CHAPTER TEN
A/N - Ooh, now the story's really getting going! I hope the last nine chapters have done an effective job of building the story up, but now its time for action! Or is it? Read on…
There was a sense of organized chaos as Tonks led David, Sarah, Harry, Ron and Hermione almost racing down the halls towards the Transfiguration classroom, where Professor McGonagall was preparing the room for the briefing. Tonks and David were at the front, talking quickly and in some kind of Auror-code that Harry couldn't understand half the time. But from what he was able to glean, it looked like they had found either a Horcrux, or someone who knew where one might be.
In no time at all the group found the Transfiguration classroom; Professor McGonagall was there, directing Mr. Filch, who was moving around chairs and desks with great difficulty. Several Aurors were there as well; Harry instantly recognized Mad-Eye Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt, but not the other two. David moved over to one of them and immediately started talking to him, in a way that conveyed that the two knew each other very well. This Auror looked about forty, and was of average height and build, with blue eyes and light brown hair swept back, balding on top. He spoke with a thick Cockney accent, way more so than David did.
Quickly, Professor McGonagall called the meeting to order, as everyone else took a seat facing her, aside from Kingsley who stood beside her. She cleared her throat, "Time is of the essence, so I will be brief. The Auror Department believes they have located a Death Eater sympathizer, who has knowledge of, and means to transport, a mysterious object of great Dark Magic power. He must be apprehended immediately."
"So this hasn't got anything to do with Regulus Black?" Harry whispered to Hermione beside him.
"Nor Macnair," She whispered back, "They must have just got lucky."
Kingsley Shacklebolt stepped forward, "The individual in question has been on a watch-list for some time, under allegations of involvement in Dark Magic," He explained, for the benefit of Harry, Ron and Hermione, and anyone else who may have not have known. As he looked at the faces around, he guessed only the three of them and Professor McGonagall knew about this for the first time.
Kingsley continued, "For the past half-hour we have had him tailed by an undercover Auror. According to her, he intends to take delivery of and pass on this object tonight. That leaves us with an extremely finite time window in which to act. He must be brought in quickly, without being able to alert anyone."
Mad-Eye Moody nodded from his seat; to Harry's eyes, the battle-worn old Auror hadn't changed one bit, "How do you plan on pulling that off?" He growled.
Kingsley nodded towards the Auror sitting next to David, the one that seemed to know him, "I've put Dennis Morgan in charge of this operation, I'll let him explain."
Dennis stood up, looking around and taking in the new faces, "Yeah," He said, in a thick East-End accent, "We ain't had enough time to try and identify who's bringing it to him, so we'll have to be ready to grab our man when the exchange is made, when he takes possession of the Horcrux…"
"Are you sure it's a Horcrux?" Harry asked.
Dennis shrugged his eyebrows, "To use two different middle-men to move the thing, I reckon it has to be."
Harry nodded.
Dennis continued, "We're gonna need a decoy, someone to distract attention while we make our move. On the off-chance that they know us, I want to use a non-Auror."
"I'll do it," Ron said. He caught Harry and Hermione both suddenly giving him urgently quizzical looks, "What?"
"Fine," Dennis said, "I'll take over the surveillance we've got on him right now, Mr. Weasley can stumble upon the exchange and play the innocent Muggle, and Kingsley, Mark (he nodded towards the other, rather anonymous-looking, Auror) and David here will make the grab. Once we have the Horcrux, Mad-Eye can destroy it."
"Might want to take a look at it first," Mad-Eye growled, "It could give us a hint about the other ones."
"Yeah, alright," Dennis said, "Alright, let's go."
"Hang on," Harry said, suddenly finding himself standing up and all pairs of eyes upon him, "What about me?"
Dennis glanced across at Professor McGonagall, who interjected, "Mr. Potter, could I speak to you for a moment?"
Suddenly feeling a hot surge of anger, Harry's face hardened as everyone else, apart from Hermione, quickly filed out of the classroom. Harry stood still, defiant, "What's going on?"
The professor stepped closer to him, "Are you feeling alright, Potter?"
"Yeah, fine," Harry replied tensely, "Why?"
"I was informed by Mr. Adams this morning before your class of the…unusual experience the two of you shared."
"That was a shortcut to learning what he knew," Harry stated plainly, "What's wrong with that?"
"Nothing," Professor McGonagall said simply, "It appears to have had no lasting side-effects, either. However, it is the short-term effects that concern me."
"What do you mean?" Harry asked, his tone one of accusation. Behind him, Hermione watched apprehensively.
"Adams told me that it can take several days for one's mind to fully recover," The professor explained. She shook her head, "I'm sorry Potter, but as I am responsible for your well-being here, I decided against your involvement in this operation."
"What?" Harry said, much louder and angrier than he had meant. But his insides were burning with anger…and all of it was directed at David.
"I understand how you feel, but…" Professor McGonagall started,
"No," Harry interrupted, his voice dark and threatening, but controlled, "that's the thing, Professor; no one understands how I feel."
He turned on his heel and stormed out of the room.
* * * * *
Wherever Voldemort is, he's laughing.
Harry stomped down the corridor like a man possessed; his feet fell heavily against the floor, his breathing harsh and labored. He was almost blinded by the rage boiling over inside himself.
How the hell could they turn on me?
That same question ran through his mind over and over, shouting so loud so as to drown out his rational side. This is only temporary, you're not well…what are you talking about, I'm fine…
Finally Harry stopped, his legs tiring from the relentless pounding they had endured. Harry looked around, and found himself on the outside walkway, between the school and the grounds near Hagrid's hut. He stopped and leaned forward against the railing, watching the early afternoon sky. His heart-rate and his breathing began to slow, as another thought entered his head; they don't think you're up to it.
That one nailed him; Harry felt as if he'd been physically winded. What am I supposed to be feeling?
What kind of message did this send to the Dark Lord, if the Chosen One needed a bail-out like this when things started getting serious?
This time, Harry heard the softly-trodden footsteps approaching; he didn't move his head, he knew who it was. That knowledge was, right now, both an annoyance and a comfort.
"For the record, Harry, I understand how you feel." Hermione said, as she stopped a few meters away from Harry, arms crossed.
"Why don't you fill me in?" Harry said hotly, "Because I haven't got a clue."
"You're wondering how much you can justify hating David for all this," Hermione said, as she began to slowly edge closer to him, "After all, it's through what he did that you're here."
"Sounds good to me," Harry said simply, still looking out over the horizon, wishing he was somewhere beyond the furthest outline.
"And then you stop and think about it. You remember that you asked him for his help, and you also realize that he had no way of knowing the break in the case would come when it did."
"Anything else?" Harry said sarcastically.
"Yes," Hermione said testily, "There's also the fact that it was he that pushed to have you included in the mission regardless, and Professor McGonagall shot him down. She just told me."
"He could've kept his mouth shut…"
"Oh grow up, Harry!" Hermione shot back sharply, "He had to tell her! He would have been criminally negligent if he hadn't."
"So now I owe him one?" Harry asked, turning to look at her for the first time.
Hermione shook her head, "I'm saying that right now, there's a group of people out there, Ron included, risking their lives to help us."
"It should've been us, Hermione. Just you, me and Ron."
"That was before we realized that we aren't alone," Hermione said, leaning on the railing beside Harry. He had looked away again, but she saw the way his eyes were working, trying to make sense of everything she had just said. At least he is thinking now, she thought. He did seem a little calmer, as well.
Hermione placed her hand over Harry's, giving it a gentle squeeze, "Don't let it weigh you down, Harry," She said softly, "No one can save the world by themselves."
Harry turned his face to hers, some of the same old Harry in his eyes. He sighed, "I know."
For a couple of minutes they stood there. Harry secretly enjoyed the feeling of Hermione's hand on his…it just seemed like it fit there. Okay, let's not get back into this right now…
"You really are getting good at this," Harry said, smirking a little.
"I've had the practice," Hermione replied, smiling.
"Thanks," Harry said, thinking of no better way to articulate the message.
"No need to thank me," Hermione said, "it comes with the territory."
She took his hand in hers and gently tugged him along, and they began walking back towards the school.
"I could probably keep a psychologist in business," Harry said.
Hermione laughed, "Yeah, you should be paying me!"
"Not a chance…" Harry said, finally allowing himself to break a smile.
"You know, we should really go see Hagrid," Hermione said, "I miss him."
"He's been trying to keep out of the way of all these Aurors," Harry said, "But I could do with a change of pace."
* * * * *
Harry and Hermione spent the rest of the afternoon in Hagrid's hut. To Harry, it felt great; the chance to just sit around and laugh. It turned out that Hagrid had been keeping himself busy, keeping his eye out for the grounds in the face of several improvements that the Ministry had seen fit to make. The tales of Hagrid's latest misadventures in protecting his Blast-Ended Skrewt enclosures and Flobberworm hatcheries made Harry laugh at the image. If he was a Ministry official and Hagrid had come at him with an umbrella, he'd leg it.
The afternoon had trickled into evening by the time Ron came in through the front door. He was sweaty and wearied, but looked across at Harry and smiled, "We got `em, mate. One Horcrux down."
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