The Darkness of the Soul

CHAPTER SEVEN - A Letter from Home and Quidditch At Durmstrang

Harry opened the letter, and a slip of paper fell out. He ignored it for now, and looked down at the bottom first, for the signature - it was signed "Moony". A letter from Remus Lupin - that was unexpected.

The letter started off with mere pleasantries, and good wishes for his time at Durmstrang, before it turned more serious.

"Harry," Lupin wrote, "I'm afraid that Ginny Weasley's in trouble. The Ministry thinks she might know something about where you are, that she might have helped hide you. Durmstrang hasn't let word of your teaching there get out yet, but it will probably filter out at Christmas, when the students go home for their holidays. Until then, if you do have any way of talking to Ginny, don't. They're threatening to treat her as your accomplice.

"I'd also advise you to be cautious. You probably don't need to hear me say that. I know you probably don't trust anyone, and after what Dumbledore did to you, I can't blame you. I think if he'd trusted you, he could have taught you how to block Orpheus like he did your Mum and Dad, and you might have gone for it. There's nothing we can do about that now, though. They finally let Hermione come to the school after you left, and I've never seen anyone cry like she did that day. I swear she looked like she was about to kill Albus, and she ended up spending a week locked up with Minerva before she stomped off.

"Did you say anything to Snape before you left? He gave me a year's supply of wolfsbane potion, and hugged me like a brother. Really uncomfortable. I don't hate him anymore, haven't really since I was a kid, but I don't like him like that. Weird."

"Don't try to write me back. Owls can't find you where you're at, so Hedwig would have to stay here with me. I'm afraid you're on your own for real, now.

"With love, Moony"

Harry felt oddly moved by the sound of Hermione's protests on his behalf. That must have been just before she wrote Viktor, asking him to help out Harry. He had thought that she had moved on, but maybe she hadn't, and Viktor was still reading too much into her letters. Or maybe she did care about Viktor, and she just thought of herself as his friend, but he was still happy she hadn't abandoned him.

He picked up the slip of paper, and saw that it was an article from the Daily Prophet about Ginny. It stopped just short of accusing her in Falco's near murder, and hinted that she deserved at least as much punishment as the real perpetrator, who had fled justice.

He wanted to talk to someone about this, but he couldn't talk to Kirsten. He settled on Hedwig, instead. At least she wouldn't do more than nip him in response.

He read the letter again, aloud, to her. "What do you think Hedwig? Is there any way I could have possibly messed up my friends' lives any more than I already have?"

Hedwig and the strange owl, which Harry had almost forgotten about, both cooed, and Hedwig came over to nip at his fingers. He stood up, after a moment, and walked over to the speaking tube, ordering up some mouse treats before he went down to dinner. After all, he hoped to keep the only two friends he had left.

He had to wonder how, if Hedwig couldn't find her way back to him again, she had found him this time. It was very convenient for Remus that Harry had no way of asking him that without the risk of losing his owl.

~.~.~

The first day of Quidditch this season was between last year's first and second place finishers, House Dalmuti and House Tepes. It was a brutal game, with the bludgers seeming especially nasty, and the fouls flying freely.

Harry noticed that each team had a full set of reserves on the sidelines, in full dress, and he was surprised when he saw them being brought in. "Durmstrang rules," Kirsten volunteered, and that was when he first noticed that she'd taken the seat next to him. "They're not as aggressive in calling fouls, and we kept having games decided by which team's Seeker was knocked out first. They decided that it was better to bend the rules and allow substitutes than to try to change Durmstrang students."

Harry nodded in appreciation. "You seem to know a lot about Quidditch."

"I used to come to all the practices and games here. I listen well," she said, without making it sound too much like a barb at Harry.

"I'm sure you do." He didn't respond by counter-attacking. This new Kirsten was quite a change.

The match went fairly long for a school game - about two hours later, the score tied at a hundred, Harry realized that Kirsten had started leaning against him. She must have done it gradually, or he would have noticed sooner, but it felt nice.

He tried not to start too much, but she noticed his reaction. "I'm sorry," she said, looking bashful. "I did not mean to bother you."

"No, it's OK." He could hear the titter of students' laughter behind him, and figured that someone else had noticed. "These games can get pretty tiring. I'm happy to serve as a pillow."

"Do you think they'll catch the Snitch soon?"

"Well, they've missed it a few times already - I wonder if they're waiting to push the score a little higher, or trying to give the bludgers a chance to bruise up the competition."

"Really? You've seen it?"

"Sure. It's right behind the Dalmuti goal post right now, on the right hand side."

"I can't see it, but I trust you," she said. Harry was tempted to point, but that was generally considered bad etiquette at Quidditch matches. "Wait! I see it now. Viktor always used to..." She trailed off.

Harry started to connect the dots, and suddenly realized why she'd stopped coming to Quidditch matches. He didn't feel like probing just yet, though. He was the last one who could give relationship advice.

"I've gotten pretty used to spotting them," he said, trying to continue on the topic rather than sidetracking to things he felt were better unsaid. "For a long time, it was just part of who I was."

"What happened?" she asked, and he realized he'd managed to steer from one uncomfortable topic to another.

"Quidditch was something I did with a friend. He died. I couldn't play anymore after that."

"Oh." His direct statements seemed to have knocked her off guard, and she went back to watching the game, as did he. Neither Seeker had reacted to the Snitch yet. Harry wondered if Viktor had seen it. He looked for the Bulgarian, and saw him down at the base of the field, but Viktor didn't seem to be watching the game that intently.

He was staring right back at Harry, and seemed unconcerned that Harry had met his gaze. There was a look of fury on his face, and Harry wasn't sure what he'd done to merit it, but assumed it had something to do with Viktor's love life. After all, Viktor's love life was the thing that seemed most able to keep him angry.

As he looked, he felt Kirsten tense next to him. He looked at her, and saw that she was now glaring at Viktor. Harry was tempted to start shouting and pointing at the Snitch to break the discomfort, but she chose something more direct. She turned away from Viktor's glare, sniffling, and then locked eyes with Harry. "He thinks he can own me, even after leaving me for someone else."

"I'm sorry," he said, candidly. "I told you before, I'm not really Viktor's friend. I'd like to be yours, though."

She looked him in the eyes, and then grabbed him, planting a loud kiss on his unsuspecting lips.

There was a huge gasp from around him, and he assumed that he was going to spend the next few months as the butt of many students' jokes, but then he heard a scream. Standing, Harry saw that a dark cloud had formed over the other end of the field, and it was slowly advancing onto the pitch. He saw the team trying to flee the cloud. As the Dalmuti Seeker flew out of it, he seemed to be having trouble breathing, and his broom wavered from side to side, then headed straight for one of the stone walls on the side, over fifty feet above the ground.

Harry stood, grabbing his wand. "Accio Broom!" He shouted, and the student and broom both flew to his seat, where he caught them. Kirsten pulled the student away, and started to apply first aid charms, but Harry began to march through the flood of panicking students, straight for the cloud. Above and behind him, the strange brown owl shadowed his movements.

Harry had seen something like this before, in his sixth year. The favorite weapons of the Death Eaters had always been ones that terrified people, and this was no exception. The cloud had, at it's heart, at least three Dark Wizards, who were feeding it with their life forces, although it would happily drink of anyone else's it happened to touch.

Girard caught up with Harry. "Professor Potter, I would say that this is your area of expertise."

"Yes, Headmaster. I'll take care of it."

"You have my full permission to use whatever means are necessary, whatever they may be - including your so-called Unforgivables."

Harry wasn't giving him his full attention - he always used whatever means were necessary, and thought about it later, and official permission wasn't going to make him do any more to save the students. The part about the Unforgivables, though, reached him. He could use Avada Kedavra - if he managed to kill one of the three Wizards at the heart, the other two would be sucked dry by the cloud before it dissipated. He knew he could cast the Killing curse; it would be so easy to just do it...

He continued trying to fight through the crowd of students to get a clearer shot, before finally grabbing the broom from one of the Chasers that had crashed and heading into the middle of the field.

The cloud was immense, as wide as the field and growing, and there were winds whistling inside. The Quidditch balls were occasionally visible, whipped by the winds into and out of the cloud. Harry wasn't sure if any of the students were missing, but he thought they had all gotten out of the way safely.

As he prepared his curse, he saw one of the bludgers fly out and miss him, before flying back to the cloud. He was grateful it had missed, he didn't have much strength to spare, and he thought the Durmstrang bludgers were a little over strength. Then he realized it hadn't missed everyone, just him. He saw the owl plummet past, trying to control its descent, its right wing twisted at an odd angle.

The wind whistled, and he heard Girard shouting, augmented by a Sonorous charm. "Now! You must do it now!"

He pulled his wand back, and his lip curled, as he let his hatred for Dark Wizards flow through him. "Avada --"

He heard a shout as he spoke the first word, and he stopped. "Harry!" It was coming from the cloud. He couldn't identify the voice, it was more anguished than any he'd ever heard, but it sounded like a woman.

His hatred turned to fear, and his curse fizzled. He pointed his wand at the middle of the cloud, and started firing off Stupifys, Jelly-Legs, and Expelliarmus, until the cloud suddenly vanished.

At its heart were four wizards and the poor crippled owl, all knocked out. Harry recognized three of the four wizards - Remus Lupin, and Mr. and Mrs. Van Hoek - Falco's parents. He didn't know the fourth, but as he was wearing the dark robes of a Death Eater, Harry assumed he was the one who'd been casting the spell with the Van Hoek's. He quickly took the wands from the three, and shoved them in his pocket, but he figured that he could finish with them later.

Remus looked utterly defeated. His face was bruised, and his arms were scarred, with silver-plated bands holding them together. Harry quickly severed the bands and threw the pieces away, and picked up the werewolf, his wand still in hand.

The owl cooed, and Harry looked at her. "I'm sorry, girl, but I'm not sure what I can do for you." The owl looked at him in great pain, and he couldn't just leave her. He flicked the wand at the owl carefully, and spoke the words to levitate it up and on top of Remus.

Carrying Remus back to the Castle wasn't easy, and Harry reflected that he might have been remiss in his exercise recently. It would have been much worse, however, if Remus' time away from Hogwarts hadn't been so hard on him. As it was, Harry thought he had probably lost a third of his weight since they'd last met.

Getting back to the Castle, Harry took one of the passages he'd mapped out up to the Hospital Ward. The Ward was on the third floor of the Castle, and it was about twice the size of the one at Hogwarts. Reflecting on the carnage at the Quidditch match, that probably wasn't excessive.

Many were calling for the attention of the Healers - there were two of them, who normally took turns for each other, but both were on duty now. Harry stuck Lupin on one of the beds, and tried to Ennervate him. He didn't wake up, but he seemed to be sleeping more easily, so Harry just grabbed the nearest Healer and gave him a synopsis of the situation, cutting in front of a number of bruised children in order to do so.

The Healer, Maxwell, didn't seem taken aback at all by the fact that he had a werewolf in his ward, and assured Harry that it was another three weeks until the next full moon. Checking on Lupin, he seemed to think that he would probably sleep for at least another day, but that there was no serious harm.

While he was checking on Lupin, he also glanced at the owl. "Is she yours?"

Harry nodded. "She got hurt out there, too. Do you have anything for her?"

The Healer pointed his wand at her wing and muttered a phrase, and it straightened. The owl seemed extremely grateful, and immediately flew off through an open door and out of the way.

Harry shrugged at the Healer's look. "She's pretty independent minded."

"I see. I'll be sure to let you know if his condition changes." The Healer turned, and it was clear that Harry had been dismissed.

He didn't give Lupin quite the treatment that he had Hermione - in fact, he left the Hospital Ward immediately. He wasn't sure why he wasn't sitting by the man's bed, the last of his father's best friends, but he didn't want to overanalyze himself.

Instead, he walked the halls, until it became clear he was on his way to Kirsten's quarters. Talk about something that doesn't need analyzing, he thought. Harry knocked on her door, and was grateful when she opened it.

"Are you alright?" They both said together, and then both laughed.

She answered first. "I'm fine, Harry. Thank you for caring. But you; I wanted to help you, but Girard made me leave."

"I guess he was pretty confidant that I could take them on," Harry said, although he had a nagging feeling that there was something else going on. After eight years of having a Headmaster who hid the truth from you, it wasn't hard to believe that there was another here. Perhaps it was a prerequisite of being Headmaster, it went with the beard and spectacles.

"Perhaps that's it." She didn't seem any more convinced than he. "I'm glad you're alright. Harry, I wanted to apologize about... what I did. It was so childish, I know, but I thought that maybe I could make Viktor feel something."

Harry had figured that one out for himself. "I'd feel mad at being used, but given the target, I can't bring myself to mind. I did have a question, though."

"Yes?"

"Are you going to the Halloween Ball tomorrow night? And, perhaps more importantly, is Viktor?"

~.~.~

Viktor paced in his room. His eyes were shut, as he navigated by memory and feel. He should have been glad to see Harry getting along with Kirsten. Hermione had hinted that her friend had experienced relationship problems in the last few years. Seeing him starting a friendship was something that helped ease Viktor's mind, even if it was with Kirsten. He bit his lip. Should he warn Harry what he was getting into? Or should he just hope that Harry would be more successful than he had been? He was furious with Kirsten for putting him in this position -- having to choose between hurting Harry by telling him about Kirsten, or making it possible for her to hurt him later.

Viktor and Kirsten had been friends for years, and they had seemed like the perfect couple to most of Durmstrang. The news that made him decide to finally break things off had been sudden.

He remembered the scene well. He had stormed into Kirsten's office, scaring the wits out of a pair of first year students, who quickly left. His lip had been protruding, his long, black hair streaming out behind him. She had looked scared of him.

He had accused her. She had denied it. He had offered proof. She had asked for trust. He had refused her. She had begged him for another chance. He had stormed from the room. She had returned the ring he gave her.

Hermione's note had shown up the next week, and Viktor had grabbed to her friendship like a lifeline.

Today, seeing Kirsten with Harry, reminded Viktor of her betrayal. It reminded him that he had to be careful about who he trusted, that giving trust was an invitation to be hurt.

He abruptly stopped as he ran into something. He opened his eyes - his coffee table had moved a foot to the right, where it was in his path. He hadn't left it there.

Someone cleared his throat, and Viktor raised his eyes to the couch. There was a dark robed man there, sitting motionless and silent. Viktor stepped back -- he hadn't heard even a breath from his intruder. He asked brusquely, "What do you want?"

The intruder's voice sounded like it came from the bottom of a well. It was faint and distorted, and Viktor had to strain to make out the words. "You lied to me, when last we met. You said that there was nothing that you wanted." The intruder held his hand up, revealing Hermione's letter.

Viktor was angry. He growled as he reached for the man's hand, "Give that back to me!" The intruder relinquished the letter, seeming amused.

"Of course, I've taken all I need from it. Now, shall we talk business?"

"There is nothing that you have that I want," Viktor said, "Leave, and do not bother me again."

The intruder steepled his hands, and although his eyes were hidden by his hood, he seemed to be staring into Viktor. "I will leave, but consider this. You may not have all that you expect. If you were to find that your Hermione was leaning towards the arms of another, how would you react? Would you be willing to fight for her?"

"That will never happen," Viktor spat back, angrily. His face was transformed, his veins ugly, protruding on his forehead and neck. His bottom lip was sticking out, and his hair was standing on end. "She would never betray me."

"I have my answer," the intruder said, and he stood, turning his back on Viktor as he walked towards the door. Viktor found his anger deflating, in the face of the man's apparent lack of interest. As the intruder reached the door, he turned, looking at Viktor. "You are blessed with a quality that is rare today, the ability to see what you want to see despite all evidence to the contrary. Such conviction in the face of the obvious is usually repugnant to me, such faith anathema to all that I trust. In you, however," the man finished with a bow, "I can think of nothing that would serve me better. Good day."

The intruder continued out the door, shutting it behind him.

Viktor was lost by the man's fancy speech, which had been entirely in English. He could tell that he was being laughed at, but he couldn't understand why. What was laughable about trusting in one so pure?

He was disturbed by something else, though, and it bothered him in his sleep that night. Why hadn't he stopped the man from leaving?