Harry Potter and the Loss of Innocence

Chapter Thirty-One: Lightning

To be hurt
To feel lost
To be left out in the dark
To be kicked when you're down
To feel like you've been pushed around
To be on the edge of breaking down
And no one's there to save you
No, you don't know what it's like
Welcome to my life
~Simple Plan: Welcome To My Life

Harry took a deep breath and promised himself that he wouldn't lose his temper. He just wished that Ron would follow the same rule. It didn't look like he'd have that luck today.

"I thought I told you not to date Ginny!" Ron bellowed at Harry.

"You never said that," Harry argued calmly.

"Don't play mind games, Potter!" Ron screamed, taking a step away from the door. "You do not have the permission to see my sister alone. In fact, I don't want you eating with her any longer!"

"That's not fair to me or Ginny," Harry said lightly. "And your mother said it was alright, so I'm going with her authority over yours."

"Don't play your games, Potter," Ron repeated loudly, spraying spit all over the place. "You have my mother wrapped around your finger, so of course she's going to agree with you."

"I never talked to her about this," Harry told him. "She talked to Gin and only Gin. Look, Ron, I'm sorry for--"

"Sorry's don't count!" Ron hollered, taking another step forward. "Sorry's wouldn't have undone anything, had you gone farther!"

"I'm sorry I betrayed your trust," Harry said loudly over Ron's continual muttering. "But, Ron, Gin's the only thing that has kept me together. I can't get rid of her; I can't just let her walk away. Not now, and I don't think I'll ever be able to. Anyway, Ginny's a fifteen, almost sixteen-year-old woman, let her make her choices and face the consequences."

"Having her get pregnant?" Ron asked outraged. "I'm not going to let her face that consequence if I can help it!"

"She's not going to get pregnant, because I'm not going to have sex with her anytime soon," Harry told Ron truthfully. "Ron, I don't want Gin hurt either, but it'll hurt her if we break up and it'll hurt her if you don't accept us."

"What about if you get killed?" Ron asked spitefully. "What then, won't she hurt then?"

"Are you so positive that I'm going to die?" Harry retorted, feeling hurt. "Are you so sure that Voldemort will win? 'Cause if that's the case, life won't be worth living anyways. If I broke up with her tonight," Harry argued logically, "and I died a year or so later, don't you think Gin would still be hurt? And let's say she wasn't hurt by my death, would life be worth living anyways? Don't use that on me, Ron. It's not fair!"

"You're going to get her killed!" Ron yelled, almost pitifully, for a tear dripped down his cheek unbidden.

"Then let her be happy until she dies," Harry replied softly. "But I'm going to do everything in my power to keep her, you, Hermione, and everyone else alive. I'm not going to let Voldemort take you guys away from me without a serious fight."

"I don't care," Ron shouted, blinded by his anger. "I don't want you--"

"Hey, Harry," Neville said poking his head through the door, "can you help me with Potions? I don't understand it."

"He's busy," Ron snapped back at Neville.

"No, I'm done in here, Ron," Harry said calmly, walking past Ron. "I'll help you, Neville. What exactly do you need help with?" Harry felt Ron's blazing glare follow him out the room and down the stairs and couldn't help but feel depressed. Things were really not right anymore.

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That weekend was horrible. He didn't have Ron or Hermione next to him to pass the time with and he didn't dare do anything with Ginny, fearing Ron would blow another fuse. He didn't have a training session with Thia, Remus, and Tonks, and he didn't know why. He had received a note that said that the lesson was cancelled and that was it. But the weekend finally ended and the week began.

The week, though, passed even more slowly for Harry. Never before had his classes been so hard to pay attention in or so absolutely boring. Without Ron to laugh with and without Hermione to keep him on task, classes became a trial of concentration and torture.

His morning training with Bryant was improving somewhat, thankfully. He could run the distances Bryant asked without problems, but the fighting was as hard as ever. They had put aside the sword for the time being and were working on hand to hand fighting. Bryant had said that he had never met a student less trained in the art of fist fighting.

Lessons with Keene were a blast. Keene was teaching Harry a few cool spells and Harry couldn't wait for the time that the D.A. would be able to handle them. One spell was a simple enough charm that flipped your opponent's hair into his face. The only problem was aiming the spell well enough to hit their scalp. An ever cooler spell was a throwing spell that propelled the target six or more feet away. That one was Harry's favorite.

Althea's lessons weren't quite as exciting as Keene's or physically challenging as Bryant's, but they were hard and interesting in their own right. Althea had a way of showing you the importance of learning the little things behind the actual spell. Harry appreciated that, because he thought he might have stopped those lessons otherwise. He appreciated knowing why he was doing something a certain way and why he shouldn't do it another.

The week started on a bad note and ended on one. Snape had informed Harry Monday during class that his first detention would be served that Friday after supper in the dungeons. Harry dragged his feet down the stairs and towards his least favorite classroom. Once at the door to Snape's office, Harry knocked and waited for a voice to call him in.

"You're late, Potter," Snape said waspishly from behind his desk.

"I'm sorry, Professor," Harry apologized sincerely. "The clock in the Gryffindor common room was set back ten minutes by some first years."

"That's a poor excuse," Snape informed him.

"It's not an excuse; it's the truth," Harry replied smoothly. Harry could have sworn that the corners of Snape's mouth turned upwards in a smile. "What would you like me to do, Professor?"

"I've noticed that you enjoy picking apart potions," Snape said, shuffling through a stack of parchment in the center of his desk. Harry was surprised that Snape had noticed. "I want you to take a look at this poison and map out how it works."

Harry took the offered parchment and sat down on the floor in a corner. He took a quill, ink, and parchment out of his bag and set to work. Snape sat at his desk correcting papers, but Harry ignored him. They worked like that in silence for almost twenty minutes, before Snape put the stopper on his red ink and stood. He walked over to where Harry sat and looked at his work.

"That's not quite right," Snape said pointing to some of Harry's work. "It's the secretion from lobalugs that cause the numbness. I wanted to ask you what you meant last Monday when we were talking about the skin eating poison."

"It was in one of the visions I had from Voldemort," Harry said evasively.

"The Dark Lord only has two uses for that poison," Snape informed Harry. "And the Order would have heard about the second use. Who did he initiate over Christmas break?"

Harry looked at the potions master with surprise. "I can't tell you that, Professor. I'm not telling anyone."

"May I ask questions about that person?" Snape asked delicately. Harry nodded. "Is his father a Death Eater?" Harry nodded. "Is he a Slytherin?" Harry nodded again. "Is he a leader in the house?" Harry nodded again. "Thank you for telling me, Mr. Potter." Harry nodded.

"Why do you need to know?" Harry asked. "You can't change the fact."

"I need to protect the students in my House," Snape answered. "And that includes keeping tabs on the Death Eater wanna-bies and those with the Mark. And one never knows if the person in question might change sides." Harry shrugged indifferently, thinking that Malfoy would never switch sides.

Harry went back to work, ignoring Snape. This wasn't so bad for a detention. Harry had enjoyed this part of the new Potions curriculum and he wasn't going to complain if this was all Snape had him do. Snape went back to his desk and took out another stack of papers and started to correct them. An hour passed and Harry started to wonder when Snape would let him out.

Finally, half an hour later, Snape told him to leave. Harry placed his work onto Snape's desk and left, glad to be free. He walked up the flights of stairs until he reached the Fat Lady.

"Christmas holidays rock," Harry told her tiredly and walked forward, right into her closed portrait.

"Careful there, dear," she told him.

"Why didn't you open?" Harry asked angrily.

"You didn't give the password," she told him, stating what she believed was the obvious.

"Wasn't 'Christmas holidays rock' the password?" Harry asked, completely stunned.

"It was, dear, but isn't any longer," she told him.

"Can't you let me in?" Harry asked her, just wanting to head to bed.

"I can't unless you give me the password," she told him.

"You know I'm a Gryffindor, though," he argued.

"I can't let you in without the password."

"Fine, I'll go find Professor McGonagall." Harry turned and hurried to Professor McGonagall's office several floors below. Lucky for Harry, she was still there.

"Mr. Potter," she said, surprised, "it's past curfew." Harry looked at the clock and smiled weakly at her.

"You knew that I had detention with Professor Snape tonight, correct?" he asked her. She nodded and motioned for him to sit. "Well, he let me go but when I arrived at the Fat Lady's portrait I couldn't get in."

"Did you give her the password?" McGonagall asked logically.

"Yes, but it was changed between the time I left for my detention and when I arrived back," Harry told her. She looked at him, clearly showing her astonishment.

"The password wasn't cleared through me," she told the confused boy. "Since the mess we had with Sir Cadogan, I must clear all passwords before they're put into use." Harry nodded in understanding. "The only person who can retrieve a password is the Headmaster, so let's hurry and ask him."

They left her office and headed to Professor Dumbledore's office a short way away. She uttered the password, moving the gargoyles, and they climbed onto the moving spiral staircase. At the top, Professor McGonagall knocked and Dumbledore told them to enter.

McGonagall informed the Headmaster of the problem and he nodded in understanding. He took down one of his instruments and tuned it carefully. After he was done fiddling with it, he tapped it with his wand. In a high, squeaky voice it said, "Backstabber!" and then fell quiet.

Harry sighed and took a seat, running his fingers through his hair. Why couldn't Ron just let it go? Why did he have to keep rubbing it in his face?

"What's the matter?" McGonagall asked worriedly.

"Nothing," Harry muttered; he wasn't about to explain to these two people what happened.

"Is this Mr. Weasley's doing?" Professor Dumbledore asked in understanding.

"I believe so," Harry said tiredly.

"Is everything alright between the two of you?" McGonagall asked, concerned for both of her students involved.

"Oh, yes," Harry answered sarcastically. "Everything's just peachy." The two professors exchanged worried looks, but Harry had stood up to leave. "I need to go to bed. Goodnight, Professors."

"Goodnight, Mr. Potter," McGonagall called after him.

"Harry, how was your detention?" Dumbledore asked as Harry was reaching for the doorknob.

"It was rather pleasant," Harry answered, surprising both adults. "Professor Snape had me map out a poison for him and we talked about something."

"What?" Dumbledore asked curiously.

"Something I had said to get the detention," Harry answered evasively. "Nothing important."

"Oh, well then, goodnight, Harry," Dumbledore said, dismissing him.

"Goodnight, Headmaster," Harry offered and then finally headed to bed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry climbed the stairs to his dorm room wearily fifteen minutes later. He stopped before his door and eased it open. The other boys were asleep and Harry was relieved that the door didn't wake them up. He paused to wonder why the door squeaked; usually the house elves took care of squeaky doors.

He changed into his pajamas, losing valuable sleeping time by confusing his shirt for his pajama trousers. He spent several minutes trying to force his legs through the armholes before he realized his mistake. He hastily fixed the problem and took off his glasses. He climbed into bed and under the warm comforter, pulling the bed curtains shut. He finally laid his head down and sat back up with a swallowed oath. He had hit his head against something hard.

He grabbed for his glasses and wand through the bed curtains and hurriedly lit the tip up. He looked at his pillow and saw the Journal sitting there. He smiled and picked it up. He tapped it with his wand and muttered, "A few things are easier to write." He opened it up and found the letter Ginny had written.

Dear luv,

I can't believe you thought of this! It takes all my will power not to tell Hermione about it, because neither of us thought you or Ron were that thoughtful. Oh, that came out wrong, but too late now!

This week has been a bummer of a week. With Ron and Hermione out of sorts with you, life seems boring and lifeless. I never realized how much time I spent with you three and I know it must be harder on you. You look kind of lost without them, but not as bad as Ron does.

I wonder what's eating him. He shouldn't be so mad for just this. It doesn't make sense. Mum sent him a letter yelling at him. (Thankfully it wasn't a howler!) And you know what Ron did, he yelled at me for tattling. I didn't tell mum about him and I know Hermione didn't. I wonder if Thia or McGonagall told her.

I need to spend some time with you this next week. It isn't fair if Ron ruins our relationship because he's stubborn. I don't think I can spend another week like this one, so let's do something fun. I like the idea of flying on the Quidditch pitch, but it's your turn to treat me. Oh, wait! No, it's my turn. So that's what we'll do, but only if you want to.

Did you hear that Tonks and Remus had a huge row last week? I wrote a letter to the twins about Operation Wedding and they told me a little about it. I guess it was about the fight Thia and Remus had over Christmas break. I hope they don't break off the engagement because they are perfect for one another.

Talk to you about our date next Friday tomorrow sometime.

Until then,

Ginny

P.S. I just heard Ron's announcement for the new password. He supposedly changed it to "Backstabber" in honor of the Weird Sister's old hit by the same title. But Ron hates that song and strongly dislikes the Weird Sisters, so I don't think that's the true reason. I hope you didn't have difficulties getting in after your detention. Oh, and I hope that that went all right. GMW

Harry smiled weakly at Ginny's concern and cleared the pages. He'd wait to write her back until he had slept. He could barely keep his eyes open long enough to read the letter, let alone write another one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry and Ginny watched the Ravenclaw vs. Slytherin game Saturday morning. They were both impressed with the team Sephra had put up for the Slytherins. The team was amazing and played well together and they didn't cheat. Harry started to worry about her team when the game ended with Sephra catching the snitch. The score was 100-230 to the Slytherins.

He spent the afternoon with Ginny in the common room. They played a game of chess, but were just talking. Harry told her about his detention with Snape and his problem with the password. They walked down to the Great Hall and ate dinner next to each other. Towards the end, Professor McGonagall asked to speak with Ron privately and when they came back both looked cross.

The next afternoon, Harry made his way to the Dark Arts classroom for a training session with Thia, Remus, and Tonks. Harry was nervous about how this would turn out, because the twins reported that all three were angry at each other.

"Hello, Harry," Thia said happily. Harry could almost touch the awkwardness in the room; it was suffocating.

"Hey," Harry replied uncertainly. "What are we doing today?"

"We're going to duel," Remus answered, quickly getting to his feet. "En garde."

"No, Remus," Tonks interjected. "Thia was going to run Harry through an Occlumency drill."

"No, I wasn't," Thia snapped, "we were going to talk about the ways to incorporate healing into battle."

"How about," Harry said, stopping the developing fight, "we practice dueling when everyone's here to criticize me. We can practice Occlumency and talk about healing on Tuesday, Thia."

The three adults nodded and Harry started his duel with Remus. Remus was still heaps beyond Harry and way too fast for him, but Harry did better than he usually did against Remus.

The girls had a field day with the duel, but most of their comments were directed at Remus. Harry started to get annoyed and felt his temper start to boil over; he had been suppressing it for too long. The comments turned bitter and Remus started to retaliate. It was only a matter of seconds until they were screaming at each other.

Harry stood and walked over to one of the bookshelves. He thought quickly and then sent a spell at it. The whole thing fell forward, surprising the three adults out of their argument.

"Thank you, for your attention," Harry said sharply. "I thought you were the adults and I was the kid, but I guess I'm wrong." They looked away embarrassed. "I don't know what's the matter, but I'm dealing with enough arguments, without you three adding more," he said loudly and bitterly. "Now, if you're not going to teach me, I'll leave and find a better use of my time."

"No, wait Harry," Thia said apologetically. "We'll stop." And stop they did, though the training wasn't nearly as fun nor as informative as the weekends normally were.

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The next two weeks passed in similar fashion. Harry spent most of his time with Ginny, Hermione spent most of her time with Lavender and Parvati, and Ron spent his time alone and brooding. That was how the month of January passed: the golden trio not so golden any longer.

Harry was more or less miserable. His studies started to fail and fall by the wayside. He couldn't summon up enough energy to study for tests, finish simple homework assignments, or listen during class. His teachers were worried, new and old alike.

The only teacher that Harry wasn't disappointing was Bryant. Harry had thrown himself into those training sessions, learning how to fight by leaps and bounds. The physical energy he had to dispense in those classes allowed him to fall asleep at night. Even though, the rest wasn't void of the normal nightmares, he at least spent more time asleep than awake during the nights.

Ginny was worried for Harry. Her letters to him were filled with the same messages. "Don't get swept away!" "Just talk to him, he might listen now." "Hermione isn't mad, just say hi to her and she'll talk to you again." Harry didn't know what would have happened had he not had Ginny, even if her concern was slightly annoying. He had never felt so lost before, not even after Sirius' death. At least he had Ron and Hermione at that time, but now he didn't even have them.

February dawned cold and viciously windy. The Quidditch team was practicing three times a week: twice after school and once on Saturday. They had their second game in three weeks and Katie and Harry were determined to win it. Hufflepuff had a good team, but they shouldn't have a problem with them. Well, they shouldn't, but the team was in turmoil. The keeper was livid with the captains. He was obviously angry with Harry, but was furious with Katie for standing up for Harry. Ginny was angry at Ron's near-sightedness and the rest of the team was shaken by the end of the golden trio.

Yes, the end. Harry had resigned himself, weakly and guiltily, to the end of the greatest friendship he had ever had. He couldn't get Ron to talk to him since a fight they had had at Quidditch practice the week before. Hermione wouldn't sit with either of the boys and Harry knew that Ron and Hermione had called it quits with their relationship. It was over. The best five years of his life and they were gone forever, a wished for dream that would never come again. Harry, though, couldn't help but wish for it.

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It was Friday night, right after the week's D.A. lesson. Ginny was helping him clean up the scattered cushions, but Professor McGonagall cleared her throat. Harry glanced at her, surprised; he had thought she had left.

"I need to speak with you, Mr. Potter," she said looking at Ginny significantly. Ginny nodded in understanding and left the room; Harry hoped she hadn't gone far, because he needed to ask her out for Valentine's Day.

"What would you like, Professor?" Harry asked politely, sitting down in a chair that had appeared with a simple thought.

"We need to discuss your failing grades," she said tiredly. "It has come to my attention that you are barely passing most of your classes, if not all of them. You are slipping, Mr. Potter, and I will not allow you to." Harry looked at her, surprised. "You're a bright boy and shouldn't be getting the grades you are receiving. If your grades don't improve in the next two weeks I'll have no choice but to remove you from the Quidditch team and take away your captaincy."

Harry gaped at her in horror. "You can't do that!" he sputtered vainly.

"And why not, Mr. Potter?" she asked with a raised eyebrow and thin lips.

"Because there's a game the next day!" he responded angrily. "You can't kick me off the team on the evening before a Quidditch game."

"I can and I will," she replied with authority, "unless you bring your grades back up to your normal level. Also, I should inform you that Althea and Druce are very disappointed in your drop in quality." Harry hung his head down, thinking for the first time in weeks about his grades and lack of attention in class.

"All right, Professor," Harry said quietly, "I'll bring them back up. Or at least try to."

"Harry, is everything alright?" she asked kindly. Harry looked at her and nodded, even though his eyes were screaming no. "I want you to come to me if you have any problems, do you understand?" Harry nodded once again and she smiled, though it was a small one. "Goodnight, Mr. Potter."

"Goodnight, Professor." She left and Ginny re-entered, the questions forming on her lips already. "She wanted to talk about my grades," Harry informed her before the questions could be let loose. He thought about their hiding place and the cliffs appeared. As they sat under the old oak tree, Harry told her about the short conversation.

"She's right you know," Ginny said softly into his shoulder where her head was resting.

"I know," Harry responded tiredly. "I just don't care anymore. It doesn't seem worth it without Ron and Hermione."

"Harry James Potter," Ginny cried angrily getting to her feet. "How dare you think it doesn't matter? It does! They still care for you. You just need to talk to Hermione and she'll forgive you. She's mad at you now for ignoring her this whole month. And Ron, well, he'll be harder, but he doesn't hate you."

"I don't know Gin," Harry responded doubtfully.

"Well, I do know, luv," she said with a smile that was contagious. Harry stood and wrapped his arms around her.

"Thanks, Gin," he whispered into the top of her head. "Thank you so much." All of a sudden music filled the air and Ginny started to sway to the beat of her favorite slow song. Harry danced with her and they spent several repeats of the song like that. When he finally pulled away, he looked deep in her eyes. She was a keeper for sure. "Hey, Gin," he said instead, "do you want to do something on Valentine's Day? It's a Hogsmeade trip and I'd love to take you on a date."

She smiled and nodded. They walked out of the room, Harry glancing back at the ocean, calm and serene.

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"Why are you doing this to my family?" a black man yelled. Harry glanced at the room casually, taking in all the details. There were two disheveled bodies of young girls lying on the floor several feet away. Next to the man lay a woman, scared, scarred, and bleeding from several hours of torture she'd been put through. On the other side of the very muggle room lay the unconscious bodies of several young boys.

Voldemort just laughed in response to the question and turned to face his Death Eaters. "Continue as you were," he said to the happily sadistic men and women in the black robes.

Voldemort left with a "pop" and Harry went along with him. They were now standing in a magical family's house. Harry had only a moment to take in the open copy of Lockhart's magical pest removal book when he heard the screams of a witch. Voldemort strode through the opened doors into a connecting room and laughed when he saw the sight. Harry felt his scar burn with the pain.

His laughter caused a halt in the torturing and the Death Eaters turned to bow to their master. Voldemort looked over their handiwork and Harry felt his stomach heave. A woman of Asian decent was lying on the floor covered in her own puke and blood.

"Why?" she sobbed at the horror that stood before her. "Why?" Voldemort just laughed and motioned for them to continue. A Death Eater stepped forward and forced a potion down her throat. It cased her to puke, but all that came out was blood and tissue from her stomach. Voldemort disappeared with another "pop" and reappeared in a room decorated with family portraits.

On the floor lay a man clutching the dead body of his wife. Both were bleeding, their blood mingling on the floor below them, staining the white carpet. The man had little skin on his arms and legs; Harry recognized it as the effect of the skin-eating poison. The woman was missing large chunks also, but she had already been delivered from the pain and suffering.

"What have we done to deserve this?" the man cried from the floor. "We have been faithful to you, my Lord."

"You may have, but your son hasn't," Voldemort replied with dark humor. "Continue."

He left once more and reappeared in the front yard of a farmhouse. Outside laid the writhing forms of a woman and her three children. They were obviously muggle and Harry could tell that they were under the Cruciatus Curse. Voldemort strode forward and watched with sadistic enjoyment. Finally the witch that was causing the pain lifted the curse and bowed low to her master.

"Very good, Bella," he congratulated her. "Now for the finishing touches." Bella took out a knife and walked over to the twitching bodies of the small family. She bent down to the youngest one and grabbed his small head. She carved something carefully into his forehead, but Harry couldn't tell what it was. She rose and repeated the process.

"Why--are you--doing this to--my family?" the woman gasped out through the pain.

Voldemort circled to face the woman. "Because your son has allied himself with my enemy." Harry screamed and felt his scar erupt in pain. On each of their foreheads was etched a jagged shape he recognized as a lightning bolt. Voldemort visited each of the houses and the ceremony was repeated. Each body, whether dead or alive, now bore a mark Harry had learnt to loathe, a lightning bolt scar.

And throughout the whole ordeal, Harry never once stopped screaming in fear, anger, grief, guilt, and, of course, from the pain. His life was just not right.