Some names, locations, characters, and objects described in this work are © J.K. Rowling. In these cases, the names, locations, characters, and objects are used without permission under the Fair Dealings provision of the Copyright Act of 1976, USC 17 §107. Other names, locations, characters, and objects that are referenced, implied, or alluded to are © their respective owners, and are used under the same conditions. The remainder of this work is licensed by the author under a Creative Commons Attribution Non-Commercial Share Alike 3.0 Unported license. To view a copy of this licence, visit http://creativecommons. org/licenses/by-nc-sa/3.0/ or send a letter to Creative Commons, 171 Second Street, Suite 300, San Francisco, California 94105, USA.
Chapter title attributed to the Bible: "Wrath is cruel, and anger is outrageous, but who is able to stand before envy?" (Proverbs 27:4 KJV)
Chapter 12: Who is able to stand before envy?
That night, Harry had another dream. This one began the same as the others, with him falling down a dark tunnel and stopping just above a slowly rotating Tower of dark stone. On an unseen cue his eyeballs began to itch terribly, the Tower spun more rapidly, and the blended shadows turned into a different image entirely. He didn't know why, but the scene he looked upon now terrified him like nothing else ever had.
The entire world was black and white, like the old television programs his cousin and uncle sometimes watched, as though someone had leeched all the colours from the world and left it in various shades of grey. He was standing to the side of a long road, straight as an arrow and seemingly endless. Crowds of people enclosed him on all sides, cheering. Everyone was wearing a dark badge, shaped like a circle. Every few feet, somebody was wearing a badge that was half-dark and half-white. He pushed his way to the edge of the road.
Soldiers were lining it, keeping the crowds at bay. Soldiers and robed figures who could only have been Death Eaters. They were not wearing badges. On the street, marching as though to the gates of Hell itself, were hundreds of people. Their clothes were ragged, their shoes tearing at the seams, and their faces were downcast. Some of them didn't even look to be alive, but they walked regardless. Each one was wearing an all-white badge. Every so often one of them would stumble. If they could recover, they continued marching. If, however, they fell to the earth, one of the Death Eaters lining the sides of the street would kill them without hesitation. Harry looked back along the road; the bodies littered the streets in a horrific farce of a cobblestone street.
He watched, unable to move or speak, as person after person was slain by Death Eaters. Though, in retrospect, that was rather inaccurate. He was actually incapable of moving himself, though he found himself travelling alongside the rapidly thinning crowd of walkers. As the numbers dwindled, he could see a flash of colour in the midst of the pack; a flash of brown. Finally the rest of the walkers had been killed, leaving only the girl with the brown hair. She was looking resolutely down, so he was unable to see her face. There was a way about her he recognized, but nothing stirred in his memory.
Two Death Eaters strolled onto the street, as carefree as though they had been walking to church. They flanked the girl, forcing her to stop moving. Harry also found himself stopped, unable to look away from the scene. A dark rolling mist filled the air in front of her, and the man who called himself Lord Voldemort stood in the centre of the street. Cheers erupted from the crowds, raucous cries of joy at his appearance. They were quickly silenced with a single raised hand, whiter than snow. "Congratulations to the winner of the Long Walk." The Dark Lord's high-pitched voice cut through the air through the air. The crowd booed, throwing assorted junk at the girl. She did not stir. "Her prize: She will be granted death, and release from her disease-ridden body, from the ever-merciful Lord Voldemort." Harry snorted, but no one heard him. Not that he had expected them to. Voldemort drew a shaft of yew from his robe, and paused. "Unless, of course, someone wishes her to live." His vile red eyes scanned the crowd, not lingering even for a moment on Harry.
The girl, on the other hand, looked up and directly at him. His blood ran cold; it was Hermione. Her mouth opened, her lips were parched with thirst. "Help me Harry, please!" She screamed at him, her voice hoarse and the effort causing her physical pain. He wanted to speak up more than he had ever wanted anything in his entire life, but he could not. He opened his mouth to yell out, but no sound came from him. She continued to stare at him and cry out for him to help her, her voice growing weaker by the moment, even as Voldemort aimed his wand at her. His eyes were glittering with malice. Harry distantly heard him utter the incantation for the killing curse, but that may as well have happened on another continent for all the attention he paid it. She was still looking at him, tears running unashamedly down her dirty face. Moments before the unblockable curse struck, she whispered one word at him, "Why?"
And then she was gone, just another corpse on an endless street. Her vacant brown eyes continued to bore into him, even as he fell to his knees and crawled to her side. He didn't even notice that he was now able to move. "I'm so sorry Hermione." He told her lifeless body, brushing a strand of beautiful brown hair out of her pale face. "I couldn't do anything about it, I wasn't strong enough." He began to weep silently, shoulders shaking violently. "It's just not fair." His voice had broken. He didn't care. "It isn't fair." He was shaking his head, as though trying to rid it of impure thoughts. "Why did it have to be you? HERMIONE!"
***
"HERMIONE!" He bolted straight up, admittedly not a long trip. He was still sitting comfortably in the Head's common room, before the still-roaring fire. He was curiously alone, and was beginning to panic until he heard hurried footsteps coming from the Head Girl's staircase. She burst into the room, saw him staring into the fire, knew immediately what had happened, and sat down next to him. He reached an arm out and pulled her close, so that she was almost on top of him.
She turned her head up to look at him. His eyes were distant, reflecting the firelight and nothing else. "Harry?" she whispered softly. He did not react. "Do you want to tell me what's wrong?" his head turned from side to side, imperceptibly. He didn't want to. "Are you going to anyway?" he nodded, the gesture looking entirely involuntary.
She waited patiently as he explained the dream in great detail, not failing to notice that his hold on her grew steadily tighter around her middle. He sounded defeated, like he was already dead. It was a facet of Harry Potter's personality that was usually kept hidden, away from prying eyes. Revealing it now showed how much he trusted her. "It was so real; I thought I'd lost you." He told her in that same voice, the hopeless and sorrowed tone.
She cuddled up closer to him, fully sitting on his lap. "You'll never lose me." She whispered. At that moment, warm and safe with his arms wrapped around his girlfriend and holding her close, it sounded true. Despite everything that could happen in the near and not-so-near future, he believed her. They sat there, how long he didn't know. He had neither the presence of mind nor the inclination to look at the clock. Of the two, he was the only one. "You know, we still have about an hour before training." She commented cheekily. He looked down to see her eyes boring into him, an unfamiliarly mischievous glint visible right at the forefront. He asked her what she intended to do with that time. In response, she turned to face him and captured his lips with her own.
The kiss was firm, but soft, and very warm. The two sets of lips fought each other for dominance, neither succeeding nor attempting to defeat the other. Harry jumped internally when he felt a warm, moist entity on his lower lip, but he parted his lips to admit Hermione's tongue nonetheless. Their tongues fought a similar battle, stroking and pulling and surrounding one another for what felt like only minutes.
Out of the blue, someone tapped gently on the door to the Head's tower. It was soft, but they both heard it and broke the kiss immediately. If whoever that was knew the password, as all the teachers did, they were definitely in a fair bit of trouble. However their fears were quite unfounded. A highly amused Scotsman called through the wood to them. "Come, before I send Alastor in." Iain chuckled, and the diminishing sound of shoes on stone announced his departure. Unwilling to leave their activities, but equally unwilling to have Mad-Eye catch them in such a position, the duo grudgingly collected and changed into the grey and red track suits they wore for training.
***
Harry's lungs were on fire. It had been a reasonably cool morning, which actually turned out to be a bad thing. Moody always pushed them harder on colder days. "You know," Ron had commented on the first of such days, "For a guy with only one leg he can get going at a pretty good clip." And he really did. Mad-Eye always led the pack, looking exceedingly awkward as he swayed from side to side to compensate for his rigid left leg and shouting encouragements over his shoulder. Harry and Hermione stuck to about the middle, and they both went at around the same pace. Ron tended to start out with them, but always dropped back. He hadn't gotten as much of a work out as Harry, who was always running from his 'family,' or Hermione, whose health-conscious parents had enrolled her in all sorts of aerobic fitness classes, and the mostly stationary position of Keeper did little to improve his physique. Iain typically wove in and around the other four, never keeping the same pace for long, never tiring.
Today, however, he was keeping easy pace with Harry and Hermione as the former told him all about his dreams, from the wedding onward. "Yes, that was me." The Transfiguration professor confirmed when asked about his appearance in Harry's first dream. "I had meant to show you only a glimpse of what may happen, I didn't know it would open you to the Tower." Both teens could hear the capitalization on 'Tower.' Harry asked the Scotsman what he was seeing. The man hesitated for a moment, but only a moment. "The Tower is not of this Earth. It is an immense structure, built ages past, when existence began, by an unknown people. It is connected to many 'beams,' invisible chords of energy that tie our world and all other world into the physical structure of the Tower, whose pinnacle is the point upon which all of creation spins." He waited calmly for his audience to process that information. "Because of this, the Tower has a number of supernatural abilities. It is said that if you look into the rotating summit of the Tower, you will see into other worlds both past, present, and future."
Harry was in shock. "So all this time, I've been seeing the future?" Iain told him that, in his case, yes he had been. "So, everything I've seen is going to happen?" he asked, slightly confused and more than a little irritated. It was his understanding that the future was based on the actions of the present, and learning that this was not true was reminding him of the prophecy that started all of this mess.
Iain smiled ruefully at him. "They have already happened." He dropped back to keep company with Ron. Hermione explained the theory that everything that ever did happen or ever will happen is occurring at precisely the same instant, and that time is an illusion created by witnessing each action in sequence. Unsurprisingly, the explanation was little comfort.
Finally, up ahead, Mad-Eye pulled off of the 'track.' Harry and Hermione followed suit, and Iain and Ron came up behind them a short while later. They broke apart to do various exercises, push-ups, sit-ups, and the like. That completed, they normally began practicing endurance spell casting. Today Iain waved them down, and they sat around him. The Scot had his legs folded beneath him, and his eyes closed. He swayed slightly, as though listening to a music none but he could hear.
"It is time for your special lessons." He told them, not opening his eyes. If it had been anyone else it would have been insulting. Not with Iain. "Each of you will be learning a specific skill unique to your talents. Ron, you will learn languages." Ron opened his mouth, likely to demand explanation, but Iain beat him to it. The old Scot emitted a series of soft whistles growing steadily in pitch and speed. The grass around their feet began to grow rapidly, twisting into all manner of shapes. Some slower tunes, and the flora shrunk back to its former size.
"Hermione, you will learn to organize your mind in a memory palace." No further explanation was asked, and none was given. "And finally Harry, you will learn the method to destroy a horcrux. This is not something I can teach you, so you will be spending your lessons with Alastor." He stood up quite suddenly, and the three teenagers followed suit. Mad-Eye, who had not sat down for obvious reasons, came forward.
"But for now, wandless magic." The ex-Auror grunted at them. Iain made a sweeping motion with his hand, and was immediately clutching the holly, vine, and yew wands of Harry, Hermione, and Ron. Another gesture, and there were three stone slabs floating beside him. "I have already explained that magic is created biologically, but the key to accessing it is emotion. Anger is greatest among these, and many of you will remember that many of your bouts with accidental magic occurred when you were very upset," Harry's mind flashed back to summer before third year, and blowing up Aunt Marge. "Now, wandless magic requires an immense amount of power. I have no doubt that all three of you have the potential, but you need to unleash it. If you will, try to conjure up feelings of anger and unleash the result upon one of these stones." He took several steps to the side, a good idea as it happened. Scarcely a moment after the instructions had finished a look of determination came upon Hermione's face, and one of the stones crumbled into dust.
Iain asked her how she had released her magic. "Anger, like you said. I remembered… well I remembered Zabini." Everyone was satisfied by that, and if they weren't then they did a good job of hiding it. Ron was the next to perform, his rock breaking up into pebble-sized pieces and falling earthward. He had remembered hearing that Ginny was locked in the Chamber of Secrets. Iain conjured several more stones, and both Hermione and Ron were able to reproduce the effect. Harry, however, was having trouble.
No one bothered him, because they all knew his dilemma. There were many memories he could use to produce feelings of anger, but none of them were thing he particularly wanted to relive. Instead he cast his eyes around to see how his friends were doing. Hermione had just disintegrated her fifth stone, and Harry looked up just in time to see Ron give her a congratulatory hug and peck on the cheek. Although he knew that it was just a friendly gesture and nothing more, a wave of jealousy and possessiveness rose up within him. Without even realising it, he pushed the power of that emotion out of his body. When he looked up a moment later, it was to stunned expressions. Subconsciously, without meaning to at all, he had completely wiped the three stones he, Ron, and Hermione were practicing on from existence. Not a piece of shattered rubble, nor even a single speck of dust was left to show they had ever been there. "That's enough for today lads." Mad-Eye growled from his corner. None of the three protested; it had been an exhausting morning.
***
That was how they continued. Every morning they would do their training as usual, classes would progress, and either McGonagall, Moody, or Iain would pull some practical joke on the other two during a meal. Every so often, Iain would show up and pull Hermione or Ron away and return with them a couple of hours later. Harry and Ron took advantage of Hermione's lessons to do some Horcrux research. Harry and Hermione attempted the same during Ron's, but more often than not regressed into passionate necking. Curiously, Mad-Eye never approached Harry for his lessons. No one commented on it; it was after all his prerogative to assist in trying to locate the pieces of Voldemort's fractured soul.
During one of these study sessions, one of the few times in which Harry and Hermione were actually able to keep their hands off of each other long enough to crack open a book, Hermione, to Harry's surprise, dropped the weighty tome she had been reading onto the table and huffed in exasperation. "I can't shake the feeling that there's one in the castle, and somehow we missed it." She responded, upon being asked what the matter was.
"Hermione, we've been all over the castle with Bill's ring." Harry reminded her gently. "If there was one here, we'd have found it."
Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers, clearly frustrated. "I know that, but there must have been something we missed; it makes too much sense. Voldemort's horcruxes were always related to something he had a connection to, and there's no place he was more connected to than Hogwarts." Harry had no response to that; he knew it was true. "If there was only some way..." Suddenly, she looked up. "Harry do you have the ring on you?"
He did, as it happened; he carried it everywhere he went, just in case. She turned the ring over in her hand, examining it carefully, then placed it on the desk and made a complicated motion over it with her wand. Tiny strings pulsed to life, surrounding the ring. Strings of blue and green light coiled around the band, pulsating with energy, and the diamond was covered with a bright red net. Not taking her eyes off the ring, Hermione pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill and began scribbling down long lines of strange runic characters. After filling the entire sheet, and turning the ring over several times, she handed it back to him. She explained that she had an idea, she'd rather not say anything until she was sure, and that she would need to get the Marauder's Map from her later in the evening. Perplexed, but trusting her, he agreed.
***
Later that day, Harry and Hermione were instructed to report to McGonagall's office. When they arrived, they found Iain and Slughorn in attendance with a released, but heavily restrained, Blaise Zabini. The topic of the conversation was what his punishment should be. All in attendance were aware that the proposed charges were assault, battery, kidnapping, assault with a deadly weapon, attempted murder, and use of an Unforgivable curse.
"The problem," Iain explained, "Is that we have no actual proof. The word of two muggleborns, I'm sorry to say, will have little weight before the Wizengamot." Once again, all present knew this was true. It was a regrettable fact that bigotry was still rampant in wizarding Britain, especially in the government.
"Couldn't we submit our memories as evidence?" Harry suggested.
McGonagall shook her head, the barest hint of frustration evident on her well-schooled features, but Hermione answered him. "Unfortunately, Magical Statute 24-08-04-10 forbids the use of extracted memories in court proceedings."
This flabbergasted Harry. "Why the hell would they pass a law like that?"
"The reasoning at the time was that memories are unreliable; they could be affected by the emotional state of the witness, or tampered with magically." Slughorn offered, moustache twitching slightly.
"Of course, it also made it a lot more difficult to prosecute accused Death Eaters." McGonagall added dryly, clearly reminiscing back to the days of the war.
Harry was beginning to get desperate; this was ridiculous! It was looking very much like Zabini would go free and after what he had done (or nearly done), Harry would not allow that to happen. He would kill Zabini himself, Azkaban or no Azkaban, before he let him walk away from this. "What if we checked his wand? Surely it would have a record of the last spell he cast." By no coincidence, this happened to be the Killing curse.
Iain shook his head sadly. "It won't work, and I'm afraid it's my fault. The prior incanto charm's effect is highly misunderstood; it doesn't actually reveal the last spell that was cast, it reveals the last magic that affected the wand, ignoring the expelliarmus charm. In normal circumstances this would mean the same thing, but unfortunately the magic I used to disarm Mister Zabini was not quite the usual method of disarmament. As such, that effect would override the Killing curse under examination."
"There's one other way." Hermione mentioned quietly, before Harry could blow his top at how ludicrous this entire situation was.
As it turns out, the very first code of law in the western magical world contained an article pertaining to an antiquated form of trial: trial by combat. This law, laughably outdated in muggle society, had never been repealed in the wizarding world, although the last known case of its use had been over three hundred years ago. According to the law, both parties must represent themselves on the field of honour, with the terms of the duel barring the use of seconds and lethal force. Under the ancient laws, women, the elderly, children, and the infirm would be obligated to name a champion to fight in their stead.
The duel was set for the next afternoon, and Hermione chose Harry to be her champion. Zabini, who had remained curiously silent throughout the discussion, looked very smug when he heard that, which filled Harry with hope. It would be much easier for him to win if his opponent was underestimating him.
It may have been a morbid thought, Harry remarked as he lay in bed that night, but he couldn't wait.
So, for everyone who wanted something awful to happen to Zabini, there it is: he's going to have to fight a very pissed off Harry. You almost have to feel sorry for him.
Some of you may recall, in an earlier chapter, that this was not going to become a super!Harry fic. Harry obliterating those stones is not me reneging on that, it is rather a demonstration of fallibility and the use of magic to a higher potential.
The number of the magical statute (24-08-04-10) is a reference to the UK Digital Economy Act (chapter 24 of the statute book, which received Royal assent on April 8, 2010), a Big Brother-ish law that requires ISPs to turn over the IP addresses of P2P users, and gives Parliament the authority to restrict internet access as it sees fit.