A Drop of Venom

Something bright and hot awakened Hermione. She fluttered her eyes open and put her hand up to block the light.

"Looks like she's finally awake," said Ron who, with a flick of his wand, sucked a shining orb into his wand. He was grinning.

"What in Merlin's name was that?" asked Hermione.

"I don't really know," said Ron thoughtfully. "Harry's been teaching me some of the spells he learned this summer. I won't complain..."

"He what?" said Hermione loudly. "Where is he?"

She jumped up and saw that the couch where Harry had been sleeping was empty. Dang, dang, dang, dang, thought Hermione.

"What do you mean?" asked Ron. "He's down at breakfast." He cocked an eyebrow and looked oddly at Hermione.

"Come on, then!" shouted Hermione as she bolted for the door. "He's going to leave again!"

"What?" asked Ron stupidly as they sprinted to the Great Hall.

Hermione's face was flushed with anger as she shoved the doors open. She quickly scanned the room and spotted Harry sitting at the far corner of the Gryffindor table, eating peacefully and staring at the enchanted ceiling like there was nothing wrong in the world.

"Harry!" said Hermione as she slid into the seat beside him. "Look, I'm sorry about last night, I--"

Harry put a hand up. He finished chewing his eggs, swallowed, shut his eyes, as if to savor the taste, and said, "You have nothing to apologize about. I shouldn't have acted that way. I got caught up - a bit defensive. It's just - well - I'll explain later."

Hermione was about to demand that he explained now, but she stopped, knowing that it would only spark another fit of rage. Instead she calmed herself and grabbed a piece of toast.

"When are you going to teach me some more charms?" asked Ron, who had just seated himself comfortably in front of a mound of scrambled eggs. "That Dvoretsky's Globe Charm is bloody brilliant."

"Ronald!" snapped Hermione. "Language. And what is this about training?"

She leaned towards Harry, bubbling with interest. He raised both eyebrows and smirked. "Well it's about time you two learned how to dual," he said.

Hermione felt her spine tingle from top to bottom. Her entire body felt the the surge of power emmanate from Harry's body as a grin lit upon his face. It engulfed her body and hovered gently over her skin. Like a rushing wind it blew around her hair and raised tiny goose-bumps on her arm. Then, with a barely audible whoosh, it sucked itself back into Harry's body.

"What was that?" Hermione heard herself ask out loud. She covered her mouth quickly with her hand. "I mean " - Harry was looking at her oddly, and Ron was staring at her with a raised eyebrow - "when do we start?"

"I think you should be more worried about Charms," said Harry with amusement dancing in his eyes.

Hermione glanced at her watch and gasped. "Oh no! We're going to be late!"

And with that, the three rushed to their first class.

Professor Flitwick was bouncing around in the center of the room, demonstrating some advanced spells they would be learning. He nodded to Harry as they entered and took a seat near the back. Harry grinned back and waved.

"Everyone's here?" asked Flitwick excitedly. "We have much to do, much to do. Everyone open your textbook to page 27 on the section about the Alekhine Hexes."

A gasp went through the crowd and the chatter stopped abruptly. Every student in the room was staring, shocked, at the professor - every student except for Harry, who was leaning back against the wall with an uninterested look all over his face.

"I see some of you have heard of these Hexes," said Flitwick with a grin. "And needless to say you've got some idea of what they do, yes?"

"Isn't that Dark Magic, professor?" asked Seamus Finnigan from across the room.

"Dark and Light magic lay on a fine line, Mister Finnigan. I would say these sit in the center somewhere. They are by no means Dark, but they might be used for Dark purposes. In fact, Albus Dumbledore used some in the Department of Mysteries only two years ago, and he was adamantly against the use of any Dark magic. I believe that if Dumbledore deemed it useful to use, then it is certainly useful for you to learn. Now, if everyone is quite done, you may flip to page 27 and pair up with a partner."

A murmer and the sound of pages turning went through the room. Hermione turned to Harry and grabbed his shoulder. She glared at Ron, signaling for him to let her handle it, and he backed away, nodding.

"Come on, Harry," said Hermione as she opened her own book. "Let's practice."

It took a few seconds for Harry to react, as he was staring off into space. He turned his head. "Oh, yes, of course," he said. "Practice. What are we doing again?"

"The Alekhine Hexes," said Hermione smartly.

"Okay," said Harry, looking slightly bored again. "Which one first?"

"What do you mean, which one?" asked Hermione. "How do you know about the Alekhine Hexes?"

"I learned a few over the summer. They were invented by Alexander Alekhine, who was apparently my great-great-great-great-great-grandfather's best friend." He shrugged. "They're kind of useful, I guess."

This confirmed Hermione's hypothesis that Harry had been training immensely during the summer. And, she noted with pride, he had been reading - he had studied his ancestry. She was, however, still quite confused as to how he had learned so much in only three months.

The loud, squeaking voice of Professor Flitwick sounded from the center of the room. "Attention, everyone, attention!" he said excitedly. "We will start from the first hex and learn one new one every two weeks. You will have no written homework until after Christmas, only physical practicing. Now, everyone move across from their partner and begin."

The class hustled quickly into position and started waving their wands in the air, trying to learn the complex wand movement written on the first page. However, Hermione was watching Harry, who suddenly looked pale and sickly. He took a step backward.

"I can't do this," said Harry quietly.

"Why not?" demanded Hermione.

"I-I just can't. You can practice on me, if you'd like."

Hermione scrunched her brow together. She couldn't think of any reason why he would refuse to perform the hex. It merely calmed everyone in the room. She had assumed they would start with this hex, as it was used by most powerful wizards when making an entrance, and was quite easy to learn, but took a great deal of power to perform. The more power put into the spell, the more potent the calming sensation.

She decided not to argue. "Very well," she said with a great deal of annoyance in her voice. "Serenitus Potentia."

Suddenly Hermione felt a wave of magic pour from her body. It was draining quickly, feeding an orb of magic that was growing increasingly fast around her body. Outward it went, spinning and twisting and roaring with energy like a great angry lion. She collapsed onto her knees and felt the magic sing with happiness and run one last joyful lap around the room before it sucked back into her body.

A voice called out through Hermione's throbbing headache. "Excellent, Miss Granger, ten points to Gryffindor!"

Hermione's head was reeling. The world was spinning in circles, round and round. Something gurgled in her throat and she fell forward onto her hands. Her body screamed in pain; her magic went on a rampage to release itself, to roam freely again, but she held it inside and staggered to her feet.

A warm hand touched her shoulder and Hermione looked up to see Harry looking down at her with a grim expression. She stared into his eyes and she knew that he had done the same when he first tried the spell. That was why he didn't want to do it again, reasoned Hermione. It was too painful.

Hermione looked around at the stunned faces of everyone in the room. Padma and Parvati were staring wide-eyed and had apparently dropped their wands. They were no better than Dean and Seamus, who had fallen into eachother and were laying in a daze on the floor.

"Bloody hell," said Ron, snapping everyone out of their trance. "That was bloody brilliant!"

"Language," clucked Hermione, who was feeling slightly better and much less dizzy.

After a short congratulations, Professor Flitwick dismissed the class and Hermione led the way down the hall ahead of an ecstatic Ron and a gloomy Harry. They stopped just outside of the Potions dungeon.

Hermione watched Harry's facial expression change from blank to blank, and again, from blank to blank again. He turned to face her.

"Does it still hurt?" he asked quietly.

"No, not much," responded Hermione in a whisper. "Have you tried it twice?"

Harry's eyes slanted and he paused, as if thinking, and said, after much apparent deliberation, "How very Slytherin of you." He pushed his way through the large wooden doors into the Potions dungeon.

The three took seats near the back of the classroom, much to Hermione's annoyance. She had tried for six years to get them to move to the front, but they had insisted on sitting in the back to talk. It was a wonder that they learned anything in class. Well, thought Hermione smugly, they do have me.

Hermione looked up as the Professor's door pushed open, half expecting to see Snape and his billowing robes emerge from the crooked frame, and watched Professor Slughorn whisk into the room in an aristocrating manner.

"Hello, hello everyone," he said merrily, pausing for just a moment before he pulled a small vial from his pocket. "I'm sure you are expecting grueling and difficult work this year, and you're cringing and shaking in anticipation of your first assignment." He stopped and gazed slowly around the room. "Well, you are correct if you thought that. And if you didn't think that, then you are either stupid or dim.

"No written assignments will be given today - you can put your quill away Miss Granger." Hermione felt her cheeks turn pink as she shoved her quill back into her bag. "Today will be a demonstration. And, as I am sure you have all heard by now, it appears Mister Potter followed slightly different instructions last year than the rest of the class and, as my quaint and refined little ears have heard in the hallways, doesn't deserve the rewards he received." He walked over in front of Harry's cauldron. "Today he will be demonstrating for us."

Harry didn't need another telling; he stood up and walked to the front of the classroom in silence. This was the first time Hermione had ever seen Professor Slughorn lose his cool.

"Now, the ingredients are in the store cupboard, Mister Potter. You have an hour to make the Elixer of Eternal Fire. Begin," said Professor Slughorn, sitting smugly in a chair near the back wall.

Harry moved like a machine. In one smooth motion he walked to the cupboard, pulled open the doors, and grabbed every ingredient he needed, which, as Hermione knew ever-so-well, was no easy task, seeing as the Potion consisted of twelve types of weed, the tip of a Unicorn's horn, the black edge of the Dragon Moth's wing, and a various assortment of alligator teeth. Harry dumped them on the table and began to dissect the wing.

For an hour the class sat in silence, watching as Harry robotically added ingredients and stirred, cut and stirred, sniffed and stirred, all the while keeping one eye trained on Slughorn. Harry gave the Potion one last turn, and, just as Slughorn leapt from his seat with a look of triump plastered on his face, dropped the last alligator tooth into the Potion.

"Time up!" shouted Slughorn. "Let's test your work." He grabbed an empty vial from his desk and dipped it into the Potion, coming up with a pure purple substance and analyzing it in the lamp-light. He suddenly appeared very disappointed.

"I will analyze this Potion tonight, Mister Potter. Class is dismissed." At lunch, after their Transfiguration class, Ron nearly exploded with the very question Hermione had been dying to ask.

"What the bloody hell was that in Potions? When did you become a Potions master?" shouted Ron above the excited din of first-day-of-school students.

A grin played at the corner of Harry's lips and he sipped his soup like nothing had happened. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said dryly.

"Don't give me that dung; you know exactly what I'm talking about. How did you know all of those ingredients, and how did you manage to make the Elixer of Flaming Infinite, or whatever it was, perfectly? - and I know it was perfect."

"It's The Elixer of Eternal Fire, Ron, and we learned about it in our fifth year, don't you remember?" said Harry like a parent scolding a small child.

"Yes, I remember," said Hermione. "Professor Snape mentioned it in his opening speech when he was scaring us into dropping the class. How did you do that?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," said Harry again as he finished sipping the last of his soup. "Why are you two acting so oddly?"

Ron, who had been close to exploding earlier, blew his top. "What are you talking about? You leave for three months and come sauntering back in these flashy, black robes, save Hermione's life, turn yourself invisible without a wand, stare down a professor without flinching, make a perfect, flawless, complex Potion without looking at a book, and you ask us why we're acting oddly?"

The calm look that had been on Harry's face since he had arrived, not counting his one abaration in the common room, didn't waver. Instead, Harry pushed his bowl away and stood. "You know why I left and you know that I trained. What else is there for me to tell you?"

"How about what you studied, how you studied? We want to know that, too!"

"And you will," said Harry, "tonight. And until then, you'll just have to wait."

Hermione sighed. If Harry wanted to wait six more hours, then by all means, she would let him wait six more hours - it was all the same to her. What was six hours compared to three months? Nothing, came Hermione's answer. Nothing at all. She leaned forward and poured herself a bowl of soup.

The day flew by quickly. Their last class, Herbology, was only an hour long, and Hermione, Ron and Harry had spent the rest of the afternoon at the lake, talking about their summer - well, as much as Harry would let out. At six o' clock, they headed up to the castle and Hermione folded her arms as Harry began to get ready for bed.

"Ahem," she said loudly.

Harry looked up. "Don't worry," he said. "I haven't forgotten. I'm just searching for my map." He pulled the Marauders Map out of his trunk and walked through the portrait hole.

Hermione and Ron followed close behind, following him to the Room of Requirements, where Harry paced back and forth, mumbling something under his breath. A door appeared in the wall and the three walked through it.

The room was large and round. In the center of the hardwood floor was an enormous, red rug. There was paint where there should have been windows. The walls appeared to be padded - at least a foot thick, surmised Hermione.

Harry walked to the center of the room and, pulling his wand out, conjured two plushy armchairs.

"Where did you learn that?" asked Hermione as she walked to one of the chairs and pushed on the seat with her hand.

"From a Transfiguration book," said Harry blandly. "You can sit on it. It's not going to attack you."

Ron had already sat down and was waving his wand in small circles. "Like this?" he asked. "What's the incantation?"

"No, it's more of a flick, and the incantation is Creo Lushier," said Harry. He conjured another chair.

"Brilliant," sputtered Ron. "Creo Lushier." Nothing happened. "It didn't work," said Ron sadly.

"Of course it didn't," said Hermione. "Conjuration is very advanced magic. That Harry can even do it is - well - stunning. Most grown wizards can only manage to conjure a needle, or a button.

"Anyways, Harry, now that we're here, you promised you'd tell us all about your summer. What happened, then? How did you train? Where did you go?"

"I never said I'd tell you everything," Harry protested. "But I destroyed one of" - Harry paused and raised his wand into the air. A blue light burst from the end and struck the ceiling. A web of electric-blue lines weaved through unseen channels in the walls and, once it met on the floor, disappeared in a flash. "I destroyed one of the Horcruxes - Hufflepuff's goblet. It was buried in channels deep beneath Azkaban."

Hermione gasped. "And how did you manage to find that out? How did you get to it?"

A grimace crossed Harry's face. "I followed a Dementor," he said quietly.

"What?!" shouted Hermione, leaping from her seat. "Are you mad?"

Ron was quite pale. "Bloody hell - literally. Why in Merlin's name did you do that?"

"Because," said Harry slowly. "I was following Snape."

"What?!" shouted Hermione again. "You are mad! And what was Snape doing there?"

"Freeing his fellow Death-Eaters," spat Harry. "Though I don't think Dolohov will be of much use for the Dark-Lord; I banished his ribcage."

Hermione felt like throwing up. "You what?" she gasped. "Why?"

"Because I could," said Harry. "No Death-Eater deserves to live."

"You're no better than them!" hissed Hermione. "I can't believe you would do such a thing."

The calmness on Harry's face vanished and his eyebrows curved angrily. "And what would you have done if Dolohov had stuck your shoulders to a wall with silver daggers? Cast a tickling charm?"

"S-Silver?" muttered Hermione. She saw a brief image of Harry stuck to a wall with Dolohov taunting him. She gagged. "T-The scars, then?"

"Right here," said Harry, pulling back the right sleeve on his shirt. A thick red line ran down the thick of his shoulder. He spread the sleeve back.

"O-Oh dear," said Hermione shakily. "That's horrible. W-Where did you go this summer?" She desperately tried to change the subject, and Harry obliged.

"Everywhere," said Harry. "To Australia, North America, South America, Asia - everywhere."

"And what will you do now? Do you plan to stay at school?" asked Hermione fervently; the gruesome picture was still at the front of her mind.

Harry looked at her long and hard. "No," he said. "I plan to leave."

Something like a firework exploded in Hermione's stomach. Beside her, Ron jumped up in protest.

"And you're taking us with you this time!" shouted Ron.

A grim look fell about Harry's eyes, but his face did not show it. His hand, Hermione noted, dropped down next to his wand. "You can't... I've become much more powerful this summer, more than anyone could have imagined, but it's not enough to defeat Voldemort. I need to go back to America and continue my studies. There is a school there, a magical college that teaches the seperate branches of magic extensively. I plan to attend, if I can pass the entrance exam, and obtain a mastery of mind and body magic throughout the next year."

The room went silent. Harry was staring at Ron and Hermione; she thought he had gone mad. Hogwarts was the best school in the world; why would he go somewhere else? She planted her hands on her hips and tilted her head, as she always did when she was annoyed.

"And what makes that school better than Hogwarts?"

"They don't believe in Light and Dark magic, for one," said Harry with a bit of malice in his voice. "They aren't biased against Werewolves or Elves or Vampires or people with funny looking scars. Their teachers follow a curriculum, they don't just teach random nonsense like all but two of our previous Defense Against the Dark Arts professors. They--"

"But Hogwarts is the highest ranked school in the country! There is so much more you can learn here," protested Hermione.

"Look," said Harry angrily. "I'm not going to argue with you about what school is best or what I'm going to do. I'll teach you some of what I've learned and I'll show you some of my new magic. But I'm not going to stay here and learn some toddler Alekhine Hexes while I could be learning something useful."

"What do you mean, toddler Alekhine Hexes?" shouted Hermione. "They're ranked ten in the most powerful hexes by the Ministry of Magic."

"By the Ministry of Magic," hissed Harry. "Don't you get it? Everything you've read, everything you've heard, everything you've seen pertains to Britain. Haven't you ever asked about other wizarding settlements? Everyone says that there are only a few left, scattered all over Britan. Do you honestly think there are no other wizarding villages in the world? Hermione, we've lived in a box. There's so much more out there to learn, to see, and we've been twiddling our fingers on this God-forsaken island, hoping that some day we'll miraculously find some hidden power to defeat Voldemort. Well I'm not hoping any more. I'm studying, learning, taking action, and I'm going to kill him, and then I'm going to move away - far away - from this place, and I'll never look back."

Hermione and Ron were frozen in their places, stunned. Everything Harry had said was so wrong, yet so true. Why hadn't anyone ever mentioned wizards outside of Britain? Were they non-existant? But they had to exist, thought Hermione, or else Harry wouldn't be talking about them; he hadn't gone that mad - yet. The revelation was astonishing.

No words came to Hermione's mouth. Instead, she stood, much like Ron, but without her mouth hanging open.

"Harry that's -" started Hermione.

"Bloody insane!" shouted Ron. "Hogwarts is the best school in the world, not just in Britain. It's better than Durmstrang and Beauxbattons and any other Wizarding school. I won't let you stand there and defile my country - it's lunacy, I tell you."

But there was something wrong, Hermione thought, something dreadfully wrong. She could see where Ron was coming from; he had been born in Britain, raised in Britain, taught in Britain - so had she. On the other hand, she also saw where Harry was coming from, and it seemed much more logical. Obviously he had been training and searching around the world. He had met other Wizards and Witches during his travels, and had realized that there was more to the world than a little island in Europe. It made Hermione feel like a small speck of dust.

"No Ron," whispered Hermione. "He does have a point."

"What do you mean he has a point?" roared Ron, rounding on Hermione. "He's bloody mad I tell you. All this traveling has messed up his head."

Behind Ron, Hermione could see Harry staring blankly at the floor. He, too, appeared to be struggling with that same idea, surmised Hermione from the look on his face. But he wasn't mad, thought Hermione. He was far from it.

"Ron, think about it for just a minute. There has to be more Wiza-"

"You too?" shouted Ron angrily. "He's poisoned your mind. He's learned Legilimency, that's it. Take it off of her or I swear I'll kill you!" He rounded on Harry with his wand drawn.

"He hasn't done anything to me!" screamed Hermione. "You're acting like an infant!"

"You don't know what you're saying," said Ron, his eyes unmoving from Harry's blank face. "He's got you under some spell."

"No he hasn't," said Hermione. "Put your wand down, Ron."

"Not until he takes the-"

And Hermione saw something pass under Harry's eyes. His head snapped upwards and in a blur his wand was drawn and shoved into Ron's neck.

Harry's body was tensed, charged for action. His feet were planted. His arm was straight, level with his outstretched wand. His bicep was taught. His jaw was set. His teeth were clenched. His eyes were blue.

His eyes were blue.

They were humming and dancing like shining orbs of electricity. They were fixed, focused and determined. There was no fire behind them, no twinkling about them. They were simply cold and blazing and very, very blue.

A clap of thunder exploded from the center of the room. Hermione watched in horror as Ron was hurled backwards into the wall and his limbs were splayed like a crushed spider. He slumped to the floor and fell on his face with a dull thud.

"No!" screamed Hermione, sprinting to Ron's side. She grabbed his wrist and felt his pulse; it was beating, however gently, but it was beating.

"He's not dead," Harry said coldly as he swept past Hermione to the door. "He has a broken spine and a cut on his neck, but he'll live."

His eyes connected with Hermione's once more before he exited the room and she was relieved to see that they were green again. But his last words sent a chill through her body.

"I planned it that way."

The door slammed shut behind him.