The Darkness of the Soul

It had taken Harry until the second week in February to complete his map, and not just because of the headaches associated with the Potions and Charms, or the time taken by his duties.

Death Eaters had attacked Durmstrang again. They were attacking almost weekly, although never en masse or in as coordinated a way as they had previously. They would ride broomsticks to within sight of the walls and then levitate a guard off of them, or attack using a Cloak of Invisibility.

No students had died yet, although some attacks had been frightfully close. Harry reluctantly realized that Hogwarts would not have been so lucky. Durmstrang's martial pose had prepared them with reaction plans and contingencies. Guards on the walls carried port-keys, so that they couldn't be knocked into the chasm like a hapless cartoon coyote. Wards fired if a Cloak of Invisibility or Disillusionment Charm approached. They were fairly secure, but that didn't prevent them from asking their Dark Arts Studies Professor to do his part.

He was exhausted. He had taken to eating his meals in his quarters to have some quiet time to himself, and he'd only barely saved his map from having the spells fizzle due to inattention. He'd lost a few features along the way, but nothing that would keep him from his goal, he hoped.

Now he was done, though, and he expected that tonight, he could find the password to enter the Highly Restricted Section. He hoped he would find something there that would answer his questions, and he especially hoped that Girard wouldn't find out.

To celebrate, he treated himself to dinner in the Great Hall. It was a Friday night, and the mood in the Hall was boisterous. All the more so, he realized, because there was going to be a Valentine's ball next week.

Harry was squeamish at the thought of the Ball. It would mark a year since he'd talked to Ginny last, a year since he'd made the mistake that had cost him his Freedom and almost cost an eleven-year-old Hogwart's student his life.

He knew that it would probably come up in conversation at the table, and he regretted being there. Kirsten waved at him, though, looking entirely too happy to see him.

Even Viktor looked happy that Harry had shown up, although not without a gleam of victory in his eye. Harry was concerned about that look of victory. He wondered how long he would have to wait to hear what it was about, although he wasn't sure he really wanted to know.

As it turned out, he did not have to wait long. As soon as Harry had sat down, Viktor cleared his throat. Given Viktor's fondness for glottal stops, it was a sound full of enough mucus to make Harry wince. "I am making an announcement, now. I wish to tell you all that I am going to be marrying a most wonderful English witch."

Harry's wince grew more severe, until his eyes were completely shut. Viktor was still talking. "She is going to be visiting me here for the Ball, and I am going to ask her then."

"So, then, you haven't proposed yet?" Harry repeated Viktor's last sentence, the hope evident in his voice, opening his eyes to Viktor's expression.

"Da, Harry, but there is no doubt she will say yes. If you could see what she has said in her letters!"

Viktor had made no effort to actually share the text of the letters, and Harry still thought that perhaps he was reading too much into them. He wasn't too motivated to read them, though. He couldn't risk seeing Hermione's words to someone else in black and white.

He clearly wasn't the only one troubled by Viktor's announcement. Kirsten quietly excused herself - quietly, but she almost ran from the table. Viktor looked pleased at her reaction. Watching his pleasure at someone else's pain made Harry angry. As the anger built, he could feel something again, and this time he recognized it. It was power, magical power, waiting to be tapped. The more he held it in check, stewing over it, the more it banked, like a fire in a blast furnace. He felt that at this moment, he could probably kill Viktor without even noticing the effort or Imperio him to write a note to Hermione breaking it off.

The whole world around Harry seemed somewhat out of focus. He could hear dozens of voices, but was having trouble focusing on any one. He knew that his wand was in his hand, and it wouldn't take any effort to point it at Viktor. Girard would probably give him a raise for giving more effort.

One of the voices around him finally penetrated. It was Sarcos, tugging on his sleeve. He was whispering in Harry's ear. "Professor, I saw Professor Karkaroff in the hall - she was crying. Is something wrong?"

The world snapped back into focus, and he could feel the anger reducing. It was being starved, and within a few moments, he could hardly feel it at all, although he still knew it was there, waiting to return the next time he got angry.

He left the table, walking after Kirsten, and he at least had the satisfaction of seeing Viktor's expression darken when he left.

Harry caught up with Kirsten halfway to her quarters. She wasn't walking that quickly after leaving the dining hall, and seemed to be trying to shield her face from the students as she went. He understood - even a witch couldn't be thought of as being sensitive or emotional at Durmstrang, it just didn't fit.

Without really thinking, Harry put his arm around her shoulders, and she leaned into them. He picked a secret passage off to the right and tapped on the painting that hid it, opening the door, and then he guided Kirsten inside to a dusty old bench.

She seemed amazed. "How did you know this was here?"

"I found it from the other end of the passage - the wall on the other end is too thin, you can hear that it's hollow if you knock on it."

"And why would you do that?"

"Just a hobby, trying to learn as much as I can about this place."

"Really. I've lived here most of my life, and I never knew about it."

"It's just a knack, I suppose. I often end up where I'm not supposed to be."

"Thanks for coming after me, Harry. I don't think we need to bother Viktor anymore, though. There's not much point. I wouldn't want him, even if he did notice me."

"Good. You're too good for him. He notices you, even if he acts like he doesn't care about you at all. He looked ready to kill me for going after you."

"Really? Well, you still needn't bother anymore."

"I didn't come after you to bother Viktor. I came after you because you deserved it."

She breathed in deeply, and looked up at him, searching for something in his face. "And why would I deserve anything?"

"He's hurting you. You don't deserve to have someone hurt you intentionally."

"Why would you care?"

"Someone has to."

She leaned against him, and he held her silently for what seemed like hours, before he helped her up to her room.

~.~.~

Harry started his nighttime trip to the Highly Restricted Section even later than he had intended. Being there for Kirsten had delayed him far longer than he had intended, but he knew it was worth it. How many times had one of his friends given up their own plans for him? He knew that Hermione had probably scored a whole NEWT lower than she would have, if she hadn't had to help get him through his last week before the tests.

Hermione should have been here for this excursion. He could wait until Valentine's, and try to get Hermione to come with him but he was afraid that she'd be too busy with Viktor. No, he was still alone.

The passage seemed darker than he remembered it, and his footsteps echoed. He was nervous about the echo. He felt like he was eleven again, but without Dumbledore, Ron, or Hermione to bail him out of trouble.

Hermione again. He just couldn't get her out of his thoughts. He wondered what she would have thought about his innocent comforting of Kirsten. Would she have been jealous, the way he was of her letters to Viktor?

The door was up ahead, and it looked unchanged. Harry pulled out the new map, which he had christened the Honorary Marauder's Map, and used his wand to tap on it, muttering the phrase that would unlock its secrets. Tapping the door, he saw the password displayed on his map. "Dragon's Blood" he said, quietly, and the door opened.

The room inside was larger than it had any business being. There were two small bookshelves, shorter than Harry, near the door, each filled with books. The shelf to the left held books bound in black and red leather, titled the "Full Histories of Durmstrang," with numbered volumes. The other shelf held an eclectic collection of other books, from Quidditch match descriptions to the complete layout of the gauntlet under the castle.

None of these caught his eyes, however. The room seemed to extend for a hundred feet to the left and right, and the ceiling was over fifty feet tall. This room was all filled with floor to ceiling shelves, but not one of them seemed to have a book. Instead, there were small glass globes, most of them dark and murky, sitting on each shelf.

Most of them were dusty, but there was a section near the door that was fairly clear, as if it had recently been cleaned. There were over a dozen spheres there, and Harry looked at them. He noticed a small brass plaque in front of each sphere. Harry recognized a name, and breathed in, sharply - Van Hoek. He looked at the rest of the spheres, and wasn't surprised to see that each plaque had a name, and that he even recognized some of them. Each plaque also had a date; the Van Hoeks' were both labeled for last Halloween, and most of the dates were also those he recognized as those of Death Eater attacks.

He saw another name he recognized - Ivan Karkaroff. The date was dated about a week before the first of the attacks, and the sphere wasn't as murky as the ones next to it. Instead, it was almost crystal clear. Inside, Harry could see a small figure of Karkaroff, kneeling, as if in prayer.

Harry heard a distant rumbling, and he looked down at the map. Harry saw dozens of circles pouring through the gate, with names that he didn't recognize. There was also a circle moving around the castle wall with a name he recognized instantly -- "N. Malfoy".

Harry wished that he could be sure that this was Narcissa, but he'd taken a shortcut in casting the spell, and hadn't quite gotten it right. He hadn't been concerned about it at that time, figuring that even his father's map had been fooled by Crouch, and that anything short of a picture and life history might be suspect anyway. Now, he wished he'd gotten it right, since there were undoubtedly many members of the Malfoy family out there who might wish him ill, and being able to identify them would have been a good thing.

It didn't really matter, though, whether it was Narcissa or not, as the rest of the horde was already through the gates. He'd have to come back to the room later. He decided not to take anything with him, but Ivan's face drew his attention. There was a pleading there that he couldn't ignore. Swiftly, hoping no one would notice, he switched Ivan's globe for one of the murkier globes from across the aisle, and then he ran for the passage exit, shoving the map and the sphere into his pocket on the way.

He entered the courtyard to see that a full-blown battle was in process. The front gates had been destroyed, and Haakon and his band of advanced Strategy students seemed to be surrounded by a group of determined Death Eaters. Haakon's axe was claiming as many as his wand, as the Death Eaters didn't seem to understand how to counter it as well as they could a curse.

Harry motioned to some of the students who were standing out of the battle, apparently unsure of what to do, and pointed towards one of the weak spots in the attackers' lines. He started throwing curses into the fray.

The occasional flash of green light proved the seriousness of the attack, and Harry's heart sank as he saw students fall in combat. Haakon had ducked a number of curses, but with the students packed around him, anything that didn't hit him would hit one of his students.

Harry felt almost empty inside. The kind of hatred that could do this to innocent students was beyond what he could understand. It washed away thoughts of the Prophecy, thoughts of his friends, and any kind of compassion.

What it left behind was hatred.

The power of the hate and anger started to build up inside of Harry. He felt almost ready to burst from it, felt the power needing to be used.

He decided to use it. His wand flashed towards a mass of the enemy. He cried, "Crucio!" Again and again he cursed the enemy, and it felt good. He was inflicting pain on the people who were attacking, and he was helping turn the tide of battle.

Next to him, students cast weaker curses, which distracted and disarmed their foes. Death Eaters were writhing on the ground, their wands pulled from their grasp.

Then, some of the Death Eaters started to flee, and as the first one made it out through the ruined gate, others followed. Harry started to run after them, and he heard Girard urging him onwards. "Don't let them get away, Harry! Make them pay!"

He felt a hand on his shoulders, though, and turned. It was Kirsten. She had a sad look on her face. "Harry," she whispered, "don't do this. It isn't you."

How would she know? He wondered. How could she know the hatred that he'd bottled up inside, now given a convenient release against those that certainly deserved it. He shook his head, and started to shake off her hand.

"Harry, don't do this. Please."

Kirsten's soft plea wouldn't have done it alone, but he saw the brown owl, which he had thought he had lost, looking at him placidly from atop the wall. It's eyes looked sad, and he felt a sense of disappointment coming from it.

And then, there was Girard, still yelling. "What are you waiting for, Potter! Take them all. Finish them." He had a sudden sense that he could choose to be what Girard wanted him to be, or what Kirsten and the strange owl saw in him.

It was a surprisingly difficult choice. The anger and hatred pulsing through him wanted a release, and he thought he could see Narcissa Malfoy's platinum locks from under the hood of one of the escaping Death Eaters. The Malfoys had done enough to his family that he could hardly stand not chasing her down right now.

But he did. He stood there, his fist clenched around his wand hard enough to hurt, and he met Kirsten's eyes. There was a fear there, a fear that was equally for him, and of him. He felt like flinching from the gaze, but forced himself to stand there meeting it.

After a few minutes, as the Death Eaters vanished, the power slipped away, and Harry finally felt able to look away from Kirsten. He looked up, but the owl had flown away. He was disappointed. He hoped that it had returned, but he supposed he'd probably scared it as well.

Girard was still screaming. A few moments ago, Harry would have been tempted to destroy the Headmaster where he stood for his troubles. The anger had leached out of him, though. He just ignored the Headmaster, and started snapping out orders to students to help confine the Death Eaters and to carry the wounded students up to the Hospital Ward.

Kirsten put her arm on his shoulder, and helped him up to his quarters. Harry was relieved to see that the brown owl was there, although he was a little worried about the pitcher of pumpkin juice that was sitting on the table.

Kirsten still had her arm around him, and she sat with him on the couch.

"Are you whole?" She asked, after a few moments.

"I've been better," Harry responded. Her arm made him feel uncomfortable, and he squirmed under it, but she just held him tighter.

"I was worried about you."

"Why?"

"There seem to be two Professor Harry Potters. One is the man that saved us all from Voldemort, that makes young students gain self-confidence, that stands up to Girard. The other ... the other does horrible things that I don't think he would willingly admit. And besides," she said, with a faint smile that he saw out of the corner of his eye, "no one else is here to care."

The brown owl and Hedwig both stared straight at Harry, and he stood, shaking off her arm. "I'm not sure that's true," he said, almost under his breath. Harry poured a pair of pumpkin juices, and offered one to Kirsten.

"No thank you, Harry. I'm not a fan of pumpkin juice. It is more a thing for Hogwarts, yes?"

He nodded his head. "Can I get you something else, then?"

She was still sitting on his couch, her arm outstretched, offering to hold him. Despite himself, Harry was fairly certain that she was offering more than just the return of the innocent comfort he'd offered the day before. He felt uncomfortable at the thought.

Hedwig had turned away, but the owl was still staring at him. The silence was growing uncomfortable.

"Harry, the Valentine's Ball is this week."

"I know." Harry would have liked to forget it. His distaste showed clearly.

"Viktor will be there with his date." She looked like she'd bitten into something bitter.

"I know. And we'll both be alone."

"We don't have to be, Harry."

"I thought we weren't going to try to tweak Viktor anymore."

"Well, maybe this last time."

"I'm sorry," Harry said, "I don't think I'll be good company on Tuesday."

"It's her, isn't it? The one who..."

"I don't want to talk about it," he shook his head. "I can't, yet. I don't know if there's any chance for us."

"I understand. It's taken me a long time to give up on Viktor." She smiled wistfully. "I had these dreams, that I would catch him, and he would forget anyone else."

"I don't want to catch her." Harry shook his head. "I just want to be with her."

"What's the difference?"

"I'm not sure." He shook his head. "It just doesn't sound right the other way."

"It's just a Ball," she said. Harry felt like a heel for saying no; it wouldn't cost him anything to go. He felt terrible for not giving Ginny even a dance. Was he doing the same to Kirsten, leaving her alone out of selfishness?

He couldn't lead her on, though. "If you don't mind that I'll probably step on your feet, I'd be happy to dance with you. I don't think I can go with you, though."

She seemed a little mollified at this. Just a little, though. She seemed suddenly fixated on his robe, where he realized that the globe had rolled to the bottom of his wand pocket, in the front.

Harry hurriedly reached into his pocket and pulled the globe up, moving it enough that it would be clear that it wasn't anything more personal in nature.

She giggled at his discomfort. He said solemnly, "Now you've done it. I don't think I've ever seen you giggle before."

She stopped, and suddenly became aware of herself. "I probably haven't. There's not usually much to laugh about. Not alone."

Her explanation brought something out that Harry hadn't seen as strongly before. Pain. "Tell me about it," he commanded, softly.

"About what?" She looked like she honestly didn't understand.

"About whatever's been eating you up inside." He was crossing a line, he knew, but he hoped that as long as he stood away from her arms, she wouldn't take it as more than an offer of true friendship.

She seemed to be looking anywhere but at his eyes. She started to make excuses, but Harry ignored them, and repeated his command. "Tell me about it."

Kirsten told him. She had grown up spending most of her time at Durmstrang, with her uncle, Ivan. She had started teaching at Durmstrang the same year that he had gone to the Triwizard Tournament. After Harry's fourth year, he had disappeared, and she'd been left alone. Most of the other teachers had shunned her, and most of the students seemed to think that she should have been teaching Dark Arts. She knew that her uncle had been a Death Eater, but that hadn't stopped her from loving him.

Viktor had been nice to her, at least in private, although he hadn't given her much support. When Hermione wrote him the previous summer, it was clear to Kirsten that she was second choice at best. Viktor still wanted to spend time with her, but only because he didn't have Hermione there in the flesh.

Harry was fidgeting, his hand on the globe inside his pocket. He wasn't sure how she would handle it if he just pulled it out. He didn't even know for sure what it signified.

When she'd begun to wind down, her story concluding with events he already knew about, Harry interrupted. "Do you know anything about where Girard puts the Death Eaters?"

A shadow passed over her face, and Harry could see the beginnings of anger. He'd pulled a Ron, there. He hastened to add, "I know this seems completely irrelevant. Trust me, though. It's not."

"I'm not sure. I remember back in my fifth year, a student tried to free some kind of Dark Magic. My uncle had to sentence him to be imprisoned. He cried after he was done - he said he couldn't believe that a student would have a soul that black."

"They're just imprisoned? They're not ... dead?"

"I don't think so. There was one that I remember being freed, back when I was a girl. His wife had confessed to using Imperio on him."

Harry didn't want to confess his wrongs, but he felt that he couldn't keep this from Kirsten. "I found something earlier. I don't think it belonged... where it was." He drew his hand from his pocket, pulling out the globe that contained Ivan Karkaroff.

She almost shrieked when she saw it, and took it from his hands. "Uncle Ivan?"

"I can't tell you where I found him," Harry continued, "and I'm sure I'll get into loads of trouble if Girard finds out, but it was worth it. Do you suppose we can get him out?"

"We'll find a way," she breathed. "There has to be one. You don't think that Girard knew?"

"I'm sure he did," Harry said, fairly sure of himself in this. Whoever had incarcerated the other Death Eaters had to have seen Ivan's sphere, and Girard would have noticed if there was an extra prisoner there.

He thought about the other books he had seen down there. "If this is something that they only do at Durmstrang, then maybe it's in the Full History."

"I don't remember seeing anything in the History in the Restricted Section," Kirsten said, and Harry wondered if she'd been the one who had set off the alarms.

"Not that one," he shook his head, and told her about the Highly Restricted Section. "There's a huge one there - it's got at least thirty volumes. If I can find out when the first person was imprisoned, maybe I can find it in the volume for that year."

"You sound pretty determined," Kirsten said, still looking at the globe. "I'm not used to researching things like that."

Harry felt a pang, and the next words came out before he could think better of them. "I'm not used to doing it alone, either. This is the sort of thing that Hermione does better than me. I wish she was here."

Kirsten sniffled, and stood up. "I'm sure you do. I'll take this with me -- let me know if you find anything out."

"I will." He probably shouldn't have brought up Hermione to Kirsten, but he couldn't take back the words now. He helped her to the door.

"Good night," she said, and she turned away.

"Thank you." He said, to her back.

When he got back into the room, both of his owls were missing. He sighed. It looked like he was back to being alone.