The Paradigm Of Uncertainty

HARRY POTTER AND THE PARADIGM OF UNCERTAINTY

Chapter 2: Free Delivery

"Dr. Granger?" Out of the air came the voice of Hermione's secretary.

"Yes, Stella?" she replied to the wall.

"Mr. Finch-Fletchley is here to see you."

"Send him in."

A few seconds later her roommate entered, a small brown paper bag in his hand and a smile on his face. "Free delivery," he said, sitting down at her desk. He began withdrawing food from the bag and setting it on her desk. A pitcher of iced tea. A bunch of grapes. A large platter of meticulously arranged cheese slices. A silver soup toureen from which wafted the scent of George's tomato dill soup, her favorite.

Hermione smiled, bemused, as he pulled dishes and silverware from the bag. "What's all this?"

Justin crumpled up the bag. "You're always whingeing about never having time for a bite. Problem solved!"

She grabbed a bowl and the ladle. "Oh, I could kiss you right now."

"No thanks, not my team." He popped a few grapes in his mouth. "You were awful quiet at breakfast."

Hermione shrugged, the delectable scent of the garlic-laced soup wafting up to her nostrils. "Who can get a word in edgewise when Cho's home?"

Justin chuckled. "I thought I caught you looking daggers at her. What's the problem?"

"No problem."

"Oh, come now. As designated house mediator it is my responsibility to listen to and help to resolve any difficulties between roommates."

Hermione thought for a moment, then put down her soup bowl and regarded Justin soberly over her desk. "Do you know what Harry does for a living?"

He looked surprised at what appeared to be an abrupt change of subject. "I stopped wondering years ago. I mean, crikey...the most employable wizard in the hemisphere and all he'll say is that he does 'work.' Bit vague, isn't it?"

"Cho seems to know all the details."

His brow furrowed. "That so?"

"She couldn't *wait* to tell me all about it last night."

"And what did she say?"

Hermione considered for a moment whether or not she should tell...but only a moment. Either it was true, in which case his secret was already out, or it was a lie and it didn't matter anyway. "She says he's a spy."

Justin seemed unsurprised. "Well, naturally. What else could he be? It would have to be that, wouldn't it? What other career would be sufficient for the world-famous Potter? Teacher? Spell writer? Drone at the Ministry?" A trace of bitterness crept into his voice for a few seconds. "And it would surely explain a few things."

"That's just what I thought!" she said. "The strange hours, the injuries, his secrecy..."

"So you believe her?"

"Well...I suppose so. In the absence of any information to the contrary."

"That's not what's bothering you."

"No. If it's such a huge secret that he's kept it from us for years, why tell *her?*"

Justin hmphed. "I find it highly unlikely he'd tell her and not you."

"You think she's making it up?"

"I didn't say that. I just..." He cleared his throat, uncomfortable. "I think Cho has certain objectives in mind where our Harry is concerned, and I think it would serve her ends to make you think that he's confiding in her," he finished, choosing his words with as much diplomacy as he could.

She frowned. "Sounds so...Machiavellian. I can't believe she'd be so catty."

"Sure you can. You've known her...how long? Twelve years? Cho has many wonderful qualities and many features to recommend her, but a sense of fair play in interpersonal relations isn't exactly one of them. Don't you remember when she set her cap for that Hufflepuff prefect...what the devil was his name?"

Hermione smiled. "Kirby Storping-Goyter."

"That's the bloke. Well, he'd just started dating Syren Sagyramius and it looked like Cho would end up an also-ran..."

"She put a Stultifying Draught in Siren's tooth powder," Hermione remembered, smiling. Poor Syren had been able to talk of nothing but masonry engineering and the history of cauldron metallurgy for days. Near the end, it had seemed as if she were in danger of boring *herself* to death.

"After what was probably the longest date of his life, Kirby dumped Syren and Cho got her shot. I could go on and on."

"This isn't the same."

"I'm not saying it is. I'm saying I wouldn't put it past her to make something up. Even if what she said is true, she could have found out one of a thousand ways that don't involve him telling her. Harry guards his secrets jealously. If he wanted anyone to know, he would have told *you.* You're his best friend, Hermione...don't let anyone, Cho for instance, convince you otherwise."

**********

As two of his roommates discussed his career over a brown-bag lunch several kilometres away, Harry Potter sat in his office reading a scroll from an elf who worked surveillance for him. His lips twisted as he read on...seems he got nothing but bad news these days. A face appeared in his open doorway. "You get that note from Sabian?"

Harry looked up at the visitor over the top rims of his glasses. "What note?"

Remus Lupin strolled in and picked through the papers on Harry's desk until he found a small, tightly rolled scroll. "This note. Read it."

He unrolled it and read, his brow furrowing. He looked up at Remus, eyes wide. "Is this right? This can't be right."

"It's right."

Harry tossed his glasses to the desktop and pinched the bridge of his nose as if he had the beginnings of a headache...which he did. "I thought the tear was contained."

"We all thought so, Harry."

"Well, I can't worry about that right now. If it gets worse I'll send in a team." He looked up at Lupin, who seemed to be holding back a grin. "What? You look like a man with a secret."

"Oh, I'm just enjoying the moment."

Harry, totally confused, sighed. "I'm not biting."

"Guess what I have behind my back."

"Umm...is it bigger than a breadbox? Is it known for its work in the theater?"

"No and no."

"Is it going to make me want to kill you?"

"Probably." He pulled out a magazine and held it up, the grin surfacing. Harry saw that it was "Witch Weekly"...and his eyes widened in horror as he saw that plastered on the cover was his own face.

"No," he said flatly. "Please tell me that's a joke." The photographic Harry was looking furtively around as if hoping for an escape.

"It's the results of the Most Charming Smile contest! I'll give you three guesses who won and the first two don't count."

Harry jumped up and grabbed the magazine out of Lupin's hands, flushing to the roots of his hair as he realized Lupin wasn't kidding. "I don't believe this," he muttered.

"Lockhart's going to be furious," Lupin said, his grin widening. "You've broken his streak."

"I am *never* going to hear the end of this," Harry said, tossing the magazine onto his desk, rubbing his eyes. "My housemates are going to have a field day."

"I'm only surprised it's taken this long," Lupin said. "Dashing world-famous hero that you are..."

"Do you like your *job,* Remus?" Harry snapped, but his eyes were smiling. Lupin put up his hands in supplication.

"Okay, okay...no need to pull rank. I'm just saying..." He was interrupted by Hedwig, who zoomed urgently past his head and landed on Harry's shoulder, pushing the note she carried into his hand. Harry took it, his joking mood evaporating...he knew the message must be important by the way Hedwig was acting. He read the note, all the color falling out of his face as he did so.

"What?" Lupin asked, crowding closer.

"It's Leland. They found him."

Lupin's mouth fell open in shock. "Is he all right? What..."

Harry cut him off, shaking his head. "It just says they've got him over in Confinement." That wasn't a good sign. Confinement was where you were kept if you were unlucky enough to fall victim to a magical attack that couldn't be reversed. It was a horrifying place. Wizards who kept clawing out their own eyes only to have them grow back again. Witches unable to do anything but sit in a corner and scream until their throats ruptured. Sad, terrifying wrecks of people whose defenses against dark magic had not been equal to the assaults they had endured, and who could now do nothing but wait and hope that the wizard researchers there could find a new charm or potion to help them. The thought of Leland in that place was sobering to say the least...especially to Harry and Lupin, who knew all too well that it could easily be either of them someday. All it took was meeting one dark wizard who was just a little too clever while you were having an off day and you'd spend the rest of your life in a room at Confinement, convinced that bugs were eating you from the inside out.

Lupin's jaw worked. "Let's go." Harry nodded grimly, tossing the note to his desk. He took Lupin's arm and his eyes narrowed in concentration until he felt the familiar tingle and the room began to dissolve away; they vanished from Harry's office and reappeared in a white and sterile hallway. Lupin stepped aside, trembling. As a metamorphic being whose physical structure was unstable, Apparating was very difficult for him; in fact, he couldn't do it by himself at all, which was why Harry'd had to help him. A severe-looking witch with a brutally short platinum-blond haircut was waiting for them.

"Good afternoon, Chief," she said to Harry, her eyes flicking to Lupin.

"I came as soon as I got your owl. How is he?"

"Not so good." She tossed another, more pointed glance at Lupin.

"Oh, I'm sorry," said Harry, remembering his manners. "This is Remus Lupin, one of my agents. Remus, this is Elektra Stillwagon, she's head of the facility." The two shook hands. "He was working with Leland at the time of his disappearance."

Elektra began to lead them down the hall. "He's down here. We've had to perform a sedative charm, we were afraid that he might hurt himself."

Harry shook his head, his lips pressed together into a tight line. "Where was he found?"

"An American wizard on sabbatical in Canada got an anonymous owl, she followed the directions she received and found him in the middle of the woods tied to a large rock."

Harry stopped in the middle of the hallway. "What?"

"I know," said Elektra, acknowledging the strangeness of the entire situation. They kept walking.

"He was last seen in Nepal," Lupin said, frustrated, running a hand through his shaggy hair. "How in the world did he get to Canada?" They came to a solid white door with a small window set into the upper portion.

Elektra put up a hand. "Now, I should warn you. He's almost unrecognizable. His mind is mostly...well, wherever he's been and whatever he's been through, it's very nearly destroyed him. He might not know who you are. Be prepared." Harry and Lupin exchanged a worried glance as she opened the door.

They stepped into the small room, furnished with some comfortable chairs and pillows. Lying curled on his side in the corner was Leland Stormare, an intelligence wizard like Harry and Lupin...except Leland had been missing for two months. He had gone to re-interview a witness in the case he and Lupin were working on and had never returned. Despite extensive searches and dozens of Homing Charms his location had eluded them...and now here he was, mysteriously returned.

Harry approached him slowly and crouched down to his level. "Leland? Can you hear me?" It hurt his heart to look at him. Leland had been a tall, strapping and robust wizard with with a ruddy complexion and wiry auburn hair who always spoke in a loud, confident voice and had a laugh like great bells chiming. He had always seemed to fill every room he entered...but that jolly wizard bore little resemblance to the shivering heap on the floor before him now. His well-muscled body had wasted to a frail and bony bundle of sticks, his hair was thin, falling out and streaked with gray. Hearing Harry's voice, Leland turned his head slowly up to face him...it was all Harry could do not to recoil. Leland's bright blue eyes were a lifeless gray, and seemed to look through him to some hellish landscape that only he could see.

"Harry?" he croaked. His eyes focused on Harry's face and one hand rose, trembling, to clamp on Harry's forearm.

"It's me, Leland. Remus is here too, see? Do you know where you are?"

"Sorry, Harry. Sorry," Leland sobbed.

"Shh, you don't have to apologize. We're just glad you're back...do you remember what happened?"

"I saw...I saw a forest of thorns...the river ran red with blood..." Harry and Lupin exchanged another worried glance. "Tam Htab...sorry, sorry..."

"He keeps repeating that," Elektra whispered. "He keeps saying he's sorry, and he keeps saying 'tam htab.' Does that mean anything to you?"

Harry shook his head. "No, it doesn't." Leland grasped Harry's other arm and pulled himself to a kneeling position, fixing Harry with a penetrating and haunted stare as if mustering all his concentration.

"Sorry," he said emphatically. Harry nodded, trying to encourage him. Leland began to tremble all over. "It's always winter...tam htab," he managed. Suddenly his eyes rolled back in his head and he pitched forward into Harry's arms. Elektra darted forward, her wand raised, and pulled Leland onto the softly padded floor. Harry backed away, still feeling the ghostly impressions of Leland's bony fingers on his arms. Lupin had turned his back, unable to watch.

"Great divining, Harry," he said hoarsely. "What's been done to him? And by who?"

Harry stood watching as Elektra calmed Leland with a charm. "I don't know, but something tells me we're going to find out soon enough."

**********

When Hermione got home that night, Cho had already gone. Another road trip with the Minotaurs would keep her away for the next four weeks, and Hermione had to admit she wasn't sorry.

Laura was cutting vegetables in the kitchen as she entered. "George is in Kent for the night on a buying trip," she said without preamble. "So I thought I'd whip something up for you, me and Justin."

Hermione glanced at the pots bubbling over behind her and tried to ignore the stench of something burning. "Can't we just owl out for pizza or something?"

Laura pointed her knife at Hermione. "I'm perfectly capable of basic culinary tasks, thank you very much."

"Basic meaning what? Boiling water?"

Before Laura could retort, a covered pot on the stove exploded in a glut of what looked like tomato sauce, its lid flying across the room like a small metal Frisbee. Laura and Hermione both jumped, then ducked to avoid being decapitated. They stood slowly, eyeing the gaudy splashes of red sauce all over the walls and ceiling. Laura matter-of-factly tore off her apron and tossed it to the countertop. "Pizza it is," she said, turning off the rangetop with decisive twists of her wrists, as if she'd meant for her kitchen forays to turn out that way all along.

They went into the hallway to the alcove where Faust lived. When they'd moved in, only Harry had possessed an owl of his own so they'd gone in together to purchase a house owl...except at the moment he wasn't there. Hermione and Laura looked at each other and shrugged. "Must be out with the post," Laura said.

As if on cue, the owl-door in the transom over the main entrance flipped open and Faust flew in, dropping a beakful of letters into the mail tray and lighting on his perch with a happy squawk. Hermione gave him some water and the note for the pizza shop. "You can wait a few minutes to catch your breath if you want," she told him. Faust seemed to sigh and shake out his feathers, then took off again. Laura was going through the mail.

"One for you," she said, handing Hermione a thick and creamy envelope with the Hogwarts seal on the flap. She recognized Minerva's handwriting immediately. "Drats, no letter from my sweetie. Oh well...I'd best clean up that marinara sauce before it hardens." She went back into the kitchen, leaving Hermione to perch on the window seat and read her letter.

"Dear Hermione," it read. "Don't bother about the derivations on that Mogrification Charm, I found the reference I needed. I appreciate your efforts on my behalf, however.

But that's not the only reason I'm writing. There's something I've been debating for several weeks whether I should discuss with you, and I've decided I can't keep it to myself any longer. The fact is that I'm very worried about Harry. I don't know how much he tells you about his life or what he does...I myself am not quite sure what his occupation is, in fact. This does not, however, allay the concerns that have been inspired in me by reports that have reached my ears."

Hermione's brow furrowed and she read on.

"The fact is that I've been hearing news of an alarming nature concerning his activities. For example, just last week a close friend of mine, a Hogwarts classmate, told me that he'd run into Harry in Hong Kong in a very dangerous part of town dominated by dark wizards and dark magic. My friend works for the Department of Defense and was there on an assignment, but he said that Harry was very evasive about his own reasons for being in that part of town. Another report came to me that Harry had been seen in a social setting with two known dark wizards somewhere in New York a few months ago. Hermione, I could fill several pages with similar reports. I might also point out that those who've seen him in such circumstances noticed that his scar was not visible. You and I know that Harry is quite a powerful enough wizard to camouflage his own appearance if he chooses...the fact that he is doing so to consort with dark forces is disturbing to say the least.

I am not suggesting that Harry has turned to the dark arts or has any inclination to do so...though others may not be quite so assured of his integrity as you and I are. What concerns me is that he may be taking a fight that has been over for years and extending it to anyone who practices the dark arts. The history books are rife with tales of those whose quests for vengeance consumed their lives, even after the one who wronged them had been destroyed. It wouldn't be the first time. Voldemort may be gone, but I fear that Harry is continuing that battle on his own.

I don't have to tell you what he means to the magical community, nor do I need to paint you a picture of what it might do to us if we were to lose him now. You're the closest person in the world to him, Hermione. If anyone could shed some light upon this situation it would be you...and if anyone were to dissuade him from any dangerous course of action he might choose, it would be you. I would not ask you to betray any confidences he has shared with you, nor do I require a report from you about his comings and goings. I merely wished to alert you to what I am hearing. You know as well as I how fast rumors spread in the wizarding world. I don't believe anyone would really think that he was turning to the dark forces, but with such puzzling reports flying about who knows what might happen. He is still a hero, a legend even, but that only means that people will pay even more attention to what he does than they might have done if were just another wizard.

I know that Harry's existence is a lonely one. I am grateful that he still has you. I will look forward to seeing you next week at the conference.

Affectionately, Minerva

Hermione slid the letter back into its envelope, thinking. She didn't share Minerva's concern...if Harry was indeed a spy (and she was more convinced with each passing minute that he was) then his associations with dark forces were easily explained. It was his job, after all, and it very nicely accounted for why he might be disguising himself. What did concern her was the fact that his activities didn't seem to be nearly as secret as he thought they were. If he took no action, he could start feeling the repercussions.

Laura came back from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. "I'm starved, I hope that pizza doesn't take very long." She stopped, examining Hermione's face. "What's wrong?"

Hermione smiled. "Nothing. Just..." She trailed off, uncertain how to continue.

"Just what?"

"Just more drama of the Potter variety."

"Ah. No shortage of that, is there?" Laura said, flopping down on the window seat next to her. "I can't figure him out."

"What's to figure?"

"He's so mysterious."

Hermione blinked. "Mysterious? Well, if you say so."

"I do say so...but I don't suppose there's much mystery left for you after fifteen years."

"He is more reserved than he used to be, though he was always a little shy. Ron did most of the talking back in the day." She turned to look out the window, the old sadness prickling at her skin. "I wish you could've known him," she said quietly. Laura leaned forward, keenly interested...neither Hermione nor Harry nor anyone else in the house talked much of the infamous Ron. "You remind me of him in a lot of ways."

"Really?"

Hermione nodded, smiling. "We were like three peas in a pod, and so different. I was serious and studious, Harry was focused and courageous, and Ron was outgoing and sarcastic." She trailed off, realizing she was actually on the verge of talking about Ron...something she avoided, even though at times it swelled inside her until she didn't know if she could hold the words back any more. Laura seemed to sense this.

"Tell me about him. It's okay."

Hermione sighed and drew her legs up, hugging her knees to her chest. "Ron and Harry met on the train on their way to Hogwarts our first year...and good thing for Harry, too. The Weaselys are an old wizarding family and Ron was the sixth kid in his household to attend Hogwarts, so he was an expert. Poor Harry didn't have a clue what was going on."

"He grew up with Muggles, right?"

"Right. His aunt and uncle. Horrid people, the both of them. Like me, he didn't know he was a wizard until he got the letter from Hogwarts inviting him to attend. Anyway, when I first met Ron I thought he was insufferably obnoxious. I spent a good deal of our first year disapproving of the things he and Harry were getting themselves into, and getting *me* into along the way. The idea of breaking the rules was antithetical to me, but to them it was second nature." She smiled, lost in the reminiscences. "A lot of people only knew Ron as Harry's sidekick, but I don't think he really minded. He was used to playing second banana to his brothers and wouldn't have felt comfortable being a ringleader himself...not to mention the simple fact that he looked up to Harry, we all did."

"But it was *Ron* you dated, not Harry."

"I couldnt've dated Harry if I'd wanted to, he was already with Cho by the end of our fourth year. Ron and I spent more and more time together while he was off with her, and I guess one thing led to another." She turned her face away and swiped at her eyes. "After he died, in some ways Harry and I got closer and in other ways we drifted apart. We stuck together because we couldn't help it, but we pushed each other away too, because we knew in the backs of our minds that either one of us could be next...and I knew that *I* couldn't go through that grief again. After we graduated and the whole Voldemort thing was over, it got better. The spectre of death lifted some, and getting away from Hogwarts helped. We love the place, but it was hard to be there when around every corner was another memory of Ron."

"Did you love him?" Laura asked, fascinated by this rare peek inside Hermione's heart.

The pause stretched out longer and longer as Hermione stared unblinkingly out the window. "I don't know," she finally said. "I've never really figured that out."

**********

Harry and Lupin Apparated back to the office, not talking much. Seeing Leland laid so low had done nothing for their optimism and cast a pall of gloom over their moods. It didn't help that as soon as they appeared in the foyer of the Intelligence Division's underground headquarters, they found Argo Pfaffenroth waiting for them. Argo was Harry's boss; she was head of the Intelligence Division, subordinate only to the Chancellor of the International Federation of Wizards...and her presence wasn't a good sign. She didn't usually have much contact with the day-to-day activities under her purview, and if she took an interest in something you were doing it was definitely a sign that you should be paying very close attention.

"Confinement?" she asked. Not one for idle pleasantries was Pfaffenroth.

"Yes. We've seen him." Further comment was unnecessary, Harry knew that Elektra would have given Pfaffenroth a full report. They walked down the corridor towards Harry's office. "Something I can help you with?" Harry said, attempting to keep his tone conversational.

"Now that you mention it, yes. I want to know if and how Leland Stormare's disappearance and recent return fits into the pattern." Her clipped American accent rendered the blunt questions all the more abrupt.

Harry stopped short, his eyebrows furrowing in alarm. "Argo! That's classified!" he exclaimed, glancing at Lupin. Pfaffenroth didn't seem concerned. Lupin looked like he wanted to excuse himself but was just too interested in what was going on to bring himself to do it.

"Answer my question, please."

He sighed. "I'm not sure."

"Don't yank my chain, Chief. You're sure, you just don't want to say it out loud."

"Added mind-reading to your bag of tricks, have you?"

"For the love of Christ, does it fit?"

Harry hesitated. "Yes."

Argo nodded. "As I suspected."

"As we all *feared.*"

"Any progress on possible interpretations?"

"Not since I last checked. They're thinking of nothing else down in Research."

"In that case we have no choice but to..." She would have continued, but Harry heard no more. As sudden as a flash of lightning from a clear blue sky, white-hot pain shot through his forehead. He clapped both hands over his scar and doubled over, crying out in agony.

"Harry!" Lupin said, bending over him. Argo did the same.

"Go the infirmary and get help!" she snapped at a passing wizard, who scurried away as fast as his legs could carry him.

Harry's legs buckled and he sank to his knees, his hands still clutching at his head. His jaws were clamped tightly shut over the screams, but still choked cries of pain escaped his throat. He looked up into Lupin's shocked face...then his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed in a boneless heap on the floor.