The Rise of Chaos

Chapter Two: Crippled

Big oak doors, like the ones at the Entrance Hall at Hogwarts, loomed directly in front of me. The wood was carved with precise detail; a demon eating a women, a child being raped on the left door; and on the right was a pentagram, the sign of good stolen to become the sign of evil. It's dark lines shined with blood -- I shivered with fear.

The stone floor was dusty, as if no one had stirred its layers for centuries. I breathed in the musky scent, the air stale and humid from being incased wherever this was. I knew the moment I was in front of this door, that it was a Dream or a Vision from my scar.

My scar.

With a quick whip of my elbow I reached for my burning scar. I didn't notice the pain until I felt for it, now it throbbed with a vengeance. I closed my eyes, trying to shut out the pain like The Discipline of an Auror had taught me. Fighting with the pain I pushed it away -- inch by bloody inch -- and it receded to a point where I barely felt it. Good. But I was wary now, now that the pain no longer clouded my dream hazy mind.

Voldemort was near.

Voices were heard from beyond the oak doors in the Hall of Torment, Voldemort's layer. I frowned, how did I know that? How did I know the name of the Hall? I shook my head from the mist that filled my mind, the mist that was induced because it was a dream.

I would research it later.

With caution I stretched my hand out for the doors that separated me from Voldemort. Hand outstretched I reached for the doors, and with a gasp I saw my hand go through the door, as if I were a ghost! But that was impossible! I looked at my hands, they looked solid -- carefully, I brought my two hands together. They even felt solid!

It was then, the moment a realization hit me; I realized that I had not felt myself step to the door when I reached for it. I looked at my feet -- they were dangling half a foot off the floor.

My eyes widened.

No, no, I'll think about it later, I told myself firmly, right now I needed to get to Voldemort and his meeting!

Once again I reached for the door, and shuddered slightly as my ghost-like form went through the oak doors -- the rest of my body passed through quickly, as I tried to get the hang of flying through the air. With my mind controlling my speed, I looked in awe at the Hall of Torment.

The Hall of Torment was created by Morgana le Fay in her rise to power during the time of King Arthur and his Arch Mage and Chief Advisor Merlin. The Hall was part of the Castle of Nightmare. The castle was passed down generation by generation to the most powerful Dark Lords and Ladies of the age. Grindelwald was its last owner and keeper, before Tom Marvolo Riddle took the Key from his master. Tom was Grindelwald's apprentice during World War II, though only for a few months before his downfall, before he later became known as Voldemort.

The Key was essential when claiming ownership of the Nightmare Castle, the Nightmare was created by the most brilliant Dark Lady of all time, you know! It wouldn't simply be open to whomever killed its last owner. The Key was anything its owner wanted it to be, which was why it was so hard to steal from its owner. From a plant to an animal, from a car to a train, there was no limit to its power.

When the Key was held, the castle itself would protect the master as best it could, and listen to the command of its owner and keeper. The Castle of Nightmare was the stronghold of Voldemort since his first rise to power before I stopped him as a baby at Godric's Hollow.

I froze at the thoughts. How the bloody hell was I suppose to know that?!

And yet, as those memories came to me, I felt as if a part of me was returning, as if I was remembering something that I had completely forgotten about. Madness!

"Master! You are truly the most powerful! You are the victorious one!" cheered a voice that struck me out of my confused thoughts. My eyes nearly fell out of my sockets, as the sight in front of me blew my mind away.

The Hall was three or four times larger than the Great Hall in Hogwarts, the walls were also engraved with all sorts of evils, and the ceiling was enchanted to look dreary and dark as I imagined were Voldemort's favorite emotions. There was very little lighting in the Hall; it left shadows everywhere that emphasized the evil presence that was in the room. At the far side of the Hall, opposite the door, was a platform with steps that led up to it. On the platform -- nearly seven feet across and five feet wide, and raised ten feet from the ground -- was a magnificent throne.

The throne was made of emerald gems and silver, the wood was of mahogany, lined with various other stones and gems equally rare as the emerald. I was awed at the throne placed on the platform, awed at the beauty of it all. But the one on the throne made me snap out of my awed daze. The one with crimson eyes that looked at the Death Eaters, nearly two or three hundred of them all drinking and celebrating a victory with obvious delight, as he too drank from an expensive looking goblet filled with what looked like red wine.

At least, I hoped it was red wine.

Hold on! Two to three hundred?! I looked around again, counting as many as I could, and came up with twelve groups of approxametly twenty people each huddled around the floor near the throne, with a large group that had three or four times the individual smaller groups, all directly in the center of the masses. How the hell did he get so many followers so quickly?! Right, I told myself again, think on that later, more important matters now.

Shrouded within his dark cloak, with his hood raised to cover his snake-like face, I shivered as I glared into the hood that shadowed his hideous face from sight. Though dark was the lighting of the Hall, I still could see those red eyes that peered over the rim of his goblet. A glint of madness, a shimmer of triumph, and shrouded in an aura of power, the man sat with comfort as his servants, his slaves, celebrated this... victory of theirs.

He was truly evil, I knew it when I first learned of him, and I still know it now. The man, the one who made my life so miserable, the one I had to kill was also the only one I feared with a terror never caused by anything else in this world.

Yes, I was terrified of him.

In his dark shrouded form, with his black projection of evil, I couldn't help but doubt the chance of my victory over him in a battle. His knowledge outstripped my own, his experience made me look like a baby compared to him, and his power compared to mine was like comparing a mountain to an anthill .

I couldn't help but shiver.

I was terrified.

Terrified.

I froze as his gaze swept across me, I knew that he couldn't see me, because if he could see me then others would, and they would have done something -- at least, that's what I hoped. Goosebumps swept my body as that gaze, that ever-terrifying gaze rested on mine -- like a rabbit frozen in the face of a predatory bird, so too did I freeze.

He could see me.

My mind panicked, I tried to force it away, but it was a useless effort. I panicked. My mind went numb; I was limp from shock, my scar burst into an excruciating pain.

I was going to die.

The man on the throne -- Voldemort, Tom Marvolo Riddle, the Dark Lord -- rose slowly. Silence swept through the crowds as they awaited their master's instructions. Like faithful dogs they waited for their master's call, like faithful dogs they looked in awe at the majestic presence of Lord Voldemort.

"We have won a great victory over the Light. The fool Dumbledore has been severely wounded," my eyes widened with that statement, "and the Order of the Phoenix has been crippled."

What did he mean? I didn't know what was happening. I tried to remember the last thing that happened to me before I fell asleep. Blank. Frightened I tried once more. Nothing.

I remembered nothing!

Who was I?

"Return to your homes, rest for a while, the war is beginning. You are dismissed, leave now!" The man was congratulating his followers, yet his voice was like a whip, cold iron was hidden in that voice.

With many cracks and pops all around, the Death Eaters Disapparated home, all the while I was in panic at the situation.

Who was Dumbledore again?

Why was I afraid of this man, again?

"Potter... I did not expect to see you here. I must admit, it has been a while since you cursed me with your presence," I flinched from the words, as if those words slapped me in the face. So cold, so evil.

Yes, Potter. That was my name. I was a Potter. Potter.

That comforted me... a little.

"What? Cat got your tongue, Potter? Frightened for your Dumbledore?" drawled the voice of the man I hated.

Why did I hate him?

I forgot.

"Oh, yes.... Where are my manners? Sit, Potter, sit. We shall have to discuss how you will be killed."

Killed? Ah, yes... he wanted to kill me. That was why I was afraid.

Why did he want to kill me?

Enough!

Get away!

This man was going to kill me, though I had no idea why, but if he were going to kill me, I would not just stand here and let him do it. Run!

I floated as quickly as I could, flying to the oak doors.

A laugh followed me. "Really, Potter. I'm hurt, truly! Is my hospitality that bad?"

The doors were in front of me, I needed to get away -- suddenly I felt pain in my face, as I rammed into the doors that refused to allow me through. I was stunned. With a grim feeling rising in my stomach, I turned slowly to Voldemort.

Yes, I remembered now... this man was Voldemort.

"Surprised, Potter? You shouldn't underestimate me, many people have died doing that, many people with a lot more experience and power than you," he spoke as if I were a child, his finger telling me, 'notty, notty!' I felt like a fool infront of him. I was so terrified.

Light! I was acting like a child who was afraid enough to wet himself!.

How old was I anyway? Was I still a child? I didn't remember.

I shuddered as Voldemort slowly glided to me, his black robes swirling impressively. I wanted to get away, but knew I couldn't.

"You can't hurt me," those words burst out of me, "you can't even touch me!" I suddenly felt better. Yes, this was a dream; he would not be able to hurt me. Right?

Right?!

That cold laugh again. "Really Potter? Do you believe that I can't touch you, that I can't... hurt you?"

He was directly in front of me now. With pure will I remained floating, standing straight and glaring into his eyes, though inside I felt like running -- flying -- into the darkest corner and cowering in fear.

I nodded slightly to his questions.

The cold laugh. "Potter, you have much to learn, yes, much to learn. Here, in this place, Potter, I can hurt anyone I choose."

With the agility of a cat, Voldemort's hand whipped up, his fingers reached my cheeks and with his sharp claw-like nails he dug into my flesh. My flesh smoked, my face red with pain, my scar exploded with Cruciatus-like torture. Black spots filled my gaze, my body convulsed from pain. Oh, so much pain.

I screamed as the darkness enveloped me.

---

Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Thump, thump.

I listened to the steady beat of my heart, I was breathing quite hard. The dream, still fresh in my mind, gave me shudders. My clothes were soaked in sweat; my hands were clenching the bed with a death grip. I slowly relaxed my muscles one by one. It wouldn't do to have cramps in the morning.

I listened to the world outside, my breathing once more restored. Nothing. Good.

Carefully I pealed my eyes open, and white walls and a white roof struck my sight: The Hospital Wing at Hogwarts. I sighed at the familiar sight as I reached for my glasses at the bedside table. I relaxed fully at the scene, I was quite a regular visitor to this place, and it was like a second home to me at Hogwarts.

I froze.

Hogwarts.

Why was I at Hogwarts?

Memories swirled around me as I remembered. Summer. Privet Drive. The Dursleys. The Training. My birthday. The Order. Flying back to Grimmauld Place. The attack from Death Eaters. The conjuring of the fog. The victory of the Order at the plains. The Portkey. The white void. Nothing.

The Dream. The Castle of Nightmare. The Hall of Torment. Remembering and knowing things I shouldn't. The victory party of the Death Eaters. The platform. The throne. Voldemort.

I cursed as my blood began to boil.

The speech from Voldemort. My remembering nothing. Hitting the solid door. Voldemort's taunting. Voldemort's claws digging into my cheek.

My cheek.

I suddenly felt the pain, the white-hot pain that erupted form both the scratch on my cheek as well as the scar on my forehead. I hissed in pain as I tried to quell it with my training from The Discipline of an Auror. It took longer than it had in the Dream; my mind was weak from the Dream and my body tired still from the exhaustion of the battle, both physical and magical.

I glanced at the bedside table, and saw my wand and my clothes folded neatly -- the clothes I wore now were from the Hospital Wing. I was in a bed at the far corner; my curtain was drawn, allowing me to see the rest of the Wing.

There were a dozen beds in the Wing, all of which were filled. I saw red hair in the bed opposite mine -- a Weasley, I thought -- beside me was Hermione, I saw Ron sleeping on the next bed. The Twins were next to Ginny, they looked white and drawn, their faces looked haunted. Light! What was that white void? I saw other patients, all too large to be Hogwarts students, filling the rest.

I got up slowly; I needed to look in a mirror at my cheek to see how bad it was. I knew a few healing spells from the Auror book. With weak arms and legs I got onto my feet as I unsteadily made my way to the bathroom, my wand in hand illuminating the way. My bare feet didn't make a sound on the warm carpet floor; I quickly neared my destination as I looked around at the other patients to see if I recognized anyone.

I froze.

I stifled a gasp of shock at the patient nearest the bathroom.

It was Albus Dumbledore.

"The fool Dumbledore has been severely wounded...." Voldemort's voice rang in my ear. I shook my head in confusion, a welling sense of despair trying to overwhelm me.

What the bloody hell was happening?!

Sighing, I looked in the mirror; the candles in the bathroom were lit from a wave of my hand. I locked the door of the bathroom for privacy. Across my cheek were five scratch marks, all the cuts were clogged -- the flesh around the marks were an angry red, it still stung a little even when I was layered under the training exercises in The Discipline of an Auror that forced the pain and the weariness to recede.

I groaned at the mirror as I looked at the scratches. It would leave scars even when healed. Life was never easy, I sighed as I carefully washed away the dried blood. With mutterings of curses (the muggle kind) from the stinging, I carefully washed my cheek with soap, my face felt as if it were on fire.

With another groan of pain, I cast healing spells that rid me of my pain and of the scratches, leaving behind only the faintest of scras. Oh well... at least I could hide them with Glamour Charms like I hid the cuts on my arms.

"Tempus," I whispered, as the knowledge of the time entered my mind. 6:32 AM, Friday, August 2, 1996. Great, I was unconscious for nearly two days. Just great!

I decided to take a shower before visiting the kitchen. I was incredibly hungry from the lack of food. With a simple summoning charm I summoned my clothes to the bathroom where I took out my shrunken trunk from my pocket. I enlarged it to its original size, and took out a few transfigured clothes.

I sighed; I really needed to get a new wardrobe.

Clunk!

Frowning, I looked inside my old clothes; I felt something hard. With an even larger frown I fumbled for whatever it was, and as I took it out I remembered.

It was a glass jar with a bug.

Not just a bug, but Lucius Malfoy, High Seat of the Malfoy Family, Master of the Malfoy Estates, once-Ministry worker, he was an escapee from the infamous wizard prison Azkaban.

I needed to ask someone about that as well.

I sighed once again, so many questions, so many things to do and with so little time.

I lifted the jar to my eyes, and looked into the eyes of the bug that lay on the bottom of the glass jar. "Having fun, Lucius? Hungry? Maybe I should get you something to eat. I wonder what flies eat? Maybe a rotten banana peal?"

I laughed as the sleeping fly buzzed into the air, and I felt the weight of the fly's glare sent in my direction. It felt good to laugh.

Setting the jar in my trunk, I looked at the bathtub on the other side of the room. It was half the size of the one in the Prefect's bathroom, but it was more than large enough for me to take a nice long bath. I really needed to relax my aching muscles.

Well, I told myself, at least Voldemort didn't cast any Cruciatus Curses. The after effects of the Cruciatus Curse was terrible, aching joints and muscles, white drained face, eye bags and weariness all through the day. I sighed; it had been a while since I've had a Dream.

At the Dursleys I always protected my dreams from Legilimency and the scar induced dreams with my Occlumency training, but the white void, whatever that was, had rendered me unconscious before I could set myself.

What was that white... void?!

I turned on the faucets, nearly three dozen in all -- it was quite amusing to think that they had different scents each, I didn't think there could be that many! I wanted a bubble bath with a nice flowery scent. After several tries of choosing the right faucet, I managed to get the right combination and waited for the bath to fill up.

Why did I not remember myself in the Dream? In the beginning I was in full control of my memories, yet after a time I seemed to remember less and less. Now when I am conscious I remember everything to the precise detail, something I hadn't managed to do last year. Oh well, I could credit it to all to the extra mind focusing techniques I mastered over the summer.

I stripped myself of my clothes as I stepped into the bathtub. I sighed as the hot water started to work its magic into my muscles, soothing them down. I wondered briefly if the water was magicked to have that effect. I smiled, I really didn't care, if it was, well then I'm not complaining, and if it wasn't, well, I'm still not complaining!

My thoughts turned inward as I brooded. Why did I suddenly get the feeling of remembering something I had forgotten? Where did I get all that knowledge about the Castle of Night and the Hall of Torment? Where did I get the knowledge of the Key to access the Castle's magic? I strained through the first moment in my life that I could remember to the present, combing through memory after memory to see if I had read about it somewhere, or else searching for a time when my memory left gaps where I'd know that someone had Obliviated me.

None.

The knowledge was not mine. Then whose? I sighed. Questions just seemed to lead to more questions. I started to scrub myself, lightly on my arms where the cuts were, as well as my left cheek. Though I had healed them both, they was still a bit tender.

Then whose?

The question is once again asked. Whose, indeed? There could be only one person who knew that information. Well, maybe two. One was Voldemort; after all, it had to do with him. The other, though I wasn't too sure, was Dumbledore. Yet, I wondered, was it possible that their memories came to me?

Could it be that the link between Voldemort and I could have grown all the more stronger? After all, was it not Dumbledore who said the link would become stronger when either one of us was stronger? But then again, maybe they weren't Voldemort's memories; maybe we aren't sharing our memory banks. But if then, does that mean that it is Dumbledore and I that are sharing memories? Or is it Dumbledore who accidentally gave me his memories? Maybe it was the white void that did something to me? Maybe it scrambled my head into remembering things that no one should know?

Maybe.

I growled deep in my throat. I was starting to hate that word. Maybe.

With a start I realized that the bubbles, once nearly two feet thick, were now all but gone, I had been here for quite a while. An hour, I thought. The once-hot water was now cool, as I got out of the tub. I dried myself slowly; my mind was still racing with thoughts.

Light, what was that place we were trapped in? That white void?

"...We have won a great victory..." said Voldemort in my Dream, so that meant that the battle at the plains in the middle of the ride from Privet Drive to Grimmauld Place was not it. The Death Eaters had lost... right? Or maybe they attacked the Order with reinforcements and then managed to win. But then why was I in Hogwarts? Was it because of Madam Pomfrey? I didn't see Mrs. Weasley on the hospital beds, which meant she was safe. Knowing her, I was sure that Mrs. Weasley would try to keep her children and me at Grimmauld Place.

I sighed as I tugged my clothes on. I really needed to get a new wardrobe.

Merlin! What was that white void?!

I rummaged through my trunk until I found a comb. I grimaced at the mess I had made in my trunk. With my wand in hand I reorganized the trunk within seconds. Now I knew why Hermione like being organized so much. I grinned, poor Ronniekins would have no one to play with if I continued on my road to becoming the next Hermione.

How would Ron react to that?

With a few wards and a locking spell, I rewove the shields around the trunk. With a wave I had it shrunk back to the size a little bigger than two matchboxes, and weightless, besides. I thanked Merlin for Layering Spells -- they were too useful.

I looked once more into the mirror. My scar was there as usual -- on my forehead. On my left cheek were five other scars, the skin turned white. With a grimace I cast a few charms to hide the scars on my cheek, tying it to my skin so that it would stay in place, then like I did with the fog, I tied the spell to myself. I repeated the process to my arms where I had cut myself during the time of my depression.

I sighed, those scars would never disappear -- I grimaced, just like the Dark Mark. I almost felt sorry for Snape. Severus Snape, once a Death Eater, he was now a spy for the Order of the Phoenix. But, nevertheless, he still bore the Dark Mark on the inside of his left forearm, just before the elbow. Well, the keyword was almost, I still hated the bastard.

I opened the bathroom door as I motioned with my wand to douse the candles.

"... taking him so long? It's been nearly an hour and a half! Not even you take that long a time!"

Thwack!

"Ouch! Hey... I was just kidding... seriously!"

"Ha, right! I believe you... truly. But you know, that kid really is taking quite a long time in that bathroom. Do you think he fell asleep?"

"Maybe you should go check?"

"Maybe I'm a girl so I can't check!"

"Really? You're a girl? I thought you were an African Chimp!"

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

"If you two don't stop behaving like children I'll send you both out of the Wing."

I smiled as I looked at the scene before me. Remus and Tonks were the ones who had been talking, with Tonks occasionally hitting Remus for a sarcastic remark. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley was also in that area, they watched with amusement at the two of them, their eyebrows raised and their lips twitching. Moody sat on a stool by my bed; he was the one who had growled at the two of them, threatening to send them away like children.

I nearly laughed, but restrained myself, other patients may be disturbed if I did. But it was a close call.

"I'm done. And I do not take as long as Tonks! Remember last year when Tonks took nearly the whole morning -- three hours! -- in the bathroom?"

I was walking to my bed, my hair somewhat in control, my face composed, hiding my true amused emotions. It was a skill taught in The Discipline of an Auror. Quite a useful skill as well, helps a lot when lying. I grinned at them, though I didn't feel like it -- but to them it would look like a genuine grin.

"Harry, how are you feeling, dear? Are you sure you don't need to rest more?" ever the mother, Mrs. Weasley immediately jumped to help me, as if I were seriously injured and just woke from a coma.

Well, in a way I guess I sort of did -- if you could count two days sleeping a coma. Well... then again... maybe not!

"That was because this idiot over here poured ink all over my hair and face... for fun!" cried Tonks indignantly, as Remus stifled a chuckle. Thwack. Tonks hit him once more, "It is not funny Remus! It took me three hours -- as Harry has so kindly put it -- to get rid of all of that magical never-erasing ink!"

I nearly laughed at the situation, but once more swallowed it, though it was still a temptation. Instead I smiled at Mrs. Weasley before answering.

"I'm fine Mrs. Weasley, really! I'm just a little hungry. I was hoping to go down to the kitchen and get a bite to eat."

"Oh, dear, are you sure you want to go all the way to the kitchen? I'm sure Remus or Tonks will be happy to get it for you."

I smiled at her reassuringly, "Really, it's quite alright." I eyed Remus, Tonks, and Moody for a second -- measuring them. Well, if I couldn't get answers from Dumbledore, I could at least interrogate them for answers. "But maybe Remus, Tonks, and Moody would like to accompany me. I'm sure you want to stay here and wait to see if the rest of them wake up."

Well, that was one reason I wanted her to stay here, but if she was the same as last year, and I'm sure she was, then she would not like me learning anything about the war. Touching, really, I felt warmed and glad from her wanting to protect me, but I needed answers. And I needed them now!

"Oh, of course, hun, I'm sure they would accompany you, right?" She looked at them questioningly, but went on before they could answer, "But make sure you eat a lot. Really, Harry, you're much too thin!"

I laughed, not unkindly, and promised to eat as much as I could. And I would, indeed -- interrogating them would take some time, and the only excuse for that time would be that they waited for me to finish. And to back that up I would need to eat a lot. Sigh, life was never easy.

I said a quick good-bye to the Weasleys, before I made my way down to the kitchens. Moody, ever the loner, stood back a few paces, keeping to the shadows, his eye was rolling and twisting with surprising speed. I wondered if he would ever get dizzy. Remus and Tonks were talking to me about pranks and such, school work, what they did over the summer, but I only listened with half and ear -- making occasional grunts and noises.

The Discipline of an Auror had once said, 'Everyone likes someone to listen to them. Use this to your advantage!' Well, I really didn't feel like talking -- except about the recent events which I couldn't talk about anyway, not here in the open -- so I let Remus and Tonks talk away so that they would not make me talk and accidentally reveal too much.

No, don't get me wrong on this. I trust them both, and Moody as well, I trust them fully. But when there's a Dark Lord after you, and you are number one on his hit list, you could never trust anyone. Look at Peter, he was trusted and that trust blew up in everyone's faces. Better not to trust.

And yet, there was another reason for my guarded tongue to everyone. The Discipline of an Auror said, 'Trust is a sickly thing. Trust hurts more than it does any good. When you trust a wrong person, it will end up in your face. If you trust the right person, well, your enemy will get their hands on them, and it will end up in your face once more. Don't trust!' Yes, trust hurt far more than it does any good. Even though I trusted those three fully I still could not tell them anything because that would make them a target in the eyes of Voldemort.

No, I could not afford to trust anyone... not even myself!

Life was never easy.

But sometimes the book contradicted itself, more than once. It quoted in another part of the book, 'No one can live without trust.' I grinned inwardly. Oh well, maybe I'll understand when I grow up. I nearly laughed at that, I always did hate it when Dumbledore or someone else told me that. Ah, good old days.

Lost in my thoughts I didn't realize we were near the kitchen until the portrait entrance to the kitchen was right before my eyes. I blinked in surprise, but that was the only emotion that I showed. My face was a serene mask that leaked no emotions. I was quite proud of my mask. Serenity was hard earned with someone of my emotions.

I reached out, and gently tickled the pear in the fruit bowl in the portrait, triggering the lock mechanism to open. With a fury of squeaks, the House Elves crowded around the humans with looks of pure joy.

Sickened, I struggled to hide the emotions that burst within me. It was disgusting how House Elves just threw themselves to humans with no thought of their own. They were brain washed into believing that they were inferior to the human race. No one was inferior if they had the capability to reason!

With massive effort I controlled my face to keep it's mask. Good. I nearly sighed before I stopped myself. It would all be wasted effort if I sighed. That would show weakness. I was tired of all this disillusionment, all these lies that were set. I was trying to play into a war with enemies ten, fifteen times more powerful and skilled then I -- but I was patient, I would persevere. I had vowed to kill Voldemort... remember?

"Mr. Harry Potter, sir! Harry Potter, sir! I is hearing of the attack. Dobby is very sad Mr. Potter, sir, got hurt."

Ah, I smiled at Dobby. Dobby was the very first House Elf I had met in my life. A one-time servant of the Malfoy family, a true friend, Dobby was quite loyal to "brave and mighty Mr. Harry Potter, sir!" He had tried to 'save' my life in my second year; which resulted in me being trapped outside the barrier between Kings Cross and Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Not wanting to be late to Hogwarts, Ron and I had 'borrowed' Mr. Weasley's car to get to Hogwarts. I almost shuddered. It was not a nice memory.

Then another time it was when Dobby had enchanted a bludger to go rogue, targeting me the whole Quidditch game until I had broken my arm when it finally hit me. Later I had lost all the bones in my arm by an incompetent Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor and had to regrow them all in one night -- painfully.

But Dobby had done a few deeds that were actually quite helpful -- okay, very helpful. In the end of my second year, he clued me into realizing that the whole journal-to-Weasley-So-It-Could-Open-the-Chamber plan was Lucius Malfoy's. I had freed Dobby then -- a House Elf is freed when given clothes from their master -- well, I actually tricked Malfoy into it, but the end result was all the same. Dobby was free.

In my fourth year Dobby had come to Hogwarts to work, and helped me out on my Second Task, where he had stolen the ingrediant gillyweed -- a weed that if swallowed allowed that person to breath underwater and also gave then webbed hands and feet -- so that I could save Ron who was trapped under the lake. In my fifth year he had provided the right room for me to train the DA, in the Room of Requirement.

Yes, Dobby was quite a friend, loyal and true. Not like Kreacher, I thought darkly. I would kill that House Elf if it were the last thing I did. Yes, I would.

"I'm fine Dobby, just a little bit hungry. Could you and your friends clear a spot for us to eat breakfast? If you don't have anything else to do, of course," I continued to smile at Dobby.

"Of course, Harry Potter, sir! Come here, come here, follow Dobby!" Dobby grabbed me by the hand, and pulled me along as I stooped to try to keep my hand low enough for Dobby to reach. I had grown quite bit over the summer, in only one month! A very nice growth spurt!

Dobby led us to a far corner of the busy kitchen. House Elves were frantically trying to clear room for them and at the same time set up a scrumptious breakfast that consisted of bacon strips, scrambled eggs, toast, jam, and a large goblet of pumpkin juice.

I smiled as I sat down on a cushioned seat next to the table before I helped myself with this and that. Tonks and Remus were also piling their own plates with an enormous amount of food. Remus, I grinned inwardly, his wolf stomach must be really big! As for Tonks, well, she seemed to be a little like Ron, and me knowing Ron, would pile his plate as high as Mount Everest. Well... maybe not that high -- but near enough...!

Moody, however sat in the corner where the shadows were greatest. Positioned as he was, he could easily view the portrait gateway to the kitchen. Ever the paranoid one, Moody! With a flask of his own pumpkin juice that he made himself -- he didn't trust anyone else's -- he too helped himself, but not before sniffing it like a dog, as if he could sniff out poison. Oh well, I thought, old habits are hard to break.

With great carefulness, I asked the questions that were burning in my mind. However, I needed to be cautious, I couldn't make it sound like I was too anxious, otherwise Remus or Tonks might try to hold out on me, "So, what exactly happened? I don't remember much after the fight at the plains."

Smooth and calm, good. I waited, but in a graceful way of chewing my food and swallowing, slowly, to show that I wasn't really expecting them to answer -- just trying to make a good conversation. At least, that's what I hoped it looked like.

Moody chewed his bacon loudly, hardly closing his mouth as he did so.

He swallowed a gulp of pumpkin juice from his flask.

Remus and Tonks looked uncertainly at each other, before looking at Moody as if asking him for permission. I controlled my face, but inwardly I was quite puzzled. Why were they looking at Moody for permission? I would need to find that out later. Moody nodded, Remus and Tonks looked at each other again, as if asking silently who would begin.

It was Remus who answered my question, "After you Portkeyed away, the Aurors among the Order decided to bring the captured Death Eaters directly to the Ministry. The rest of us, nearly forty other members, all Apparated just outside the wards placed around Grimmauld Place."

Tonks continued, "However, when we arrived, we saw the house -- the whole village -- burning with hundreds of Death Eaters waiting for us." Tonks took a deep shuddering breath, "They were waiting for us. The attack on the plains was a way to track me back to Grimmauld Place. They knew that we would send someone back to headquarters, and a few Death Eaters discreetly followed me." Tonks blushed, lowering her head in shame. Remus quickly put his arms around her. Remus and Tonks? I very nearly shook my head at that thought. Well, I looked at them together -- they did go well together. I smiled -- yes; they would be perfect for each other.

Moody added his part, growling, "There were many, many wards placed around Grimmauld Place -- enough that the Death Eaters couldn't pinpoint the exact location. However, they followed Nymphadora far enough before getting lost that all Voldemort had to do was overpower the wards."

I chewed methodically as I processed the information. So, that was what Voldemort meant when he said he had crippled the Order. But, just because Headquarters was destroyed, it didn't mean the Order couldn't operate anymore, right?

I shook my head to clear it of its pessimistic thoughts. I waited for someone to continue. The uneasy silence continued. My brow furrowed, why didn't they continue? Stop! I smoothed my face of emotions and put on the mask of serenity, before I asked, "So, where were we? -- Ginny, Hermione, Ron, the Twins, and I? I mean, if we were Portkeying there, wouldn't we have landed in the middle of the Death Eaters?"

Great Merlin's beard, what was that white void?!

I remembered nothing after the white void. Was it possible that I -- we -- ended up in the middle of a battle? No, it's not possible unless I fainted before arriving at that point. But, what was that place we were at? that place that squeezed the breath from me? that made me feel so helpless? I pulled myself together to listen to Tonks' reply.

"Immediately Dumbledore realized his mistake, the Portkey would take you right to Voldemort -- who was obviously waiting for that to happen as well. Dumbledore tried to cast the Farinose Net Charm to catch you, but Voldemort -- seeing Dumbledore cast that spell -- immediately retaliated with his own. In the end, it was a battle of will between the two, while the rest of us were trying to keep Dumbledore safe."

Remus shook his head sadly, "I'm afraid the battle of will between those two hurt Dumbledore severely, if it wasn't for Fawkes, I'm positive Dumbledore would have lost." Remus looked defeated with that thought. Of course, I reminded myself, that knowledge could crush anyone. Everyone relied on Dumbledore as the weight that balanced the scale between the Light and Dark. If they saw Dumbledore losing to Voldemort, everyone would have lost hope.

Hope.

I knew what it felt like to lose hope. Didn't I lose hope after Sirius' death? Wasn't I falling into depression because I had lost hope? Yes, I definitely knew the feeling. I shuddered inwardly; it wasn't very pleasant -- losing hope, I mean.

I frowned as I processed what Remus had said. So, that must have been it, Dumbledore conjured a net -- the Farinose Net, whatever that was -- to catch us, however, Voldemort tried to counter and make us stay. That must be why I felt like I was being squeezed together, one force -- Dumbledore -- wanted to get me away, the other force -- Voldemort -- wanted me to stay. But, what did Fawkes do to help Dumbledore? I voiced my question to the rest of them.

A growling answer, "Dumbledore and Fawkes managed to Pool their powers, and with the Pooled Powers they were able to get you six away from Voldemort. However, the strain was still too great -- Dumbledore collapsed right after he Apparated back to Hogwarts." Moody grimly shook his head, "He's been out ever since." He squinted at me with his regular eye, "Actually, you're the first of the injured to actually wake from the battle."

What did he mean 'Pool' their powers? Moody had definitely put a capital there, on that word -- so why? I didn't read about Pooling Powers in The Discipline of an Auror. "What do you mean, they Pooled their powers? What is Pooling?"

Remus and Tonks looked just as clueless as I did. They were both looking attentively in Moody's direction. "Pooling Powers is not an easy task. When two people -- or beings, I should say -- Pool their powers, they combine the magic they each have, and end up actually multiplying it a small amount, which results in strengthening spells and such."

"Why wasn't I taught it when I trained to be an Auror?" demanded Tonks.

"Why, Nymphadora?" Tonks grimaced, but said nothing. She hated being called 'Nymphadora' -- even if it was her first name. "Because Pooling Powers cannot be done unless you are a scholar in the studies of Core Magic. And no, don't ask me about Core Magic, I'm not a scholar of Core Magic; there are only a few Masters of Core Magic in existence today. I'm not one of them."

Well, obviously Dumbledore was a Master of Core Magic. What was Core Magic? I needed to visit the library. I had too many things to research for -- I sighed inwardly, life was never easy. However, Pooling Powers sounded ingenious! I really needed to research that, it would be fantastic to be able to Pool with, let's say, Dumbledore and I. Together, I was sure we could take out Voldemort. I was excited.

So, that answered the questions of: Why did Voldemort say he severely hurt Dumbledore? What was that white void? What was Pooling Powers? But it didn't answer the question 'Why did Voldemort say he crippled the Order?'

I mean; if he had only destroyed the house, then it wouldn't have crippled the Order, just a minor set back. Unless...

"Was anyone killed or captured?"

Silence. Everyone froze at my question. I studied them, trying to read their emotions, trying to see if I hit the right target. Tonks and Remus both looked terribly sad. Apparently I had.

Moody rumbled, "Forty members Apparated back to Grimmauld Place. Thirteen were captured or are missing, sixteen are known to be dead, fifteen are severely wounded - only six made it out with only a few bruises and scratches. The Order was hit severely. Excluding those injured or worse, we only have around fifteen Order members left. We are... crippled, you might say."

Impossible! I nearly yelled, but at the same time I knew Moody spoke for truth. Nearly thirty -- thirty! -- members were killed or worse. My head dropped, nearly thirty families were ruined from one battle. I felt so terrible, so sad. I felt like crying, how terrible could someone be? How could anyone be so cruel? How could....

Voldemort, my mind whispered in anger -- terrible anger. Voldemort, you will pay. Do you hear me? You will pay for everything! All your crimes I will someday lay down at your feet and call you to account. Oneday...

Tears leaked out from the corners of Tonk's eyes, as she stuttered, "It-It's all m-my fault! If only-only I ha-had been m-more care-careful!"

Remus hugged Tonks as she cried on his shoulders. He whispered words of encouragements and words of comfort too low for me to hear. I controlled my face, trying to look calm, but I knew that naked pain showed on my face, just like guilt painted Tonks' face; she blamed herself for what had happened.

I couldn't help but feel as terrible as she probably felt at the moment -- the Order of the Phoenix was crippled.

I knew that the Order could be restored with time, with time everything could return to the way it was... but at the moment? At the moment, thirty members were dead or worse.

The Order of the Phoenix was crippled.

The Order was crippled.

Crippled.

...crippled....

Tonks cried.

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To be continued...

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