The Next Dance

THE NEXT DANCE

BY AERIE22

CHAPTER 2

FREE

Harry and Parvati were chatting quietly when they noticed the commotion at the entrance to the hospital wing. Harry sat up and carefully stood, reaching for his wand. Parvati watched him as his jaw suddenly dropped and a broad smile appeared on his face. He lurched forward as the man in black met him. The two embraced warmly.

"You're free!" Harry exclaimed.

Sirius, his eyes shut and an small, uncertain smile playing across his face, grunted. "Yes, you young sprout, it appears that I am," he said in a faraway voice. He loosened his embrace on Harry to take a close look at his godson. "How are you doing?" he asked with concern and pain in his eyes. "I got an owl from the Ministry and then from Remus that said you fought Voldemort. He didn't hurt you, did he?"

Harry gave Sirius a wintry smile and shook his head. "He came for me. But we hurt him. Maybe bad. Nobody knows."

"We? You and Dumbledore?"

Harry gave a small chuckle. "No, me and Parvati. My girlfriend," he said, still a little amazed to be saying that word about anyone, much less someone he had rarely thought about before this past week. "Let me introduce you."

Harry made his introductions as both Sirius and Parvati stared at each other, unsure what to think. Parvati had spent her life thinking of Sirius Black as one of the most notorious and vicious killers of all time. And Sirius was simply perplexed. Harry was such a shy, unassuming kid who suddenly was sitting there on a hospital bed, holding hands with a lovely young woman.

And Harry looked different. More grown up. More confident than the diffident young kid he had last seen months before.

With some prompting and prodding by Harry, Parvati began to help describe their confrontation with the Dark Lord.

However, Harry noted that she wasn't her normal animated self, often pausing to await questions from Sirius or looking to Harry to continue the tale.

At first, Sirius was somewhat subdued, as well. But soon, his conversation seemed to pick up and he became more animated, joking and laughing about Harry's and Parvati's adventures, and occasionally alluding to things and events that Harry didn't quite understand. But then, that was Sirius, he thought to himself. Always going on about something or other from his days as a Marauder and seemingly including Harry in on the action, giving him a real feel for what his father was like.

He didn't notice Parvati's reactions.

Parvati had been a little nervous on meeting Sirius. She hadn't known of Harry's relationship to Sirius until the night before in the hospital wing when Dumbledore brought up Peter Pettigrew's capture and confession. Somehow, even Harry's descriptions of his adventures with Sirius and Lupin and of his developing friendship and admiration for his godfather didn't reassure her completely.

So she watched. She would fill in a point or detail here or there in Harry's descriptions of their confrontation with Voldemort. And she made suitable annoyed or caring sounds when Harry told Sirius about their newly formed relationship.

But mostly she watched and listened. Years of being a baby sister in a large family taught her when to take center stage, which she all-to-happily would do. But it also taught her to listen. And not just listen, but to be aware of what was being said, and what was being left unsaid. And long nights of nervous or excited rehashes of family conversations with her twin sister Padma, trying to understand the grown-up world of her older brothers and sister, had helped Parvati hone her skills of observation. It now was serving her well in observing the ever changing relationships among the various players at Hogwarts, although now the whispered late-night analyses were with Lavender and the product was not so much understanding as speculation and gossip.

As she watched and listened to Sirius, her physical fear of him faded. However, another fear in her grew. He could be dangerous, she saw. But he loved Harry. And she now understood he would do anything for his godson.

But there was something more there. Sirius was talking to Harry as a contemporary. But not as an adult. And he was talking about things Harry couldn't know about. Things that had happened years ago. And he was talking to Harry not as someone relating stories about his father, but as if Harry had been there to share the adventure.

Harry was enthralled. He didn't know his father, and Parvati knew he was desperate to know more. So even when a shadow of confusion passed over Harry's face, he sat there in rapt attention as one story after another tumbled out of Sirius.

And suddenly, Harry was enthusiastically recounting his own adventures to Sirius, with the occasional dramatic embellishment unlike what Parvati had heard from him before. She frowned. Was this an element of Harry's personality she hadn't encountered before? But as she listened, she shook her head. No. She had begun to get to know Harry, and this wasn't the real Harry. This wasn't the Harry who would haltingly confess to heroism; who would, without thinking, leave out huge, important parts of his life, thinking them unworthy of note; and who was straightforward and honest to the point that at times, bordered on blandness.

This was a different Harry. A Harry desperately seeking a connection with a father he never knew. Someone who didn't know if his father was a hero or a villain, but who was anxious to fit into his shoes if it meant recreating from scratch a connection that was never there. And Sirius was the one person who might be able to share that knowledge, to create that connection.

Harry had just finished telling Sirius of their early morning foray under the invisibility cloak down to the kitchens for a dish of ice cream, when Sirius began laughing.

"Just like your father," Sirius said breathlessly. He recovered himself and looked at his godson fondly. "You look and act more and more like him every time I see you, eh, 'Prongs'?"

Parvati frowned. "He is not his father," she said levelly.

"Huh?" Sirius said as both he and Harry turned to look at her.

"Harry is not his father," she said firmly.

Harry frowned but Sirius looked puzzled. "I...I know he's not James. It's just...well he looks so much like him and acts like him..."

"How would you know, Sirius?" she asked quietly with a dark expression.

Sirius looked at the girl in confusion. "He...just...I don't know. He's a lot like his father, that's all."

Parvati frowned. "Sirius, Harry never knew his father. He wasn't raised by his father. He didn't even know what his father looked like until he was almost twelve years old. Right, Harry?"

Harry had a concerned look on his face, unsure of what was going on. "Yeah, I guess I mentioned that the other night."

Parvati nodded. "And he doesn't know what his dad was like. Maybe you can tell him. But he is not his father. He's Harry. Try to remember that."

Sirius was now staring intently at Parvati. "He is a lot like his father."

Parvati returned the stare. "How?"

Sirius's eyes narrowed mischievously. "Well, it appears that he has the same way with the ladies."

Parvati's eyes narrowed in anger, knowing she was being challenged, even baited. She turned to Harry. "How many girls have you dated, Harry?" she asked softly.

Harry flushed. "Well, none..."

"The Yule Ball..." she whispered.

Harry shrugged. "Well, you, I guess."

Parvati nodded. "And how many girls have you kissed?"

Harry frowned, getting annoyed. "Well, if you have to know, I went snogging with Pam DeMarco this summer. A couple times. And I kissed Sara Geddes, and she was a lot older and very pretty. And I kissed Hermione. And you, of course."

Parvati, realizing she had upset him, reached for Harry's hand. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to embarrass you, Harry. You're a wonderful kisser. But Sirius here seems to think you spend all your time in the Astronomy Tower," she said with an upset expression. "And we will, if I can help it," she whispered to him.

Parvati then turned sharply to Sirius. "He's not James. He's Harry. And I don't want him to be anything but Harry. I don't want you trying to turn him into something he's not. I don't know what James Potter was like, but I am sick and tired of people looking at Harry and seeing James."

Sirius blinked and looked at Harry, who was turned toward Parvati and whose face was going through a series of changes, from annoyance to affection to confusion and back again.

Sirius shook his head and turned back to look at Parvati with new respect. "I think I understand," he said quietly. "Snape?"

Parvati nodded.

Sirius nodded in return and sighed sadly. "And me, too, I suppose."

Harry watched in confusion. "Will somebody tell me what's going on?"

Parvati pulled Harry into a hug. "Snape hated your father. That's why he hates you," she whispered.

Harry struggled for a moment in her tight embrace and then surrendered to it, still a little confused. "I know," he muttered.

Sirius smiled at the couple and shook his head slowly. He made to rise, but Parvati, noticing his movement, let Harry go.

"Don't go yet. I'm sure you and Harry have a lot more to talk about."

Sirius sat back down and ran his hand across his face. "Well, I really need to get cleaned up..." he said, seeing something new in Parvati's eyes. He nodded, and smiled a little more broadly, understanding all that the girl was trying to tell him. "But I suppose a shower and a shave, a real shower and a shave, can wait a little while longer...if you can stand to be around me a little more," he said with a grin.

Parvati snorted with a smile. "I've had enough Quidditch players in the family, and done enough riding myself, that I'm now immune to the smell of a little sweat."

Harry settled back, puzzled, but with a growing sense that whatever went on between Sirius and Parvati was now over and, if they hadn't quite become friends yet, at least they understood each other.

* * *

Parvati was just starting to relax in Sirius's presence when there was more commotion at the entrance to the hospital wing. Sirius jumped and ducked out of habit from years on the run and Harry reached for his wand again.

But this time, it was Parvati's eyes that lit up.

"Mummy! Daddy! Everybody! You made it!"

Harry and Sirius stared as a small crowd of people ran up to surround and hug Parvati.

The Patil family gabbled excitedly, seeing that their daughter was fit and healthy despite her ordeal.

Harry assumed that the tall, thin man with slicked-back, graying black hair and wearing trim, conservative business robes was Parvati's father, Sanjit. And the middle-aged woman with long plaited dark brown hair and a warm concerned smile was her mother, Lil. And, of course, Padma, Parvati's twin sister.

But the rest of the group was about as diverse as he could imagine one family to he. Most he could recognize from Parvati's descriptions of them. There was a tall intense-looking man who looked like a younger version of Sanjit who must be Parvati's oldest brother, Hari, who was being groomed to take over Patil Imports. And the one the ministry robes with the sandy blonde hair and beard peeping out from under an elaborate turban must be Hanuman, the self-styled Sikh and troublemaker. The prim young woman with a pleasant, concerned face, and a somewhat thicker frame than Parvati and Padma, must be Lakshmi, the older sister. That left two other men. One had the dark, smoldering looks of a Muggle film star. The other looked much younger, almost young enough to still be in Hogwarts. He was athletic looking and was the only member of the family who wore the traditional bindi, the vermilion dot on his forehead. He had long, jet black hair. But Harry looked at him closely. At the part in his hair, it looked like he was showing...blonde roots?

Harry and Sirius watched as the turbaned one complained loudly about being forced to take the Hogwarts' Express instead of just Apparating in to Hogsmeade because of the wards installed in a general lockdown around Hogwarts.

But the first one to notice Harry and Sirius was the good-looking brother. He suddenly stepped away from the rest of the family and approached Sirius. "You're taller than I thought you'd be."

Sirius blinked. "You a Red Robe?"

The man nodded, not reacting to the old epithet for an Auror. He held his hand out to the former fugitive. "Shanmukha Patil. Senior Auror. Call me Shane."

Sirius was nonplussed. "Shane? You were one of the ones after me."

Shane nodded. "Never came close. You've got a lot to teach us."

Sirius bristled, but realized that he was now surrounded by Aurors and not one had made a move against him or even attempted to remove his wand.

Shane gave him a deep look. "We have to talk...later. And don't worry. I was there when Pettigrew confessed," he said before returning to his sister's bedside.

Sirius put his head down. It finally struck him with full force. 'It's all true,' he thought. The Ministry pardon that somehow got to him by owl last night was not a hoax or ruse. Remus's letter was correct. He was free. He was finally free. His gaze rose again to look over at the Patil family and at Shane, the Auror. But instead, his eyes locked with the older sister. She was staring at him with a thoughtful look. After a moment, she realized what she was doing and suddenly looked away, blushing slightly. Sirius shook his head and sat down next to Harry to resume talking with his godson.

* * *

THE LOVER'S SHOWDOWN

IN THE FORBIDDEN FOREST

By B.Z. Zorch and the staff of the Daily Prophet

HOGWARTS, Sept. 30--It was only supposed to be a quiet tryst away from prying eyes as the lovers entered the Forbidden Forest surrounding Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Little did they know they were walking into a trap, a rendezvous with Death.

Harry Potter, the brooding, emerald-eyed savior of the wizarding world, and his lover, a sultry vixen named Parvati Patil, were confronted by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and five of his minions. Their sole purpose: The death of the two young lovers.

But Potter, who as a mere infant defeated the Dark One, was more than a match for his rival. The young hero was able to cast a spell so powerful as to immobilize the five Death Eaters who attacked the duo. Free to confront the Dark Lord, Potter cast a massive spell that immobilized the creature. "It was like they were enclosed in a globe of energy," says Cho Chang, a fellow Hogwarts student and member of the Ravenclaw House Quidditch team that, upon seeing the magical pyrotechnics in the Forbidden Forest, abandoned their practice to come to the aid of Potter and Patil. "We tried to help, but our spells had no effect," she says.

But it could have been a curse by Patil that spelled doom for You-Know-Who. Somehow, the dark haired beauty's love for her man managed to overcome the bubble of magical energy, allowing her to cast an Incendio spell against the Dark One, sending him back to whatever hell he came from, according to Cyrus Thomas, senior Auror.

Potter and Patil first became lovers at last year's Yule Ball at Hogwarts...

* * *

Harry heard Parvati's shriek and was on his feet and by her side in an instant, only to be greeted by the angry stares of several members of the Patil clan.

"Look at what they wrote about us," she cried, clutching at Harry's hospital robe. "It's all lies!" she screamed, collapsing in tears against Harry's chest.

"This is not a matter for outsiders, Potter. I think you should go," intoned Hanuman.

"Shut up, Monkey," Shane snapped. "You heard Parvati. It's a pack of lies. And I should know. I've seen enough of their lies about our work," he said harshly.

"Hanuman," Sanjit commanded, and Parvati's second youngest brother shrunk back.

"Yeah," said the young brother with the blond roots. "Hey, Harry. Remember me? We played against each other in your first year. I was on the Ravenclaw seeker line. Maybe you can help me in something..."

"Shut up, Gani," Shane warned as several members of the family rolled their eyes.

Sanjit closed his eyes. "Ganapathi, please be quiet for once." Hari simply nodded solemnly over his father's shoulder.

Harry gave Gani a puzzled look. Wasn't he here in the hospital wing when Gryffindor played Ravenclaw in his first year?

Now several members of the Patil family were chattering back and forth as Sirius came up and put his hand on Harry's shoulder. "Maybe we should let them all sort things out," he said quietly, once again noticing Lakshmi staring at him, then looking away.

Harry sighed and gave Parvati a quick peck on the cheek. She glanced up at him with an upset and exasperated look. "I'll be over there in the corner if you need me," he whispered over the growing uproar among Parvati's family. "We'll find a way to take care of it."

* * *

Now alone, Harry looked at his godfather with concern. "You look even thinner than the last time I saw you. Are you all right?"

Sirius shrugged with a smile. "It was a slow summer," he said quietly. "Mostly staying in place, watching and waiting. There wasn't much I could do, or was allowed to do, being on the run and all. That and hearing ominous reports from people like Snape. He's a world-class prat, but I've got to give him credit. I wouldn't want to hang out with that crowd, never knowing who the next one to be taken would be and whether that person would be me," he said quietly.

Harry sat down on the bed in the corner and glanced over in amusement as Madame Pomfrey was trying desperately, and unsuccessfully, to calm the uproar being caused by the Patils in the middle of the hospital wing.

Then he turned back to his godfather, who had sat at the other end of the bed. Sirius was leaning back, his eyes closed in what could be exhaustion or, perhaps, relief. Harry looked at the man who was his closest connection to his long-dead parents. Twelve years in Azkaban and over two years on the run had taken its toll on his godfather. Sirius's lean, angular, wolfish face was sallow and his eyes had dark rings under them. He had several days' growth of beard and his dark hair, which now was showing an occasional gray strand, was lank and hung over his forehead in disarray.

And he looked weary. Not the weariness of too little sleep, but one born of years of dodging, hiding, looking over one's shoulder. Of too many nights spent sleeping with one eye open on ground a little too hard and a little too cold. And of too many days spent in the shadows while others basked in the sunlight.

"Is it finally over?" he muttered, as if to himself.

"No, my friend. I am afraid it is not," came a kindly, familiar voice from just over Harry's shoulder.

Sirius opened his eyes and gave Professor Dumbledore a weary smile. "Hello, Headmaster."

"Sirius," Dumbledore said with a concerned smile and a nod. "I hope you are well. We will do our best to help you return to the world that betrayed and abandoned you."

Sirius nodded. "Thank you, Albus," he said thoughtfully. "But he's still alive?"

Dumbledore nodded sadly. "One of the nurses kidnapped from St. Mungo's managed to Disapparate during a lull in treating Voldemort. I'm sure someone will pay dearly for that. She reported that he has second and third degree burns over more than two-thirds of his body. But he is alive. His recovery will be long and painful. But recover he shall. And when he does, he will doubtless act against us again. But we now know more. And will be better prepared for him."

Harry sighed. "What about all those Death Eaters?"

Dumbledore gave a sad nod. "They've gone to ground. My friend, William Masterson at the Ministry of Magical Law Enforcement, tells me that some 30 Death Eaters have been named by Peter Pettigrew and Hugh Nott. But only six have been captured. The rest have fled, many with all their assets."

Harry nodded. "Including Lucius Malfoy," he said morosely.

Dumbledore nodded again. "And it appears that he left with some 400,000 Golden Galleons. Aurors have taken over Malfoy Manor. And there are some very disturbing reports of what has been found."

Sirius sighed. "So it's not over."

Dumbledore looked at the former fugitive and gave him a wintry smile. "At least now you can fight in the daylight, my friend. You are free at last."

* * *

Harry's bored expression turned from one official to the other. There was the Minister of Magical Law Enforcement William Masterson. He was not a tall man, but he gave off a presence of someone much larger, with broad shoulders and an intense look. He had close-cropped brown hair that was beginning to go gray and a small mustache that turned up at the ends in what looked like the beginnings of a small handlebar. Professor Dumbledore liked and trusted him. Harry wasn't so sure, as his questions were tough and probing and not always entirely friendly.

Harry did know and did trust Cyrus Jordan, Lee's father. Cyrus had been there for him when he first moved in with the Strowbridges. And he had been escort and bodyguard to Harry, along with Hermione, Ron, Fred, George and Ginny, when they rode from Little Whinging to Diagon Alley. And was there to watch over them until they got to the Hogwarts Express the next day. And he was there again during the battle in the Forbidden Forest and now here in the hospital wing, heading up the detail protecting him and Parvati.

Harry leaned back in his chair in the private meeting room that normally served as a lounge for teachers and hospital wing staff adjacent to the hospital wing itself. He didn't know what to think about the two other law enforcement figures in the room. They were introduced simply as Byrd and Callahan. Byrd was a quiet woman of indeterminate age, possibly as young as her late 20s or as old as her early 40s. She had short, dark brown hair and an quiet intensity as she watched the proceedings. And Callahan was a pale-faced middle-aged man with no particular distinguishing characteristics other than that he seemed to be of medium height, medium build with medium brown hair and seemingly medium intelligence. He simply sat quietly and listened in a detached manner. Harry knew from a whispered conversation between two of the Aurors on duty that Byrd and Callahan were Unspeakables.

The final government official was Sejanus Cross, a special assistant to Cornelius Fudge. Cross reminded Harry of no one as much as Percy Weasley. In his late 20s, Cross gave all the indications of an officious, humorless, smug bureaucrat, desperately searching for the main chance. And everyone in the room could see it.

Dumbledore sighed as Cross began speaking again, going over the same territory for the fifth time. "Now I want this clear for the record. You did not know that you were heading toward the location in the Forbidden Forest until informed so by the Patil girl immediately before arrival. Is that correct?"

Harry sighed. "Her name is Parvati."

"Whatever," Cross said absently.

Harry got a mischievous look. "Not Padma Patil. Parvati Patil."

Cross looked up, then went back to his notes, scanning several pages until happening on the scribbled note. "Yes," he muttered. "Padma is the twin. Parvati is 'subject two' in our investigation."

Harry smiled to himself, then feigned a worried expression. "Does that mean Padma is 'subject one'? I'd hate for her to get in trouble," he said in a concerned voice, bringing smiles from Dumbledore, Masterson and Cyrus. Byrd and Callahan simply continued to listen.

Cross turned to the first page of his notes, which listed the dramatis personae of his investigation. "No...Padma Patil is...witness 34. Not terribly relevant as we have established that she had no contact with subjects 'one' or 'two' in the two days immediately preceding the incident in question. No, not relevant."

Harry gave an inward chuckle and was about to make another flip remark to Cross when he began to feel it. His scar.

Harry grabbed the arms of the chair and braced himself. Suddenly the pain hit and his body arched forward.

And just as suddenly, he felt as if the whole upper part of his body had been stripped of its skin and that raw nerve endings were being probed. He could just sense the growling scream inside struggling to surface. He gritted his teeth against the pain and tried to concentrate.

The room was bright. There were several people he did not recognize around him, looking down at him, all with terrified expressions. He could just make out the mumbling of strained voices. He began to hear screaming, an incoherent rage and pain being voiced.

Finally one face looked down at him, a face of a middle-aged, balding man that was a mask of fear and sorrow.

'Drink this. It will ease the pain,' the voice said in a surprisingly soothing manner.

And Harry understood.

"No! Don't drink it!" Harry screamed through his own pain.

Suddenly, the perspective of Harry's vision changed as the head turned away, only intensifying the pain.

"Don't drink it, you bastard!!!" Harry screamed, feeling his own pain increase, as if the skin was being ripped from his face and neck. "SUFFER, YOU BASTARD!!! SUFFER!!!"

Harry could feel his head thrashing back and forth to avoid the balding man's ministrations. But a strong pair of hands gripped his head, causing the pain to shoot through his head and shoulders with renewed vigor.

Harry could feel the potion being dribbled into the mouth. It wasn't his mouth, but Harry could feel it. He tried to forcibly spit it out, but he couldn't. Slowly the pain receded. And Harry collapsed.

* * *

The room slowly came into focus. Harry was not in the lounge, but in a screened-off bed in the hospital wing. Dumbledore was by his side, and Madame Pomfrey was on his other side, feeling his forehead with one hand while checking his pulse with the other. He recognized Mercy, one of Pomfrey's assistants, looking on with concern, holding a couple potions bottles.

Harry closed his eyes again. His scar ached a little, but the searing pain he felt over the rest of his body was gone.

He opened his eyes slowly again and smiled up at Pomfrey. "Thank you," he said in a soft, hoarse voice. "I think I'm all right now."

Madame Pomfrey looked down at him. "So you are awake, are you, Mister Potter? And telling me how to do my job? Well, maybe we should make you head of the hospital wing and let you deal young witches and wizards who seem to know everything except how to keep themselves out of my ward," she said in a huff, with only a small hint of humor in her voice.

Harry gave her a small smile and turned to Dumbledore, who was watching him carefully. "I do believe Madame Pomfrey knows what she is doing, Harry," he said softly. "After all, she has been practicing on you for the past five years or so," he said with a hint of a twinkle in his eye.

Finally, Pomfrey stepped back. "All right, Mister Potter. You seem to be fine. Now drink this...and all of it, mind you."

Harry slowly rose and grabbed the large beaker containing a nearly clear, pale green fluid. He recognized it as one of Pomfrey's restorative potions. He took the beaker and drank it down. At least this potion wasn't too bad. It tasted vaguely of fruit and odd spices and left a chalky aftertaste.

Pomfrey nodded and took the empty beaker. "Now I want you to take this other potion as soon as the headmaster is through with you," she said, taking one of the vials from Mercy and placing it next to Harry's bed. Pomfrey turned to Dumbledore. "And see that he does," she told Dumbledore firmly, and turned and walked away with Mercy at her heels.

Harry watched their retreat and sighed before turning to face Professor Dumbledore.

"You saw Voldemort, didn't you?" Dumbledore said quietly.

Harry simply nodded.

Dumbledore's eyes no longer had their characteristic twinkle as he stared over his half-moon reading glasses. "You tried to hurt him," he said without a hint of questioning.

Harry looked away and off into the distance. "He was already hurt. I could feel it."

Dumbledore pursed his lips. "What did you feel?"

Harry paused. "My scar hurt. Then it felt like my skin was being ripped from my flesh."

Dumbledore closed his eyes and sighed. "The burns," he said flatly.

Harry nodded.

The two sat there in silence for a long time.

Finally, Dumbledore broke the silence. "How bad is he?"

Harry gave a vague shrug. "I felt the pain in my face and neck and all up and down my chest and back. Maybe more, but those were what hurt the most."

Dumbledore nodded. "But you could breathe."

Harry nodded.

Dumbledore pondered. "That matches up with what the nurse who escaped said. Bad burns. Terrible burns. A long convalescence. And a painful one. But he will recover provided no infection sets in," he said as if to himself. "Did you see anyone else there?"

Harry shrugged. "Some people I didn't recognize. Death Eaters, maybe. And another man. Balding...maybe a little heavy."

Dumbledore concentrated. "Probably the MediWizard they kidnapped. Dr. Bradbury. A good man, from what I've heard."

Harry nodded. "He was scared. But he was trying to help."

Dumbledore turned to look intently at Harry. "And you tried to stop him."

Harry frowned. "He was trying to give Voldemort a potion. A pain potion. I tried to get Voldemort to refuse it."

Dumbledore's stare was now even more intent. "Did anything happen?"

Harry paused. "He turned his head away from the potion. A couple times. But they made him drink it anyway. And the pain went away."

Dumbledore leaned forward and rubbed his hands over his face and eyes. He then leaned back and looked at Harry again.

"I want you to think, Harry. You've had a couple episodes with your scar like this in the past. Has Voldemort ever done anything to you? Tried to make you do anything?"

Harry pondered. "No...I just knew my scar hurt. And sometimes I could see things. Things around him. Like what he was doing. Usually, he was angry. Or pleased. Not like this time. I could see it all, but couldn't feel anything except the pain...and maybe the anger."

Dumbledore nodded slightly. "Did he know you were there? There with him?"

Harry looked away, thinking. Finally, he shook his head. "I don't know. I don't think so."

"Does he know now?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know."

Dumbledore leaned back on the chair, thinking. Finally, he turned toward Harry. "It may be that you are connected more closely to Voldemort than we suspected. Or that even he suspects. Maybe he still doesn't realize it."

Harry watched the headmaster, who continued to think deeply. Finally, Dumbledore leaned very close to him.

"Harry, whenever you feel another episode like this come on, I want you hold back. I understand your anger, your hatred of him. But do not do anything. I want you just to observe. Remember everything. Write everything down. Even the most insignificant detail. And come to me immediately after it ends. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded.

Dumbledore began to rise, but then stopped and sat down again, leaning forward. "Harry, remember what we discussed? About how anger can be a tool to focus on what's important? It also can be a weapon in our enemies' hands. Do not let your anger interfere with our battle against Voldemort. I know you want to punish him, to hurt him. But don't let your anger overcome the potential of the weapon you now possess. Because I fear that, if you can affect him through this connection and use it unwisely, he soon will come to understand it and use it against you. And we will have lost something invaluable in our battle against him."

Harry nodded an looked away.

"Do you understand, Harry?" Dumbledore said quietly.

Harry nodded again. "Yes, I understand."

* * *

Narcissa Malfoy was devastated. She had been the grande dame of Slytherin Society, the beautiful wife of one of the richest and most powerful wizards in the world. It was her payment for putting up with a loveless and empty marriage.

Now, it was all over. Lucius was a fugitive. All the cash was gone. The Manor in Ministry hands. And the final blow. No one would agree to take her in. None of her friends. No relatives. Well, there was that distant cousin who lived in a small flat in Diagon Alley, but she didn't matter. She was a nobody.

But now Narcissa paused. If Carmina Malfoy Delaney was a nobody, what of Narcissa Malfoy? No money. No name. No friends. Nothing.

Eighteen years of marriage, a marriage arranged, but one she embraced. And then the shock of reality. The powerful, sharp-faced young man who she knew and dated from Hogwarts now saw her simply as another possession, as if she were just another robe in his closet. He was away more than at home and, even when he was at the Manor, seemed absent from her life more than present.

She felt like a courtesan of a lesser class, there for his pleasure when he wanted her, on his arm when he needed it ornamented with her presence, a brood mare for dynastic purposes, but otherwise simply a fixture not to be noticed unless needed for the moment only to be forgotten immediately afterward.

Her reward: The Manor. The Wealth. The fear and envy of those in whose circles she traveled.

And now all those rewards had evaporated.

All was lost. Everything.

So in a cramped, dingy room in an inn not three miles from Malfoy Manor, Narcissa Malfoy pressed her wand against her chest and uttered the curse quietly: Avada Kedavra.

Her last thoughts were of missed chances and riches lost.

Somehow, in her despair, she overlooked her son, Draco Malfoy.

* * *

"Harry," Shane whispered in the now nearly empty hospital wing.

Harry started. For most of the afternoon, he had been pondering the implications of what the Headmaster had told him. Even after a nap and his return to the hospital bed next to Parvati, even sitting there holding her hand, he could think of little else.

Harry looked up at the Auror who seemed to have a small, conspiratorial smile on his face. Harry didn't know what to think. Was it a friendly smile? Or one that Aurors used just before bringing the dementors in.

Shane Patil chuckled at the look on Harry's face. Then Harry noticed Cyrus Jordan sit down next to Shane. He relaxed a little.

Shane nodded and Parvati came over and sat next to Harry on the bed.

Shane pursed his lips and turned to Cyrus, giving him a raised eyebrow. Cyrus nodded and began to speak.

"Shane tells me that the Daily Prophet has implied some things in their reporting that aren't true about you two."

Harry looked wide-eyed at Parvati, and both turned to nod.

Cyrus looked closely at the couple. "You aren't sleeping together?"

Harry and Parvati both went crimson.

Shane cleared his throat. "You don't have to answer that," he said mildly.

"We're not!" Harry squeaked, now convinced that he would be cursed to kingdom come by Shane any minute now.

Shane chuckled again at Harry's and Parvati's frightened faces. "Don't worry. I'm the last one to tell Parvati how she should run her life. But then, she isn't the one who would face Monkey's knife," he said with an evil smile.

"Shut up!" Parvati exclaimed. "I thought you hid that stupid dagger."

By now, Shane was laughing.

Parvati turned to Harry. "We all think Hanuman likes to pretend to be a Sikh just so he can wear that stupid ceremonial dagger. Daddy's furious. He says it's disrespectful to real Sikhs and an embarrassment to the family."

Shane smiled. "Dad's right. But don't worry. Monkey will find something new to obsess on shortly. He's been a Sikh now for what, almost a year?"

Harry was still looking back and forth between Shane and Parvati in anxious confusion.

At this point, Cyrus stepped in again. "Look, Harry. We run into bad press all the time. Mostly lies or exaggerations. So what we do is go to a friendly reporter, or at least one who will be friendly for an exclusive, and give them an irresistible story to get our own message across."

Harry looked at Cyrus, completely befuddled.

He gave Harry and Parvati a broad smile. "Look, the Daily Prophet has planted the notion in the minds of their readers that you were off to the Forbidden Forest for a quick shag..."

Shane gave an involuntary snort, but otherwise remained silent.

Cyrus gave him a quick glance and then resumed. "But you weren't. So let's find a friendly reporter who can get the truth out there. And there's no better way to do that than giving that friendly reporter an exclusive. As long as you make sure you have some control over what gets printed."

Harry and Parvati looked at each other. "Are reporters allowed to do that?" he asked.

Cyrus chuckled. "Maybe not in the Muggle world, son. But here, anything goes."

Parvati looked intently at Cyrus. "Could we get a better picture of me in the papers? That one in the Daily Prophet, with this horrible bandage on my face," she sniffed. "I look like a hag after a brawl."

Shane laughed and Cyrus nodded.

"But who would do this?" Harry asked, wide-eyed.

Cyrus smiled. "There's no one better than Rita Skeeter."