The Traitor's Blood

CHAPTER NINETEEN

As Harry and Ron made their way down to the Quidditch pitch that evening, Harry could feel his heart racing inside his chest. He felt a familiar sense of inadequacy - as if he was going to let everyone down and, most of all, he would disappoint his friends who all seemed to think he would be the one to hold up Gryffindor's continued success on the Quidditch pitch. Gryffindor had won the Quidditch Cup the last two times that the tournament had been held. He did not want to let his house down but he had no idea how he was going to lead them to victory again.

At least the weather was in his favour. It was warm, with a slight breeze which would help them all to stay focused. Harry had spent most of the day thinking about Quidditch. He and Ginny had talked about it after Potions today and she had asked if she could switch from Seeker to Chaser. This suited Harry perfectly because he had hoped to take back his Seeker position. This would mean that there was only one Chaser position left to fill. Harry had already made arrangements with McGonagall to book the pitch for Friday evening for the try-outs.

Harry and Ron reached the changing rooms early and Ron helped him to set up the equipment.

"Have you heard from you parents?" Harry asked Ron in an attempt to take his mind off the impending Quidditch practice.

"No," Ron said casually. "Ginny writes to Mum every week and she'd tell me if there's any news."

Harry thought it was strange that everything that had happened less than two weeks ago had just been pushed aside. Ron never seemed to want to talk about it and there had been nothing in the Daily Prophet. It was as though everyone was pretending it had never happened. Harry had at least expected some news from Hagrid about what the Order were doing, but Hagrid was keeping extremely quiet about the situation, too.

The other members of the team started to arrive and Harry was forced to push his thoughts to the back of his mind for now.

The practice went much better than Harry had expected. Ginny was a very talented Chaser and worked well with Katie Bell, the other Chaser. Jack Sloper and Andrew Kirke, the Beaters, had improved slightly over the summer. They were no where near as good as Fred and George Weasley had been, but there was definitely potential. Ron had sulked a bit when Harry insisted he remain Keeper. Ron had not been very good when he had been accepted into the position last year, but he had improved immensely. Harry did not want to start shifting him around different positions. He felt it would be better for him if he continued to concentrate on his Keeper position.

As for Harry himself, well he felt he could not have been better. Despite the fact that he had not been on a broomstick for months, the moment he mounted his Firebolt he felt the most confident he had been for a very long time. Flying was as natural to Harry as breathing. And as he soared across the Quidditch pitch, watching his fellow housemates follow his instructions, he did not think he could ever be happier.

When they entered the common room later that evening, Harry, Ron and Ginny were exhausted. Still in their Quidditch robes, they threw themselves into the armchairs by the fireplace with a chorus of sighs.

"How was Quidditch practice?" Hermione looked at the three of them over the top of her book.

"Tiring," Ron sighed again.

"How was it, Harry?" she directed the same question directly at him and he knew what she meant.

"It was great," Harry smiled briefly, but he was too tired to hold it for very long.

Hermione smiled back and returned to her book.

*****

Harry felt like he was walking on air for the next few days. Hermione had started asking when they would begin the DA meetings again, but all Harry cared about at the moment was Quidditch. He had brushed her off by saying that they would sort something out next week. The only thing he wanted to think about right now was Friday night and the trials for the new Chaser.

"Are you listening, Potter?"

Harry looked up to see Professor Whiting staring down at him.

"Um, yes, sir," he mumbled in reply. Harry was beginning to make a habit of daydreaming during his Defence Against the Dark Arts classes. Whiting spent a lot of time talking and Harry found him extremely boring.

"Alright, I think we'll have you as our first volunteer." Whiting beckoned Harry to follow him to the front of the class.

"Volunteer for what?" Harry whispered desperately to Hermione.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "Occlumency, you idiot," she hissed.

Harry was stricken. There was no way he was going to volunteer to let Whiting read his mind.

"I can't, sir," he said quickly. "Um, I, er, don't feel well." He made an unconvincing attempt at looking sick.

"Don't be ridiculous," Whiting laughed. "Now come on." He beckoned again for Harry to go to the front of the class.

Harry looked around. Every eye was on him. He looked desperately at Hermione again who gave him one of her knowing looks.

"Sir, I really don't think it would be a good idea," Hermione spoke confidently.

Whiting laughed. "Why not?"

"Because, er ..." Hermione's confidence faded rapidly. "Because ..."

"Get up here or I'll give you both detention," Whiting demanded at Harry.

There was no way Harry could risk detention with the try-outs on Friday. Without looking at Ron or Hermione, he got reluctantly to his feet and walked to the front of the class.

"Right then," Whiting smiled. "This is quite simple. I will attempt to break into your mind. Like I was saying before, the best way to stop someone reading your mind is to stop thinking. You need to clear your mind of all thought and emotion. Later in the term I will teach you ways of fighting the intruder off. But for now, all I want you to do is protect yourself by emptying your mind. Understand, Harry?"

"Yes," Harry replied coldly. He wondered if Whiting knew that he had done this before. Probably not. Whiting was far too self-obsessed to know anything about Harry's past.

"Ok, clear your mind."

Harry was so busy thinking hateful things about Whiting that he had forgotten how bad he was at clearing his mind. He was not ready for this. He tried to say so, but before he had a chance Whiting had said:

"Legilimens!"

The classroom dissolved around him and Harry could see images from his memory playing across his vision like an absurd moving photo album of his life. He tried desperately to clear his mind and make the images go away, but the more he tried, the faster they came. Some were stupid memories of his childhood; Uncle Vernon shouting at him; Dudley punching him in the stomach; Aunt Petunia scowling at him. But these soon became more recent memories; he was standing in front of a man with two faces; he was being chased by a giant snake; he was watching hundreds of black-hooded creatures float towards him; he was in a graveyard full of dark cloaked men; he was watching someone he loved fall to his death through a veil; he was surrounded by darkness in a small stone room.

"STOP IT!" he screamed.

He opened his eyes to find he had fallen backwards over Whiting's desk. His head hurt and his face was wet. He could feel the blood boiling in his face as he realised that the whole class was watching him. Some looked scared, others were enthralled.

Whiting was grinning as he held a hand out to Harry to help him up. Harry refused the hand and heaved himself up by holding onto the desk.

"Thank you, Harry," Whiting said as Harry made his way back to his seat. "That was a perfect demonstration of how not to do it."

Harry slumped into the chair feeling cold and shaky. Part of him wanted to just walk out of the class, but he needed this subject if he wanted any chance of becoming an Auror.

"Who's next?" Whiting asked.

"I'll have a go."

To Harry's surprise Ron had already left his seat. Harry grabbed his sleeve. "Don't, he urged him.

Ron shook him off. "I want to try it."

Harry looked to Hermione again but she just shook her head. She laid a hand on Harry's arm and whispered, "Let him go. He needs to experience these things for himself."

Harry gave in reluctantly. He had only this year begun to realise how much he had sheltered Ron from things in the past. Hermione was right. She was always right.

They both watched nervously as Ron stood at the front of the class, a look of deep concentration on his face.

"Legilimens!" Whiting repeated.

It was strange to see it happening to someone else and Harry could not help feeling intrigued. Whiting was staring avidly at Ron, but Ron had his eyes squeezed shut. His face was contorted into an odd shape and he kept stumbling backwards. After about a minute Ron dropped to his knees and exhaled a frustrated groan.

"Very good, Weasley," Whiting looked impressed as he helped Ron back onto his feet.

"D-did you s-see what I s-saw," Ron stammered as he tried to straighten himself.

"Bits of it," Whiting replied. "But you did an excellent job of blocking me out. Not bad at all for a first time."

Ron returned to his seat with a triumphant look on his face. "That wasn't so bad," he whispered to Harry.

But Harry ignored him.