Nicole Stevens: Blood and Daggers

Chapter Five: Secrets and Spells, Harry Unlocks the Truth

"I'm so tired," I said at two o' clock in the morning. Harry looked over at me from the couch in the living room, with a questioning look.

"Really? I'm not tired at all. All we did today was come to Diagon Alley and have ice cream. How tiring is that?"

"Well, that all depends on whether or not I take a three hour nap in the afternoon," I said through my teeth. "If I might remind you, you slept for three hours today. I didn't. Now, do I have reason to be tired?"

"I guess," Harry answered with a nod.

"Argh, boys. Don't understand me at all. I'm going to take a hot bubble-bath, and you can just sit here doing whatever sixteen year old boys do."

"If I really wanted to act like a sixteen year old boy, then I'd go take a peek at you while you took a bath, but I won't because I think that that look you're giving me means that you'd kill me if I did."

"Oh, good eye, Harry. If you dare try anything like that, I swear I'll kick you out," I threatened.

"All right, all right."

I walked into the bathroom, tossing my clothes onto the floor. I turned the hot water on, as well as several other knobs that dripped foam and bubbles into the water. The hot-tub bath was huge; eight feet by five feet, it could have easily accommodated two or more people. The tub was soon full, and I stepped in, the water coming knee-high. I sat in the tub, stretching out and relaxing as best I could. I saw a small vial of honey-coloured liquid. Pulling out the cork, I waved it underneath my nose, inhaling deeply. It smelled like vanilla and cinnamon. I poured a couple of drops into the steaming bath water, and unwound.

The smell in the bathroom was one of cinnamon and vanilla. There was also a hint of lavender, and only the tiniest bit of rosemary. It could have been a perfume shop, with the eccentric scents that drifted throughout the room. I felt more at-ease than I had in days. The tension drained out of me, allowing a comfortable rested feeling.

To my surprise, after half an hour, the water was still exceedingly warm, and bubbly; no less than it had been when I had just filled up the tub. The explanation, of course, was that the tub had been magicked so that the water would not lose its heat, and the bubbles would not pop. I sighed contentedly. Surely this was what everyone wanted, relaxation, a long hot bath, and a chance to feel fresh. Yes, it was definitely what I wanted.

After however long I sat there, relaxing, there was a knock at the bathroom door.

"What do you want?" I asked, not opening my eyes.

"To come in," Harry replied.

"Too bad."

"How come?"

"Because you can't come in," I said.

"Yes I can," he retorted, opening the door and stepping inside.

"Get out!" I screeched, trying to cover myself with bubbles, which was unnecessary, as they were so thick already. He came in and sat on the floor beside the tub. I shot a sharp glance at him, but he only shrugged and looked at the floor.

"I just wanted to come in here, because I got lonely," he said quietly.

"Okay, I suppose you can stay. But, don't get any ideas, because if you do--just don't, alright?"

"Fine by me."

"Turn on the radio," I ordered him.

"Why?"

"I want it on," I explained.

"No, you misunderstood. Why should I go turn it on?"

"Because I told you to. Please Harry?"

"Get out of the bath and we can go listen out there."

"Fair all right, I was already planning to," he answered, walking out the door.

I drained the bath water and toweled off. I wrapped the towel around my chest like a toga, then walked out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. Harry was lying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. I frowned and grabbed some pyjamas from my chest, before going back into the bathroom to change.

Once I had changed into my burgundy satin nightgown, I walked quickly bay into the bedroom. Harry had not moved. I went to the left side of the bed and sat, flipping the on switch to the radio as I went. Harry looked up only briefly, before returning his gaze to the ceiling. I glanced at him, asking,

"Harry, are you all right?"

"Not really," he answered, deadpanned.

"What's wrong?"

"Lupin."

"What happened?"

"Sirius...has been captured. By dementors. Lupin says that they're going to take him to Voldemort."

"Remus must be misinformed," I ventured.

"He's not. I got an owl from Dumbledore," he said in the same monotonous tone.

"Well then, what are we going to do about it?"

"And why not?" I inquired.

"Because Sirius is only a bargaining chip. If we try to get him back, then we'll only make it worse. Dumbledore says that Voldemort is after you and me. We'll try to get him back, but not us specifically. Dumbledore will arrange it."

"Oh..."

"I'm going to sleep now."

"All right."

Twenty minutes later, I looked over at Harry. His eyes were closed, but I could tell from his breathing that he was not asleep.

"Harry?" I whispered.

"Yes?"

"I love you, and we'll get through this," I reassured him. "We always make it out okay, and we always will."

"I sure hope so."

*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*

Finally giving up on the miracle of sleep, I stood and groped blindly through the black darkness, not thinking to light a lantern. I stumbled over Harry's trunk, cursing myself mentally for telling the innkeeper to put it there. I did not dare to swear aloud, for fear of waking Harry, who had floated off to the oasis of dreamland many hours before. I silently prayed that Harry's dreams were filled with happy things, to replace the sombre reality that he faced each day.

Tripping out the door, I crawled down the hall, not trusting myself to stand, for fear of knocking something valuable over. I made it to the door leading out into the hall, where the other rooms' doors were. I thought of Remus, who had said that his room was number--what was it? Oh, yeah, room seventeen.

I stepped out into the better-lit hall, and walked determinedly to the door with two gold numbers '17'. Nodding to myself, I rapped three times on the door. I waited for a minute before there was a scraping of locks and I was suddenly bathed in a milky light, looking up into Remus' face. He seemed depressed, and his pupils were slightly dilated.

"Hello, Nicole. Do you want something?"

I shivered and crossed my arms over my chest, "Um, yeah. I need to talk with you. About Harry."

"Oh, of course, come in. I'll make a cup of tea for you." He stepped back from the doorway, and I walked into the entrance hall of his suite.

"Thanks, but no thanks. I don't drink tea."

"Well, I have some vodka, but I doubt seriously that you drink that either."

"I've considered starting," I replied seriously.

"Well, let's go for the happy medium. Will vanilla coffee be all right? If you insist that it be spiked, I suppose..."

"Nah, regular vanilla coffee will be fine. Is there any place comfortable enough to talk? I have a feeling that we'll be here for a while," I said.

"Yes. In the living room, there's an armchair that you may sit in," he informed me.

"Thanks." I went inside and sat in the armchair. It was a golden-brown colour, and soft. I waited for a while, as Lupin made me a cup of vanilla coffee. Soon, he emerged from the small kitchen, carrying two steaming cups. One, he set on the coffee (how ironic) table next to me, and the other, he took with him to the chair across from me.

I help my cup in my hands, letting my skin soak up its warmth. Curling up with my feet on the chair, I began to explain why I was there.

"Well, when I got out of the bath, he was lying on the bed, and when I asked him what was wrong, he said that you had told him that Sirius had been captured by dementors to be taken to Voldemort. Then he went on to say Sirius was just a bargaining chip, for Voldemort to barter with. He wouldn't tell me much more. Is it all true?"

"I assume that Harry has told you all about Sirius and me."

"You know him?" I wondered aloud.

"I assumed wrong, apparently. Well, you see, at school, Sirius and I were close friends. We hung out with James and Lily, Harry's parents. This has been harder for Harry to handle, because he doesn't have experience in the prisoner exchange business. I, on the other hand, have worked extensively in that area. I have heard that you dealt with Voldemort's Death Eaters, and even Voldemort himself. Am I correct?"

"Well, yeah. I was kidnapped last year by Lucius Malfoy and forced to become a Death Eater. I used it as an escape option. Being second in command is helpful when you're trying to get yourself and another person out alive. I don't see what that has to do with any of this, though."

"Okay. Let me explain. You know more strategies when it comes to trading. You know how to deal with lives. When you hear the word hostage, your mind switches to autopilot, telling you the best possibilities to get them out alive. Harry works completely differently. His brain tells him the best ways he could get the person out of danger. You two are very different; you're the strategist and communicator, he's the hero. Now--"

"Ow!" I looked down at my left arm, startled. The Mark had burnt, stinging me.

"What is it?"

"The Mark; it burnt."

"What?!"

"It's not big deal, it's happened a couple of other times."

"It is a big deal! Let me see it," he set his cup on the floor, and I followed his example. He took my wrist and pulled my arm out, so he could scrutinize the Mark.

After a few minutes, he whispered,

"This is not good."

"Huh?"

"Something bad. We have to get you out of here. Stay in this room, I'll go get Harry. We're going. I'll come with you two by Floo Powder."

"No way. I'm not leaving. I've got a perfectly good suite--"

"We have to leave. I wish we could disapparate, but--"

"I can disapparate, but Harry can't. Hold on a sec! I know a transportation spell that's really easy to use. Get Harry and come back here. But, what about our stuff?"

"Come with me to your room, and you can get whatever is vital, and we'll have Tom get the rest. He'll get you the books you need and everything. Now come ON!"

"Okay, okay!" He ran out the door, and I followed hurriedly after him. I pelted through the door to our suite, nearly running into Remus, who was leaning against the wall, panting. He waved me ahead, and I hurried into the bedroom. Harry was sitting straight up in bed, no doubt woken by the commotion from our bursting through the door.

"What's going on?" he asked when he saw me.

"Remus says it's something bad. He's in the hall. We have to grab everything that's the most important, and I'll do a transportation spell to get us out of here. This is too important not to do. We just up and ran out the door. Come on, Harry. Grab anything you need: your wand, a couple of shirts. I'm SERIOUS!!!"

"Okay!" He hopped up and grabbed his wand and a shirt. He cleverly pulled the second shirt over his nightshirt, and put some trousers over his pyjamas. I followed his example and shoved a skirt and shirt on top of my nightclothes. I grasped my wand and threw it in my shoulder-strap bag. Then I thrust a silver ring on my middle finger. Lastly, I took out the communication mirror and stuck it in Harry's pocket. He didn't have time to question what it was.

Remus darted through the bedroom door, commanding quickly,

"Do the spell! Now! They're here!"

"Ack! Grab my hand!" I ordered them. They did as I said.

"*Convey this crowd,

On wind and cloud,

To the castle of the king,

By the power of this ring.*

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!" I called out.

I heard shouts as the room was enveloped in a cloud of mist. The fog lasted for a minute, before I suddenly fell forward onto hard ground. I rubbed my head, feeling a lump rising. Looking to my right, I saw Remus sitting up, wearing a bemused expression. On my right, an unconscious Harry was lying on the dirt, a small trickle of red blood dripping down his forehead and onto the moist soil. I sat up, licking my lower-lip, from which small drops of blood were dripping. Remus glanced at me, and said,

"I don't think that transportation spell worked correctly."

"No, really?" I asked satirically. "I think...something went wrong. back shock, most likely: too many curses being thrown at us, or something. I don't think we're in Kansas anymore, Remus. No, I don't think we're even at Hogwarts. And we're certainly not at the Leaky Cauldron. But, if we're not in any of those places, then where are we?"

"I don't know for certain. A forest of some kind, it would seem."

"No duh, Sherlock," I spat bitterly. Remus didn't take notice of my sullenness, but to tell me that I should check over Harry.

I cradled Harry's head in my lap, wiping his cut with one of Remus' handkerchiefs. I held the tissue to his cut, to stem the blood flow. Soon, it slowed to a mere drop. I wished, however, that the weather would be as predictable.

As soon as the blood stopped flowing, the rain began pouring. It pounded down on our unsheltered heads, though Harry did not notice in his current unconscious state. The trees around us provided only mediocre shelter, hardly lessening the heavy downpour. I dragged Harry over to a tree's roots, with the help of Remus. The tree was an old oak, towering high above us. I sat in the relative quiet, the only sound the pounding rain, whose noise was decreased under the tree, thinking. What could I do? Could I call Draco? No, that would be stupid. His father might answer the mirror. Maybe I could try to disaparrate, but it was summer, no magic could be used. Possibly, I could--no that wouldn't work. I turned down idea after idea, cursing my ineptness, and being chastised by Remus for my creative use of language.

"Hold on a minute, Lupin. I'm going to try something. Just let me be quiet for a while."

Justicia? I asked mentally.

Keeper, how nice of you to think of us. Please tell me what you need.

Justicia, could you get Melagh to trace me? I need to know where I am.

You're lost, dear keeper. I see. I shall get Melagh to trace you.

Thank you. There were several minutes of remote quiet, before I heard Justicia's voice in my head.

You are in a forest-type area in Russia. Somewhere near mountains. And a school is near you; Durmstrang, I believe it is. The forest isn't natural, but made expressly for the school. Anything else?

Not now, I answered.

Good bye.

Bye.

"Remus, we're in Russia. Somewhere near a school named Durmstrang," I told him.

"How do you know that?"

"Just trust me," I answered.

"All right. So, we'll have to get Harry there, though I hate to. Durmstrang! Who would've thought?"

"What's so odd about Durmstrang? Besides the fact that it's in Russia, of course."

"Durmstrang has a bad reputation for being very Dark Arts oriented, but it's the only choice we have. Let's go. I'll levitate Harry to the school, but--my wand is broken. I can't use it."

"Okay, so you'll use my wand," I said, handing it to him.

"If I must," he said, taking my wand from me. Standing up, he murmured,

"Mobilicorpus!"

Harry levitated to about waist-height, and I nodded in satisfaction. At least my wand had been less temperamental; usually I was the only one who could use it. So, with Harry floating three feet off the ground, we set out in the pouring rain with Durmstrang as our destination.

*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*

Knock, knock, knock! The door; someone was knocking. I rolled out of bed, toppling onto the floor, and waking the man in the bed. He sat straight up, staring around at the room confusedly. The silvery moonlight shone in through the high window, and onto the bed, bathing the young man in a milky glow.

His hair was as silver as the glittering moonlight. His eyes, deeper than oceans, were silvery-black, looking onyx-coloured in the darkness. The teenage--he was teenaged, I noticed--boy looked like an angel fallen from heaven. His pale chest seemed to have an unearthly glow settled about it, and the black bed-sheets contrasted with his silvery appearance. The boy's eyes turned to me, surveying me in a heap on the floor. He suddenly burst out laughing, his laughter echoing all around the stone bedroom. I smiled at his mirth, despite the fact that I ached all over.

When his fit of laughter subsided, I finally picked myself up and dusted my nightclothes off. He was still examining me with boyish delight. I shot a glance at him, which he returned with a small chuckle. Wondering what trick he had played on me now, I turned to him and asked in a quiet voice that reverberated throughout the room,

"What's so funny? I don't like to be the butt of your jokes. You always make me feel like I'm stupid. Tell me right now what you did to me, or I'll...come and beat you up!"

"That is an empty threat," he told me, still sniggering. "But the only thing I was laughing at was the fact that you actually thought someone was knocking at the door. I was tapping the bedpost--I guess I should have warned you, or something." No longer able to contain his amusement, he grinned widely. "But I thought it would be funnier if you fell out of bed before I told you it was me."

"Oh, you're impossible!" I said, thumping him hard on the arm.

"I know; that's why you love me."

"I suppose so."

Knock, knock, knock!

"Draco, stop knocking on the bedpost, I know it's you."

"What?"

"Girl! Wake up, you've got to wake up! Your companions are already awake!

"Huh? Whassup, I'm suppose ta' get up now? No way."

"Wake, I tell you. Your companions are already finished dressing!"

"Eh?" I sat up from the lumpy bed I was lying on, and stared up into the face of a man, not much older than me. "Who're you again?" I queried.

"Viktor Krum! I am Professor Krum. Now, get up! Rebus, or Remus, whatever his name is, told me to get you up! Now, do it!"

"Oh, bother," I said, resorting to British phrases to keep myself from cursing. "I'm up. Where're my clothes?"

"There are some over there," he said, gesturing over in the corner of the small bedroom. "Get changed, Potter will come to get you."

"Yeah, yeah. I know."

I stomped over to the corner of the room and grabbed my fresh clothes. Krum headed out the door as I changed. The clothes he had brought me were, by no means, nice. They were not rough-textured, but they had a musty smell; and they were RED. I hated red a lot. It was not a good colour on me, but I only scowled and slipped the heavy red dress on. It was off-the shoulder, and I shivered in the cold room. Dresses, what in the world were these people thinking? Teenage girls never wore dresses, only skirts and pants, and shorts. Never dresses. NEVER!

There was a knock on the door, and Harry stepped in, looking less frazzled than yesterday, the day he had been unconscious.

Once we had gotten out of the forest, the Durmstrang castle was only a few hundred meters away. We had trudged up the muddy slope, falling only occasionally. Remus had seemed wary and uncertain. Apparently, mud and unknown places bugged him. He had been sharp, as we arrived in the pouring rain, that I was not to disclose any, ANY, information about ANY of us, and IF I did, I would DIE. So, I had kept my mouth clamped shut and let Lupin do all the talking. How he had managed it, I would never know; whether he had chatted up the woman at the castle entrance, or whether Krum's recognition of Harry, I did not know, but suddenly we were walking through the large black doors into a small castle.

Harry came over to stand beside me. He was dressed in blood red robes, with fur on the cuffs. He looked grotesquely violent in red, which I was quick to point out.

"Harry, red is an awful colour on you. It's worse on you than on ME, and that's saying something. Wouldn't they let you have something--oh, I dunno'--GREEN?"

"No, they didn't have anything green. I know red looks more than a tad bit bad on me, and please leave me alone about my attire. I hate it, and, mind you, I don't think you look just peachy in red, yourself," he spat. I smirked, allowing his scorn to stand.

"Well, I was just saying that they don't have a good clothes selection. But, Remus will be unhappy if we don't get ourselves down to breakfast, or whatever we're supposed to be doing. Does that Krum guy know you or something? He seemed a bit--odd."

"Yeah, that's Viktor Krum. Hermione dated him in fourth year. He asked me how Hermione was, and when I couldn't tell him, he seemed upset. Oh well. All I want is to know what happened the other night. No-one's explained it to me, yet."

"Oh, I don't know if Lupin wants you to know," I said, covering up my secret; the Dark Mark. "I promise to tell you later, but I can't now. Don't go bugging Remus; he's got enough on his plate as it is. But, I PROMISE that I'll tell you later," I told him.

"Fine," sulked Harry, "but I want to know now."

"Too bad. I'm not going to tell you now."

"What's that?" Harry asked, pointing at my left arm. My eyes widened and I clapped my hand over the Mark. Harry was too quick for me, though. He grabbed my forearm and dragged my hand off of it. When he saw the Mark, Harry dropped my arm and stumbled back. He was looking like I was a vicious snake, posed to strike.

"WH-WHAT IS THAT?" he yelled.

"It's nothing. Just a...nothing."

"That's the Dark Mark!" he cried. "You're a Death Eater? How could you not tell me?"

"Harry, I was afraid. I didn't think you'd--"

"Understand? Well, you're spot on, I don't understand it! You will tell me RIGHT THIS SECOND what that is and HOW it got there!"

"It's the Dark Mark," I whispered. "I had to pretend I was a Death Eater, otherwise we'd never have made it out of the Dark Lord's castle."

"You're lying!"

"I'm not!" I answered, bursting into tears. "I don't know why I agreed, I should've thought of something different to get us out, but I couldn't--I couldn't. Harry, you've got to understand. We'd have DIED if I hadn't. Please--please believe me. I didn't mean to hide it from you, but I had to. I didn't want you to overreact and forget about me!" I sobbed. I leaned back against the wall and sank to the floor. Harry strode over to me, towering above me. He stared pitilessly down, and I could hardly meet his gaze.

"Are you a Death Eater?" he asked in a whisper.

"Not technically--"

"Not technically is not the answer. It's yes or no."

"Y--No," I changed my answer halfway through the sentence.

"If you're not a Death Eater, then why do you have the Mark? Only Death Eaters have that mark," he informed me.

"I was lying when I agreed. Voldemort didn't realize it, I don't think. Please believe me," I pleaded. "I am telling the complete truth. Harry, you've got to believe me."

"No. You're lying to me. I don't believe you." He shook his head and spun on his heel, stomping out the door.

My body was racked with sobs that echoed through the stone room. I let myself slip all the way onto the floor, to lie on my side. I cried for a long time, before finally sinking into a depressed sleep.

*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*

Later, that day would seem like nothing, though at the time, it was one of the worst days I had ever had. At least, that was how I looked at it. After Harry had stormed out, I had lie on the floor and wept, not for the first time that month. Remus had come to get me shortly after my crying spell, not saying anything, just gesturing that I needed to go downstairs and eat something. I had obeyed, merely because I did not feel like sitting morosely on the floor for any longer. Harry had not spoken to me all throughout breakfast/lunch--whichever it was--and I had not urged him to do so. I was depressed, confused, and lonely. Lupin was no help. He was a busybody, going around and making plans, never stopping once to check on how I was feeling.

It must be a guy thing, I thought as he hustled around my room, looking for his broken wand. I pointed at the dresser, where his wand was lying, snapped in half. He nodded and hurried to get it. I frowned, picking at the frayed bedspread on the bed that I was lying on.

"Remus, does Harry hate me?" I asked.

"Of course not," he answered, not pausing to look at me. "He's just upset, that's all. He'll get over it, I know. I was--believe it or not--a teenager once. I promise he'll forget about in time. Now, where's that..."

I sighed, continuing to pluck the little threads out of the covers. I sniffled, thinking wistfully of the happy days when I was at home, thumping Harry playfully on the arm. My thoughts were interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. Without waiting for an answer, the door swung open.

A tall, black haired man stood in the doorway.

Rayne, the vampire.