Harry Potter and the Serpent's Eye

Harry Potter and the Serpent's Eye

Chapter 6 -

Harry found himself face-to-face with none other than Ginny.

"Ginny," Harry said, sighing. He had actually been ready to pull out his wand - he was feeling very jumpy that night.

"Ron and Hermione are really worried, Harry," Ginny said slowly. "They're convinced you're having some kind of breakdown - or something."

Harry actually laughed. The day had been so up-and-down. He'd got the shock of his life - and not a good shock - and he just laughed. It felt good, and he ignored the worried look Ginny was watching him with. She was actually looking at him as though he had gone mad.

"Umm, Harry - are you okay?" Ginny asked, hesitantly. Harry stopped laughing and straightened up.

"No," he answered shortly, with a careless shrug. Then on impulse, he leaned forward and kissed Ginny on the cheek, making her raise her eyebrows in surprise and then turn beet red. "Thanks, Gin, I needed to laugh," Harry smiled sadly, and then left up to his dorm, leaving a very concerned Ginny behind him. The sadness and pain in his eyes...Ginny's breath had caught in her chest at the sight of it.

Harry was glad all his dorm mates were deep sleepers. He changed quickly and got in to bed, though he seriously doubted he would sleep.

As he lay there, looking at the canopy, the full weight of what he had discovered fell on him. With his face buried in his pillow, Harry Potter (for the first time he could remember) cried himself to sleep.

*~*~*

When Ron woke up the next morning he groggily went to the bathroom, and then got changed, vaguely noticing that Harry's four-poster bed's curtains were still closed, before heading downstairs to try to find Hermione.

When he reached the common room, he immediately scanned the room for his girlfriend. It sounded so nice to be able to say that, he mused as he wandered over to the table she was sitting at. He saw Ginny sitting opposite Hermione, and whatever his little sister was saying, it was making Hermione wear one of her most concerned and thoughtful expressions.

"Something up?" he asked, making Ginny jump and Hermione turn her worried eyes to him.

"Did you see Harry last night, Ron?" Hermione asked him as he sat down. Ron frowned a little casting his mind back. He really wasn't much of a morning person.

"Uh, yes, I did actually," he said, remembering their brief conversation. "Just before I went to bed. I asked him where he had been, he told me he'd been in the owlery. Then I asked what it was that had been bothering him, and he told me that he couldn't - that he had to try to deal with it on his own..." he trailed off, thinking.

Ginny was looking fidgety. "But - but what time was that Ron?"

"Err - would have been about," Ron concentrated, thinking of the time he had left to the dorm to sit in his bed waiting for Harry to come back, and adding the time he'd waited on to that, "- about eleven thirty, maybe a little bit later."

Hermione frowned in a thoughtful way that only she could achieve. Ginny sat up straighter, an intent look in her eyes.

"But when I saw him sitting in front of the fireplace it was almost half past midnight! He obviously didn't stay in the dormitory."

"What are you on about?" Ron asked with a bewildered look. Hermione told Ron all Ginny had told her regarding the very odd meeting between Harry and the youngest Weasley.

Ron chewed on his lip. The way Ginny described it - well, it was as though Harry was toeing the line of insanity! He found it hard to believe. In fact, he wished Ginny hadn't exaggerated it, saying they thought he was having some kind of breakdown...ridiculous.

Still, Ron didn't like the look on Hermione's face. It was certainly very worried - it was also a little nervous, perhaps even bordering on frightened.

"Look, I'll go and see him, and we'll sort this whole thing out, alright?" Ron said, standing. Ginny bit her lip and wished him good luck (which made him give her a funny look), and Hermione just nodded, fiddling with some textbooks.

So Ron went back up the staircase to the dorm and peeked in. All the other beds had long been empty. Other then Harry, he'd been the last to wake up.

He reached the bed and pulled aside the curtain. And he froze. Harry didn't look too good. He lay on his side, half of his face hidden in the pillows, but his hair looked flat, not how it usually stood up of its own accord, and the areas around his eyes looked red. As Ron took in the wet streaks down his visible cheek, he frowned, troubled. If he didn't know any better...he'd say that Harry Potter had cried himself to sleep last night.

Feeling a bit like he was in over his head, he left the dorm and grabbed the girls, pulling them up to the boy's dorm.

"No! Ron - we're not allowed..." Hermione objected, but Ron shushed her and pushed her, along with Ginny, in to the dorm (where they had no choice but to be quiet, for fear they would wake Harry up).

Hermione took in their sleeping friend's appearance in an instant, and covered her mouth with a hand, looking rather upset. Ron absentmindedly hugged her to his side, rubbing her shoulder in a reassuring gesture.

Ginny, however, had knelt down by the bed, her arms resting on the edge of the bed, inches away from where Harry lie.

"Even in his sleep he looks miserable," she muttered, pushing a strand of Harry's black unruly hair away from his face.

"I - I just don't understand," Hermione stuttered, keeping her voice quiet. "What could do this? What could change him so much - virtually overnight?"

Ginny shook her head silently. Ron shrugged helplessly, not even wanting to take a guess. If he knew Harry, and he did, then it would have to be something rather drastic to make him this way.

The three seemed to have reached a silent agreement, and all left the room without another word.

Once they got down to the common room again (which was empty as it was breakfast time), Hermione suddenly turned business-like.

"Okay, we want to know what's wrong with him," she began briskly, pacing as she spoke, "but whatever it is must be -" she struggled to look for an appropriate word, "- well - it must be a big deal, whatever it is. If it weren't, he'd tell Ron and me at least. It wouldn't be so visibly wearing on him either. So, maybe confronting him isn't the best idea."

Ron nodded; it made sense. Hermione always made sense. It was something he loved about her. Ginny also nodded briefly, showing she understood and agreed.

"So what we have to do, is work out how to find out what the matter is without getting him to tell us," Hermione said bluntly.

"Oh, easy," Ron said sarcastically, with a brief roll of his eyes. Hermione gave him a look. Ron was about to make another unwise remark, when something he and Harry had said the previous night came back to him. "I warned him last night that if he didn't tell us I could just let you lose with your awesome brain power," he said to Hermione, seeing her blush slightly at the flattery. "He said that we could try to find out, but it would be hard..." Ron concentrated, trying to remember anything else. "No, he didn't give me any clues at all. I wouldn't know where to start figuring this out," he sighed, slipping in to one of the armchairs.

Ginny looked pensive. "When did you first notice something was wrong?" she asked the other two, gazing in to the fire.

"That would be when we found him by the lake..." Ron put in.

"He was perfectly fine when he'd been at the pitch before with you then? You didn't notice anything amiss with him while you were flying the broom he bought you?" Hermione pressed, determined to find the point at which Harry discovered whatever made him react this way.

"Uh, no he seemed fine - though he did leave in a bit of a hurry...He said he really wanted to go to the library..." Ron looked up as his sentence trailed off. Hermione had sat up a little straighter.

"And the next time we saw him he looked awful!" Hermione concluded. "Whatever happened in the library was what did it!"

At a later time, Ron would always look back and see how simple the answer was. The library, what Harry had been researching the very day he and Hermione started going out, the question about myths and legends by the lake. But, he reasoned, both their minds had *first* been full of their new relationship, *then* had never paid all that much attention to Harry's little research quest, and *lastly* they had been too worried about Harry by the lake to put much thought in to his odd question.

Hermione said they'd need to put more thought in to this later, but that they ought to act as normally as possible and not let on what they were doing in the meantime.

And so they all went down for a late breakfast.

*~*~*

When Harry finally dragged himself painfully out of bed, it was only to jump at the awful sight of his reflection in the mirror. For a moment he had been sure it was someone else. Oh well, he groggily got changed and then looked at the clock. Ten thirty! He was going to be very late for class!

He rushed about, his sleepy mind still not caught up with the previous day's events. He grabbed his bag, throwing a few books in it, and then ran down to the common room.

When he reached the bottom of the staircase, out of breath, he looked around stunned, letting his bag fall next to his feet on the floor.

What was everyone doing in here? They would be just as late for class too if they didn't hurry up.

But when he saw Ron and Hermione stand and gaze at him with slightly confused, slightly worried looks, his shoulders slumped and he remembered that it was Sunday.

He rubbed his eyes tiredly as his friends drew near.

"It isn't a school day today, is it," he said, sounding weary and not needing an answer to the question really.

"Er - no," Ron confirmed, anyway.

Harry slapped a hand over his face and shook his head, annoyed with himself. "Ugh, well, I'll go and change out of these school robes and in to some ordinary clothes then," he muttered morosely, and went back upstairs, leaving Ron and Hermione to share a look and go back to their seats by the fire.

Harry was just pulling a comfy blue jumper over his head, when he suddenly realised why everything felt a little odd that morning. It was all a bit odd and unreal because of what had happened in the library with that book!

He sank on to his bed, staring out of the window blankly. He then gathered his thoughts in to a rough order. He had almost told Sirius about it, but he knew he couldn't do that now. He couldn't tell anyone. Not a soul.

They'd make a fuss, and they'd keep a good eye on him too. And Harry wouldn't have that. Sure, he would research and look for another possible way, but he had very little hope of finding anything. Voldemort had said he'd been trying to find a way around it. And he hadn't succeeded.

Still, there was no point in being defeatist. If there was a way, he'd find it. And if there wasn't...he shook his head, clearing his thoughts, he wouldn't think of that right now.

He tried to act as natural as possible as he went back down to the common room. He took Dean and Seamus' taunts about thinking it was a school day admirably, and then headed over to the fire to his best friends as fast as he could.

He sat down gratefully, and realised Ron and Hermione were playing a game of wizard's chess.

"Who's winning?" he asked conversationally. Ron and Hermione both glanced up briefly.

"I am," Ron said, after a sort pause. "Hermione's playing terribly." Hermione swatted him on the arm, and then proceeded to capture Ron's Queen with a Knight. Ron's face fell. "I didn't see that," he muttered. Hermione giggled, and Harry smiled, glad that things seemed so normal. He thought he could probably stand anything as long as his friends always stayed the same.

"So, maybe ickle Ronnikins isn't winning anymore?" Harry asked innocently. Ron frowned deeply.

"Oh shut up," he muttered moodily. It wasn't often Ron started losing at chess and it was obvious he didn't want to start making it a more regular thing now.

Harry spent that day lazily sitting around the fire, though he noticed Ginny giving him some very odd looks at certain times. He did try to work out why. Then he turned his mind back to the previous night, but he couldn't recall much of it. He would have been rather messed up at the time though.

Late that evening, long after dinner, Hermione finally managed to rope Harry and Ron in to some studying.

The boys had to complete some Divination homework for the next morning.

Harry didn't enjoy making up his death predictions all that much that night. He was leaving it mostly to Ron to come up with the ideas.

"Let's see, I have all six done," Ron said, putting his quill down, "but you've only got five, Harry. You need one more."

Harry shrugged uselessly. He really didn't have any ideas at that moment. Ron frowned in thought.

"Have you got one for being drowned?" Harry nodded. "Ah, how about...I know! How about being stabbed to death and -" but Ron cut off when Harry jumped out of his seat.

"No! I am *not* writing that, Ron!" Harry said fiercely. Ron and Hermione exchanged shocked glances. Harry never yelled. And Harry himself knew this behaviour was not like him. And he knew that there was no way Ron or Hermione would understand why he took such an objection to the particular suggestion.

He sighed, calming down, and ran a hand through his hair as he sat again, gazing at the unfinished work dully.

Ron was still looking taken back. "Um - well, okay, then - don't use it. Try getting strangled or something," he said quietly.

Harry wrote that out, and then set his own quill down ignoring the questioning looks Ron and Hermione were both giving him.

Shortly after that Harry went up to bed and was sure to drink some of the dreamless sleep potion before retiring.

It was a remarkable thing, he mused. The dreamless sleep potion worked very well. Harry had wondered if it would at first. He'd managed to fight certain potions in the previous year, including a very nasty poison, and had doubted whether the sleep potion would actually have any effect. But it was a very strong one, and did work. Harry was very grateful for it, and fell asleep easily that Sunday night.

*~*~*

Voldemort walked around the inside of the circle of cloaked Death Eaters. There were no spaces in the ring.

"I had planned to simply replace those of you who had made blunders of your tasks, and got caught in the process..." the Dark Lord began icily, sending a shiver around the shadowy figures. "But no - with the help of a very clever supporter of mine based in Azkaban I have brought those of you who were caught not long ago back in to our midst."

Voldemort stopped half way around the circle.

"Are you not glad to be with us, you four?" he hissed. "It was a most ingenious plot which brought you here, was it not?"

The four figures murmured their 'yes's and 'thank you, My Lord's.

"Malfoy, Wormtail, Nott and Avery - I hope you shall all try harder in the future...or you shall be very sorry indeed," Voldemort said, sending chills up all the Death Eater's spines.

All four Death Eaters started to nod fervently, speaking their affirmative words quietly.

"Silence, you try my patience," Voldemort swept away from them to the other side of the circle. "Severus," he hissed. "What news have you for me?"

"Not very much, My Lord," Snape admitted. "Dumbledore fears the boy will turn away from the light side, but he has not told me anything in detail."

"Ahh," Voldemort gave a short chuckle. "Well, well, well. Dumbledore will not need to worry about that much longer. There will be no Harry Potter to turn either way when I have my way." And he laughed; high piercing, insane laughter. The Death Eaters laughed too, feeling the need to follow their Lord's example.

*~*~*

Harry jolted awake, gasping with the pain from his scar, and reeling from the laughter still echoing around his head.

He groaned when he took his hand away from his head, seeing it red with blood. Trying to avoid getting the sheets stained, he hurried to the bathrooms. He piled tissues over the cut, and turned on the taps, washing his hands clean.

"'Arry?" a voice asked through a yawn. "Is that you?" Harry hid the tissues and pulled his fringe down over his forehead.

"Erm - yeah, it's me," he called just a moment before Ron came in, bleary-eyed.

"What you doing? S'everything okay?" he asked, yawning again.

"No, no, everything's fine, Ron, go back to sleep," Harry said hurriedly. Ron blinked and squinted at him for a moment.

"Hmm, okay," he shrugged, believing Harry in his sleepy daze. "Oh, by the way, you've got a line of red ink down your face," he yawned, stumbling out of the bathroom back towards his bed.

Harry turned back to the sink and saw a single line of blood down the left side of his nose in the mirror. He wiped it away, almost smiling when he thought of how thankfully fuzzy Ron's mind was so early.

As he disposed of the tissues and cleared away the blood, Harry went over all he could remember of the dream. With a grim expression he remembered the four Death Eaters. He thought he'd seen Wormtail in a dream only a day or so ago, but he had just figured it was a different Death Eater he didn't recognise.

But no, Wormtail was out. So were Lucius Malfoy, Avery and Nott. What did Voldemort mean when he'd spoken about an ingenious plot that had enabled them to escape?

Shaking his head, Harry went back to bed. He could get another few hours of sleep before he had to get up. His last thoughts were of his disappointment regarding the fact that he had obviously become immune to the dreamless sleep potion. He would miss the deep sleeps it'd given him.