Harry Potter and the Burden of Becoming

Harry Potter and the Burden of Becoming

Chapter 33 - Dealing with the Snake

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The night outside Hogwarts Castle was clear and cold, but news of tomorrow's expected storm was well known to all. Three feet of new snow was forecasted and already the wind had begun to pick up, howling around the castle like dozens of wolves calling to the moon. Inside, the castle was abuzz with activity. Storm-proof signs and banners were being made in preparation of tomorrow's big match--the first Quidditch tournament of the year between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. With the fall of darkness over the pitch, the teams had retreated indoors to discuss strategies and last minute changes. Nearly everyone was focused on the tomorrow's match. Harry, however, was focused on the eleven and one-half inch yew wand now pointing directly at his face.

Except for the handful of candles flickering above the desk, all was dark. Harry's face was cast in silhouette as the same light glinted off the gray in Malfoy's eyes.

"There's no way you'll deflect this Potter," he sneered. "Your time has finally come to an end. What will Gryffindor do without the great Harry Potter as Seeker?"

"Win," Harry said without hesitation. His green eyes looked intently for the first hint of Malfoy's spell.

"Let's finish where we left off, shall we?" Balancing the wand with his thumb, Malfoy, ever so slightly, stroked the shaft of yew with his thumb. It was the signal Harry had come to expect. Before the words left Malfoy's mouth, Harry pulled his wand from his pocket.

"Where we left off?" Harry thought to himself as he raised his own wand. Then he remembered. He knew what Malfoy's spell was to be, but where to deflect it? He decided on the stone fireplace as Malfoy cast the spell.

"Incendio!"

"Protego!"

The spells were uttered almost instantaneously and Malfoy's spell deflected to the fireplace. The logs, already burning, exploded in fury. The heat was intense, but quickly diminished. Malfoy cursed.

"You're lucky, Potter!" Malfoy snapped dejectedly. "Lucky!"

"I told you two to keep the hexes simple!" Tonks called out. She sat at her desk in the front of the classroom grading parchments.

"Just needed a bit more light Professor." Malfoy grinned; he seemed to actually be enjoying himself.

"Okay, Mr. Malfoy," said Tonks still looking down at her papers. "I believe Mr. Potter's now three up on you out of seventeen. Place your wand in your pocket and hold your hands high. Should you again reach down before the sign is seen, you will again lose five points from your house." And then her voice became more intense. "Look for the move, Draco. When they think they have the upper hand, every wizard has one. It's the pre-spell warm-up that signals their intent."

"Yes, yes, Professor," said Malfoy with a sigh having already heard these lines before. "Allowed only to act on instinct, the wizard's spell will be quicker. Let them think they have the advantage and, if you know what to look for, they can be beaten."

"Very good, Mr. Malfoy," she said, trying not to smile. "But have you seen what it is that Mr. Potter does before he casts his spell?" At these words, Malfoy's carriage drooped; he didn't know. "Think, Draco. He holds his wand at the ready and..." Malfoy thought hard. They'd blasted each other over a dozen times tonight, but on the last three Harry had seen something in Malfoy's movement and now was deflecting his spells at will. In his mind, Malfoy went through Harry's motions and then, suddenly, saw it. A grin spread across his face and he held his hands in the air.

"Nothing too painful, Potter," he drawled. "I do so want to cheer for Ravenclaw tomorrow."

"Yes, Mr. Potter," Tonks echoed. "I want no trips to the hospital ward tonight."

Harry held his wand at the ready and pointed it at Malfoy's face. As was the required routine, he needed to say something, but he was running out of good lines. His mind turned the morning's news in his head and his face turned grim.

"So, Draco," he said in a solemn tone. "You've come to save your father. You know I cannot let you pass." The words put Malfoy off center for only an instant.

"I'm not here for my father, Potter," he scoffed. "I'm here for you." Malfoy's steel eyes stared intently into Harry's green. He was saying something more, something hidden from Tonks, but there for Harry to find. Harry narrowed his eyes and began to cast the spell.

"Petrificus..."

"Expelliarmus!" Malfoy rang out, wand in hand. Harry's wand, to the contrary, shot backwards towards Tonks' desk. Slowly, she left here seat and winced as she reached down to pick it up.

"Excellent, Malfoy!" She smiled and handed Harry his wand. "Excellent. The secret is almost always in the eyes. Almost." She walked back to her desk and Harry noted that the limp that had been gone earlier in the day had returned.

"Professor," Harry spoke with a hint of concern, "is everything okay?" She leaned against her desk and looked back at Harry. Her face was unusually grim, almost frightened.

"No, Harry," she said bleakly. "Everything is not okay. The Dark Lord and his minions grow stronger every day. Like rats, they're multiplying exponentially. We catch a handful at every attack and they double in size. And now," she looked at Malfoy, "old allies are returning." Malfoy looked away. "The choices we make in the weeks, the days, to come will be crucial." She sighed deeply and sat down at her desk.

"As for me, Harry," she offered a thin smile, "I'm fine." Then looking at the desk before her. "But, I have far too many papers to read and I'm sure you both have other places you'd rather be. Your detentions are finished. You can go."

Harry hesitated as Tonks took a parchment and began reading. Malfoy grabbed his arm, tugging him toward the door. Harry looked at Malfoy who was motioning him to leave and then to Tonks. She had tried to heal herself, but her powers were failing somehow. Malfoy tugged again, and this time Harry acquiesced.

Malfoy was beaming as the two emerged into the corridor. The light was bright and Harry's eyes needed a moment to adjust. "She's brilliant," said Malfoy catching Harry off guard. "Shall we get into detention next week?"

"Something's wrong," Harry said, concerned about Tonks. They were halfway down the first corridor when Malfoy glanced around and pulled a distracted Harry into an empty classroom.

"Well, Harry?" he asked, finally having Harry to himself. "You heard what she said, didn't you? We need to act now." His words were intense, and his eyes afire. "You're a fool, do you know that? You're worrying about tomorrow's match, when our hour is at hand! Where are your priorities, man?" Harry looked at Malfoy, his own eyes intense.

"What is it you're really after, Draco?" he asked. "Will you turn to your father when he returns? Or, am I already speaking to Lucius right now?" Malfoy's nostrils flared, his contempt palpable.

"His escape changes nothing," he spat. "He's still imprisoned, only he doesn't know it." Malfoy turned his back on Harry and began to pace the room. "Tell me Harry, when does my precious father show his head again? Not at the Ministry's Christmas party. There will be no more cocktails with Mr. Fudge, no more friends for tea and caviar." He turned and looked at Harry. "Only more secret meetings at night, in the darkness, after all have gone to bed." Malfoy, uncharacteristically, ran his fingers through his hair.

"Do you know how many friends have come to visit my mother since father went away? Do you?" he yelled. Harry said nothing. He had very little pity for the Malfoy family, and all the tears in the world weren't going to change that. But, Malfoy wasn't crying; his tears had dried up long ago. Malfoy sat in a chair rubbing his hands in broad circles on the large oak desk in front of him as if examining the wood's grain.

"She sits alone at night and wonders if he'll come back. She actually believes he can come back! But for that to happen, we both know who needs to win the war, don't we?" For a moment Malfoy's hands stopped, clutching the edge of the desk as if gathering strength. He shrieked, and heaved the desk over onto its side. Harry's eyes widened and he stepped back. Malfoy, standing over the scattered papers, turned once more to his nemesis.

"The Dark Lord can never win, Harry. He'll ruin us all." Malfoy stepped closer. "But neither can Dumbledore, can he?" He stepped closer again. "If either had the advantage, it would have been over last year, at the Ministry. Don't you see? They can't win." He paused, putting his hand on Harry's arm. "But we can."

Harry stood speechless. Malfoy's rant was truer than he could know. He was offering up all he knew of Voldemort's pieces, maybe more. There they were, waiting for Harry to open his hand and pick them up. But was this the unity that Dumbledore had spoken of? He had to be sure.

"You have much to offer, Draco," Harry finally whispered, "and much to gain." Harry now held Malfoy's arm. "Tell me, what do you have to lose?" The question was unexpected.

"What do you mean?" Malfoy asked.

"If I betray your confidence... what might happen?"

"I would be killed," Malfoy said simply. Harry shook his head and squeezed his arm. Malfoy took no notice.

"You're a Slytherin, Draco. If your life were on the line, I'd see it in your eyes. What do you have to lose?" he repeated, his voice hard. Malfoy's expression opened up. The look Harry had seen in Malfoy's eyes when Professor Snape had told him of Lucius' escape returned.

"Everything, Potter," he whispered. "Everything."

"That's what you say, but what I hear is that this is all a grand plot of yours." Harry said walking away. "A strategy to lure me in." This time Malfoy laughed.

"The pieces on the board know my position, Potter. They think they do, anyway. They also know yours. It is imperative that we maintain that... that illusion."

"Then I need a sign," Harry said again, intently looking into Malfoy's eyes.

"A sign?"

"A demonstration of your... sincerity," Harry explained. "I don't trust you, Malfoy. However we work this out, it's going to go slow. I need to know you're not going to strike me in the back. Your life may not be at risk, but mine is."

"Then you'll do it!" Malfoy grinned eagerly, and then he began to stare into space thinking intently. "A proper demonstration will take time." And then his eyes returned to the Gryffindor before him. "If we do this... I need your word you're in... in it all the way."

"You know my way, Draco, and I know yours. It's oil and water, and it doesn't mix."

"We'll just have to shake things up a bit then, won't we?"

Harry stepped close to the blonde and whispered, "Draco, you have my word that I'll do whatever it takes to defeat Voldemort."

Malfoy stepped in close and held open his hand. "And you, Harry, have mine."

For a moment, Harry hesitated. Thoughts of knowledge and power filled his head. "Where's room for love?" he thought to himself. Was this the only way? Was this the best way? He took a deep breath, and firmly held Malfoy's hand in his own. "I await your demonstration, Draco."

Late that night, laying in bed in the boys' dormitory, the conversations were entirely on Quidditch. One by one, all the Gryffindors fell asleep. All, that is, except Harry. His mind was filled with the opportunities that Malfoy might bring to the table. He'd only glanced at Colin's moving pictures, but then he didn't need to do much. The strategy was simple, but with Ron as Keeper, Harry thought, unnecessary.

"If he knew where Voldemort's hiding," he whispered to the darkness. He heard Goyle stir. In silence, Harry's mind spun on.

If he knew who at the Ministry were spies... the tide could change, and the veil of fear might be lifted. With Voldemort gone, Harry could begin anew with Gabriella. She'd be safe again, and together they'd be free to take on life together. The next instant, he thought of Cho, and his stomach lurched as he turned on his side. Every time he made an effort to talk with her, to tell her the truth, he was denied. They had grown comfortable in each other's arms. They had found warmth in each other's smiles. But when Harry's thoughts turned to the possibility of a future, that future always included Gabriella.

"Gabriella," he whispered, his hand flat on the bed beside him. He had written her every week. Perhaps they weren't directly connected with a beam of energy, but Hedwig was a close substitute. In his last letter, he had considered telling her of the mirrors, but dismissed it. He turned onto his back, his hands behind his head, and stared at the dimly lit ceiling. At last, he began to clear his mind. His last thoughts were on the demonstration to come, a demonstration that could seal his fate and the Wizarding World's future.

He woke with a start, panting, his breath shallow and his heart pounding, droplets of perspiration running down his face. He felt as if he'd been running, but he wasn't afraid. He wasn't running away, he was chasing somebody, or something. One thought lingered in his mind: water. He wiped his brow with his forearm, sat up, and looked out the window. It was covered in frost, and the morning still dark.

"It's time to get up," a voice whispered from behind. Harry jumped. Goyle was sitting up in bed, reading by candlelight. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," Harry answered, still off balance. "What are you doing up so early?" he asked. Goyle's face, lit with the single flickering candle, smiled wearily.

"I never went to sleep."

"Greg, the match is today, and..."

"And I have far too much homework," he interrupted. "After we win today, tonight's going to be one long party," he said grinning, "and I'm not going to wait until tomorrow." He returned to his book. "Whoever dreamed that Muggle Studies could be so difficult? Without the help of Hermione and Dean, I'd be sunk." Goyle looked over at Ron's bed. "Don't tell him, but Ron's worthless." Harry looked at the redhead across the room still snoring lightly.

"I'll bet he already knows," he whispered. He wiped his face with both hands and stood. The room seemed to tilt a little. Harry walked over to Goyle's bed. "You know I live with Muggles. Why didn't you ask me?" A dim light was seeping in through the dormitory window, and Goyle put the candle on his desk and blew it out. He set his book down and stood. A good foot taller than Harry, he looked down and simply shook his head giving a snicker. He grabbed a towel and started for the showers. Harry grabbed his own towel and followed.

"What's with the laugh," Harry asked, a bit put off. "I know you know..."

"From what I've heard around here, Harry," Goyle interrupted, "you spent ten years locked in a cupboard with the most vile Muggles imaginable. Once they were sure you were a wizard, it wasn't much better. I hardly think you're a poster child for the Muggle way of life. At least, I hope you're not. Otherwise, my dad's been right all along." The words, like the shower's water, were cold and biting.

"The Halloween he killed your parents and you vanquished him, however you did it, Harry Potter became the most famous wizard in the world," Goyle continued, washing his head. "I knew your name before I knew Dumbledore's." He looked at Harry. "Everyone in Slytherin thinks you, like Draco, are a spoiled brat, brought up with only the best. After all, when You-Know-Who killed your parents, any Wizarding family would have taken you in. You should have grown up with the best of everything and instead you have ten-plus years of torture to look back on." Goyle finished and grabbed his towel. "That's what your precious Dumbledore did for you--ten years of hell. Thanks, Harry, but I'll get my Muggle Studies help elsewhere."

As Goyle left, Harry remained silent, not bothering to adjust the cold water splashing his head and running down to the floor. He began to shiver, but not because of the cold. What did he really know about Muggles? He'd spent only one month with Gabriella and thought he knew what it might mean to be a Muggle and be happy for the rest of his life. He leaned his head against the shower wall, the water running down his back.

"Ten years of torture," he whispered to himself. And what had the years at Hogwarts been like? He thought of his detentions with Umbridge, the deaths of Sirius and Cedric, the attacks of Dementors and Basilisks. Against his will, he felt his mind forcing him to think of his parents and all he had lost. Tears began to trickle down his face. "Sixteen years of hell."

"Harry? Harry, what is it?" Ron had entered the showers. Harry spun immediately.

"Were you just..." he spat, pointing to his own head.

"No!" Ron answered immediately, holding out his hands. "I swear." For an instant, Harry glared at Ron, then splashed his face with the water and grabbed his towel.

"I'm the same as ever, Ron," Harry said weakly, realizing he had been wrestling with his own mind. "Whatever that means."

At breakfast, the Great Hall was frenetic about the day's match. Laughter filled the room, and everyone seemed to be smiling. It was the most positive energy Harry had seen in these walls all year. Even in near blizzard conditions, Wizards had been arriving all morning to find the best seats, and word had gotten out that the scouts from the Chudley Cannons and the Tutshill Tornados were in attendance. Ron was beside himself with excitement. Harry had been slapped on his back so many times it was starting to ache. Helen Hedera, a scarlet red iris in her hair, walked over to the Gryffindor table and kissed Neville good-luck. Everyone howled.

"I take it you're playing Chaser today, eh, Neville?" Ron joked. Neville just sat silently waving back to Helen as she sat down. "I think she's taken his mind!" he said with a laugh.

"She's taken his heart," said Hermione and smiled.

For the first time in weeks, Ron, Harry, and Hermione sat down to eat breakfast together. It was an opportunity to share some laughs for a change, but Harry's mind was not at Hogwarts. It had run down the shower drain and was on its way out to the lake. His face was anything but a smile. Hermione, sitting directly across from him turned from Helen to see his blank stare.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Hermione asked. Slowly, he looked at her with dead eyes.

"Potter! Weasleys!" Katie yelled from down the table. "Finish up, we need to get ready!" Having taken only one bite of toast, Harry pushed his plate forward.

"I'm finished," he said. He stood to answer Katie's call. The looks his friends were giving him, he had come to know. They were concerned and questioning, but they too had known Harry long enough not to ask. Ron, sitting next to Ginny, still had food on his plate and gave Harry a half-wave.

"Be there in a bit, mate," he mumbled munching on a muffin. Harry tossed his hand in the air and started to leave.

Even here, among all these people, he was feeling alone again. He looked to the ceiling and sighed. The roof of the Great Hall was white with snow, and the wind whistled around the windows. It would be cold on the pitch today.

"Good luck, Harry!" a voice called out. James Chang, sitting with a group of first years, was smiling and waving. Harry tried to smile back, but couldn't. He felt empty inside, like a great darkness had swallowed him whole. The emptiness had left a vacuum into which thoughts of who he was, and what his future might be came rushing in.

"Why am I here," he thought once again. He scanned the room at all the happy faces and felt so very out of place. Was he ever really happy here? He couldn't remember. Dumbledore said he was here to learn. Somehow, at this instant, it felt so pointless. "Learn what?" he breathed as he turned to leave.

As he made his way out of the Great Hall, he saw something that he had not expected. Cho Chang was walking in to breakfast. Marietta was at her side, holding her left arm, but Cho was walking. Harry's heart skipped, his eyes widened, a great light shone onto his soul, and a smile broke out upon his face. He ran over to her, and grabbed her in his arms.

"Look at you!" he yelled, holding her arms out wide and then hugging her close again. "I knew you could do it," he whispered. He looked into her eyes and kissed her. "I knew it." He squeezed her tight, buried his head into her shoulder and suddenly began to sob. "I knew it."

"I couldn't have done it without you, Harry," she whispered back into his ear. Harry took a deep breath and looked at her smiling face, her eyes looking up into his. Students, exiting the Great Hall, began to stream around them.

"You're amazing, you know that don't you?" he sniffed wiping his face. "You'll be flying in the next match."

"One step at a time, Harry," she said, and wiped his face with her hand. "One step at a time. Right now, I'm hungry." She took a step, teetered, and Marietta, herself all smiles, held Cho's arm again. "If you hear someone screaming 'Down with Gryffindor!' today, that'll be me. Hope you don't mind." With her free hand she stroked his face.

"If you're standing, you can cheer for whoever you want!" Harry beamed. Slowly, Cho and Marietta disappeared into the Great Hall and the deafening sound of cheers and applause. Just then, Ron emerged with Ginny and Jack Sloper.

"You're late!" Harry called. "Katie will be a dragon!"

"And she isn't already?" asked Ron.

As they were about to enter the Gryffindor locker room, Sloper became a bit uncomfortable.

"Well," he said, "er... good luck." He turned to the corridor leading to the stands when Harry stopped him.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"To cheer you on," Jack replied, trying to muster a smile.

"You're on the team, right?" Harry asked and Jack nodded. "Then you'll suit up with the rest of us! You'll fly to the pitch with the rest of us, spin out and cheer in uniform from the side. If one of us goes down, you're in." Sloper's smile grew wide as Ron patted him on the back and they entered the locker room.

Just before the game, Katie covered the last minute details. Her eyes had a somewhat crazed look to them as she attempted to give the team a last minute pep talk.

"Visibility is zero," she said. "Potter will be lucky to see the Snitch long enough to catch it. There's no way he'll see our signs." Harry sighed in relief knowing he hadn't really studied the signals that much anyway. "It's a Chaser's game," she said looking at Ginny and Dennis. The Bludgers can see through snow, so stay alert. "Geoffrey. Greg. Keep them off our backs as best you can." Dennis, the smallest on the team, looked nervous. To the contrary, Ron looked calm and unconcerned.

"Catch it as soon as you can, mate," Ron whispered at his side. "They're not scorin' on me today and I don't want us out there any longer than we need to be."

The door to the pitch opened. "Doin' okay there, Dennis?" Harry asked.

"I don't know," Dennis' voice quivered.

"Don't worry." Harry grinned as the snow began to blow into the locker room. "I was nervous my first time too."

"What happened?" Dennis asked mounting his broom.

"Not much," said Harry smiling as he mounted his Caduceus. "Voldemort took possession of one of the professors and he jinxed my broom from the top row. I nearly fell off and died." Harry slapped Dennis on the shoulder, and he and the rest of team flew out. Madame Hooch, wearing goggles and a fur cap, whistled for them all to huddle close so she could see them.

"I want a clean match today!" she yelled, the snow was blowing sideways in the wind. Harry could see the Ravenclaw's, but couldn't distinguish one from the other. She released the balls and tossed the Quaffle.

The game was on.

On the Caduceus, Harry was warm at least. His glasses were dry, but he still couldn't see more than a few feet to either side, and the wind was howling so loud he could barely hear the crowd below. "This is impossible," he whispered to himself. He tried, as best he could, to fly along the outer edge of the pitch. He had a good sense for how long it took to fly from one side to the other. His plan was to fly high, through the center, and hopefully not run in to anybody. With luck he might stumble across the Snitch.

On his first pass through the center, Dennis zipped by, missing his head by only inches. He was beaming as he held the Quaffle in his hand.

"Hey, Harry!" he yelled his voice fading into the distance as he disappeared into the snow. With a whoosh, two Ravenclaws passed by giving chase. Seconds later there was an eruption of applause; Dennis had scored. When Harry reached Ron, he found the redhead shivering, but smiling.

"That's sixty to nothing!" Ron yelled. Harry had missed the first two scores. "Have you seen it?"

"I can't see anything!" Harry yelled back. Suddenly Ron's attention shifted. He slipped quickly from the center ring, and moved to the ring on his right. Harry could barely see Ron, never mind any Ravenclaw coming to score. Suddenly, he saw the Quaffle zooming toward the right ring's center, but Ron twisted his broom and smacked it away.

"Catch, the bloody thing!" Ron yelled. "I'm cold."

Again Harry streaked down the center. Suddenly his arm burst with pain. Without knowing why, he turned his broom to the right, just as a Bludger brushed his shoulder. Goyle was right behind, and smacked it toward the far end of the pitch.

"Are you crazy!" Goyle yelled at Harry. "Stay to the east of the pitch, I'll tell Hooper, and we'll make sure the Bludgers stay west." Harry was going to argue, when Goyle disappeared into the snow.

His arm ached, but he moved to the east. He was just as likely to see the Snitch there as anywhere else. Ginny swooped past with Katie close behind holding the Quaffle. Moments later, there was another eruption of cheers buried in the howling wind. Harry moved quickly up and down the east side of the pitch for what seemed like an hour. He could hear occasional cheers, but didn't bother to check on the score. He was confident Ron had everything in control as Keeper. His single goal was to find the Snitch and end the match before they all froze to death.

A familiar hum passed his ear and his heart leapt. A second later, he ducked just in time to avoid being hit by Les Bowers, a third year, and Ravenclaw's new Seeker. Harry cursed under his breath. Les was fast and agile. Harry was sure Gryffindor was ahead, but was it more than one-hundred-fifty points? In an instant, he was speeding toward Les and the Snitch. He easily caught Les, but finding the Snitch was more difficult. He couldn't see it, but he could hear the hum fade in and out in the wind. The Snitch was trying to climb high into the wind. They were moving west, and moving fast. The wind eased, and suddenly the Snitch dived low. Both Seekers slipped toward the ground, neither knowing how close they were to disaster. Les pulled back, but Harry plunged forward. He'd missed the Bludger on instinct; he'd know when he was close to the ground.

The Snitch leveled and sped forward, but Harry was now with it at every turn, the Caduceus responding instantly. "Faster!" he thought, and the Caduceus responded. Rocketing through the air, he sat high on his broom and reached up to grab the Snitch when, for an instant, everything suddenly went scarlet. He was off his broom, and was falling to the ground, someone falling with him. His mind was on the Snitch and how close he was. He looked down and saw the ground. He hit. They'd only dropped some fifteen feet, two feet of snow cushioning their fall. Harry smiled to himself as the driving snow began to lighten. He sat up, when he tasted something warm and salty in his mouth. He looked up and saw the people in the stands coming into view, but then his vision began to fade. He was suddenly cold, very cold. A figure lifted itself off the pitch and walked over to him. It was Greg Goyle.

"I'm sorry, Harry, he said reaching down to give Harry his hand. "Are you..." he stopped. His face looked odd, Harry thought. He was going to grab Goyle's hand when he realized he was holding onto a broom. He looked down to find his hands holding the stock of Goyle's Nimbus 2001 near the bristles. The point had pierced Harry's chest and proceeded out his back. In the snow around Harry, a large ring began to expand outwards. Its color matched his scarlet flying robes.

"Oh," Harry gurgled unable to breathe. He could hear the screams as wizards were racing toward him, their footsteps muffled in the white powder. He fell stiff on his side. "I almost had it," he thought to himself, and everything was black.