Harry Potter and the Birth of a New Sun

Harry Potter and the Birth of a New Sun

Chapter 31 - A Dangerous Game

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The third staircase on the climb up Gryffindor tower locked into place. A few of the wizards in the portraits against the wall stirred, but most just continued sleeping. Even though she was exhausted, Hermione's heart pounded faster and faster the closer they got to the Gryffindor common room.

On their climb out of the dungeons, she explained everything that had transpired. Snape cursed Harry's reckless behaviour.

"He'll get them all killed is what will happen," Snape had hissed. "Foolish, just like his father."

But even still, he was intrigued by the possibility that Voldemort could have taken control of another student, perhaps too intrigued Hermione pondered. As they climbed, Snape tried to convince her that everything was and would remain just fine. Voldemort was certainly miles, if not countries, away. His words contradicted his eager expression. Nor was Hermione so sure that Voldemort had left Hogwarts once he had been forced to leave Gabriella's body.

Harry was certainly impulsive, but there was always an edge of truth in everything he said. It's just that he had a problem taking the time to think it all through. She wished that, at least sometimes, Harry would sit down and just contemplate the implications and intricacies of his actions and the actions of those around him. Ron had the same impulsive streak in him; perhaps that's why he and Harry were such great friends, but he was also, when he took the time, a great strategist. He could weave the moves four, or more steps ahead. Hermione knew that Ron's brothers, Fred and George, had long ago mastered that skill and that, one day, Ron would as well. Perhaps that's why she and Ron made such a great couple. Or, maybe, it was because he was such a good--

"Well, here we are," said Snape in a long drawn out sigh. "Shall you do the honours, Ms. Granger?" he asked, holding his hand out toward the sleeping Fat Lady. Hermione cleared her throat. The Fat Lady didn't move. She coughed louder. Still nothing happened.

"Excuse me," she said softly.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," snapped Snape. He pounded on the portrait's frame. "Wake up, woman!" he yelled. The Fat Lady nearly jumped out of the frame. Her hair was skewed to one side and her lipstick had somehow smeared across her cheek.

"How dare you interrupt my--" She stopped, realizing that a professor was present and then quickly tried to adjust her appearance. "Is there a p-problem Professor?" Snape looked at Hermione impatiently.

"Ms. Granger?"

"Er... sorry, ma'am. We didn't mean to--"

"Ms. Granger?"

"Why, yes, sir... Demon dippers."

The portrait swung open and Snape and Hermione stepped into the Gryffindor common room. Hermione expected to see Ron, pacing back and forth with his wand drawn, looking expectantly out the window for Harry's return. Instead he was sprawled out on the couch in front of the fire... asleep. Or was he d--?

"RON!" she cried. The redhead jumped up, nearly throwing his wand into the fire.

"W-What," he sputtered groggily. "What the bloody--"

"Worse than worthless," muttered Snape.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked, running to his side.

"Er... yeah," he answered, rubbing his eyes with one hand while reaching down about the bottom of the couch to find his wand. Realizing he'd simply fallen asleep, Hermione's demeanour instantly changed and, bent down as he was, she kicked him in the arse, flattening him to the floor.

"How could you fall asleep?" she yelled, kicking him once more. "Harry could be back any minute now and... and--"

"Stop kicking me!" Ron yelled back. "Ow! So help me... I'll--" Finally, he found his wand, spun onto his back and held it up at her, waving it like a first year.

"You'll what?" snapped Hermione, kicking his thigh. "I should--"

"Eh, hem." Snape gave a little cough and the two stopped to look at him. The irritation in his eyes was enough for Hermione to put her wand away. It took Ron a moment more.

"Sev... er, Professor," he said, slipping his wand away and rubbing his hind quarters. "Of course." Ron rose to his feet and put his arm, haltingly, about Hermione's waist. He looked into her eyes and whispered, "No need to go mental. I was awake. Reflexes of a cat. You know that. Meeeeowww." He made a clawing motion with his right hand, and Hermione, against her will, smiled.

"Is the boy still upstairs?" Snape asked with an obviously dispassionate voice.

"Er, Patrick?" asked Ron. "Sure. Probably still in bed. I haven't heard a thing since he left to the dormitory."

"Obviously," drawled Snape.

The three made their way to where the second year boys slept. Already, the early glow of dawn was beginning to reveal itself through the window. Hermione glanced out through the pains of glass and noticed a somewhat sickly looking wizard approaching the front doors of Hogwarts with great haste. She recognized, Remus Lupin at once, and his presence did not, in her mind, portend great things to come. She watched as the castle doors closed behind him.

"I suggest we proceed with due caution," offered Snape quietly.

All three held their wands at the ready as Snape carefully pulled back the curtains on Patrick's bed. He was there, asleep in a foetal position. Looking down at him, Hermione felt that the whole concept that this angelic looking boy could be possessed by Voldemort was fantastical.

"It doesn't seem possible," whispered Hermione. The words, though soft, startled Patrick and he jumped up, seeing Ron at his bedside first.

"Oh crap!" Patrick exclaimed. "Did I miss Quidditch practice? I was going to watch--" He stopped, noticing Snape. "Professor?" Then he saw Hermione. "What's wrong?" It took him a moment to process and then he yelled, "It's Harry!" The other second year students began to stir at the commotion. "Where's Harry? Did something happen today in the forest?" Patrick was agitated and tried to rise to his feet, but Ron held him down.

"He was supposed to see Dumbledore," Patrick continued. "I knew he was in danger. Where's Harry? I tried to warn him, but he wouldn't listen! He never..." Again, he tried to get up, but Ron held him fast. "Let me--"

"Legilimens!" whispered Snape with one hand against Patrick's shoulder. The connection lasted for only a heartbeat or two and stopped as abruptly as it began as Snape jerked his hand away.

"Well, Professor," asked Hermione, her wand drawn, but her hand shaking. "Can you see anything?"

"Nothing that would concern you, Ms. Granger," answered Snape calmly. "But, if this was He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, I doubt I'd be able to discern a thing." Ron sniggered.

"Then why bother?" he asked.

"Because," replied Snape, "if it was... him, he most certainly would have killed the three of us for even trying."

"But--"

"If he had, it would have been a foolish move, revealing his presence," answered Snape before Hermione could ask the question. "His plans, whatever they might be, would have been foiled. A worthy sacrifice, don't you think, Ms. Granger?"

"Voldemort?" muttered Patrick, somewhat confused.

"I could have a go," offered Ron. "Maybe you just need to--"

"No," said Snape shortly, holding his arm in front of Ron and blocking his way. Ron's temper flared.

"But I healed the Longbottom's minds; maybe I can see what happened to the Dark Lord. I know he was in there."

"Dark Lord," queried Hermione softly to herself. She'd never heard Ron refer to Voldemort in that way. And the tone was almost deferential.

"This is a job for Madame Pomfrey," insisted Snape. "I'm afraid your suspicions may have been properly founded. Young Mr. O'Riley here has no memory of this morning's breakfast."

"What are you talking about?" said Patrick, irritably. "I had kippers and orange juice and--"

"They served kippers yesterday, not today," interrupted Hermione.

"It seems, Mr. O'Riley," said Snape, "that you have no memory since sometime midday yesterday."

"That's not possible! I was just--" He looked to the window. "It's dark. But..." His head fell. "It's not... not again. Please... not again..." He began to cry, wrapping one hand about Hermione's robes. "Why me?"

"Because," said Hermione gently, "he knows that Harry is fond of you. You're the brother he never had." Her eyes flashed to Ron, but his expression did not register what she had just said. Instead he was more intent on Professor Snape. Her words, however, did appear to calm Patrick, if only a little.

He was still crying as they made their way to the Hospital wing. Hermione couldn't help but feel miserable for him. He was obviously unnerved and upset and worried. He clung to her as if she were a singular piece of driftwood in a vast open ocean. She stroked his head, trying to calm him, but little would help. Then, suddenly, he stopped and stood upright.

"James!" he cried. All at once, he turned and tried to head the other way. "We have to see if James is--"

"Hold on," said Hermione, struggling with the others to hold him in place. "We need to get you to the hospital and then... then we'll go check on James."

"But maybe--"

"Mr. O'Riley," spat Snape struggling to hold him as well. "If you don't turn the other way, I'll bind and gag you and have Mr. Weasley here drag you the rest of the way."

Snape's threats didn't work. In fact, it took some time to get Patrick headed back toward Madame Pomfrey, but, finally, Hermione was able to assure him that they would see James right away.

When they arrived, they were surprised to see Madame Pomfrey still dressed in her nurse's robes and wide awake. A further push of the door revealed why. Theodore Nott and his pals had been healed and were being released. Nott first saw only Hermione and took a step back.

"Stay away, you!" he yelled.

His recoil could not have stabbed further into Hermione's heart. She had nearly killed him last year, slamming his skull into the stone walls of the dungeons. There was still part of her that was happy he had been punished, but no part had wished him death. That her actions had nearly cost Nott his life had haunted Hermione all summer long. She had never told anyone about the nightmares, not even Ron, and the fact that Nott seemed so afraid of her, here of all places, shook her to the bone. She wanted to reach out to him, but knew that, especially with his pals here, that she would simply make matters worse. As her own sadness deepened, the flash of fear in his eyes quickly vaporized and a sense of anger filled the void.

"I... I mean," Nott sputtered, putting on a show for the others, "if you know what's good for you!" He had regained his composure, but not before Ron chuckled slowly as he walked through the door with Patrick in his arms, Snape a few paces behind. The subtle laughter did not go unnoticed by Nott or Hermione.

"Ron!" she whispered.

"What's that Weasles?" challenged Nott unaware that his Head of House was just behind the door. He moved forward, reaching for his wand.

Nott had taken only two steps forward before Patrick held out his hand and, struggling to break free of Ron's grip, cried, "Crucio!" At the same instant that Nott cried out in pain, Hermione and Snape cried out to stop Patrick. The spell was broken at once, and he began to shake uncontrollably.

Quickly, Madame Pomfrey ushered Patrick to a bed just as Nott's gang ushered him out of the hospital ward before he could verbalize what had just happened to him.

"You will wait for me in the common room!" Snape called after them. "Buffoons," he muttered to himself.

Patrick took a drink from a dull green potion and fell fast asleep. There was a pale pallor to Madame Pomfrey's complexion that wasn't there a moment before.

"I... I never..." she muttered to herself.

"No, Poppy," said Snape, "but the darkness has clearly seeped within the walls. Whether he had taken control of Mr. O'Riley's body, or simply used him as a pawn remains to be seen." He looked into Hermione's eyes. "He is, perhaps, closer than we can imagine."

She could feel Snape's eyes penetrating her own, searching for something. There was a pulse of pain in her right temple. She was about to challenge Snape for looking into her mind when Ron bumped his shoulder and broke the trance.

"Yeh think?" snapped Ron angrily, brushing past Snape and toward Patrick's bed. "Now maybe if you let me have a look, we can find out exactly--"

"Mr. Weasley," said Snape, placing a firm hand on Ron's shoulder. "You were the last one to see Patrick, is that right?"

"Yeah. Why?"

Hermione watched as Snape's hand tightened slightly about Ron's shoulder. She knew that he was trying to search Ron's mind as he had searched hers. But Ron's mental skills at both Occlumency and Legilimency were ten-fold her own. Ron slapped Snape's hand away and there was distinct pop as, somewhere, the air had arced between them.

"Oi! Don't think so, Professor." Ron took a step back from Snape. "Harry told us not to trust anyone, and as much as I'm sure you're not Voldemort, I'm just as sure you are."

"Voldemort?" whispered Hermione under her breath. Had Ron actually said the name? Her eyes scanned him for any hint, any suggestion that maybe--

"Yes... well," began Snape, twirling his wrist so that his cloak repositioned itself on his forearm. Hermione wondered if it might be to more readily grab his wand if need be. Ron took it exactly as such, as if he'd seen the move many times before and knew exactly what it meant, and for the briefest of moments, it was almost a twitch, he reached for his own wand and stopped.

"I see," said Snape, his eyes glancing back between Patrick and Ron. "Well, I think Madame Pomfrey can handle things from here, and I will go and speak to Professor Dumbledore directly."

At these words, Hermione brushed aside her own concerns as being paranoid and a great wave of relief past over her, certain that at last action would be taken. "Excellent, professor," she said with the faintest hint of a smile.

"Shall we go with you?" offered Ron. But before Snape could answer, Hermione replied.

"Oh, I don't think so, Ron. Harry asked us to be ready for him and I think it best--"

"But Dumbledore," interrupted Ron with unexpected vigour. "He may want to hear the whole story. He may not believe--"

"I can assure you, Mr. Weasley," said Snape smoothly, "that Professor Dumbledore will believe what I have to tell him." Ron's arms crossed. It was clear he was trying to assemble a new argument, but, before he could, Snape added, "And you bring up a good point, Ms. Granger. Someone should be ready to greet Harry and the others should they arrive; I think it wise that you alert Professor McGonagall." He held up his hand and a quill floated in the air and a small scroll appeared from between his fingers. He began to scribble hastily. When he was finished, the quill vanished and he rolled the parchment in his hands, uttering words Hermione did not understand... an old Germanic tongue she thought.

"Take this to her." He made a fist so that his ring, bearing the crest of Slytherin, faced a green wax disk that had appeared and aligned along the seam of the rolled parchment. It flashed bright yellow and sealed the note shut. "It explains... everything."

Hermione took the note from Professor Slytherin and started toward the exit. She was at the door when she realized that Ron was not following her.

"Ron!" she called. "You are coming, aren't you?"

Ron's eyes rose to meet Snape's. The redhead smiled an odd smile and, his eyes still focussed on Severus, said, "Absssolutely!"

Within minutes they were halfway to Professor McGonagall's. Hermione was surprised that Ron did not take her hand in his as they walked. It was his custom. But maybe with the thoughts of war floating in the air, he was too nervous. Moving briskly, they turned the corner to Professor McGonagall's office.

"You really shouldn't be like that, you know," scolded Hermione. "He's changed."

"What?" asked Ron, distracted.

"I heard the emphasis on the Sssss. I thought you and Harry agreed that he was--"

"I think I know where Sev- Snape's loyalties lie." They walked a bit further and Ron's hands kept flexing into and out of fists. "There's one way to find out."

Hermione stopped. "What's wrong with you? Why are you acting this way?"

"First, let's get that very important note to Professor McGonagall, as if she'd have half a clue as to what to do with the information, and then... well, we'll prepare a welcoming party for our Harry."

She didn't like the tone in his voice. Now Ron was being disrespectful to both Professor Snape, Professor McGonagall and his best friend.

"Look," she said irritably, placing her hands on her hips, "I know you're nervous, but--"

"Come on!"

This time, he had grabbed her hand and was nearly dragging her down the hall to Professor McGonagall's office. Before she had a chance to complain, Ron was banging loudly on the Professor's door. Suddenly, his whole demeanour changed. His shoulders, which the moment before were tall and defiant, had slumped. The fire that was in his eyes a moment before faded to fear. Then, for an instant, the fire and posture returned.

"Give me that." He snapped the parchment with Snape's seal on it and his figure slumped once more just before the door opened. Professor McGonagall was still in her nightgown; her eyes were tired but the tightness about her lips suggested that she had been in some way interrupted.

"What in heaven's name--"

"We need your help P-Professor," said Ron nervously. "Professor Snape insisted we g-give this to you. Harry's in trouble."

"Potter?" asked Professor McGonagall, concerned with the uncharacteristic appearance of Ron's emotions. "What's he gotten himself into this time?" She stepped backwards into her front office, leaving the door open as on offering for the two students to enter.

"Well, it's not exactly about Harry," began Hermione. "It's about Vold--" She felt Ron's hand dig into her wrist. She yanked her hand away.

"It's unusual that Severus should use his seal," said McGonagall, holding up her wand. She tapped the green disk and it vanished; the tight role of parchment uncurled. Hermione paid no attention. She was furious at Ron.

"I don't see why you should be so squeamish about me saying it, when you just used his name upstairs!"

Professor McGonagall looked up over her glasses at the two students.

"Read the note," snapped Ron, before Hermione could answer. "Please."

Hermione had never been so angry at him. She huffed and folded her arms, taking a step back and waiting for Professor McGonagall to look at the piece of parchment in her hands. As she stood, Hermione noticed the small door that was behind the desk in Professor McGonagall's office was ajar. She'd never seen it open before. Hermione could make out some paintings and a small sitting chair and table - an entryway to a larger space beyond from which came the light of flickering candles. Hermione's eyes shot back to Ron, who was eagerly waiting for Professor McGonagall to read the note. He had never been this way. Moody, yes, but not like this. Usually, he was ready for a fight, perhaps too eager. Now... now his emotions were swinging from one direction to the next. He was edgy, rude, frightened, bossy... it was like he was two different people. Two different--

"Patrick's well then?" asked Professor McGonagall shortly. Her voice was firm and the expression on her face had not changed. Apparently, the note from Snape had not impacted her in any discernable way. Ron just stared at her, transfixed, not saying a word. Hermione was just about to answer when the left side of Ron's face twitched upward, curling his lips into a smile.

"Well played, Minerva," he said softly with a cold voice. "It is unfortunate... isn't it?"

Hermione watched as the colour of Professor McGonagall's face blanched, though her expression remained stern. Instinctively, the professor looked back behind her toward the open door. There, on the table next to the sitting chair, was her wand.

"Ron?" Hermione asked. "What's--"

"RUN GIRL!" cried Professor McGonagall just as she lunged toward the steely eyed redhead before her. With a wave of his wand, he sent her crashing against the far wall.

"Stupefy!" cried Hermione, but, without even looking back towards her, he deflected the spell as if he were swatting a fly. He stepped toward the professor, crumpled on the floor, shattered shelves were strewn about the floor.

"Run!" called Professor McGonagall again. "It's--"

"A serious lapse in judgement, Minerva. So like a Gryffindor." With a flick of his wand, Ron sent a shattered piece of bookcase flying out of his way. "Still, I need to see the note. I need to know where Snape's loyalties lie. Did he tell you outright, or could you see through his lies?"

It was him. It was Voldemort! He'd taken... he'd taken Ron. A wave of panic rushed across Hermione and she was certain she would wretch at any moment. Her breaths became short and laboured. The wand in her hand was shaking violently. She cast another spell and another spell, each he flicked away with ease, never looking back toward her, ever moving toward his prey, the defenceless professor, crawling across the office floor toward the open door behind her desk. As he drew close, he held his wand inches from her face, but she ignored it, continuing to crawl toward her goal, her left leg twisted in an odd direction. The lack of fear drew rage from the evil controlling Ron. Hermione continued to fire spells to no effect.

"Would you die for a piece of parchment, Professor?" Voldemort sneered. "It was sealed and sent to you! You know for me to read it, you must hand it to me!"

Professor McGonagall stopped crawling, resting one hand against her oak desk. Instead of looking toward Ron, her eyes met Hermione's. There was fierceness and an anger - anger that Hermione had seen in those same eyes before, when students did not listen or pay attention. All too often she'd seen the look directed at Ron, but now they were directed at her.

"Run!" she said with a hushed but determined voice. It penetrated Hermione and, against her will, she turned and moved toward the office door, leading to the outside corridor. After only two steps, however, the door slammed shut and locked tight.

"I'm afraid I have run out of time to play more games," said Voldemort. He held his hand down toward the broken professor. "Give me the note!" Professor McGonagall took one glance at Hermione and a tear traced down her cheek. "How very touching," Voldemort jeered. "GIVE ME THE NOTE!"

Professor McGonagall looked once at Hermione and then at the desk before her. Voldemort snarled.

"AVADA--"

"Rennervate," whispered Professor McGonagall. Without another word she, and the note, were gone. It looked as if they'd simple melted away directly into vapour.

"--KEDAVRA!"

A flash of green exploded into the office floor sending shards and splinters of wood everywhere. Hermione could see at once he was confused, his eyes darting about, looking for where the professor had gone. He turned and faced Hermione, looking as if he might ask her where McGonagall had vanished to when, at the same moment, the old oak desk rose up on two of its legs and crashed down on top of Voldemort. There was a terrific crunch.

"RON!" cried Hermione. She began to move forward when the desk turned on its victim and faced Hermione.

The centre drawer moved out and Hermione heard it say, "Run!" in a dry, scratchy voice. She didn't need to be told again. Unable to open the front door, she ran toward the back door that was still ajar. Just as she passed the desk, it burst into flames and she saw Ron rising to his feet, his wand arm twisted in an awkward direction. Her emotions had sundered - half happy that her fiancé was still alive, half defeated that Voldemort was rising for the attack.

Hermione cast a spell to make it rain in the office and slammed the door shut behind her, locking it with a wave of her wand. Almost at once, she could hear Voldemort, blasting away. It would only be a matter of seconds before he was through. She ran back, further into the room, looking for another way out. She came to a small room that was evidently Professor McGonagall's sleeping quarters. Portraits lined the walls, pictures of Minerva McGonagall with friends and family. She was smiling in nearly every one. To Hermione, the smiling and jovial Professor McGonagall seemed, somehow, out of place. She wondered who these other witches and wizards were. There was another blast and she pulled herself away to look for an--

The door exploded open, Ron stepping through the billowing smoke and dust. Hermione's heart was crashing against her chest. She was trapped. There was no smile on his face, no interest in banter. He was furious that things were not going the way he had planned. He raised his wand with his opposite hand and pointed it at her face. She knew that she could not beat the wizard before her. Instead of attacking back, she raised her wand high into the air.

"Bombarda!" she cried, bringing down the roof above him. He stopped the falling timbers in midair and flung them aside. His eyes flashed red.

"Avada Ked--" He stopped, a small look of discomfort crossed his face, almost as if he'd swallowed a fly. He tilted his neck to one side, causing it to crack and then he spit the dust from his mouth. He shook his wrist and held his wand upright again. Hermione was backed against the wall.

"Ron... please."

"Avad--" Again Voldemort faltered. The fire in his eyes grew bright. He raised his wand once more, preparing to cast the killing curse, only this time he couldn't even begin the incantation.

"Ron?" Hermione asked. For a moment she thought she saw a flash of his blue eyes look back at her, but at once they were extinguished. Voldemort spat again.

"Very well," he hissed. He pointed his wand at Hermione and this time she felt her feet leave the floor. A moment later, she was flung onto Professor McGonagall's bed. "You don't want to see her die?" he asked, staring at his reflection in the glass that covered one of the portraits hanging on the wall. He turned back toward Hermione. "Perhaps there is time... time for one more game."