Harry Potter and the Power the Dark Lord Knows Not

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CHAPTER THREE

THE LETTER

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"But Harry," Hermione exclaimed, "how do you know what's in the prophecy? Neville said it got broken."

"Dumbledore. Dumbledore was the one who heard the prophecy in the first place, and he told me what it said last June," Harry answered.

"It was about you and You-Know-Who, wasn't it, Harry? What did it say?" Ron asked, cautiously. He looked like he wanted to know but was slightly afraid of what Harry's answer might really be.

"It said..." Harry hesitated. This was turning out to be harder than he thought. Harry looked down at his hands, "It went something like... 'the one who can defeat Voldemort will be born at the end of July to parents who had escaped him three times,'" Harry paused. Ron and Hermione were almost perfectly still, except when Ron winced slightly as Harry had said Voldemort's name. "It said, 'Voldemort would mark him as an equal, but that he... he would have power that Voldemort doesn't,'" Harry's last words felt as if they were ripped from him rather than spoken, "'and.... and that one of them will have to... will have to die so the other can live,' in the end."

A dreadful silence followed Harry's last words; he was still looking at his hands. Harry hadn't talked at all about the prophecy since Dumbledore had told him about it last June. Saying the prophecy out loud and in his own words had brought the truth of it home to Harry in a way that nothing else could have.

"But... but what does that mean... exactly?" Ron stuttered, sounding fearful.

Harry suddenly felt very tired and much, much older than his barely sixteen years. He looked up at Ron and Hermione. While Harry had been talking, they had slid very close to one another. Their arms were touching, but their facial expressions were quite different. Hermione looked completely horrified, while Ron looked slightly incredulous, but pale.

"It means that my... well, Dumbledore said that my life and Voldemort's are linked. I guess at some point we'll have to meet again and that one of us will have to... will have to kill the other one...." Harry explained hoarsely, his throat was suddenly quite dry.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione squeaked, as she put her head in her hands.

After a few moments, Ron stammered, "No... it couldn't possibly mean that..."

"It does..." Harry said heavily.

"You mean.... you and You-Know-Who have got to fight each other...." Ron paused, he apparently couldn't bring himself to say it.

"To the death... yeah," Harry concluded, hopelessly, looking away from them again. All three of them then became very quiet. Harry felt completely drained; it was as though he was slowly being sapped of all his energy and strength as he carried the weight of the entire world on his shoulders. Ron and Hermione were still too stunned to move.

"But somehow you can beat him.... right, Harry?" Ron asked eventually, grasping for straws.

"Yes, Harry," Hermione said, looking up at him, "The power that Voldemort doesn't have.... you can still win," she paused. "Did Dumbledore say what that power was?"

Harry didn't answer. He hadn't anticipated how difficult it would be to talk about this again. All this talk of the prophecy was reminding him of how he had felt the night that Sirius had been taken from him, and once again Harry felt a deep spasm of pain that had nothing to do with the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. Harry swallowed. When he looked up at them again, he realized he'd been holding his breath without meaning to. He let it out rather unevenly and tried to say something, but Harry honestly didn't know what else to say.

Suddenly Hermione whispered desperately, "But Harry, what are you going to do?"

"I dunno," Harry whispered sadly, and then exhausted to his very core, lay back down on the bed. If someone had told him a few years ago that his sixteenth birthday would take place away from Privet Drive and amongst the people he'd spent the happiest times of his life with, Harry never would have thought it possible that the day could then end this miserably.

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Later as he lay restlessly in bed listening somberly to Ron's snores and the quiet stillness of the warm summer's night outside, Harry didn't really know how he felt about his life. He was at least able to take some solace in the fact that Ron and Hermione now knew about the prophecy. Harry still felt desperately alone and separate from everyone else, but sharing the horrible knowledge of the prophecy with them had made him feel as if the burden wasn't quite as heavy as before. Ron and Hermione were two of the most important people in Harry's life; they were his first and best friends, and they had always been there when he had needed them most. Though he could scarcely even think about it, without them in his life he knew he would feel even more lost than he already did. With that last thought Harry drifted off into a fitful sleep.

He was walking down the hallway at Grimmauld Place - Ron and Hermione were leading him somewhere - they kept looking furtively back at him as they gestured for him to follow. Harry wondered why they were not speaking to him, but then pushed that thought aside as they reached a door with a serpent-shaped doorknob at the end of the hall. They motioned for him to go inside first.

As Harry opened the door, though, it was not Grimmauld Place anymore but the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts. Harry turned around to look for Ron and Hermione, but they had disappeared from his side. As he entered the room it looked just like it had during their D.A. meetings last year. Harry saw movement from out of the corner of his eye and turned.

Something dark was huddled in the shadows, and he started to edge toward it. "Oh my God, it's Sirius," Harry realized. Sirius was bound and tied, struggling viciously against his bonds, but definitely alive. "SIRIUS!" Harry shouted as he ran towards his godfather to untie him. But just as he got there, Sirius turned into Ron and Hermione. They were now bound and tied back to back in the same bonds that had been holding Sirius.

Just then Harry heard an eerie, horribly familiar high-pitched laugh coming from directly behind him. As Harry spun around, the hair on his arms and back of his neck raised as though he were standing on ice, while his scar ignited like a flame. Voldemort was now pointing his wand at Ron and Hermione. "Crucio!" he said in an evil cackle, devoid of all human emotion. Ron and Hermione screamed piercingly through their gags, their bodies crumpled limply together as their eyes streamed in pain.

Without taking any time to think of the consequences, Harry immediately flew at Voldemort. Voldemort turned his wand on Harry, but instead of using an Unforgivable Curse, he cried "Immobilus," instead. Harry was frozen stock-still a few feet away, unable to move or speak. His best friends were screaming in agony and there was now nothing he could do about it. Voldemort turned back to Ron and Hermione who were still bound together upon the floor. They looked pleadingly at Harry as Voldemort again raised his wand. Harry, still under the spell's influence, couldn't move no matter how hard he tried. Voldemort yelled, "AVADA KEDAVRA!" as a green light sped towards Ron and Hermione's horrified faces ....."

"No .... NO ..... NOOOOOOOO!"

Back at Grimmauld Place Harry Potter awoke tearing violently at his bedclothes, he was screaming and flailing uncontrollably as his scar seared and burned.

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Ron, Hermione, Lupin, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and Ginny were all stationed outside Harry's door in their night things. Dumbledore had come straight to headquarters after being notified; he had actually Apparated right to Harry's side. Nobody was quite sure of what had happened.

When Harry started screaming Ron had been unable to wake him, so he called for help, horror-struck. Everyone in the house was already on their way, though, having been awakened by the terrible noise of Harry's panicked voice. Harry had been beside himself with terror; initially it had taken some time to get him calmed down - he'd still thought he was at Hogwarts and that Ron and Hermione had literally been murdered. Even when Harry finally did start to come to his senses, he couldn't keep from shaking. Wanting to gain control of the situation, Dumbledore had asked everyone to leave him with Harry for a moment, but Harry had then panicked when they all got up to leave. Harry was feeling dizzy and horribly nauseous, his scar was searing with pain even now, and it had felt as though he'd really been there - like they had all been there. Harry just wanted to look at Ron and Hermione once more to reassure himself that it wasn't true, that they were both okay.

A short time later after he and Dumbledore were alone, Harry was continuing to feel horribly unnerved and jittery; he couldn't help but believe that this nightmare was more than just a bad dream. Harry told Dumbledore everything, including how powerful and intense it had all seemed, while holding his forehead in one of his trembling hands. Harry's pulse was still racing when Dumbledore sat down next to him on the bed. Dumbledore placed a hand on Harry's shoulder before he spoke.

"Voldemort may be causing you to have these dreams, Harry, as an extension of the visions he has already sent to you," Dumbledore explained directly in his calm voice. "I believe he may be sending you these dreams to try to break into your mind and destabilize it."

"You mean he's trying to make me go mad?" Harry asked, panicking slightly.

"It is possible," Dumbledore said quietly, "Harry, I want you to do your best to empty your mind before you go to sleep at night - every night. I shall begin to work with you as soon as we get back to Hogwarts, but in the meantime you must do your best to clear your mind."

"Yes, sir," Harry mumbled, shivering, as he looked down at his mangled bedclothes. He had actually managed to rip one of his blankets as he had violently thrashed about in his bed earlier.

"It will be all right, Harry, we will find way to stop this," Dumbledore said reassuringly as he got up to leave.

As Dumbledore left he sent Ron back in and told everyone that Harry was going to be fine and to try to go back to sleep. As Harry lay in bed continuing to shiver feverishly, Ron was setting something down on the dresser in the corner. When Harry glanced over at him again, however, he discovered that Ron was standing right next to him. "Here," Ron offered, "Mum made you some tea." As Harry tried to hold the cup steady enough to take a sip, Ron sat on his own bed again. "It's going to be okay, Harry ... honestly," Ron said soothingly. "We'll figure this out." Harry nodded silently. He felt greatly comforted by the fact that Ron had basically repeated what Dumbledore had just told him without realizing it. It meant a lot that his best friend did not think him a raving lunatic - even if Harry wasn't quite so sure of it himself.

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The next morning Harry awoke to hear Ron throwing owl treats to Hedwig and Pigwidgeon; he was already dressed. "Harry," Ron said in a quiet voice as he slowly walked back over to the beds, "I just wanted to tell you.... well, Hermione and I have been really worried about you, mate...." he paused. Harry had just put on his glasses and was pulling himself out from under his torn bedclothes. "It's just that we wanted you to know, I dunno, that we're here for you," Ron continued, "if you need to talk or anything, you know..... whatever you need."

When Harry remained silent, Ron asked, "Are you coming downstairs, then?"

"Yeah sure, in a minute, okay," Harry murmured, his head still down. "Oh, and Ron..... thanks." Harry only looked up after Ron had shut the door to their room. He was still feeling a bit shaken in the wake of the horrible images he had witnessed last night - he had slept only intermittently, fearful of lapsing into the same terrifying dream again. Harry knew that Ron was trying to help him, but at the moment he felt quite beyond help.

Slowly, Harry got up and make his way over to his trunk to change. As he pulled some wrinkled clothes out of the bottom he saw the remnants of Sirius' mirror glinting up at him. As he took the broken shards and laid them on the mirror-backed dresser, Harry glanced up and caught a fleeting glimpse of his reflection. He then stopped, staring.

Harry took a good long look at himself in the mirror, it had been a while since he had done so. Harry barely recognized the person who was staring back at him. He was unmercifully pale and thin; his scar bright red on his forehead. Harry's untidy black hair was messier than he could ever remember seeing it, and he had dark gray circles under his eyes. Even though Harry had grown a bit taller - his pajamas were definitely a few inches too short now - he felt small, insignificant. Harry looked down at his hands, they were still holding onto the shattered mirror. As he turned them over, Harry could see the faint outline of "I must not tell lies," that he had been forced to etch into the back of his hand by Umbridge, a harsh reminder of what he'd had to deal with last year. He wondered idly how many more scars he would be carrying around when this was all over, if I survive at all, Harry thought to himself, despairingly.

After a few moments of despondence, however, Harry shook his head violently as if to dispel these dark thoughts. "What are you doing?" Harry asked his reflection. He stood peering at himself in the mirror as he listened to the rumble of voices and the clanking of dishes downstairs. Harry had suddenly realized that he had to stop himself from falling even deeper into the well of despair he was now in. He must dig himself out somehow, no matter how difficult it was to do. He had to fight not only his own misery, but also his nemesis. Harry had to defeat Voldemort, to rid the world of him once and for all. At that moment Harry knew what he had to do; he had made his decision. He was going to do the only thing that he could do; he was going to fight.

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Over the next few weeks of the holiday, Harry felt much calmer as he held tightly to his firm resolve. Every night before bed he strove as hard as he could to empty his mind of all thought and emotion as Dumbledore had instructed. This was sometimes more difficult to do than at other times, but so far Harry had experienced no more terrifying nightmares involving losing those he cared about the most. Harry had caught Ron, Hermione, and even Ginny sneaking furtively anxious looks at him when they thought he wasn't looking; and partially because of this, Harry endeavored to be as productive as possible - he found he felt more stable if he stayed busy. He worked on his homework, which he had been entirely too preoccupied to do until now anyway, and then volunteered to help Mrs. Weasley with any housekeeping chores she was willing to set him.

Finally, when the last day of the holidays had arrived, Harry found himself eager to get back to school. He hoped that Dumbledore had been able to find a competent Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher this year. Harry felt that the more he could learn now, the more confident he would feel when he faced Voldemort again. Though he certainly didn't feel happy about it, Harry had still tried his best to accept the prophecy and everything that it had meant ever since telling Ron and Hermione about it the month before - he didn't want to feel that unprepared ever again.

The next day, though, as Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny sat in their compartment onboard the Hogwarts Express - Ron and Hermione had just returned from their prefect duties - Harry gazed silently out the window unsure of how he really felt about returning to school. The last year at Hogwarts had been so wretched for Harry that as he spotted the turrets of the castle poking through the fog in the distance, he found that he had a slight case of the nerves.

"Well, it can't be any worse than last year, can it?" Ron said, as if reading Harry's mind. Hermione gave Ron a quelling look, though, as she picked up Crookshanks and looked over at Harry.

"Oh Harry, this year has to be better," she said, forcefully. "For one thing, that Umbridge woman is gone," Hermione continued, wanting to raise Harry's spirits. Hermione and Ron had both been sneaking surreptitious glances at Harry as he peered out the window restlessly. Harry had been unusually quiet during the trip as the stark memories from last year had chased each other around endlessly in his mind. Ginny, too, had kept a close eye on him ever since the train had pulled out from King's Cross Station that morning. "I'm sure that'll make all the difference," Hermione said, looking pointedly at Ron, apparently hoping he would help her to ease Harry's anxiety. Unfortunately, Ron totally missed Hermione's cue.

"Unless Fudge has decided to put another evil Ministry hag in her place, that is," Ron put in darkly, a worried frown covering his freckled face. Harry frowned, too.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that," Ginny spoke up suddenly, looking at Harry.

"Why not?" Ron and Hermione both asked at the same time.

"Well...." Ginny grinned rather impishly at the three of them, "Fred and George saw fit to lend me some Extendable Ears for the summer."

"What did you hear?" Ron wanted to know.

"One night when Mum and Dad thought we were all in bed, they started whispering down in the dining room with the door open," Ginny explained. "I heard them say that Dumbledore had already filled all the posts at school for this term and that he wasn't allowing Fudge or the Ministry within a mile of Hogwarts this year," Ginny stated, matter-of-factly.

"Good," said Harry, speaking for the first time the entire trip. "One less thing to worry about." He saw Ron, Hermione, and Ginny give each other a look before glancing back at him as the train started to slow down. Harry Potter, for good or ill, was back at Hogwarts once again.

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As Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny clambered up the stone steps of the entryway and into Hogwarts Castle, Harry noticed that the fog outside was giving the windows in the upper towers a mystical glittering glow. Once inside, the Great Hall also reflected the fog swirling outside as Harry sat down at the Gryffindor table. Dumbledore and many of the teachers were sitting up front at the staff table as usual, and the resident ghosts of the school were glowing bright silver in various spots throughout the room. This almost feels normal again, Harry thought, trying to relax.

The doors to the Hall opened more once, admitting Professor McGonagall and tiny Professor Flitwick along with a number of very small nervous-looking first years. Professor McGonagall didn't lead them to the front, but instead walked toward the Gryffindor table and spotting Harry, headed towards him. As Professor Flitwick proceeded to the front with the first years, Professor McGonagall bent over Harry and whispered, "I need you to come with me to my office, Potter. It will only take a moment," Professor McGonagall said to quell Harry's sudden look of trepidation. "Something has arrived for you."

As Harry and Professor McGonagall departed quietly, he noticed that many more smiles and waves were aimed in his direction than he had experienced last year. Now that it was common knowledge that Voldemort was indeed amongst them once more, Harry was seen as being rather heroic by many in the school, especially by his own House. And although this support had meant absolutely nothing to him at the end of last year, now Harry felt somewhat comforted by it - it was certainly better than being reviled and mistrusted. Harry wondered what could have arrived that wasn't being brought to him directly by his own Hedwig, but before he could ask Professor McGonagall, she rapidly ushered him inside her office. Once there, she carefully closed the door behind them.

"Have a seat," Professor McGonagall instructed, in her businesslike demeanor. She opened a cabinet and pulled out a thick manila envelope. As she turned back to Harry, McGonagall's manner softened considerably.

"This is yours, Potter," she said gently, handing the envelope to Harry.

"What is it?" he asked.

"It's Sirius' estate, Potter, it's yours now," McGonagall answered, softly.

Harry was stunned. As he opened the envelope several thick pieces of parchment toppled out of it and onto his lap. The topmost page read:

I, Sirius Black, being of sound mind and body, do bequeath onto Harry James Potter, my godson, all my estate including all assets and securities of the Black family estate.

Harry gazed wide-eyed at the parchment. "Professor," he asked, "what does this mean?"

"It means that you are now the owner of Sirius' estate, including Grimmauld Place," she said, quietly. "Or you will be upon your seventeenth birthday, when you are of age."

"Sirius left the Black family estate to me?" Harry asked again, not taking a bit of it in.

"Yes," McGonagall repeated. "He considered you to be his heir, Potter. Sirius sat down with me last year at Grimmauld Place and formalized his wishes. He told me that he wanted to make sure that you would be all right... that he could be sure you would be taken care of if anything ever happened to him." Professor McGonagall's voice was now sounding rather raspy and as Harry looked up at her, he noticed that she was also looking slightly misty-eyed. After a brief silence, McGonagall turned and strode back towards her office door.

"Well, we really should be returning to the feast," McGonagall sniffed, her tone a bit more brisk. "It's getting late."

Harry nodded blankly but did not rise from the chair. McGonagall paused at the doorway and looked once more at Harry, her bespectacled and normally stern eyes showing the worry that Harry facing the other direction could not see. "Stay as long as you like," she added softly, and with that soundlessly shut the door behind her.

Harry couldn't believe it; Sirius had left his entire estate to him. After sitting thunderstruck for a few moments longer, Harry got up to go back to the feast, but as he got to the entrance and heard all the voices and clattering of china, he realized that he wasn't the least bit hungry. Harry wanted quiet and decided to go up to Gryffindor tower. Harry got all the way to the Fat Lady's portrait before he realized where he was. Just as he looked up at her, however, Colin Creevey came clambering out of the portrait hole. Colin seemed transported with delight at the sight of Harry standing there.

"Hi ya, Harry!" Colin beamed at him, almost running him over in his enthusiasm.

"Hi, Colin," Harry said numbly, his mind still on Sirius.

"I'm a prefect, Harry, do you believe it?" Colin gushed, pointing ecstatically to the new shiny red badge on his robes.

"Oh," said Harry, "great, Colin."

"The password is 'tiddlywinks,' by the way, so you know," Colin continued, practically bobbing up and down, his own excitement making him apparently oblivious to Harry's much darker mood.

"Thanks," mumbled Harry, eager to escape.

"See ya, Harry!" Harry heard from behind him as he quickly climbed in while the portrait was still open.

Harry was the only one in his dormitory as he sat on his four-poster bed holding the manila envelope. He pulled his curtains closed and poured out the rest of the contents on his mattress. Other than the will itself, most of it was very formal legal-looking documents that Harry made a mental note to ask Mr. Weasley about later, if necessary. One thing that fell out, however, was a small light blue envelope. When Harry turned it over, he saw his name written on the front - it was in Sirius' handwriting. Harry opened it frantically, wondering what Sirius had written to him.

Harry,

If you are reading this it means that I am no longer with you, and I am sorry because the last thing I would ever want to do is leave you alone. I feel very responsible for you - both for your well being and your happiness. You are so similar to your parents, Harry; you're adventurous and brave like your father, yet kind and sensitive like your mother. It has been such a joy getting to know you. You will be a much better man than I am, I think.

I know your life has been quite difficult at times, but you've always been strong enough to pull through - I'm counting on that strength to sustain you this time as well. That said, though, I don't want you dealing with all of this by yourself, Harry. A lot of people care about you - they care more than you probably even realize, so go to them whenever you need to - I know they want to help.

Please remember that your parents and I love you very much - we always have. Take care of yourself, Harry, and

become the great man you were born to be.

Sirius

A little while later Harry lay looking up at the canopy of his bed feeling thoroughly miserable. He felt like he was on an emotional roller coaster that he couldn't get off of. The letter Sirius had left him had brought forth powerful emotions that Harry just couldn't deny. He missed Sirius so much he felt like he would never feel whole or normal again. Just then, Harry heard Ron and Hermione as they came bursting into the dormitory calling his name. They suddenly stopped, though, when they saw that his curtains were drawn.

"Maybe he's asleep," Ron suggested, but only half-heartedly.

"Harry, are you all right?" Hermione asked, worriedly. "Did something happen?"

Harry grimaced and reluctantly opened a slit in his curtains. "I'm all right," he said in a muffled voice. Hermione came closer.

"What is it, Harry?" she asked, quietly. "Can you tell us?"

Harry sat up with a sigh and then tucked Sirius' letter back into the larger envelope. He slowly pushed the curtains all the way back from his bed and glanced over at his friends. "McGonagall showed me a package just now. That's all," he answered, just above a whisper. Harry could see Hermione standing a few feet away, but Ron was still standing further back as if hesitant to really look at him up close.

"What kind of package was it?" Ron asked cautiously, from across the room. Harry looked down at his bed before answering.

"It was from Sirius," Harry whispered softly. "It was his will. He's given me his estate."

"Wow," gasped Hermione.

"His estate?" Ron asked in much the same tone that Harry had used when talking to McGonagall a short while earlier.

"Yeah... " Harry mumbled. "He's left me everything, even Grimmauld Place."

Finally, Ron stepped closer as well. "But this is good news then, Harry. You can leave the Dursleys' now, if you want." Harry frowned, he hadn't thought of that. "Yeah, mate, you'll never have to see them again," Ron kept going, trying to cheer Harry up.

This information actually did make Harry feel a bit better. Harry had wanted to leave the Dursleys' ever since he had found out he was a wizard five years ago. He detested living with them; they had never shown even the remotest amount of affection for him. Harry had never been happy in their home; the Dursleys' had always made it clear that he wasn't wanted. Knowing that he would never have to return there was a great relief, and Harry felt some of the pain in his chest ease slightly. As he continued to look up into his friend's smiling faces, Harry's mood began to lighten. Maybe this really was good news like Ron had said. As his frown faded, Harry actually began to feel hungry and wished he hadn't missed dinner. Harry's stomach even growled audibly at the thought. Hermione suddenly jumped as though remembering something.

"Wait," she said, flying through the door, leaving Harry and Ron behind glancing at each other quizzically. When she came back, Hermione was holding a large cloth napkin that was almost overflowing with soft warm yeast rolls and steaming meat pies. Harry looked up at her, completely and pleasantly surprised. "I brought them to the common room just in case you were hungry," Hermione said with a wide grin. Harry took the napkin gratefully, feeling far better than he had in a long time.