Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.
Phew. I never thought I'd get this chapter done! Took me awfully long though, I'm really sorry. Hopefully it'll never happen again, at least not with this story. I also hope you're still reading, and if you're too angry to review that's understandable. Anyway, no more waiting, on with the chapter!
Special thanks to Anna Rose for her help and encouragement. Check out her stories here!: www.fanfiction.net/u/919847/
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Ch40: A LOSE - LOSE SITUATION
I don't want to let go, girl.
I just need you to know girl.
I don't wanna run away, baby you're the one I need tonight,
No promises.
Baby, now I need to hold you tight, I just wanna die in your arms
(No Promises by Shane Ward)
Harry was so lost in thought the entire way back to the common room that he started when his feet stopped walking and he saw he was standing outside the Gryffindor portrait. He sighed and said the password. The portrait swung open obediently and Harry went in with his head down, deep in thought.
Harry wasn't sure what to think of Gryffindor anymore. It was his house and had been more of a home to him than Privet Drive had ever been, but he didn't feel as though he belonged there any longer. He couldn't deny that the strong colours of red and gold made his skin crawl or that the people in it seemed to be very narrow minded and saw everything in black and white. Only twelve hours ago, Harry had thought about how much he would rather belong to Slytherin, but he didn't belong there either. As far as he could see, none of the Hogwarts houses fitted him anymore.
"Hi Harry," someone said. Harry jumped in surprise, but he relaxed when he saw it was Ron.
"Hi Ron," replied Harry dutifully, "what are you doing up so late?"
"So early, you mean?" said Ron with a short laugh. "It's nearly six a.m."
"Oh." Harry waited for Ron to continue talking.
"Actually, your snake woke me. You should be more careful, you know," Ron advised after a short moment of silence. "I would never hurt Akin as he's your pet, but I can't speak for Dean and Seamus. They are dead tired of him, seriously. I've heard them make jokes about how they can `accidentally' kill him and stuff."
Harry frowned angrily at this, and thanks to old habits he was already plotting how he could make Seamus and Dean pay for their jokes. However, deep down he also knew he would never act on it. Not now as he remembered them as friends. Besides, they joked about many things. Surely they didn't mean it? Surely they wouldn't really hurt Akin?
Ron leaned back in the armchair he was sitting in and stretched his arms above his head with a yawn before he smiled mischievously at Harry. "The question is ... what are you doing out of bed at this hour?"
Harry resisted the urge to take a step back. "Why do you ask?"
"No reason," Ron shrugged. "You asked me, so I asked you."
"Oh, I was just walking around, to look at things. It has been a while since the last time I were here, you know." Harry could've kicked himself for the bad excuse, but Ron just nodded in understanding.
"No kidding. It's already spring, and you've only been here less than two months of the entire year," Ron said. Suddenly his face adapted such a serious expression it was almost comical. "Was it ... you know, horrible there?" Ron leaned forward, still with the same expression in his face. Harry noticed the expression didn't suit his friend at all; it gave him wrinkles and he looked stupid with his mouth hanging open. Harry stopped these thoughts quickly before they got too far and answered the question.
"It was no fun, if that is what you are asking ... but it was certainly a learning experience."
"I don't know how you deal with it all," continued Ron. "And now that you're finally here again, the same thing that happened to you happened to Hermione. How do you think she will handle being there?"
"I," Harry began, "I think she, er, well, I would like to say she can handle it, but I do not know what they are going to do with her. They do not have her for the same reason they had me. I believe they did not actually plan to capture her, it was me they really wanted. She is more like the bait, I think."
Ron's eyes were very wide. "Are you going to save her?"
"Of course," replied Harry at once.
"I'll come with you," said Ron quickly, looking excited at the prospect of a new adventure. "Do you know where she is and how to get there?"
"She is probably the same place I was." Harry sat on the armrest on the couch and looked at Ron seriously, purposely avoiding the last question. "But you cannot come with me." Harry held up his hand and continued before Ron could respond with an angry remark. "This is something only I can do. I know the place and I know the people. If both of us went, we would be discovered easier, it is too risky."
"But we always do things like this together," protested Ron meekly. "What's changed?"
"I have," muttered Harry, and he looked away. He got a very bitter taste in his mouth and he badly wanted to curse something from the unfairness of it all. "And the situation. We are at war, Ron, and Hermione's life is in danger. They are probably torturing information out of her as we speak, maybe even doing other unspeakable things." Harry shuddered as he remembered the not - so - innocent comment one of the Death Eaters had made about Hermione being a virgin or not. "You have no idea what kind of things they can do, Ron. They do not have any morals to anything except the Dark Lord's orders. The Death Eaters are going to guard her very carefully, perhaps even the Dark Lord himself. If you come, you will be a spare. Remember Cedric?"
Ron nodded. His face had gotten so pale, his freckles stood out clearly against his skin. Harry felt as though he had just cursed his friend with the Cruciatus, but it was necessary. Ron needed to grow up before something bad happened. At least he, Harry, had learned his lesson.
"Yeah, I remember him," said the red haired boy at last, looking defeated.
"Good," said Harry, grateful Ron had seen his reasoning.
They sat for a while in silence.
"Things are never gonna be the same again, are they?" asked Ron, but it didn't sound like a question. He looked very sad.
"No," admitted Harry. "We are not children anymore. We cannot simply put our heads in the sand and wait for everything to work out. In fact, I am not sure I believe everything will work out in the end anymore."
Ron didn't know what to say to that, but Harry hadn't been lying or exaggerating; he really did not believe things would work out in his favour this time. How could it, as long as Hermione was captivated by the Dark Lord? If Harry went there, he would probably have to change places with her, and then there would be absolutely no hope that he would be able to escape again.
This time, it was a lose - lose situation.
-
Harry became very depressed and secluded in the next few days, and for every day that passed, he grew more and more sure that he could never win the war without Hermione by his side. No matter what happened and no matter what he had to do, he had to go back to the Dark Lord and save her.
When Harry first acknowledged this was how it had to be, he felt that sooner was better than later. He couldn't bear the thought of Hermione having to be there in the death eater den longer than necessary. However, he had to wait until the Dark Lord activated the mark before he could do anything, as only the mark could transport him to the Stone Edge. The mark had bothered Harry frequently while he had been living with Annie, but not anymore. It was as though the Dark Lord knew how much Harry desired it to burn and avoided activating it just to mock him. Harry had never been more frustrated; days went by and he didn't even feel a tiny stab of pain! Harry actually would've suspected the Dark Lord to be either sick or dead had it not been for his scar, which would twinge with anticipation now and then, like to make up for the lack of pain from the mark.
Being back at Hogwarts was absurd for Harry. The castle, which he had truthfully called his home only a year ago, seemed false now; like an illusion or a soap bubble ready to burst. Nothing felt like it used to be.
Maybe it was because everyone stopped and looked twice at him every time they saw him, as though they couldn't quite believe he was real, or maybe it was because every girl who carried books or had brown hair reminded him of Hermione, but not having her by his side was like a wound that wouldn't heal, aching deep inside him. Harry felt terribly lonely and lost without her, and Ron was not nearly enough to make up for her absence.
Harry eventually returned back to his classes. Most of his teachers got teary-eyed whenever they saw him and let him get away with anything, which was fine with Harry. His classed didn't really interest him anymore and he did poor on his assignments. In subjects like Transfiguration and Potions, the class had moved to such complicated tasks that Harry doubted he would ever catch up.
On top of it, Harry's addiction to the Dark Arts began to make things difficult for him. He was determined to stop using them completely and he had avoided any situations where he might snap or fall for the temptation, but it became increasingly difficult to restrain himself. When he wasn't thinking about Hermione, he was thinking about dark curses and hexes. He was constantly sweating, his hands were shaking and it became difficult to focus on ordinary tasks. He became withdrawn and angry at everyone and everything. Most of his teachers took pity in him and assumed it was because of Hermione and his `horrible, traumatic experience,' but Harry knew it was only a matter of time before he messed up.
Snape was the one who made Harry the most nervous and self-conscious, so Harry began to avoid him as much as possible. The man wasn't as easily fooled as the other teachers and he kept shooting Harry suspicious looks. Harry knew he could blame himself for Snape's suspicion, though; he should've remembered that Snape had probably been addicted to the Dark Arts himself once, and therefore would know all the signs. They hadn't talked since their night in the dungeons and they weren't as hostile to each other as they had been once, but those looks told Harry that he had to be careful. The less the man knew about how hard Harry was struggling to keep his appearance up, the safer Harry and everyone else would be.
However, there were people Harry could not avoid, no matter how much he tried. Ron, but also Draco Malfoy. The Slytherin was particularly annoying and obnoxious and Ron seemed to make it his job to protect Harry, which was almost equally annoying.
Harry could not understand why Ron thought Harry couldn't take care of himself. It was quite ironic; considering how close Harry was to the edge these days, it was really Malfoy Ron should be protecting.
Harry's patience had gotten so paper thin that little could make him overreact and do something he would regret later. He wanted to wipe the smirk off Malfoy's face so badly that his wand nearly glowed in his pocket every time he saw the Slytherin, and he could feel `his darker self' bubble beneath the surface. The only thing that had kept him in check so far was because he needed to be ready so he could at least try to rescue Hermione.
With that in mind, Harry prepared himself mentally for the next lesson; Transfiguration.
"Come on, Harry, or we'll be late," said Ron sternly, and took Harry's arm and began to drag Harry down towards the Transfiguration classroom. Harry would've laughed if it had not been for the fact that the gesture reminded him of Hermione.
"I can find my own way down, thanks," sighed Harry. "I am familiar with the castle, believe it or not."
Ron got a little red on the top of ears, and let Harry's arm drop. "Fine."
Ron sped up his walk to the point where Harry almost had to run to keep up.
"Trouble in paradise?" said someone to Harry's left, and Harry didn't need to turn his head to see who it was to know the voice was Draco Malfoy's. Not bothering to answer or slow down, Harry left Draco behind and continued to follow Ron to the Transfiguration classroom, where most of the class was already waiting.
Harry felt his stomach tighten with a sudden nervousness when he saw the class staring at him.
"Hi guys," he muttered, not meeting anyone's eye or trying to talk with anyone. Luckily, at that moment, McGonagall appeared around the corner and opened the classroom door. Everybody piled in and Harry once again found himself having to follow Ron to a couple of seats in the back. This was the second Transfiguration class Harry had attended since he came back to the castle, and they were sitting in the exact same seats as last time. Harry wondered when that had changed; Hermione had made sure they were all sitting in the front for every lesson before Halloween, when Pettigrew appeared with the portkey and the unnaturally strong silver hand, taking Harry away.
McGonagall started the lesson.
"Today, we are going to continue working on human transfiguration. You are not to transfigurate your arm to the arm of a monkey's this time, but to one of a cat. Remember you should not practice this without supervision until you got it right. I assume you all know what a cat paw looks like, but if not -" here McGonagall waived her wand and produced a picture, animated so everyone could see the paw from every angle, "-you can look at this picture. You may begin."
Harry sighed as all the other students took out their wands and practiced the wand movement silently. Everyone seemed to take this quite seriously and Harry couldn't blame them - he would rather not make his arm explode or something like that. Harry didn't feel very confident about the spell at all, so he watched the other students for a while to get some tips on what to expect. Normally he would just ask Hermione, but given the situation it was rather difficult. Ron seemed to struggle with the spell as well so Harry didn't bother to ask him for help. Parvati, on the other hand, appeared to handle the task well. She was one of the first students to successfully transfigurate her arm into something that resembled a cat's. Harry remembered from the last Transfiguration lesson how she had showed everyone her animagus form; a small and pretty dark blue and black bird. An Asian Fairy bluebird.
Struck by sudden inspiration, he tapped Parvati on her shoulder, hoping she could give him some pointers.
"How do you do it?" he asked, leaning forwards so he didn't have to raise his voice so much. He remembered the depressed mess the girl had been in after her family was killed, and he was glad to see that her eyes were sparkling again. She didn't seem to have much contact with Lavender anymore, however.
"It's not that difficult really," said the dark haired girl with an encouraging smile. "Just wave your wand like this while you visualize what you want your hand to become in every detail, and then say Anima Basila. With a long `I.'"
"Um, okay, thanks," said Harry, only to figure out he still didn't get it. and he turned back to his desk again, only to figure out that he still didn't get it. He cleared his throat so he could get Parvati's attention again. "Does it hurt?"
"Not really," she replied. "Just tickles. It only hurts if you don't get it right. The first time I did it, it hurt really bad, I had to go to Madam Pomfrey and everything..."
Harry grimaced.
Parvati laughed, brushing some of her long black hair away from her face with her hand. "Hey, don't worry, if I can do it then you can too. Just relax and take it easy."
"Will do," said Harry, and he turned his attention back to his desk again. He rolled up his left sleeve and pointed his wand at the underside of his arm, only to discover that he was showing off the dark mark to the entire classroom. He let out a strangled yelp and quickly pulled his sleeve down, his heart beating madly in his chest. Harry quickly looked around, and saw that several students and McGonagall were watching him. He couldn't tell whether or not they had seen the mark.
"Is there a problem, Potter?" asked McGonagall, walking over to him.
"No, not at all," said Harry, a little too fast.
"Let me see you try the spell then," she said, waiting with her arms crossed over her chest. Harry could feel the tiny hairs in his neck stand and goose bumps appear on his skin. Was it just a trick to see if they had really seen a mark there?
"Um, now?" asked Harry with a small voice.
"Yes, now," said McGonagall sternly. "Or you will have to wait until the next lesson, and you need all the extra practice you can get. Come on, now."
"You can do it, Harry," said Parvati from the seat in front of him.
"Yes, you can," muttered Ron from his right, having finally gotten some ginger fur on his arm, although no more than that.
"What, are you like my cheerleaders now?" said Harry, too nervous to be particularly annoyed about it. Why did he hesitate? If he could produce a Patronus at age thirteen, then surely he could do this too?
Harry rolled up his sleeve again, making sure to keep the mark down to the desk so it was not visible to anyone. Merlin, he hoped they hadn't seen it!
He pointed cautiously at his arm with the Dark Lord's wand again, concentrating of what Parvati had said, only with Hermione's voice: Anima Basila. Anima Basiiila.
"Anima Basila!" he said, while he pictured the cat paw and giving the wand an extra flip. Nothing happened.
"Visualize," McGonagall advised. Harry resisted the urge to snap back. He was visualizing!
"Anima Basila!" he cried again, furiously, not caring that he had raised his voice so much that everyone else who weren't already watching stopped what they were doing and turned to stare at him. "ANIMA BASILA! This is not working, professor!"
"Take it easy, Potter," said McGonagall and she put her hand on Harry's right wrist to keep him from poking someone's eye out with his wand. "Your hand is shaking ... take a few deep breaths. It will be no use to hurt a student or destroy the classroom with a wayward spell."
Harry realized she was right, and he quickly put both of his hands in his lap in an effort to hide the shaking. He couldn't help thinking what the Dark Lord would do to him if Harry did this bad in one of their lessons. It would not be particularly pleasant.
"Can I leave? Please?"
McGonagall hesitated, but finally nodded. "All right. You need to regain your strength before doing advanced magic like this. I advice you to visit Madam Pomfrey just in case, to see if there is anything she can do."
Harry just nodded.
"Can I go with him, professor?" asked Ron, and lent forwards and whispered to McGonagall like he didn't want Harry to hear: "He shouldn't be alone right now."
Harry raised an eyebrow.
"Very well, mister Weasley. You may go as well."
Not saying a word, Harry packed his things. Everyone was treating him like he was a fragile porcelain doll and he hated it. He wished they could just all leave him alone.
-
"You know," Ron said as soon as they had exited the classroom and no one could hear them. "I think McGonagall has a soft spot for you, Harry."
Harry snorted.
"She has a point, though. You should go to Madam Pomfrey, you don't look too good."
"Gee, thanks Ron."
Ron continued as though Harry hadn't made a comment at all. "Are you sure you're not sick or something? You're sweating, your hands are shaking and you're too tired to do magic ... though the spell wasn't easy, I give you that."
"It is this stupid wand..." muttered Harry under his breath, just not loud enough for Ron to hear. He gave the Dark Lord's wand a hateful look. "I want my old one back."
"What? You want it all done, back? Sorry, mate, either I didn't hear you, or you're not making a lot of sense."
"I said there is no way I am going to Madam Pomfrey," Harry invented. "Hey, maybe I should just go to bed now and maybe I will feel better in the morning."
Ron hesitated. "I don't know, Harry, McGonagall said -"
"When did you start to listen to what she has to say anyway? I do not need a baby sitter, Ron!" Harry was truly annoyed now.
"It's not like that, mate -" started Ron, but Harry cut him off again.
"Look, it is probably nothing anyway. I should just take a nap." They had reached the Gryffindor portrait. "See you later." Biting out the password, Harry hurried inside and went right up to his bed. Not to sleep, however.
Finally being somewhere he didn't have to act wear a mask of normality, Harry's shoulders slumped with relief. He rubbed his face tiredly with his shaking hands. He didn't lie down, instead he sat with his back leaned against the wall and his feet curled beneath him.
Harry closed his eyes and tried to count silently to ten, but it didn't help. He held his hands in front of his face. Despite his very best efforts, he could not keep them from shaking. He even tried to sit on them, but then his elbows and shoulders started to shake and that, in his opinion, was worse. He didn't need Hermione to tell him it was because of all the suppressed dark energy that was flowing in his veins. He had been using the Dark Arts for so long that he had become addicted to it. How good wouldn't it be, to summon a bird or two and play with them a bit ... that would calm him, that would make him feel fit as a fiddle again...
No! Harry screamed inwardly. Never again! Never, never, never!
Fumbling with his wand he quickly muttered a silence spell to his throat. He couldn't take it anymore!
Desperate, Harry threw himself down on his bed, stuffed his face in his pillow and screamed as hard and as long he could.
Harry didn't know how long he screamed. No sound escaped him, but his throat was still sore when he stopped screaming at last. Not only did it only symbolize the unfairness of it all, but also predicted that he wouldn't have much voice to talk with the next day.
Harry closed his eyes to rest and finally dozed off, dreaming that he got to curse the Dark Lord and all the Death Eaters in existence over and over, with every dark curse he knew for making life so difficult for him.
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