Magic At Its Deepest

Chapter Eight

"Er, Ron?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad you're not too nervous to eat, but...if you don't slow down, you're going to pop."

"What do you mean?" Ron asked as he looked up at Harry from his fourth serving of sausage and eggs. It was the morning of the first Quidditch match of the season, and the first game Ron would ever play as Captain and Keeper. Either he wasn't as nervous as Harry had been before his first game, or they had very different ways of dealing with stress. Harry suspected the latter; even Ron usually stopped after the third helping.

"I mean," Harry said wryly, "that you're eating too much. Trust me, when you get up on that broom, you don't want to have too much in your stomach." Harry smirked. "Besides, what if the game lasts a long time and your bladder starts to..."

"All right! All right!" Ron dropped his fork, giving Harry a dirty look. "I'll stop eating."

"Good," said Harry, and took his plate. "I'll just finish that sausage for you, then."

"Boys," said Hermione and Ginny, in perfect unison. Harry just grinned at them unrepentantly, picking up one of Ron's sausages.

And then the doors swung open, and Rubeus Hagrid walked into the Great Hall.

Harry leapt out of his chair, the sausage forgotten. "Hagrid!" he yelped, and ran across the room, flinging himself on the gamekeeper, clutching his waist.

Hagrid blinked rapidly down at Harry, startled. "'Allo, 'Arry," he said at length, patting his shoulder. "Miss me, did yeh?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "A lot." He looked up at Hagrid, grinning widely. "Charlie's great, but he's not you."

Hagrid went red, but before he could speak, Dumbledore walked up behind them, putting his hand on the other man's shoulder. "Hagrid," he said warmly. "It is good to have you back."

"Thank yeh, Headmaster," said Hagrid. "It's good ter be home."

"You're just in time for the first Quidditch match of the year," said Harry happily. "We're playing Slytherin today."

"Ar, I'm sorry, 'Arry," said Hagrid. "I 'ave ter..."

"You should go, Hagrid," said Dumbledore serenely. "Our business will keep until tonight. There are other things you need to be told, anyway."

Hagrid blinked, then nodded. "All righ', sir," he said. Then he looked over at the Head Table, and his eyebrows went up.

"Later, Hagrid," said Dumbledore before Hagrid could ask. "We'll discuss it all after the game."

Ron's debut as Captain and Keeper went spectacularly well; by the time Harry caught the Snitch, the score was 170-0. It was the best game Harry'd ever played in, and when it was over they returned to Gryffindor Tower for a loud, enthusiastic party. Butterbeer was consumed in massive quantities, and Ron's hand was shaken until he thought it was going to fall off. All in all, the students of Gryffindor House had a very good morning.

About thirty minutes into the party, Harry hopped up on one of the chairs and cleared his throat. "Oi! You lot!" he yelled, and the Gryffindors fell silent. "Let's have a toast!" All the Gryffindors reached for their glasses, grinning widely at him. "To our new Captain and Keeper," said Harry. Ron's ears went red. "My best friend, Ron Weasley. Ron, you're the only person I know who really believes the Chudley Cannons have a shot at it, and I can only say that it's a good thing this delusion doesn't effect your talent."

"Hear, hear!" said somebody from the direction of Seamus Finnegan.

Harry grinned as Ron glared at him. "Seriously, mate. We never shut them out completely, even with Wood, and he was brilliant. With him, we were really good, but with you, I reckon we're unstoppable, and there's nobody we'd rather have as our Captain." He raised his glass, grinning at his best friend, who was now scarlet with pleased embarrassment. "Here's looking forward to a whole season of making Draco Malfoy miserable."

The room roared with approval, and Fred and George hopped up on the table in front of Harry. "To Ron!" they chorused, and the room echoed the sentiment before draining their glasses.

Harry flashed Ron another quick smile, and started to step down from his chair - but then his forehead exploded with pain, and he felt himself pitching forward as the vision hit.

It was a very nice living room. The furnishings were all quite elegant, almost certainly antiques, and dripped good taste. The sofa and chairs were fashioned from mahogany and crowned with rich brown cushions. One of these chairs, a tall, elegantly curved piece patterned with ivy leaves, was tilted slightly askew from the others, and perched in that chair, looking right at home, was Voldemort.

He was not as skinny as Harry remembered, but his face, the white skin, red eyes, and flat nose, had changed none at all over the months since Snape's death. He looked, in fact, eerily like his pet snake Nagini, who was curled in a lethal coil in his lap, head resting on her master's knee as though she were a bizarre serpentine lapdog. When he spoke, Harry was unable to repress a shiver; his voice, like his face, had not changed. "Bring him," he said, and Harry watched as Peter Pettigrew was flung forward onto the rug at the Dark Lord's feet. This brought the rug to Harry's attention, and he stared at it, shivering slightly. It was intricately woven, the same deep brown as the chair mingled with an even darker green, black, and the occasional thread of silver. The pattern seemed, to Harry, to suggest hundreds of writhing, hungry snakes, and as Pettigrew hit it, it writhed underneath him as if trying to wrap itself around him and devour him whole.

"So," said Voldemort. Harry and Peter both looked up at him. "Wormtail. You return to my side, after failing me in your last mission."

Pettigrew blanched. "Y-yes, m-my lord," he stammered. "I'm s-s-sorry..."

"Tell me, Wormtail. How is it that one of my Death Eaters, the same one who once killed thirteen people with a curse and managed to send the great Sirius Black to Azkaban, cannot even manage to properly kill a man whose magical training stopped in his third year at Hogwarts?"

Wormtail swallowed. "My Lord...the half-giant was too well protected with his mother's people..."

"You're making excuses, Wormtail," said Voldemort silkily. "You know you should have been able to kill him. You know how you've failed me."

Wormtail lowered his head. "Yes, My Lord," he admitted softly. "I know."

"There, you see? Was that so hard to admit, Wormtail?" Voldemort said, sounding for all the world like a loving parent chastising a wayward child. Pettigrew and Harry both started to relax, and then Voldemort pulled his wand, and they both stiffened again. "I should really punish you, Wormtail, for failing me," Voldemort said.

Pettigrew flinched. "My L-Lord..."

"But instead, I have decided to give you one more chance to prove yourself to me."

Pettigrew looked up, his expression hopeful. "My Lord?"

Voldemort leaned over and looked Pettigrew in the eye, his expression intent. "Yes. One more chance," he said again. "Succeed, and I will reward you beyond your wildest dreams. Fail, and...well, I don't have to tell you what will happen if you fail me, do I, Wormtail?"

Harry and Pettigrew shivered in unison. No, Voldemort didn't have to tell either of them how he rewarded failure. "I will not fail you again, My Lord," Pettigrew said. "I swear it."

"Good." Voldemort smiled coldly. "Wormtail, I want you to go to Hogwarts."

Harry's heart skipped a beat as Pettigrew's eyes grew round with horror. Pettigrew at Hogwarts. Pettigrew, within reach, and they would know about it. Finally, finally, they would have a chance to catch him, to clear Sirius' name. Harry could leave the Dursleys, live with the godfather he loved so much...

Judging by Pettigrew's expression, Harry wasn't the only one who was having visions of the rat's capture. All the color had drained from Pettigrew's face, and he was trembling all over. "M-My lord," he stammered. "Yes, m-my Lord, but...why?"

Voldemort smiled coldly. "To kill Remus Lupin."

All the elation Harry'd felt over the thought of Sirius' name being cleared drained out of him in a horrifying rush. 'Kill Remus Lupin'. Harry's blood ran cold at the very thought. Voldemort wanted Remus dead, and if he wanted it badly enough, he would make sure it happened.

"What's happening to him, Ron?"

"Why is he screaming like that?"

"Bloody Hell, his scar's bleeding!"

"Should we get McGonagall?"

"No, Madame Pomfrey..."

"Shut up!"

Silence fell. The Gryffindors hovering protectively around Harry turned around to stare in amazement at Hermione, who'd shrieked that command at the top of her lungs. "Er...Hermione?" said one of the twins, very quietly.

Hermione pinned him with a very dangerous look. "He needs space," she said quietly. "He doesn't need us crowding him. When he wakes up, and he will, he won't want us to be cosseting him."

"She's right," said Ron. "You've seen him with Madame Pomfrey. ''Yes, Madame, I know I just fell fifty feet from my broom, but I'm fine, really...'"

"But Ron," said Ginny from where she stood next to him, "what's happening to him?"

Ron and Hermione exchanged looks, and then Ron, very quietly, said, "I can't tell you, Ginny. Not because I don't trust you," he added hastily at the look on her face. "But it's not our secret to tell...especially in front of all these people. We can trust you, sure...but contrary to popular opinion, not all of You-Know-Who's followers were Slytherin."

Ginny stared at Ron in amazement for a long minute, and Ron wondered for a minute whether she was surprised that he had said that or surprised that he knew what 'contrary' meant. Then, very quietly, she whispered, "When did you get so smart?"

Ron blinked at her, then smiled wryly. "When your best friend is You-Know...er, V-Voldemort's prime target," he said, pronouncing the Dark Lord's name with some difficulty, "you learn real quick."

Ginny's eyebrows disappeared into her hair, but before she could comment, a soft groan from behind them alerted them to Harry's wakening. They both turned, and Ron went over to Harry, kneeling at his side. "Welcome back, mate," he whispered.

Harry's eyes fluttered open, and he blinked for a moment, then leapt to his feet. "Dumbledore," he said. "I have to go."

And before anybody could ask he was on about, he was gone, racing out of the room.

As Harry ran through the halls of the castle, the teaching staff of Hogwarts assembled in the Headmaster's office. Hagrid was very quickly caught up on all the events of the term, the exceptions being Lily Potter's return from the dead and Sirius Black's presence at the school. He was introduced to 'Profess Keating' and greeted her cordially, and expressed such pleasure in Remus' return to the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor it left the werewolf pink with pleased embarrassment.

About half an hour into the meeting, as Charlie Weasley caught Hagrid up on the things he'd been teaching the students, Remus looked up and over at the door. "Harry's coming," he said softly. "He smells upset."

"Wonder what's happened," said Sirius, and stood to let Harry in. Harry, however, seemed to have forgotten his manners; the doors flew open, and he stumbled in, eyes red and puffy, tears streaming down his face. "Harry!" said Sirius. "What on earth is the matter?"

Harry didn't answer, simply looked around the room and then surprised them all by flinging himself on a very astonished Remus Lupin. "Er...Harry?" he said, bewildered.

Harry tightened his grip, burying his face in the werewolf's shoulder, shaking uncontrollably. "Remus," he gasped between soft sobs. "I won't let him...won't let him do it, Remus. We'll catch him, I promise we won't let him..."

Remus blinked rapidly and reached down, cautiously patting Harry's shoulder. "Harry...what's going on? Won't let who do what?"

"Voldemort," said Harry softly, and pulled away to look Remus in the face. "I had another vision. Voldemort's sent somebody to kill you."

Remus froze and stared at the teenager in shock. Behind him, he heard startled intakes of breath from the rest of the faculty, as well as a low growl from Sirius and muffled cursing from Hagrid. "Really?" he said, very quietly, his hand gripping Harry's shoulder tightly.

Harry nodded, miserable. "Yeah," he said, dragging a sleeve over his eyes. "And he said if he could kill me too he'd be rewarded but you're the main goal."

Remus tightened his grip on Harry's shoulder and looked over at Sirius, who was watching them in mingled concern and fury. "I'm the main goal, eh?"

Harry nodded again. "He...he told the Death Eaters that you were too much of a threat to be allowed to live."

"I'm flattered." Remus smiled thinly, squeezing Harry's shoulder. "Thank you, Harry. I feel certain that I can avoid a horrible and untimely death now that I have a warning that it's coming."

Harry shuddered and clutched Remus again. "Don't joke," he snapped softly. "Please. The thought...I don't want to lose you."

Remus blinked, startled, and then hugged Harry back. "I know. I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I won't joke about it anymore." He stared out at nothing for a moment, then said, "But you know, since we know this is coming...maybe we can use it...set a trap."

All eyes turned to him. "What do you mean?" said Harry, surprised.

"Well, think about it," said Remus. "Voldemort doesn't know you can see him, right? So the Death Eater won't know that we know this is coming. So maybe we can hide...and when he tries to kill me, we can catch him."

"No," said Sirius and Harry in unison.

"It's too dangerous," said Sirius.

"Use me instead," said Harry.

This time, the 'no' was much louder, and came from every adult in the room. "Harrison James Potter, if you think for one minute that I'm going to let you do that, you are insane," said Remus, gripping the boy's shoulders tightly. "Not for me, not for anybody. Understood?"

"But Remus..."

"No. Listen, it's different if it's me. I'm stronger, I could fight him off. But one-on-one with a Death Eater with nowhere to hide, you wouldn't stand a chance, and Harry, trust me when I tell you that I don't want to lose you any more than you want to lose me."

Harry blinked up at him, then nodded slowly. "But what if he comes for me first?" he asked softly. "Voldemort would think a lot higher of him..."

"We'll protect you, Harry," said Sirius softly. "You're safe here."

"We thought that last year too, and look what happened," said Harry softly. "I'm not safe. Not anywhere. And I won't be until Voldemort is dead. You know that as well as I do, Sirius."

Silence fell. Harry blinked, then groaned silently as he realized what he'd just said. Damnit, Potter.

Sirius flinched visibly, and Remus closed his eyes, mouthing a silent curse word. Dumbledore's expression didn't change, but the twinkle left his eyes, and Harry cringed inwardly. Great. Really good, Harry. Next thing you'll be casually telling them all that your mother's back from the dead. Stupid, stupid...

"Black?" McGonagall said sharply, staring at Sirius.

Sirius sighed softly and looked over at Dumbledore, who nodded once. "Yeah," he said, and turned to face McGonagall. "Hello, Professor McGonagall."

For a moment, nobody moved - and then Hagrid launched himself at Sirius with a roar of rage. "Yeh murderin' bastard, how dare yeh!" he bellowed. "I'll tear yeh to pieces!"

Sirius cringed, a world's worth of guilt and hurt on his face for a second, and then braced himself for his fate. Before Hagrid could touch him, though, Harry had flung himself in front of Sirius, arms spread wide to protect his godfather.

The room exploded in sound. Everybody was talking at once, most of them trying to talk Harry into moving. Filius Flitwick shouted out a binding spell to try to get Harry to move, but Harry, who had plenty of experience with avoiding unwelcome spells, dodged with ease. Far more alarming to him was McGonagall, who had her wand pointed right between Sirius' eyes and seemed determined to do anything she had to do to protect Harry, not knowing that Sirius was the last person she needed to protect him from. "Potter, get out of the way," she snapped crisply.

"No!"

"Harry, move," said Madame Sprout, looking less like herself than he had ever seen her. Her wand was also aimed at Sirius' head.

"You can't hurt him!"

"Harry, just move, they won't hurt me, Dumbledore won't let them," said Sirius, trying to push his godson away.

"If they're not going to hurt you, then why are they pointing their wands at your head?"

"Potter," McGonagall said again. "Potter, move."

"Harry, he killed your parents..."

"Potter, it's for your own good..."

"Harry, just move..."

Harry shook his head and closed his eyes. All his teachers and some he didn't know where talking to him, very loudly, and Dumbledore was clearing his throat, trying to be heard, and everybody was talking over him, and suddenly it was just too much. His hand closed around his wand, and then it was out and pointing at McGonagall's heart.

The room went dead quiet.

"No," Harry said.