Harry Potter and the Gaia Spring

                 Harry Potter and the Gaia Spring

                        Chapter 5

                     Forboding Dreams

    Stanley's eyes went wide when he saw the scene before him. "Merlin's beard, you're all a mess!"

    Harry looked back to see Hermione, who had collapsed in the street, sobbing. Summer was standing next to her, patting her shoulder.

    Harry was about to explain when Stanley said loudly, "False stop! Messed a post box though. Gimme a tick t' fix it."

    Motioning for them to be quiet, Stan hurried over to them. Harry heard him take a sharp breath when he came around the post box, and got a good look at Harry.

    "Looks like we did a number on this one, Ern!" he yelled, then turned to Harry and spoke in a softer voice, nearly a whisper, "Blimey, you're a right tangle if ever I saw one. Hope ya gave as good as ya got. Can ya stand?"

    Harry tried to stand again, but his right arm still wouldn't work. Eventually, with help from Stan, he managed to his feet.

    "We'll have you right set up in a jiff, but until then, don't make a sound. I'll explain on the bus. Now let me fix this 'ere post box."

    Harry looked behind him and saw a huge dent in the box, presumably from him hitting it. No wonder he felt as if a train had run over him. Stan waved his wand and, with a loud clang, the dent popped back out.

    Silently, he lead them back to the bus. "Is the coast clear?" Stan asked Earn.

    "Yeah, 'salright now. But that Cindy McMaima comes down to check every stop. She just went back up. She's up t' somethin', I wager."

    Stan nodded, then ushered them in. Harry was surprised. The bus had been remodeled, so that the first deck was a cafe. Numerous cracked glasses and chipped mugs demonstrated the problems with this new setup. Sure enough, the bus gave a loud crack as it started, and another glass fell off the shelf behind the counter. An orange bolt shot out from under a table and wrapped itself around Hermione's legs.

    "Crookshanks!" Hermione squealed.

    "Yeah, 'e 'opped on a couple o' stops ago," Stan said. "Seemed ta know what 'e was doin' so we let 'im ride," he then noticed Harry looking at the bus's new decor. "Business has been good, so we did a bit o' remodeling," he beamed. "Beds're all upstairs now. Now let's have a look at you." He took down a wooden first aid box. He took out a small glass lens and passed it over Harry's body.

    "Hmm, nothin's broken," he said finally. "Just a dislocated shoulder. Don't worry, though. Got an ol' family trick fer takin care of that."

    The "ol' familly trick" turned out to be punching Harry hard in the arm. There was a loud pop, and, although Harry's shoulder hurt even worse than before, he could once again move his arm.

    "Anything else botherin' ya? No? How about you ladies? Nothin? Well, good t'hear. And what's yer name?" The last part was directed at Summer..

    "My name is Summer Scornsby, how do you do?" Summer said in rehearsed tones.

    "Jus' call me Stan. No need t' be so formal. Here, I got somethin' for ya." He handed her a chocolate frog.

    "We're coming to our next stop," Ern called out. "Better hide 'em." And Harry found himself ant the girls being shoved into a broom closet.

    Harry listened carefully, first to the sound of footsteps on the metal stairwell, then to Stan's "Take care, Albert," and then to the door closing and the bus rocketing off again. Harry tried to open the door, but Stan was leaning on it.

    After a moment, Harry heard the echo of metal footsteps again, and Stan let them out.

    "Sorry 'bout that."

    "Could you please tell me what's going on?" Harry said with a considerable effort to keep his voice calm and quiet.

    "Alright, alright, I'll tells ya. But first let's get sum food in ya. Would y'like tea or chocolate?"

    Harry and Summer had chocolate. Hermione opted for some Earl Gray with lemon. They sat down at a table and Stan brought out the drinks, and a plate of ham sandwiches. Harry had missed dinner and started wolfing them down, but Hermione, who was already green from the rickety, bouncing motion of the Knight Bus, politely refused.

    "Alright, here's how things went down. As you know, 'bout a year ago. Dumbledore said that You Know Who was back. Fudge and the Prophet said he was nuts, you too. But looks like Dumbledore was right. Shoulda known he was right. Ern here said so all along. Din'cha?"

    Ern nodded. "Won fitty galleons from bets w' a bunch o' folks."

    "You gambled on the return of Voldemort?!" Hermione exclaimed, causing Stan and Ern to shudder.

    "No," Ern muttered, recovering, "I bet on Dumbledore bein' right. An' a bet on Dumbledore aint a gamble, 's an investment."

    "Anyhow," Stan said, steering them back onto the subject, "shortly after Ern collected 'is winnin's, who gets on the bus but Dumbledore hisself. Naturally, Ern, here offers to split it w' him, but 'e settles fer a drink.

    "So we finish our rounds, an take Dumbledore out fer that drink. Turns out 'e 'ad an offer fer us. Me and Ern are now part o' the Oder o' the Phoenix."

    Harry spit out a large mouthful of hot chocolate. "You're in the Order?" He coughed.

    "Yeah," Stan said, sounding as if he was debating if he should be insulted or not, but went on. "See, 'e 'ad a feelin, you was gonna be in trouble. Bout to step on a swampstorper if ya get m' meanin. So 'e asks us t' drive through Surry as oft'n as we could, w'out bein obvious. Says if we were ta run inta ya, we should take ye where ya needs t'go, an not let anybody know ya was here. That's why we can't let the other passengers see ya. Least we can do fer ya, after all you've done fer the rest o' us."

    Harry was about to thank them when Ern spoke up. "Oi, better scurry on. We're approachin' McMaira's stop."

    Stan rushed Harry and the others into the broom closet again. Once again he heard the sound of somebody descending the metal stairs. After awhile, he heard Stan say, "If'n ya don't mind, miss, we's still got one stop left." There was the distinct sound of the door closing, and then the gunshot noise of the bus zipping off again, and Stan let them out.

    "We still got one passenger. We'll drop 'im off, then take ya wherever's ya wants ta- Ern! I told ya no more joke frogs!"

    Harry turned. Summer had just opened her frog. Unlike a normal chocolate frog, this one had leapt out of her hands and continued to elude her as she chased it around the cafe, Crookshanks right behind her.

    "I've never seen a chocolate frog do that before."

    "That's cuz it's a Chocolate Toad. From a new gag shop. The Wheezing Wizard's Weasel."

    "You mean Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes?"

    "Pretty sure it's Wheezing Wizard's Weasel, but I could be wrong," Stan shrugged. "Anyway, ya open a Toad an' ya work for yer sugar." He pointed at Summer who was now happily chasing the toad around the little kitchen, while Crookshanks perched on the counter, ready to attack.

    Harry, now that he had time to reflect, suddenly realized how exhausted he was. Two near death experiences, a long trek through the dark, and a dislocated shoulder, all without supper. Harry also realized, with a cold, clammy feeling, that both time he had been confronted with death, he had given in, and it was only through the help of others that he was able to shake it off. He wondered if the dry voice was some sort of spell that Voldemort, or maybe Fade, had cast on him, but decided to worry about it later, and instead lazily watched Summer. Hermione, meanwhile, was forcing herself to take small bites of a sandwich, hoping the solid food would settle her stomach. She looked over at Harry, as if wanting to ask him something, but appeared to think better of it, after seeing Harry's exhausted expression.

    Eventually, they had to hide again, as Mr. Edwards was dropped off. Once they were out, however, Harry had a difficult question to answer.

    "Where to?" Ern asked, shutting off the headlights. Harry froze. Where could they go? His first thought was Hogwarts. It was the safest place, of course.

    But would they make it? The Death Eaters had set up their trap around Harry awfully fast, and would know that Harry would try to make it to Hogwarts. By the time they got close, who knows what they would have set up to greet them.

    Last time he had gone to Diagon Alley and got a room in the Leaky Cauldron, but then again, he wasn't being hunted by an army of Death Eaters then. He was sure they could hide there awhile, but they would eventually be discovered. Harry's scar wasn't the easiest thing to hide, and what would they do then?

    Then it hit Harry.

    "Take us to Stoatshead Hill," Harry said, ignoring Hermione's stare. Hermione opened her mouth to ask questions, but Harry gave her a look, and then started asking Stan for information about the wizarding world.

    "It's a right mess, that it is," Stan sighed. "Everybody's panicking, and the ministry's got a job of calming them down, as nobody's trustin' them no more. Heard there are groups tryin' to get Fudge out of office. Anyhow, people are buyin up all the emergency supplies, an buildin up spell bunkers an' safe houses. Ern and me 're busier than ever."

    "Why are you busier?"

    "Lot o' people gettin' all paranoid. Reckon they's got a Death Eater fer a neighbor or offended som'un who might've been one in a bar, and now they wants ta disappear all quiet-like. Well, the floo networks monitored, and it's a might hard to move all their stuff by broom. So they call us ta tow 'em to the other side o' England. 'Course the ministry's tryin' to calm 'em all down with emergency portkeys an' hot lines an' such but-

    "Is it safe for her to eat that?" Hermione asked, indicating the chocolate toad that Summer had now caught. Crookshanks was now watching it with curious eyes, his tail twitching hungrily.

    "What? Oh, yeah. Got anti-dirt spells all o'er it, t' keep it clean. Could pour water on it and not even get it wet."

    Summer took this to be enough and took a big bite out of the toad. She broke off a twitching leg for Crookshanks. The squat faced cat batted it around for a bit before eating it, then hopped into Harry's lap and went to sleep.

    Harry wished he could do the same, but he had to stay vigilant. It wouldn't be much longer.

    Harry was just starting to fall asleep, when the bus gave a particularly loud pop, and pulled to a stop.

    "Alright, here ya are. Though I don't get why you want ta be here."

    "It's probably best that way," Harry said, with grim images of Smirl in his head.

    "Will you tell me what we're doing here?" Hermione asked gesturing wildly. True to their word, Ern had driven up the hill to the very top.

    "I'm pretty sure I remember how to get to the Burrow from here," Harry said absently, trying to think.

    "Why are we going there? Nobody's home!"

    "Exactly. They won't think to look for us there. And we'll be able to keep an ear on events with Mrs. Weasley's radio. Once Mr. Weasley or Ron returns we can figure out what to do then."

    "But why are we out here? Why not go directly to the Burrow." Harry could understand Hermione's impatience. None of them were in prime conditions for a long walk.

    "I didn't want them to know where we were going."

    "You don't- You don't think they're spies, do you?" Hermione asked aghast.

    "No, but neither was Smirl. He was an auror, trained by the Longbottoms, who were the best from what I've heard. And Francis cracked him in hours. What chance would Stan have." When Hermione didn't answer, Harry continued. "Let's go. If we hurry, we can make it before daybreak."

    Travel was easier than Harry had thought it would be, as the sky was already beginning to lighten. The three traveled in silence, which suited Harry, who was focusing all his attention into putting one foot in front of the other. His back ached and his wand arm felt like lead. It briefly crossed his mind that if they encountered any Death Eaters on the way, they were doomed, but he was unable to hold onto the thought, and in another moment, it was gone.

    Suddenly, Crookshanks bounded forward and disappeared over the ridge. A moment later they saw why. As they approached the ridge, the lopsided, tower-like house of the Burrow came into view, as if it were rising from the ground. Crookshanks was already chasing chickens around the yard.

    "Crookshanks, leave the chickens alone," Hermione yawned.

    Crookshanks gave the chicken a longing glance and a final hiss, then sped back to Hermione.

    Together, the four of them approached the door. It was locked. So was the back, the cellar, and all the windows. Not even Hermione's alohamora could open them.

    They were about to give up when Crookshanks found the spare key, buried deep in the chicken coup. While Hermione debated if she should scold or praise Crookshanks, Harry took the key and let them in.

    Hermione began to discuss rooming, but Harry didn't listen. He flopped face first on the couch and was asleep in an instant.

    Harry found himself once again standing in the bizarre stone hallway. There was no sign of the gray-haired knight, nor the hideous beetle. He decided to try to find the knight, both for safety, and to ask questions.

    He took a closer look around him. As before, all that lay before him was blurry and shrouded in mist. What he hadn't noticed before was that the hallway appeared unfinished. The archways were undecorated, with no doors within them, and Harry was pretty sure that, beneath the fog, there was no floor of any kind. Squinting, he could just make out a fork in the hallway, far away, that split into four paths, and continued into the mist.

    He then looked behind him. As before, the hall was sharp and defined with high detail, bout now he could see that there was a hazy blur in certain area's, where the sharp cut walls became rough, and the details smooth and shallow. The archways along this way had doors - large stone ones - with a variety of scenes embossed on them. Strange runes were carved into the tops of the doorways themselves. They ranged in number, some doors having only one, others having hundreds. Like the hall, some were hazy, their images worn and faded.

    Not knowing what else to do, Harry set off down the hall, hoping to find the knight or anybody who could answer his questions.

    Soon he came to a little opening where the hallway met with several others to form a little room, with one hall leading off in the opposite direction. All the other passageways, including the one he had come from were on one side of the room, with a metal door directly across from the lone hall on the opposite side. Like the other doors, the metal one had an embossed image on it, this one highly detailed, with extremely exact lines. Harry had no problems identifying what was depicted: The large chamber in the Department of Mysteries where the veil stood on a dais. He shuddered and moved past it to examine the other passageways. There were two other halls, both of which looked like the one he had emerged from, except both were sealed off with a flawless smooth wall.

    More as an excuse not to open the grimly marked door than anything else, Harry decided that he would see how far the hallway went before he checked any of the doors. turned to go down the opposing hallway, which was the only one left open, aside from the one he had come down.

    As Harry walked down the hall, he noticed the it changed slowly. The haze become more common, as the walls became a bit rough and uneven. The doors were getting a bit more spread out too, and more faded. Some even had cracks in them.

    Several times more he encountered similar little "rooms." All of them had multiple halls on the wall he emerged from, and all of them were blocked off. Each time the only other exit was a lone hall on the opposite wall. The number of hall ways varied from two to four, but there was always a metal door opposite the lone hallway. The first one he encountered had only one passageway, and a picture of a graveyard on the door, but the next one had six halls and a picture of a small house on a hill. The one after that had three halls and a picture of a bathroom. Although the walls and stone doors were getting rougher and lower in detail, the metal doors, and the rooms around them, remained in sharp detail.

    Curiously, the one after that had no other passageways, but instead had a large archway at the beginning of the path. It must have been majestic once, but now it was crumbled and lay in ruins. Harry saw the keystone, lying on the floor, cleanly cracked in two. Just beyond was the metal door, this one depicting a bare room with a window. Still not knowing what to do, Harry continued down the hall.

    The hall was quite a bit different by now. The haze had grown prevalent, and the walls and floors were so rough that it resembled a cavern more than a hall. The doors had become sparse, and faded, some of them barely visible against the wall. There had been a large jolt in clarity shortly after the last metal door, but now it was rapidly descending back into its vagueness.

    Harry pressed on. He traveled a long way without seeing any metal doors. The stone doors were rare now, and almost all entirely vague.

    Suddenly, Harry heard a clatter. He turned around to see a strange creature. It was the same gray as the hall, making it hard to see. It resembled a cat, but with enormous, bat-like ears and large, marble black eyes. Its front legs had hand-like paws, and it had two pairs of back legs. All of its legs were webbed like a flying squirrel's, allowing it to glide down the hall Finally, it had nine tails that fluttered in its wake.

    When it saw Harry, it gave a confused warble and fell from the air. Harry moved towards it to see if it was hurt, but the moment the funny looking creature hit the ground, it bolted down the hall, past Harry, its tails and ears flapping wildly.

    Harry sped after it, but the ground was becoming rockier and rockier. The doors were now extremely rare, and Harry was barely able to make them out at all. He also saw no signs of any metal doors or blocked intersections at all.

    Eventually, Harry stopped running The odd creature was gone and the footing was very treacherous now. The haze was everywhere and Harry found that anything more than a dozen paces away was an undecipherable blur. The walls were void of any notable detail at all.

    Harry continued until he saw - in sharp detail, strongly contrasting the blurry, bare walls - the gray-haired knight from before. He sat upon a hazy rock, feeding what looked like hard bread to the bizarre creature Harry had seen earlier. The creature looked warily at the knight, but cautiously took the bread anyway. Behind him stood a figure concealed in a hooded cloak of midnight blue. Harry realized it was a woman, although it was hard to tell. Her form was almost completely hidden by the heavy cloak, and her angular chin and full lips barely visible under the shadow of the hood. She smiled warmly, then stepped back, bowing her head as she did, allowing the shadows to completely hide her face.

    "Ah, Harry," the knight smiled. The creature looked up and scurried behind Harry's leg. Harry reached down to pet it, but it jumped at his touch and scurried down the hall.

    "Nervous fellow," the silver haired man laughed. "Give him time He's not used to seeing you here yet."

    "Um, where exactly is here, sir?" Harry asked, still eying the woman. Harry wasn't sure, but she looked young, like she wasn't much more than five years older than him.

    "So, keeping your wits about you, Harry? The man said, all humor gone from his voice. "The Creelin are growing stronger and time is growing shorter. Have you learned of my legacy?" he asked expectantly.

    "No, I haven't," Harry muttered in agitation. "I've been a bit busy trying to stay alive. Who are you anyway?"

    "I'm afraid I cannot tell you that."

    "Alright, but what do you mean by your 'legacy?' What is it?"

    "It is a weapon that will be essential to your victory. I can't say more at this time. Have you sought out the one I mentioned when last we met?"

    "No I haven't," Harry said hotly. "I don't suppose you can tell me who he is either?"

    "Don't take this lightly, boy!" The knight said with sudden fierceness. "The passing of any information from my world to yours is a valuable gift and a costly trade. There are many restrictions that bind me. I will not sacrifice the importance of my advice to sate a mild curiosity. Now for your question. The one you seek is one of the wisest and eldest of those who reside at the school. His advice is heeded by all he speaks to."

    "That would be-" but Harry's sentence was cut off as the corridor began to shake. The funny little creature came scurrying back again to hide behind Harry's leg. A dark presence surged after it.

    Harry felt a strong pull sucking him into the darkness, and a firm grip holding him back. He saw the knight's multi-metal clad arm gripping his shoulder, but it wasn't enough. Harry was slipping towards the oblivion spreading before him.

    "Harry!" the woman cried, running forward. But as she touched the darkness, she melted into smoke. The knight's grip finally slipped, and Harry plunged into the darkness, and towards a pair of red eyes.

    Harry was in a cold stone room. He sat in a black wood throne - hard, towering and strong. Before him twenty or so men and women, all dressed in black robes and white masks, all knelt in respect and servitude.

    An evil smile rose to Harry's lips as he sent his followers away with a wave of his long white fingers. A sharp clap brought four new cloaked men in. Unlike the others, these four wore dark red robes, the color of dried blood, and rather than smooth, featureless masks, theirs were shaped like skulls. The two in the middle were both medium height and slight of build, their hands on their wands, tucked into their sashes. To their sides were two larger men. The left one was exceptionally large and square, and held a massive chain with a bladed weight on the end. The one on the right, was tall and powerfully built and carrying a familiar bronze scepter.

    They looked expectantly at Harry, but he merely held up a pale hand for silence, and then spoke in a high pitched voice.

    "Hello, Harry," he said to himself, and Harry felt his mind slip slightly away from Voldemort's. "I'd like you to meet my Reapers. Five highly trained assassins with the task of hunting down my most dangerous opponents. You have the honor of being their first victim since I decided to reassemble them."

    Maybe it was because his consciousness was somewhere between his own mind and Voldemort's, but Harry felt much less fear at being given a death sentence than he probably should.

    "Funny," he said, using Voldemort's mouth and voice. "I only see four."

    The two smaller Reapers shared a confused glance. One of them said, "Tanya is still in mourning, my lord."

    Disgust rose in Harry's stomach How could someone so pitiful, so weak, so... emotional, have been chosen to be one of his Reapers? It didn't take Harry long to figure out that he was still suffering the overflow of Voldemort's rage.

    "The sentimental fool!" Voldemort snapped. "Does she think our plans will stop just so she can weep for her brother?"

    "She weeps not for her brother," the other Reaper added, "but for the loss of the vi-" He was cut off as the man Harry assumed to be Vargos clamped a mighty hand around his throat."

    "What?!" Voldemort roared, and Harry felt new levels of rage and fury swelled in his chest.

    "The vial? You lost the vial?!" Voldemort roared at Vargos. "Why was this not mentioned earlier?!"

    "Forgive me, my lord," Vargos bowed, "but I-"

    "Crucio!" Voldemort hissed, and Vargos fell to his knees. "You thought to lie and escape my wrath, did you? But you should know I punish deception far worse than failure.

    "I was going to tell you, my lord," Vargos gasped, "after..."

    "After what?" Voldemort asked cruelly.

    "After you... were done with... the boy..."

    Harry felt Voldemort's shock and then his full attention was on Harry.

    "It won't matter," he said with false indifference, "because you will tell me where you are!"

    Harry's emotion was no longer distilled as he felt a wave of panic and fear. Voldemort was now summoning memories, much as Snape had done in occlumency lessons, but this time, Harry had neither wand nor body to fight back.

    Harry found himself in a whirlwind of memories. Snape had not been kidding when he said he was going easy on Harry in all those lessons. Voldemort shifted through his memories ten times faster than Snape had, and with a greater sense of purpose.

    A bright green light as Lilly begged Voldemort to spare Harry. Himself at age six, watching through the fence, as Dudley and his friends raced go-carts. Cho dancing with Cedric, a year and a half ago. Tom Riddle's Diary. Being trapped on the school roof. Voldemort sneering from the back of Quirrel's head. The graveyard. Black and LeStrange dueling at the ministry.

    Harry was spared what came next as Voldemort sped up the spell. Now the memories were coming and going so fast that Harry couldn't even fully identify them. He was eating, working, running, flying, alone, with friends, with Cho, on a hard floor, in a cold rain, in a warm bed, happy, sad, angry, nervous...

    Just when he thought his head was going to explode the images stopped, and Harry found himself standing once again in the Dursley's living room.

    Harry watched as the bleeding, one armed Snape issued commands. Everything started speeding up. He could do nothing but watch as he and Hermione fled from Vargos and into the darkness.

    He tried everything he could think of, everything Snape had taught him, but nothing worked. Voldemort plowed through his shields before he could erect them, and knocked down all the walls he build as if they were nothing. He was powerless. Already they were at the Number 16, Scullery Way, and Vargos was attacking the invisible Hermione.

    Harry felt a pang of guilt. How many times had Hermione put herself in danger for him? How many times had he nearly got her killed?

    Suddenly, they were in the hospital wing of Hogwarts. Harry was staring in shock at the petrified Hermione. Ron looked as if he was about to cry, and McGonagall looked lost.

    "No!" Voldemort hissed and they were jerked back to Scullery Drive as if by portkey. But Harry felt a surge of courage. He had a weapon now!

    But it proved more complex than Harry had thought. He tried everything, from Quidditch, to being tortured by the Dursleys. But he could not move the image again. Now Harry was turning to face Vargos. If only he'd been able to catch him and touch his face, as he had Quirrel. Then-

    They were in the empty chamber with the Mirror of Erised. Quirrel lunged for Harry, but he ducked down and threw his hands on Quirrel's face. He watched them struggle on the floor, saw Dumbledore race to pull Quirrel off and-

    "Stop it!" Voldemort hissed, slamming them back to the fight. But Harry had it figured out. At least, he hoped he did. If he was correct, he could not just change the image, but rather connect it to another memory through common events, and then move towards that.

    He figured this out just in time to see him crash into the post box. There was a loud pop, he hadn't heard last time, as his arm dislocated. Quickly, he focused on another time he had lost the use of his arm.

    The hot sun beat down on him as the snitch struggled vainly in his hand. He struggled in fear as Lockeheart raised his wand, ready to cast a spell.

    "Stop wasting time, boy!" Voldemort hissed, but Harry focused on the image, willing Lockeheart to cast his spell. Sure enough, Harry's arm flopped out into a rubbery mass.

    Voldemort grunted again, and the image began to fade. Harry strained, matching his will against Voldemort's. But the image was slowly beginning to change. It was almost too late. Soon he would see the Knight Bus, and it would be over. He had to do something! He had to-

    Harry sat up sharply. His scar was burning severely, and there was a dull pain in his arm and a sharp pain in his leg. A bright light was blinding him. He knew it was the headlights of the Knight Bus. It was over. But why did his leg hurt? He didn't remember anything happening to his leg.

    "Harry! You're awake!" Hermione sobbed.

    Harry blinked. The light was the sunlight coming through the Weasley's window. He was on their couch, soaked with sweat and water.

    "Summer called me. You were thrashing horribly. We were afraid you were going to hurt yourself. We tried everything to wake you. Water, shaking, yelling, pinching, and..."

    Harry followed Hermione's gaze to his leg. Apparently Hermione had finally woken him by stabbing his leg with one of Mrs. Weasley's knitting needles.

    "We got desperate," Hermione explained, both embarrassed and appalled at what she had done. "Summer- we thought, well, it might be-"

    Harry reached over and yanked out the needle, more to delay answering than anything else. "Yes. It was," he said through clenched teeth at the renewed pain. "He tried to get our location. I was helpless." A bitter anger flooded him as he admitted this fact, both to Hermione and to himself. How was he supposed to beat a man who could control the wickedest men in the world?

    "Then he knows?" Hermione choked. "Oh, Harry."

    "No. He doesn't. I was able to delay him just long enough for you to wake me. We are safe." He avoided their eyes, and he knew by their silence that they were avoiding his. Nobody needed to say "for now." It hung in the air just the same.