A Traitorous Mind

A Traitorous Mind Chapter 3: Cabined, Cribbed and Confined

'But now I am cabined, cribbed, confined, bound in

To saucy doubts and fear'

Macbeth; Act 3 Scene 4 Line 24

Harry despised funerals with every fibre of his being. Some orphans loved them. Obviously, they were sad at the person´s death, but felt closer to their parents at the same time. Harry didn´t feel that, and even if he did, he realised he´d probably only feel jealous of the dead for being nearer to them than he. Funerals to him were just a reminder of the terrible losses he and his friends had sustained.

Upon entering the wizarding world, he´d had a slight hope that they would have different modes of burial or at least something that gave a little more to the person within. The rigid lines of the wood, the flatness of the grain, and the over polished brass plaque and handles...the way a person could be so easily written off as just another corpse so soon after their death sickened him.

Today, the funeral was a joint one. Two coffins. Two people who had both been born, lived, and finally expired their last breaths. As far as the neat, slightly different-sized boxes were concerned, they could have been Muggles. It screamed to Harry as wrong, as the outdoor service continued. Things were moving forward at a pace he couldn´t keep up with. Whilst the bouquets were being laid in the present, he lagged behind in the past.

"Pasco is... sorry, could you repeat that?"

Draco, his face a unique mixture of panic, disbelief and impatience, spoke again.

"Mr Encanta is outside and quite probably dead

Miss Drayton. For Merlin´s sake, woman, get an Unspeakable out here so we can actually do something!"

With a quick nod, the receptionist disappeared into a room behind her, quite obviously shaking.

A touch on Harry´s arm brought him back to the present. Looking to his right, he locked eyes with Lyca, who was watching him with concern. He gave her a small, if forced, smile to show he was all right before looking back to where the service was coming to an end.

A young man was reading from a small book over one of coffins as it was lowered slowly, the other having already been laid to rest. Tearstains tainted his pale cheeks, his blue eyes puffy around the edges. As he spoke, his voice wavered dangerously, his throat catching periodically.

"Sleep on, my love, in thy cold bed

Never to be disquieted

My last Goodnight! Thou wilt not wake

Till I thy fate shall over take:

Till age, or grief, or sickness must

Marry my body to that dust

It so much loves; and fills the room

My heart keeps empty in thy tomb

Stay for me there: I will not fail

To meet thee in that hollow vale"

The solemn words touched the whole audience, tears coming to more than the reader´s eyes. When he finished reading from the book, the man picked a bowl up from his feet. Placing a hand in, he pulled out a handful of rose petals and scattered them across the coffin. A gust of wind blew some of them into the assembled crowd, scenting the air. Harry plucked one off his cloak and turned it over in his fingers. It was blood red.

The body was a ghastly sight. The light of their wands illuminated the scene, catching on the silver badge pinned to the lapel. Recognition was apparent in Pasco´s eyes and face, or so Harry thought. None of the others seemed to notice. The other Unspeakable who had been at their interrogation knelt by the unmoving man, slipping two fingers beneath the robe´s high neck to feel for a pulse. A deep sigh escaping his lips, he got up and shook his head.

"He´s gone."

Barely hearing the words, Harry squatted down. Half losing his balance, he touched the ground just by Pasco´s head to steady himself. The texture of what his fingers came into contact with chilled him to the bone. Lifting them to the light, he started to shake uncontrollably as he saw the cold crimson drops make their slow procession down his fingertips and onto his palm, swathing his hand in Pasco´s blood.

Harry´s focus slowly returned. Lyca was looking at him again; not surprising when he was quivering as if he´d seen Pasco´s ghost rather than a flashback of the corpse. He ignored her eyes, instead looking at the priest who was muttering a binding charm over the earth mound that made up Jen´s grave as he had done with Pasco´s. Jen´s headstone, unlike Pasco´s, bore no name. She bore anonymity to the end and past it, the only inscription on the marble being her epitaph.

It is your unspeakable loss we weep

For you are cursed to eternal sleep

What good you could have done; cut short

The life rope that had been pulled too taut

Harry was not the only one looking blankly into the headstone. A little way behind stood Draco, his hands firmly on the shoulders of his squirming son, silver eyes staring deep into the stone, as if challenging it to set its captive free from her wooden prison. Hermione, who stood on the other side of the graves, looked up to see the confusion and hurt that his face couldn´t quite hide. Frowning, she made her way over, and stood before him. Draco caught his focus and scowled.

"Move, Mudblood."

Hermione wasn´t perturbed, as she knew that he was just trying to get rid of her in the easiest way possible. Instead she searched his narrowed eyes.

"You blame yourself, don´t you?"

"I had nothing to do with the murders Granger." he snapped.

"Oh drop the act, Malfoy. You know exactly what I mean. You blame yourself for not protecting her."

Draco glared at her. "What would you know?"

Hermione sighed. "I know, Draco, that Jen was one of the people you took that oath for. And I know you take it very seriously. You saved Harry´s life. You would have saved Jen´s if you could have done."

He looked past her, his face drawn. "You have no idea what it´s like. Knowing that you´ve broken the promise you made it your life´s task to fulfil. Knowing that you´ve failed. I could have saved Jen´s life. I shouldn´t have let her walk through the woods alone. I´m a fool for letting her."

"You couldn´t have predicted..."

"That´s just it. I should have. And because I didn´t think about it, she´s now lying in a wooden box. There´s no point trying to tell me I´m not at fault here, because I am. Now, if you would just leave me to my angst, I would be most grateful."

Now it was her turn to glare. "Just what help are you to anyone, Draco, when you are mourning the loss of your pride. If you hadn´t noticed, the rest of that blasted oath is still in place," She grabbed his wrist and held it up so the sleeve of his robe fell back to reveal the gold band there, "This hasn´t loosened. The rest of them are still alive. So Jen escaped you. She chose her career, and she chose her route home. She knew the risks. It´s the fault of the murderer, no one else´s. Stop mourning the past and move on. You can´t walk forwards if you won´t turn your head from the road behind."

With that, she strode off towards Lyca and Harry, leaving Draco alone with Calum. The man looked down at his son, who looked up at him with pleading eyes. He smiled weakly. "What is it you want, you rascal?"

"Ice cream."

Bewildered at his son´s ability to eat frozen goods in the middle of a blustery October, Draco nodded silent consent and turned away from the graveyard. He headed to where a witch was standing with a trolley of sweets in an attempt to make up for the uninteresting afternoon the toddler had gone through. Maybe Hermione Weasley had a point. But he was never going to admit as such to her face.

*****

The rest of the afternoon was uneventful. Harry drifted through it, talking to Hermione and Lyca in the spaces in which he withdrew from his thoughts. But far too often he found himself slipping backwards into his memories, going over and over the same scenes in his head. Eventually, he moved away from the two of them to be alone with his recollections.

Even though Harry knew that the Weasleys´s doorbell was in perfect working order, he couldn´t stop himself ringing it several times to be sure. After his fifth ring in quick succession, the door was finally opened.

"Listen here, there´s no need to.....Harry?"

Harry knew what he must look like. He´d not slept that night, and had lived at least a couple of hours of it twice over, with the interrogation room and its powers over time. His hair was dishevelled from both the wind and the much-repeated action of running his fingers through it in worry. And, having not had access to a washbasin since Pasco´s murder, there was still the matter of the dried blood on his hands. Shaking again at the thought, he held onto the doorframe to steady himself.

"C-Can I come in," he swallowed hard, " Please?"

Ron´s eyes widened when he saw what masked the skin on Harry´s hand. Nodding, he gestured for his best friend to come inside, before shutting out the cold in his wake and following him in.

"What´s happened?"

Harry couldn´t speak for a few moments, the horror still too fresh in his mind for him to speak freely about it. Finally, leaning into the back of the sofa, he went through the whole story. How he´d gone to Draco for the memory of the night with Voldemort, then how Jen had died, the arrival of the Unspeakables, and how whilst they´d been there, another had paid with his life. How, in short, he´d gained far more memories than he had gambled on. Ron listened quietly for the whole thing. Finally, when Harry´d finished, he remained in silence, regarding him calmly, before speaking softly.

"And now for what you haven´t told me?"

Harry shuddered involuntarily. "Voldemort...he´s escaped somehow. The Ministry said he´d gone."

He was broken out of his reverie this time by an impact on his back. Stumbling forward, he whirled round to see who it was.

Two blue eyes, filled with hurt and hatred, met his own squarely. The young man who´d read poetic verse with such feeling for Jen now gazed upon him with more passion and enmity than Harry had ever received before in his life. Harry returned it with a confused frown, wondering what had sparked such detestation in the wizard before him. He didn´t have long to wait.

"Murderer," the youth spat out, challenging Harry to disagree.

Harry spluttered, "You what?"

"Harry Potter, the untouchable yet suddenly unnecessary. You were jealous weren´t you? Jealous of a young woman who had a station in life, who still had a reason for living. So you had to kill her."

"What? Why would I? It make´s no sense!" Harry couldn´t understand where this was coming from. But the other male seemed most decided on his point.

"Who else could have Potter? You were the first to find both bodies. And you can´t even account for your actions at the time of the first. Why would a Quidditch star fall from his broom? But no one would ever deem to suspect you. Oh no, the `Famous Harry Potter´ would never kill anyone...well, I see right through you. You´ve got quite the taste for killing. First Diggory, now two - "

Up to this point, Harry had been merely confused. But now he was enraged. Suddenly seeming to gain in height, he bore down upon the younger man, a cloak of power and fury pulled up around him. Trembling with fury, he pulled his accuser upwards by the collar.

"How dare you. How dare you accuse me of that? Cedric died in front of me, simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and you can stand there and flippantly use his untimely death as `evidence´ of my treachery? You sicken me. You - "

Before Harry could go on to insult the man anymore, he felt the two of them being pushed apart. Green eyes still flashing, he looked to see who it was who now held him back with one strong arm, preventing him from getting any closer to his opponent. Ron. The sight of his friend made Harry calm considerably, and now he looked back at the other wizard without the feverish anger in his eyes.

"He had no right," he muttered, so only Ron could hear.

"I know Harry. But it´s not like you to fly into a frenzy like that."

Harry´s eyes locked with the angry blue ones of the youth, who still tried to pull free of those restraining him, two men in Unspeakable garb that Harry did not recognise. Sighing audibly, he turned away, walking with Ron back towards where everyone else was stood. He ignored the looks people were giving him, and instead started to listen to what Ron was telling him.

"...people like that only ruin funerals though. I mean, Pasco was a decent bloke. The firm had dealings with him in the case that had his name leaked by the Daily Prophet. Remember it?"

Harry merely shook his head. Looking at his friend curiously, Ron wondered at his silence. Shaking his head, he carried on.

"We´ve got a job to do now I´m afraid."

Harry looked up at him now, confused. "What sort of `job´?"

"I just got an owl from the Ministry over in Little Hangleton.... you know, the Riddle House? They want us to go over straight away. Now, if we can just find Hermione and Lyca..."

It didn´t take long to locate the two women, who were talking to one of the female Unspeakables who had attended the funeral, though looked in better spirits than most there. Seeing Harry, she gave him an apologetic smile.

"Sorry about Tristan, he´s just sore about his loss...the two of them were planning to marry at the end of the month..."

Harry shook his head, "I understand how he must feel, if I don´t truly know the emotion," he looked to Hermione and Lyca, "Ron has told you already about where we´re going I trust?"

Lyca nodded, "We were with him when he got the in owl. We´re going now then?"

Ron smiled, "Now it is."

Without another word, the four of them Apparated, leaving the funeral party behind.

*****

The over-saturation of Apparition into Little Hangleton in times gone by that had prevented Harry and Draco Apparating directly to the Riddle House some months before, still impeded the four´s travel now, forcing them to arrive in a dark corner in the village itself. Before Voldemort had set up stall on its outskirts, it had been a thriving little community, even if its only main meeting place was a pub. But now, it was basically deserted, the publican, along with half of the village´s population, having disappeared one night that just happened to be one of a Dark Revel. Most houses were boarded up with ages old `For Sale´ signs hung in front of them, giving a phone number for an estate agent long out of business. As they proceeded down the street, their footsteps ringing off the ancient cobbles the only sound to be heard, Harry half expected a tumbleweed to blow across his path. He was sure he wasn´t the only one happy to be out of the place as they began the lane towards the old manor house.

After a long walk in silence, they reached the iron gates at the entrance of the house. Before the Ministry had taken over its occupation from Weasley & Weasley, the firm had always left them open, not expecting any problems from intruders, not with the many mentions in the Daily Prophet as to the extent of the other wards. If a witch or wizard were powerful enough to try and get Voldemort out, they had decided, he or she was not exactly going to be perturbed by a set of Muggle built iron gates. However, the Ministry seemed to have decided otherwise, for when the four of them arrived there, they were padlocked shut. No one stood at them.

Ron, frowning in annoyance, banged on them loudly. "Hello!"

No answer

Ron banged again. "Hello?"

Hermione chuckled softly. "You´re acting out an uncanny resemblance to the man in `The Listeners´ there, dear. Not that I´d expect you to appreciate Muggle poetry, of course," she teased.

Ron turned round, and was about to make some kind of comeback, when a wizard appeared on the other side of the gate.

"Can I help?"

Lyca smiled at the man, who Harry made out to be around ten years their senior. "We received an owl from the Ministry officials lodged here, saying that we were to come immediately."

He frowned. "You did?"

Ron nodded in answer and produced the letter, complete with Ministry seal. "I have it here with me."

The man scratched his head, a bemused look on his face. "They never tell me anything round here...the name´s Crys by the way."

Hermione offered him a hand as soon as he´d opened the gate. "We´re some of the partners of Weasley & Weasley. We placed the wards on His room."

"Whose room?"

Ron gritted his teeth, his patience wearing thin.

Shooting Ron a look, warning him to keep his temper, Hermione spoke again. "Could you tell us what the situation of Voldemort´s disappearance is? Why we´ve been sent for?"

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? Disappearance? Sent for?" Crys looked more than a little confused. "I knew that I shouldn´t have accepted this job...it´s not exactly suited to my skills."

"Well, what do you do normally then?" asked Lyca quizzically.

"Me? An Obliviator by trade, miss. The Ministry asked if I wouldn´t mind transferring here for a short time whilst they......you know what? I´ve clean forgotten the reason!"

"An Obliviator?" The two women exchanged looks. Harry could tell what they were thinking; it seemed more than likely that this wizard had accidentally turned at least one of his charms on himself. This wasn´t the only thing he seemed to have `clean forgotten´.

Before further conversation could arise, another wizard, older this time, appeared at the gates. He offered his hand to Hermione, who shook it matter-of-factly. "Mrs Weasley, I apologise for not specifying the matter of your visit by owl, but we didn´t want to risk it falling into, er, undesirable possession...." He looked nervously over his shoulder. "If you and your companions would like to follow me, my superior wishes to speak with you."

Bidding goodbye to Crys, the four followed behind the new gentleman.

*****

The young witch that introduced herself as the Supervisor of the House shook hands with Ron, Hermione and Lyca, though she did not with Harry. Harry was not bothered, as such; he´d met her type before. Some people his age or younger had a problem with talking to people they considered above their `station´, though Harry personally couldn´t see any reason for it. Offering them a seat in the chilling old sitting room, that had been converted into a kind of office, she got straight to the point.

"The reason for your summons is that we wished to inform you that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has been found, and restored to his chamber."

They all sat up a little straighter at the mention of Voldemort, before letting out a collective sigh of relief. It was Lyca who spoke next. "Where had he gone?"

The woman twitched a little in embarrassment. "I´m afraid one of our junior wizards breached the wards and hid him within the room, in the attempt to draw security away from the house whilst we searched for him in the grounds. We´ve taken him into custody, of course."

Lyca´s eyes widened. "You mean to say he´s been in there all the time?"

The Supervisor nodded uneasily.

Ron, his patience at the end of its tether, jumped up from his seat angrily. "And you´re telling us it took two weeks to find him?! When he never even left the room!"

Her hazel eyes flashed angrily. "It didn´t cross our minds, Mr. Weasley, that he would still be in there. The wards had been breached..."

Hermione didn´t try to restrain her husband, instead questioning herself. "But surely you run security checks on those you employ in here?"

The woman gave no response.

Ron spluttered, "You left an unchecked junior wizard...I´m sorry, Miss...?"

"Jones."

"I´m sorry Miss Jones, but if you and your staff haven´t even got the competence to run security checks on your newer members, then should you really be placed in charge of a genocidal megalomaniac?"

It was Harry who decided it was better to leave sooner rather than later, judging from the way sparks were flying in the suddenly too-small room. Taking Ron by the arm, he smiled courteously to the small Ministry Witch. "Now that we´ve been informed of the situation, and if you don´t need us to re-cast the wards, we´ll be taking our leave." Giving Ron a warning glance, he steered his friend out of the room.

*****

Their trudge out of the grounds and into Little Hangleton was again in silence. Their moods, already shadowy, were not aided by the persistent drizzling that broke out soon after they exited the gates. The quiet this time was less to do with being uneasy, but more due to the fact no one wanted to stir Ron´s temper again before he´d had chance to cool down. Harry couldn´t help but feel thankful that Draco hadn´t come with them. The chance of him taking the hint and staying quiet was, despite his newly earned status of `Good Egg´, about equal with the chance of dying her hair green. Very, very low.

It was not `til they had Apparated back to just outside the Weasleys´ front door that Lyca broke the quiet.

"I suppose that means we´re back to the drawing board on Jen and Pasco then."

Hermione nodded, "And, surprise surprise, we have no evidence...I half wish we were back following Orenda...at least she left a trail."

Lyca winced at the mention of the woman who had nearly killed her. Hermione squeezed her shoulder apologetically before letting them into the house, out of the strengthening rainfall.

*****

In a couple of hours, once they were all fed and watered, everyone seemed to be in better spirits. The four of them, joined by Athena and Ginny, who had been babysitting, were all crowded into the sitting room. Athena kept running from adult to adult, excited by so much company, and more importantly, the greater opportunity for play. Having received a tickling from Ginny, the youngest Weasley sought protection from her godfather, jumping on Harry, who had been lying peacefully on the sofa but was now a little winded. Lyca, sitting by his feet, gave him a fiendish look.

"Serves you right for taking up so much room," she informed him.

Harry simply raised an eyebrow at her, without sitting up. Righting Athena so that she was perched quietly on his stomach, he spoke to Lyca in a voice of mock disdain.

"´Thena was just saying a rather bouncy hello, weren´t you, ´Thena?"

Athena merely blinked at him.

Laughter rang around the room. But it didn´t manage to warm Harry´s soul. He was chilled, chilled right through. All he could think of was his run in with Jen´s fiancé that morning, the look he´d given him, the word he´d spat at him.

"Murderer"

He barely repressed a shudder, his quiet smile stuck on his face to mask his inner turmoil. He was starting to doubt his response. Tristan had been right in one thing, he had been the first to find both bodies. What no one else knew was that he´d witnessed both murders. He´d thought them just visions...but maybe they were more than that? Maybe he´d actually been there, but confused it with an image from his subconcious, as something from his mind rather than something from a reality he´d been in.

But that would mean, surely, that he...that he´d...

Jen might have had no time to react to whatever had killed her, but the look on Pasco´s face had shown he´d recognised whoever he´d seen. From what Ron had told him, it was always possible that someone from Pasco´s past had committed the crime. But if Jen had had time to react, would she have recognised her murderer as well?

He hoped against hope that he was wrong, that he wasn´t losing his mind...

But, as the sky darkened and thunder rippled through the air, he realised that this hope might well fall foul of fate. Holding Athena close as she squealed at the storm releasing the temper of the heavens outside, he shook as he wondered who was next.