Facing Danger
Chapter 22: Secrets and Spells (Year 5)
By Anne B. Walsh
Chapter 22: Secrets and Spells
Nothing made sense.
His arms and legs throbbed as though he’d been beaten, while his head pounded to a different rhythm entirely. He’d opened his eyes once, but the intensity of the light had driven them shut again, and the sounds in the room thundered meaninglessly, rumbling into his ears in overlapping cacophony. He lay on a hard, unyielding surface, or perhaps he stood with his back against it, or perhaps he was suspended against it and any second he would start to fall.
But nothing mattered anyway, so why should he care?
"Here," a voice boomed nearby, startling him into half-coherency, "let me show you."
Agony blossomed across his neck, and his body tightened in response. His mind tried to shudder away from understanding, but the pain drove it home mercilessly. He’d done something wrong, something so wrong that he was being punished for it, and he couldn’t even remember what it was. He knew who must be punishing him, though, for only one person held such authority over him.
"Moony, no," he begged, half-sobbing at the fresh pain that speaking brought to his throat. "No, please, what’d I do, I didn’t mean it, don’t, don’t..."
There was no answer, only more meaningless noise, and terror and anguish broke the last of his control and tore a child’s cry from him. Only the worst crimes could merit being first punished and then abandoned. The Pack no longer wanted him, could no longer stand having him among them, and he had no idea what he had done to deserve it.
But you did, didn’t you? whispered the voice deep inside. You did something, you have to have done something, you always do something, make a mistake or act like a fool, and now you’ve finally got what you should have had all along. Nothing. Nothing at all.
He whimpered, and the sound threw him backward in time to a night long ago. He had fought a great enemy then, fought and won, but he hadn’t known it, for the fight had left him so exhausted that he had only been able to come halfway to consciousness, and his dazed mind had constructed a strange reality around him. He had thought himself a wolf cub, trapped and caged in darkness, and he had been terrified of the madness that struck a caged wolf.
But his Pack had come to him then, their scents and voices cutting through the darkness to tell him he was safe. He had slept in peace, awakened to his true self, human and healing, and all had been well.
It won’t happen this time. Why should it? the voice mocked at him. You’re worthless. They won’t come for you. They don’t want you. They’ve never wanted you.
He started to take a breath to snarl at the voice, started to turn to find it and tear it apart—
And his world shattered in a swirl of color and light and endless motion. His chest and belly were being dragged out of him. He screamed and couldn’t hear it for the echoing din all around.
"Let me go!" he thought he shouted. "Let me go!"
Somewhere in the back of his mind, a different voice began to laugh, soft cold laughter. Poor little Harry Potter, it whispered, poor little hero, all alone at last, betrayed by the ones he thought he could trust...
xXxXx
"Panic will help nothing and no one," Dumbledore said firmly, coming around his desk to take Ginny’s pendants—no, they’re Harry’s pendants, I’m just wearing them, and a fat lot of good they’ll do him here—in his hand. "I do not know how this happened, and I do not need to know." He gave Ginny a small smile, then let the pendants drop back to her chest, where they thumped more heavily than they should have. "We will proceed by some other route."
"We can start by using what we know of Dolores," McGonagall put in. "This was unbelievably audacious, even for her. She would have needed a safe escape route, somewhere she could go where she would not be questioned, no matter what or whom she brought with her, or in what condition..."
"The Ministry!" Four or five voices shouted it at once.
"Unfortunately, that narrows our search but does not ease it," said Dumbledore, frowning. "For any of us to enter the Ministry at this time will be difficult, given my standing with the current administration—although some of us might be more able to enter it than others." He nodded to Mr. Padfoot, who had been just about to speak. "But our access will necessarily be limited."
"Barty Crouch was just coming in as we were leaving," Mr. Moony said. "He could probably get to most of the areas we can’t. It would raise some questions, but if he can find Harry..."
"Let me call Headquarters now, then," said Mrs. Letha, pulling her Zippophone from her pocket. "And I’ll ask Molly to firecall Arthur. He’s already there, he knows everyone, and if he moves quickly he might just be able to intercept Umbridge. Maybe not on her way to leave Harry wherever she’s going to put him, but on her way out again, and that would tell us where she’s been."
Ginny felt Ron’s arms around her, then Hermione’s, and after a moment Ron’s hug widened to include them both. "They’ll find him," Hermione whispered in Ginny’s ear. "Your dad, and our parents, and everyone else. They’ll find him."
"And if they don’t?" Ginny asked, barely recognizing her own voice, it was so harsh with tension.
"Then we will," said Ron, tightening his arms around them once.
Ginny shut her eyes and willed herself to believe it.
xXxXx
Winky was just coming down the basement stairs when she heard the voice in the kitchen and froze. It was her Master—
No, she corrected herself firmly, it wasn’t. Not anymore. She had a new Master and Mistress now, and a lot of little Masters and one little Mistress, and the littlest Master had ordered her not to punish herself anymore for getting clothes from her old Master. She would obey, even though her whole being cried out for her to hurt herself for being such a bad elf, because the little Master was right. Hurting herself was doing what she wanted, so not hurting herself was the worst punishment of all, and Winky was a good house-elf and always punished herself the best way she could—
"Of course, I’ll go right now," said her Master’s voice. "I’ll find her if she’s there to be found. And Potter, of course. I’ll send a Patronus when I have something."
The door at the bottom of the stairs swung open.
Winky froze into immobility, staring at the man who mounted the steps two at a time. She had served the Crouches too many years not to be sure of what she was seeing.
He is the Master—but not—
The man passed her by with never a second look and vanished into the hallway at the top of the stairs, and Winky drew a sobbing breath and shut her eyes.
Keep the secrets, hissed a deep part of her, old and strong and known. Keep the Master’s secrets. Always, always, always.
Mistress must know! shrilled a newer, sharper voice. You have a new family now, and they must know, you must tell them—
Keep the Master’s secrets...
He is not your Master now!
Keep the Master’s secrets...
He will put your new Masters in harm’s way if he can—
Winky opened her eyes, summoned up her courage, and popped into the kitchen.
Her Mistress had her head in the fire, but pulled it out only a moment after Winky’s arrival. "Winky, there you are, I was just about to call you. We’re going to have people through here in a few minutes, we need the documents from the green shelf in the War Room, and—" She stopped, looking at Winky’s face. "Good heavens, what’s the matter?"
Winky shuddered all over once, then lurched forward to hold onto the Mistress’ robes. "The man who was being here," she squeaked. "The one who is being my old Master—"
"Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t tell you he was going to be here. It’s all right, dear, he’s gone now." The Mistress bent down to stroke Winky’s head between her ears. "You mustn’t fret, he can’t hurt you any longer—"
"No, Mistress, you is not listening!" Winky cried, her fear of what might happen to her new family overcoming her temerity. "Mistress, he is being my old Master—but he is not being the one he is looking like!"
xXxXx
Harry stood in a dark room, staring into a bowl of water in which a man’s form could be seen, hurrying along a city street. "They think he’s likely at the Ministry," the man said, his voice echoing out of the bowl faint but clear, "and they’ve asked me to find him if I can. I doubt it will be terribly troublesome." A snort of amusement. "Poor Dolores. She has no idea who she’s been talking with all this time, no idea who’s going to meet her there... in any case, it should take no longer than an hour or two, my Lord. I will inform you the moment I have the boy."
"Thank you, Christopher," Harry said, nodding to the man on the other side of the bowl. "You may end it."
"My Lord." The man waved his wand once over the water, and the picture vanished.
Harry looked around at the room, at the masked faces all pointed towards him. "We should assume that there will be some resistance," he said. "It would be best to deal with it silently, of course, but fighting may well become necessary, especially if Dumbledore has some means of locating the boy and attempting to retrieve him. However, our involvement must not be provable. Ministry employees must remain alive and unharmed at all costs." This was directed at a certain section of the room, sternly. "They must not remember you, but any injuries must be traceable to Dumbledore’s Order. Do you all understand me?"
"Yes, my Lord," rumbled through the room. Some of the figures in their long robes bent their heads or dipped shallow bows in his direction.
"Good." Harry turned his head to regard the mirror on the wall, which showed his face—his paper-white, red-eyed, flat-nosed face—
He had no time to do more than stiffen in shock before he was running down a hallway, a familiar hallway—he’d been here before, or seen it, or perhaps only dreamed of it—
Dreamed, yes, that’s it, this is like the dreams I was having over the summer—
The door at the hall opened, and he was in a dark circular room—everything was spinning around him, doors blurring past, as he concentrated on his objective—
I don’t even know where I’m going, this makes no sense—
The room stopped, and he hurried through the door directly in front of him, into a room filled with ticking sounds and shining lights, to the very end and through a second door into darkness again—
If this is a dream, maybe I can get out of it somehow—
His eyes adjusted with animal quickness to show him a tall room stacked with shelves from which orbs glowed dully in the blue flames of the candles all around—he was moving again, purposeful and swift, down the shelves which he could now see were numbered—
Come on, Harry, wake up. Wake up, wake up, you’re dreaming, wake up—
He turned down the aisle between shelves ninety-six and ninety-seven, hurrying towards the end, his heart quickening in anticipation—it was here, soon he would know, know whatever he had not known fourteen years before, whatever had caused his ignominious defeat—
Fourteen years? But I was just a baby then—and I didn’t lose—
He stopped dead, his eyes narrowing, head turning as he searched the darkness around him. "Potter," he hissed, a smile stretching his lips. "Come out, come out, wherever you are..."
Harry’s eyes flew open and shut again just as quickly. He was in his own body again, but still nothing made sense, everything hurt and the light was too bright and the noise was too loud and he couldn’t move without feeling as though he was on a ship in the middle of a storm—
So things made sense while I was dreaming, but not now. He swallowed, trying to counteract the pain in his throat, but the movement only made it worse.
I wish I could shape dreams like Draco or Hermione or Danger can. Then I could get into a dream and things would make sense again. But then Voldemort might be there—how did I get in his head again, anyway? The blood-bond should have stopped it.
Fear shuddered through him. Maybe Moony ended it, because he thinks I ought to be able to block Voldemort out myself by now. Or because he doesn’t think I’m worth it anymore. Maybe I’m not. Maybe I should just give up and let whatever’s happening happen...
He started to let go, forcing himself to release his grip on rational thought, but then two simultaneous feelings flooded him—outrage, from the Wolf-part of his brain, and smug satisfaction, from—
Merlin’s boots—
Harry dived into the outrage, hiding himself under its surface, and felt the satisfaction fade away into the distance.
He was still here. Voldemort. Spying on me. He knows something’s wrong with me, he knows I wanted to give up—I don’t know if he knows I didn’t actually do it, but he might—
He almost growled, but stopped at the last second. I don’t know what’s going on, and I won’t as long as I can’t think straight!
Wolf’s outrage began to fade, but the clarity of thought it had brought to Harry’s mind lingered for a moment. There’s something I could do, I think, to get away from this. Something that’s like dreaming, but different. It might help me if I can just think of what it is, or at least how to do it...
Words came to him, and he shaped them with his lips, afraid to speak aloud for fear he’d deafen himself.
"Ride a winged horse to Banbury Cross, to see a fine lady upon a white horse..."
xXxXx
Ginny sat huddled in the middle of the Pride, unable to think of anything except the one person who wasn’t there, the one person who should have been.
You won’t be able to help him, her doubts whispered. You’re no alpha, you’re just a silly little girl who thinks she can be—you have to be able to keep up with him if you want to be the alpha, and you’re not and you never will be—this is even really your fault, if you’d bothered to see whose pendants you were taking, this never would have happened—
"Shut up," Ginny muttered, her hand clutched around Harry’s pendants. "Leave me alone."
Trying to distract herself, she looked around the room. Dumbledore and McGonagall and the four adults of the Pack were off to one side talking quietly and urgently; the portraits on the walls were murmuring to one another, those who weren’t trying to eavesdrop on the conversation; Fawkes sat on his perch, fixing Ginny with a beady eye—
The Chamber of Secrets exploded into Ginny’s mind. "Professor!" she cried, jumping up. "Could Fawkes find Harry?"
"Perhaps," Dumbledore said, turning to face her. "He has done so before. But Harry would have to call for him, or for some form of help. And even if he did, Fawkes cannot protect him from the spells placed on him. Nor from Voldemort’s intrusions into his mind."
"But Fawkes could take him these." Ginny lifted the pendants, jingling them together. "We’d know where he is, then, and he’d be safe from Voldemort—and we could help him with Pride magic, with one of the jewels—" She stopped. "Why don’t we just find him with a red one, like we did back when Malfoy kidnapped him and Hermione and Draco? Wouldn’t that work?"
"It might," Mr. Moony said, meeting her eyes. "But the Ministry’s been under higher security lately, including a limited Unplottable Charm. We’re afraid that might throw off any attempt to find Harry with the jewels, unless we were at the Ministry itself..."
"And we can’t go there," Ginny finished, slumping. "I’m sorry."
"For what?" Mrs. Danger moved through the crowd quickly to catch Ginny’s shoulders. "Don’t you dare be sorry for thinking! Or for trying to help, either, young lady!" She shook Ginny gently, then pulled her into a hug. "I think you have one of the better ideas we’ve heard so far. Especially in light of what else we’ve just found out..." She glanced at Dumbledore. "It’s not likely to be a secret much longer, is it?" she asked. "Not if everything works out the way we think it will."
"And they should know," Mrs. Letha added. "If they know the prophecy, they can know about this."
"Indeed." Dumbledore motioned for the Pride to stand up from the floor where they’d been sitting together, then waved his wand in a circle, conjuring chairs for everyone. "And when Harry is returned to us, there will be more to tell, but for now let us remain with the puissant facts of the situation." He beckoned Ginny to him. "If you will give me Harry’s pendants, I will give them to Fawkes. It is entirely possible that Harry will think to call him, or do so inadvertently, and we must be ready."
Ginny nodded and pulled off Harry’s pendants, brushing them past her lips as she did.
I love you, Harry Potter, she thought fiercely as she watched the phoenix take the gold chain in his beak. And I refuse to lose you to something this stupid.
"Now," Dumbledore said gravely when Ginny had taken her seat, "to the matter of Lord Voldemort’s spy in the Order of the Phoenix..."
A loud crack startled everyone. Ginny whirled to see what was happening—you couldn’t Apparate at Hogwarts, but it had certainly sounded like an Apparition—
"Mum?" Ron said in surprise. "Winky?"
xXxXx
Harry pulled his shimmering silver leg free of his body and sighed in utter relief as the last of the bizarre pain vanished. "Much better," he said aloud, standing up. "Wonder what hit me?" He looked around. "Or where I am, for that matter."
But why should I care? I can’t do anything about it, and even if I could, it wouldn’t work, I can’t do anything right—
Harry stopped, frowning. "That’s not true," he said aloud. "Look what I just did."
Stupid, kid stuff, anybody could have done it. Why even bother? I’ll only get caught again, and Umbridge’ll be even madder at me for fighting back—I should have given up when I had the chance—
Quick as thought, Harry shifted, his intangible body completing his Animagus transformation even faster than his human form could do it. Help me, he said silently to Wolf, and threw himself into the mindset of the form.
Wolf pawed the ground, his nose twitching. Giving up was an alien idea to him, as was lack of confidence in skills long since proven. He was a hunter, a fighter, strong and courageous, and he had fallen only against far superior numbers and strength. There was nothing wrong with that.
Yes, there is, yammered what he could now clearly perceive was a different voice, a completely separate entity from himself. You’re never supposed to fail, not ever, if you fail even once, that makes you a failure—you’ll never recover, you might as well be dead, why don’t you just lie down and play dead like a good little doggy—
Wolf snarled, whipped his head around, and sank his teeth into—something. It glowed a nasty green, it had four sucker-covered legs and four arms tipped with sharp stingers, and it had been clinging to his back and pumping poison into him without his even realizing it—
No more!
With a fierce crunch of teeth, Wolf broke the thing’s back, then shook it until it stopped moving. He flung it away, watched it hit the far wall and slide down to lie broken on the floor, and howled in triumph. My kill! My kill, fair and true!
Harry slid back into control, Wolf’s triumph still suffusing him. He howled once more for the sheer joy of it, then trotted over to examine what he’d killed more closely. A small sniff sent him recoiling in disgust. Umbridge!
But wait—this isn’t her, and she couldn’t make a creature to follow me when I go walking when she doesn’t even know I do it—so what is this thing?
He looked back at his human body and stared. Thousands of blood-red worms covered it, swarming over every inch of skin and clothing.
What—are—those?
He approached his body cautiously, sniffed, and sneezed, backing up a few steps. Umbridge again. Worse than the other one, even. Probably because it’s still live—
Live. Not alive, but live. Why did I say that?
Slowly, he stood up on two feet, looking back and forth between the sprawled creature and the red worms. "They’re not anything alive at all," he said, thinking aloud. "They’re made of magic. So am I, when I’m walking, so I can see them and affect them then. But if I was still in my body, I wouldn’t be able to see them—"
No, but I’d feel them. I’d feel what they’re doing to me. And if they’re made of magic, and they’re doing things to me, that makes them—
"Spells." Harry reached down and picked one of the worms off his body. It squeaked and tried to escape, but he dropped it to the floor and stepped on it hard. "She had me under spells—has me," he corrected, looking at the worms still coating him. "I should get them off..."
But I have to find out what’s going on. Every minute counts. Once I know where I am and how to get out, I can come back, get rid of the spell, and get out.
He turned away, shook himself once all over like Wolf shedding water, and went to work.
The room around him was easily summed up—white and featureless, with a light in the ceiling and a door shut and probably locked. That was no bar to Harry when he was out ‘walking’, though. If it was intended to be gone through, he could go through it, and promptly did.
"So Umbridge had me under a couple of nasty spells," he mused as he walked down the hall, noting its lack of windows and the low ceiling. "I suppose that’s her idea of fun."
A stray wisp of memory teased his mind. Something someone had said after the Tournament, something about what Fudge could or couldn’t do...
Harry shook his head and kept walking. It would come in its own time.
The first three rooms he peered into had nothing in them, only the same blank walls and floor as his own, with a light on the ceiling. The fourth, though, had a bored-looking young witch sitting in it, a bowl of water on the table in front of her.
"...what she thinks is going to happen," she was muttering as Harry poked his head through the door. "He’s just lying there, has been for a while, he’s not even talking anymore, not that I could hear him when he was... and ‘be ready to fight’, she says. Fight what? He doesn’t have a wand, I should know, I have it right there..." A jerk of her head indicated a side table, where, sure enough, Harry’s wand lay. "He can’t get out of that room, and it’s not like anyone knows he’s here..."
The witch shook her head irritably. "What do I care, though, she’s willing to pay overtime." She Summoned her bag with an idle flip of her wand and started digging inside it, eventually pulling out a copy of Witch Weekly. "I hope they’ve got a new Valentina Jett, it’s been ages..."
Harry snickered and pulled his head back out. "He’s just lying there"? I bet that’s me. Or my body, anyway. The rest of me is most definitely not... and you’re going to find that out the hard way pretty soon, aren’t you?
"‘What she thinks is going to happen,’" he repeated aloud as he kept walking. "That’s got to be Umbridge. Wherever this is, it’s all about her, she’s the one in charge—"
He stopped. Then he started running, flat out.
There was one place besides Hogwarts where Umbridge was very definitely in charge of things.
xXxXx
"This," said Dumbledore slowly, "makes sense of a great deal." He laid a hand on Winky’s shoulder. "Winky, I thank you for telling us this. It may save lives."
The house-elf nodded, trembling.
Dumbledore looked up at Mrs. Weasley. "Molly, does Arthur know about this?"
"I sent him a Patronus, but I don’t know how soon it will reach him," Mrs. Weasley said, pale but unshaken. "I had to be careful what I said, as well. What if it got to him while he was talking to the man? I finally just told him not to trust anyone, and to go back to Headquarters as soon as he got the message—I know that’s left us without anyone we can trust looking for Harry, but I couldn’t—"
"Of course not," Sirius said, cutting her off. "It’s not worth risking Arthur’s life to find Harry a few minutes sooner."
"But that still leaves us with the question of how we are going to find him," Danger said. "What if he’s not at the Ministry at all?"
Dumbledore smiled faintly. "That, I can assist with. Observe." He drew a second quill from his desk, almost identical to the one that had written down Ginny’s location, and set it on a fresh piece of parchment. "I am a firm believer in keeping one’s friends close and one’s enemies closer. To that end, I presented a certain friend of mine with a small pin in the shape of a phoenix, and he, to needle Cornelius, has worn it constantly for the past five months."
A tap of his wand, and the quill began to write.
The talisman is currently located at the Ministry of Magic, in one of the research areas of the Department of Mysteries.
xXxXx
Harry slowed down as he heard voices coming from a room near the end of the hall he was running in. That’s Umbridge... and I know I’ve heard the man before, but I can’t place the voice...
"...fact remains that he is under my jurisdiction," Umbridge was saying as Harry came to a halt outside the door. "He is neither coherent nor safe to allow around others, therefore he is clearly the responsibility of the Ministry."
Harry froze, the wisp of memory from earlier coming into full clarity. That’s right, Moony told me last year—if I were mad, dangerous to other people, the Ministry could take me away—of course, that’s what Umbridge was trying to do, she wanted it to look as if I’d lost my mind, so she could justify locking me up forever!
"What if he were to have a sudden episode of uncontrolled magic in front of Muggles?" Umbridge went on. "Or even his fellow students at Hogwarts, who are not fully trained in magic and would be unable to defend themselves?"
Unable to defend themselves... now whose fault is that, I wonder? Harry snorted.
"Under the law," Umbridge wound up, "it is very clearly the duty of the Ministry of Magic to keep him under control until such time as his malady can be successfully treated."
"I’m not arguing that," said the man’s voice, sounding rather weary. "I’m only saying that since I arranged for this area to be cleared for you tonight, so that Dumbledore’s people wouldn’t notice how much you were getting up to, perhaps I’m due a bit of consideration. All I want is to see him—is that really too much to ask?"
"You have no conception of the abilities this seemingly innocent boy is hiding," Umbridge said shrilly. "He bit me while I was attempting to subdue him, and his teeth are far sharper than can be explained by nature alone! Look, just look at it!"
Harry winced. I must have partially transformed... damn it, if she figures out I’m an Animagus...
"Yes, that does look nasty," the man agreed dryly. "You can Stun him or put him in the Body-Bind, whatever you like, Dolores. But I will see him." A pause. "Whether you want me to or not."
Why am I standing out here? They can’t see me. Harry snorted at his own forgetfulness and walked through the half-open door into the room.
"Are you threatening me, Bartemius?" Umbridge demanded, drawing herself up to her full height. "Do not forget who I am!"
"I haven’t forgotten who you are," Mr. Crouch said wearily, looking down at her with a clear expression of disgust. "You’re a fool who’s attached herself to another fool, and I don’t know how he can stand your toadying, unless he actually believes everything you say about him, which would make him a bigger fool even than I thought he was."
Umbridge sputtered in indignation. "I—you—how—"
"But I do owe you a debt of gratitude," Crouch went on, ignoring the sounds Umbridge was making. "You’ve made a great deal possible for me, and I just wanted to say—"
A door at the other side of the room opened. "Barty?" Mr. Weasley poked his head inside. "Yes, I thought I heard you in here. And—" He eyed Umbridge with distaste, then nodded a jerky greeting to her.
"Here to help with the business, Arthur?" Crouch asked, waving Mr. Weasley into the room. "You know what I mean." His right hand rose to his hair, smoothing it back, then quickly traced a jagged line down his forehead before dropping idly to his left sleeve.
Harry grinned, one hand going to his own forehead to touch his scar. I knew they’d find me. Dumbledore doesn’t leave his own behind...
xXxXx
Fawkes suddenly sat up and warbled a brief series of notes.
"Excellent." Dumbledore smiled widely, his eyes acquiring their famous twinkle. "Do us that favor, old friend, if you would..."
In a flash of fire, the phoenix was gone.
"Harry called for him," said Meghan. "Didn’t he?"
"Or something which had the same effect," Dumbledore said with a nod. "Whatever it was, it will bring Fawkes to him, and with Fawkes will go the pendants..."
"And with the pendants, goes the locator," Aletha finished. "And then we’ll know exactly where to go to get our little Wolf."
"Not so little anymore," Danger said softly.
"No. He’s not." Aletha sighed. "As much as we might like him to be." One hand rested on her belly. "That’s why I’m looking forward to this one so much. I’ve almost forgotten what it’s like to have a child who stays where you put him..."
"Doesn’t last," Sirius said. "Not for long, anyway."
"Spoilsport."
"Are you sure you should be here, Letha?" Remus asked.
Aletha rolled her eyes. "Remus, I’m pregnant, not ill. Besides, do you really think we’ll be fighting anyone tonight?"
xXxXx
Harry gasped as his scar lanced with pain—
Wait, why do I feel it? I don’t feel anything Umbridge’s spell is doing to me, why do I feel this?
A rush of excitement, anticipation, gloating—
Is this some other spell? She can’t have put anything on me, she doesn’t know I’m here—
He twisted, looking around, but he could see nothing different about his soul-self.
Maybe it’s my body, something’s wrong, I have to get back—
He took off running, leaving Crouch and Mr. Weasley to deal with Umbridge.
Come to think of it, all I need to do is break the spell on my body, then get out of the room and down to where they are, they ought to have taken care of her by the time I get there, it’s two to one and she thinks Crouch is on her side for some reason—
Harry darted through the fifth door on the right and stopped dead.
"Fawkes," he breathed, staring at the phoenix, which was perched above his body’s head, crooning. Thick tears dripped from beady black eyes, falling onto Harry’s face, and the red worms all over him were fading into nothingness—
The spell, it’s gone, I can go back in!
Harry laughed out loud and leapt into his body, closing his eyes to savor the feeling of sinking into comforting warmth. Fingers were here, hands were here, arms were here—toes and feet and legs were there—other things were all where they should be, and although everything was sore, nothing hurt—
He opened his eyes and smiled up at Fawkes. "Thanks," he said a bit hoarsely. "Thanks a lot."
The phoenix warbled for a moment, then bent his head and plucked something out of his feathers. A chain, Harry realized, a gold chain like the Pack and Pride wore—and on it there were—
"Pendants?" He blinked as a tiny locket came into view. "Wait a second—those are mine! Then whose—"
He pulled free the set he was wearing and looked at them. Battery and muffin tin—that’s Mr. and Mrs. Weasley—
His palm struck his forehead with an audible thump. Of course. Ginny. We were sharing, and then we took them off, but we never bothered to make sure we had the right ones...
Quickly, he removed the chain he was wearing, then tugged on the one around Fawkes’ neck. The phoenix made a chuckling sound as the metal slid through his feathers and flesh without harming him, and Harry chuckled with him. "Somehow I didn’t think that would bother you too much."
His pendants went over his head and settled into place against his breastbone, and Harry drew a long breath and let it out slowly. "Better," he said. "Much better."
Exactly one second later, the metal went hot against his skin.
Of course. They’re all scared to death for me. I wish I had a way to tell them I was all right—
Wait, I do!
"Can you take these back to Ginny for me?" he asked Fawkes, holding out the other set of pendants. "And let them all know you’ve seen me, and I’m OK?"
Fawkes took the pendants delicately in his beak, bobbed his head, and spread his wings. Harry dodged the wingspread. He’s bigger than he looks—of course, he’d have to be, to handle all the magic he’s got...
The phoenix took off, circled the room once, and vanished in a spurt of flames.
There. Message sent. Now to get out of here...
Harry went to the door, put his hands on it, and focused his will on the lock. Melt.
A few seconds later, he pushed it open easily and stepped into the corridor, avoiding the puddle of hot metal on the floor. Maybe it won’t hurt me, but if it dries on my shoe, it’ll make a lot of noise. Now, to get my wand back...
xXxXx
Valerie Marks turned a page in her Witch Weekly, yawning. This whole thing’s gone downhill since Valentina Jett stopped writing for them. Maybe I should try sending her a letter, asking if she’ll ever do another serial story...
Suddenly, there was a hand over her mouth, and another one at her throat, something very sharp pricking her skin. "You didn’t search me very well, did you?" whispered a voice in her ear. "Or did you just not think I was going to be able to use it?"
Valerie whimpered, the magazine falling from her nerveless hands. Oh God I wasn’t watching he got out and now he’s going to kill me I don’t want to die I don’t want to die—
"Stand up," the voice went on, deathly quiet. "Slowly."
She complied, though her knees were shaking so badly she could barely support her own weight.
"Good." Her captor pulled her against him with the hand still over her mouth and the elbow of the one holding the knife at her throat. "Now walk over here with me."
Step by step, in awkward unison, they moved, until Valerie found herself in a corner facing the wall.
"Don’t make a sound." The hand covering her mouth moved away. Valerie gulped but didn’t scream.
"Very good." The voice sounded amused. "Tell me where we are."
"Th-th-the Ministry of Magic," Valerie stammered. "The D-department of Mysteries. Please don’t kill me, I was just doing what she said, I didn’t know—"
"Shut up." The voice had turned deadly cold. "Put your hands over your ears and leave them there until I tell you to take them away."
Valerie slowly lifted her hands and pressed them against the sides of her head. The knife at her throat slid away, and she was alone. A few seconds in which all she could hear was the frantic beating of her own heart, and then an instant’s flash of red light behind her—
And then nothing at all.
xXxXx
"That was easy," Harry said aloud, stowing his wand inside his robes. "Now I just need a lift home..."
His easy jog took him out of the room where the witch lay unconscious, quickly down the hallway, and almost to the room where he’d seen Umbridge, Crouch, and Mr. Weasley before he realized he could hear voices from within. Cautiously, he peered around the door.
"...can understand why you did it," Mr. Weasley was saying, looking from Umbridge’s crumpled form on the floor to Crouch, who had his wand out, "but now she can’t tell us where Harry is, and this department is confusing enough when you know what you’re after. He could be anywhere—"
A silver bird, small and plump, shot through the wall and landed in front of Mr. Weasley. "Arthur," it said urgently in Mrs. Weasley’s voice. "Trust no one, no one at all—come home immediately—"
"What in—" Mr. Weasley stared at the bird as it vanished. "That was Molly’s Patronus—what does she mean, ‘trust no one’?"
"She means that her message got here just a moment too late," said Crouch, and suddenly his wand was pointing at Mr. Weasley. "I’m sorry about this, Arthur, but you’ve brought it on yourself, really. Avada—"
Harry slammed the door open. "Expelliarmus!" he shouted, his wand aimed at Crouch.
Crouch twisted aside, avoiding Harry’s spell but sending his bolt of green harmlessly into the wall, then shot again at Mr. Weasley. "Dissupo!"
Mr. Weasley tried to dodge, but the spell caught him across the chest in a flash of purple, and he collapsed to the floor bonelessly. Harry yelled angrily and fired a Stunner at Crouch, who threw up a Shield Charm and dashed from the room. "You’ll never leave here alive, Potter!" his voice trailed behind him. "The Dark Lord is on his way, and all his servants with him..."
Harry snarled once, then dropped down beside Mr. Weasley and put his fingers to the older wizard’s neck. A pulse beat there, faint but present, and Harry sighed in relief.
Then he got to his feet, gripping his wand more tightly.
He might be alone, he might have been under Umbridge’s spells until just a few moments ago, but if Voldemort wanted him, Voldemort was going to have to fight for him.
And I won’t be alone for long.
One hand on his pendants, the other holding his wand rock-steady, Harry Potter moved out into the Department of Mysteries.
Author Notes:
Okay, not such a cliffy, but still exciting enough, I hope...
Yes, it’s BaDoM time! No, it won’t be precisely like canon, but yes, people are going to die. Yes, I said people, as in more than one. Get your wailing done now, and if you’d like to put in votes for who it should/shouldn’t be, or tell me something you liked or didn’t about the chapter, you know how to do it!