaction was clear enough to tell him that. She turned quickly and shoved Vernon and Dudley, who had come to see what the racket was about, forcibly backwards.
"Do what he says! Move!" she added pushing them through the door into the kitchen. She spun around, giving Harry one last look and closed the door. He heard the click of the kitchen door lock and turned to face the front door in an attempt to ensure it was locked as well. What happened next was something Harry had never bargained for.
The sound of splintering wood and shattering glass filled the foyer as the front door seemed to explode right off the hinges. Harry covered his face from the errant shards of glass. The blast knocked him off his feet. The whole situation was surreal. He looked up, coughing, through the settling dust to see the debris clearly falling to the sides of this man he'd come to recognize so well. Harry's heart was in this throat.
All this man could do was laugh.
"The famous Harry Potter," he said chuckling. "Whatever would your fan club say now? You're all balled up on the floor cowering; a Gryffindor indeed!" he brushed a bit of dust away from his face and waltzed through the destroyed doorway.
"Who are you?" Harry asked coldly, scrambling to his feet and raising his wand.
A stifled laugh. "You might think to put that away before you injure yourself with it. Honestly, you have no idea who you're dealing with," he said with supreme arrogance.
"I've dealt with worse than you," Harry said narrowing his eyes.
"Oh, I've heard of some of your exploits," he sniggered. "Voldemort is power-hungry and blinded by his own stupidity. I have no such faults. Hence, the reason I'm here," he added dryly.
"Well, I'm getting a bit knackered of all this small talk, why don't you just tell me why you're here," Harry quipped, even surprising himself with the nonchalance in his voice. He was scared stiff and quite frankly wasn't sure he could manage any spell right now, but he didn't want this man to know that.
Audible laughter now. "He turns seventeen and thinks he's invincible! I remember thinking that once. No wait, I still think that!" A chilling smile crossed the man's face. "I would think for being as powerful as you're supposed to be, you'd at least know who I am by now. So sad I'll have to make the introductions myself."
Suddenly, and inexplicably, the answer was as clear as daylight in Harry' mind. "No need to introduce yourself Damien. I already know who you are and I am quite certain I can figure out who sent you."
"Impressive. However, now that we've made the obligatory introductions, I feel morally obligated to get on with my purpose here."
Before Harry could move, or breathe, or blink, Damien slashed his wand without speaking a word and a streaming bolt of purple light erupted from the tip. The impact took Harry clear off his feet and threw him backwards into the door to the kitchen. He felt a rib crack as he slammed into the doorknob and slid into a heap on the floor. The only sound he heard over his own gasping for air was the sound of Damien laughing and muttering about "kids today."
He forced himself to his feet, clutching his side with his left hand and raising his wand. Unfortunately, the shock of Harry's body being blasted into the kitchen door drew quite a commotion between Dudley whimpering and Petunia attempting to get him to shut his mouth. A shared comprehension crossed their faces at the same time. As Harry shot a stunning spell toward Damien, he disappeared with a pop.
It didn't take but a matter of seconds to determine where he'd disapparated to. Petunia was screaming, Dudley, was wailing, and Vernon was bellowing some nonsense about trespassing on private property. Harry spun to the kitchen door and shouted "alohamora!" The lock gave way instantly and Harry flung the door open.
"Just in time, Harry!" Damien said brightly. "Now where should I begin?"
"You came here for me, leave them alone."
Damien pulled at his chin, pretending to contemplate Harry's demand, and quickly replied, "No. I think I'd like to have you watch a few more of your family die while you sit by helplessly. You couldn't save mummy and daddy. You couldn't save your dearest little godfather. What's a few more?"
Harry couldn't help but notice the look on Petunia's face when Damien mentioned Sirius. He'd never told the Dursley's that Sirius had been killed. Quite frankly it worked to his advantage most summers to have them believe his convicted murderous godfather could be lurking around any dark corner. But Petunia's look was not one of disdain, but rather of concern. Suddenly, it made some twisted sense to Harry. If Petunia was his godmother, she would have to have met Sirius at Harry's baptism.
While these thoughts crossed Harry's mind in virtual milliseconds, it did not pass unnoticed to the menace staring him in the face. He merely gave a sly wink in Harry's direction and firmly spoke one of the only words that ever made Harry wish he wasn't part of the wizarding world.
"Crucio!" Petunia gave an earth-shattering scream and fell to the floor convulsing with a pain Harry knew only too well. He also knew begging this man for her welfare would give him just the rush he was looking for.
There was no other way.
He closed his eyes and grasped his wand, preparing for what he knew would happen next and pushed into Petunia's mind. He mentally placed himself between Petunia and Damien and took the full weight of the cruciatus on himself. His knees buckled and he fell to the floor trying desperately, and rather unsuccessfully, to not cry out in pain. But all he could hear was his own screaming. Petunia's had stopped. He'd done it. Then it was over.
"Well, well, well. You do have some skills," Damien smiled at Harry who, shaking, drew himself to his full height once again. "But, how long can Boy Wonder last?"
With that Dudley flopped into a heap on the floor and hit a pitch Harry was sure would break the window glass. And so the game began. Damien continued to move from one terrified Dursley to the next. Harry was helpless to do anything but take the pain on himself. Each time Damien seemed to draw out the torture longer. In between, Harry did his best to think of something, anything, he could do to get out of this situation. But as each curse passed, he was growing less and less capable of forming a coherent thought. He began to see things that he knew were not there. He saw bunnies hopping through the kitchen. He saw Dudley as a mandrake (no doubt inspired by his screams) he saw the kitchen floor (with which he was intimately acquainted right now) sprout grass and wildflowers. The only thought that did make sense came to him in a rush. This was what it was like for Neville's parents.
Then it stopped.
"Well, I can't let you have all the fun Potter," he said spryly. "Alas, I've spent entirely too much time on this case already and I have more interesting things I could be doing right now. With that said, I think we'll just move right along."
Okay. Now is not the time to consider your own pride Harry. Beg him if you have to. Do Something.
"Please," Harry muttered, barely able to form the word as he lay on the floor quaking violently.
"I'm sorry, I didn't quite hear you," Damien asked in a manufactured sweet voice.
"Please," Harry said gathering himself to his feet and moving toward the Dursleys. "He sent you here to kill me, not them."
"While that's true, I never leave witnesses, and what fun would it be if you couldn't watch them die first?" he said flatly. "Now, where to begin?" Damien looked from one tormented Dursley to the next, seeming to choose the weakest one like an African range animal skulking his prey. His wand landed fixed on Dudley. Petunia grabbed him and rocked back and forth, pleading over and over for Damien to spare her son. He seemed to drink in her cries like a fine wine. Harry was nearly frozen. His mind was still trying to grasp the situation and he couldn't think. He couldn't figure out how to stop this from happening. Before he had time for another thought, the moment was upon him.
Among screaming from Petunia, wailing from Dudley, and eerie silence from Vernon he heard the words coming from Damien's mouth as if it were slow-motion. He saw the burst of green light at the tip of his wand and he thought no more.
Instinct drove him, he didn't even know why. He threw himself between the careening green light and Dudley Dursley's terrified body. As he felt the curse hit him squarely in the chest all voices cleared from his head but one.
"No!"
It was Hermione, and she was standing in the kitchen doorway.