The Traitor's Blood

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Harry's attitude began to change dramatically over the next few days. The extra Potions lessons were still extremely annoying, but he found he could face them. It was actually very strange to have so few subjects to concentrate on. They had all dropped several of their subjects in order to concentrate on the important ones that they needed NEWTs in. Harry and Ron had once again picked all the same subjects, just as they had done when it came to choosing extra subjects back in their third year. They had both decided to drop Divination (which they had never been any good at anyway), Herbology, History of Magic, and Astronomy. Harry had kept all of his other subjects: Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Charms and Potions, all of which he would need in order to have any chance of becoming an Auror. He had also decided to continue with his Care of Magical Creatures classes. He needed a fifth subject and he could not imagine abandoning Hagrid's class.

Harry was not surprised when he discovered that Hermione was taking six NEWT classes. He had half expected her to try and take even more subjects as she had done for the OWLs. She was taking all the same classes as Harry and Ron but was also taking History of Magic.

"How can you take that horrible subject voluntarily?" Ron had asked in disgust when she told them.

"Well, I admit Professor Binns isn't the most inspiring teacher," Hermione had said casually, "but I find the subject fascinating. And, well, I'll need it if I want to fight for the rights of House Elves and other neglected magical creatures."

"You're not seriously going to carry on with that spew nonsense are you?" Ron asked with a short laugh.

"Of course," she replied defiantly. "I want a career which I can be proud of. I think S.P.E.W. is very important and I'd like to take it further when we leave school. Besides, McGonagall was very encouraging during my Careers Advice. She suggested that I continue with all the basic subjects, plus achieve Outstanding in Care of Magical Creatures and History of Magic. They'll both give me a strong foundation with which to base my career."

Ron had groaned at this point and Hermione had not mentioned S.P.E.W. again since, which stood for the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare and was a cause Hermione had founded in their fourth year.

As the weekend drew nearer, Harry decided he had better start thinking about the Quidditch practices. He decided to organise a practice with the remaining team members for Monday night. They could discuss the vacant positions and arrange another evening to hold trials. He told Ron about his plan and Ron agreed to spread the word to the other team members about the practice.

Hermione had not mentioned Quidditch since Ron had told her off that lunchtime. In fact, she had not spoken to the two of them much at all. She was not ignoring them, but simply not talking to them unless she had to. She still sat with them at meal times and when they were in the common room. But she always buried her face in a book and only spoke if she was spoken to first. Harry felt horrible and really want to talk to her. But when he mentioned this to Ron, he just brushed it off.

"She's alright," he mumbled when Harry mentioned it to him as they were lying in bed that Friday night. "She's just angry that we won't let her take charge of everything. She'll get over it."

"Maybe," Harry replied and rolled over to face the moonlit window. Ron had insulted Hermione loads of times in the past and she usually just pulled a face or simply ignored him. She had not taken it this badly since Ron had made fun of her in their first year, just before they had all become friends. A cloud moved across the moon and the room fell into complete darkness. Harry closed his eyes. He decided he would talk to Hermione tomorrow, without Ron around. He began to think of ways he could get her alone, but before he came up with anything at all viable, he fell asleep.

*****

Harry was standing in a dark room lit only by a few candles which were glowing in one corner. There was a window not far from him, but it was so filthy that even if it was daytime, no light would have shone through it. He walked across to the candle-lit side of the room. He blinked at the brightness of them and blew out a couple in order to reduce the glare. His breath felt icy cold in his mouth. A door opened and he turned to face it.

"I-It's working, M-Master," Wormtail stammered as he crawled in on his hands and knees, and began kissing the hem of Harry's robes.

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Why have you returned?" he asked in a cold, high voice which almost made him jump when he spoke. He proceeded to kick Wormtail away from him, and then laughed as he stumbled and fell against the wall.

"I-I wanted to w-warn you, M-Master," he continued to stammer, his eyes darting wildly in their sockets as he spoke. "Dumbledore kn-knows."

"What?" Harry demanded, again in that high pitched voice. But this time he was not so surprised when it left his mouth.

"He has s-still not returned to H-Hogwarts," Wormtail went on, flinching at almost every word. "He kn-knows."

"Curse that damned old fool," Harry banged his fist on the shelf which held the candles, a long white-fingered fist. One of the candles rattled and tipped off the shelf. It hit the floor and extinguished itself, causing the room to fall darker still.

"What shall we do, Master?" Wormtail grovelled closer to Harry along the stone floor.

"We continue with the plan," said Harry decisively. "I will deal with Dumbledore." Harry was instantly surprised at the amount of disgust he felt towards the man who had always been so good to him.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small timepiece. He glanced at the many golden hands, but before he had made any sense of it, he caught sight of his reflection in the glass. Instantly his scar began to burn red hot on his forehead. He dropped the pocket watch, which fell to his side, and clasped his hands to his forehead.

"M-Master?" Wormtail lifted his head, looking concerned.

"Potter!"

"What about him, Master?" Wormtail moved forward cautiously.

"He's here," Voldemort replied angrily, his fierce red eyes glowing in anger. He swooped his long arm across the shelf, sending the remaining candles plummeting to the floor. The room plunged into complete darkness.

*****

Harry sat bolt upright in his bed. He was panting as if he had just run a great distance. His skin was cold and clammy and his sheets were soaked with sweat. He must have fallen asleep with his glasses on because they were now halfway down his nose. He felt sick and had to sit completely still for a few minutes in order to stop the nausea which threatened to engulf him. The room was still very dark. He reached across and clasped his hand around the glass of water on his bedside cabinet. His hand shook violently as he tried to lift the glass towards his dry lips. Then he lost his grip completely and the glass fell to the floor and smashed.

"Whazzat?" Harry could hear Ron's voice from across the room.

"Where's the light?" Neville Longbottom was groping around in the darkness trying to light the lantern by his bed.

"What's going on?" Seamus Finnigan asked sleepily.

"Dunno," Dean Thomas mumbled.

Then the light came on and shone across them all, casting eerie shadows on the floor. Harry laid his head back against his damp pillows without saying a word. He was still secretly scared of what voice would come out of him if he did speak.

"Harry?" Ron asked, moving down to the end of his own bed and looking worriedly at Harry.

"Do you want me to get someone?" Neville asked, also looking at Harry with concern.

Harry tried to shake his head, but stopped as the movement sent a horrible wave of cold sickness through his body.

"I'm going to get McGonagall," Neville said decisively.

"No," Harry croaked, and was secretly relieved when his own voice came out. "I-I'm fine."

"Did you have another dream?" Ron asked with a mixture of concern and terror.

Harry nodded slowly and winced as the nausea threatened to engulf him again.

"What happened?"

Harry screwed up his face. "Not now," he groaned. His scar was still burning painfully on his forehead and he was trembling slightly from the shock.

"I think you should see Madam Pomfrey," Ron suggested.

Harry growled under his breath. The pain on his forehead was throbbing more intensely now and he could feel cold sweat pouring down his face. He heard Ron scramble off his bed and move beside him.

"...Dumbledore," was all Harry managed to say.

"I-I don't think I can get Dumbledore," Ron said cautiously.

"TRY!" Harry shouted, his face still screwed up against the searing pain which was growing worse by the second.

Ron muttered something and Harry heard the other boys moving frantically around the room. Then the door opened and closed, leaving Ron and Harry alone in the dormitory.

"He's angry," Harry groaned through the pain.

"Who?" Ron asked, moving closer to Harry's face so that he could hear him better.

"Voldemort," Harry spat, causing Ron to flinch.

"W-why is he a-angry?" Ron asked, now sounding extremely frightened.

"He knows I was there," Harry replied through gritted teeth. A tap on the door interrupted them. "Go away," Harry hissed, but far too quietly for the person to hear.

"Come in," Ron shouted across the room.

The door opened slowly and Harry groaned at the thought of McGonagall or Madam Pomfrey coming in and fussing over him. But he was surprised and relieved when the person actually spoke.

"Harry!" It was Hermione who shrieked out his name and flung herself down beside his bed with Ron. "Are you alright?"

Harry shook his head. The pain was subsiding again now but he was overcome with nausea again instead. He had to swallow hard to stop himself from being sick in front of Hermione.

"What is it?" Hermione asked.

"Dumbledore," Harry repeated, "I need to see Dumbledore."

"Maybe we should see McGonagall," Hermione suggested.

Harry groaned again. "No," he said, feeling angry himself now, "Dumbledore."

He heard Ron and Hermione whispering frantically to each other, which made Harry feel even more annoyed. Then the door opened again. Harry turned to look at it and rolled his eyes when he saw both McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey hurrying inside. He also caught a glimpse of several students hovering in the hallway outside the door.

Although Harry protested constantly, he ended up being taken down to the hospital wing. He refused to tell anyone anymore about what had happened in his dream. He asked continuously to see Dumbledore, but McGonagall kept telling him it was "impossible". Ron and Hermione returned to their rooms and Harry was left alone. Madam Pomfrey had left a small goblet of purple liquid - Dreamless Sleep Potion - next to his bed, but Harry did not want to drink it.

The pain in his forehead had gone completely now and he no longer felt sick. All that was left was anger. Why would no one listen to him? Where was Dumbledore and why had he not returned to the school? He found himself feeling angry at Dumbledore as well as everyone else.

These questions turned over and over in Harry's head as the sun began to rise outside the window. At some point he found himself thinking about Sirius again. He wanted so much to talk to him about his dream. He would have understood and helped him. He would not have packed him off to the hospital wing like an invalid.

Harry did not go back to sleep at all. He waited until the early morning sun was up in the sky, then he got himself out of bed and headed out of the castle and down to the lake. Part of him wanted to just walk out of the grounds completely; to leave Hogwarts far behind. But he knew he would regret it. So he resolved to just sitting there on his own and letting the weight of his thoughts engulf him completely.