Our Fathers

"The evil face was now smiling.

‘How touching...’ it hissed. ‘I always value bravery... Yes, boy, your parents were brave... I killed your father first, and he put up a courageous fight... but your mother needn’t have died... she was trying to protect you...’"

-Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone, pg 213 (2^nd ed., paperback)

Chapter Twenty-One — Look What Love Gave Us

Hermione stared down at Harry, his words sticking in the front of her mind. He’s coming — now. "Oh God," Professor Lupin murmured. "Where, Harry? Where’s he attacking?"

Harry scrambled to his feet, staring around in horror. "I... here, but I don’t know... he had a map. Something about Slytherin. He’s coming at sundown. We’ve only a few hours... we can’t watch everywhere!"

Professor Lupin grabbed Harry’s shoulder as he took to his feet as well, and Hermione followed to listen. "We’re getting you out of here. You’re going into hiding with the others. No arguments — not from you, and not from Albus."

"No, I can’t go. He’s not after me, not this time. He’s after Malfoy. We’ve got to finish this now." Harry pulled away and turned to Hermione. "Whatever you’ve learned, it’s time to get it in the open."

"I- Harry, I just have a theory — I don’t think it’s right, I haven’t found a map —"

"There’s no time." Harry grabbed her arm and dragged Hermione toward the door. "We’re going to Dumbledore. Now what’s the theory?"

Hermione gulped. She hated being wrong, and giving wrong information right now could cost lives. "It’s from the poems — Slytherin sneaking into Ravenclaw’s chambers... I don’t think it’s true... but their towers were next to each other. There could’ve been a staircase hidden between the walls, or along the back — but Harry, the tower was destroyed centuries ago! I’m sure the builders would’ve noticed a secret passage laying the castle open to the outside —"

"Not if it was hidden by magic!" Lupin was behind them, hurrying them down the hall. "Yes, I think I understand what you’re getting at, Harry. Did you See something to that affect?"

"Just that it had been hidden — Voldemort said it. Maybe only Slytherin’s heir can access it, or something... I don’t know, it doesn’t matter. But Hermione, where did the passage end? Where might the entrance be? We need more information!"

Hermione snatched her arm away, attempting to keep from being dragged right down the stairs. "Harry, slow down! I’m sorry, I don’t know where it starts... it has to end in Rowena Ravenclaw’s rooms. Her private rooms... they’re now in the Ravenclaw dormitories, but I don’t know which ones they are!" And then realization hit. "Oh no... if he attacks this evening, all the Death Eaters will enter the school where students are studying..."

"Exactly," Harry murmured. Hermione paused for a moment, watching thoughts flicker across his face before she turned and took the stairs at a bound. He was right — there wasn’t a moment to waste. They might not be able to stop the Dark Lord from entering the castle, but evacuating the Ravenclaw students would ensure that no one was killed.

"Hold up!" A voice called from behind. It was Ron, accomanied by his brothers and Ginny. "What do you need us to do, mate? Find McGonagall? Owl Percy?"

"We could owl dad -" Fred began.

George nodded. "- and Dad can do far more than Percy. He’s been at the Ministry for ages -"

"No," cut in Ron, sharply. "Leave dad out of it. His hands are tied."

"Tied by what?" Ginny asked, but Harry was already speaking. "Find McGonagall. And Snape, if you can. We’re going to find Dumbledore. There’s no time to waste — check everywhere. And hurry!"

Ron, George, Fred, and Ginny were off as soon as he’d finished, breaking off to try different places. "Why Snape?" Hermione asked.

"Malfoy. Snape should know where he is, and we haven’t the time to get the map. Uncle Re, do you think Dumbledore’s still in his office?"

Lupin nodded. "He intended to file the paperwork before finding Professor Snape, I believe. We should be able to catch him up."

The mad dash down to Dumbledore’s office put Hermione in mind of another such dash, five years earlier, down the very same halls to warn of an attack on the Philosopher’s Stone. Hopefully this time, the man in question would still be in the building, rather than called to London. She ran through what she’d learned in her mind — the poetry, the diary, all the ancient sources in the library — but nothing provided a firm answer. Where had Rowena Ravenclaw’s rooms been? Somewhere in the tower, yes, but what would be the logical place?

"Professor Dumbledore!" Harry called as he took the steps two at a time. Professor Lupin was hanging back, but Hermione tried to keep up. "Professor, I’ve had a vision, it’s urgent!"

Hermione slammed into Harry’s back as he stopped abruptly. She saw why immediately — Snape was there, and glowering dangerously. "What do you want?" he snapped, standing from his chair.

Dumbledore took that moment to come in from the adjoining room. "Ahh, Harry... please, Severus, sit back down." Oddly enough, Snape obeyed. "Now, then, Harry, what seems to be the problem?"

"Voldemort is coming. Tonight, at sundown — he and the Death Eaters have already Apparated into position." Harry crossed the room and leaned his hands on the table, cutting off Snape. He looked oddly grown up... beyond his years. Hermione hung back, watching him.

"Where?" Dumbledore asked simply. He lowered himself into his chair and started digging in a drawer. "The tunnels on your father’s map — yes, I know about that, stop glaring, Severus — are monitored now. Besides storming the front door, there’s not a way to approach without being known."

Harry turned and held his hand out, gesturing for Hermione to do so. She did, of course, but slowly and hesitantly. "I don’t know for certain... Professor, the books that Lucius Malfoy stole for You Know Who contained a book of love poetry about the Founders, mainly an affair between Slytherin and Ravenclaw," she rattled off. Facts were good — facts were easy. "I don’t know why I didn’t see it earlier... but Slytherin supposedly sneaked into her rooms using a secret passage. When the Slytherin tower was destroyed, I suppose the passage was never discovered because of some sort of magical concealment, leaving it open to the outside. The greenhouses don’t come flush with the stone... I suppose it’s behind there, though I can’t be certain..."

"And it would allow entrance to the Ravenclaw dormitories," Dumbledore nodded. "Yes... however, I also do not know where her rooms were. I assume the girls’ dormitory, on the highest level. The room there is rather large... yes, she would wish to be close to the sky..."

"Do you have a map, Professor?" Harry asked. "If we could see the layout of the rooms, we could decide upon a course of action. They think they have the element of surprise... they might... Professor Dumbledore, I think Voldemort can see me."

Snape’s hands curled into fists on the arms of his chair and Lupin took a few steps closer to Harry. "What do you mean?" Snape demanded. "It’s impossible. Unless we’ve been wrong all along... no, it’s impossible. He just looked in your direction."

"I’m not imagining it. He looked directly at me, then Apparated... we can’t be sure what we’re dealing with now, Professor Snape. It’s possible he’s been Seeing me as well, at different times... All he’ll know is how sick I’ve been, if that’s the case. Or a refresher course in various classes... it’s not as if I’m privy to classified information." He shook his head. "I shouldn’t ever be. Not when this is a possibility... thank goodness it happened now, and not years from now, when I might actually be a part of the planning."

"We have to break the connection," Snape murmured.

"We can," Hermione countered. "I think... oh, we should’ve known all along! Professor, one of the books stolen, the Egyptian one, contained a spell to block the connection... it also contained a large number of mind control spells. Such a spell could be strengthened by a connection like the one they have. What if Voldemort intends to do one of those? Ohhh... Professor Lupin, you remember the spell I told you about, right?"

Lupin nodded. "Harry and Lord Voldemort have to be in the same room. Well... it won’t be as difficult as we’d thought to arrange that, though I’d be wrong not to admit my hesitation at the whole thing. We don’t even know for certain the spell will work."

"It has to," Snape growled. "He could be listening in on us even as we speak!"

"He’s coming for Malfoy," Harry put in. "Professor Snape, do you know where he is? Maybe he should be removed from the school... how does the blood spell work, Hermione?"

Hermione glanced at Dumbledore, who was frowning and examining Harry thoughtfully, before answering. "Well, according to the translated text... You Know Who will probably bring along one of his Veela followers to chant the spell. All You Know Who has to do is cut Malfoy. Every drop of blood spilt will take away days... if he kills Malfoy, he’ll end up fifteen years old. No one will be able to tell he’s anyone but a fifteen year old... I don’t know if his memories will remain, however. I couldn’t find any examples of the spell being used. It’s Dark Magic after all."

"Sneaking him away won’t help," Snape noted. "Voldemort will find him, in the end. If he fails this time, or only scratches him, can he try again?"

"No," Hermione shook her head. "The moment the knife breaks the skin, the spell’s activated. When the cut is sealed, the spell is completed. He’d have to find another pair of mother and child with Veela blood to use it again — it’s good only in that situation. Once the spell’s done, Draco is safe."

Dumbledore passed a map to Hermione, finally breaking in to the conversation. "It’s as current as is possible. I’ll give you a pass to the restricted section — there is a particularly classified book there, containing complete maps after each renovation. I trust you’ll find what we need — the passageway will not be there, but the walls may be thicker in one area... you know what to look for, Miss Granger. Severus, please go find Mr. Malfoy. We must decide how to handle this... Remus, I’d like you to help me evacuate the Ravenclaw dormitories. We have only an hour or so. Harry... Harry, it’s too dangerous to us all for you to be involved in planning. Your father will come to get you before the battle — this connection will be broken, I promise you. We will find a way."

Harry didn’t appear to be amused — his confidence was crumbled and he slumped down into a chair. "Isn’t there anything I can do?"

"You can come with me," Hermione heard herself asking abruptly. "Well... you can’t look at the book obviously, but I’d like it if you were there." She blushed furiously as Lupin regarded her, eyebrow raised and expression knowing. "I mean, I can bounce ideas off you, and you don’t have anything else to do -"

"A marvelous idea, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said, eyes bright with some sort of mischief. "Now, if I’m not mistaken, the Weasleys will all wish to be involved as well... if you could send the elder two up here? Ronald and Miss Weasley will be able to help by keeping the younger Gryffindors calm."

Snape was up and out the door with a swift nod of affirmation. Harry set a hand on Hermione’s shoulder and steered her from the room. "Thanks for trying to make me useful," he murmured as they descended the stairs. "I know there’s very little I can do. If Voldemort’s been listening in the whole time..."

"It’ll be okay, Harry. We’re not going to let him win." Hermione patted his hand, flashing the warmest smile she could muster at him. His, in response, was strained with apprehension.

The Ravenclaws took the evacuation with their normal poise — several of the youngest grew hysterical and had to be comforted, but the prefects knew their duty and followed it to the letter. Remus ignored the fear-filled glances of several of those who had been his students in his year at the school. Despite being so bright, Ravenclaws as a lot seemed to be surprisingly prejudiced. They included a few Muggleborns among their ranks, but the internal politics of the House seemed more along the lines of Slytherin than Gryffindor — while tolerated, the Muggleborns were a group all of their own. It was disturbing to watch: the older Muggleborns ushered the younger out the portrait hole and they all clustered together along one of the walls while the other students stood a little apart. Remus wanted to yell and force them to talk to each other — it was behavior like theirs that led to the Death Eaters and their ilk having such power in society.

They all stood around in the hallway, awaiting further instruction from Professor Dumbledore or their Head of House, Filius Flitwick. "Why are we in the hall?" one girl asked — young; Remus hadn’t taught her.

Remus glanced over and caught Flitwick’s gaze, and the petite man shook his head emphatically. "We’ve... er, there are some rumors that there’s a... security breach inside the dormitory," he mumbled, embarrassed at such a lie. He thought the seventh years, at the very least, should know what they faced.

"Who are you?" she asked. "You’re not a professor. Not even for one of the electives."

"He’s a werewolf," one of the other students hissed, too softly for him to hear, had he been human — Nora Astor, he remembered. She’d be a sixth year — bright, of course, and from an imbeccable bloodline.

"Yes, I am," Remus answered, "and I’m most unhappy that you’ve forgotten your lessons, Miss Astor. Werewolves, as you learned in your fourth year, have a heightened sense of hearing despite the state of the moon."

Nora blushed furiously and slunk back against the wall — to insult the knowledge of a Ravenclaw was near blasphemy to most Hogwarts students. "I’m very glad to see you, Professor Lupin," one of the students from the Muggleborn group (George Fenton? A seventh year, now) asked, approaching from across the hall. "I was just wondering — in the light of the whole Act of Council, will you be returning to Hogwarts?"

"No... I’ve a job in Muggle London I very much enjoy," Remus admitted with a smile. He kept one eye on Dumbledore and Flitwick, but the students around him (even Nora and the youngest children) were calming down under his unruffled demeanor. "I’m a chemistry professor at a state school there. Plus, I very much doubt your current professor would wish to give up her job."

"Oh, but you were much more knowledgable about the field, sir," Fenton went on. "I was very much hoping to ask you a few more things about the Dementors — I saw Potter’s Patronus at one of the Quidditch matches that year, but Professor Wolfe believes that none of us are advanced enough to learn it... I protested, and she threatened a detention for disruption of class!"

It sounded very much like Fenton — he’d been the very top of his class which, considering he was a Ravenclaw, was certainly saying something. "I’ll be spending quite a bit of time around here until year’s end," Remus said, trying not to grin too broadly. "I may be able to work out a bit of tutoring on a weekend? You’ll have to speak to Headmaster Dumbledore about it, since I’m no longer on the payroll..."

"Ah, Remus," Dumbledore himself called, sweeping down the corridor. "I need to send you up to do a search of the chamber... oh, hello, Mr. Fenton. How’s your mum?" Dumbledore smiled at the young man and turned to Remus. "Did you know that Mr. Fenton’s mother is actually a witch? Or she would’ve been, had she been trained — she grew up in the southern bit of the States, where the system of magical education hadn’t been perfected..."

Remus cleared his throat. Dumbledore was truly horrible about staying on task, even when the situation was dire. "Which chamber, Professor?"

"Oh- why, the one we think was Rowena’s. On the top floor? Yes, I must let you in... I’ll be back in just a moment, Mr. Fenton." Dumbledore took Remus’ shoulder and led him over to the majestic portrait of a regal woman in gold and blue guarding the door. He leaned over and whispered something, leaning back again to let the portrait swing open. "Yes, here we go... the stairs to the girls’ dormitories are right over there, by the tapestry of the unicorn... I’ve sent Minerva to search the boys’ dorms. I’ll be just outside — remember, send the stragglers out as quickly as you can, we’ve little time!"

Remus dashed over to the stairs and took them two at a time, stopping only to check for any students remaining in each dorm. There were none. The top of the tower was a largish room, currently the dormitory for the fifth years. Nothing seemed amiss — the room was square rather than round, as most dorms at Hogwarts were, and the windows were a bit bigger than normal. If the onetime Headmistress had indeed kept ravens, they would’ve been quite happy with such access to the air, though spells had since been put in place to protect students from the elements. The stone walls were decorated in faded murals, mostly of forest creatures, though a badger, raven, snake, and lion were prominent among the lot. He cast a few listening spells strong enough to last the night — the moment a Death Eater entered, the teachers would be able to ambush from the Common Room below and halt the attack before it had begun.

And Harry would be there. Remus tried to put the thought from his mind as he listened along the walls, seeking for any noise that might suggest the entrance Voldemort’s men would take. It wouldn’t fade away, especially as it became clear that his search was futile. Harry would be exposed to the danger of Voldemort head on, and Remus could do very little to protect him.

Not that he needed protection, of course — Harry had faced the Dark Lord twice face to face, according to his own, humble tales, and had fared more than marvelously, according to his friends. He’d faced an echo of Voldemort’s younger self — a young man who might be resurrected, were he to touch young Draco Malfoy. Harry had overcome the Dementors and saved Sirius when all hope seemed lost. James’ son — HIS son, now — was a remarkable young man, not to be underestimated... but the feeling that this confrontation might be Harry’s last kept Remus from being calm over the coming fight. He didn’t know what deity would have the cruelty necessary to take Harry away just as Remus’ dreams of fourteen long years had been answered... but then again, some deity had allowed a raging werewolf to take a young Remus by surprise.

The next few hours could bring any number of outcomes — all Remus could do was hold on for the ride. He turned, grimacing, and took to the stairs. The trap had been laid. All to be done now was wait.

The shelves and tables of the restricted section were as dreary and frightning as they were during the middle of the night, Harry discovered as he and Hermione were let into the back by Madame Pince. The librarian scowled severely at the both of them, as though of the belief their pass — from Dumbledore, no less — was forged. Hermione seemed to take no notice. No doubt she’d had enough experience with the woman to know just what her moods were, but for Harry, the suspicion was both annoying and insulting. She didn’t know him, and had no way of knowing he’d snuck into the restricted section years earlier in the dark of the night... there was no call for her to treat him as a criminal.

"Harry, just sit over here," Hermione said, breaking into his angry thoughts as she gestured to a chair. "Hmm... here’s a book for you to read! Visions of the Future: the Seer’s Guide. I wonder why it’s in the Restricted Section... well, go ahead!"

It took a great deal of reserve for Harry to keep from rolling his eyes at Hermione’s eagerness — it was simply a book, and Harry couldn’t care less about the whole Seer bit — but took it anyways and tossed it on the table. "Well, where’s yours?" he asked, with no intention of opening the tome.

Hermione seemed to know his mind — she’d been doing that quite often lately, he mused — and shot a scowl in his direction before returning to the shelves and lugging an incredibly thick, very tall text to crash onto the table across from him. "Here, now, you can’t look on... what if he’s looking through your brain...?"

Harry sniffed and yanked the divination book from the table. "Fine, then. I’ll read the bloody thing, if it’ll make you happy."

She nodded decisively and, with a quick glance to make sure Harry wasn’t trying to read upside down, slammed the cover open and began paging through at a near-frantic pace.

He kept glaring at the top of her head and put his feet up on the table. She didn’t yell at him, for once — it was certainly proof he wasn’t looking at the map book, as he was now slumped so far down in his chair that he could barely see over the top of his knees. With a sigh, he settled the book on his lap and opened the cover. If he was forced to be burndened with the Sight, he might as well know all the gorey details...

The book contained a front page of swirling yellow, green, blue, and red and, beneath the moving painting, was a simple command. "Look, and See." Frowning a bit in confusion, Harry did.

And then he was falling, as with the pensieve and Riddle’s diary, falling into the swirling colours and down to the middle —

"Avery! Are you ready for your task?" he asked. Or his mouth asked. And his eyes saw a man robed in black crouched in a bow on the ground before him.

"Yes, Lord. Always. The scroll is kept close to my heart," the hooded man promised, patting his chest. He reached out and lifted the hem of Harry’s robes to his lips. "It is my honour to serve, as always."

Not Harry’s robes. His own tongue disobeyed his mind — his mind screaming for help. "To serve, of course. Failure is not an option — you are lucky your own mother passed on, Avery, or you might be the sacrifice. Would you run, as Malfoy’s brat?"

The shock was passing. It was the book — the book was restricted because of its affect on the mind. Hopefully Hermione would notice his mesmerization before it was too late... but as he was holed in the mind of the enemy, why not pinpoint a location — he’d done it before. "I am not so youthful as Draco Malfoy," Avery was saying. "My Lord would no doubt wish for a younger donor than I."

"Perhaps," Voldemort said. His eyes were focused on Avery — in his peripheral vision, Harry could make out trees; the gray stone of the school. And a cane, Voldemort was using a staff to keep himself upright in his advanced age. Harry’s blood was mingled with that of Narcissa Malfoy in the man’s veins, due to the first blood sacrifice — what affect would that have on closing the connection? Would Narcissa’s blood foul up the whole thing?

Voldemort turned — but toward the school, not away. The gray blocks filled his vision. He raised his wand and murmured "Revelo" and the wall seemed to melt away into a darkened, dreary staircase spiraling up into the wall. But the spell was elementary! Couldn’t anyone have discovered the entrance at any time?

The return to reality was much more jarring than in any of his other visions. The book wasn’t there when he opened his eyes — Hermione must’ve torn it away — but was replaced immediately by a splitting headache. "Harry? Oh! I’m so sorry, I should’ve known better than to let you read a book from the Restricted -"

"Hermione, bloody hell, how old am I?" Harry snapped. She was going too far — after all, at least one of his Restricted Section trips in the past had been at her request! However, his anger made her expression of worry sink to one of hurt. "Oh, come off it... don’t make that face..." he gave a sigh and rubbed his temples. "It’s my own fault for reading the damned thing in the first place. And aren’t we wasting time? You’re supposed to be finding answers. How long was I in the Vision?"

"It really was a vision?" she asked. "Oh... I thought it was just... I think it wasn’t more than ten or fifteen minutes. You were mouthing words when I looked up."

"He’s on his way inside. I saw him doing it..." When Hermione looked ready to collapse in fear, Harry shook his head. "No time, remember? We need to know now where he’s going to come in. I have to be there in time..."

She nodded. "Harry, I know, but... the architect was German... all the earliest blueprints are in German shorthand! I can’t understand them!"

"Then go later. Something should be helpful before the fire, right? And the architect must’ve been dead by that time..." Harry started to sit up, but remembered himself in time — Voldermort truly could be looking in on their every move. "I should go find Professor Dumbledore... tell him time’s short..."

"He knows," Hermione said. "He can see the sun setting the same as the rest of us." She looked back down at the pages, flipping ahead.

Harry shook his head. "I think he might attack early. It’s still at least a half hour til sundown — what if he Saw us all talking? Saw the plan, and is attacking now instead of later? I’ve got to be there to end this! I don’t want to See his murders for the rest of my life!"

Hermione gave a snort and glared over the top of the pages. "Harry, I really need to concentrate! And at this point, there’s nothing more for you to do... we’ll head over as soon as I’ve found the information needed! Now please, be quiet!"

He opened his mouth to retort, but she’d already looked back to her place. Harry sighed softly, trying not to disturb the research. It was so difficult to sit, without anything to do...

And then a shriek sounded through the library. Harry sat up straight, not caring what Voldemort might See. "Hermione, what is it?"

She looked up slowly, face an image of horror. "Oh, God... Harry, we’ve got it all wrong!"