Harry Potter and the Burden of Becoming

Harry Potter and the Burden of Becoming

Chapter 47 - Lycanthropic Liberation

~~~***~~~

"Where is it?"

"I don't know. We should see it by now."

The three Weasley boys and Harry were flying fast and furious across the lake toward Hogwarts. Normally, the castle lights filled the skyline with a glow visible from even Hogsmeade. At Christmas the colour was yet more spectacular, drawing wizards and witches from around the country to take photographs. Now, halfway across the lake, the full moon and the brilliant red of the planet Mars covered with clouds, there was no sign of a castle.

"This is bad," cried out Fred above the roar of the wind. "You can't bloody vanish a whole castle... can you?"

"There's Hagrid's!" yelled Ron. The pinprick of light from the half-giant's cabin set their bearings. They crossed, as near as they could tell, the lake's edge. "That means the castle is over..." He immediately slowed his broom, and the others did likewise. Where the castle should be, there was darkness. The air had been cold, but suddenly it had turned frigid. Harry knew this feeling all too well.

"Dementors," he hissed, as they each landed on the ground. "Wands ready!"

"It's bad enough they ruined business for weeks after school started," growled Fred, "but now they have to go and ruin my Christmas!" Slowly they walked toward the emptiness they could not see, but felt in their bones. George pointed slightly to their left.

"The castle has to be --" For a moment, the clouds opened, and the night's full moon shone down like a giant spotlight from the heavens. "Merlin!" he gasped. Every flame was out on the castle and no light shone from within. Hovering about the castle walls and over its ramparts were Dementors, hundreds of Dementors, like flies searching for food. The boys scanned the windows, the parapets, the towers, and the castle grounds with the light available, but not another living thing stirred.

"The cabin," Ron offered. "There's light there." Harry nodded and they dashed down the hill. The windows were frosted over and inside nothing stirred. Without saying a word, Harry motioned to George to watch his back as he reached for the handle on the front door. Quickly, he pulled and it opened freely; the two plunged inside followed by Ron and Fred.

"Empty," said Ron. "They've taken him."

"Fang's gone," said Harry, looking behind the large couch. "They wouldn't take Fang; the dog's worthless, and Hagrid wouldn't take him to protect the castle." He shook his head. "This doesn't make sense."

"The Dementors may have come here first," answered Fred bleakly.

"Listen Harry," said George concerned and somehow feeling the responsible one, "I know we can all conjure a Patronus, and I know you're better at it than anybody in all England, but there are too many. We have to get help." Harry started to complain, but George held up his hand. "I'll fly back to Hogsmeade and Apparate to the Ministry. I don't know how many Death Eaters they have in Hogsmeade, but I'm sure it's enough to watch the likely floos. If we're lucky, someone's already gone for help. It'll only be ten, maybe twenty minutes; just stay here and we can do this together. Fred, make sure they stay put."

No one said another word as they watched George push off from Hagrid's stoop. He was flying low to the ground, speeding toward the lake's edge when a dark image seemed to sense his presence. Soon, a dozen or more Dementors were giving chase. There was a large flash of bright white light, and a Patronus in the shape of an enormous falcon burst forth from George's wand. The Dementors scattered and none continued the chase as he made his way over the lake toward Hogsmeade. Ron whooped a cheer. Harry grabbed Ron's mouth with his hand to silence him, but too late. The Dementors had sensed the joy and headed their way. Quickly, they ran back into Hagrid's cabin and locked both doors. An instant later, there was a thud at the window, and another on the back door. The room was growing cold, as the very foundation of the cabin began to shake and Fred seemed to grow pail. Harry stoked the fire, his arm still aching from his duel with Nott.

"Ron!" Harry yelled out. "The cupboard, Hagrid keeps his chocolate in there!" Ron ran and got the chocolate, feeding it to all three. The cabin was affording them more protection than Harry thought it should. He heard no screams in his mind, no echoes of the past. Still, the roof rumbled violently, showering them in dust and debris.

"There's got to be dozens of them out there!" yelled Ron over the rumbling, showing a hint of fear for the first time. "This cabin can't hold out forever." Harry looked at the front door, considering a frontal attack.

"No, Ron," he breathed, "no it can't, and we can't wait for more. Grab the door!" Hesitantly, Ron nodded, drew his wand, and put his hand on the handle. Fred grabbed him by the arm.

"It's suicide! The second we leave the building the whole lot of 'em will be in our heads. We might get a few shots off, but that'll be it."

"In our heads..." whispered Harry quizzically, lowering his wand; an idea was forming. "Ron, can you --" Just then there was a loud howl that seemed to come from the back door. It was long and mournful, and the second it finished it was followed by another, this time higher in pitch and more from the front of Hagrid's cabin.

"Oh, no! Not werewolves!" pleaded Ron to the air. He ran to the window and tried to wipe the frost from the inside pane. He was scraping away the ice with his coat sleeve when he recoiled in horror. Large red eyes glared back at him and then disappeared into the darkness. The air soon filled with howls, and the cabin gave a giant shudder, only to fall still. "I guess after the Dementors suck our souls out, we'll make for a nice midnight snack!"

There was a long, low growl at the back door, and then a sudden large crash against the wood. If the cabin hadn't been built for a half-giant, the wood would have splintered in two. In the distance, there was the sound of fighting as if two werewolves were tearing into something, or someone. Then again at the back door, they heard a yelp, and the door crashed but did not yield.

"It won't take too many more hits like that," said Fred coolly. He raised his wand and a broad blast of white light infused itself in the wood. "That will help, but not forever." At the front another werewolf howled, this time low and in an almost commanding tone.

"Ron," Harry called, "can you see?"

"I can't see a bloody thing," Ron replied, looking out the frosted window again.

"No, I mean can you see with your mind? I think... Just focus to the front! Is anybody there?"

Ron walked to the front door, just as another large crash hit the back. He closed his eyes and reached for thoughts out beyond the wall. "Merlin!" he gasped. "Anger... they're mad... no, he's mad." Still closing his eyes he called out loudly, as another rumble shook the cabin. "It's like two minds, Harry! Wait, there's another --" A high howl pierced their ears from just beyond the door. "That's a woman! She's calling to attack." Ron turned and slumped to the floor, his back against the door, he said dejectedly, "Finish them off at the cabin!"

The front window shattered, and a pale, dead-looking hand wrapped in shreds of black cloth reached through. Instantly, the room filled with the horrid stench of death and decay. Harry raised his wand, readying it to get a better shot should the creature fully enter. "Not us..." Ron muttered, still slouched at the door. The Dementor placed its hooded head through the window, and drew in a sucking wind that turned the room cold. Harry summoned a happy thought and began his incantation just as the Dementor let out a piercing guttural scream. There was an enormous ripping sound, and black liquid flew from within the creature's hood onto the cabin floor. It slumped across the sill, and was dragged away to the sound of more tearing flesh and growls.

A moment later, another shriek came from the back of the cabin, and then another from the side. "They're feeding," said Ron, staring blankly at Fred still standing guard at the back door. Soon the air was filled with shrieks the three boys now knew to be the rattling death cries of the Dementors. Gathering his strength and his bravery, Ron stood and placed his forehead against the front door. They waited and watched as the screams seemed to emanate further from the cabin. The rattling and crashing at the doors had stopped. "I count eight at least," said Ron, deep in concentration. Suddenly he turned to look at Harry, his eyes wide. "One's wondering why you're not using the Patronus it taught you!"

"Remus!" Harry exclaimed. "I'd know that howl anywhere." Even with a broken window, the air in the cabin had grown warmer. Harry stood on the couch to look out the window, realizing too late as he soaked his hand in the black ooze now on the sill. "Yehk," he spat. The clouds had covered the moon again, and all was dark. Another howl erupted from the momentary silence, followed quickly by multiple shrieks in the direction of the castle. Harry came back to his friends, wiping his hands with a large towel by the sink. "We need to get inside the castle!"

"Okay, I know he's Remus and all," cautioned Fred, "but a werewolf will slice open the guts of his own family and have them for breakfast as soon as not. He may want your Patronus, Harry, but that might be just to get more Dementors for snacks. I doubt the beasts are going to just let us stroll up to the front doors while they chomp on some more black robes."

"Maybe," said Ron, narrowing his eyes. "Maybe, if I could get close enough."

"Close enough!" shot Fred. "For what? Are you mad?"

"The walls here," Ron said keenly, "they're different somehow. If I can get outside, and move in close to one of the werewolves --"

"What?" yelled Fred. "Oh, I can see it now. Sorry, Mum, but it seemed like a smashing idea... little Ronnie sneaking up to talk to the cute little werewolves. Imagine my surprise when THEY ATE HIM!"

"I'm telling you he spoke to me!" Ron yelled back at Fred, and then turned to Harry for support. "At least I think he did." Harry looked back at Ron hard. He knew, better than anyone, how adept Ron had become at probing the mind. They had shared each other's thoughts, and Harry at least entertained the possibility, however remote, that Ron was capable of speaking to Remus the werewolf.

"How close?" he asked. Fred couldn't believe his ears.

"Harry, you aren't actually --"

"HOW CLOSE?"

Ron thought for a moment, rolling it over in his mind. He'd read the minds of humans from more than fifty feet away. "Twenty feet," he confidently replied. The clouds broke open once again and the moon shone bright on the castle grounds. Harry walked over to the broken window. The castle still swarmed with Dementors, while the howls and fighting moved towards the west side, near the Quidditch pitch.

"They're not going in," Harry whispered. "They seem to be looking for a way, but can't find it." Seeing that Harry was actually considering the possibility, Fred walked over and took his arm.

"I'm not going to let my brother --"

"That's not your decision, Fred," Ron cut in, "and it's not Harry's. I have no intention of going out to be an appetizer. I'll need the help of the best Beater in Hogwarts' history though. If we do this right, we can pull them away from the front doors and give Harry a chance to get into the castle."

"Ron --" Fred began.

"Listen!" Ron interrupted. "We can use our brooms. Last time I checked, werewolves can't fly. We can hover over the top and see if I can get in to Remus' mind and let him know what's going on. When George arrives with help, we can't have two allies attacking each other. Thing is, that's just the first move. The Dementors are out in the thick of it with 'em, and I'll need you to keep them off me long enough to connect." Fred was hesitant, not so much for his own safety as his brother's.

"Why the hell did you have to go and become a Legilimens for anyway," Fred cursed defeated. "If we do this, we do it my way, and that means we leave when I say leave. Is that clear?"

"Yes, big brother," said Ron, his lips hinting at a smile. He drew his wand and slowly opened the front door. Except for the screams in the distance, all was silent. The two Weasleys mounted their brooms as Harry sat low at the stoop of Hagrid's cabin. Ron turned to his brother to reassure him about something Harry knew all along. "Don't worry, Fred," he said with eyes of steel. "I can do this." Fred nodded, gripping Ron's shoulder tight.

"Be quick, Harry," he said. "If we can, we'll retreat back to the cabin. And here," he said, tossing Harry a blue-wrapped candy. "Nitro nougat," he grinned. "You can chew 'em for hours, but spit 'em out and they explode. Won't kill anybody, but it will knock 'em off their feet." For an instant, Ron and Harry held each other's gaze. They'd been near death together before, but somehow this was different. They gave each other a slight nod, and in a flash the two Weasleys disappeared into the eerie glow of a reddened moonlight toward the pitch.

Harry sat down and closed his eyes. Pulling the thoughts from his mind, he cleared it from all happiness, all sadness, all pain, and all joy. If the Dementors needed to feed, they would not sense it in his overwrought emotions. When he refocused on the front castle doors, his mind was imbued with the single purpose of retrieving the vivificus stone. Slowly, he made his way up from Hagrid's cabin. In the distance there was a loud howl, followed closely by a brilliant flash of white light that filled the sky. The Dementors swarming the castle seemed to migrate toward the commotion. It was as if a giant black scarf was slowly slipping off the castle to the west. There was another flash of light, and then a panoply of howls and screeches. Harry looked up toward the moon, and nearly had to shield his eyes. As they adjusted, he saw Mars glaring defiantly down on him as if Voldemort were a red-eyed Cyclops. It was, for a planetary star, enormous. Grigor was right, the sight was astronomically spectacular. He wished he could be out on the front lawn of Pensley College this evening. It would not be long until Mars would appear to crash into the moon, only to reappear on the other side an hour after that.

The Dementors had, for now at least, vanished to the far side of the castle. It was now or never. He tried to blow warmth in his hands, took another breath, and then sprinted to the front doors. Expecting to find them locked, he found them open and he slipped in as quietly as he could manage only to find the front entranceway deserted. He ran to the Great Hall, assuming the students would gather there under the professors' protection, but it too was deserted. There was nothing, not a student or professor, not a ghost or even a cat. He had never seen the castle this quiet. Only the flicker of an occasional candle suggested that there was life of any sort. Then, in the silence, he heard a distant voice. It was calling out from the towers. Immediately, he ran to climb the staircases.

The moving steps rumbled under his feet as he ascended. Soon, it became clear that the sound was coming from the Gryffindor tower. There was a great blast, like the sound of a tremendous electric discharge that lasted for a few seconds then fell silent. Quickly, he ran down a corridor toward Gryffindor. The voice called out again, and though Harry was nearer its strength, the voice was weaker; so too was the sound of lightning that filled the air. He turned the final corner toward the portrait of the Fat Lady, and into a corridor of darkness and stench.

"Lumos!" he called out, gasping for breath. The ground was littered with the empty black cloaks of Dementors. Slowly, he moved forward toward the entrance. Again, the voice weakly hissed out to the darkness an incantation that Harry could not hear. There was a faint white discharge that lit up the end of the corridor. It was enough to let Harry see, and the picture it imprinted on his mind filled him with horror.

Dozens of black robes were piled all around as black ooze covered the floor. Sitting in the muck, her back to the portrait of the Fat Lady, was Professor McGonagall. Harry could see in her eyes a mixture of fear and defiance. Her hand, clutched around her wand, reminded Harry of Neville clutching a small paintbrush dripping with green paint. Surrounding her were a dozen more Dementors, closing in. They were stooping close to her, but she had no more magic left to fight. Harry did not hesitate.

"Expecto Patronum!" he called high into the air. A stag erupted from his wand in a brilliant flash of white. It charged the Dementors, pushing them away from Professor McGonagall and into a corner of the corridor against the wall. They were trapped. Harry continued to focus his wand, and a continual stream of light kept him connected to the stag. The glowing white creature lowered its rack of antlers and plunged into the Dementors. They screamed as if being seared by a white hot poker. Harry repeated the spell. Another stag erupted to join its twin. It too lowered its head and plunged into the creatures. Professor McGonagall moved along the floor in the black slime toward Harry, but he paid her no heed. His mind was single focused. He recast the spell, just as one Dementor seemed to vanish through the wall in a withering cry, leaving behind nothing but a black cloak that fell into a puddle of black ooze on the floor. Another cried out and passed into nothingness. Again and again he summoned his Patronus, not to protect, but to kill. Soon, the room was as filled with screams as his heart was with rage. "Die!" his mind yelled out, but instead of screaming the word, his lips pursed and he blew a whistle. "No! Not now!" he thought, whistling the Hogwarts school song.

Two Dementors were trapped against the wall as the last Patronus crushed one into nothingness, leaving the other free. Harry tried to cast a spell, but only music left his lips. The remaining creature hesitated at first, and then swiftly moved toward Harry as he whistled. He began to feel cold and nauseous. He felt the rage being sucked from his body, and the whistling stopped. A new kind of scream began to fill his ears, and helpless, he fell to his knees, dropping his wand into the black goo. The Dementor leaned close, its rattling breath fogging Harry's glasses. It reached its decaying hands to Harry's face and pulled him closer. In that instant, a fire lit his fingertips and spread upward through his arm and into his mind.

"Don't - touch me - you bloody beast!" He took his right hand and plunged it into the darkness of the Dementor's hood, and grabbed hold of its coldness. The Dementor screeched, but Harry continued. "Siad Adumai!" he cried, uttering a spell he had never studied nor read before. The coldness in his fingers grew warm, then hot, as the Dementor's body glowed red, then white, lifting off the ground and exploding like a Filibuster Firework releasing all of the light the creature had sucked out of the world, and leaving nothing behind but glowing embers that floated to the blackened floor.

Shaking, Harry knelt on the floor and stared into the darkness. A groan at his side broke the trance. Searching the slime with his hand, he found his wand and lit the candles in the corridor. There, prone on top of a pile of black rags from the Dementors she herself had destroyed, Professor McGonagall lay pale and gaunt, but still alive. Harry reached down to help her up, but she recoiled, brandishing her wand.

"Professor, it's me," he offered kindly, "Harry Potter."

"Harry," she whispered as if waking from a deep slumber. "You shouldn't... it's not safe. The others... they're..." She fainted to the floor. Harry looked up to the portrait of the Fat Lady still flecked with splatters of black blood. She, like the portraits about her, bore expressions of panic mixed with relief.

"Mumosum Splenda," said Harry, repeating the password he last knew.

"That is n-not the p-p-password," stammered the Fat Lady frightened. Harry reached down and scooped up a handful of black ooze, preparing to finger-paint if need be.

"Open... the... door!" he commanded, jaws clenched. The portrait opened.

Crying for help, Harry carried Professor McGonagall into the Gryffindor common room and set her on the couch by the fire. It was warm here, but still nobody answered his call. He scanned about for any sign of struggle, but save for the eerie absence of people, all seemed normal. He ran over to the cupboard and pulled down some chocolate candies, but Professor McGonagall still lay unconscious. He placed a small bit of chocolate in her mouth to let it dissolve, but she was tired, far too drained to even swallow. He remembered the stone and dashed up the staircase to the boys' dormitory.

Entering his room, he found that nothing had changed. On his desk was the stone of cinnabar resting in the mouth of the dragonhead just as he had left it. But, where was everyone? Quickly he ran to his trunk, grabbed his bag, and started filling it with his most precious items. When he came to the Marauder's Map, he opened it, swore his oath, and looked to see who might still be in the castle. There, in Gryffindor tower, were the names of Professor McGonagall and Harry Potter, but no others appeared. Gone were the clusters of names that always gathered in the four houses, the library and the Great Hall. Harry re-centered the map to outside the castle walls on the pitch and found to his relief Fred, Ron, Remus and other names he didn't recognize. "Werewolves," Harry thought to himself. If not for the Dementors swarming the castle and attacking the entrance to Gryffindor, he would have thought the school closed. It didn't make sense, but he didn't have time to figure it out.

He tossed the map in his bag, stood up and reached for the stone. He hesitated. There wasn't time, but he had to. "Hang on, Ron," he whispered. Pulling his wand he sent a blast of fire into the stone and pricked his finger letting his blood enter the Heart of Asha. Again, all went blank, as Harry found himself being pulled into the ball. The white expanse waited for his next command. "Professor McGonagall," he concentrated. There was a whirl of colour and he found himself downstairs, looking at her on the couch in the common room, the fire's flame frozen in time. "Heal her," his mind echoed to the scene before him. The colours swirled and a blast of light plunged into McGonagall's chest, but not nearly as dramatically as it had with Dumbledore. For an instant, her eyes opened, then closed, and with them the scene went black.

This time when Harry came to, he was still standing, the ball in his hand hanging at his side. He was a bit dizzy, but the nausea quickly faded. He put the dragonhead and ball in his bag and ran downstairs. He had expected to see her up walking around. Instead, she was still prone on the couch. He knelt at her side and held her hand. It was warm. The colour in her face had returned, and she looked as if she was in a deep and pleasant sleep.

"Professor," he whispered, trying to wake her. But she wouldn't rouse. After a few more attempts, he decided it best to let her rest.

As he stepped out the portrait of the Fat Lady, his foot slipped on a slimy black rag. "Filch is going to have a fit," he grimaced, looking at the death and destruction around him. He moved as quickly as he dared down the staircases, trying to sense the possible approach of more Dementors, but none came. Except for Professor McGonagall in the Gryffindor common room, he was sure the castle was dark and deserted. He wondered how long his time with the stone had taken, hoping that time had passed as it had when Goyle was watching. When he finally made it to the entranceway, he paused trying to catch his breath. He stood close to the front doors and attempted to sense the cold of the Dementors that might have returned, but again he felt nothing. Perhaps Ron and Fred had been victorious, or perhaps they were having their souls sucked dry at this very moment. Unwilling to take chances, Harry held his wand high, preparing to fight the Dementors outside as he pushed open the great front doors.

Slowly, the doors creaked opened, pushing against the now drifting snow. The night was filled with an eerie reddish glow making the snow seem bloodlike. As the door fully opened, his heart sank seeing them there waiting--at least a dozen black figures only yards away.

"Expecto Patronum!" he commanded, and the giant stag once again appeared blasting into the cloaked gathering. But instead of scattering them, it slipped through them only to charge off into the distance. In the silence, there were a couple of stilted claps.

"Expelliarmus!"

Harry's wand flew from his hand. He squinted into the darkness trying to make out his foe, and realized too late... Death Eaters.

"Very good, Mr. Potter," came an all too familiar drawl from behind the black hood of the Death Eater standing to the fore. At his side was another cloaked figure with a black cloak, but wearing a blood-red hood. He stood no taller than Harry and was half a step behind the lead Death Eater. Scattered behind them was another dozen Death Eaters, a few of smaller stature and wearing red hoods. "Did you use the stag to rid the castle of the Dementors? I thought we'd summoned more. Pity, really." He stepped forward. "We thought we would have to break inside and retrieve you ourselves, and the castle was being very uncooperative. Only a few of our friends slipped in before it sealed itself tight. Interestingly, even one of your classmates was unable to open the doors." He turned to the short Death Eater at his side. "My associates were ready to give up, and here you are. Just as the Dark Lord predicted!" The last sentence was particularly stern and menacing, clearly directed at those whose courage was failing.

The gathering of black cloaks began to form a half ring around Harry, blocking his escape in any direction. The thought of returning back through the doors crossed his mind when the lead Death Eater shot a beam of blue light, sealing them. He took another step forward with a small black box in his hand.

"Now, Mr. Potter," he sneered, "if you will give me your hand. As much as I would like to take your life, here and now, I've been asked to save that special pleasure for another." Harry stepped back, running into the closed door behind him. The scene caused a cacophony of laughter from the Death Eaters behind their leader.

"Not so brave now! Is he, Lucius?" a dim-witted voice called from the back of the crowd. A voice, Harry thought, could only be Mr. Crabbe.

"Fool!" Malfoy spat, sending a shot of red light and knocking his fellow Death Eater on his back. Menacingly he turned back to Harry. "Now, Mr. Potter, give me your hand." His words were dripping with hatred. Then, a voice cackled out from Harry's left, catching him off guard.

"You're the fool, Malfoy," she screeched. "Quit playing the secret aristocrat, grab the boy's arm, and be done with it!"

"Bellatrix!" Harry seared through clenched teeth. From deep within, a rolling hatred welled up inside him. Like volcanic lava erupting from his soul, his mind exploded in anger. His hands began to shake, as the rage consumed him. He'd destroyed the Dementors and now, he was prepared to destroy again. There would be no caring heart tonight. She would finally die. He held out his right hand, ready to kill. And... began to whistle.