Chapter 11
Victims of a Prophecy
Ginny helped Harry to his feet.
"Where did she come from?!" he exclaimed.
"She must have been in the room with us when - well - we sort of got here somehow..." said Hermione.
Harry didn't respond. He had too many thoughts running about his head all at the same time.
What had happened to the others? Were they okay? How could there have been an attack on a place where Harry thought he was perfectly safe? Was there a traitor amongst them? And if so, who could they trust?...
Speechless, Harry mumbled something under his breath and, clutching Hedwig in her cage, along with his Firebolt and his trunk, he led the way towards their dormitories.
"Password?" said the Fat Lady.
"Nitwit Nonsense," said Harry.
"It definitely is," said the portrait as it swung open to reveal a most empty Gryffindor commonroom. Harry immediately threw down his things, with the exception of Hedwig's cage, which he gently placed on the floor, and slumped onto the couch, burring his face in his hands.
"Do you think he's still alive?" Harry asked, his voice shaking.
"Who?" asked Neville.
"Dumbledore!" Harry shouted.
"Oh," he said. "I dunno. But I'm sure he is, Harry."
"Yeah," said Luna, "Dumbledore can take care of himself."
Harry suddenly looked up at her.
"What are you doing here, Luna? This is the Gryffindor common room. Aren't you in Ravenclaw?"
"Well, I'm sorry for not wanting to be all by myself in a completely different part of the castle after what just happened!" she said, sounding rather insulted.
"Right, sorry," said Harry.
"How could this have happened?" Hermione suddenly exclaimed, reading Harry's mind.
"I don't understand," said Harry. "What could have gone wrong...? Everything was going along just fine...What about the parents? What about the members of the Order? Hagrid, Mark's parents, Mr. Weasley, my grandmother....what happened to them?..."
"I don't know," said Hermione.
"Maybe this was just a fluke, you know," said Ron. "Maybe it was an accident - "
"An accident!" Hermione exclaimed. "Ron, thousands of dementors don't just show up in one location by accident! They were sent there! By Voldemort! And you know it!"
"All right, all right, calm down..." said Ron, taken aback.
"Calm down! Ron, do you realize that any member of our family could be dead right now? Do you not understand that Harry's family, the last of it that he has, might be gone forever? Don't you get it? This is real!" she shouted.
Ron's ears went red and he didn't look up at Hermione.
The common room Portrait Hole burst open and several people walked in at the same time.
Harry watched as Percy, Bill, Charley, Fred, George, and Professor McGonagall walked inside, looking flustered.
He immediately stood up and asked, "What happened?"
Professor McGonagall spoke to him, "Potter, we don't know how this happened, but you will remain at Hogwarts until school is resumed and you will stay here until the end of the school year. Several veelas were aiding the dementors it the attack. Someone must have told You-Know-Who about headquarters, there is no other way, but that's not the point - "
"Is anyone hurt? Was anyone," he gulped, "killed?"
"What do you think?" she snapped, though her voice sounded unusually dark.
"Who?" said Hermione before Harry could ask.
Professor McGonagall looked rather worried, but still answered, "Professor Dumbledore's brother, Aberforth, was not found. We think he might be - that he is - well, and....and...some members of the Order - you don't know them, but they are - er - I don't think that it is important to discuss this at the time. Potter, your grandmother will be here shortly to make sure that you are all right. I reminded her that you were just fine, but she wanted to make sure all the same. You are to stay in the Gryffindor common room until further instructions are given. These five gentlemen will remain with you at the moment. I'm sure they can explain what - er - occurred. I will speak to you later. Er - Happy Christmas, I suppose."
And with that, Professor McGonagall left a startled Percy, Bill, and Charley, Fred, and George at the company of the six Gryffindors and one Ravenclaw.
Bill sighed. "Never would have imagined it!" he said.
"So what exactly happened?" asked Ron.
"Well, at some point, you may as well know, someone sent hundreds of dementors to the lighthouse along with some veelas. The attack was so sudden that I don't think anyone could have possibly expected it..."
"Yeah," said Fred, "we were still talking to Mundungus about Spiking Spaghetti for our Joke Shop."
"Forget about the Joke Shop," said Percy through gritted teeth. "The point is that no one seemed to be aware of what was happening."
"Do you have any suspects?" asked Harry.
"Well, we do suspect some people, but we really couldn't tell you," said Charley.
"What we are assuming happened was that someone ratted out the Order to You-Know-Who. They must have also known about the prediction of Dumbledore's death, because I don't think they would have dared attack his home. Anyway, whoever it is, they might be long gone or might still be in the Order. As a matter of fact, Dumbledore's now taking much more strict measures on leaking out important information. I don't know how that will help, but You-Know-Who's sure done some job by splitting up the trust in the Order," said Percy.
"But aren't there charms cast upon those in the Order?" asked Hermione.
"True, there are," said Bill, "but there are also ways of breaking them. I doubt that a Dark wizard would have much trouble doing so."
"What you're saying is that someone sold all of us out and we have no clue as to who it could be? What do we do now?" said Harry.
"We never said that we had no clue," said Charley, "we just said that we don't know for sure yet. But we do think it could be a couple of people - "
"That's the problem, though," said Hermione, "you think, but you don't know. How is that going to help? You might be trusting all the wrong people!"
"Is Professor McGonagall someone you wouldn't trust, Hermione?" asked George with a grin.
"Of course I trust her, but - "
"Ah! Now there's an idea!" said Fred. "Why don't you butt out of this and let us handle it!"
"Hmph! Fine!" said Hermione. "I was only trying to help - "
"Yeah, well, we have enough `help' to be going on with, thanks."
Hermione didn't respond.
"So are headquarters being relocated?" asked Harry.
"Yes...," said Bill.
"And no," said Percy. "We're still not sure. We no longer know if there's a point in finding new headquarters considering the fact that two of them have already been located and that there might be a spy amongst us."
"But you're still going to try, right?" asked Hermione.
"Well, we were considering Hogwarts. We're thinking it's the best place for now."
"Yeah," said Charley, "not many more places where we can go, are there?"
"I suppose there's nothing much we can do but wait, right?" asked Harry.
"You said it," said Bill and slumped himself down on the couch next to Neville and Ginny, who were both taken back by his calm resolution.
School had soon resumed itself at Hogwarts and students, looking lost and afraid, were flooding back in to the castle, each murmuring past events under their breath, having overheard their parent discuss them over the holidays.
Luna had returned to the Ravenclaw tower and had sworn not to give the Gryffindor password out to anyone while Ginny had reverted to her new prefect duties and Mark was back to hanging with his first year friends.
Bill, Charley, Fred, George, and Percy had left Harry and the others to take care of themselves so that they could perform more projects for the Order, which had relocated itself to the several rather secretive chambers in Hogwarts. Cilia had come to wish Harry goodybye soon and reminded him that she would be leaving on the first of January, but said that she could always be reached on the two-way mirror.
The castle was now bolted up all the time; the gates were closed and visits to Hogsmeade were prohibited. Owls were to be sent out only once a week so that they could be released all together and all posts could be checked by the staff. Students were escorted by a teacher to every class and Harry was beginning to feel as if the Chamber of Secrets had been opened for a third time, only the precautions were ten times worse. Quidditch practices and matches were, of course, canceled, and Harry didn't know whether to feel happy that his Captain duties needn't be fulfilled considering all of the studying that he had to do for the exams that were to be taken before the Winter Break that had to be made up, and found no relief in his Advanced courses and next year's N.E.W.T.s, or upset that he wouldn't have the opportunity to fly on his Firebolt for who knows how long.
Harry didn't see why he had to get such an early start - nearly a year ahead of time - but he supposed that N.E.W.T.s must take some effort to pass, but he dare not think about all of the information that he would need to know in order to earn a score high enough for the Ministry to consider making him an auror. He was becoming more and more hesitant about the job as he kept hearing small scraps of news about the war, but the good news was that he would occasionally see Mr. or Mrs. Weasley and some other members of the Order pass by Dumbledore's office and would have the chance to say "hi" to them; at least he would know that they were all right.
When Harry was getting ready to make his way into the dungeons for Potions, he regrettably ran into none other than Draco Malfoy and his group of Slytherins whose laughter was enough to make Harry want to reach for his wand, only to make them shut up.
Finally, he couldn't help it and asked, "What are you laughing your skins off about?"
"Why, Potty, don't you know?" said Malfoy, his voice still hissing of giggles. "Father's made it out of jail. I told you he would, didn't I, Potter? Didn't I warn you? I did, didn't I?"
"Yeah, you also told me I'd pay, didn't you? But looks like I haven't payed anything, have I?"
"Good memory, Potter," he said. "But I suppose that you've now got that mudblood remembering things for you - "
Before he knew it, Malfoy was up in the air as the tip of Harry's wand shot out towards him. Harry grinned and began drawing invisible circles in the air with his wand so that Malfoy's body imitated it's moves and began spinning around very rapidly.
"AHHHH!"
"Harry!" came Hermione's voice, who had just emerged from the corner of the hallway. She looked up at the twirling Malfoy in disbelief, her eyes wide with shock as Harry kept smirking and twirling his wand.
"What are you doing?! Stop it! Put him down!"
"He called you a mudblood," Harry said quietly.
"I don't care if he called every single person in this school a mudblood! This isn't right! Put him down, now, Harry!"
"As you wish," said Harry.
"Oh, no - Harry, don't - I didn't mean - "
"Gravitate,"said Harry, putting his wand away as Malfoy fell several feet to the floor with a loud thump.
"Ow," he muttered.
"That's not what I meant, Harry!"
"Well, you should have been more specific, then!" she said, still smiling.
"Urgh!" she said and, furiously, stomped out of the crowd that had just formed itself around Harry and the Slytherins.
Harry turned to the whimpering Malfoy, who was still sprawled up on the ground and said, "Get up," in a disgusted tone.
He made a motion with his wand and Malfoy, unwillingly, stood up, making out another whine.
The people crowded around them stood apart so that Harry could walk through, pocketing his wand and walking past them, furious, yet satisfied, his cloak swishing behind him. The bell rang before he made his way to the dungeons and he knew what to expect when he made his way inside Snape's classroom. He creaked the door open and assumed his seat in the back of the room, interrupting Snape in the middle of his speech, but not looking up at him.
"Potter - what it the meaning of this? You are late! Your reason, perhaps?" he spat.
"None," said Harry, coolly.
"Detention then. My office. This evening," he said with a smirk.
"Whatever you say," said Harry, talking out his Advanced Potions I and mindlessly flipping through it.
"Twenty points from Gryffindor, Potter, for your wise remark," he added, swooping away towards the black board and tapping it twice so that the ingredients for whatever potion they were now studying appeared.
Harry read them thoroughly and realized that they were still on the Resurrection Potion. He groaned and wondered how long it would take Snape to get to his point; it seemed months ago that he had asked Harry to come up to the front of the classroom and make that presentation and he still did not know what Snape had been talking about. What steps? Why did they matter? Who cared how Voldemort had risen? He had done it and he was back, already beginning the Last War and murdering innocent people. Why did it matter how he had done it?
Half-an-hour later, Malfoy waddled in the classroom, clutching his back like and old man and making pathetically fake noises with his mouth.
"What happened?" asked Snape.
"Potter attacked me, sir. I had just come to my senses to get to class, sir," Malfoy said weekly, smirking under his breath.
"What?!" said Harry. "He's lying. He was just fine!"
"So you admit that you attacked him, then?" Snape sneered.
"Yeah - yeah, I did. I won't lie. But I had my reasons," said Harry.
The little color left in Snape's face had faded.
"Such as..." he said, smirking.
"He called a friend of mine a mudblood. Provoked me, sir. No other reason," Harry said, in an unusually calm voice.
"And you used magic in the hallway?"
"Sure did," said Harry, nodding his head.
He could hear Snape's teeth chattering against each other and making a very annoying noise.
"A week's worth of detentions, Potter," said Snape.
Malfoy laughed.
"Sit down," Snape spat at him and Malfoy's grin fell as he took his seat. "Do not be late for my class again. Either of you."
Harry couldn't help but snigger to himself as he saw Malfoy watch Snape pass with narrowed eyes. Detentions with Snape would be dreadful, but they couldn't be worse than those with Dolores Umbridge.
Snape spun around when he reached the front of the classroom and snapped, "Pay attention! This is important to all of you. I have read and re-read all of your essays on the Resurrection Potion, yet I must say that I was not disappointed that none of you got it right!"
Harry listened carefully, his heart still pounding jubilantly at the ability to cause Malfoy pain and humiliation...
"Bone of a father, Potter," said Snape, "remind me what the content is again..."
"Bone will form the skeleton or structure of the body," Harry mumbled. "Without it, the body could not have firm temperament or base. Depending on the relationship that the receiver had with the father, the stronger the better, the bone will form itself in the shape of the emotion. That is to say love or hate."
"And your conclusion from that information is what, Potter?" he asked, nastily.
"That if the son - or say daughter - is to accept the bone of the father, then he or she is to develop a part of his or her soul with the bone considering the emotion. Anger and fury, for example, would be the sole of the bone if that was how that father and son were related or caring and friendship if another relationship had been between the two. The bone supports the entire system of the witch or wizard and, though it is unknowingly taken, the father will contribute much to the new body. However, if by chance the emotion is destroyed by a greater power than that of the relationship, then the Spell pertaining the Potion will fail. However, this is often impossible concerning the fact that most men are born with the bone of their father regularly."
Snape sniffed, but Harry breathed deeply when he said, "Better. And the flesh of a servant?"
"The flesh will provide an outer covering for the base, or bone. It is the tenderest and most effected part of the body and soul. All contact made with the flesh will have a bond with the wearer. Therefore, the unwilling contributor will have a sort of bond with the receiver as well."
"And what kind of servant must he be, Potter?" asked Snape, glowering.
"Er - " said Harry, unsure how to respond to the questions. "Well, a loyal one, I supp-"
"I asked what kind of servant he must be, Potter!" said Snape, his mouth twitching.
"An unwilling one, then?" said Harry quickly, yet still quite doubtful of his answer.
"Yes. Which brings us to the enemy," said Snape, turning his back on Harry and walking to the back of the class, then wheeling around. "Well?" he asked.
Harry saw the class watching him intensively.
Harry took a deep breath. "The blood taken from the enemy will sustain the life of the resurrected body."
He spoke slowly, trying to take in all of the information he was saying as if he was one of his listeners.
"The potion will be stronger if there is some sort of relation or bond between the two enemies.
It is the blood which determines the effect of spells on one and the other. If one had once been invincible...then that one will surely be weaker according to the blood donor..."
As these things came out of Harry's mouth, he tried to make sense of them as if he was hearing them for the very fist time, which he was.
"It would be...it would be..." said Harry, grasping for words, "as if their powers and abilities would - would switch, would it not? If the donor was to eventually grow in power?"
Snape's eyes widened. He opened his mouth and closed it again, like a dumbstruck fish.
"That would be all," said Snape, and walked out of the classroom, shutting the door behind him as the bell rang.
Harry scowled; it wasn't usual for Snape to simply walk out like that. Where was he going? As Harry exited the classroom, he heard a round of people murmuring behind him, casting odd looks at him. They seem to have been discussing what he had just said, and Harry felt like discussing it with someone himself...it was as if someone had spoken them for him...he hadn't even meant to say those things. It just sort of...happened.
Harry made his way up to Gryffindor tower, walking through the portrait hole, and finding Ron and Hermione seated by the fireplace, executing a heavy stack of homework.
Harry seated himself between the two and Ron acknowledged his presence with a nod.
Hermione, however, hadn't looked up. She seemed to be cutting deep into her paper as she wrote and making extra hard jabs with her pen every time she placed a period. Finally, Harry watched as she rolled up the piece of parchment, laid it aside roughly, and revealed an unpleased expression as she grabbed for a book and opened it, still not looking up.
"Is something wrong?" asked Harry.
She closed the book shut, frowning, and met his eyes.
"Wrong? Harry, what was wrong was what you did to Malfoy down there! I don't even know where you got that from! It's not like you at all. Even if Malfoy did deserve it, there's no need to resort to something like that! Honestly, at times I wonder if you'd taken some unhealthy lessons from Sirius. It's as if you did it not only out of revenge, but out of enjoyment. Like it was a hobby for you! I don't know why you really did it, Harry, but if you did it to stand up for me, it was not worth it!"
Harry frowned, but then remembered a very familiar vision that he had witnessed in a Pensive.
He recognized the guilty feeling that he had from seeing his father torturing Snape, and he felt no better at the moment.
"Sorry," he mumbled, feeling rather ashamed of himself.
"Sorry? Well, a `sorry,' isn't going to do much now, is it? It's been done and - "
"I already have a week's worth of detentions with Snape. Are you happy now?" said Harry, getting rather annoyed.
Hermione looked rather dignified for a moment, as if she needn't respond, but then signed and said, "I guess I am being too rough on you. I just - just when I saw you Harry, it was not like you. Not at all. As if someone else had taken over. I - I felt like I was losing you. I don't want to get that feeling again."
Harry looked up at her, and then said, "Right," slightly smiling.
They exchanged memorizing glances for a moment, which were broken by Hermione as she finally decided to return to her book, and Harry remembered that he still had the detention to serve with Snape. The subject had completely taken his mind off what he had meant to tell Ron and Hermione, but he had to go ahead and proceed to the dungeons before he was late again.
Harry tapped on the wooden door as the knock echoed through the empty hall, and creaked the Potions door open when there was no response. He stepped inside the classroom with its dusty shelves of unknown substances and a heavy smell of something stale, walking to the front where Snape's desk stood, empty of the professor.
Harry glanced around the classroom, making sure that Snape was not somewhere in one of his cabinets or in a shadowy corner, and then sat on top of the nearest student desk when he was nowhere in sight.
"Potter!" Snape's voice cracked like a whip. "Get off that desk!"
Harry jumped and immediately got his feet. Where had he come from?
"Sorry, I - er - didn't see you there, Professor," said Harry.
"Just because something cannot be seen, doesn't mean that it must be ignored," he said coolly.
"Okay," said Harry, his eyebrows raised. "So what do I have to do?"
Snape sniffed.
"Tell me, Potter, have you not learned anything in my classes during the past five years? Have you still not learned to think? I am still wondering how they even kept you at this school along with Longbottom. And yet you are still as clueless as ever. Have you not yet figured it out? How he must fall? Do you really not recognize the pattern? Are you so blind as not to see it? When I have been trying to drill it into you for the past several months? When these events have been
happening right under your nose? You may not be your father, but you've certainly got his mind - centered on yourself, that's what it is. It's as if nothing else would matter to you if even if the world suddenly vanished. Tell me, do you not recognize anything? Are you so shallow as to ignore these things?"
"What are you talking about?" said Harry, his blood pumping through his veins harder than ever.
Snape snorted. "As always, you know nothing. Well, I suppose I have no choice rather than to tell you. I know that the Headmaster does not favor that you know, but I don't see another choice..."
Harry stared at him.
"Do you not understand that similar steps must be taken to Voldemort's fall as well as his rise back to power?"
Harry looked confused. "No, why would they?"
"Because that is the only way that you may learn to use your power against the Dark Lord. It is complicated, but you will understand later. Right now, I must make something clear to you, simply because you seem to not be able to see it for yourself no matter what. Tell me, you miss him, don't you?"
Harry raised an eyebrow; he wished Snape would just get to the point. "Who?"
Snape rolled his eyes and looked so impatient it was as if he was about to blow up. "Your dear godfather, Sirius Black," he said nastily.
"Yeah, I miss him. So what's your point?" said Harry, angrily.
"Was he not like a father to you, Potter? Your only father figure? The only one you ever knew? Was he not someone that you loved? Cared for? Bone of a father; that's one down."
Harry's mouth opened slightly and his head began to hurt. He was staring mindlessly about the room and trying hard to swallow his every breath.
"I was hoping that I was getting through to you during today's lesson, but I was wrong. How long have I tried, I still have not succeeded to getting through your thick skull. But I have no time. It is important that you know this soon...now..."
"So - so who's the servant?" Harry asked, afraid of the answer.
Snape turned his head sharply at him. "Still that daft, are you? Who's the one person that has been sweating his neck off just to keep you safe? Who's the one person that has been making sure that everything goes well for Potter? Who's the one person who favors him like no other student at Hogwarts? Who's the one person that has been treated harshly by wizards and witches everywhere even though he is only trying to do his best for the Boy Who Lived? Who is your eternal servant who believes your every word? Who is the one that is sure to be killed any day even thought it is against his will?"
"Dumbledore," Harry whispered immediately after Snape had finished his speech.
"Finally," said Snape. "And I thought you wouldn't even get it this time." He shook his head.
Harry didn't know what to think. Dumbledore was going to die and for no other reason than for Harry himself. He would have to sacrifice himself so that Harry could go on to defeat Voldemort. And if he didn't? The lives of Sirius and Dumbledore felt like blood that was painted onto Harry's hands and wouldn't come off.
He looked up at Snape with a lump of guilt at the thought of what had just been revealed in his throat. That was the father...that was the servant...but - wait, who was the enemy?
Thoughts were rasing through Harry's mind and it suddenly hit him. He began to breath with difficulty and saw that Snape was smirking at him.
"Now you get it, don't you?" he spoke. "There is but one stage to be decided...one stage that is left to be truly fulfilled. One stage that has neither been prophesied nor accomplished. Do you know what that is, Potter? The debt that it is in your enemy's hands?"
"Peter - Peter Pettigrew," Harry spat out.
"Ah," said Snape. "Good guess."
"He owes me his life," said Harry. "He - he has to die."
"He does not have to," said Snape, "but he will unless, of course, you would like to die in his place."
"No! Never!" said Harry.
"Then you must make sure that everything goes as planned by the prophecy, Potter. You mustn't be foolish. Make sure that you take care of your life, no matter how much I might despise it. Dumbledore has but only so much to live. I can only hope that you appreciate it."
Harry gulped and nodded.
"As for your punishment, I'll let you off for the night. I trust you've suffered enough," said Snape sneering and walked around his desk, sitting into his wooden chair.
No matter how much Harry didn't want to admit it, he knew that it was true - the pain that had pierced his heart at the thought of the lives that had to be lost because of a prophecy - because of him - made more of an impact on him that any detention. He felt like chocking out blood or crying his eyes out. He wanted to tear out his hair or his scar to sear with pain again - he felt he would have deserved it. It was more of a punishment for Harry to know that Snape wasn't punishing him, and Snape knew it, which made Harry want to throw up at the professor even more. For Harry wanted to be punished; he wanted someone to tell him that it was all his fault that these people were going to die or that Sirius had already died. And how Dumbledore had said that it wasn't Harry's fault that Sirius was dead - it made him sick. As he walked back to the
Gryffindor common room, however, he began to feel a slight bit better and climbed into bed. Still, the tormenting thoughts ripped Harry apart from the inside and he eventually fell asleep, aching in every part of his body, even though he wasn't physically hurting.
"The time is at hand, Master," came a voice. "Everything is planned. With the Ministry and Azkaban out of the way, nothing is stopping us!"
"You must be patient, Lucius. The information that we found did not give us as much hope as we planned. I would have expected more from the veil," hissed Harry's voice. "I am weak now, and must watch myself. That girl has drained me of some power for my while - she will pay. It is foolish the way that they seek out to follow the prophecies when they should simply avoid them. It would make everything easier. If only they would try to find a way to overcome the future, as I
have overcome mortality, they would understand the power of this accomplishment - to defeat something that may seem undefeatable. And that is why I must get to Harry Potter, but I must wait for the providential moment. I am still....weak..."
"But, Master! Hogwarts is even weaker! We must not wait for it to regain strength after the attacks! It would be even more difficult to - "
"Silence!" Harry spat. "Our plan will be accomplished soon, Lestrange, but we must wait. Be patient, and the opportunity will come. Only a few more months, and it will be complete!"
"You say `wait,' yet we have waited this long! How long will it take for me to simply go after him? I have been waiting for ages! Is it not enough that you stopped me on my last attempt, yet I must now wait even longer?!" said a new voice that Harry recognized as one of his closest followers and saw his face hidden under a grey cloak.
"I am sorry for that matter, but your deed will be fulfilled. I, for one, understand what it is like to wait, and you must therefore heed the Dark Lord!"
"You are right, Master," he replied. "I am ashamed."
"Need not be. After all, we are both after the same prize," said Harry and began to laugh as his Death Eaters followed suit. He kept laughing until he came to a strange realization and his laughter drifted off as he furiously grabbed his skull-white head with his long slender fingers and screamed, at which it rang through the boys' dormitory, only not as a groaning, snake-like voice, but as the voice of the sixteen-year-old Harry Potter, who's scar had just bled open with pain just as he had desired, and had woken him up from something that was more than but a nightmare.
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