Harry Potter and the Soul Shatterer

THE HUNTERS AND THE HUNTED

For the rest of his life, Harry would remember this last day spent at Privet Drive as one of his happiest ever, as the presence of his two best friends turned the house where he suffered so much into a haven of laughter and joyful chaos. Once the bulk of the packing more of less completed (thanks to Hermione's amazingly potent mocha), Ron and Hermione spent the remaining part of the day merrily flying and transforming various objects under Harry's instructions, and in spite of Dudley's desperate -and largely inefficient- efforts to prevent his or his parent's possessions from constantly changing shape or location.

The pandemonium did not even subside when the starving trio settled for lunch. Within minutes, the Dursley's usually hyper-orderly kitchen was abuzz with the sound of plates and forks flying out of cupboards and graciously looping in the air before landing -for the most part- on the table. The meal itself, which Ron and Harry wolfed avidly within minutes, was as hearty and as different from Aunt Petunia's hopelessly insipid cooking as possible, thanks to Hermione's newfound culinary talents, which Ron attributed to the Delacours' subversive influence.

Dudley, for his part, barely touched this strange and exotic food, supposedly because of lack of appetite, but more likely because he was too absorbed in his contemplation of Hermione to eat. And, as a matter of fact, Harry could not repress an inner feeling of satisfaction, whenever he and Hermione shared a joke or when she gave him a peck on the cheek, to see his cousin turning green with envy.

When Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon finally came home, after a long and costly afternoon with their reluctant banker in a fancy restaurant, their reaction to the presence of Harry's friends in their house was, at best, that of glacial countenance. Their uneasiness however gave way to utter relief when they realized that the newcomers were merely there to help their cumbersome nephew packing up for the last time. As the rest of the day went on, Petunia however managed to slightly warm up to Hermione, who undertook to help her tending to her thirsty azaleas, while Vernon kept pacing the living room, his eyes riveted on his watch.

***

It was already past eleven when Ron helped Harry carrying his trunk down the stairs, preceded by Hermione who was holding Hedwig's cage. The white owl, probably realizing what was going on, hooted with delight while flapping her wings, which only contributed to irritate Uncle Vernon, whose patience was by then wearing very thin.

As they all gathered in the living room, Vernon rose from his couch. "Well, boy," he started, in a grandiloquent tone that did not bode well, "it seems like the time has come for us to part. As you carry on with your life, though, I fervently hope that you will remember about all the sacrifices we had to endure for your sake!"

Harry opened his mouth with the firm intention to say what he has been meaning to tell his uncle for years, but before he could utter a word, Hermione intervened.

"Speaking of sacrifices," she told uncle Vernon. "I happen to have here a few figures which approximately amount to the financial compensation Harry is entitled to claim from you."

She opened her handbag and pulled a long sheet of paper from it. "Would you like you know them?" she asked calmly.

Vernon and Petunia's eyebrows rose so high they looked like they could touch the ceiling. "Compensation? To him?" Vernon stammered, his face turning violet.

"Certainly,'' replied Hermione, in a confident tone. "You most probably are aware that labor performed by a minor in order to extract a pecuniary profit -like the extra staircase Harry built this summer, so you could rent his room after he leaves- is liable for compensation. At least, this is what I learned from my father's lawyer, Mr. Piggot-Smythe, who would be more than happy to assist Harry in court, if there was to be a lawsuit intended against you." She turning towards Harry, and added, "But I am sure that Harry would be more than happy to settle for a simple apology on your part for all the cruel treatment you inflicted upon him during the last seventeen years."

At the mention of the word 'lawsuit', Vernon's face turned almost blue, and Harry thought for a moment that his uncle was having a heart attack. "WHAT? ME? APOLOGIZING?" he bellowed.

He stepped forward, his index pointing menacingly at Hermione. "Now, listen here, you little-" he started.

But, before he could get to her, Ron stepped in, blocking his way. "You want to mind your language, Sir," he hissed, towering over Uncle Vernon, his face white with anger. "Especially when talking to a lady."

"Do you intend to threaten me in my own house, young man?" growled Vernon, raising his fists.

"Well, maybe I do, Sir," replied Ron, still pale, as he pointed his wand at Vernon's face. "You see, unlike Harry, I am of age..."

For a moment, it seemed like Ron and Uncle Vernon were about to jump at each other's throats, when a voice rose from a distant corner of the living room:

"She's right, Dad."

All eyes turned towards Dudley, who was looking at his father with the expression of someone who expected to get stricken by a lightning any moment.

"She's what? W-what do you mean, son?" asked Vernon, too stupefied by this unexpected rebellion to even be angry.

Dudley hesitated, then said, looking at the floor, "You always told me that what really matters in life are costs versus benefits. Well, if you look at it that way, Harry didn't cost us that much, did he?"

Completely speechless, Uncle Vernon turned towards his wife for help, only to see that she was as unable to reply as he was. Then, without a word, he turned on his heels and walked back to his couch where he slumped, his arms folded, turning his back at everybody.

After a long, embarrassing silence, Harry said, "Well, time to go, I guess." Both he and Ron lifted the trunk and slowly headed towards the exit, followed by Hermione.

In the hall, Harry turned towards the living room. "Goodbye, then," he said to Uncle Vernon, who grunted, but did not reply, his back still turned.

Harry turned towards his cousin. "Bye, Dudley," he briefly said.

Dudley managed for a brief moment not to look at Hermione. "Bye," he echoed.

As they stepped outside, Harry felt a hand pulling his arm. He looked up and saw that Aunt Petunia was staring at him, a strange expression on her stern horse-like face.

"I don't know what you were trying to do with your little mind-reading trick, but it won't work with me," she said curtly.

She produced a large parched envelope and handed it to Harry. "If you really want to know more about your parents, you'll find your answers here," she added.

Harry took the envelope, stunned. "Where did you keep this?"

"At the bank, in the family vault," replied Aunt Petunia. "Your mother asked me to keep it until you're of age. It's yours now."

"Well- thanks," Harry mumbled hesitantly, staring at the envelope.

As his aunt did not reply, he looked up at her. She was gazing away, with a vague melancholic expression he had never seen before. Then, realizing he was staring at her, she looked back at him, and the sadness instantly disappeared from her eyes. "Well? What are you waiting for? Go with your- friends!" she said in a harsh tone. And before Harry could add a word, she shut the door almost in his face.

"Come on, Harry," said Ron, still holding a trunk handle. "Let's go."

They walked away from the house, in silence. Harry was nervously clutching the envelope as if he feared that it would fly away. At last, he had a clue to start from.

Seems like all that Legilimency practice was worth it, after all, he thought.

Hermione finally broke the silence. "I didn't know I was a lady, Ron," she said with a smile. "If I remember correctly, not long ago, I didn't even qualify as a girl."

Ron blushed, and looked away, trying to avoid her gaze. "Well, you do qualify as both, end of story," he mumbled.

He turned around, and his eyes fell on the house they had just left. "Hey, look," he said, pointing at the living room window. Dudley was still there, staring at them.

"Seems like you've broken another heart, Hermione," said Ron maliciously.

Hermione shook her head. "The poor boy," she said. "Luckily you didn't end up like him, Harry."

Harry had a harsh laugh. "Yeah, I guess I'm lucky not to have had a Mum and a Dad to spoil me, like he had," he sniggered.

Hermione turned towards Harry, her cheeks crimson. "I'm so sorry, Harry, I didn't mean to-" she broke off.

"That's all right," said Harry, patting her on the back. "I'm getting used to it."

"This seems a pretty decent place to disapparate," Ron intervened, visibly anxious to change the subject. Hermione and Harry looked around. They were next to a small park, nor far from the spot where Dementors attacked Dudley, two years ago. How time flies, though Harry, as he silently stared at the surrounding lawns and houses. All this seems to have been belonged to someone else's life. And, in fact, maybe it did.

"Will you remember how to do it?" Ron asked Harry.

"Sure, just give me a minute to prepare myself," replied Harry.

He looked once more at the street, as if trying to take with him a last glimpse of the first life he had ever known, for his final journey. As he prepared to leave Privet Drive forever, he was surprised to not feel any emotion, neither joy nor sadness. A new life was beginning for him, and his Muggle past simply did not matter any more. Only the future counted now, along with all the risks and promises it involved. The hunt had started, and the game he was tracking down was the most elusive -and dangerous- of all: Voldemort's shattered soul.

Ron pulled an old-fashioned chained watch from his pocket, opened it, and started to count. "Five...four... three... two... one... midnight!"

Closing his watch, he turned towards his friend and shook his hand. "Happy birthday, Mate!" he said, with a wide smile. "Welcome to the real world!"

Hermione took Harry's both hands in hers. "Happy birthday, Harry. All the best to you!" she said, before kissing him on both cheeks.

"So," Ron asked Harry, "to the Burrow?"

"To the Burrow," echoed Harry, in a dreamlike voice.

As the night settled in Abbot's Woods, the enduring heat finally gave way to a soft nocturnal breeze, to the apparent relief of the forest's nightjars -and of the residents of the log cabin huddled between the stately oaks.

Not that the miserable interior of the cabin needed air conditioning. In fact, the air inside the candle-lit single room had a sort of unnatural coolness that had nothing to do with the gentle nightly breeze. But the silence of the night birds came so suddenly that it did not elude the attention of the pointy-chinned, blond-haired teenage boy who was lying down on a mold-ridden couch.

"At last!" sighed the boy with relief. "I don't think I could have endured one more minute of this racket!"

The middle-aged blond woman sitting at a nearby table turned towards him, apparently startled. "I thought you were asleep," she said. "You need some rest, darling."

The boy had an impatient gesture. "How could I, with those wretched things chirping out there?" he snapped back, sounding exasperated. "Couldn't you at least try to silence them, Mother?"

"I told you, Draco, we must avoid using magic, at least as long as we are here," the woman replied, in a calm yet firm tone. "We cannot take any inconsiderate risk."

The boy called Draco looked at the peeling wallpaper on the surrounding walls with utter disgust. "I hate this place," he snarled. "I just can't believe that with all the family's wealth, we cannot find a more decent hideout!"

"Calm down," ordered his mother. "You know very well that all our properties have been seized by the Ministry. Our wealth is all but useless now."

"What about all those acquaintances you and Father used to brag about?" replied Draco with a sneer. "Couldn't they help us somehow?"

Narcissa Malfoy gave her son a hard look. "Friends are like dead leaves in the wind, they just pass -you should also know that. Did any of your devoted Slytherin friends even lift a finger to help you?"

She paused, and stared at the candlelight. "We should be grateful that Severus found out this refuge. At least, he did not let us down," she said.

"And I'd be grateful if you'd quit praising him endlessly," snarled Draco. "It seems almost as if we should start worshipping him, now."

"This will do, Draco!" Narcissa replied curtly. "Why are you so cross with him? Do I have to remind you who was always looking after you all those years you were in Hogwarts? And who alone came to your help in the hour of need?"

"He stole my glory!" Malfoy almost shouted, pointing at himself. "I was to perform the task, not him! It was our only chance to rescue Father from Azkaban!"

"And you failed," replied his mother in a low voice. Malfoy did not reply, visibly taken aback.

"And now, our only hope lies with Severus," Narcissa kept on, deliberately not looking at her son. "Who knows, now that he has proved himself to be such a loyal servant to the Dark Lord, perhaps he will be listened to if he pleads our case..."

"I will allow nobody to plead for me!" shouted Malfoy, trying to sound indignant. "I'd rather go talk to the Dark Lord myself!"

"Merlin forbid," replied his mother glumly. "Then you would die. Or worse."

Malfoy opened his mouth to reply, but this time his words died in his throat. Both he and his mother had heard the sound, a sound that both froze their blood in their veins.

It was the sound of light footsteps, outside the cabin. Human footsteps.

Malfoy hurriedly fell back behind Narcissa, who slowly stood up. "C-could it be him? S-Snape?" he croaked, pale as a shroud.

Before his mother could answer, the door blew out open in a flash of blinding light. Two black-robed figures appeared at the doorstep, both hooded and masked.

"FLEE, DRACO! I'LL HOLD THEM BACK!" screamed Narcissa.

As she drew her wand, one of the Death Eaters, a short and stocky man, pointed his and shouted, "Stupefy!" Narcissa fell on the ground with a piercing shriek.

Too panicked to even remember how to disapparate, Malfoy leaped towards the back door, but as just he pushed it open, he heard a loud crack, and a hooded figure suddenly materialized in front of him. Before he could turn on his heels, a cold and silvery hand grabbed him by the throat and pinned him against the wall.

Half suffocated, Malfoy was about to faint, when he heard a familiar female voice, a voice as hard and cold as the hand that was throttling him.

"Don't strangle my dear nephew, Wormtail!" the voice said. "We still need him alive -at least for now..."

The silver hand slightly released its deadly grip, and Malfoy convulsively gulped some air. Looking up, he saw the female death eater approaching him, her wand lowered. When she was only a few feet away, she pulled off her mask, and he recognized at once the pale, bony face and the heavy-lidded eyes of the newcomer.

"Tut-tut, you naughty boy," said Bellatrix in a mock childish voice. "Is this a way to greet your dear auntie Bella?"

"You? B-but why-?" rasped Malfoy, his throat still in Wormtail's grip.

"Release him," she told Wormtail. "Just keep his wand."

Wormtail reluctantly obliged, and Malfoy slowly slipped on the floor, clutching his throat and coughing noisily, his eyes streaming.

"So," Bellatrix resumed, looking at the surrounding room with undisguised contempt. "This is where you two have been holed up all that time - a pigsty, not even fit for Muggles! And to think it once belonged to the family..."

"H- how did you find us?" Malfoy finally managed to utter. "S-Snape?"

Bellatrix shook her head. "Your favorite teacher has nothing to do with our presence here. He's still bound to you by the Unbreakable Vow, have you forgotten?"

The sound of a whimper interrupted her. She turned towards looking at Narcissa, who was slowly coming back to her senses, crumpled on the floor.

"I'm afraid that your dear mother made the regrettable mistake of choosing Rabastan's safe house as your hideout," Bellatrix sniggered. "This idiot did manage to conceal his rat-hole from the Dark Lord when he fled, but not from me!"

She paused and added, with a grin that sent a shiver down her nephew's spine, "I used to play hide-and-seek with Rabastan in this very place when we were children. Seems like Cissy must have forgotten this tiny detail. Pity."

"But... why are you here?" risked Malfoy's, his eyes shifting from his aunt to Wormtail, anxiously waiting for an answer. As nobody answered, he added, his voice trembling. "You're not taking us back to him -are you?"

"Afraid of meeting your Master?" asked Bellatrix with a sneer. "Yes, you are very good at talking, Draco, but acting is another matter. I wonder why... It cannot be Lucius' fault, no. He may be arrogant, to the point of sheer stupidity, but he never was a coward. I'd say it is rather your spoiling mother who must be blamed for your complete lack of spine."

Malfoy leaped on his feet, but froze at the sight of Wormtail's wand pointed at him. "How can you talk of my family like that?" he hissed, as he fell back.

Bellatrix stepped forward, and looked down at him, her eyes shining with anger. "If you are so concerned about your family, how could you have let them down?" she spat.

Malfoy tried to talk, but she cut him short. "Do you have any idea of what your abject failure represents for all of us? You destroyed our last chance to gain back the confidence of the Dark Lord! All those years loyally serving Him are now wasted! And all this because you lacked the nerve to fulfill the noble task that He bestowed upon you!"

"I would have done it!" Malfoy said, trying in vain to sound assertive. "Its was all Snape's fault! He spoiled everything because he wanted all the glory for hims-"

"Quiet!" Bellatrix snapped. "Spare us your poor excuses, they will not save you!"

"We should proceed now," mumbled Wormtail, intervening for the first time.

Bellatrix nodded, and drew out her wand. "Shall we go, then?" she asked her nephew. "Or do we have to stun you first?"

Malfoy clumsily tried to stand up, and fell back against the wall. "You c-can't do this to me! You can't just t-take me back to Him!" he whimpered, livid with fear.

"And why not, may I know?" said Bellatrix with a smirk. "The Dark Lord would certainly appreciate this little proof of loyalty from His most faithful servants!"

"But why me?" cried Malfoy. "It's P-Potter you should be after, not me!"

"Potter is no longer of your concern, he belongs to the Dark Lord!" she replied harshly.

"Then, I can help!" said Malfoy, frantically. "I know things about Potter that may interest the Dark Lord!!"

Bellatrix took a step back and lowered her wand. "Well, well," she said, with a wily smile. "How knowledgeable you are, all of a sudden! Go ahead, then, impress us -tell us what you know!"

"Potter and Dumbledore were up to something the night we attacked! They were on a secret mission, out of the Castle!"

"And, of course, you happen to know all about the nature of this 'secret mission'...Do you?" said Bellatrix derisively.

Malfoy put a shaky hand on his forehead, desperately trying to remember the details of that fateful night.

"All I know is that it didn't work smoothly for them," he finally said. "Dumbledore wasn't well when I saw him on the Tower. He looked sort of- sick."

Bellatrix's smile widened. "Those aren't any news worthy of the name," she said. "Alecto also noticed that Dumbledore wasn't well."

"She did?" Malfoy felt his heart sinking to new depths. "All right, all right! I'll tell you more! Potter's going out with that Weasley girl! If you get her, you can get to him as well!" he uttered nervously.

Bellatrix shook her head, apparently unimpressed. "Those are yesterday's news as well, dear. If this is all you have to offer..." She broke off and pointed her wand at him.

"NO! WAIT! DON'T! Malfoy cried. "There's something else! Snape! He's been up to something as well -with Dumbledore!"

This time, Bellatrix's reaction was different. She and Wormtail exchanged a brief look. A look of triumph, as it seemed to Malfoy.

Bellatrix took a step closer. "What sort of -'something' were they up to?" she asked, her eyes shining with curiosity.

Malfoy took a deep breath. There was still a way out.

"It was one Sunday night, in May", said Malfoy, hurriedly. "I had been working late fixing the Vanishing Cabinet, and I was on my way back to the dormitory. Just as I was passing near the Headmaster's office, I saw the door opening. I hid behind a pillar, and saw Snape coming out of the office, with Dumbledore on his heels."

"What did they talk about?" Wormtail asked, impatiently.

"Well, I heard-" Malfoy began, but his aunt stopped him with a gesture.

"No! I don't want him to tell us anything," she told Wormtail, while keeping her eyes on her prostrated nephew. "He could make up some story to please us, or hide some detail on purpose. We need more tangible evidence."

She pulled out of her robes a tiny crystal flacon, and held it in front of Malfoy's face.

"I want your memory of this event -and you are going to give it to me," she said in a low voice. "Oh, and I would strongly advise you not to use Occlumency while I read your thoughts. That would be really too stupid."

Malfoy nodded, without saying anything. Bellatrix bent over, and touched her nephew's sweat-drenched forehead with the tip of her wand. Malfoy closed his eyes, doing his utmost not to resist, as his memories of that night flowed back to him.

The dark corridor... The Headmaster's door... A dark robed figure storming out... Then the sound of an aged voice, calm yet resolute.

"Severus!"

The black-robed figure stopped, but did not turn round.

"Let me be," hissed Snape, fists clenched, his sallow face ever paler than usual.

"Not before you promise me to listen to the end, " replied Dumbledore.

"I have listened enough!" Snape's voice was barely more than a whisper. "What you are asking me is beyond my strength. I just cannot grant you this wish."

Dumbledore's voice was firm yet full of sadness. "The other side is growing stronger with each passing day. Soon the time will come when these walls will no longer protect us from them. We must now take the fight into their camp, and only you can do it, Severus. But for that, they will need the ultimate proof of your loyalty."

Snape suddenly turned around, facing Dumbledore. His face was contorted. "Do you realize what you are expecting from me?" he said. "Haven't I done enough already? Haven't I burned enough bridges, put myself enough on the line for you? And now, you want me to become a pariah to the Wizard World, a vile mur-"

Dumbledore interrupted him. "I do not expect you to become what you are about to say, Severus." He went on. "Soon, you may realize that, far from committing what you are afraid to commit, you will merely help fate."

Snape's face froze. "Headmaster..." he muttered.

Dumbledore put a wrinkled hand on Snape's shoulder, "It is time to demonstrate to those on the other side that there is in this world a power beyond all what they could possibly imagine," he said. "Only two wizards can unleash this power -you and him!"

As Snape did not reply, Dumbledore added, with gravity, "Remember that you are not doing this for him, or even for me -but for her!"

For a moment, Snape looked like he was about to say something, but then unexpectedly turned on his heels, and strode away, without a word.

Dumbledore waited for a long moment then slowly headed back to his office, his shoulders stooped, as though he was carrying a heavy burden.

A thickening fog... A triumphant laughter...

Malfoy opened his eyes. Bellatrix was holding the tiny flacon, now filled with a transparent substance -his memory. She was grinning, and that grin only added to Malfoy's apprehension.

"Is it -enough?" asked Wormtail, who was looking at the flacon with unconcealed avidity.

"It is more than we need," replied Bellatrix, hiding it in her robes. "You can thank your excellent memory, Draco. It may have saved you, at least this time."

Malfoy felt he could breathe again. "Does that mean that you won't-?"

"Take you with us?" completed Bellatrix, still grinning. "The Dark Lord would certainly reward us for this, but as He did say himself, you are not a priority to Him. Besides, you could be of further use to us. Only-"

Without a warning, she grabbed Malfoy's arm and struck it with her wand, while shouting "Signum Ignis!"

Malfoy shrieked and pulled out his arm. Right below his wrist, a red skull-shaped mark was pulsating, as if alive.

"W-what is that?" he whimpered, clutching his arm.

A tracing spell," said Bellatrix, matter-of-factly. "This way, if you try to escape, this" -she pointed at her wand- "will find you, wherever you go." She stood up. "Well, time to go, I presume."

She headed towards the exit, followed by Wormtail. But, just as she reached the doorstep, she stopped. "I trust you will take good care of my dear sister while you remain here, Draco, " she said over her shoulder, indifferent to her nephew's sobbing. "I shall pay her another visit. Very soon."

And, having said this, she and her companion disappeared into the night.

(To be continued)