The Beginning of The End

Chapter Fifteen

The Beginning

When Harry woke up, he became instantly aware of two things: one, he wasn't in his own bed and two, something was very wrong. He opened his eyes to the dark and deserted hospital wing, lit only by a thin candle on his bedside table and an odd glow of green light. When his eyes adjusted, they focused on the window across the room and the streak of emerald pooling on the dark floor beneath the window. Memories of the earlier events washed over him like a giant wave.

Without thinking, Harry sat up quickly--and sucked in his breath. The pain was blinding and he quickly fell back, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to empty his mind. It hurt even to think. He didn't know how long he stayed in that position, his eyes squeezed shut, his head throbbing mercilessly until, at last, the pain became slightly bearable. Harry opened his watering eyes and lifted his head cautiously. After a few seconds, he brought himself up into a sitting position and before long, he was perched on the edge of the bed, his bare feet on the cold stone floor as he held his head in his hands and tried to remember what had happened.

His brain formed a picture of the lake and he remembered feeling totally relaxed for the brief moment. And in his mind, he saw the Dark Mark, through the window behind Dumbledore's desk, glowing into the night and floating over that tree. Hermione had been talking... telling Dumbledore what had happened by the lake. The last thing Harry recalled was the pain in his scar and feeling like he was going to throw up... or faint.

Harry took a deep breath. As he sat on the bed, in the silent, empty room, the dull pain began to desist. He felt drained--as if he'd spent the entire day practicing Bene Omnia Vincit without a break. The thought of the spell had a thin tremor of fear prickling the back of his neck.

How was he supposed to protect the school from Voldemort when he could even look at the bloody Dark Mark?

Very carefully, he leaned over and got to his feet. The pain increased slightly, but it wasn't anything earth shattering, so he walked over to the window and narrowed his eyes in the bright light. The Mark was still out there, bigger now and glowing even brighter than before. All he could do was stare at it and once again, the burning in his scar erupted.

Harry clutched his head and staggered back, collapsing onto the nearest bed. The truth was right there in his scar and somewhere in the back of his mind Harry knew this was it--what Dumbledore had predicted, what Bene Omnia Vincit had been assembled for. And here he was, the key figure, in the bloody hospital wing unable to move.

The door at the very end of the room creaked and Harry looked up to see it open and close by itself. He shot to his feet and grabbed his wand, wavering on the spot from the nauseating pain the sudden movement afforded him.

There was a rustle in the air and Ron appeared, yanking off Harry's Invisibility Cloak and tossing it onto the bed.

"Ease up, mate, it's only me."

Harry sank onto the bed. "What's happening?"

"Nothing... what I didn't have to do to get up here, you'd think people would go to bed already. It's two in the morning." Ron sat down onto the bed opposite Harry and looked at him intently. "How do you feel?"

Harry lifted a hand. "I'd like to know what in hell is going on out there."

"Well, it's all quiet now. Everyone's either asleep or sitting up staring at that bloody thing. It's huge now."

"I know--I saw it. What happened after I passed out?"

"Well, everyone had to report to the common rooms while Dumbledore called a huge meeting with all the teachers. It lasted for hours and everyone just sort of huddled in corners talking about it. Then McGonagall came in and told us that the entire school had to get down to the Great Hall and we did--and get this--barely any Slytherins were there. Most of them are barricaded in their dormitories and McGonagall told Hermione that she thinks they're too scared to come out, that everyone will think they put the mark up."

Harry frowned deeply. "They're not scared--they're just refusing to obey Dumbledore. They're making a statement."

"That's what I said--Hermione doesn't think so, of course. Anyway, Dumbledore stood up at the head table and told everyone that the school is on a--how did he say--"protective lockdown." No leaving the castle, all lessons are canceled until further notice and--no owl post. The owlery is closed up and the teachers put some sort of charms on all the windows so that nobody can open them to let any owls in--we can't receive any letters either. People were really sore--everyone wants to write home to get permission to leave, but Dumbledore said--and he looked really strict, almost furious--he said that everyone was still safer at Hogwarts than they would be anywhere else and that everyone "needs to have faith" or something like that."

Harry rubbed at his forehead. "What else did he say? How did you leave if security is so tight?"

At this Ron rolled his eyes. "Well, Dumbledore told Hermione that he was going to conduct another meeting with the teachers at midnight--all the prefects and Hermione and Justin had to go. I assumed Madam Pomfrey would be there, but nothing doing--she's still at her usual position guarding that door. I had to get Nearly Headless Nick to cause a diversion and it took so bloody long, I could have waited until the meeting was over with anyway so that Hermione could get us in here. She's aloud to roam the castle at night--although Dumbledore insisted she or Justin not to go off alone anymore."

Harry let out a long breath. "Where's Ginny?" he asked without thinking and the minute he said her name, he regretted it. Ron's face became guarded.

"She's asleep," he said shortly.

Harry stared blindly at the portrait on the opposite wall, not wanting to push Ron, but needing to know. "Dumbledore hasn't said anything to her about... the dreams?"

Ron paused before saying, "He wants to speak with her tomorrow morning."

Harry snapped his eyes to Ron's. "Yeah? Well... what's her take on it?"

Ron cracked his neck with a roll of his head and then stretched his back. "She doesn't know."

Harry narrowed his eyes in confusion. "Well, then how--?"

"Dumbledore gave Hermione the message to give to Ginny, but we haven't told her yet. We'll wake her up tomorrow with the news--let her have a sleep without wondering what it's all about."

Ron's eyes shifted to the window and Harry followed his gaze, his stomach in knots about what Dumbledore wanted with her. Harry looked back at Ron and thought that he didn't even know what Ron thought about it. They had avoided the subject altogether since discussing it the morning that Madame Maxime...

"What do you suppose it means?" he abruptly asked Ron, trying to shake off the stab of grief at the thought of

Hagrid. "These dreams...?"

"How would I know?" Ron asked and Harry heard an edge to his voice.

"Well... what do you think?"

He turned and looked Harry in the eye. "I don't think it's fair... why does it have to be her? She had to be the one to write to that stupid diary, and now she has to suffer the consequences. Why?"

Harry looked away. He felt as if Ron was somehow accusing him of something... It was stupid, and Ron would never blame Harry for any of it, but that didn't stop the pang of guilt.

Ron stood up then, looking almost defeated. "I'd better get back."

Harry got to his feet as well. They needed to talk about this before things became any more uncomfortable. "Wait a minute. There's things we have to talk about--"

"I've told you everything, Harry. Unless there's something you need to tell me...?" Ron let his question linger with a skeptical expression on his face, but Harry knew the meaning behind his tone.

After a second of the two boys regarding each other, Ron let out an amused breath. "That's what I thought. Why talk to me when you'll be seeing my sister again tomorrow? You can talk to her about it all..."

"It's not like that," Harry said automatically.

"Then, what? What is it like?"

Harry knew he'd better come up with an answer or Ron would leave so he said the first thing that came to mind.

"Ginny was just... there," he fumbled. "I didn't... I never asked her to- "

"There?" asked Ron, an incredulous look on his face. "She was there? And where was I, then? On a bloody holiday?"

The guilt multiplied... but he couldn't help feeling a little angry as well. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? Not everything is about

you--"

"That's right--nothing is about me, Harry. Nothing. Hermione was in danger more than once this year--and I couldn't do anything about it--nor can I do anything to protect her now. My sister is having nightmares about the Dark Lord and she didn't even bother to fill me in on it... neither did you come to that. And you... you're going through bloody hell trying to protect the school. My entire family is off fighting, all my brothers, my father and here I am doing nothing, trying to keep things normal for Hermione, trying to keep my sister from being afraid and trying to--somehow--help you. And I have to say--it's not much fun, Harry."

Harry stared at Ron, trying to think of something to say to all this. But there was nothing--because Ron was right.

"Look, I'm not trying to start a fight when you have all this to worry about--"

"Don't say that," Harry snapped impatiently. "You're right--you're right about everything. I just don't know what you want me to do about it."

"I don't expect you to do anything, I just wish you'd tell me what's going on. Ginny... what is she to you?"

There it was. Harry had known it was coming the minute he'd resolved to talk to Ron about it all. Ron was watching him directly, waiting for an answer.

"I don't know what Ginny is to me," Harry said quietly, meeting his eyes. "I can barely figure out what I'm feeling for her, let alone know anything else."

"So... you do have... feelings for her?" Ron asked cautiously. He looked like he would rather talk about anything else, but needed to know this.

Slowly, Harry nodded. He wanted that to be enough, but somehow, he felt he owed it to Ron to say it out loud. "Yeah--Yes."

Ron swallowed audibly and expelled out a long breath. "Did you think that would make me sore?"

"Aren't you sore?" Harry demanded.

"Well, only because you didn't tell me!"

"Oh, come off it. You're saying that you wouldn't have been sore if I'd have come to you with this months ago?"

Ron looked exasperated. "Well... it would have been a shock and it would have been weird--it's still weird, come to that. But... bloody hell, mate, it would have been better than keeping quiet about it."

Harry let out a breath. "Sorry, then. I just didn't know what was going on--and I still don't--it's complicated and I don't know what I'm... thinking half the time."

To his surprise, Ron smirked. "I hear that."

At that moment, the door creaked open. Ron leapt over to the other bed and grabbed the Invisibility Cloak. He was properly covered by the time Madam Pomfrey was all the way inside, but Harry was left sitting upright on a fully made bed staring at a wall.

"What are you doing up?" she nearly shrieked. "It's the middle of the night! How do you feel--is your head still bothering you?"

"It's okay now--it feels a little better. I was just--"

"Well, get back in bed. Now. And don't look at that... thing. It's not good for you."

Harry rolled his eyes and walked unsteadily back to bed. He had forgotten about the pain while he'd been talking to Ron, but now that he had nothing to occupy his mind, it seemed to swell a little. Harry climbed into bed and closed his eyes against it. When Madam Pomfrey left, insisting on him going to sleep, Harry opened one eye said into the darkness,

"Ron?"

He was met with silence and he glanced at the floor where Ron had thrown the cloak over himself. He must have left when Madam Pomfrey had been fussing about. Harry yawned and felt his eyelids drooping and the minute his head hit the pillow again, he fell into sleep.

~*~

It was rather late in the afternoon the next day when Harry managed to wake up. He thought groggily that something was wrong--and then he knew. His eyes fell on the window across the room and instead of green light pouring through; it was a bright white cast--the sun. Harry dashed over to the window, the pain in his scar still very tangible. He looked out at the tree and his heart filled with hope. The Mark was gone... gone...

Right on cue, Madam Pomfrey came bustling in, a large, simmering potion in her hand. "You have to take this," she said sharply, noting Harry by the window. "Now."

"Is it really gone?" he asked her. "The... Mark?"

Madam Pomfrey looked at him. "No, it's still out there. It's moved higher now, you won't see it from where you are."

"Higher?" Harry asked, taking the potion and sniffing it--it was a Pepperup. He downed it in two gulps.

"Yes... It's above the castle now."

His hope vanished in an instant. Above the castle... "I have to see the Headmaster."

Madam Pomfrey looked at him closely and Harry could tell she knew she had no choice.

"I'm fine," Harry reassured her. "Really."

The potion didn't do anything for the pain in his scar, but his limbs were no longer stiff from sleep and his head wasn't so foggy.

"Very well," she said at last. "I'll escort you."

"You don't have to--"

"Yes, I do. You can shower and change--your friend brought a set of clean robes for you."

It occurred to Harry that the entire staff had probably been instructed not to let him go anywhere alone. He sighed inwardly, but knew he was better off for it.

After showering and changing, Harry followed Madam Pomfrey up to Dumbledore's office. He passed the passageway he would normally take up to Gryffindor Tower, and Harry paused for a moment, remembering the meeting between Ginny and Dumbledore. He wanted to seek out Ron or Ginny, but a sharp twinge in his scar forced him back to present time. He needed to see Dumbledore strait away--there was no waiting.

Dumbledore's light eyes met his as Harry stepped into the circular room. He inclined his head.

"I was just about to send for you, Harry. Thank you, Poppy." After Madam Pomfrey closed the door behind her, Dumbledore looked at Harry intently. "Tell me what's worrying you."

It was an odd question and Harry wanted to laugh--what wasn't worrying him? However, from the look on the Headmaster's face, Harry knew that Dumbledore was giving him the opportunity to let it all out.

"I don't know if I'm going to be able to do it," he blurted without thinking. "I mean, if only looking at the Dark Mark does this to my scar, what will happen if I have to face him? What will happen if I can't concentrate hard enough because of the pain, or worse--what if I pass out?"

Harry said all this in a rush, leaving himself almost breathless. Every insecurity built up inside him until all he could do was look at Dumbledore, his eyes pleading.

Dumbledore sat up in his chair and leaned forward, his own eyes looking very harshly into Harry's. Not for the first time, Harry felt a steadfast power glowing in them.

"You award yourself far less faith than you deserve, Harry," Dumbledore said in a low voice. "In all your years under my guidance you have yet to disappoint me. I have faith in you--I trust you. You are more than prepared for what is to come--it is now time for you to appreciate this--and use it to your advantage."

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and turned to look out the window--the Mark was visible from inside his office and the vision was an absolute nightmare. The gray stone of the castle was lit with a sickly green glow as the mark, now much bigger and brighter floated above it like a ghost.

Dumbledore spoke softly. "The Dark Mark is ironically a very precious gift to you, Harry. Use it. Use it to your advantage." Then his eyes met Harry's. "Use it to help you."

Harry swallowed, his throat very dry. "I should... look at it then...?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Very frequently. Make yourself available to it... feel the pain it brings you and learn from it. If you find yourself losing confidence, think about this: You have an advantage over Lord Voldemort, Harry. The minute your blood began to seep through his veins, you became his equal--in power and in strength."

Harry frowned, confused. "What do you mean, I've an advantage?"

"When Voldemort tried to kill you as a baby, his powers became yours and when you helped to bring him to life three years ago, your powers became his... only his scar is unseen. It lives inside of him... as it lives in you. It will surface if and when he is close to you."

Harry stared. "You mean ... Voldemort..."

"He will be affected by you as you are affected by him, Harry."

Harry shook his head, unable to believe it that Voldemort would suffer as Harry did when they were close. "But his powers are far more advanced than mine, he can certainly find a way round it...?"

Dumbledore leaned forward again. "I shall repeat what I said--you award yourself far less faith than you deserve, Harry. If he can find a way, so shall you," his eyes flickered to window and then back to Harry with a flash of triumph shining in them. "And I am rather certain that Lord Voldemort does not expend his time or his resources on that particular obstacle."

As Harry stared up at Dumbledore he remembered a night three years ago, when they'd been sitting in this very office. He had showed Dumbledore where Wormtail cut his arm and had had to relive the entire night. He also remembered the many times he had sat in this office, seeking advice, or just comfort... and Dumbledore had never failed him once. Suddenly Harry had a great fear realized. He looked up at the Headmaster and held his gaze.

"I don't want to disappoint you, Professor... I'm scared I... I won't be able to do this."

Once again, Dumbledore leaned forward and his eyes burned into Harry's.

"All I have for you is loyalty, Harry. And that shall remain so no matter what the outcome. You need to have faith in yourself and what you can accomplish. Nothing will be possible if you don't."

Harry felt his throat clog up and, after a brief pause, he nodded.

Dumbledore sat back then and in a business-like tone, he continued. "There is something else I need to discuss with you, Harry. It regards Ginny Weasley."

Harry's spine went up.

"With the mark over the castle, and from what my sources tell me... I did not want to resort to this and I have been hoping to hold off as long as possible, but time is short. We need to move very quickly."

"What does that mean?" Harry demanded hoarsely.

"Miss Weasley has knowledge of situations or places we may need to know about. Unfortunately she cannot access this information without assistance. As I said, time is short and we need the information now. There is a potion called Venenum Sopor that is designed to close down the mind and open the subconscious. The person under the influence of the potion can access parts of the subconscious that is otherwise hidden. Miss Weasley will need to be put into this state so we can gather the information we need from her."

Harry started at the Headmaster. "Is this...? I mean will she... be okay?"

Dumbledore looked very seriously at Harry. "There is a risk involved, Harry. She knows this, as does her family, but as I said, we have to move quickly."

"Risk?" Harry asked, finding it suddenly difficult to breath.

"There is a time limit where this potion is concerned. I'm not worried that we will pass the time limit, however the length of time in which the mind undergo this state and not...suffer damage varies from person to person."

Harry swallowed. His heart was racing with a kind of panic that until now was foreign to him. "Is there any way round this? Can we just...?"

He broke off, knowing that there was no other way. The Dark Mark was rising over Hogwarts now and something had to be done.

"If there was another solution, I would have already acted on it, Harry. You will need to hear first-hand the information we gather, Harry, so you must be there during the process. Professor Snape will be administering the potion to her, and I will be there, of course. Do you have any questions, Harry?"

He stared wearily at Dumbledore and shook his head faintly. The only question he had was, "why?" He knew Dumbledore wouldn't have the answer to that any more than Harry himself did.

There was a knock at the door and Harry turned to see Professor Snape standing in the doorway.

"It is ready, Headmaster."

Dumbledore stood swiftly and Harry did the same.

"Miss Weasley?" he asked Snape.

"She is waiting in the hospital wing with her brother."

"Administer the potion, Severus. Allow Mr. Weasley to stay as you do. We will wait until she is already sedated before entering."

Snape left with a nod.

"Let us go down, Harry. But first..." Dumbledore went to his cabinet and pulled out a very old-looking quill, it's plum feather swinging in the wind unnaturally, along with a thick roll of parchment. "This quill is intended to record information making use of all the senses--sound, site, smell. It can read fear or joy or most any genuine emotion. It has come in very useful at times." Then to Harry's surprise, Dumbledore's mustache quivered. "I must say that if Remus Lupin were to discover I have this in my possession, he would be quite furious. I forced him to document each and every training session by hand."

Clapping his own hand on Harry's shoulder, they left the room.

To Be Continued...

The Hidden Tower