Learning to Vanquish Chapter Three: Return to the Chamber

[humantales]

Title: Learning to Vanquish Chapter Three
Rating: PG-13
Summary: After leaving the Dursleys in the summer after fifth year, Harry goes to Godric's Hollow and finds himself . . . at home. AU with a twist. Sixth year.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Beta: The wonderful seventines



Chapter Three
Return to the Chamber

As Harry headed back into the castle for supper on Saturday night, he noticed dark clouds starting to roll in. It appeared a storm was coming. This seemed to be confirmed when an owl soared into the common room fireplace while he ate. It was from Snape and informed him that, since it would be raining tomorrow, it would be a perfect time to harvest the basilisk. Harry wrote a confirmation on the note and sent it back.

When he came down the common room the next morning for breakfast, he found another note on the hearth. It told him to meet Snape in front of Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom with his broom and all of the protective gear he owned at 9:00am. This gave him time for a leisurely breakfast before he headed down.

When he got to the second floor, he found Hermione there with her parents and Professor McGonagall. “Hi, Hermione, I didn’t expect to see you here today.” He walked over and shook her parents’ hands.

“No wonder,” she said. “You didn’t tell me what you and Ron were doing with Professor Snape; I had to find out from Ginny. Of course, I immediately asked if I could come along; it sounds like a wonderful opportunity.”

“Erm, yeah. So Professor Snape agreed?” Harry couldn’t help noticing that Hermione’s parents looked as skeptical as he did that this would be “wonderful”.

Hermione nodded eagerly. “He said it might be useful having me along. He wouldn’t agree to Ginny coming, though. He said it was bad enough having the three of us along; he didn’t want to have to worry about a fifth-year who was, er, in trouble there before.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. The way Hermione was talking, her parents had no idea what had happened in the Chamber. He stared wondering how much they knew about what went on at school. “I’m just as happy to hear about that. We’ll have to find some way to make it up to Ginny, though, if she really wanted to come along.” He would have gone on, but Ron walked up to them with Professor Snape. McGonagall introduced him to the Grangers; after he’d sneered at them, she took them off to her office, stating that Hermione could give them a full tour after they were finished in the Chamber.

Harry had brought along his dragon-hide gloves, the only protective gear he had, along with his Firebolt. Ron had brought his broom, gloves, and some other leather clothes Harry assumed he’d borrowed from one of his brothers. Hermione had brought her gloves, a pair of goggles and her school bag, which looked as if it held half a dozen very thick books. Snape was carrying a large amount of gear, which he dropped unceremoniously to the floor. In addition to gloves, he also had what looked like several goldfish bowls, a broom, a great deal of rope, a box filled with potion vials and an assortment of ingredient bags. He looked over what the three students had brought with them. “In general,” he told them, “the gloves will be sufficient protection, but they will be inadequate when we go to collect the fangs and venom sacs. Mr. Weasley, you are actually fairly well prepared, but I will still require you to wear the head protection I brought. Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, you are both fortunate I have additional gear you may borrow; what you have is completely inadequate for the job. Miss Granger, I told you to bring your broom.”

“I don’t have a broom,” Hermione told him. “I don’t like flying. Why do we need a broom anyway? We’re going under the castle, aren’t we?” She looked to Ron and Harry for confirmation.

“After examining the entrance, I have determined that it will be more . . . pleasant flying down than sliding down.” He smirked at her. “I assume one of your classmates will permit you to share. Or you may go and give your parents their tour, since you are not required for this endeavor.”

After a moment’s discussion, in which both Ron and Harry had offered to fly Hermione down with them, Hermione decided she would go down with Ron. They divided the gear between the four of them and went into the bathroom.

Unlike on his birthday, this time they were greeted by Moaning Myrtle. She was sitting in the U-bend, picking a spot on her chin. She smiled at Harry. “Hi, Harry, it’s been ages since you’ve come to visit. I was hoping you’d come by during the summer holiday. I don’t think you’ll get into trouble during the summer.”

Harry could feel Snape’s eyes on him and could tell that Ron and Hermione were suppressing giggles. “Erm, hi, Myrtle. We were just passing through to get rid of that basilisk. The one who, erm, is left in the Chamber. It’ll probably be a while before we come back through.”

“Oh,” Myrtle looked disappointed. “You never want to spend time with me any more. It was so much nicer when the three of you were here all of the time.”

Harry could feel his face reddening as he walked over the sink He found the engraving on the tap and hissed at it. The sink sank out of sight and the entrance to the underground passage was revealed.

Hermione looked cautiously down the pipe. “How would we get down there without brooms?” she asked, looking faintly horrified.

“We slid down it,” Ron said matter-of-factly. “Flying will be a lot easier.” He mounted his broom and held it steady for Hermione.

“Wait one minute,” Snape broke in. “I will go down first, to confirm that it is still, relatively, safe. When I call up, you will follow, Mr. Potter first, then Mr. Weasley with Miss Granger. Is that understood?” When the three of them nodded, he picked up his share of the gear, mounted his broom and flew down the pipe. Harry was impressed; he hadn’t expected Snape to fly as gracefully as he did. A moment later, his voice came up, “Other than being utterly filthy, it seems safe down here. You may follow.” Harry rolled his eyes and flew down, followed several minutes later by Ron and Hermione.

Snape was exploring the area at the bottom of the pipe, his lip curled with distaste. “I gather there is no ambient light?”

“Not here. There’s some light in the Chamber itself,” Harry told him. All four of them lit their wands and began to walk through the passage. Although he wasn’t as afraid as he had been the last time he was down here, it was still an eerie place to be. The others seemed to feel the same way; no one spoke as they walked.

The silence was broken when they came to where the roof had caved in. “Was this here before?” Snape asked, checking the walls and ceiling of the area carefully.

“Yeah,” Ron said. “Lockhart caused it. He was trying to Obliviate Harry’s memory with my old wand, which was broken, and brought the ceiling down.” Ron shuddered a little. “It was pretty awful; the whole time we were waiting for Harry, I kept expecting the ceiling to cave in completely and either kill us all, or trap Harry and Ginny on the other side.” He looked over at Snape, who was looking at the rock fall, no expression on his face. “She’s pretty upset you wouldn’t let her come along, you know. She wanted to face this place and exorcise it from her nightmares once and for all.”

Harry could understand why Ginny might feel that way, but he was just as glad Snape had refused her. He would have a very hard time seeing Ginny in the Chamber without seeing her white and cold and so very still. Just thinking about it, he had to swallow hard against the ball of fear in his throat.

Snape shrugged. “I will consider it after we see what waits ahead of us. You and Mr. Potter are performing a detention and I am willing to allow Miss Granger’s curiosity since she may actually be able to help. I did not want to worry about a possibly emotionally distraught girl while trying to collect potion ingredients. How did you get through?”

“I was on the other side when the ceiling collapsed,” Harry said. He realized his voice was very faint and cleared his throat. “While they were waiting for me, Ron cleared enough space for Ginny and I to get through.” He stared at the fall for a minute, then started to clamber through the hole left.

“Wait a minute, Potter. Let me clear a path and strengthen the walls and ceiling here,” Snape said. He pulled out his wand, concentrated a minute, and cast a series of spells. What looked like a doorway formed and the cracks in the ceiling filled in.

“Could you teach us those spells, Professor?” Hermione asked, examining the ceiling with interest. “They could be very useful someday.”

“How many half-collapsed underground passages do you intend to explore?” the professor snapped. “I will give you the book in which I found them, but I won’t waste my time teaching useless spells when there are better ones for you to learn.” With that, Snape swooped past them, strode through the new doorway, and continued down the passage. Ron, Hermione and Harry exchanged looks and shrugs, and followed.

As they neared the Chamber, Harry felt his throat closing. He reminded himself that the basilisk was dead, that the diary was gone, that there was no longer anything down here to threaten them, but his stomach didn’t want to believe it. By the time he met the other three at the actual entrance, he was sweating.

Harry looked up at the two emerald-eyed serpents and hissed the word Open. He led the others down the corridor of serpentine columns, fighting the urge to turn and run back. When they finally reached the statue of Salazar Slytherin, they could see the corpse of the basilisk lying near where he had seen Ginny.

Harry was now breathing very hard, but he didn’t seem to be getting any oxygen to his lungs. His chest hurt, his vision was graying and his ears were buzzing. He felt someone take his arm and sit him down, pushing his head between his knees. Someone, he couldn’t tell whom, told him to breathe deeply, slowly. Several minutes passed, before he felt able to sit up without passing out. He looked up to see Snape kneeling before him, one hand on his wrist taking his pulse. Ron and Hermione were standing behind him, wide-eyed.

Snape looked over his shoulder at Ron. “Now I believe you can understand that I didn’t want to deal with two people having panic attacks.” He turned back toward Harry. “How are you feeling?”

“A bit stupid,” Harry admitted. “I can’t help thinking about the last time I was here. I’ll be all right,” he told them, starting to stand up.

“Probably,” Snape agreed, “but you’re going to sit there until I’m certain of it. Stay there. Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, stay with him so he doesn’t do anything more foolish than normal.”

Ron glared at him, then crouched down to Harry. “Are you really okay? You looked pretty awful there.”

Harry nodded, watching Snape. He had walked over to the basilisk and appeared to be walking its length, measuring it. “How did you kill it?” he called over to Harry.

“I put the sword through the roof of its mouth,” Harry answered.

Snape came back to where they were, drew on a pair of gloves and a leather coat, and strode back to the corpse. There, he carefully opened its mouth and examined it; first the hole left by the sword, then its fangs. “It’s missing a fang,” he said.

“When I stabbed it, it bit me. Its fang broke off in my arm,” Harry told him.

Snape stood up and stared at Harry. After a moment, in which it looked like he started to say several different things, he finally said, “How did you survive?”

“Fawkes’s tears,” Harry answered. “I would’ve been dead if he hadn’t been here. I’m feeling better; can I get up and come over there now? I’m tired of shouting.”

Snape shook his head and rejoined the group. “The headmaster never mentioned that you had been bitten by that thing. I also put the size you gave me down to exaggeration; it would have been perfectly understandable.” Snape looked at the basilisk again, then turned back to the students, his eyes dark and unreadable. “This will be more dangerous than I initially realized; it is not at all appropriate for any of you to be here. Will the door stay open if you leave?”

Harry realized Snape was going to try to get the three of them out of there and cut the thing up by himself. Not only did Harry know it was a bad idea, but he realized he wanted to see it gone. There were too many things that could go wrong and, without Harry, no one else would be able to go in after him. Before he could say anything, Hermione spoke up. “Professor, we’re already here and we knew the risks, better than you did. We ought to help you; it isn’t a job for one person.”

“You’ll never be able to finish this in one day,” Ron added. “I don’t think all four of us can finish in one day. You’ll just have to drag Harry back down here again, and Hermione and I will just insist on coming with him. We might as well help you while we’re here.”

Harry stood up. “It was just coming back in here the first time,” he said. “Now that I’m here, knowing that Ginny’s fine and Riddle’s gone, or his diary-self is, I’m okay and I want to cut that monster up into useful little bits. Pieces that won’t be able to hurt anybody ever again.”

Snape sneered at the three of them, but his expression lacked its usual disdain. “I wouldn’t go that far, Mr. Potter. Many of the potions that use basilisk components are harmful ones. But if you three are so foolish as to continue to offer your services, I’m not fool enough to turn them down. You will, however, follow my instructions to the letter. Is that understood?” After getting agreement from the three of them, he told them to put on gloves, coats and the bowls to protect their heads. He then set the three of them to skinning the basilisk. “We will also collect the shed skin I saw back there where the ceiling collapsed; that has its uses, too.”

While the three of them set to work removing the skin, Snape began on its mouth. He carefully removed each of its teeth, placing each in its own separate container. Once he had finished that, he told them to move to the other side of the Chamber.

“Why?” Hermione asked, obviously keen to see as much of what Snape was doing as she could. When Snape glared at them, they moved to the other side of the Chamber, Hermione still craning to see what Snape was doing.

“I’m about to remove the venom sacs,” he said. “I want no distractions; it is the most dangerous part of this entire operation.” With that, he bent down and cut into the basilisk’s mouth. They could see him remove one sac, as large as a human head and obviously full of venom. Snape carefully placed it into a large, clear container which he sealed. He then stood and stretched, shaking out his muscles. “To answer your next question, Miss Granger, that amount of venom could kill every being in this school twice over. I want to be in full control when I remove the second one, since that one may not be intact.” Snape bent back down and began cutting on the other side. Several minutes later, he stood up, a second sac in his hands. His eyes were troubled; this one held only about half of what the first one had. Harry felt his stomach clench; he had probably had the rest in him. Snape placed it in its own container, sealed it, and walked over to them. “Mr. Potter, sit down,” he snapped, before he’d reached them.

Harry didn’t understand what he meant at first; his brain was still focused on having all that venom in him. Ron had caught on; before Harry could react, Ron had grabbed his arm and was helping him sit down. He didn’t feel as if he were about to faint this time, just as if he were about to vomit. “I’m okay,” he said irritably. “If all that poison didn’t kill me, hearing about it certainly won’t.”

Snape shook his head. “If it helps, I doubt all of that went into you. It’s likely much of it was lost when the fang was broken and the basilisk died.” His hand went back to Harry’s wrist to check his pulse again. Harry pulled away; he wasn’t about to have Snape of all people treat him like a frightened child. “Very well,” Snape sneered at him. “Your color’s better; you should be fine now. Shall we continue?”

They spent the rest of the day cutting up the basilisk. Many of Snape’s containers turned out to be much larger than they appeared; they were able to package up all of their work. Snape had cut up the head, which seemed to be very delicate work judging from the care he took at it. Harry, Ron and Hermione finished skinning it and began carefully deboning it. Snape finally called a halt about suppertime. He stood, stretching out the muscles of his back. “We’ve accomplished quite a bit more than I expected,” he told them. “I believe one more day like this will finish the job.”

Ron took a deep breath and asked, “Professor, my sister would really like to help us finish. Would you allow her to?”

Snape thought a moment, but shook his head. “Miss Weasley will have to exorcise her demons on her own time; I have better things to do.”

Harry tried not to show how relieved he was at Snape’s answer. He really, really, didn’t want to see Ginny here.

They had started to walk back when Snape called to them. “Why walk? It’s easier, and quicker, to fly.” He was already on his broom and had taken off.

Harry and Ron exchanged looks and were on their brooms in a minute. Hermione sighed and climbed on behind Ron. The three of them soared after Snape; Harry passed him before they reached the pipe. When Ron and Hermione reached the bathroom, they handed back Snape’s equipment, as well as everything they’d collected. He left the bathroom, heading for the dungeons.

They headed up to McGonagall’s office to rejoin Hermione’s parents. Ron had permission from his parents to spend the night, so he and Harry had offered to come along while Hermione showed her parents the school. Hermione had accepted, but still seemed troubled. She finally admitted, “It’s like this. I tell them about classes, and Quidditch and all the differences between the Wizarding world and the Muggle world does, but I’ve never told them about what we get up to. You know, the dangerous stuff. They don’t know about Voldemort or anything. So, please, don’t tell them. I don’t want them to worry.”

This announcement stopped Ron and Harry dead in their tracks. “What do you mean, you haven’t told your parents about anything? How can you tell them about me without mentioning Voldemort?” Harry demanded, appalled.

“I told them your parents were murdered by an evil wizard,” Hermione told him calmly, “and that you’ve been raised by your horrible relatives. And I’ve told them what a good friend you are. That’s what’s most important, isn’t it?”

Harry found himself genuinely warmed by what Hermione considered important while at the same time he was appalled at how she had kept her parents ignorant of their danger. “Are they aware that they’re in danger themselves?” he asked quietly.

“Why would they be in danger?”

“Do you admit you’re in danger?” Harry’s voice became even quieter as he felt his anger rising.

“Well, yes, but what difference does that make?” Hermione was starting to sound as if she were talking to an over-emotional child.

The thought that Hermione was intentionally keeping her parents in the dark, as he had been kept in the dark, infuriated him.

“I don’t know. You have worked out that Voldemort might come after me through my friends, haven’t you? And the fastest way to my friends is THROUGH THEIR FAMILIES? DO YOU WANT TO GET THEM KILLED?” Harry roared. . “DON’T YOU THINK THEY HAVE A RIGHT TO PROTECT THEMSELVES? THEIR DAUGHTER?” He was shaking now, in rage and guilt. No one else was going to be hurt because of him or because of ignorance if he could stop it.

Hermione was staring at him, her wide eyes filled with tears. “I didn’t think . . . No one else has said . . . Do you really think they’re in danger?” she finished in a very small voice.

Harry took a breath to tell her exactly what he thought when Ron stopped him. “I think the smartest thing you can do is talk to my parents,” he said. “They know what the danger is and can probably tell you how much your parents are in. I know you think they’re in a lot of danger,” Ron said to Harry, “but I don’t think it’s as much as you think it is. We should talk to my mum and dad and get some advice.”

Both Harry and Hermione agreed that this was probably the best thing to do. Harry realized that he wasn’t angry with Hermione so much as scared for her and her parents. Having her talk to Ron’s mum and dad calmed him down; the Weasleys would be able to convince her to tell her parents what they needed to know. “When did you get so smart?” Hermione asked Ron, giving him a look Harry couldn’t decipher. Ron shrugged as they got to McGonagall’s office.

When they entered the room, it was thick with tension. Professor McGonagall looked very stern, her lips thin and her eyes glittering. Mr. and Mrs. Granger were pale and tense, clutching cups of tea. All three adults turned to look at Hermione as the three of them entered. Harry suspected the conversation with Ron and Hermione didn’t matter; it looked like Hermione’s parents had already been told enough for them to worry.

“Hermione, dear,” her mother said, “please tell us a little more about the potion ingredients you were collecting today?”

“You understand,” her father said. “We were under the impression it was some kind of growth found in the cellars of the castle.”

Hermione froze and glanced at McGonagall. She looked coolly at Hermione, waiting to hear what she had to say. “We were cutting up a creature which, er, died in a hidden part of the building. Harry is the only, well one of only two, people who can get there. Professor Snape told Harry and Ron their help was a requirement to get into the NEWT Potions class. I wasn’t required to help, but as I told you, it is a unique opportunity. I learned a great deal today, about the collection of potion ingredients and dealing with rare creatures.”

Harry was impressed; she had managed to describe what they had been doing today without lying or even stretching the truth too badly. Unfortunately, he had a pretty good idea that her parents already knew more than she had told them. Probably about a great many things.

“Is the other person who can get there this wizard your Professor McGonagall has been telling us about?” Mr. Granger asked. “The one who has been active for over a year? The one whose followers hurt you? In what wasn’t an ‘unfortunate incident’ but a bloody great battle in which you could have died!” He started out sounding calm, but he was on his feet shouting by the time he’d finished.

Mrs. Granger was pale and looked more than a bit frightened. “Darling, why didn’t you tell us how dangerous things were here? We can get you into another school, one where you’ll be safe.”

Professor McGonagall interrupted her. “Mrs. Granger, we have a great deal to discuss and that discussion will need to include your daughter. However, I don’t believe we need to include Mr. Potter or Mr. Weasley in that discussion; they are not properly a part of it.”

“It sounds to me as if they’ve been getting her into trouble for quite some time!” Mr. Granger shouted. “This Potter boy especially has been leading her into danger whenever it suits him! What other . . .”

“Daddy, please stop it,” Hermione interrupted him. She was pale, but she was getting the look in her eye that Harry knew meant trouble; the one that she got when discussing SPEW or Dumbledore’s Army. “First, Harry would do just about anything to keep me out of trouble! He’s pulled me out of trouble more times than I can mention.”

Harry started to contradict her. He had rescued her a few times, but it was usually from something he’d gotten her into in the first place. The look in her eyes stopped him; he could tell that anything he said would just get him into trouble with Hermione.

“But more important than that,” Hermione continued firmly, her voice steady and sure, “is the fact that the trouble we get into isn’t just fooling around. It’s important! Yes, trouble finds Harry, but he doesn’t go looking for it. The wizard who murdered his parents, Voldemort, tried to kill him that same night. He failed, it rebounded on him and almost destroyed him. He’s been trying to return to power, and incidentally, to kill Harry, ever since. Harry’s been fighting him and won’t stop until one of them is dead. And I’ll help him, in whatever way I can, because it’s the right thing to do. Because, if I don’t, if we fail, then evil wins and I, we, won’t let that happen. Not if we can do anything to stop it.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I know now that keeping all of this from you is wrong in several ways. I’m sorry about that, but I’m not sorry for being friends with Harry and Ron and I’m not going to stop being friends with them. And I’m not changing schools. I’m a witch and I need to finish my training.”

“Thanks, Hermione,” Harry told her quietly. “Do you want Ron and I to stay while you, er, discuss all of this with your parents, or should we let you talk privately?”

Mrs. Granger looked at him, troubled and worried and a little overwhelmed. “Harry, do you really believe it has to be you who stops this murderer? Don’t you think that’s a job for the police? Or whatever you wizards call police? You’re just a boy; it shouldn’t be your responsibility.”

Harry looked at her. “Mrs. Granger, I’d like to let the adults handle it but it doesn’t seem to work that way. There’s a lot of reasons for it, but it seems it has to be me. I don’t want Hermione in the middle of it, or Ron or anybody else, but she’s much too good of a friend and won’t get out of it. I’ve tried,” he added ruefully, “but you did too good a job of raising her. She does what’s right, not what’s easy or what’s safe. I wouldn’t mind if you could get her out of this, but I don’t think you can. If it helps, she is the brightest witch of her age, I have that on very good authority.”

“Who said that?” Mr. Granger asked in a tight voice.

Hermione grinned. “What would you say if I told you he was a werewolf?”

All three adults choked at that statement. “Tell me you’re joking, please,” her mother begged.

Professor McGonagall sighed. “Remus?” she asked. Hermione, Harry and Ron all nodded. “I’m afraid they’re not,” she confirmed reluctantly.

Hermione’s parents exchanged horrified looks. “A werewolf,” her father said faintly. “Harry, Ron, I think we need to speak with Hermione alone. Thank you for what you said,” he told Harry. “It’s nice to know our daughter has such loyal friends.”

As they left, Ron turned to Mr. Granger. “She deserves loyalty. She’s one of the most wonderful people I know and I’d do anything for her.” His ears turned red and he walked out abruptly.

Behind him, Harry heard Mr. Granger say to his wife, “I think he might be the one I need to worry about getting my daughter into trouble.” Harry sniggered as he heard her mother laugh. He agreed and wondered how long it would take for Ron to admit it, to himself and to Hermione.

Ron and Harry returned to the common room and ate dinner there quietly. Neither of them seemed able to talk about what had happened that day and, since that was all either of them could think of, they didn’t talk. It wasn’t an awkward silence, though, but a comfortable one.

They were eating pudding when Hermione walked into the common room. When both boys started asking her every question on their minds at once, she interrupted them. “Why don’t I tell you what happened in order instead of answering questions all over the place?” When Ron and Harry agreed, she joined them in front of the fire.

“First, thank you both for what you said when you left. It helped Professor McGonagall and I calm them down by being able to point to what good friends I have. Then, she asked Professor Dumbledore to join us and he helped.”

Hermione sighed and gathered her thoughts. “They’re not going to take me out of Hogwarts. First, it’s where I want to be; second, it’s the best place for me to learn magic and I need to learn magic to stay safe. Because of all that, they agreed to leave me in school. There are conditions to my staying here.” Harry and Ron exchanged nervous glances. “I will be spending all of my school holidays at home, or with my parents. I won’t be allowed to spend more than a night or two visiting friends. They think that the fact that I didn’t spend much time with them the past year let me hide more things from them.”

“It sounds like you were hiding things from them long before last summer,” Harry said.

“Yes, but the really bad stuff started last summer. Then, I have to tell them everything I’ve been up to the last five years, especially any time I spent in the hospital wing and any time I was in danger. After our first year, I asked them not to open any of the notices the school sends home; I’d check them out when I got home. I told them that a lot of Wizarding things wouldn’t make sense to them, so I’d go through the notices and give them what they needed to know. I thought that way they wouldn’t worry about me.” Hermione looked terribly guilty. “In one sense, it worked. Since they didn’t open the notices, they didn’t know I was in danger, so they didn’t worry about me. I thought I’d show them Gryffindor Tower and they could entertain themselves here or visit the Burrow. Instead, they spent the day with Professor McGonagall. They asked her what type of ingredients we were collecting. She told them, ‘They are harvesting ingredients from the basilisk that attacked and petrified students, including your daughter, in her second year.’ They asked her for explanations and, well, by lunchtime, they had heard the worst of it. I am in so much trouble.”

“Are they going to let us stay friends?” Ron asked quietly.

Hermione smiled ruefully. “They have never understood why my two best friends are boys, but they did say you both seemed to be good friends. They want to spend more time getting to know both of you; they’ve decided they’d better know who their daughter’s friends are. They weren’t pleased to discover how complicated having Harry come visit was going to be. When Professor Dumbledore told them that you wouldn’t be allowed to visit unless at least one member of the Order came along, and preferably two or more, Dad asked if he were being visited by a member of the royal family. He never did get a straight answer,” Hermione said.

“I scarcely think Harry’s royalty,” Ron sniggered. “At least having me visit won’t be difficult. Is everything going to be all right for you?” he asked, looking worriedly at her.

“I’ll be fine,” she answered. “But I’d like to talk about something else for a while; it’s going to be a long time before they trust me again and I hate it.”

Ron gave Harry a look. Harry knew Ron thought he should tell Hermione the prophecy. Under normal conditions, he would have, but he wasn’t sure if it was a good time. He knew it would upset her. “Are you up to another horrible piece of information?” he finally asked her.

After Hermione nodded at him, Harry told her, “I told Ron this when he was here last week, but it isn’t something I can put in a letter.” Then, he took a deep breath and repeated the prophecy. When he finished, the three of them sat there in silence for a bit, tears running down Hermione’s cheeks.

While they sat there, Professor McGonagall brought Mr. and Mrs. Granger into the common room. “This is the Gryffindor common room, where the students of my house spend much of their study and free time. And, as I suspected, here is your daughter with her friends.”

“It’s time to go, dear,” Mrs. Granger told Hermione. “Are you ready?”

“One minute, Mum,” Hermione answered. “Harry, may I speak to you for a moment? Privately?”

Harry nodded, and she led him to the bottom of the boys’ dormitory steps and closed the door. “I don’t think Professor McGonagall would approve of your telling us,” Hermione said quickly, “and I don’t feel like having another discussion. I want to look into some things, but I won’t be able to remember it word for word. Can you write it out?”

Harry hadn’t noticed, but Hermione had brought quill and parchment with her. He thought about it, but shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Hermione. Voldemort really wants that prophecy.”

Hermione nodded and asked him to say it again. After Harry had repeated it, she nodded briskly. “Please, don’t write it out,” he begged.

“I won’t,” she said. She looked at Harry intensely, tears in her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Harry. You shouldn’t have to do this, but I’ll do anything I can to help you. Anything.”

When she and Harry returned to the common room, Hermione thanked her parents. She said good-bye to both boys, hugged them both, and kissed Harry on the cheek. “I’ll see you as soon as I can. I would like to finish with the basilisk; it was very educational.”

Ron and Harry were left alone in the common room. “She took that better than I thought she would,” Harry said quietly.

“She didn’t want to upset her parents,” Ron decided. He hesitated before asking with a large gulp of air, “What did she want to talk to you about?”

“She wanted me to write out the prophecy,” Harry said. “I think she wants to research it; she’ll probably buy half of Flourish and Blotts. I wouldn’t let her write it down,” he continued. “It’s just too dangerous.”

Ron nodded. Without discussing it, they agreed not to talk about anything serious for the rest of the evening, instead playing chess until they were too tired to concentrate any more.

Lying in bed that night, Harry tried three of his meditation exercises to clear his mind. After failing with all of them, he then used a spell Dumbledore had taught him that had the same effect. He finally fell asleep, still feeling disturbed and restless.

He awoke to find himself sitting in a high-backed chair, with a man dressed in Death Eater robes kneeling before him. The man said, “My Lord, we have been unable to achieve our objectives without causing massive disruption. However, if we simply gain control of that location, we will have our people back and free to move.”

After a moment, he heard himself say, “It is fortunate you were able to find an alternative. If it succeeds, you will be rewarded. In the meantime, you will be punished.” He saw his hand, with long, spidery fingers, come out of his robes, holding a wand, and heard himself say, “Crucio”.

The man before him screamed and writhed in agony as Harry felt his scar burn, feeling the all-too-familiar pain of the Cruciatus Curse. He sat up screaming.

Ron sat up at Harry’s screams. “What is it?” he asked, rushing to Harry’s bed and tearing open the curtains. “Is somebody being hurt?”

The pain ebbing slowly, Harry was able to gasp out, “One of his Death Eaters. Some plan of his didn’t work, but they think they’ve got an alternative. Damn!” he complained. “I cleared my mind before I went to sleep and it still got through!”

“Hang on a moment,” Ron said and left the dorm. When he came back a moment later, he had a wet flannel that Harry found, when he put it on his head, was very cold.

“Thanks for that, mate,” Harry said. After the pain decreased to a low throb, he asked Ron if he could have some parchment and a quill. When Ron gave him the items, he wrote down everything he could remember about the dream. “I’ll give this to Dumbledore in the morning,” he told Ron. “Maybe he can figure out why this one got through.”

“I hate to say it,” Ron said, “but maybe you not being here, in this world, weakened the connection a bit. You’ve been back long enough that it’s back up to strength.”

Harry stared at Ron wide-eyed. It was such an obvious conclusion, but it never would have occurred to him. He added the theory to the parchment and lay back down. “Thanks, Ron. I’m going to try to go back to sleep.”

“I’m right here if you need me,” Ron said.

Harry cleared his head again and fell asleep. His dreams were of the Chamber, Riddle and Ginny. Sometimes they played out as they had in real life, but in some of them, Riddle defeated Harry.

When Harry woke up in the morning, he felt as if he hadn’t slept at all.

“You look awful,” Ron said when Harry got out of bed. “Didn’t you get any sleep?”

“Nightmares. Not Voldemort,” Harry added when he saw Ron’s shocked expression. “Or not current anyway. I dreamed about the Chamber and Riddle. I must have watched Ginny die at least half a dozen times,” he continued.

“Why don’t we get this note to Dumbledore,” Ron said, looking pale and a little sick.

Harry agreed, but instead of walking to Dumbledore’s office, he asked Hedwig to take the note. Neither had any appetite for breakfast, but they tried to eat anyway. Shortly after they’d given up, and Ron was saying he should be heading back home soon, Hedwig returned with another note tied to her leg. It was from Dumbledore and asked that they both come to his office immediately. Harry discovered he wasn’t at all surprised and Ron didn’t seem to be either.

When they walked into Dumbledore’s office, they found both Dumbledore and Snape waiting for them. Dumbledore motioned that they should both sit. Ron and Harry exchanged glances; neither of them had expected Ron to be able to stay. Dumbledore held up the parchment Harry had owled him earlier. “Does this include everything that happened during the vision you had of Voldemort last night?”

Harry thought a minute. “Yes, sir, at least everything I can remember.”

“Did you clear your mind before bed?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said, and told him which techniques he had used. “It was harder than usual last night; I’m not sure why.”

“If I may, Headmaster?” Snape asked. When Dumbledore nodded, he turned to Harry, “Had you used any of these techniques before last night?” After Harry nodded, he continued, “Have they worked in the past?” He waited for Harry to confirm that, then asked, “Did you feel anything different as you were preparing for sleep last night?”

“I felt wrong,” Harry told them. “I was jumpy from the Chamber, and then Hermione’s parents, and I was really on edge. I thought that’s why it took me so long to clear my thoughts; I was really upset.”

“Were you able to clear your emotions before you went to sleep?”

Harry nodded, which made Snape grimace and Dumbledore sigh. “What does it mean? Other than more Occlumency lessons.”

Dumbledore looked grave. “Although we will certainly continue the lessons, Occlumency may not block the visions. We will have to find a way of testing it, but it is beginning to appear as if the connection between you and Voldemort is not blocked, or even affected, by Occlumency.”

“This may explain why you continue to see things the Dark Lord would prefer you not to see,” Snape continued. “He may also be unable to block the connection. After we confirm this, we will have to see if the connection can be exploited.”

“But, if we try to make it stronger, he’ll be able to see what I do!” Harry shouted. “I don’t want to be his best spy!”

Snape and Dumbledore exchanged glances, a silent communication Harry couldn’t read passing between them.

“What?” Harry demanded. “You said you wouldn’t keep me in the dark any longer! What aren’t you telling me?” Feeling like he would explode if he didn’t do something, he got up and started pacing through the room. The other three watched him almost literally bounce off the walls and furniture of Dumbledore’s office for several minutes. Eventually, the terrible energy Harry felt started to fade and he sat down.

Snape checked the clock. “Headmaster, as I told you earlier, the Dark Lord’s meeting was scheduled to start at nine and last about half an hour. The most difficult part of it was the last item, the strategy session of which I spoke earlier. It is now nine-forty and Mr. Potter has spent just under fifteen minutes behaving as I suspect the Dark Lord has been while being told all the reasons he cannot do what he wishes.”

“I heard that last night!” Harry shouted. “I told you that in the note.”

“Yes, but today’s meeting was to discuss all of the details, which you did not hear,” Dumbledore said. “Your reactions also demonstrate another possible consequence of the connection between the two of you which none of us had recognized. Unfortunately,” he said, his eyes twinkling merrily, “it appears that it is difficult to distinguish between the emotions of extremely powerful Dark wizards and teenage boys.”

“A valuable object lesson for those who wish to gain great power,” Snape answered dryly.

Harry and Ron looked at each other wide-eyed. Had Snape just made a joke? And had Dumbledore set it up? “Er, do you mean when Harry gets so angry, it’s Voldemort?” Ron asked, utterly shocked by the possibility.

“We will need to test this theory further,” Dumbledore told them. “I do not suspect it is completely true; however, at times, especially when Harry is already angry, Voldemort’s anger seems to increase it.”

Harry sat, stunned. He knew he was sometimes able to sense Voldemort’s emotions, when they were different than his own. Could he also be feeling them when they were the same and just not realizing it? He thought over the last year, since he had started to notice it. Then he started to think about earlier, when he’d become so enraged for reasons that just didn’t warrant the anger he felt. He decided that it was possible. “Is it more important to test the theory, or to stop him from affecting me?”

Snape sneered. “It is unlikely you will be able to learn to control your emotions before the theory can be tested, published and debated in academic circles.”

Before Ron could stop sputtering and start yelling, Dumbledore gave Snape a look. “Please, Severus, I don’t think publishing your conclusions entirely . . . safe.” He turned back to Harry. “It will take a while for you learn to calm your emotions, Harry; now that you’re aware of the possibility, you may be able to test it yourself.” He shook his head.

Dumbledore nodded and dismissed them. Before Ron and Harry were able to leave, Snape stopped them. “We will not be able to continue with our task today, but I would like to continue with it tomorrow. Will there be any problems in that?” Harry and Ron agreed to meet Snape in front of Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom at nine the next morning and made their escape.

They decided to check with Ron’s parents and the twins to see if he could spend the next two days at the castle. Professor McGonagall allowed Ron to use her Floo and he was able to get permission to stay. Harry discovered, as they walked back to the common room, that he didn’t want to talk, but he also didn’t want to be alone. When Ron asked what he wanted to do, Harry suggested chess.

“Don’t you want to do something different?” Ron asked. “We have the whole school to ourselves, we can do all kinds of things, explore everywhere without getting into trouble, and you want to play chess?”

“I didn’t sleep well, I feel weird, I want to snap someone’s head off, I don’t want to think or talk or anything.”

Ron looked startled. “Fine with me. If you’re going to play chess without thinking about it, I’ll definitely win.”

The two of them played until lunch. Afterward, they continued until Ron had beaten Harry thirteen times. “Harry, I love beating you at chess, but I can’t play any more. Are you up to exploring the castle or doing something else? Please.”

Harry got up and started pacing around the common room. “Something’s wrong and I can’t figure out . . .” He stopped, almost able to see something. He had a sudden thought. “Ron, please don’t say anything for half an hour. If nothing happens, we’ll explore the dungeons. Deal?”

Ron nodded, looking puzzled. Harry handed him his second Occlumency book and showed him the exercise he was going to try. He started the exercise, which was not supposed to clear his mind but open it. It was one he hadn’t tried before and he wasn’t entirely sure what to expect.

At first, nothing happened; Harry sat on the floor of the common room with his eyes closed, whispering a chant under his breath. He was sure Ron thought he was completely daft. As far as that went, he thought he was completely daft.

All of a sudden, the common room was gone; he was in Voldemort’s head. He was sitting at a desk with a set of blueprints labeled Azkaban before him, making notes on a roll of parchment next to it. Harry felt his blood run cold, what he was seeing were not plans for a breakout, but plans to use the prison as a headquarters. He looked as closely at the plans as he could. There was something written on the roll he couldn’t quite see. He looked as closely as he could. When he tried to reach out to move the scroll, he shocked himself out of Voldemort’s mind and back to the common room.

Harry found himself flat on his back, the back of his head pounding in time to his heartbeat, his throat raw and sore from screaming. Ron was leaning over him, looking like he couldn’t decide if he should stay or run and get help. Harry closed his mouth and tried to sit up.

“What happened?” Ron asked, looking pale and frightened while he helped Harry sit up and get onto the couch. Harry started to explain what he’d done and seen but the world went black.

When Harry opened his eyes again, he found himself looking up at Ron, Dumbledore and Snape. He tried to sit up, but Dumbledore put stopped him. “Harry, Don’t try to sit up yet. First, we need to understand what happened to you. Where did you get this book?” Dumbledore was holding up the book from which Harry had got the exercise he’d used.

“I got it from Professor Snape in the other universe. I’d mentioned needing to learn Occlumency so he gave me some books.”

Dumbledore and Snape exchanged a startled look. “Ron showed us which exercise you used, but we don’t know why you chose that one or what happened.”

“I chose that one because it said that it allows you to determine the source of a mental attack; I thought that might be helpful; I hadn’t felt right all day and thought it might be Voldemort. I’m still not sure I wasn’t right, that it was Voldemort who was making me feel funny . . .”

“So you thought you’d try an unknown mental exercise whose described purpose is to OPEN YOUR MIND. Are you deliberately trying to make it easier for Voldemort?” Snape was red-faced and almost seemed to be having a seizure from pure rage.

“It worked,” Harry shouted back. “I don’t think he knew I was there. I saw plans for using Azkaban as a headquarters. He had a list dividing prisoners into those he’s going to release, those he’s going to try to use and those he’s going to kill. If you give me some parchment, I’ll write down all the names I remember.” Harry glared at Snape. “There was another list. I was able to turn the page, but I couldn’t see what names were there. It was a list of Death Eaters he doesn’t trust.”

There was complete silence for several minutes. No one seemed to know what to say. It was finally Dumbledore who broke the silence. “You must understand, Harry. Both Professor Snape and I have studied Occlumency and Legilimency for years. Neither of us have ever seen this book or heard of the exercise you used. We are understandably concerned about the potential damage you may have done to yourself. Since it left you unconscious, I believe our concerns are justified.”

“I was knocked out,” Harry corrected Dumbledore, “because I was startled when I was able to move his hand, jerked back and wound up hitting my head on the hearth. The dangerous part of that exercise is doing it next to a fireplace.”

“Until we know more about this, I want you to promise you won’t try it again,” Dumbledore said sternly.

Harry took a deep breath. What he was about to do was one of the hardest things he’d ever done, but he wasn’t going to be manipulated any more. “I’m not going to promise any such thing,” he said. “I’d like to know what the Order knows about Azkaban and what it knows about the Death Eaters contacts with Fudge. That’s what they were talking about in my dream last night, isn’t it? They’re trying to do a deal with Fudge, but they can’t do it directly, so they’re going to take over Azkaban. As long as they don’t obviously release the prisoners, they think there’ll be no panic, because everybody accepted the dementors, and people being imprisoned without trials, and everything else! Is any of the information I’ve given you today wrong? Does it contradict your intelligence? Am I wrong, or are you trying to do such a good job of protecting me that someone else dies?” Harry discovered that, at some point, he’d stood up from the couch and was backing Dumbledore against the wall. He was shaking with rage, he couldn’t tell whether it was his own or Voldemort’s, and he no longer cared.

Harry stood there breathing hard. He didn’t know what he was going to do next, and that scared him. Before he could figure it out, Ron grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back.

Snape’s gaze was ice cold, not that Harry cared. “Since you so clearly do not care if the Dark Lord takes over your mind, I think the Headmaster and I should leave. Neither of us needs this kind of insult.” With that, he swept out of the common room.

Dumbledore looked at Harry sadly. “I know I have failed you but I won’t stop doing what is within my power to protect you. Your information is still too recent for us to be able to confirm or deny it. Harry, please be careful. I . . .”

Harry didn’t let him finish. “I’m not trying to be reckless, but I don’t want to be protected at anyone else’s expense. Ever.” Looking at Dumbledore, who looked not just old but ancient, he sighed. “I’ll look more carefully into that exercise and the book as a whole. But if I can get more information, I have to. I may have got Sirius killed, but I did save Ron’s dad.”

Dumbledore seemed unable to say anything else. He quietly shook his head and left.

Ron was staring at Harry wide-eyed. “I can’t believe you talked to Dumbledore that way.” After a minute, he continued hesitantly, “What if he’s right? What if there’s something wrong with that book?”

Harry tried to think of a way of convincing Ron he was right when he realized he had a very good way of doing so. “I’ll be right back,” he said. After discovering that racing up the stairs left his head spinning, he walked carefully up them. He brought the mirror back down with him. “We can ask the other Sirius about it,” he told Ron.

“You can talk with the other universe?” Ron asked. “Wicked. Anybody, or just Sirius?”

“I haven’t asked to speak with anyone but Sirius,” Harry said. He called Sirius’s name into the mirror.

In about a minute, Sirius’s face appeared in it. “Harry, how are you doing?” It only took a minute to explain about the book, the exercise and what he had seen. After thinking about it a moment, Sirius asked, “Which book?”

“Occlumency to Legilimency: An Auror’s Guide,” Harry told him. “I haven’t worked my way through all of the theory, but the exercises section is easy to read and understand.”

Sirius’s face cleared. “Good.” When Harry looked puzzled at him, he continued, “I’ve used that book and I know it. Which exercise?”

“It was the Patesco Animus exercise,” Harry said. “I chose it because it says it allows you to connect with another person’s mind. I decided since I seem to keep seeing through his eyes in my dreams, I’d try to see things while I was awake. It worked even better than I expected it to; I wasn’t only able to see through his eyes, I actually moved his hand. That’s when the spell broke, though.”

Sirius was quiet for several minutes, clearly thinking. He finally spoke. “That exercise is supposed to open a mental connection between two people so they can work together better. You need to be very careful with that spell; if he had realized what you were doing, he could have opened a parallel connection to you. If you want to continue down that path, I’ll help you find something a little safer, more one-way. The book is legitimate, but I will ask you not to try any more of the exercises until you’re sure what they do. OK?” Harry agreed and they broke the connection.

Harry’s uneasy agitation was gone, so the two boys decided to go exploring after supper. They didn’t find anything new or secret; the Marauder’s Map was proving to be very extensive. It was very late when they returned to the common room on their way to bed.


Chapter Four: Summer's End