Chapter 23: Confessions of a Dangerous Mind
`Incendio!'
Harry was filled with a thrill of expectant dread as he pointed his wand into the fire and lit it. He was about to find out about Ron's peculiar behaviour, and maybe get an insight into the plans of the person responsible. He also knew it would mean forcing Ron to admit he was at fault, something both hard for him and enjoyable for Harry on a sadistic level. He hoped that feelings such as this last one would go, he didn't like thinking so poorly of his best friend.
Ron was shivering with the cold, his dressing gown was a hand-me-down and was becoming rather threadbare. His slippers, too, were ragged and had holes in the soles, which must have chilled Ron's feet on the cold stone floor. He stumbled nervously across to a chair by the fire and stared into the flames, now crackling briskly in the hearth. He didn't look at Harry for several minutes.
Harry himself was getting restless. He knew he couldn't push Ron on this; it was he, after all, who had woken Harry in the middle of the night for this little chat. Harry wanted badly enough to know what Ron's explanation would be, to ruin the opportunity by letting his lack of patience get the better of him. He smoothed Crookshanks, who had followed them down from the dormitory and Harry had the inkling that once the debate was over the cat would return to his owner, ready to recount the night's events when she woke. The ways this would be achieved occupied Harry's mind until Ron spoke.
`Harry…I'm in danger,' said Ron bluntly. These weren't exactly the words that Harry was expecting to hear but he could tell from Ron's voice that they were sincere.
`How? What danger are you in?' Harry asked.
`I don't know…I just am. People are trying to hurt me, or people close to me. They'll hurt me if I do what they want and hurt me if I don't. I just don't know what to do anymore.'
`Who's trying to hurt you?'
`I don't know. But I know they are.'
Harry was starting to get frustrated Ron wasn't making any sense and talking in riddles. He seemed reluctant to give any information, reminding Harry forcibly of Dobby when he disobeyed the Malfoy's whilst under their ownership.
`I need more than this, Ron,' said Harry frankly. `And considering you've woken me up at…whatever time this is, I think you owe me more than this meaningless double-talk. How do you know…whatever it is you know?'
`I can hear them, Harry,' replied Ron pointedly, `in my head. They come into my dreams when I sleep, sometimes I can be in class and they start speaking. They always take different forms; sometimes a man, other times a snake, even a great beast that was like a fire monster. But the voice is always the same; horribly cold and high pitched and without any feeling at all, I've even heard my own voice go like that. But I don't know anyone with a voice that sounds anything like it.'
Harry did. He was about to tell Ron who he thought the voice might belong to but he looked so terrified and white, possibly at the thought of Voldemort possessing him, that Harry thought the news that the voice probably did belong to Voldemort would probably kill him.
`How long as this been going on for?' Harry asked.
`Quite a while, I'm not sure how long.'
`What does it feel like? How do you know when its happened?'
`Sometimes I black out. Other times I can find myself doing stuff and cant remember why or how I started doing them. Like, I can be in class, writing notes and not know how long I've been doing it. I had this before we came back to school this year, before we met in Diagon Alley. It got worse over Christmas. My mum thought I was going mad cos I kept walking into things and was acting all distant. Its really scaring me, Harry.'
Harry felt sorry for Ron, and quite useless in his inability to ease his best friend's fears.
`What kind of things does this voice make you do?' Harry asked.
`I don't know, I can never remember,' said Ron ruefully, `I forget it when I'm awake but I can remember bits when the voice talks to me in my dreams. But you know what its like trying to remember details of your dreams, its almost impossible. I've got a pretty good idea what the overall aim is though…'
`What?' Harry asked, though he thought he knew what was coming.
`I think…its all about you. Hurting you…or…or worse.'
`And when you did these things, all these things designed to hurt me, you just did them? You didn't try to resist at all? Harry said, his temper bubbling away somewhere below the surface.
`Like I said, half the time I don't know what I'm doing. Its like I'm in my body but someone else is controlling it and there's nothing I can do. Sometimes I do things but don't know I've done them till its already done. There have been a few times when I haven't had a choice; the voice says its going to hurt my family. Ginny especially. It knows things, private things about me and about my family. Its scary, Harry. Its made me tell lies…do things…I've tried to fight but I'm not strong. I cant throw it off. I'm not…I'm not…you.'
It was this last line that threw Harry. He had been expecting Ron to concede his failings but not directly devalue himself against Harry. It stunned him and left him unable to respond for a few minutes, during which Ron went quite red and became very interested in the patterning of the fire surround.
Harry leant forward, his head resting on his interlocked fingers. Ron looked at him out of the corner of his eye, a look that said he expected Harry to gloat at Ron's admission that Harry was better than him. Though he had wanted to do this before, all such thoughts were gone from his head.
`So…you've done things,' said Harry thoughtfully, more to himself than anything.
`Yeah, but nothing violent,' said Ron trying to redeem himself, `mostly it was just things to get you angry. Kicking you off Quidditch, getting between you and Hermione once I knew you both fancied each other, being really horrible to everyone. I had to make you mad, make you do something terrible so you'd be really angry. For some reason, I was told to make you feel strong emotion.'
`So,' continued Harry, again mostly to himself, `he wanted me to feel strong emotion. Maybe so he could lock onto me. If I was angry he could get to me, pinpoint me maybe. But why? He couldn't have gotten me out of Hogwarts.'
`I hope `he' isn't the person I think you're on about,' said Ron, terror sliding around his voice.
`Maybe he wanted to distract me.' Harry went on, as though Ron hadn't spoken, `He wanted my back turned, my attention elsewhere so that I'd miss the bigger picture. He knew he couldn't get to me directly, like last year. He'd expect me to have worked out that I shouldn't trust everything I see in my dreams. So he had to throw me off course another way.
`Dumbledore said he knew my heart. He knew my heart! That must mean he knew about Hermione…what I was starting to feel for her. He knew that if something happened to stop us being together it'd distract me enough to throw me off the scent completely.'
`But why not just hurt her?' Ron asked mortified.
`Here? Couldn't get to her. Dumbledore…the teachers. No chance. Why not go for her parents? Maybe he didn't think of it -'
`- or thought Dumbledore would've protected them,' suggested Ron enthusiastically.
`Yeah. So he had to do something else. Make things harder for me so that I'd focus on Hermione alone as my one good thing…then take it away. You turned against me…I lost my Quidditch place…I bet he made Lucius put old Draco up to that newsletter thing. Just to help out, and maybe hurt me in the process. Once I was out of it and depressed completely he could target me, for whatever he wanted, even to keep me out of the way. Then his other plan could kick into play. But what's the plan?'
Ron didn't answer. Harry frowned at the thoughts in his head. There was more going on here, he was certain of it. He felt like he had a jigsaw with all the important bits missing. Then he had a thought.
`I was attacked on holiday,' he said musingly, `they tried to kill me. Obviously the plan with Hermione didn't work cos she didn't fall for it. But the other plan must still be in place. And it probably still involves you. Ron…did anything weird happen to you in Norway.'
`No, well, unless you include Ginny pushing me into a fjord and I woke up with a bump on my head half a mile away.'
`Ginny! Yes, that's it. Ginny's been acting weird too. Glazed eyes, vacant expression, that day in Hogsmeade when I saw…'
Harry heard his voice trail off as a sickness erupted in his stomach. He looked at Ron, his expression pained and expectant. Was this really the situation? It didn't make much sense but it was a start.
`When you saw what?' Ron pestered.
`I saw her…talking with…well, with Draco.'
`Malfoy?'
`How many other Draco's do we know? Hold on!' Harry found his eyes drawn to Ron's hair, his mind remembering the ways he had been talking at times since he returned from Norway. Another idea entered his mind.
`I'm still holding on!' cried Ron desperately.
`Oh…yeah, sorry. Its just…well, have you drunk anything funny lately?' Harry asked.
`No…but, now you mention it, there's this odd bottle of weird stuff under my bed. Tastes foul, thought it might have been one of Neville's herbology projects. Why?'
`Its just that, in Potions, we're making this Draught that make you like someone else. Sort of like the Polyjuice Potion without changing shape. I was thinking what Hermione said about your hair being lighter, and about you trying to sleep in my bed and talking in a drawl and, well, Malfoy-ish. Maybe you've been drinking this Draught.'
`So what are you saying?' cried Ron as if he was being violated, `I've been drinking essence of Malfoy and being a git?'
`Its just a thought,' said Harry lightly, `It just makes a bit of sense. Malfoy was kicked out, so he wants to help out daddy and get back at us. Somehow, he gets to Ginny, maybe his dad taught him the Imperius Curse! Yes! That's what he was doing that day in Hogsmeade. He makes her take the Potion from him and feed it to you…then makes her do things against her will. She's been controlled before, remember? Maybe it makes you weaker if you've been possessed before.'
`Hey, here's a thought!' Ron said loudly, `Maybe that's why Snape's started teaching you that Potion. He's making it and giving it to her to feed to me. That's why he's doing it with you. It's a good cover if he says it's a project.'
`Or,' said Harry somewhat reluctantly, `maybe it's a clue.'
`A clue for what?'
`To me. It seems a bit pointless to learn it. He said so himself, more or less. Said it was like another potion we have to make. Maybe he cant tell me what he's up to cos Voldemort - stop wincing - will know he's betrayed him. He's a spy for our side. Maybe he was trying to hint to me that the potion was part of the plan, so I have to worm it out of him.'
`Is that likely?' Ron asked doubtfully.
`I don't know, maybe its Dumbledore's idea. I'll ask Snape in my next class. Aaah! I haven't got Potions till Wednesday. Never thought I'd complain about that!'
There wasn't much more to say and after ten minutes or so of refining this wacky theory Harry decided it was time for bed and made his way up. Ron, professing that he would never sleep again, stayed by the fire. He still hadn't entered the dormitory by the time Harry had fallen asleep
The next day trickled by as if taunting Harry by showing how slow it could be when he wanted more than anything for it to fly by. He filled Hermione in on the theory during Transfiguration and she was so distracted by the idea that she accidentally transfigured her racoon into a skunk, which immediately let off a foul smelling odour and the classroom was emptied for several minutes whilst Mr Filch fumigated the place.
Harry, himself, paid so little attention during his Care of Magical Creatures class that while learning to destroy a Chizpurfle infestation he accidentally spilt two jars of potions. These potions were never meant to be mixed and the upshot was that the mixture caused several small explosions and set fire to the Chizpurfle tray, promptly killing the parasites. Hagrid, who loved devastation of any kind, applauded Harry on the discovery of a truly effective purging method, awarding him top marks.
The afternoon Defence Against the Dark Arts class was an experience; Dumbledore deciding to demonstrate non-incantation duelling with Harry as his assistant. By the end of the class Harry had been transfigured, banished, summoned, shrunk, chained up, tickled until he cried, and even made to experience a terrible nightmare - Dumbledore transfiguring his school robes into a blue, sparkly magician's assistants dress. The headmaster's idea of a light end to the class not concurring with Harry's idea of a good time.
Still, he forgave Dumbledore when he explained that he'd seen the vision in Harry's mind during Occlumency and didn't mean it as an offence, though Harry thought he looked truly offended when he commented that it was the sort of thing Snape might do. What concerned Harry more than anything was the oddly furtive looks Justin Finch-Fletchley kept casting him as they left the classroom.
The lesson-inspired teasing had been discarded by dinner time, Harry's sole train of thought concerning Snape and getting some answers. Had he been less preoccupied he would have ordinarily realised that there were other people he could talk to in aid of his quest for understanding, namely Ginny Weasley. So consumed was he with his only thought, however, than any other sensible, and logical, sidebars went out the window.
Ron, Harry was happy to say, was his normal self. His hair was still dark and fiery and his dry wit still intact. No signs of his Malfoy transformation had been seen all day, though he did confess to a growing desire for more of the mixture in the bottle. Again, if it wasn't for his focus on Snape, Harry would have thought to ask Ron for the bottle so he could destroy it.
`You know, funny thing,' said Ron through a mouthful of chicken pie, `the only time I've felt clear throughout this entire experience is when I'm talking to Luna. Isn't that weird?'
`Maybe its because she's a bit Loony,' said Hermione curtly, though Harry couldn't tell if this was due to her low opinion of Luna or her disgust at Ron speaking with his mouth full, `perhaps she was so out of it, like she normally is, you thought she was a kindred spirit!'
`What do you two talk about anyway?' Harry asked, making sure he swallowed his food first as he could feel Hermione's gaze on him.
`This and that,' said Ron evasively, `she does most of the talking. Gets me to talk about myself a lot. She talks to herself all the time. Always muttering, just under her breath. So I cant hear it, you know? Its weird. Never shuts up.'
`Probably wondering is there's a Crumple Snouted Whatsits Face nearby,' smirked Harry; Ron looked oddly affronted.
The next morning finally arrived and Harry felt like he'd betrayed his most valued principles when he was the first to turn up for Potions. He hoped it would be worth it, otherwise he'd never be able to forgive himself. Snape breezed in to the class shortly after the last of the stragglers, of which Harry was usually one, stumbled into line. Harry sat at the back with Hermione, who looked nearly as anxious as Harry felt.
Harry wasn't able to concentrate and as a result his potion didn't come out very well, a fact Snape picked up on immediately. This time, however, Harry found himself glad that Snape had picked on him.
`Well, well, Potter,' said Snape silkily, `back to your usual standards I see. I knew it couldn't last. Shall I vanish this now? Or leave it for all to see, an example of just how wrong a potion can be brewed. Perhaps…' his eyes bored into Harry's for what seemed like an eternity, `your mind is otherwise engaged. Dare we hope your intuition is a little better than your potion-making?'
He whispered the last part and Harry felt certain he had communicated his intent to Snape when he looked in his eyes. It hadn't worked in Professor Umbridge's office last year but maybe Snape had brushed up since then.
It certainly seemed so. At the end of the lesson it was Snape who called Harry back to stay, much to his surprise.
`Close the door, Potter,' said Snape quietly as Hermione disappeared through the door, `do not speak. This is regarding that homework project I set you. The one on the Draught we are working on? I assume you have…well, got to grips with it by now. Judging by our little chat earlier I can see that it still needs more work. However, I am not here to help you directly, I never give help personally to any student. However, I understand Professor Dumbledore is teaching you the subject I was unable to. Maybe you will succeed with him, though I doubt it. Perhaps, if you work hard in that lesson you will gain an…insight that may be of some use to you. And by the looks of things you need all the help you can get. Now get along with you.'
Harry stalked up the staircase and out of the dungeons mulling over Snape's words. They made no sense, he wasn't good at logic. He didn't have the understanding. For this he needed brains, he also needed someone good at riddles. He needed -
`Hermione…what do you think?'
Harry had recounted the conversation with Snape as the man himself made them take long notes on banshees during their Defence Against the Dark Arts class. Snape hadn't looked at Harry once and he got the feeling that Snape was purposefully avoiding him, as if afraid his look or voice would imprint a mark on him, one Voldemort could interpret. It was as if Snape were afraid of this, but whether for himself of Harry was anyone's guess.
`Well,' said Hermione pensively, `if you're right and Snape cant tell you directly then what does he mean about Dumbledore? The only thing I can think is it has to do with Occlumency. Would that help you in any way?'
`Yes…yes! I cant believe I didn't see it before! Why cant I be as smart as you? You're supposed to have brains or beauty…its so wicked that you have both!' said Harry vociferously.
`Do you mind keeping your pillow talk to the…well, pillow, Mr Potter?' said Snape coolly, several people sniggered.
It didn't matter, though; Hermione had cracked it. Harry remembered Dumbledore saying that he would get to face Snape in an Occlumency battle once he was ready. Snape's message was cryptic but Harry now had it deciphered. He reckoned that Snape would allow him to break his mind to show him whatever it was that would help him along. Either that or he would put the thought into Harry's Pensieve, or his own, for Harry to see. Either way, Harry now had a purpose: he had to learn to read minds, before other minds did their damage.
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