Harry Potter and the Power the Dark Lord Knows Not

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CHAPTER TWO

TURMOIL AND TEST RESULTS

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    Before Harry could completely reorient himself from the spinning flames he was besieged by two very familiar voices. “HARRY!” Ron and Hermione yelled as they ran straight at him looking extremely pleased at his unexpected arrival. Hermione hugged Harry warmly then held him at arms-length looking at him critically as Ron smiled and said, “It’s great to see you, mate....”

    “Harry,” Hermione interrupted, “are you quite all right? You look kind of peaky,” she said sounding concerned and somewhat motherly, as a purring Crookshanks rubbed against Harry’s ankles.

    “I’m fine, actually,” Harry lied, as he attempted to lift a convincing grin to his face. Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, but before she could really say anything else Ron spoke up again.

    “Hermione relax. He’s back with us now,” Ron said soothingly. “Come back here, mate. Mum’s been on pins and needles waiting for you to get back,” he said, leading Harry to the dining room that also served as meeting room for the Order.

    As they walked along the hallway, Harry thought something seemed different and then it hit him. Sirius’ mother’s portrait was gone, as were all the other screeching portraits of the Black family that had once lined the entire entryway. Harry surveyed the empty length of hallway numbly for a moment, trying to ignore the dull ache that had just developed in his midsection. The last time Harry had seen these dark and familiar walls, Sirius had been here - he’d still been alive. Harry glanced over at Ron and Hermione and then swallowed rather self-consciously as he focused on the faded bare wall in front of him, touching the place where Mrs. Black’s portrait had once been.

    “How did you get them all down?” Harry asked. “I thought they had Permanent Sticking Charms on them.”

    “Well, Dumbledore and Hagrid managed after a couple of hours of Repelling Charms,” Hermione answered.

    “That,” Ron interjected, “and Hagrid reaching behind the frame and ripping it off the wall at the same time. That evil hag screamed the whole bloody time,” Ron finished, grimacing.

    “Hagrid was here?” Harry asked.

    “Yeah, he found a hidden place in the forest where he could keep Buckbeak now that Siri... er ... I mean,” Ron paused, looking anxiously over at Harry. “I mean... yeah, Hagrid was here, but he never stays very long. He seems really busy, you know. We’re not quite sure what he’s been up to.” There was an awkward silence as Ron seemed to be casting about for something more matter-of-fact to say. Ron glanced nervously at Hermione, but her facial expression had suddenly gone unhelpfully blank. Finally Ron said, “Buckbeak’s doing really good, though. Hagrid says he loves being back out in the open air of the forest again. And I’m sure it helps that he’s away from that nutter of a house-elf, too.”

    Harry looked around. Though Kreacher the house-elf was nowhere to be seen, Harry felt a stab of hot anger at the very thought of him. Kreacher had purposely lied about Sirius being at headquarters the night that he died, and Harry wasn’t really sure what he might do if he ever saw his vile little face again. Not only had Kreacher gone to the Malfoy’s and shared personal information about Harry with them, Kreacher had also hurt the hippogriff Buckbeak in order to keep Sirius too far away to hear Harry when he tried to contact him through the kitchen fire. Ron and Hermione were now eying Harry intently, and it was beginning to make him feel rather uncomfortable. More because he wanted to break the silence than because he really wanted an answer, Harry asked, “Where is Kreacher, anyway?”

    “He’s gone,” Hermione said, speaking softly.

    “What do you mean ‘gone?’ Where did he go? I though he was bound to the house,” Harry said, now feeling distinctly uneasy for some reason.

    “We’re not completely sure, Harry. Dumbledore just said that he’s not here. He could be anywhere - he may not even be alive anymore. Dumbledore thinks he may have gone back to the Malfoy’s,” Hermione finished in a small voice. Harry stared at Hermione in open disbelief.

    “But what about the Order? Can he break the Code of Secrecy?” Harry asked, quickly.

    “Dumbledore said he couldn’t,” Ron said hastily, but he didn’t sound entirely convinced.

    “You know, it might actually be better this way... ” Hermione began, but Harry, feeling outraged, rounded on her.

    “How could it possibly be better, Hermione? He could be doing absolutely anything right now - he could be telling them all of our secrets! And don’t say he has the right to be free. He’s not like other house-elves - he’s an evil little back-stabbing liar! He’s part of the reason that Siri... ” Harry broke off very suddenly, looking hastily away from the both of them.

    “I wasn’t going to say that, Harry, honest. That’s not what I meant at all,” Hermione whispered, looking upset. Harry’s heart seemed to have risen to his throat where it was beating quite frantically, hampering his ability to say anything else. All three of the them fell silent for a couple of long moments until Ron finally found his voice again.

    “Look Harry, that sick little house-elf deserves whatever he gets. We both feel the same way about him as you do,” Ron said decisively, throwing a sidelong glance at Hermione as if daring her to contradict him. “He’s mean and old and half-mad - he’s probably just gone off somewhere and snuffed it anyway.”

    Harry looked at Ron, feeling more than a little doubtful. He knew Ron meant well, but what if he was wrong? What if Kreacher wasn’t really dead and was spreading vital information to the most evil of sources? How could Harry honestly believe that there was any justice in this world at all - especially if Kreacher was still alive but Sirius was dead? Harry stopped himself abruptly at that last thought. He then felt his anger quickly drain out of him to be replaced with the same horrible emptiness that had plagued him ever since he’d seen his godfather disappear down in the Department of Mysteries last month. Harry couldn’t really care about where Kreacher was at the moment, anyway - all he knew was that the one person who should’ve been here wasn’t. Harry immediately turned away from Ron and Hermione’s anxious faces and stared determinedly at the worn wooden floor under his feet. Suddenly, Mrs. Weasley’s voice sounded from the next room.

    “Harry, is that you, dear?”

    Harry was glad of this interruption. Speaking of Kreacher just now had caused all of his emotions to bubble up dangerously close to the surface, and Harry wanted desperately to go back to the safe blanket of numbness he had enveloped himself in back at Privet Drive. As they walked through the kitchen doors and into the dining room, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Ginny ran up to them.

    “Oh Harry, it is you. It’s so wonderful to see you again... ” Mrs. Weasley began kindly, and then broke off rather hastily when she caught sight of Harry’s face. Her smile faltered for just a second, but then she said with a rather forced cheerfulness, “Well, I’m sure you’re hungry - just take a seat then, dear. Dinner will be on in just a moment.” Molly Weasley appeared to be a bit more on edge than usual - like she was under a great amount of strain and was trying very hard to conceal it. Arthur Weasley was looking much the same, but he shook Harry’s hand and clapped him stoutly on the back anyway as Ginny’s vivid red head then appeared next to her father’s.

    “Did the Muggles treat you right this summer, Harry?” she asked him, forthrightly.

    “Oh ... it was a bit better, sure,” Harry said evasively.

    Harry felt rather awkward as he looked at all the concerned faces peering at him in the dim light of the nearby candles. Harry appreciated everyone’s kindness, but he was beginning to feel the need to be alone again. The dull ache in Harry’s midsection was getting more and more difficult to ignore, and he wasn’t really sure if he could handle everyone fussing over him right then. Lupin had appeared behind Harry, Ron, and Hermione during this exchange and he seemed to sense Harry’s trepidation.

    “Let’s get your things up to your room first, Harry,” Lupin said firmly, steering Harry away from the others. When Ron and Hermione made to follow, Lupin diplomatically asked, “Could you two set the table and save Harry a seat? We’ll be right back down.”

    “Oh .... of course,” Hermione answered hesitantly. Ron glanced at Harry but when Harry didn’t completely meet his eyes, Ron shrugged. “Sure,” he replied, and took Hermione’s arm as he turned towards the silverware and plates.

    Lupin led Harry to the same bedroom he and Ron had shared last summer and laid Harry’s trunk at the foot of his bed. “I thought you might want a few minutes away from all the hustle and bustle,” Lupin said, smiling gently at him.

    “Er ... yeah, thanks,” Harry said, as he put Hedwig’s empty cage on the dresser in the corner.

    “Look, Harry,” Lupin began rather tentatively, “I realize that you’ve probably been by yourself a lot since ... well, since everything happened, but I wanted you to know that if you ever need to talk or anything....”

    Harry glanced carefully at Lupin, really taking in his appearance for the first time. Lupin was looking quite terrible just now, even worse than he had right after a full moon. Lupin’s robes were patched and frayed more than ever and his face looked drawn and rather gaunt, almost haunted. He looks like he’s just lost his best friend, Harry thought, without thinking. The hard lump rose sharply in Harry’s throat again as he caught himself.

    “Er ... thanks,” Harry said again, more gruffly than before. He quickly averted his eyes as he sat down rather heavily on his bed. Lupin had just turned as though leaving, but then he came back crouching down in front of Harry and looking up at him. For a brief moment, Harry met Lupin’s eyes. He was shocked to see that they were now brimming with unshed tears.

    “I know better than anyone how you must be feeling right now, Harry. I know how difficult it is to be in this house without him here....” Lupin’s voice broke. Lupin paused then, staring down at the moth-eaten carpet as he tried to pull himself together. Suddenly, he cleared his throat and stood up again heading for the door. As Lupin stopped at the threshold, he looked back at Harry painfully, his eyes slightly red. Lupin then took a deep and rather ragged breath as he slowly vacated the room, leaving Harry sitting alone once more.

    Harry’s eyes darted quickly around the gloomy confines of the bedroom. Other than being a bit cleaner, everything looked much as it had last summer. The blank canvas bearing the portrait of Phineas Nigellus appeared to be genuinely empty; Harry couldn’t hear any sniggering. The lump in his throat was also turning into a burning behind his eyes and nose; it was as though the deep grief evident in Lupin’s prematurely-lined face had set off an unstoppable chain reaction. Harry sat breathing very fast, trying to stave off the horrible torrent of emotion that was now threatening to engulf him.

    Harry hastily got up attempting to distract himself by unpacking his trunk when his eyes alighted upon two items in quick succession. Somehow during his spinning journey here, Sirius’ broken mirror had gotten shuffled next to the photo album of Harry’s parents. The album had bounced open yet again to reveal the wedding picture of Lily and James. Next to them as always was the young handsome Sirius, laughing joyfully in eternal but empty happiness. Harry froze, feeling rooted to the spot. His breath then stuck in his throat as he found himself staring first into his godfather’s face and next into the shattered surface of the mirror that might have saved him. His vision began to blur as his mind filled suddenly with unanswerable questions. Why had all of this happened? Why hadn’t he been able to see through Voldemort’s deception? Why did Sirius now have to be dead?

    Blindly, Harry sank back onto his bed. As Harry sat there in the house where his godfather had lived only a few weeks before, he began to remember just how unhappy Sirius had been here, he knew his godfather had felt trapped in this place - first, because everyone had mistakenly believed him to be a murderer; and second, because his very dismal childhood had been spent under this exact same roof. This thought, though, only served to make Harry’s heart ache worse than ever and every sad memory, every feeling of loss he had ever experienced then forced itself into his mind, acutely reminding him of what he no longer had.

    As silent tears began to slide unbidden down Harry’s cheeks, images from his life flashed unceasingly before his eyes. He saw the door slam shut as Uncle Vernon locked him in his cupboard, he saw his parents waving unreachably from the Mirror of Erised, he saw the gouged-out eyes of the basilisk and then Riddle’s callous smile, he saw the swarming darkness of a hundred dementors charging towards him, he saw Cedric’s perfectly still body as he lay dead upon the ground, he saw a moaning Wormtail as he clutched his bloody stump of an arm to his chest, he saw the Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries as they began to encircle him and his friends - blocking their escape.... And finally, terribly, he saw Sirius -- the first minute Sirius was dueling, and the next he was slowly but endlessly falling. Harry saw his godfather pass through that tattered black veil over and over again in his mind, and each time nothing more than a brief flutter ever bothered to mark his passing.

     Everything that he had seen began to swirl around and around in his head until Harry’s silent tears became anguished sobs, the sound reverberating miserably against the walls of the darkened bedroom. As Harry finally allowed himself to mourn the only parent he had ever truly known, the guilt and sorrow completely overwhelmed him; never in his life had he felt this alone. Time seemed stop as the tremendous despair continued to tear through him; he became unaware of anyone or anything else around him. The disconsolate form of a very grief-stricken Harry Potter now lay atop of the covers of his bed, releasing wave after wave of deep unyielding sadness. After a long time, thoroughly distraught and exhausted, Harry gratefully fell into a deep sleep.

    ...A few moments after Harry’s mind had finally drifted into a blissful slumber, two bedraggled forms appeared in the doorway. They had been on their way to see why he hadn’t come down to dinner when they had heard Harry’s agonized sobs through the door. They had grimly waited outside the room until Harry had fallen silent. Now as Ron and Hermione stood in the doorway, they looked at their sleeping friend in helpless dismay. They slowly turned towards one another. Hermione’s eyes were full as she looked up into Ron’s sad face. Ron hugged her to him and held her for a moment. Eventually, he gently released her as they separated and then headed dejectedly to bed.

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    The next morning Harry woke to find a still sleeping Ron in the other bed. Hedwig was also now in her cage, Harry thought she must have arrived sometime after he had fallen asleep last night. Harry pushed his glasses onto his puffy face and left to go to the bathroom, hoping to go unnoticed. Once there, Harry got into the shower and let the warm jets of water wash over him. The horrible hollow ache in Harry’s chest had subsided a little after last night. His mind now felt a bit clearer. As Harry’s thoughts slowly began to drift to the image of Lupin’s sorrow-filled face from the night before, he realized that he wasn’t the only one who was trying to sort his emotions - Lupin seemed to be struggling as much as he was. And the worst thing about it was that Lupin really was by himself now - his closest friends were no longer with him. The first had died almost fifteen years before, the second had betrayed him and everyone else, and the third had disappeared through the veil only weeks ago.

    Horribly, Harry suddenly found himself wondering, what if I lost Ron and Hermione, but he changed that train of thought quite quickly as this had brought the lump back to his throat and the stinging sensation back to his eyes. Harry paused painfully, the thought was too unbearable. Harry threw cold water on his face as he abruptly dismissed it. “Get a hold of yourself,” he told himself sternly, as he left the bathroom.

    By the time Harry got to the kitchen everyone else was already up. Harry encountered Lupin first. Lupin looked somewhat better than he had, though his eyes were still shadowed with hidden emotion. Despite this, Lupin was still quick to give him an encouraging smile, which Harry was careful to return. It was as though an unspoken understanding had sprung up between them. As Harry began to peer around the room, he was surprised at who else he saw.

    “Professor Dumbledore,” Harry blurted. Harry hadn’t forgotten how Dumbledore had avoided him all last year, even looking away from him if they were in the same room together. Dumbledore was looking at Harry now, however, his calm blue eyes focusing directly on Harry’s bright green ones.

    “Good morning, Harry,” Dumbledore said serenely, as if the last year had not happened at all.

    “Er ... morning, sir,” Harry said slowly.

    Dumbledore gave Harry an appraising look as he continued. “I come bearing tidings for you, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Granger.” Dumbledore then carefully reached inside his emerald green robes and pulled out three small rolls of parchment, each emblazoned with the Hogwart’s Coat of Arms. Harry went to sit down by Ron and Hermione who had saved a seat for him at the table. Oddly, they seemed to be watching him even more closely than they had the previous evening.

    Mrs. Weasley passed a flagon of pumpkin juice down the table as Dumbledore handed Harry, Ron, and Hermione each a roll of parchment. “Well, open them, then,” Mrs. Weasley said, smiling. “Maybe it’s good news.” Harry tapped his wand on the sealed parchment to open it as Ron and Hermione did the same. What he saw made his heart beat more quickly.

    Dear Mr. Potter,

    This notice is to inform you of the results of your Ordinary     Wizarding Level tests     taken last June. These grades have been condensed and tabulated to reflect the     overall total of your theory and practical exams for each individual subject.     Thank you for     your participation.

    We are pleased to inform you that you have received OUTSTANDING     O.W.L.s in the following subjects listed below:

    * Care of Magical Creatures

    * Defense Against the Dark Arts

    * Herbology

    * Potions

    * Transfiguration

    You have also received the grade of Exceeds Expectations in the following     subjects:

    * Charms

    Along with the grade of Acceptable in this subject:

    * Astronomy

    You unfortunately failed to pass the following subjects listed below:

    * Divination

    * History of Magic

    Congratulations on the completion of your O.W.L.s. We look forward to seeing     you next term.

    Sincerely,

    Minerva M. McGonagall

    Deputy Headmistress

    Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

    Harry then looked up to see Ron and Hermione’s beaming faces. They were both smiling so brightly in fact, that Harry found himself wondering if he had only imagined their anxious looks from a minute ago. Hermione had received “Outstanding” in all of her combined theory and practical O.W.L.s, just as Harry had known she would. Ron was also quite excited. He had actually managed to get more passing grades than Harry had on his O.W.L.s - they had both failed Divination - but Harry was unperturbed by that news. I can’t believe I passed Potions, Harry thought to himself. The important thing was that Harry had now attained the proper O.W.L.s in the proper subjects to try to be an Auror; if he could pass his N.E.W.T.s next year, that is. This was far better news than he had expected, and he was actually able to produce some genuine smiles for the first time in weeks.

    Dumbledore had smiled benignly at all of them as well, letting his gaze linger on Harry for a few moments longer than anyone else. Later Dumbledore left, telling them that he would be back that evening to celebrate with them. True to his word, Dumbledore did indeed return a few hours later, and Harry was pleasantly surprised when Professor McGonagall appeared directly behind him. Professor McGonagall was unable to linger much past the cake cutting, but she still winked discreetly at Harry before leaving. Harry gave her a faint smile. It was she who had promised to help Harry become an Auror in the first place - even if it meant that she would have to tutor him personally. Harry had appreciated her staunch support more than she would ever know, especially as McGonagall had been careful to announce this information quite loudly right in front of Dolores Umbridge’s toad-like face a few months before.

    The celebration that evening was full of happy toasts and loads of Mrs. Weasley’s excellent cooking, and Harry had at first felt fairly content. As the night wore on, however, Harry’s feelings began to run rather bittersweet. When he had initially found out he had passed everything he’d wanted to pass, he’d been genuinely pleased, but now he couldn’t help but notice the conspicuous absence of his godfather from the proceedings. Everywhere Harry looked reminded him of Sirius; the table where they’d sat together awaiting news when Mr. Weasley was in St. Mungo’s, the pantry where Sirius had tried to allay Harry’s fears of becoming possessed by Voldemort, even the drawing room they had all decontaminated reminded him of his godfather. It was as if every memory of Sirius was a fresh reminder, reopening the same old wound.

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    How Harry made it through the next couple of weeks he didn’t know, the days all seemed to slide together. The thirty-first of July, though, Harry’s sixteenth birthday, brought an abrupt end to any monotony. A few people from the Order had gathered at headquarters for the occasion, and Dumbledore was once again in attendance as well. Harry had rather mixed feelings at having his headmaster’s attention on him once more. He had felt so angry and hurt when Dumbledore had ignored him all last year, and even though he now knew why, he still felt a bit battered over the whole situation.

    Ron, Hermione, and Mrs. Weasley were busy lighting the candles on Harry’s birthday cake while Lupin, Mr. Weasley, Tonks, Shacklebolt and Ginny set the table and put up decorations - Mrs. Weasley seemed unwilling to let Tonks too near the candles. Everyone was making quite merry when it happened. Harry had been very quiet, watching everyone else rather than participating much, and Dumbledore had asked to speak with him. Dumbledore had just finished wishing Harry a Happy Birthday off to the side when Harry suddenly cried out as his scar gave a terrific throb. It hurt so badly that Harry actually dropped the bottle of butterbeer he’d been holding and it made a bubbly mess as it splattered all over the floor. Seconds later, Harry found himself slumping on the carpet with his hands over his face while everyone rushed over to him, terrified. When Harry slowly removed his shaking hands from his now sweaty face he saw that Dumbledore and Lupin both had a hold of him. Lupin was looking worried; Dumbledore extremely grave.

    “What is it, Harry?” Lupin asked.

    “This can’t be good ... he’s very, very happy,” Harry gasped, wincing.

    “Who?” asked Lupin, startled - he’d never seen Harry like this. But it was Dumbledore who answered.

    “Voldemort,” he said calmly.

    Through squinting eyes, Harry began to look up at his circle of onlookers. What had been smiling faces were now very frightened and tense - all the happy chatter had ended abruptly and a sudden hush had fallen upon everyone in the room. Harry didn’t miss the grim look that passed between Shacklebolt, Tonks, and Mr. Weasley before they turned their gaze to peer back at him once more. Mrs. Weasley and Ginny were looking rather shaken, while Ron and Hermione appeared to be more worried than anything else as both of them then came up and stood directly behind him. Dumbledore’s face was set in a firm line.

    “Can you tell us anything more, Harry?” Dumbledore asked gently, after a moment.

    Harry gazed into those calm blue eyes and even though his reaction to them only a month before had been one of anger and even violence, for some reason they now had the opposite effect. Taking a deep steadying breath, Harry answered quietly. “I think more people have returned to him... he seems absolutely ecstatic,” he continued slowly, “I wouldn’t bet on those Death Eaters being in Azkaban anymore.”

    Like before, Harry couldn’t say how he knew this; he just did. It was similar to the flashes he had experienced last year - with no warning, Harry knew what Voldemort was feeling and was sometimes even witness to what he was seeing at that particular moment. It was not a pleasant experience. As the pain in his scar continued to sting angrily, Harry took a deep breath. He then experienced a horrible pang that had nothing to do with his forehead as he realized he’d been thinking he should tell Sirius about this, only to stop in his tracks a second later when he remembered that he could not.

    “I just want to lie down,” Harry muttered.

    “We’ll take him,” both Ron and Hermione volunteered, but then Dumbledore turned to Harry and kneeled next to him on the floor.

    “Might I have a quick word first?” he asked.

    “Yes, sir,” Harry answered, rather blearily.

    “Harry, I wish for you to begin Occlumency lessons again,” Dumbledore said.

    “But, Professor ....” Harry began, thinking of Snape.

    “I will be your teacher, Harry,” Dumbledore interrupted.

    “Oh ... all right, Professor. When?”

    “As soon as term begins. I am afraid I will not be able to be here with you often enough now if Voldemort and his followers are indeed becoming active again, but once we’re all back at school I will have more time. This is still of great importance for you. Meet me in my office after your classes our first day back. And Harry,” Dumbledore continued, “I want to know if this happens again.”

    As Dumbledore left, Ron and Hermione hauled Harry to his feet and steered him upstairs. All of them looked on anxiously as the three of them slowly disappeared up the staircase, everyone below remaining silent and watchful. Once in his and Ron’s bedroom, Harry lay weakly on his bed closing his eyes. The pain in his scar was less blinding than before but still there. Ron and Hermione were now sitting on either side of him. For a long time Harry felt only vaguely aware of their presence in the room. After a while, though, he opened his eyes and looked over at each of them - both of their faces were full of tension and anxiety. With a sudden stab of guilt, Harry realized that he had been shutting Ron and Hermione out ever since he’d come back. Harry also knew deep down that his friends were trying to understand what he was going through, even if they would never really know what it was like. Hermione spoke first.

    “Harry.... ” she began tentatively, then paused helplessly, looking over at Ron.

    “Look ... I’m sorry I haven’t been, well ... myself lately,” Harry answered hollowly, looking away from them and focusing on the empty canvas on the wall. For a few minutes all that they could hear was the occasional bump downstairs or the soft creaking of floorboards as the three of them fell silent once more. Hedwig and Pigwidgeon were both still asleep in their cages. The pain in Harry’s scar was now a dull ache.

    “I know it seems like I’ve been avoiding you two since I got back - I just...” Harry trailed off.

    “It’s all right, mate,” Ron responded quickly.

    “We understand, Harry,” Hermione agreed.

    “BUT YOU DON’T,” Harry said, much more loudly than he had intended. He sat up and sighed, calming himself. “I haven’t been completely honest with you.” Ron and Hermione simply waited, watching him steadily. Harry didn’t know that they had heard him grieving in his room that first night back. “There’s something I have to tell you.... ” Harry whispered. Without really being able to explain why, Harry now knew that the time had come to tell his two best friends about the prophecy.