Harry Potter and the Burden of Becoming

Harry Potter and the Burden of Becoming

Chapter 52 - Rescue

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"I don't know how you can think that!"

"I don't know how you can think at all! I'm telling you it's the Patonga Proudsticks! And if you don't believe it, you're an idiot!"

"She's got you there, Ron."

"Yeah, at least with the idiot part."

"I am not an idiot! The Cannons are coming back strong next year. With Wegley in as their newest Chaser, they'll have a shot at--"

"Wegley!? She's a has-been from the Harpies. Sure she was great in the 80's, but she hasn't been able to fly straight since she took that Bludger to the head at the European Championships in Greece." Gabriella glanced up at the kitchen door, as she had every few minutes since Harry's departure, to find him standing there not moving. "Harry, what's wrong?"

She had wondered what was taking him so long. Some twenty minutes after he left with Tonks, all the adults had left to go spread the good news. Gabriella sat at the kitchen table, and before long started talking Quidditch with the Weasley family. Dean was content to sketch with one hand, while he held Ginny's with the other. All of the Weasleys were agreeing with Gabriella's keen insight about the game. All, that is, except Ron who, in defending the Cannons, didn't notice that Hermione had never returned from the bathroom. He was distracted, probably because he was losing his debate and taking it firmly on the chin. Similarly, Harry looked as if he'd been punched in the gut a few times. His eyes were somewhat blank, his complexion extremely pale, and when Gabriella asked him once again how he was, he still didn't answer.

"Harry?" Gabriella repeated. Just as the question left her mouth, a hand reached up from behind, and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Excuse me." It was Hermione, trying to enter the kitchen as he stood in the doorway. "Excuse me, Harry." Slowly, Harry seemed to come back to reality as if waking from a trance. "Looks like there's some pie left. Do you want some?"

"Er... yeah," Harry muttered, trying to clear the thoughts filling his brain. "Pie's good."

"You're not looking well," Gabriella said taking to her feet. "You were in there quite some time."

"Merlin, Harry," said Dean. "You look like you've walked through a ghost, maybe two."

"Let me cut you a slice," suggested Ginny.

"We probably should think about getting back," Gabriella said. "I really don't like leaving Mama alone too long." Without looking at her, Harry nodded into space.

"Right," he said blankly. "Home." Gabriella walked over and took his arm.

"It's been wonderful to see you all again. Please thank your mother for the dessert."

"No problem," replied Ginny. "You're more than welcome anytime. And don't think you need Harry at your side to stop by."

Gabriella offered a pleasant smile. "You're cold," she whispered in Harry's ear. Then she looked over to the twins sitting at the far end of the kitchen table. "Fred, remember what I told you. If you can't find it, let me know. Mama grows some in the backyard." And then she sighed. "At least she did."

Hermione gave Gabriella a hug. "I hope we can talk more later," she said warmly. Then she turned to Harry and hugged him too, leaning close to his ear. "We need to talk... alone," she whispered, "and soon." Gabriella overheard this, and had the sudden realization that Tonks was missing. She looked about the entryway hoping to catch sight of her as they walked to the fireplace, but she was nowhere to be seen.

Ron was the last to say goodbye before the two entered the fireplace. "You really need to set her straight about the Cannons, Harry." Ron's face was seriously concerned. "Clearly, she's been out of touch for far too long."

"Out of touch?" she exclaimed. "The only person I see who's out of touch is--" Harry grabbed her by the mouth, and a few moments later they emerged into number four, Privet Drive. It was a bit ironic to think that coming from Grimmauld Place to here, there would be a greater sense of disgust, but the living room was such a disaster. What's worse, there was a definite odor beginning to build. Harry expected to see a scowl on Gabriella's face, but instead her eyes bore concern.

"I should get you to bed," she said sternly, taking Harry by the hand. Harry looked conflicted.

"Well... actually, Gabriella, I'm a bit tired."

"Of course you're tired. You're white as a sheet. What's wrong, your stomach?" She moved to put her hand to his chest, but Harry pulled away.

"Just very tired. It's been... well, a full day. I really need to rest." He scanned the room. "A good night's sleep and I can clean this place up tomorrow. I swear."

She narrowed her eyes, trying to bite her tongue about the room. She was also trying to divine what Harry was holding back. It was true, he didn't look well, but she could sense more."

"Okay." She kissed him briskly on the cheek. "But the Dursleys return in five days. And it's getting harder to clean by the minute." She pointed at a film of mold now growing on the coffee table.

From the Dursley front door, Harry watched Gabriella cross Privet Drive. She didn't see his hands begin to tremble as he slowly shut the door; she didn't see him collapse to his knees on the floor. He had a chance to bring back Sirius, but nobody must know -- nobody, or they'd stop them for sure. His heart began to pound again, his palms began to sweat and his breath grew shallow. Just thinking about the possibility was overwhelming. Slowly, he got to his feet and ascended the stairs. He took off his shirt, tossing it to the floor as he gazed at the dragonhead with the ball of cinnabar in its mouth that now sat on his dresser. Then, turning to his bed, he found a scroll of parchment. Harry had left Hedwig at Hogwarts, and the window was closed. He reached down to pick up the note when Mad-Eye's voice echoed in his head and he stopped, slipping out his wand. First, he walked to the closet, but it was empty. Then he searched the entire upper floor. Exhausted, he returned to his room, and used the tip of his wand to open the note. It was from Hermione. How it got there, he had no idea -- perhaps the twins. He picked it up and read it under the light of the lamp on his dresser.

Harry,

Please, please, don't do anything until we can talk alone.

Hermione

He squeezed the parchment in his hands. She knew. She'd been eavesdropping. Anger began to roil up inside. He tore the paper into shreds, the pieces scattering across his bed. She'd ruin everything. He reached out and grabbed the red stone, accidentally slitting his finger on a tooth, and only serving to anger him more. "Damn her," he hissed, slamming the now glowing ball back and forth between his hands not noticing the blood coating his palms. He wouldn't let that happen. Still holding the stone, he sat on his bed.

It had been a long day... the funeral... revelations with Gabriella... news from Tonks. His body and his mind were exhausted, and he put head to pillow. If he were lucky, Hermione would be too late. He closed his eyes, his thoughts fixed on a large golden ring, the rune of the Viswa Vajra looking back at him. Perhaps, they had all they needed. Tonks would try soon. He had given her all she asked for, and would have given more if he could. His mind drifted to the film of Sirius falling into the veil, only this time Harry pushed his hand through and pulled him out. "I'll bring you back, Sirius. I swear." Soon, his mind still spinning with the day's events, he was asleep.

He was angry. Furious. The brightest wizards and witches in the world, pure of blood, loyal with fear, and they had achieved nothing. Ten wizards and three witches captured, countless allies dead, and they were no closer to achieving their objectives. "I must have more at my side, and soon I will." His hand clawed in the shredded upholstery as it had countless times before. He was sick of this place, tired of waiting. But they weren't ready for the boy, not yet, but soon. "We have time," he thought to himself, trying unsuccessfully to control his nerves. He noticed silence in the corner.

"Did I tell you to stop, Longbottom?" he slithered in a high, cold voice. "Crucio!" Neville cried out in agony, but his throat had grown hoarse and raw. There were no screams left. In his hand was a paintbrush, in the other a paint can. He was now covered in blue, painting over a red wall. Slowly, Neville reached up and put bristles to board marking another blue swath of paint. "Very good. Tomorrow, I think green again."

He stood surveying the hellhole he was in. This wasn't like him. He had always been patient, silently moving among the shadows. His initial downfall was impatience, and he would not let that emotion creep back again. After all, time was on his side. Or was it? From what Lucius said the boy was growing stronger, but Bellatrix refuted the boy's strengths as simple tricks. "Exploding gum," he hissed, thinking of the dozen Death Eaters fooled by the childish trick. There was a quiet knock at the door.

"Enter," he spat. A robed and hooded Death Eater entered the room bowing low, only the robes this Death Eater was wearing were different -- not black, but purple and red. Ignoring the visitor, Neville continued to paint. "Where is the new minister?" he asked coolly.

"The clock shows him at the Ministry, my Lord."

"A minor inconvenience," he said silkily. "Soon, there will be a proper minister. I'll see to that. Already our friends are on their way from the mountains." He stepped closer, and the Death Eater bowed low to the floor. "You left with purpose and you, for your part, have succeeded. Send this message: 'With you now at my side the tide will change.' You know now what to do?"

"Yes, my lord." The voice was not of a man, but of a woman's: familiar and comfortable.

"Excellent," he slowly hissed between his teeth. He watched as the Death Eater walked to the door, but Harry was not interested in this conversation, or the Death Eater. Where was Luna? How was Neville? He wanted to turn to see, and when he tried, Voldemort recognized his presence. "You!" he called without uttering a word, just as the door closed behind the departing cloaked figure. "You think you can visit uninvited?!" Rage began to fill his every thought.

The scene changed. All was dark. Harry felt as if a giant snake was swallowing him head first. He couldn't see, but he heard Voldemort's voice.

"Your ability to hide grows stronger. I shall not let it happen again." Harry felt himself being pulled further into the snake. "I learned many things when I was your age, Harry. I learned about myself and who I was to become... what I was meant to be." The tone changed to a soft hiss. "Join me, Harry. Let me show you your immortality," Voldemort beckoned.

"Go to hell!" Harry yelled back with his mind.

"Oh, I've been there my boy. I've been there," the voice echoed in his mind. "If I can't destroy your body, I suppose your mind will do. Your future is finished."

Harry was being squeezed tighter, digested by the giant snake. He couldn't breathe and the pain about his chest was unbearable. At that moment, a warmth began to build in his fingertips that quickly spread up into his arms and filled his chest.

"Not-this-time-Tom," his mind forced back. He focused on the surrounding darkness and reached his mind out to find its strength... its energy. And there it was, flaming bright before him like an inferno raging against the darkness. Harry reached out and held it in his hand, but instead of infusing it with energy, he drew the energy away. It was coursing into his body, his mind, and then... agony. A blinding flash of light, and his forehead split open in tortured pain. He pulled his hands away, and found himself falling from the darkness, falling from the light.

"You have the Heart!" hissed in horror across his mind, as he woke with a thump on the floor of his bedroom. Harry screamed. He screamed from the pain pounding in his head. He screamed from the filth coursing through his body. He gasped for air, and then realized an ultimate truth. Not filth... power! He could rule the world. An evil grin twisted Harry's face thinking of all those he'd make pay. All the years he'd suffered, all the years of torture and mockery, they would all pay... a fierce retribution! Again, he gasped for air.

"No!" he cried.

Some poison was gripping his mind, consuming his very being. He had to get it out. His body shuddered, heaved, and the power vomited forth. His insides flashed bright, as if the light of a thousand suns burst open from his soul. Still screaming, the energy poured out of his body shattering through the window of his room and sending a beacon into the night sky. The wallpaper of his room peeled, and the paint on his furniture charred. Writhing in agony, the carpet beneath him smoldered, filling the room with an acrid smoke that plumed out his shattered window. It lasted only a few seconds, but the torture felt like hours. Then, suddenly, the power collapsed inward driving back from the sky, back into the window, and plummeting into the ball of cinnabar clutched tightly in his hands. He watched as it glowed red, then white. The muscle spasms in his arms stopped, his hands let go of the stone, and it fell to the floor rolling next to the bottom of his dresser. When it was over, he fell unconscious, eyes open, on the smoking floor. But it was not a dreamless sleep. He was locked in silent battle, staring at two red eyes that looked back, unblinking. But, they were not the eyes of Voldemort; they were his own.

He woke to Gabriella yelling his name. It was distant at first, a soft beckoning from across the horizon, almost imperceptible as the red eyes flamed back at him. But it grew stronger, louder, until finally the red eyes blinked and disappeared. With the sound of her voice, and the withdrawal of his opponent, Harry finally shut his eyes. They burned. Tears began to stream down the sides of his face, and he squinted up to see the darkened ceiling of his bedroom, and Gabriella kneeling over him. He made to sit up, but she stopped him.

"Don't move," she said sternly, and then she firmly placed her hands over his face. It was as if his eyes were being washed in a refreshing bath of cool water. She let go, and he opened his eyes, now clearly able to see the devastation. It was fortunate that Hedwig was gone. The papers that had lined her cage were nothing more than ash. Harry sat up, peeling himself away from the melted carpet beneath him. The clouds seemed to open up as the morning sun beamed in through the window. "I thought I'd let you sleep, but when I came out for the paper I saw your window. What happened?" she asked, her voice shaky.

"I'm a lousy Occlumens," he whispered, rubbing his temples.

"You... you linked again?"

"He was killing me. So I... I don't know. I guess the opposite of what I did for Professor Dumbledore. Instead of giving him the energy, I--"

"NO!" she yelled sharply.

"He was killing me," was all Harry could find to say. She grabbed his face and gazed intently into his eyes.

"Give me your hands!" she commanded, now straddling his legs on the floor. He obliged and she examined them as if inspecting pieces of fruit for ripeness. She was whispering something under her breath, and he felt his hands grow cold, and then warm again. Finally, she let go. "Nothing," she breathed in amazement. "You kept none of it."

"None of what?" Harry asked, reaching back to hold her hands. The room was a disaster, but his head was clearing, and he kind of liked her on his lap.

"Whoever, or whatever you connected to, you've drained it of its life force," she answered with a voice that now seemed somewhat older. "How much I cannot say." She placed her hand gently on his face. "But it should have become part of you. Such is the power of the stone." Still sitting over Harry, she reached over and grabbed the stone from next to the dresser, and looked at it closely. "The temptation to hold such power has destroyed many. It has driven countless men mad with the voices they consume." She shook her head, but then a smile opened across her face. "But you... you rejected the temptation." She held her hand over his heart, and smiled. But then she sensed something else. She pressed her hand more firmly against Harry's chest, but he took her by the wrist and sat up.

"I-I didn't know that I had any choice," answered Harry. But inside, he knew he did have the choice, and it was his choice that made him wretch out such power. In that moment of realization, he felt for the first time in some small way he had on his own terms defeated Voldemort. It was not luck, or happenstance, a gift passed down. It was instead his choice, his to take, his to reject. There on the floor, with Gabriella on his lap, Harry Potter took one grand step toward becoming who he was meant to be. He pulled her close, and she wrapped him in her arms.

Holding her there, the cold wind blowing through the broken window of his room, he began to replay the dream. For the first time, he saw in Voldemort's eyes a look other than arrogance, or cruelty. He saw something akin to fear. Harry also felt that the Dark Lord now lay somewhere, injured. "The clock," he whispered in Gabriella's ear. Suddenly flashes of all his dreams came careening into his mind like flashing photos lit by a strobe: the gnomes, the garden, the clock, the upstairs room.

"The Burrow," he said, looking into Gabriella's eyes. "He's taken them to the Burrow."

In the few minutes it took for Harry to put on fresh clothes, grab his pack, and run downstairs to the fireplace, he had quickly explained all he knew, all he thought he knew to Gabriella. It was the clock, the Weasley family clock that always indicated their location that tied the fragments in his mind together. Luna and Neville were there, they must be. And now... now they had a chance to strike. Voldemort was weak.

"You can't go there by yourself, Harry!" Gabriella exclaimed, concerned about his sudden zealousness to rescue his friends. "If you're right, it will be crawling with his... his Death Eaters." Harry looked at her.

"What did Cho say? Brash idiots?" Harry smiled.

"Fools," Gabriella corrected, nervously.

"Fools." Harry nodded. "Not this time. I'm just going to tell Mr. Weasley and I'll be back."

"Then let me come with you," she said.

"No. It's too..." he hesitated.

"Yes?" she asked, narrowing her eyes. Harry rolled his.

"Alright, but it'll only be a minute. You'll see."

Gabriella cast one more look out the front window at her house across the street, and stepped into the fireplace. They stepped out at Grimmauld Place, the air filled with the smell of browning sausages. Quickly, they ran to the kitchen, only to find Ron and Hermione alone at the table eating breakfast.

"Where is everyone?" Harry cried in disappointment.

"Good to see you too, mate." Ron smiled, chomping on a slice of toast. "Gabriella," he mumbled with his mouth full.

"What is it, Harry?" Hermione asked cautiously.

Seeing Hermione there, reminded him of her letter. And that, in-turn, reminded him of the possibility that Sirius might be released today. But that was up to Tonks. His job now was to save Neville and Luna. He felt like saying something nasty, but Gabriella was holding his arm. It had a calming effect.

"I know where they are! I know where he's keeping them."

"Who?"

"Neville, and Luna."

The second the names left Harry's mouth, Ron and Hermione cast each other a glance then looked away. Harry didn't understand. Why weren't they cheering with excitement, or begging to know where? Instead, Hermione simply pushed her plate forward on the table and stood. Harry had to make them understand.

"They're at the--"

"The Burrow," Hermione interrupted. Her voice was sad.

Her words hit Harry squarely in the jaw. She knew. They both knew. He staggered backward, and Gabriella held him to keep him from falling over. How could they know and not do anything about it?

Gabriella pulled Harry upright, and faced Hermione. "They... You... are afraid," she said intuitively.

"Afraid?" Hermione asked with a melancholy tone. "Yes, we're all afraid. Professor Snape's known their location for some time, Harry. Since then, Ron's dad has had everyone brainstorming to find a way in and out of the Burrow that won't put them in danger." Her explanation was honest, but Harry was glaring at her, wondering if he really knew the person that was speaking. "Even Professor Dumbledore is afraid that if we go bursting in, he'll kill Neville and Luna first."

It took a moment, and then Harry felt as if the floor was turned on its side. Of course, Snape would know, and of course any assault on the Burrow by the Ministry would mean many deaths. The first to die would be Neville and Luna, Voldemort would make sure of that. He was breathing hard, casting glances from Hermione to Ron and back again. Ron just looked down at the kitchen table. It all made sense, but the anger and frustration were welling up again, and he couldn't stop it. Unable to fix the predicament, he lashed out at his friends.

"YOU KNEW? You knew and you didn't tell me?" he spat. Then he walked over to Ron, towering over him as he sat. "No more secrets, eh, mate?"

"Stop it, Harry!" It was Gabriella.

"THEY LIED!" he yelled back, begging for indictment. "They had me suffering over how I might find my friends, while they knew all the time!" He kicked over a kitchen chair. Gabriella, however, was unaffected by the outburst. She strode over to him and grabbed his arm.

"Do you have a link with the Phantom or not?" she asked calmly, but with a bit of a bite.

"Yes, but--"

"And if he discovered that you knew about his location, would your friends remain alive?"

"I don't know," Harry answered, trying to decipher it all. "He's wanted me to... I think."

"And if he found out how you uncovered his location... not by his own doing but by this, Professor Snape, would that not undeniably place the Professor's life in danger, as well as the lives of your friends?" The fire faded from Harry's eyes.

"Yes," he said, dropping down to the bench next to Ron, but facing away from the table. He folded his arms and ground his teeth.

"Ron and I only learned about it the other night. We wanted to tell you, Harry," Hermione said pleadingly. "We were eavesdropping on Ron's dad, and when he caught us he swore us to secrecy." Harry still just glared at Hermione. He hated what she had just said, more than she could possibly know. He was being left out of what was clearly his future. For a long while nobody said a word until Gabriella bent down on one knee next to Harry and adjusted the collar on his new coat, pulling the zipper up.

"You must now save them, Harry." Her words were even and direct. Ron spun on the bench to face her.

"Didn't you hear what we just said?" he cracked. "There are Death Eaters crawling all over my house. They'll kill anything that walks through the door."

"But Harry now knows all the things you've kept hidden. And the same reasoning applies, does it not?" she asked. "If the connection is real, the Phantom may ask how you know, and then your Professor and your friends might lose their lives the next time Harry sleeps."

"Let's just wait until Mr. Weasley returns tonight," said Hermione. "He'll know--"

"There isn't time!" Harry shot, standing from the bench. "He's sick now. I don't know for how long. This will be our only chance."

"Who's sick?" Ron asked.

"Voldemort!"

Ron cringed at the name, but he didn't ask how Harry knew, nor for that matter did Hermione. For once they were taking him at his word. Hermione folded her arms, and pondered the situation carefully.

"If we tell the Ministry, they'll want to go in full force. Remus could use stealth, and so could Shacklebolt, but they're on a mission together somewhere. Dumbledore might--"

"Dumbledore will say, 'no'," Harry interrupted.

"Flying's out. I suppose we go in by floo?" she asked.

"You're not going anywhere," said Harry, stepping to the kitchen doors. "I'm not going to let what happened last year happen again. If it's a trap... if he's not sick or if he's recovered we'll all be dead."

"You're not going alone," Ron said empathically.

Hermione was still steeped in thought. "I'd rather we had a Portkey, to get out quickly if we needed to."

"I said you're not going!"

"They'll be watching the floo, I'd imagine," said Gabriella, walking over to the stove. "Or have someone close by. If the Phantom has fallen ill, however, it may be enough of a distraction. If only there was a way to see without being seen."

Harry cast Gabriella a look, and then glanced at his pack. He'd brought his invisibility cloak, with that purpose in mind. He was trying to think of what to tell Gabriella, when Hermione slipped out the kitchen door.

"Hermione," Harry yelled, pushing the door open himself, "you're not going, and that's..." She was gone. "Hermione!" he called, looking in the study.

"She's probably in the bathroom is all," said Ron, a bit nervously. "Look, mate, even with your cloak on, it might be trapped. You could stick your head in the fire and have it blasted off your shoulders. It's too..." He stopped and turned to look at Gabriella. Her eyes were fixed on him, as if examining a strange bug crawling up the side of his head. His eyes just held hers for a moment.

Finally he whispered, "Yes." There was a pause. "I don't know." Harry looked at Ron and then to Gabriella. Ron nodded his head. "Why not," he shrugged. The redhead walked over to the fireplace, and grabbed some floo powder off the mantle. "Gabriella thinks I can reach out with my mind and see if anyone's there. Never done it, so I don't know if it'll work."

"If someone is there, Ron," said Gabriella, "you'll know their presence -- perhaps just warmth by the fire."

"Nothing foolish, okay?" Harry added. "Pull your brain out, or whatever, if something goes wrong."

Ron sprinkled the powder and called for the Burrow, but instead of stepping into the fire he reached out with his mind. "I can't see anything," he whispered. Gabriella touched his shoulder. "Whoa! Colours." Suddenly, his posture changed. It was as if he was channeling all he saw, experienced, back to Grimmauld Place.

"I can see the front room, and," Ron turned his head as if actually looking to the side, "the kitchen. I feel like I could just walk on in." He suddenly jerked back. "There's one, sitting at the kitchen table." He turned to look up to the right. "One's coming down the stairs." Then Ron's voice changed, taking on the intonation of those speaking.

"Quit crying, and get up here!" he said in a low voice. "If you don't help me get him down the stairs now, I'LL kill you myself." Then Ron said in his own voice, "They're running up the stairs." There was a silence, and suddenly Ron began to tremble. "They're l-levitating him... through the kitchen." Then the low voice of the Death Eater said, "Bellatrix says sunlight. Sounds crazy to me. He hasn't seen the sun since we got here." A moment later, Ron pulled his thoughts back, and returned to Grimmauld Place. At the same time, Hermione appeared. From where, Harry didn't notice.

"They're out the door," Ron said weakly. He was looking a bit peaked. "We have to go now!" he said, rubbing his temples. "Follow me." Before anybody could say a word to stop him. Ron and his body were on their way to the Burrow.

"Damn it!" Harry spewed. "I told him that..." he spotted that Hermione had a leather purse about her shoulder that he'd never seen before, just as she reached for some floo powder from the mantle. "You're not--" But too late. She called to the Burrow and was gone leaving Harry alone with Gabriella. "This is not how it's supposed to happen!" he yelled.

"Harry," Gabriella said with a tremor in her voice, "don't let the Death Eaters know you're there, or the next time you link, he'll ask how." He could tell she was trying to stay calm, but was having troubles. "F-Fight strength with wile." She kissed him on the lips. "I love you."

"We'll get them out safe," he said. "I swear." He hugged her quickly, grabbed some floo powder and threw it into the fire. "The Burrow!" There was a flash and immediately he found himself in Ron's living room. The redhead, wand drawn, was already ascending the stairs. Hermione only a few steps behind. When they looked back at Harry, he pointed up, and mouthed the word 'attic'.

There were voices outside. Someone was yelling; it was Bellatrix. He heard a wand blast something, and then screaming. Harry felt his innards begin to twist with hatred. He pulled his wand and turned away from the stairs and toward the kitchen.

"Harry," Hermione breathed. He stopped to look. "We -- need -- you," she said, under her breath, waiving him over. He looked to the kitchen, hesitated, then went back to help his friends.

The boards on the stairs squeaked and cracked with every step. Harry was sure they'd be overheard, but no one came. More likely, the Death Eaters were all hovering about their leader trying to figure out what might have happened. When he arrived he expected to see the house torn apart, but it wasn't. In fact, with everyone outside, one would hardly be able to tell it was a Death Eater stronghold. The only clue was a set of dark robes thrown over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. They wanted it to look untouched, he thought, the better to hide. As they climbed to the first level, Hermione suggested that they should check the bedrooms. Harry pointed upstairs, but Ron was already headed down the hallway to his room. Grinding his teeth, Harry followed in silence.

All the doors were opened, the rooms were empty. Here too, everything appeared untouched. The three friends shrugged their shoulders, shook their heads and again Harry pointed upwards. Ron led the way. Just as Harry was leaving Ron's room he noticed it. On the floor, partially covered by the bedcover was a red hood. Hermione started down the hall after Ron, but Harry walked in and picked up the hood. It was a deep scarlet, and made of silk. Gossamer, there were no holes for eyes. Harry held it in his hand for a moment, then slipped it on. He could see clearly, as if the hood wasn't even there. He slipped it off ready to join the ascent to the attic, when he noticed a few long strands of blonde hair. He held them in his hand, and rubbed them between thumb and finger. Draco was here. Was that a good thing? There was a crack, and quickly he turned expecting to see Draco in the corner, but found no one; it was Ron's weight on the stairs above.

Harry wasn't sure what to think. In some ways he felt he'd led Draco back into his father's arms... or arm. His emotions began to twist for letting Lucius escape. Where was the Death Eater? Where was Draco? He could feel his heart begin to race, for all the wrong reasons. He took a deep breath trying to regain his composure. Tossing the hood back on the floor he went out into the hall. Ron and Hermione had already disappeared from sight. From upstairs, there was a large squeak as a door opened. From the bottom landing, Harry was immediately hit with the strong smell of paint. And then a familiar voice, faint, but clear.

"I knew you'd be the first," she said quietly. "I told you Neville, didn't I? Dad says the Ministry can't do anything right." She coughed. "Where's Harry?"

"I'm right here." Harry entered the attic. Chained to the wall, her feet not touching the ground, was Luna. It looked as if she'd not eaten in days, but her eyes were clear, and when she saw Harry, a thin smile creased her gaunt face. Hermione was at her side, releasing her from the bonds. There was a lone chair in the middle of the room. Seeing it, a shiver ran down Harry's back. Huddled in the far corner clutching a blue paintbrush was Neville. His eyes were staring blankly at the wall. Ron had made to walk over to him, but stopped. Turning from Luna to Neville, Harry wondered why Ron wasn't moving, and then he saw why. Coiled between Neville and Ron was Nagini, her head some four feet off the ground glaring into Ron's eyes. Her tongue flicked at his nose as she rose higher.

"Fressssh meat," Harry heard her hiss.

Harry jumped in front of Ron. "Hasheth!" he slithered in parseltongue. "Move aside!" The snake did not strike, but neither did it move. It now glared into Harry's eyes. Harry glared back, allowing his eyes to transform, to change into the eyes she had always obeyed. "Hasheth!" She lowered her head in something of a bow, and coiled herself about the chair in the middle of the room.

"I wasss worried massster." She curled and closed her eyes.

Ron ran over to Neville's side, but when the boy in blue saw him coming, he recoiled in fear.

"No!" he rasped, holding his paintbrush up for protection.

"It's me Neville. Ron... Ron Weasley." The redhead held out his hand, but still Neville shook with fear.

"Leave me alone!"

Hermione had Luna down from the wall, but she was unable to stand. "He won't touch you," she said. Her voice was weak, but her wits were clear. "His mind is gone. I guess he'll join his parents at St. Mungo's."

"No!" Harry yelled. "It can't be! He's... he's fine." Hermione shushed him. He walked over to Ron's side, but his approach only aggravated Neville more. He started to try and strike Harry and Ron with his paintbrush, only his arm was so weak he couldn't raise it above his shoulders.

"We need to get him to hold the portkey with the rest of us," Hermione said, reaching into her bag. Harry turned his head.

"Portkey? Where did you--"

"Ron can you just hold his hand?" she interrupted. Ron held out his hand and tried to grab Neville's arm, but Neville kicked him hard in the stomach. Ron flew back and landed firmly on the floor, knocking over the bucket of paint. The rattling noise was loud, far louder than Harry's yell, and for a moment nobody moved. Then they heard it, a squeak from below. Someone was climbing the stairs. Neville rose to his feet, and started for the door. Hermione had Luna in her arms, Ron was on the floor, and Harry pulled his wand out ready to attack the ascending Death Eater. Hermione pulled her own wand to paralyze Neville, when he stopped on his own.

"Ron?" Neville rasped. From the floor, Ron was focusing on Neville. Reaching out to his mind with his own. Somehow he pierced the clouds of thought. "Harry?" Neville breathed again.

"Quickly," Hermione hissed. "Over here!" Ron stood up, and put his arm about Neville. Together they walked over and sat next to Hermione and Luna. "Harry!"

But it was too late. Whoever was climbing the stairs was upon them. In that instant, Harry recalled Gabriella's advice, and put his hands over his face, and stepped into the doorway, closing the door behind. Just then, not one, but two cloaked and hooded figures appeared before him.

"Master Malfoy?" the Death Eater in front asked. "What's going on? You know you're not allowed up here." They were both advancing toward him, though only the figure in front spoke, the other some four steps behind. "Leave at once, or your father will hear about this."

"I-I'm sorry," said Harry, in his best Draco drawl. "I heard screams." The Death Eater began to laugh. "I heard screams, I swear," Harry repeated.

"As if that were ever an excuse. Come with me, boy. Now!" The lead Death Eater pulled his wand.

And then something odd happened. The figure following from behind lifted his hand and stroked down hard with a chop onto the lead Death Eater's neck, and he fell, out cold, at Harry's feet. The figure stepped over the heap on the stairs and stood before Harry as he held his wand high.

"I like the new coat, but I much prefer green eyes," she said lightly, but out of breath.

"Gabriella?"

She pulled the hood off her head. Her face was beaming, infused with energy from the fight. "I've been watching," she breathed. "When I saw him climb the stairs, I thought I'd follow." She held up the hood in her hand. "I picked this up off the table downstairs," she said, throwing off the cloak onto the floor. "Where are they?"

"In-Inside," he stammered, looking at her handiwork on the floor, and then he smiled. "You're brilliant," he said, kissing Gabriella's cheek.

"Can I have Harry back?" she asked, not taking the kiss very well.

"Oh, sorry." Again, the sound of people climbing the stairs echoed through the house. Quickly, Harry transformed back. "Hermione has a Portkey," he said, opening the door.

"How convenient," Gabriella answered in a curious tone as she stepped into the attic. She jumped seeing the snake, but Harry put his arm around her and together they stooped down onto the floor with the rest of their friends. Ron and Hermione were both surprised to see Gabriella, but there was no time for questions.

"On three," said Harry briskly.

He felt his navel being pulled from behind, and when the spinning stopped they had arrived on a black granite floor -- St Mungo's. They were all still seated on the floor, much as they were in the attic at the Burrow. Neville in Ron's arms, Luna in Hermione's. Harry looked up. It was a large empty ward, except for three healers standing over them and one graying wizard... Professor Dumbledore.