Harry Potter and the Power the Dark Lord Knows Not

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CHAPTER TWELVE

A SUDDEN STORM

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Harry was awakened by the sound of the wind roaring violently against the windows of Gryffindor tower and as he blearily opened his eyes he saw what appeared to be a near-blizzard, the unusual warm trend had apparently given way to the fierceness of winter once more. He blinked rather slowly as his thoughts began to drift back to the previous day and night - Harry was glad that he and Ginny had gotten up to the castle when they had.

"Harry, get up. You're going to miss breakfast," Ron said from not too far off, evidently totally unconcerned with the abrupt change in weather conditions. Harry gradually began to turn over; he was still in the same position he had been in when he'd fallen asleep. As Harry groggily sat up rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Ron stopped lacing his shoe and glanced over at him. "Blimey Harry, you look awful. What time did you come to bed, anyway?" Ron asked.

"Oh, about f-four in the morning," Harry answered, trying unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn. Ron gaped at him, his eyebrows almost meeting his hairline. As Harry reached for his glasses, he noticed Ron's expression. "What?" Harry asked.

"What in the world were you doing until four in the morning? Not homework surely..."

"Er... no. Ginny was kind of down last night, so I thought I'd try to cheer her up by taking her on a walk alongside the lake - under Dad's old cloak, of course." Harry leaned closer to Ron as he dropped his voice conspiratorially, "And Ron, you won't believe what we saw."

As Harry told Ron about Snape and Moody's odd encounter, Ron listened intently as the look on his face changed from one of surprise to one of open curiosity. After a moment, though, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Let me get this straight. First, Snape acts weird in Potions - weirder than normal, I mean. Then he and Moody start having this bizarre little chat in the middle of the night, and now he's skiving off his own lessons when were only halfway through the term. Sounds more than a bit dodgy if you ask me."

Harry nodded, trying to determine just how much he should tell him. Harry didn't want to mention anything that might remind Ron of Percy again, especially since he seemed so much better than he had, but Harry also felt that Ron and Hermione both needed to know about this. Something quite unusual was going on with Snape, and he wanted their input on it. As Harry looked into Ron's face, he chose his words very carefully.

"Well... I found out that Snape's mother died recently. I can't help wondering if maybe that's why he's leaving," Harry said, cautiously.

"His mother died?" Ron asked, blankly.

"Or it could be something to do with the Order, I guess," Harry responded quickly, ready to change the subject if necessary. "What do you think?"

"I dunno," Ron said, frowning thoughtfully. "Why would Dumbledore send him on a mission for the Order right now? Snape's supposed to be teaching - I mean, it'd be a dead give away to anyone who might be keeping tabs on him, wouldn't it," Ron paused then, his eyes becoming slightly unfocused. "It's strange to think of Snape even having a mum, you know. I always reckoned he crawled out from under a great slimy rock somewhere - ugly face, greasy hair and all." After a brief pause, Ron blinked and focused back on Harry who was still sitting on his bed in his pajamas. "Harry, what are you doing? You'd better get dressed or we're not going to get to eat anything, and I'm starving. I swear I could finish everything at our table in one go."

As Harry began rushing into his robes, he grinned over at his best friend. The dark haggard look was nearly gone from Ron's features now, and he was beginning to look much more healthy and whole again. Ron's face did appear a bit more angular than it once had - he was undeniably thinner than his already lanky self, likely because he had gone off food almost entirely right after Percy had died. And sometimes when Harry glanced at him, he also thought that Ron seemed rather older somehow - like he'd aged about ten years or so since Christmas. Harry figured that was to be expected, though, he knew he often felt a lot older than sixteen himself. On the whole, however, Harry couldn't help feeling an overall sense of relief. After all, eating had always been one of Ron's favorite pastimes, and if he was this anxious just to get to breakfast again, Harry knew that he must definitely be on the mend.

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After breakfast as Harry, Ron, and Hermione clambered down the bitterly cold corridors and into the dungeons, Harry felt uncommonly expectant. He had never been through a Potions lesson without Snape - with the exception of his O.W.L. exam last year - and since he had proven that he was fully capable of finishing what he had started so long as Snape was absent, Harry was actually looking forward to his Potions class for once. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were still brewing the same Draught of Protection Snape had assigned right after Christmas, as it took four whole months of constant attention to mature properly. Just as the three of them were retrieving their partially formed concoctions from a nearby cabinet, Professor Moody came slowly ambling into the bitingly cold and dimly lit dungeon, his heavy wooden cane clunking dully on the hard stone floor.

Despite the chill Harry, Ron, and Hermione were each smiling with sudden glee. Malfoy had just spotted Moody and was gawping at him with his mouth open - his expression was both petrified and furious. Even though he didn't, Harry was greatly tempted to laugh out loud; the look on Malfoy's face was absolutely priceless. Harry found himself wishing that Ginny could see this; he knew she would love an opportunity to see Malfoy squirm. Moody was eying the grimy jars and their floating contents sitting upon the shelves along the dark walls of the room with great distaste as he limped towards the front of the dungeon.

"Place could use some light if you ask me," Moody grumbled under his breath, as he conjured some iridescent bubbles of light and sent them floating around the ceiling of the cavernous room.

The lights were very like the ones that Harry, Ron, and Hermione had seen in St. Mungo's, and the light level had abruptly increased somewhat dramatically - it even seemed a bit warmer that it had a moment ago. Harry gazed around the room; he had never seen Snape's dungeon as well lit as this before and the contents in everyone's cauldrons seemed to change color slightly under the warm glow of the flickering lights. The dungeon suddenly didn't seem near as forbidding or ominous anymore, either - it was all but welcoming. Moody seemed a bit more satisfied now that the dungeon was almost cheerfully bright, and he began to peer down at the class roster, pinning each student with a look from his magical eye as he matched the appropriate name with its owner.

"I understand from Professor Snape that this class is currently closely monitoring the Draught of Protection. Is that correct?" Moody asked in his gravelly voice.

"Yes, sir," responded most of the class.

"Well, that is a tricky one," Moody mumbled to himself, the corners of his mangled mouth lifting a little.

"And where, may I ask, is Professor Snape?" Malfoy asked with an air of hostility, attempting to sneer but not quite managing it. Moody set both eyes on Malfoy's pointed face and watched him piercingly until Malfoy wilted awkwardly.

"Well, Mr. Malfoy, I suppose you may. If he is able, Professor Snape will return before the final exams. If not, you'll get to spend some extra class time with me," Moody growled at him. Malfoy was unable to hide his complete horror at that idea, and as Moody continued, he narrowed his normal beady eye at him even more menacingly. "That'd be nice, wouldn't it, laddie?"

By the end of class, Harry was feeling positively joyful. Not only had Malfoy been put in his place in front of the entire class, but for once, Harry had not had to put up with Snape's hateful face while trying to brew this ridiculously complex potion. For the past three months they had been continually refining the Draught of Protection, and Harry had struggled constantly with getting it right. Harry had not had to deal with such a fiddly potion since they had brewed the Draught of Peace last year. Not only did it take four months to mature, it also required unwavering attention to every single detail. If at any given time the potion was not kept in very specific and perfectly blended proportions, or if it was not meticulously heated and then cooled to the exact temperature at the precise second it was ready, the contents would permanently congeal into something cement-like and inert, rendering it as useless as the cauldron it was stuck in. They were also brewing an extremely large amount of this potion; Harry, Ron, and Hermione's cauldrons were already three-quarters of the way full and there was still almost an entire month left to go. The potion was supposed to be a pale shade of blue at this stage, and as Harry looked down into his cauldron he was surprised to see that miraculously, his actually was.

As the double period was drawing to a close, Moody began to approach Harry, Ron, and Hermione at their table. They had just lifted their ever weightier cauldrons into a nearby cabinet to keep until the next lesson. The Slytherins were already stomping angrily out of the room muttering nonstop under their breath, an infuriated Malfoy leading the lot of them. At the doorway, Malfoy paused briefly and threw an exceptionally venomous look back at Moody, though he wasn't brave enough to do much else, at least not in Moody's presence. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were returning to their table for the rest of their things when Moody spoke in his rough voice.

"Potter, potion coming along well, eh?"

"Yes, Professor," Harry answered. "It seems to be." Moody appeared to be hesitating, and Harry thought that perhaps he wanted to speak to him alone. "Hey, I'll catch up later, okay," Harry said to Ron and Hermione, who then finished packing up, put on their gloves, and left the dungeon. Once they were gone, however, Moody remained silent. He was continuing to peer down at the floor as though uncomfortable. Harry waited for a moment, then began to grow nervous; had Moody seen he and Ginny outside last night after all? Harry did not mind serving a detention himself (as long as it was not with Umbridge), but he would feel terrible if Ginny got into trouble, too. After what seemed like an overly long pause, Moody finally spoke in a low rumble.

"You want to be careful, Potter," Moody intoned mysteriously.

"Careful?" Harry asked, wondering if he was talking about seeing him outside with Ginny or about something else entirely.

"Yes," Moody answered, looking rather pensive as he stared at Harry with both eyes. After a few moments, though, Moody's expression lost its intensity and changed to something even more difficult to interpret. "Oh, and you need to stop by the Headmaster's office after dinner tonight. Professor Dumbledore said he would like a word," Moody said, his heavily-scarred face almost bland. Whatever it was that Moody had been trying to say before, Harry thought that telling him to go by Dumbledore's office had definitely not been what it was.

"Er... yes, sir. No problem," Harry said, trying not to sound as baffled as he really was. As Harry turned to leave the dungeon he began to feel cold and vaguely uneasy, he was sure that Moody wasn't telling him something. Harry also had an inkling that even though Moody had his head turned in the opposite direction, his magical eye had been following his progress out of the room nevertheless. Harry had suspected that Moody's roving eye had watched him covertly before, and he now felt a distinct feeling of foreboding as he crossed the dark distance of the abandoned dungeon corridor alone. For some reason that Harry wasn't able to fathom, he was beginning to feel increasingly edgy and unsettled, and he started to shiver slightly as he listened to the sound of his own footfalls upon the hard stone floor. As Harry strode away from the dungeons and up to Gryffindor tower, he couldn't help but feel a little paranoid as well - as if something unseen was lurking in the shadows, watching him. It seemed that even the portraits in the Entrance Hall were glaring at Harry suspiciously, and his sense of alarm intensified. He hurried rapidly towards the stairs, nearly running into several people without realizing it. As Harry began to climb up the white marble staircase he quickened his pace even further, wanting more than ever to reach the warm surroundings and friendly faces of his own common room once more.

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That evening at dinner as Harry glanced around the Great Hall, he nearly forgot his unusual feelings of anxiety from earlier in the day. The Hall was bright and shining and while the storm raged fiercely outside, everything inside was warm and cozy. Harry waved at Hagrid who was looking exceedingly pleased about something, but then again Harry thought that may have just been because he was on his third large tankard of mead. Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout were talking intently next to Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall, who were conversing in low tones in the center of the table. Dumbledore then caught Harry's eye and nodded, his eyes twinkling in the candlelit room. Harry smiled at him and then realized that Moody was missing. Harry's strangely unsettling feelings from before quickly returned in full measure again and when Ginny asked him something a few moments later, Harry had to ask her to repeat what she'd just said.

"I asked you if you were finished, but then I saw that you've barely eaten a thing," Ginny said, focusing on Harry's almost untouched dinner plate. "Is something the matter, Harry?" she then asked, her brown eyes staring up into his searchingly.

"Oh, well, I guess I've just been a bit worried about the way that Professor Moody's been acting," he said.

"Moody?" Ginny blurted, her eyes going wide.

"What about old Mad-Eye?" Ron asked.

He and Hermione had just come back from patrolling the corridors with Ernie MacMillan and Hannah Abbott, the Hufflepuff prefects. Ever since the Death Eater's attacks in January, Dumbledore had insisted that the prefects must patrol the corridors in groups of four or larger. The teachers could also be seen in the corridors a lot more often now, especially after hours. As Ernie and Hannah walked away, Harry could hear Ernie quoting a school rule verbatim to some nearby second years. Hannah had rolled her eyes somewhat irritably - Ernie was a good person, but he could be pretty annoying at times as well. Ron and Hermione pulled off their gloves as they sat down on the bench and began to load their plates with the still warm pork roast and vegetables sitting nearby. Hermione had appeared slightly on edge as she had walked in with Ron and seemed only peripherally aware of the conversation as Harry continued.

"I can't help wondering if maybe Moody saw us out there after all," Harry said, glancing back at Ginny. "He seemed like he wanted to talk to me about something important after Potions, but then he just told me to go see Dumbledore in his office tonight. I'm almost sure that he was going to ask me about something else. It doesn't make any sense," Harry said, fretfully stabbing at his roast potatoes with his fork.

"If Moody had seen us, Harry, why wouldn't he simply come out and say so? Why not give us a detention and be done with it?" Ginny asked nervously.

"That's the thing, I don't really know," Harry said, disconcertedly. Suddenly, Hermione spoke up. Apparently Ron had already told her about Harry and Ginny's late night excursion from the previous evening.

"Well, Professor Moody's certainly got an odd way of behaving at times. Perhaps he just has other things on his mind," Hermione said, with a relatively distracted air. After a moment though, Hermione began to focus back on her friends, and her gaze fell slowly upon Harry. She then crossed her arms in front of her rather emphatically and peered directly into Harry's face. "By the way, Harry, what were you thinking?" Hermione hissed, adopting the same attitude Mrs. Weasley often used when one of her children had been particularly troublesome.

"What was I thinking about what?"

"What were you thinking running around out of bounds like that last night? Have you any idea how dangerous that was? Not only are Voldemort and the stupid Death Eaters out there on the rampage, there's also a huge blizzard outside - or haven't you noticed?" Hermione whispered heatedly, in what Harry considered to be a much too aggressive tone.

"Well, the weather was just fine last night, it wasn't even that cold. Besides, we stayed hidden under the cloak nearly the whole time." Harry's explanation didn't slow Hermione down one jot, however. She looked like she was more than just annoyed or worried - she almost seemed to be genuinely angry.

"So you weren't even under it the entire time?" Hermione asked, incredulously.

"Well no," Harry admitted. "But we were way over on the other side of the lake by the forest. We only wanted to get away for a little while. What's so wrong with that?"

"Harry, what if Death Eaters had been hiding in that forest? We have no way of knowing what they might do - what lengths they may go to! I mean, what if they had come after you? What would you have done then?" Hermione finished ominously - she was trembling all over. Ginny was gaping at Hermione as though stunned, but Harry was beginning to feel uncomfortable.

"Why are you asking me this? What exactly are you trying to get at, Hermione?" Harry asked, feeling uneasy.

"I just... I just don't want anyone else getting hurt or killed right now, Harry," Hermione answered more calmly, but she was still clearly upset. Harry was beginning to feel more than uncomfortable at that point, he was beginning to feel slightly ill.

"Getting hurt or killed?" Harry echoed quietly. Harry then began to question his own actions. He'd only wanted to cheer Ginny up, but what if Hermione was right? What if something horrible had happened last night? Unexpectedly, a strangely sinister idea then occurred to Harry - it was something that was completely out of his normal realm of thinking. "That's it, isn't it?" Harry asked in an odd whisper.

"What?" Hermione asked him quizzically.

"That's what he wants."

"That's what who wants?" Hermione continued.

"Voldemort," Harry replied, as his heart began to race.

"What are you talking about, Harry?" Hermione was beginning to sound fearful.

"How could I have missed seeing this - it's so obvious..." Harry said ambiguously. He started to shiver visibly.

"What's obvious?" Ginny asked abruptly. She looked even more frightened than Hermione.

"Everything that's happened since he came back - it's my fault..." Harry was beginning to hear a funny ringing in his ears as he sat there on the bench. Ginny, Hermione, and Ron were staring at him curiously, but Harry didn't notice.

"Harry," Ginny spoke up again, trying to get his attention. Harry glimpsed over at her jerkily. He was starting to feel significantly worse, it was as if ice was crawling through his veins, freezing him solid right where he sat.

"It's me he's after - that makes me the one to blame for all of this," Harry answered anxiously.

"All of what, Harry? You're not making any sense," Ginny said, sounding utterly dismayed.

"All of these murders -- Sirius, my mum and dad, those people in London - it's all my fault! Maybe I should just give myself over to Voldemort right now - it's what he wants, anyway - maybe then he'd stop, maybe once he's got me, he'll leave everybody else alone!" Harry had felt himself grow more and more tense with each word he spoke and by the end he was standing, though he couldn't remember getting to his feet. He also realized that he was speaking much more loudly that he had intended and that every single face in the Great Hall was focused directly on him. Ginny, Ron, and Hermione were staring at him what their mouths wide open, evidently horrified at what he'd just said. Harry couldn't seem to think rationally as the odd ringing in his ears continued. Everyone in the huge room had fallen totally silent - both teachers and students, even the Slytherin table was gawping at him soundlessly.

Abruptly, Ron stood up. He walked around to the other side of the Gryffindor table where Harry was, and then wordlessly grabbed Harry's arm and led him out of the Great Hall. Harry didn't resist, and as soon as they had seen what Ron was doing, Ginny and Hermione caught up to them and followed them out the door. Harry let himself be led blindly, not really looking at anything or anyone as Ron dragged him towards the huge marble staircase and then up the seven flights of stairs to Gryffindor tower. Upon entering the common room, Ron turned to Hermione and Ginny; no one else was there, they were all still down in the Great Hall at dinner.

"I want a moment alone with Harry," Ron stated firmly. Hermione stood there rather blankly for a moment, she had looked as though she was incredibly close to tears. Hermione didn't argue, though - instead, after a slight pause, she then turned and ran hastily up to her dormitory. Ginny had come awfully close to arguing with her brother, but when Ron then turned his fierce and extremely serious face towards her, she slowly relented and followed a short distance behind Hermione. Harry had turned away from his friends, going to stand by the ice-coated tower window that looked out onto the billowing winter storm continuing to rage outside.

"That's about the stupidest thing I've ever heard you say, Harry, and I've known you since you were eleven," Ron said sharply, almost angrily, to Harry's back once the girls had left them. "I can't believe that you honestly believe a word of that..."

"And what if it's the truth, Ron?" Harry asked, turning from the window and facing him.

"Don't be a right prat! You know very good and well that that's not the answer," Ron argued hotly.

"But what if it is? What if that's what the prophecy truly means? It's not like I really have much of a chance anyway, maybe it would be better that way - especially if it keeps everyone else from getting hurt - "

"If that's what the prophecy means, then forget the damn prophecy! Listen to yourself, Harry! You sound like you want to give up - like you want to die or something."

"But if giving up means saving other lives, then - "

"That's just it, and you know it! If you give yourself to Voldemort it won't save anybody! He won't stop - he'll just go right on killing!" Ron fairly screamed at him, trying to make him see sense.

"But - but it's all my fault, Ron," Harry insisted.

"How could this possibly be your fault?"

"It's - it's like I said before - when I was a baby, my mum and dad died because Voldemort wanted to kill me. Last year Sirius died because Voldemort wanted to kill me. Now more people are dying - even Percy, Ron - he probably killed Percy because he knows that I'm close to your family. It's like he's trying to draw me out. What if he goes after you or the rest of your family? What if he goes after Hermione or her parents? What if he tries to go after Ginny..." Harry left off then, unable to continue. Icy guilt was pouring in on him from all sides, and Harry felt like he was drowning in it.

Ron didn't argue with Harry, but remained frozen in a state of semi-shock and apprehension. Harry began to wonder if Ron had ever thought about their friendship on those terms before. Would Ron turn and walk out on him now? Would he cast their friendship aside because it was simply too dangerous to continue it? Harry stumbled over to the chairs by the fire and slumped down into one with his head in his hands. In a way Harry half hoped that Ron would leave, then at least he and the rest of his family might be safe. After a moment, Harry heard Ron as he took a seat directly across from him.

"It's not your fault that all of those people died, Harry," Ron said very quietly. "They died because Voldemort is a sick malicious bastard, and there's nothing you could've done to stop him. Even if you'd never been born, your parents and Sirius could've been killed anyway - they were fighting against him remember? And even if Voldemort decided to kill..." Ron swallowed. "Even if he decided to kill Percy because you're like a part of our family, well, it doesn't matter now. If Voldemort comes after us or Hermione's family because we're your friends, then he bloody well comes after us. You not being our friend anymore isn't going to change that, we've been friends for too long. If you give yourself up to him, Harry, that means that he's won. And if there's one thing in the world that I'm positive of, it's that Voldemort can't win."

Deep down Harry knew that Ron was right, but for some reason - some eerie unexplainable reason - Harry was continuing to feel guilty and unaccountably hopeless. Harry stared at his hands and realized that he couldn't seem to stop shaking - he felt cold both inside and out. The same feeling of uneasiness he had felt earlier that day began to increase to such a great extent that Harry jumped and looked quickly behind him, nervously thinking he'd just seen something move in the shadows. Something wasn't quite right.

"Something's wrong," Ron said, echoing Harry's thoughts. "You weren't acting like this before. What's happened to make you feel so responsible for what Voldemort's done all of the sudden?" At Ron's words, something shifted in Harry's brain; he blinked and then shook his head trying to rid himself of the incessant ringing that was continuing to reverberate stubbornly throughout his mind. Finally, Harry realized that he really didn't feel right, nothing this entire day had felt right. Something very unusual was going on, but Harry couldn't say what it was or why he felt that way. Eventually, he looked back up at Ron. Ron seemed tremendously worried; he was pale and his brow was furrowed anxiously.

"Maybe something is wrong," Harry agreed. "Everything seems kind of, I dunno, off somehow... I know that you're right, though. Voldemort would only try to use me against others if I gave myself over to him - I don't know what I was thinking." Unconsciously, Harry reached up and rubbed his scar - he was still shaking.

"Are you feeling okay, Harry?" Ron asked, watching him closely.

"Yeah, I'm okay I guess," Harry answered, putting his hand back down. "I just feel really odd." Harry closed his eyes and pulled his wand from his robes, searching for the barrier that he knew was already there. Slowly he began to shut everything - especially everything that he had been thinking and feeling that particular day - completely out. Silently, he raised the barrier in his mind as high as he could manage, and his feelings of cold uneasiness dissipated somewhat, though they didn't disappear altogether.

"Do you feel any better now?" Ron asked him.

"Yeah, a little," Harry said, shrugging. Suddenly, Harry remembered that he had just discussed not only Voldemort in front of Ron, but also Percy, something that he and Hermione had both tried to be very careful not to do ever since he'd been murdered. Harry looked up into Ron's face feeling absolutely horrible. "I'm sorry, Ron."

"What d'you mean, sorry?" Ron asked, looking confused.

"I'm sorry about dredging all of this up again. You and Ginny have finally started to feel better, and I go off and - "

"Harry," Ron interrupted, "just stop, already." Harry lapsed into a guilt-ridden silence. After a few moments, Harry remembered exactly how Hermione had looked before going upstairs, and his feelings of self-reproach increased.

"D'you think Hermione is going to be all right?" Harry asked, feeling awful.

"Hermione? Hermione is just fine."

"No she's not, Ron, she's been worrying herself sick," Harry interjected, heaving an exasperated sigh. "She told me so not too long ago. That must've been why she said what she did earlier - I don't know how much more of this she can take. First it was Sirius and worrying about me, then she thought her parents had been attacked, and then..."

"And then it was Percy and worrying about me," Ron finished for him, grimly. "Me and Ginny, and all the rest of my family."

"Well, yeah. That's why I should have known not to go and..."

"Harry, listen to me. It's been a really stressful year, okay. And as hard as it's been on me and Ginny and Hermione, the three of us know it's been just as hard on you - probably even harder. I think the reason Hermione started to get upset earlier is because she feels guilty for bringing it up to you in the first place," Ron broke off, gazing down at the floor. Harry goggled at him.

"She feels guilty?" Harry asked.

"Probably," Ron said.

"Well, that's just great. Now everybody's worried about everybody else. What's happening to all of us, anyway? It's like nothing can ever be simple anymore," Harry said, pushing a frustrated hand through his untidy hair. He didn't honestly expect an answer. Harry knew too much had changed since the days that he, Ron, and Hermione had snuck past three-headed dogs down trapdoors together - too much had happened. He and Ron were both silent for a time, thinking. After a few moments, Ron spoke once again.

"I dunno. I guess things are kind of different now. I know I feel different," Ron admitted softly.

"You are different, Ron," Harry stated.

"Well, so are you," Ron responded, turning to peer at Harry again. "Look, Harry, maybe I shouldn't say anything, but ever since this summer it's like you're a different Harry than the one I grew up with. It wouldn't even bother me so much except that I know that Voldemort's trying to mess with your mind - even tonight - a moment ago you seemed - I know that you weren't yourself... It's just scary sometimes," Ron trailed off. Harry leaned forward and sank further down into the squashy armchair he was sitting in.

"Listen, I don't actually know what's been going on - I just... It's not easy sometimes, you know," Harry murmured.

"I know - that's why Hermione and Ginny and I have been so worried about you, mate. Sometimes you get this look in your eyes... it reminds me of the way that Sirius looked right after he got out of Azkaban or how Lupin used to look right after a full moon. It's like you've seen more than you should've or something. And then all this summer you seemed well... not just sad, it was like you were... I dunno, separate from than the rest of us - like you were so much older, somehow." Harry fell quiet for a few minutes, contemplating what Ron had said. Finally, he spoke up again.

"Well, you seem older too, Ron. Besides... losing someone close has a way of doing that to you," Harry said softly, turning away.

"No bloody denying that," Ron agreed, grimacing. Ron then got up and ambled slowly across the floor of the common room, watching the sleet and snow as it blew ferociously against the ancient glass of the tower windows. Harry went over to stand next to him mutely, caught up in his own thoughts. After quite a while, Ron broke the silence once more. "I guess I never really realized what Dad was talking about before, you know - about how bad things were when Voldemort was running around last time. I wish it could've stayed that way. I wish he would've stayed gone," Ron said just above a whisper, still focusing on the storm outside. Harry shivered slightly but remained silent. Several moments passed as they stared out into the cold darkness that continued to sweep almost viciously around the castle.

Eventually, however, Ron turned toward him quickly, seemingly remembering something. "Hey, weren't you supposed to go see Dumbledore tonight, Harry?" Harry gasped as he checked his watch.

"Just perfect," Harry muttered under his breath, thoroughly annoyed with himself. He wondered fleetingly what else could possibly go wrong tonight as he turned and rapidly bolted back through the portrait hole.

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Harry arrived at Dumbledore's office out of breath, his face flushed from running and from the bitter cold of the corridors. In fact, he had a bit of difficulty getting out "Drooble's Best Blowing Gum," so he could even get past the stone statue outside of the Headmaster's office. Harry stopped and decided to take just a moment before he tugged at the griffin-shaped knocker to be let in.

"Hello, Harry. Are you all right?" Dumbledore asked, taking in Harry's somewhat disheveled appearance.

"Oh yes, I'm all right, Professor, and I'm sorry I'm late. Professor Moody told me earlier that you wanted to see me, but I... I forgot," Harry explained apologetically.

"Yes," Dumbledore said, gently. "I have not actually spoken with you recently. I had wanted to give you and your friends some time after what happened this January." Dumbledore then paused, giving Harry a look of deep concern. "I saw Mr. Weasley escort you out of the Great Hall earlier this evening. Are you certain that you are well?" Harry grimaced slightly, feeling embarrassed that he had drawn attention to himself. He had forgotten that Dumbledore must've been watching earlier.

"Yes, sir," Harry said, at last. "I'm sorry about that. It's kind of been a bad day." Harry paused uncomfortably before going on. "Everybody's been having a tough time adjusting to everything, I guess. Ron and Ginny were really upset and depressed for a while. I just don't think that they were expecting anything this terrible to happen to a member of their own family. I guess no one does, even though there's a war going on." Harry sighed, now feeling weary in both body and spirit. "It's definitely been a long year, Professor."

When Harry glanced over at Dumbledore, he noticed that his headmaster's usually carefully guarded expression had suddenly grown inexpressibly sad. Harry then turned away from his headmaster and stared solemnly into the fire. For some reason, he was achingly reminded of being locked in here this past June after coming back from the Ministry. Dumbledore had sprung out of that very fire at the time, carrying a flightless baby Fawkes in his pocket. The next part of that memory was horribly painful and Harry closed his eyes, trying to think of something else.

"I have been keeping tabs on Arthur and Molly Weasley," Dumbledore said into the quiet, and Harry looked up at him again. "It has not been easy for them, either. I believe that there is no worse pain than for a parent to lose a child, and they are still struggling with it. They probably always will. The others are apparently muddling through, however. Losing a brother is tremendously hurtful as well, but I can see a light at the end of the tunnel for all of them, eventually." Harry nodded, mutely. Dumbledore seemed to be peering rather dazedly in front of him, his light blue eyes unseeing and distant. After some time, Dumbledore interlocked his long fingers together and gazed over his half-moon glasses at Harry once more.

"Have you given any thought to using your Legilimency again, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, changing the subject.

"Oh," Harry said, caught off-guard, "I honestly haven't thought about it since that night, Professor. There's just been too much else going on." Harry's mind then drifted back to that evening, and he remembered the image of his father and Sirius celebrating together shortly before he was born. He was also reminded of his dream of Sirius from a few months earlier, and he leaned back in his chair as he slowly removed his glasses and began to rub at his eyes tiredly. Sirius had been a member of the Order and for some reason something about that was beginning to nag at him from the back of his mind. Finally, the contents of the letter Sirius had left him then floated through Harry's head and he suddenly knew what it was that he had to ask.

"I know you told my parents about the prophecy, Professor, but does the rest of the Order know about it as well? Did Sirius know?" Harry asked, as he abruptly pushed his glasses back on and stared anxiously at his headmaster. Dumbledore did not speak immediately, and Harry was afraid that he would refuse to answer. The question hung in the air between them for a few seconds more until Dumbledore sighed regretfully and broke the silence at last.

"Yes, Harry. The Order knows. And yes, Sirius knew of it as well. I felt it imperative that the members of the Order be made aware of just how important it was for them to keep the contents of the prophecy from Voldemort. If he had been able to obtain the complete record, he would have discovered that you have a power, a strength that he does not have -- and the consequences of that could have been catastrophic. If Voldemort had been warned of that danger before you were ready to face him again, he would have undoubtedly tried to find a way of bypassing it - likely using whatever means necessary. And needless to say, that could only prove to make things much more dangerous for you than they already are."

"But I don't even know what that power is, Professor!" Harry objected.

"Are you absolutely certain of that, Harry?" Dumbledore asked him, quietly.

"I... " Harry began to answer, then trailed off. Harry had just remembered a conversation that he'd had with Ginny, Ron, and Hermione shortly before Christmas. Harry had been tormented during that time by Voldemort's mental attacks and with the weight of responsibility the prophecy had implied, and he had shared this with the three of them. Ginny had told him that she thought this unknown power had something to do with his ability to love - to care deeply about those around him. Harry, though, was unsure. He couldn't imagine how that could help him to defeat Voldemort. Harry hesitated. Slowly, he continued, feeling a little awkward. "Ginny told me that she thinks, well... she thinks that because I care about others, because I want to help them when they're in trouble and everything - that I'll be able to defeat him, somehow. But that doesn't really make sense, does it? What possible difference could that make?" Harry asked rather haltingly. Dumbledore paused, then looked at Harry piercingly.

"Harry, that particular ability of yours makes all the difference in the world - it makes you who you are. You have demonstrated quite clearly that you possess the power and the bravery to put others above yourself, even in the most dire of situations, and this is the very definition of what it is to love others. Love is the antithesis of Hate, and Hate is the only thing that the Lord Voldemort truly knows or understands. This gives you an incredible advantage and makes you more powerful than you realize. He will underestimate any magic that you use so long as your heart is the driving force behind it," Dumbledore replied, but Harry remained doubtful.

"But how am I going to be able to win if I still have no idea what I'm supposed to do, Professor?" Harry asked insistently, wanting a more definitive answer.

"Trust your instincts," Dumbledore responded simply. "Professor Moody has informed me of your unique ability to conjure certain items in class well beyond your typical age level - sometimes even beyond what most grown wizards can do, and that is the beginning. I cannot tell you what to do because you will likely not even know it yourself until the time is right. The answer is inside of you, and no one else can tell you what it will be. I trust you, Harry, but you must learn to trust yourself - to believe in yourself. Know that I believe in you, and so does everyone else who cares about you. You can do this."

Dumbledore then fell silent, and Harry didn't know how to react or even how to feel at the moment. Harry stared blankly into the fire once more, trying to accept what he was being told, trying to make sense of it all. Finally, Harry stood, feeling tired but restless. He then turned to gaze out the window at the snow-covered grounds outside. During the time that Harry had been speaking to Dumbledore the storm had suddenly blown itself out, leaving the moon visible in the winter sky. The moon was full and bright that night, but heavy clouds kept passing over its surface causing the white grounds to lighten and darken as the shadows passed over the ice-encrusted landscape. Dumbledore got up and stood beside Harry, placing a long wizened hand gently on his shoulder.

"I do not know what your future holds, Harry. Part of that shall be up to you. I hope that you will be able to find peace and true happiness in your life. Remember that love can help us bear even the worst of times, and unless I am much mistaken, love seems to have already found you," Dumbledore said softly, the light in his blue eyes twinkling once more. Harry turned and gaped unblinkingly at his headmaster, who then smiled down at him. While Harry felt surprised by what Dumbledore had just said, he still felt heartened by it all the same.

Once Harry reached his dormitory, he laid upon his bed turning his tired eyes up to stare at the red canopy of his four-poster, exhausted but unable to rest. Somehow, someway, he would have to defeat Voldemort, but until he did, everyone he cared about was in limbo. Harry continued to feel antsy and worried as he lay there restlessly - he felt this distinct sense of unease, almost as if something was getting ready to close in on him. Eventually, Harry realized that he wasn't going to be able to go to sleep, and he wrapped himself in Ginny's Christmas throw as he went to peer out the window at the vast frozen grounds below. Harry sat there for a long time contemplating everything that had happened and the great number of mysteries surrounding him as the Eastern sky gradually lightened and the first rays of the winter sun rose past the dark horizon.