Harry Potter and the Carnelian Key

Harry jerked awake. He sat up, quickly gauging the level of light in the room, and guessed it was around 4:00. In the same instant, he looked around the room to make sure his roommates were still sleeping. Seeing the hangings around the four other beds were still drawn, and hearing lots of steady breathing and gentle snoring, Harry allowed himself to fall back against the pillow and catch his breath. It was his usual routine.

"Damn it," he muttered, pressing the heels of his hands to his head. He listened to the sound of his pulse pounding in his ears for a minute, and then rolled over onto his side and gazed out the window. He had taken to sleeping with his bed hangings open so that he could always see how close morning was, and so that he could immediately reassure himself that he hadn’t woken anyone up after having a nightmare. He assumed someone could be awake behind their own hangings without him knowing, but at least he could see if anyone had been so disturbed that they had jumped out of bed. So far, that hadn’t happened - not since that night at the Burrow - but he was nervous about it anyhow. He didn’t want anyone asking questions about why he slept this way, so he would shut his hangings when he got into bed at night and then open them very quietly once the room grew silent. No one noticed in the mornings. Harry had always been the quickest to rise upon hearing the alarm bell, even before his nightmares had become an every night occurrence. He guessed it was habit, a reflex leftover from days when Petunia had pounded on the cupboard door only ten minutes before he had to be ready for school.

His breathing had now slowed to normal, and the horrible images that had been running through his unconscious a few minutes before were fading. Harry focused his attention on the moon, which he could see beyond the open window. It was just slightly less than full. The sight bolstered Harry’s spirits somewhat. Lupin would be recovering now, and would be able to talk with him as scheduled. Harry and Sirius had made arrangements via owl post to talk through the fireplace in the common room at one o’clock the next morning. Harry hadn’t told him why he wanted to talk, but Sirius must have guessed it was important because he had owled back immediately, telling him that he and Lupin would be there and to come alone.

Harry stared out the window for a long time, and watched the sky turn from black all the way to sparkling blue without dozing off. He was tired all day afterwards, and he had to fight to keep his eyes open later during Transfiguration. He couldn’t focus at all. His mind kept going fuzzy and the only reason that his turtle looked at all like a mouse was because Hermione kept pointing her wand at it from behind the edge of the table and saying the incantations under her breath.

"Thanks," he mumbled for the fifth time.

"What’s wrong with you?" she asked through the side of her mouth.

"Nothing," he muttered. "I’m just tired."

She didn’t reply. Professor McGonagall was making her way down their row, evaluating everyone’s work.

"Eight, Mr. Weasley," she was saying, peering at Ron’s mouse over the top of her glasses and making a notation on her parchment. "He’s still a little too round, but not bad."

She moved in front of Hermione. "Ten. Very good. Hmm. Seven, Mr. Potter. The coloring is off and you haven’t quite got the body alignment right."

She was moving along when Hermione called, "Professor?"

"Yes, Miss Granger?" she replied, turning back.

Hermione lifted her hand to the garnet charm hanging around her neck and held it out slightly for their professor to see.

"I just wanted to thank you for helping Ron with this."

McGonagall stepped closer and looked down her nose so that she could see the necklace through her spectacles. The corners of her mouth turned up ever so slightly. "Mmm, yes. The birthday present. So Mr. Weasley did not try to tell you that it was the real one and that he bought it for 700 pounds?" she asked in, what for McGonagall, was an amused tone.

Hermione smiled shyly. "No, he told me the truth." She glanced down at the charm. "It’s just as beautiful as the one we saw in London, though. It looks exactly like it."

"Does it? Well, achieving specific appearances takes a lot of work. I only gave Mr. Weasley some basic advice. He did all the transfiguring himself." She shifted her glance to Ron. "Nice work, Mr. Weasley," and she moved on.

Ron was beaming. Professor McGonagall wasn’t generally forthcoming with compliments. He seemed to enjoy it. "How do you think I can get it right?" he asked Hermione, pointing at his mouse.

Later that night, the three of them sat in the Gryffindor common room, Hermione helping Ron figure out the best incantations, and the right amount of power behind each one, for turning a turtle into a mouse.

Harry had been dozing on and off at their table all night, but now he was wide awake, glancing around the room nervously. It was already after midnight and the room wasn’t near empty yet. He finally let out a sigh of relief when the last group of students rose from their seats, yawning, at ten till one. They passed by Harry, Ron, and Hermione on their way to the stairs, and Seamus Finnigan paused beside them.

"Hermione?" he asked. "I hate to bother you, but...I’ve been having trouble with my astronomy, and...I was wondering if maybe you wouldn’t mind helping me out a bit?"

Hermione smiled kindly. "Sure, Seamus, I’d be happy to help."

"Oh, thanks so much," he said, seeming very relieved, "I just can’t seem to make sense of this retrograde motion nonsense."

Harry glanced nervously at his watch, and then at the fireplace.

"Yes, it is a bit confusing," she replied quickly. "I was planning to work on some astronomy tomorrow night. How about we work on it together then?"

"Oh, that would be great. I would really appreciate it. Goodnight, then."

They all watched after him as he headed for the stairs, and the moment he was out of sight they dashed to the fireplace. The flames were dying down and Harry quickly revived them with an Incendio charm. They had just let out the breaths they had been holding when they heard a small ‘pop’ and Lupin and Sirius appeared side by side in the flames. Despite the unhappy reason for their meeting, Harry couldn’t prevent a large grin from spreading across his face when he saw them. He hadn’t seen his godfather since the night of the third task of the Triwizard Tournament, and it had been almost a year and a half since he had last set eyes on his beloved ex-professor. Harry immediately felt his anxiety slip down a notch just being in the same room with them, sort of. Here, before him, were his father’s two best friends, and they were here to help him. It was the next best thing to having his father there himself. He fell to his knees in front of the fire.

"Hi, Sirius," he said. "Hi, Professor. It’s great to see you again. We’ve missed you around here."

"I’ve missed being there, Harry," he replied with a smile.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked. "Are you both safe?"

"We’re fine," Lupin reassured him. "I’ve got a cabin. We’re not terribly far away."

Harry nodded. "Hedwig made the trip pretty quickly."

"Um, Harry," said Sirius softly but pointedly, "I thought I asked you to come alone."

"What? Oh! It’s just Ron and Hermione," Harry said, motioning behind him with an arm, "They just wanted to say hello. They’re going to make sure no one comes in."

"Oh," Sirius replied, "good. It’s good to see you both."

The oddly assembled group exchanged some quick hellos, and Ron headed off to guard the portrait hole, Hermione, the stairs to the dorms. When they were out of earshot, Harry turned his attention back to the fireplace and the two faces staring out of it. They looked very grave.

"We think we know why you wanted to talk, Harry," Sirius said. "No one has been telling you much of anything, and I’m sorry about that. You must be wondering what’s going on."

"Yes, I am."

"Well, what’s going on is...mostly nothing - from either side."

"I already knew the ministry wasn’t doing anything," Harry said, annoyed. "And I know that Voldemort’s lying low, but what about you? Dumbledore’s people? I know you’re not just sitting around and twiddling your thumbs."

"No, Harry, we’re not," Sirius said, glancing at Lupin.

"The truth is, Harry," Lupin took over, "It’s slow work. Sirius has to work completely behind the scenes - very few people know of his innocence, and we cannot risk having him found. Besides Sirius and me, there are only a handful of people that Dumbledore trusts to gather support...and, well, things aren’t going as smoothly as we had hoped. Very few people are anxious to mobilize against Voldemort -"

"WHY?" Harry shouted in frustration. "Do they want him to rise to power again? Do they want to see him start killing people?"

"No, no, of course not," Lupin replied quickly. "It’s just that there aren’t many people who are willing to go against the ministry."

"Arthur Weasley informed me that he told you about Fudge’s plan," Sirius said.

"What plan?"

"Precisely," Sirius responded. "Fudge isn’t stupid, mind you, he is keeping a close eye on things. But he is reluctant to take any action until he sees something to take action against. Says he doesn’t want to cause a panic. The more days that pass uneventfully, the more skeptical he becomes that Voldemort is a serious threat."

"What?" Harry exclaimed, growing steadily angrier, "How can he possibly think that? Does he think Voldemort resurrected himself just for laughs?"

"The only evidence there is that Voldemort is back is your word, Harry," Lupin said flatly.

Harry was stunned into silence. "Are you saying that Fudge doesn’t even believe it?" he finally asked.

"I think that he doesn’t want to believe it," Lupin said.

"Well, how does he explain the dead body that I brought back with me from that graveyard?"

"He acknowledges that the dark arts had something to do with Cedric’s death. But he keeps pointing out that no one was there. No one saw exactly what happened." Lupin shifted uncomfortably. "He thinks you may have...embellished the facts just a bit."

"WHAT?" Harry looked madly between his godfather and his old professor. "Is he convincing people of that?"

"No, not really, we don’t think," Lupin responded. "Dumbledore’s opinion does still carry a lot of weight."

"So people believe Dumbledore, they just don’t want to help him," Harry snapped.

"Well, basically, yes. That’s where we stand right now."

"I don’t understand that at all," said Harry in a defeated voice.

"People haven’t seen anything out of the ordinary, Harry," Sirius pointed out. "Things seem as peaceful as ever. It’s hard for people to prepare for warfare when they see no immediate threat. Bottom line, they’re waiting for a reason to act."

"The Ministry is all about defense, Harry, and there is nothing to defend against at the moment," said Lupin.

This conversation was making Harry’s head spin. It was just circular reasoning. Don’t do anything until there is a threat. But there may not be a threat if they’d just do something. "So what now?" he asked them.

"Well," Sirius said, "the Ministry may be all about defense, but Dumbledore is still about prevention. We’re all still working on it - on getting a force together. And we are getting there, but it is slow. Arthur Weasley is working tirelessly from within the Ministry, trying to get people on our side. Once we have a good group together, we’ll be able to put a plan into action. There is one person already, a spy-"

"Professor Snape," Harry interrupted.

Sirius and Lupin exchanged a glance. "Yes," Sirius said, obviously seeing no point in denying it. "But that isn’t going very well either. He isn’t gaining any trust. He says that he hasn’t even been called, not since that first night. He has tried to seek out some of the other Death Eaters, but they haven’t been very receptive to him. They don’t believe his story that he was just biding his time like the rest of them. He’s getting nothing. But he hasn’t been killed, so that’s a start."

"In the meantime, Dumbledore is getting uncomfortable," Lupin put in. "Things have been quiet for too long now. It doesn’t feel right. So he’s decided to take some more immediate precautions. Hogwarts is already very well protected, but he believes some extra steps are in order. He’s sent for some clabberts-"

"They’re here. I saw one."

"Good," he said. "He says he’s working on some other things too. And I hear he’s changed the nature of your defense classes." Harry nodded. Lupin took a deep breath. "And there is something else."

Harry’s stomach flipped over at the anxiety in his voice. "What?"

Lupin glanced at Sirius. "Harry," Sirius said, "Dumbledore and Remus and I have agreed that it is time you took some extra precautions yourself."

"Oh, I’m way ahead of you," Harry replied. "I know why Voldemort hasn’t taken any action yet. He’s still getting his own force together, still making plans...deciding how to get to me. Killing me is going to be his first goal. He needs to do that to show people that he’s back and that he’s powerful. He wants to start with a bang. Really get people’s attention. It could come at any time."

Sirius and Lupin looked somber.

"Well, I’m glad we’re on the same page, Harry," Sirius said. "I wasn’t looking forward to pointing all of that out to you."

"I was there, Sirius," Harry said. "I heard him tell the Death Eaters that he was going to kill me to prove that he was more powerful than me. He isn’t going to fool around this time. He’ll do it straight away. The only question is how he’s going to get to me."

"Well, we’ve been thinking about that," Lupin said, "but without any valuable informants, there is just no way to know what his plan will be. I think the best thing for you to do is to have a plan of your own. Know how you are going to protect yourself."

Harry nodded. "That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking about. But I haven’t been able to come up with anything because I keep running into a major problem."

"What’s that?" Sirius asked.

"Everything I’ve thought of needs a wand. All he has to do is get it away from me and I’ll be helpless."

"Not necessarily," Lupin said. "But we’ll talk about that in a minute. First, you should be prepared in case you do get a chance to use your wand before he gets it away from you."

Hearing Lupin speak like he knew Harry would be battling Voldemort made Harry suddenly very nauseous. He had known it himself, but hearing someone else confirm it somehow made it a lot more real - inevitable.

"There are a lot of spells you can use to defend yourself. You already know a lot of them, how to disarm, for example, how to stun, that sort of thing." He hesitated, and swallowed. "There are also others, ones that...aren’t exactly...legal."

"You mean the killing curse." Harry said, in a voice that sounded very faraway to his own ears.

"Yes, that’s one. You know that using the Avada Kedavra curse can get you a life sentence in Azkaban, but not if it’s used only in self defense. And I hardly think that the Ministry would lock you up for using it on Voldemort, even if you used it in offense."

"There’s just one tiny little problem with that," Harry said shortly. "I’m not nearly powerful enough to pull that off. It takes age and experience that I don’t have."

"It does require a lot of power, Harry," Lupin agreed. "And it’s not exactly something you can practice. DON’T TRY IT. Not even on a bug. The Ministry would immediately be alerted and you would be in a whole mess of trouble. But you are very powerful, Harry, when you need to be and when you are focused. It wouldn’t be impossible for you to do it successfully, but it is a long shot. I just don’t want you to rule it out."

"Okay."

"There are other things that you can try too, though. Lots of things. I’m pretty sure you’ll be learning most of them in Defense this year, but you might want to study ahead. I can help you if you need it. I’m sure Professor Matlock would help as well. And don’t be afraid to go to Dumbledore."

"Right."

"Some things you probably won’t be learning in class. The particularly difficult - and damaging - curses. You’ll have to research those on your own."

Harry was starting to hear a slight buzzing in his ears; it was a lot to hear at once. He blinked several times to clear his vision and regain his focus on what Lupin was telling him. "But none of this will be any use without my wand," he said.

"That’s true." Lupin took a deep breath. "So we’ve thought of something else."

"You’re going to need some objects, Harry," Sirius said. "Some things that may come in handy when you least expect it."

Harry had no idea what kind of things Sirius could be referring to. "What kind of objects? You mean like a sneakoscope or something?"

"Exactly!" he replied, then, "Well, no, not exactly. A sneakoscope makes noise and you wouldn’t want to alert anyone that you’re onto them. But there are other things."

"Like what?"

"Well, first of all, you’ll need to start carrying the invisibility cloak on you. Also, you’ll need to prepare some potions. We’ve researched some for you, and they’re complex. You’ll have to go to Snape for the ingredients."

"Don’t worry," Sirius continued before Harry had time to cringe. "Dumbledore is going to tell him to give you whatever you ask for - but don’t abuse that," he said with a warning smile. "Snape knows what every ingredient is used for; you won’t be able to pull any wool over his eyes."

"Okay. What are the potions?"

"There are four. One is a flying potion," Lupin said.

Harry’s jaw dropped. Despite the direness of the situation, he couldn’t help feeling the tiniest bit of excitement. "You mean...without a broomstick?"

"Yes," Lupin replied. "It is very useful, but it has its drawbacks, so listen carefully. Once you drink it, you’ll leave the ground immediately. And you can’t land. You can only fly - and it’s just like swimming, only you’re in the air."

"How long does it last?"

"It wears off after about an hour, so it’s no good for long distances. But you can prepare more than one dose. Maybe you should have about four hours worth. I suppose there is a chance that you couldn’t get as far as you would need to in four hours, but you would be too tired to continue after that long anyway. But if you have to use it, try to have the invisibility cloak on, so muggles won’t see you."

"Yeah, I’ll try to remember that when I’m fleeing for my life," Harry said sarcastically. Maybe that potion wouldn’t be so exciting after all...

Lupin smiled ruefully, but otherwise ignored his comment.

"What else?" Harry asked. He was starting to get a headache.

"A protection potion."

"Does that work like a protection bubble?"

"In a way, but it will protect against any curse...except Avada Kedavra."

Harry swallowed, and nodded. "How long for that one?"

"It depends on the curses used, and the strength behind them," Lupin explained. "If the curses are minor, it can last for a long time. But chances are, you won’t be that lucky. It can protect against things like the Imperio curse, or the cruciatus curse, but it wears off much more quickly. Probably after one or two curses."

"Should I have more than one of those then?"

"It wouldn’t be a bad idea. But I wouldn’t count on being able to use it more than once. Your attacker will probably be too quick to allow you a chance to get to it and drink it again, if even the first time."

"Right," Harry replied numbly.

Lupin charged ahead. "The third one is to block pain. If you’re...injured," he said carefully, and Sirius looked down, "or if the pain in your scar becomes too much. It should last the longest, but it too is proportional. The worse the pain is, the faster it wears off. At any rate, it should last at least several hours."

Harry was now sitting with his knees pulled up and his elbows resting on them, his hands gripping his hair. "Fourth?" he asked.

"Mind power."

"What?" he looked up.

"It strengthens your will, your focus...your power."

"Strengthens my power?" The guilty twinge of excitement was back. "How much? Is that legal?"

Lupin nodded. "Yes, it is. It doesn’t strengthen your power directly, merely your ability to channel it. It’s all about strength of will, and it only amplifies what is already there - the abilities you already have. It helps with your focus."

"Right," he replied. A long silence ensued as Harry tried to file everything he had just heard into his memory. At last he said, "Is there anything else?"

"Three things," Sirius said, speaking up for the first time since Lupin had launched into the impromptu potions lesson. "First, here."

Sirius’ shoulder shifted as though he were reaching for something, and then he was tossing something out of the fire. Out of sheer reflex, Harry reached up and caught it, and looked down at the heavy object in his hand. He immediately felt his blood run cold and his chest seize up with sudden dread. It was a heavy dagger, sheathed in dragonhide, about a foot long. Eight inches of it was blade. Harry held it by the hilt and slipped the sheath off, testing the edge of the blade on his finger. He barely pressed the side of his finger against the knife, and blood immediately sprang up around the shiny metal.

He looked at Sirius. "What’s this for?" he asked hoarsely.

"Whatever. You never know."

Harry nodded weakly, replacing the sheath and setting the dagger uncertainly next to him on the floor. Blotting his bleeding finger on his robes, he asked, "What else?"

"You’ll need to charm all of your robes," Sirius said. "Add pockets...enchant them so nothing can fall out...so that only your hand can remove anything...carry these things on you at all times."

By this point, Harry was unaffected by his grim tone. "And last?"

Lupin took a deep breath. "Something that could be the most useful of all. It should make all of these other things completely unnecessary - just extra insurance in case this should fail, for whatever reason."

Harry’s heart was racing. "What?" he asked anxiously.

"Portkeys."

Harry’s stomach lurched at the sound of the word. His mouth went suddenly very dry as his mind flashed back to the feeling of the jerk in his navel, the vision of himself gripping Cedric’s arm and seeing the Triwizard Cup fly into his hand...

"Harry," Sirius said, "it makes the most sense. It got you away the last time."

Harry nodded, biting his tongue in an effort to stimulate some saliva. "Yeah, it makes sense," he said, in what he hoped was a steady voice.

"There are three different kinds of Portkeys, Harry," Lupin said. "The first kind transports the holder at a specific, preset time."

"That’s how we got to the Quidditch World Cup," Harry said, remembering himself and the Weasleys holding onto the old boot...Cedric had been there too...

"Okay. The second..." Lupin hesitated, "...transports the first person to touch it."

Harry’s head was pounding. "Yeah, I’ve got plenty of experience with that kind," he said, not looking up.

"The third is the kind you will be using."

‘The kind you will be using,’ Harry thought. ‘Not the kind you will have...the kind you will be using.’

"Like the other two, it is also set to a specific destination. And it can work for anyone, but only by incantation."

"By incantation?" Harry repeated.

"Yes. You hold the portkey in your hand and say ‘transportio’."

"So it can work at any time?"

"That’s right."

"So do you have these Portkeys, too?" Harry asked, looking at Sirius.

"No. You have to make them yourself," he replied.

"What?" Harry gasped, suddenly feeling very panicky. "Sirius, I don’t think I can. Making Portkeys is highly advanced magic. It’s complicated. Mr. Weasley once told me that it can go terribly wrong - like when people screw up apparition - parts of you can end up in two places -"

"Harry, you can do it," he said steadily.

Harry just stared at him. "Well, I guess Hermione could help me-"

"No, Harry," Sirius said sharply.

"What? Why not?"

"Portkeys are highly regulated by the Ministry," Lupin said. "If anyone there knew what you were doing - making one - you could be in serious trouble. That’s why we can’t do it for you. It could lead the Ministry to Sirius’ whereabouts. Dumbledore can’t do it either. All Fudge needs is one little excuse and he’ll have Dumbledore thrown out of Hogwarts for good. And if your friends help you...well, Hermione could find herself in a whole spot of trouble."

Harry felt a sharp pain in his mouth and realized that he was biting the inside of his cheek. He took a deep breath. "So how do you think I am going to get away with it?"

"The Ministry is alerted to suspicious activity when certain charms are spoken, or certain sequences of words, certain ingredients mixed, that sort of thing. But they would never think a fifth-year-student would be making a portkey. It just wouldn’t occur to them. Your charms and activities in making these Portkeys probably won’t even alert them. But on the off chance that they do...well, your name means something at the ministry, Harry. But Miss Granger’s does not. I’m sure that we could get you out of trouble by convincing them that you were doing it for your own protection. But I’m not so sure we could get anyone out of trouble who was knowingly helping you."

"So I’m completely on my own," Harry said.

Lupin glanced at Sirius, and they both nodded. "Yes," they said grimly.

"Here," Sirius said, and tossed something else out of the fire. It was a book. ‘The Theory and Process of Enchanted Transportation Devices.’ "And this." Sirius tossed a third object. Harry caught a roll of parchment in his hands. "The ingredients and instructions for the potions."

"Um, about these Portkeys," Harry said, setting the objects next to him on the floor, "We keep talking about them in the plural sense. How many are we talking?"

"Well, ideally, you would need only one - to bring you to Hogwarts," Lupin said.

After a moment, Harry prompted him. "But?"

"We have no idea what Voldemort will try," Sirius said soberly. "It may end up that Hogwarts...is the place you are trying to get away from."

Harry shuddered.

"You’ve faced Voldemort in some form twice from within the walls of the castle, Harry," Sirius pointed out, sensing Harry’s discomfort. "You just never know. That’s all we’re saying."

"So how many others should I have?"

"At least one," Lupin said. He shifted uncomfortably. "Charm it to take you to St. Mungo’s Hospital. Have some Floo powder on you. If you get to St. Mungo’s, you can use it to get wherever you want."

They all three fell silent for a minute.

"What if I have trouble making them?" Harry asked quietly. "Can I at least ask you two or Dumbledore for advice?"

"Yes," Lupin said. "But I think you will be fine. The important thing is to take it one step at a time. Don’t rush. Just be careful, and you can do it."

Harry nodded. "Okay...so is that it?"

"Yes," Sirius said. "But Harry, you cannot tell anyone about the specific steps you are taking. Everyone who needs to know will know. You can’t even tell Ron and Hermione."

"Why not?" Harry asked, his heart leaping into his throat. He felt sure he couldn’t tackle all of this without their support.

"Because it’s just too dangerous, Harry," Lupin said. "You shouldn’t voice anything about what you are doing."

"Do you think there are spies here?" he asked, and then something else dawned on him. "Do you think I can’t even trust my own friends?"

"Of course not," Lupin replied sincerely. "It’s just that...well, in times like these, the fewer people who know things, the better. If they don’t need to know, don’t tell them. And they don’t need to know." He paused, then added, "You never know when a little knowledge can put someone in danger."

Harry was too tired now to work out all the implications of what Lupin meant, but he knew enough about their pasts to take their word for it. "All right," he said.

"Harry," said Sirius, "if you need their support, tell them you need their support. They’re your best friends. They shouldn’t feel the need to ask why."

Harry nodded, and couldn’t hold back a yawn. "All right," he said again. "Thanks."

Sirius’ expression was pained. "Harry, I’m sorry," he said dejectedly. "I wish there was more we could do."

Harry tried to smile. "It’s okay. This has helped a lot. At least now I have a plan."

"All right...Well, be careful. And keep us informed," Sirius said firmly.

"Yeah, you too…Goodnight, then."

They both said goodnight, and with a pop they were gone. Harry didn’t move for a long while. He just sat, staring at the flames, rolling everything over in his mind. He had a lot of work ahead of him, and he had to do it all alone. He felt very much like he had during the Triwizard tournament - unprepared, not sure of what might lie ahead, and alone - all alone when it came down to it. After a while, he picked the dagger up off of the carpet and turned it over in his hands. Then he took it by the handle and slipped off the red dragonhide sheath. (‘Chinese Fireball?,’ he wondered.) The blade flashed eerily orange and red as the flickering firelight danced along its shiny edge. He tried to imagine himself using it - plunging it into someone’s flesh, what the resistance would feel like, if he would have the courage to push beyond it -

"Harry?"

Harry glanced over his shoulder and saw Ron approaching from the direction of the portrait hole. He stopped now that he was within hearing distance.

"I’m sorry," he said, "I don’t want to interrupt, but it’s been an hour - I just wanted to check -"

"They’re gone," Harry said.

"Oh." Ron stayed where he was.

"It’s okay," Harry said and motioned him into the room. Then he realized he was still holding the dagger, and he quickly sheathed it and concealed it, the book, and the roll of parchment in his robes as Ron approached.

"How did it go?" Ron asked, taking a seat on the arm of the chair nearest to Harry.

"All right," Harry said, staring into the fire.

"Did they have any helpful advice?"

Harry chuckled dryly. "Yeah, you could say that."

There was a pause. "Can you tell me about it?"

"No."

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Then Ron motioned toward the stairs and said, "I should go tell Hermione she can go to bed. I can come back if you want, or I can go upstairs -"

"I’m coming," Harry said with a yawn, realizing that he’d been up for almost 24 hours. He pointed his wand at the flames as he stood up, charming them down to embers.

They crossed the room in silence and neared the archway beyond which stood the staircases to the dorms. And they both stopped dead in their tracks.

"Hmmph," Ron said, "Some watchdog."

Hermione was sitting sideways on the first of the three steps that led to the archway. Her upper half was resting on the landing, head on her arms, and she was sound asleep.

"It’s okay," Harry said quietly. "She’s blocking the steps. No one would’ve gotten past her."

Neither of them moved for a moment.

"Well, are we going to wake her up?" Ron asked at last.

"Yeah...yeah," Harry took a few steps forward and shook her lower leg a bit. "Hermione?"

"Hmmm, what?" she mumbled, and she blinked her eyes open. "Oh, gosh, did I fall asleep?" she asked, lifting her head and squinting in the dim torchlight. "I’m sorry, Harry."

"It’s okay, you’re fine," he replied. "You were still blocking the steps. It’s late, come on." Harry and Ron each took one of her arms and helped her up. She wobbled, half-awake, and they didn’t let go until she was safely on the landing.

"Did it go alright?" she asked hoarsely, brushing her hair out of her eyes.

"Yeah. I’m sorry it took so long. Go on to bed."

"Mmm-hmm. See you in the morning," she muttered as she headed for the girls’ staircase.

"Goodnight. Thanks." With that, Harry started up the boys’ stairs. He was on the fifth step before he heard Ron start up after him.

* * * * *

Harry was distracted during classes again the next day. This time, it wasn’t because he was tired, but because he couldn’t stop thinking about all of the things he had to do.

"Today we are going to do something a little different than usual," Professor Matlock was saying. Harry shook his head a little, as if to clear away the fog of thoughts that was obstructing his concentration. "I thought you all deserved a bit of a break after the classes we’ve been having lately." Everyone groaned in agreement. Their last class had been particularly frustrating. Everyone seemed to be having trouble mastering the complicated curse-reversal charm they had been learning. Every time someone had to try it again, another student had to volunteer to have their own curses deflected back onto themselves. It had not been an enjoyable lesson. "This should be fun. Put your wands away."

The room filled with the sounds of students shuffling in their robes and bags, and Professor Matlock raised her voice over the din. "How many of you have ever performed magic without a wand?"

Not one hand lifted into the air. ‘Of course not,’ Harry thought. ‘It’s impossible.’ Then, slowly and timidly, Neville Longbottom raised his hand.

"I’m sorry, Professor, but...do you mean something like...falling out of a window and…bouncing when you hit the ground?"

"Yes, Mr. Longbottom, that is a perfect example!" She smiled suspiciously. "Did that happen to you?"

"Yes," he admitted, blushing, and everyone laughed good-naturedly.

‘Oh,’ Harry thought, ‘Well, if that’s what she means...’ Harry raised his hand.

"Mr. Potter?"

"One time my aunt cut my hair and I hated it. The next morning when I woke up, it had all grown back."

Everyone laughed again.

"Another good example," their professor said. "Both Mr. Longbottom’s and Mr. Potter’s experiences demonstrate the key factor in performing wandless magic. Lack of focus."

Whispers broke out among the students. "Did she say lack of focus?"

"I know that you are not used to being told not to focus your energies, but it is the necessary factor in performing magic without a wand." Professor Matlock settled herself, Indian-style, on her desk. "Now, the level of magic that you can achieve without a wand is very small. And it is only achieved when our minds are clear enough to allow our magical powers to flow unobstructed. Our conscious minds are too full of thoughts and worries and memories to ever be properly clear. That’s why we need wands - to channel our powers and pull them through all of that mess. But our subconscious minds are free of most of those obstacles. It is only when our subconscious mind takes over that magic can happen independent of our intentions. So maybe instead of lack of focus, I should have said lack of intention. Our conscious minds are full of intention at every moment - we can’t eliminate it. Mr. Longbottom. I daresay that when you fell out of that window, you were not thinking that you would bounce, or even hoping that you would."

"No," he said, shaking his head.

"And Mr. Potter, you were sleeping when your hair grew back. Obviously, you were not consciously willing it to grow back."

"Right," Harry agreed.

"It is only when you do not intend for magic to happen, and yet when you need it to, or sincerely wish for it to, like when you are scared or angry, that magic can be achieved without a wand."

Now the whispers that were circulating the room were excited and electrified.

Harry could think of lots of examples, now, of times that he had achieved magic without his wand. They had all been times when he hadn’t intended to perform magic, but he had internally wished for something to happen. The time he had grown his hair back, the time he had been running away from Dudley and had ended up on the school roof, and then there was that minor incident when he blew up his Aunt Marge...

"So today, I thought we would have some fun trying to perform some wandless magic. Now, everyone stand up." They did, and Professor Matlock cleared all of the desks away with a flick of her wand. She stood up and moved back around her desk, reaching underneath. "Now lie down," she said, pulling out a large sack. She reached into the sack and began removing plastic bottles of water, setting them on the desk. The students eyed their professor warily, and exchanged glances. She looked up. "Well, go on, lie down."

Harry glanced at Hermione and Ron. They all shrugged and laid down on the hard floor. Harry stretched out on his back and pillowed his head with his hands.

"Now close your eyes."

Some people were snickering, but Harry wasn’t about to complain. They had never been told to lie down and close their eyes during class before. He closed his eyes.

"Now, clear your minds. Concentrate on nothing but the sound of my voice...and imagine the scene that I am about to describe to you. Picture it as clearly as you can."

She paused for a moment and Harry tried to clear his mind. It wasn’t easy, not today.

"Think of someone that you care about. A person that you love and couldn’t live without. A person that you would do anything to protect. Picture that person’s face vividly in your head."

A vivid image of Ron and Hermione popped into Harry’s mind. ‘But she said one person,’ he thought, ‘I can’t choose between them...geez, it’s just an exercise...Sirius...yes, Sirius, that’s good.’

When Professor Matlock spoke again, it was in a very slow and soothing voice. "Now imagine that you are with that person in this classroom. It is just the two of you. It’s chilly outside, but the fire is going strong in here, and you’re sitting on either side of it, enjoying some lovely conversation. You are talking for a long time, and you feel very relaxed and at ease in the company of this person. You notice that the fire is dying down, and your companion rises and steps in front of the fire. Your loved one points their wand at the flames and says ‘Incendio’ and the flames shoot up - but they are too high and the sleeve of your loved one’s robe goes up in flames. You grab for your wand, but you can’t find it. Your loved one is shouting, and the flames are spreading. Now their entire robe is engulfed...Yes!...Yes!...Wonderful!...Okay...open your eyes."

Harry opened his eyes and sat up. Several students were clutching bottles of water in their hands, their mouths hanging open. Harry was empty-handed. He supposed he was too preoccupied to properly clear his mind. Hermione was grumbling next to him.

"I was thinking of my mum," she said in an irritated voice. "But she’s not magic - I couldn’t picture her with a wand and a robe."

Harry smiled, amused. Clearly Hermione was angry that she hadn’t been the most successful student in this particular exercise. Harry’s gaze fell past Hermione to Ron, who was sweating and gripping a bottle of water in his shaking hand.

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed. "You did it! You made the water come to you!"

"Yeah," he nodded, looking surprised at his own success. "Yeah." He blushed and looked down. "I was thinking of my mum too," he said, clearly embarrassed.

Hermione and Harry exchanged a smile.

"Uh, who were you thinking of, Harry?" Ron asked, obviously trying to change the subject, as he unscrewed the lid of his bottle and took a swig of water.

"Sirius," he said, "But I couldn’t stop thinking...couldn’t clear my mind."

"Wonderful job, everyone," Professor Matlock said, beaming. "I really didn’t expect anyone to do it, but four of you made it work. That’s terrific."

Everyone was chattering excitedly when they left the room after class, and the buzzing only died down once the Gryffindors reached the stairs to the dungeons. They had Potions with the Slytherins next.

Professor Snape was as unpleasant as ever this year, if not more so. As much as Harry disliked him as a person, he had to wonder how Snape was handling the stress of Voldemort’s return. Harry often thought about the moment at the cemetery when Voldemort had spoken of three Death Eaters who weren’t there - one who was his most faithful servant, one who was too cowardly to return, and one whom he feared had left his service forever. After Harry had learned the truth about Barty Crouch, Jr. and Igor Karkaroff, Harry knew that the one whom Voldemort feared had left him forever was Severus Snape. Harry also remembered Voldemort saying that he would be killed. Snape had to know that his life was at risk, and, knowing that, it couldn’t be easy for him to try to return to Voldemort’s circle as a spy for the other side. So whenever Professor Snape was being particularly nasty, Harry tried to remind himself that they were on the same side now.

Today they were working in pairs on a memory-sharpening potion, and Snape had assigned the pairs. Harry was working with Gregory Goyle at one table, Ron with Millicent Bulstrode at another, and Hermione was stuck with Draco Malfoy at a third. The good mood that Harry had temporarily been in after Matlock’s class was now long gone. He was angrily preparing all of his and Goyle’s ingredients himself, because Goyle was too incompetent to even tell harkissweed from spanglewood root, and had mixed them up. He had chopped the one that was supposed to be ground, and instead of taking points from Slytherin for his mistake, Snape had taken 5 points from Gryffindor because Harry hadn’t caught Goyle’s error.

"Worthless mudblood! Will you watch what you’re doing?"

Harry jerked his head up to see what Malfoy was ranting at Hermione about.

"Hey!" shouted Ron, rising from his chair. "Watch your mouth."

"Do we have a problem, gentlemen?" came Snape’s greasy voice. He was across the room leaning over Lavender Brown and Pansy Parkinson’s cauldron.

"No, professor, not at all," Malfoy said silkily, and Snape turned his attention back to the cauldron and his irritated ramblings at Lavender.

Ron sat back down, grumbling, and Malfoy rudely waved his hand at Hermione, brushing her back from the table. "You’ve just messed up my piles," he snapped, scooping his own harkissweed and spanglewood root back into perfectly rounded heaps.

"I did not," Hermione shot back. "I didn’t touch them."

"Yes you did," he hissed. "You leaned over and that hideous necklace of yours knocked into them. Take it off," he said impatiently.

"I will not," Hermione said, indignant. "I never take it off."

"You never take it off?" Malfoy echoed in a cruel and mocking voice.

"That’s right," she replied sharply. "It has sentimental value. Not that that’s anything I’d expect you to understand."

"Hmmmph," Ron declared.

Malfoy stared at her with a long, considering glare. "Professor?" he called, maintaining his icy gaze.

"Mr. Malfoy?" Snape replied, striding over.

"I believe that Miss Granger is in flagrant violation of Hogwarts rules and regulations," Malfoy said coolly, eyes steady on Hermione’s.

"How is that, Mr. Malfoy?" Snape said, interested.

"I believe there is a rule that no ornamental objects of a non-educational nature may be displayed on the outside of a student’s robes. And I do not believe that this monstrosity qualifies as an educational adornment." Malfoy reached out a bony hand to touch the garnet, and Hermione slapped it away harshly.

"Miss Granger," Snape drawled, "I do believe that Mr. Malfoy is correct." Malfoy smiled. "You will conceal that article at once, or face certain detention. As it is, fifteen points will be taken from Gryffindor for your blatant disrespect of rules." Hermione shifted her own cold glare from Malfoy to Snape as she reached up and dropped the charm into the neck of her robes.

"All better," she said icily.

Harry sucked in a breath. Snape eyed Hermione steadily for a long moment, but she didn’t move a muscle. Finally, he turned and strode away and Hermione turned her attention back to her work.

Harry exhaled, and glanced at Ron. He wore a mixed expression of pride and dejection, as he too turned his attention back to the assignment.

They all spent the rest of the period working in relative silence. At the end of class Harry waited until everyone else had left before approaching Snape’s desk.

"Professor?" he asked.

Snape looked up from his papers and eyed Harry suspiciously. "What?"

"I need to ask you for these ingredients," he said, holding out a piece of parchment.

Snape hesitated, then snatched the list out of Harry’s hand.

"Hmmm," was his reply as he scanned the list. Then he looked up at Harry.

"I don’t know what you’re up to, Potter," he said in a quiet and cold voice, and he didn’t continue for a long moment. "But I have been asked to give you this." He reached into a drawer in his desk and pulled out a key on a ring. He held it out grudgingly and Harry took it. "That opens the door to an empty classroom on the fourth floor." He paused again. "It is the fifth door on the right in the corridor leading from the south spiral staircase. You have been given permission to use that room...for whatever purposes you need. I will see to it that the cupboard is stocked with these items."

"Thank you," Harry said.

"You’re welcome," Professor Snape drawled painfully, as though the words burned holes in his tongue, and he returned to his papers.

Harry didn’t move, just stood gazing at the top of his professor’s slick black head.

"We’re on the same side, Professor," he finally said.

Snape’s head snapped up. His eyes penetrated Harry’s in a long stare, and for a moment, Harry was afraid of what he might say. But in the end, he just scowled and dropped his gaze back to his work. "Go away, Potter," he said scathingly. "I have work to do."

Harry stared at him a few moments longer, and then turned, key in hand, and silently walked out of the room.