The Darkness Within
Chapter 13: Amongst Friends
Harry dumped his Quidditch gear on the floor and took out some clean clothes from his trunk. The bathroom door had just closed shut behind him, when he heard someone bursting into the sixth year boys' dormitory.
"Harry! I have to -"
He draped the towel around his shoulders and leaned against the door, absentmindedly rubbing the half-healed wound on his shoulder, trying to decide whether he should forego his shower and see what Hermione wanted, or ignore the girl in favour of personal hygiene. He heard the dorm door open once again, and loud footsteps came stomping into the room. Oh, yes - Ron, those footsteps were unmistakable. How could one person make the sound of a herd of hippogriffs would? A herd of hippogriffs on a stampede, at that.
Deciding that with the end of Quidditch practice, leaving the bathroom open for invasion was out of the question, Harry stepped away from the door. The last thing he heard was Ron questioning Hermione about her presence.
"Sorry," she said, "I was looking for Harry. I just ran into Professor McGonagall and she said that -"
The rest of her answer was lost in the noise of cascading water.
When Harry walked back into his room some twenty minutes later, the only person there was Ron, who was lying on his bed. He glanced at Harry over the top of the magazine he was reading.
"Done with your shower? Honestly, I don't see why you have to come up here after every practice. Everyone else gets changed in the locker room."
Everyone else doesn't have a Dark Mark on their arm. "It's crowded," he answered dismissively.
Ron snorted. "If you say so. Hasn't been a problem before though."
Harry ignored him, and walked over to his own bed. He picked up his Quidditch robes he had carelessly thrown on the floor and placed them inside his trunk. That task complete, he looked over his shoulder.
"What did Hermione want?"
"Hermione?" Ron asked.
"Yes, Hermione." He slumped down on his bed. "I thought I heard her voice just now."
Ron put the Quidditch magazine aside and answered, "Oh, sorry, I forgot." He smiled sheepishly. "She came by to tell you that McGonagall is looking for you. You know," he added, "you should probably step by her office and see what she wants." Without waiting for a response, he grabbed his black school robes off his trunk and put them on, covering his jeans and maroon Weasley jumper. "Do you want me to come with you?"
"You must be bored." Harry smiled. "Or very curious about something."
"Well, it's not every day that McGonagall asks for you, when you haven't actually done anything." He hesitated, before continuing, "You haven't broken any rules recently, right?"
"If I had, you'd know about it." I don't think what I've done is against school rules.
"Very well," Harry said, while heading for the door. "I'll go and see what she wanted. Are you coming?" he called, one foot already on the stairs.
By the time Harry was knocking on the Transfiguration professor's office door, Ron had caught up with him. He was standing by Harry's side, slightly behind him.
"I think I'd better wait outside," he said suddenly. "After all, she was looking only for you."
As they heard her voice calling for them to enter, Harry grabbed Ron by the elbow and pulled the redhead into the office with him. He leaned over to whisper in his ear, "You wanted to come."
"Mr Potter," McGonagall said, sitting behind her desk, "and Mr Weasley; please, close the door."
Ron nudged the door closed, and the boys stepped into the pristine office. Every single volume on the bookshelf opposite the fireplace was placed in a straight line; every book had its place where it stood. The mantel was uncluttered but for the occasional framed photograph. A young, brown haired witch winked at Ron coquettishly, and he hastily averted his inquisitive eyes. His ears were a warm red, Harry noticed.
McGonagall coughed. "Gentlemen, could I please have your attention."
Ron blushed and snapped to attention; Harry gave his Head of House a shy smile. "Sorry, Professor," he said. "Hermione told us you wanted to see me?"
She placed the parchments she had been grading aside and folded her arms on the desk, absently smearing some of the red ink with the sleeve of her robe. She cleared her throat. "I have known you both since you first came to Hogwarts." McGonagall glanced at Harry. "And one of you even before that. Over the years I have seen you grow into the fine young men I see before me now…."
Both Harry and Ron were listening with growing unease and discomfort. They shared a wild look and Ron mouthed as discreetly as possible, "What's she on about?" Harry shrugged; he had no idea.
"You are nearing the last year of your education at Hogwarts and might already be considered full-grown wizards." She shifted in her seat, as though the last part of that sentence had been particularly hard to say. "Since you are already involved in the recent trouble with He Who Must Not Be Named, the Headmaster…" she paused, reconsidering her choice of words. "We in the Order of the Phoenix think it is time for you to start participating in the Order meetings."
Ron had a disbelieving smile on his face, and slowly, as comprehension dawned, he said, "Brilliant." He turned towards Harry, enthusiastically clapping his back. "We get to see some action, finally."
Harry managed a weak smile in response; the wheels in his head were turning, trying to figure out how to go about actively fighting for both side. The only real option he could see was to leave Hogwarts for good: it was finally time to declare his allegiances. Only, Harry wasn't completely sure he wanted to do that, leave all his friends behind; he would even miss the schoolwork.
McGonagall interrupted his musings by answering Ron's comment. "Mr Weasley," she said, "you are allowed to observe Order meetings to keep up to date regarding recent events. Neither of you are going to be doing any fighting, not if I have anything to say about it. And, Mr Weasley, I daresay your mother will not let you out of her sight."
Harry suddenly found himself able to smile again. The terrified look Ron got in his eyes at the mention of his mother; and he had other reasons, too. He addressed McGonagall, "Professor, was that all?"
"Well, the Headmaster has asked me to inform you that you are welcome to sit in on your first Order meeting tonight at nine o'clock."
Ron was smiling and nodding eagerly, while Harry asked one more question, "When you say 'you', do you mean all three of us?"
"Yes, Mr Potter. Ms Granger has been invited to join you." She pushed her glasses up her nose and pulled the stack of parchments a little closer. "I shall collect you at the portrait hole at fifteen minutes to nine. Good day, gentlemen." She picked up her quill and dipped into a large bottle of red ink.
The boys hastily retreated and, on their way back to the Gryffindor common room, Ron could not stop talking about everything they could do now they were in the Order. He was really excited, Harry noted, and if this had happened some time in the autumn he would have been too.
As they climbed through the Portrait Hole, they noticed Hermione sitting in an armchair by the fire, in her usual spot. Without waiting for Harry, Ron ran up to her and sat down next to her. He was positively glowing with the news. Hermione carefully put down the book she had been reading, making sure to place a marker where she had left off. Then she turned to face the redhead. "Yes, Ron? What is it?"
"We're going to an Order meeting!" he whispered, leaning closer.
Hermione looked over his shoulder, a questioning eyebrow raised. "We are?" she asked Harry.
He nodded and lifted a hand to run his fingers through his hair, rumpling it a little more.
"When?"
"Tonight at nine." Ron couldn't control his excitement and jumped up to start pacing back and forth in front of the seated girl. "McGonagall is meeting us here, and then taking us to the meeting. Imagine, everybody is going to be there." He leaned restlessly against the side of her chair, continuing, "All the Aurors who are loyal to Dumbledore and … my brothers and … we'll be there. We get to be a part of everything. Ginny is going to be so jealous, and Fred and George! I can just see the look on their faces." He smiled dreamily. "I get to be in the Order while still at school."
Hermione picked up her discarded book and used it to tap Ron on the arm. "Aren't you forgetting something?"
His brow furrowed and he looked at Hermione, completely clueless. "Huh?"
"You are still at school, and you have homework to do." She waved the textbook she had been reading in front of his nose - Blood Brothers: My Life Amongst the Vampires. "Remember, we have an essay due tomorrow, and if you want to be at Order meeting tonight, you'd better start writing. Professor Saims isn't going excuse you just because you were saving the world."
Ron's face fell. "Bloody hell! I completely forgot. Couldn't I see yours? For inspiration -"
"Ronald Weasley, you have to do your own work. Besides, you need your own dark creature, you can't do the same as mine," she admonished.
"Well," he scratched his head, "do you think Professor Lupin would mind if I picked werewolves? Harry?" He tried to catch the attention of his friend, who had been listening to the bickering between his fellow Gryffindors with an amused little smile.
"Oh. No, I don't think he'd mind. However, I already did mine on werewolves. Sorry, Ron," Harry said, shrugging.
The redhead sighed. "You've finished it too, then?"
Harry gave an apologetic nod and sat down on the couch near Hermione's chair.
Ron straightened and started to walk towards the boys' staircase in a reluctantly slow pace, hands in the pockets of his robes.
"Well, I guess I'd better start on my essay …" He turned his head to look remorsefully at the cosy fire. "If neither of you will help me."
A red and gold pillow hit the side of his face. "Oh, get off it Ron! Go do your own homework," Harry said, grabbing another pillow and brandishing it in a mocking threat.
Ron snorted and disappeared up the stairs in a flash of black robes and carrot hair.
As soon as they heard the click of a door upstairs, Harry let the pillow drop and, wincing, rubbed his arm just below the shoulder. Hermione saw the look on his face and abandoned her chair for the time being, sitting closer to Harry and almost whispering in his ear, "Is your shoulder still bothering you?"
"No, not really."
Hermione sneaked a look around, to see if anybody was trying to follow their conversation, but the common room was half-empty and those present were caught up in their own activities. Still, she whispered carefully, "The Dark Lord assured me that this is the best potion and should heal your wound quickly. But it's only been a couple of days, so might not be working properly yet."
"No, it's working all right," Harry assured her in the same quiet tone of voice. "Even the scar is fading; soon there won't be a mark left. I just think I might have sprained something today at Quidditch practise."
"Oh." Hermione pulled away a little. "Boys and their games. You were seriously hurt just recently, and you go play in a sport, where it's common practice to hit your fellow players with heavy iron balls, hurled at great speeds. Honestly."
"It's not like I could have missed practice. I am the captain, and people would have got really suspicious if I hadn't played."
"You could have said you weren't feeling well." She sat up straighter and tilted her nose just a tiny bit upwards.
"With a major attack by Voldemort a few days ago? An attack I did not have a vision of, and only just heard about from Dumbledore? What do you think would have happened, if I had claimed any sort of trivial illness to get out of practice? Everyone knows how much I love Quidditch and that only something really important could stop me from playing. I would have been sent straight to Madam Pomfrey. With a half-healed wound of unexplainable dark origin on my shoulder, I might add. That would have led straight to a conversation with Dumbledore. And where would we be then?" He raised an eyebrow. "It's a lot better to risk a mild sprain than that, wouldn't you agree?"
Hermione had the decency to blush, but her shoulders didn't slump, and she accioed her book bag. She then proceeded to dig out two large leather-bound volumes. "Well," she said, "seeing as we still have half an hour before Professor McGonagall comes to collect us, we might as well get in some extra studying." She steadily refused to look Harry in the eye while placing the book in his outstretched hand.
As she leaned forward, a small golden star slipped out of the collar of her school blouse, tangling between the opened folds of her black robes that absorbed the small sparks of light the medallion cast around. She jumped a little as his hand closed around the glittering object; Harry opened his palm and looked at it quietly for a moment, his nose wrinkled in thought.
Then his questioning green eyes met hers. "You still have it. Why?" he asked. "Is it because he gave it to you? Remember, you are marked mine, you do not have his attention. That is mine and mine alone. I am his heir," he hissed softly, bleakness in his eyes. A darkness, residing deep in his soul.
Hermione suppressed a shiver as a sudden cold blew through the room. She shook her head rapidly. Something flickered in Harry's eyes and they returned to the familiar deep green, amusement and laughter shining through them.
He smiled and let go of the star. "I never thought you the jewellery type. Surrounding yourself with pretty trinkets?"
"Harry," she scoffed. "This is not a trinket. Don't you remember? It's a portkey created by V - You Know Who himself."
"Yes, yes. Of course, I remember. He gave me one just like it, you know." He continued, "They were emergency portkeys, however. For the battle. I don't see why you'd still have yours."
Hermione levelled him with a disbelieving stare. "Harry, they are portkeys to," she leaned closer and hissed in his ear, "Voldemort. They will take the user to him. You cannot leave things like that just lying around." With that, she stood up and tucked the medallion under her blouse.
The timing was perfect as, simultaneously, Ron came clambering down the stairs and the portrait hole opened to reveal the strict form of Professor Minerva McGonagall.
She observed her students for a moment. "Come," she said, and swept away, leaving the entrance to the Gryffindor Tower empty once again.
The trio climbed out and met her in the corridor.
"The meeting is about to start. Please follow me," she said, and started walking down the seventh floor corridor.
Hermione quickened her steps to catch up with her. She asked, "Professor, where are we going?"
"I do believe you are familiar with the place," said McGonagall, coming to a stop next to the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. She walked back and forth a couple of times and a door appeared in the opposite wall.
"Oh, of course," Hermione mumbled under her breath, "the Room of Requirement. What better place for an Order meeting."
The young Gryffindors trailed in after her. The room was already filled with people; sitting on chairs, chatting in small groups. Harry spotted several familiar faces; he waved to a purple-haired Tonks, who knocked over a small table in her enthusiastic swirl to wave back. An easily recognisable cluster of redheads was milling around a couch at the far side of the room. As the people noticed the teenagers, the medley of voices slowly quieted.
Mad Eye Moody cast an approving look in their direction, his wand hand clutching the thin air spasmodically. Tiny Professor Flitwick offered a happy smile in the general vicinity of Hermione, and Molly Weasley … Molly Weasley just went white in the face. Her eyes were firmly fixed on the nervous face of her youngest son, and she was clutching her husband's arm tightly. Slowly, she started to show the characteristics of a hot air balloon; she was drawing air in, breath by breath, red splotches of colour appearing on her face. The entire room of people had silenced and they were now watching the happenings with morbid curiosity. Like a model car being run over by a great big steam engine.
"Ronald Bilius Weasley! What do you think you are doing here?"
Ron flinched.
The soothing voice of Albus Dumbledore came from behind him, echoing in the void left by Molly Weasley's outcry, "Now, Molly, young Mr Weasley is here at my express permission. I have asked these youngsters to sit in on the Order meetings. I think it is time, don't you?"
"But - but -" she spluttered, "they're children. My children."
Dumbledore rested his hand on Ron's back. "I do believe that Mr Weasley and Ms Granger are of age, and Mr Potter is ward of the school while staying here. He has my permission to participate in the meeting."
Mrs Weasley stared at Dumbledore open-mouthed, gaping like a fish while Mr Weasley tried to pull her down to sit next to him in the gaggle of assorted Weasley children. She gave in to the pressure and sat down heavily, still glaring daggers at her youngest boy. Ron gulped and nervously shifted closer to Hermione, as though certain that the protection of such a formidable young witch could spare him from the wrath of Mother.
Harry sat in an empty chair next to the wall while Hermione and Ron sat together on a small couch as far away from the other Weasleys as possible.
Dumbledore called the meeting to order. "We have something very important to discuss tonight," he said. "As some of you know, Voldemort has been rapidly gaining in strength. Not only that, he has carried out a successful attack against the Ministry of Magic itself. The most recent development though, is the most distressing. It has now been confirmed that Voldemort has named an heir." Quiet murmurs travelled across the room as the inhabitants nodded their acknowledgement of this piece of news.
"This is grave news for the side of Light." He paused for a moment. "It has also been brought to my attention that said heir has a partner. We now have a couple, willing to carry out Voldemort's plans and advance them should anything happen to him.
"Due to this news, I have made it a priority to discover the identities of these new Death Eaters. I am certain that you agree with me; it is imperative for us to stamp out these weeds of evil, before they have time to spread. We cannot allow for a situation where every dark lord defeated reveals a new one, trained and ready to take his place …"
Hermione was looking intently at Dumbledore, apparently in deep concentration, but Harry's mind was blank. Just blank. He listened to Dumbledore's speech but he didn't hear it. Somewhere deep inside a voice was hissing contemptuously, 'You missed it, didn't you. You weren't as clever as you thought. Neither of you. Too arrogant; so sure of your invincibility. You forgot.' He shook himself; Dumbledore was still speaking.
"… agreed to give us his report. Severus?"
The dark-robed wizard stepped out of the corner he had been standing in and turned to address the gathering. His robes were moving dramatically around his body and his dispassionate face seemed almost animated as he started speaking in a cold, drawling voice.
"Headmaster Dumbledore asked me, exactly three days ago, to concentrate all my efforts on finding out the identities of the heirs. I left that very evening for the Dark Lord's mansion."
The wizard was not a natural storyteller; nevertheless, he had a rapt audience.
"As luck would have it, the Dark Lord was sorely in need of a complicated potion. He never questioned my presence and ordered me to retreat to the basement laboratories to immediately start work on a healing potion. I was to deliver it to the Lord personally, once I was finished."
Snape started to walk slowly around the room, occasionally stopping near some people, talking as he moved, "I brewed the potion and took it to his audience chamber. He told me to leave and I did … but … I did not leave the mansion. I stood disillusioned near the entrance to this room. I stood, and I waited." He smiled almost predatorily while stopping near Mad Eye's chair.
"I waited … I did not have to wait long." He was walking around the room again. "A woman in a heavy, hooded robe came down the corridor. She was wearing the white mask of a Death Eater, but her walk was entirely too confident for someone about to approach their Master …"
The tall, pale wizard was roaming amongst the various groups sitting in the room.
"She lifted her hand to knock, and her hood fell."
Hermione was sitting comfortably next to Ron on the couch. Harry was leaning forward intently. Snape had stopped behind Ron.
"I can never mistake that hair for another's," he whispered softly to the silent room.
His hand landed on a head full of brown curls.
The entire room seemed to collectively intake a breath. Ron was turning to face Hermione; he reached out with his hand. She was clutching her chest. Albus Dumbledore had his wand out. Snape's hypnotising voice was intoning a word.
"Expellia -"
Ron's hand had grabbed hold of her arm. And Harry saw a small golden star hanging between the folds of her black robes.
As the spell resounded in the air, an empty couch stood innocently in the middle of the Room of Requirement.
… to be continued …