Harry Potter and the Elements of Valor

Chapter One: Re-Potting Petunia

The final scene of Harry Potter and the Dangerous Choice

...Two days later, Harry stood in the dappled sunlight of the large beech trees within the high garden walls of his parent's home in Godric's Hollow. He stood at the gate waiting. Fred and George were lounging in the grass nearby, discussing advertising tactics for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. A pleasant breeze wafted through a bed of flowers as bees hummed, flitting about. Out in the lane there was a loud pop followed by the appearance of a violently purple triple-decker bus. Harry stepped out in to the lane and watched as the bus ground to a sudden halt next to him. The door opened and Harry heard Stan Shunpike's voice, "Come along now... that's it Miss... there you go now." Aunt Petunia appeared at the top of the bus steps, her hat was askew and her coat was hanging crookedly from her shoulders. She wobbled on her high heels as she descended to the ground. Stan hoisted a suitcase out on to the ground, shaking his head in apparent disgust behind her. She fumbled in her bag and pressed a shilling into his hand dismissively. He tipped his hat and turned the coin over in his hand in amazement, as he climbed back aboard. As soon as he had cleared the steps, the bus streaked forward and disappeared with a pop.

Aunt Petunia gasped, looking out in the direction that the bus had gone. Then she rounded on Harry like an angry wolverine. "I consented to come here, out of the pure goodness of my heart, but not to be nearly killed riding a...a....whatever that thing was!" she looked wildly around, "and where are we?" she screamed. "Don't tell me we have to walk from here...it looks like we are in the middle of no where..." Harry ignored her tirade and handed her a small piece of parchment.

"Read this," he said calmly.

Aunt Petunia pursed her lips and scowled as though the last thing she intended to do was comply with such a request. However, as Harry didn't move, she bent her head over the parchment and then looked up. Her mouth dropped open and Harry knew she was seeing his stone garden wall and the house beyond it materialize in front of her. He took the paper from her hand, hefted her suitcase and led the way through the gate.

Chapter One:

Petunia Dursley was most certainly angry but also frightened and she was prepared to cover her fear by yelling at Harry. Therefore, as he led the way up the garden path toward the lovely cottage in Godric's Hollow that was his parent's house, now his house, she launched into a torrent of angry rebukes. Her face was very red, probably owing to her general state of resentment at having been dragged from her immaculate home, her husband and son, to somewhere that Harry was sure she would view as God-forsaken. It was a moment before she realized that Fred and George Weasley were walking just behind her.

"Mrs. Dursley," said Fred brightly, "how lovely to see you again."

"Smashing!" said George. "So happy you could make it."

"Can we take your things in, then?" asked Fred.

George took the bag that Harry was carrying and with a courtly bow, he and Fred headed for the cottage where a room had been readied for Aunt Petunia's stay.

"A bit peeved, isn't she?" asked Fred keeping up the running commentary. Aunt Petunia looked in his direction with a scowl.

"Why Fred, how insensitive of you. Of course she's upset," said George matter-of-factly. "Here she is, forced to stay in this lovely home for a month with nothing to do but lie about and let a house elf do the work. I'd complain too if I were her."

"Perhaps it's not the living arrangements. Perhaps it's us, brother," said Fred. "Perhaps she doesn't like us."

"No, it's definitely Harry she doesn't like. He's a real hooligan you know," George replied. Petunia pretended to ignore the twins, but glowered at Harry. He could tell it was going to be a rough four weeks, if this was how it was starting.

Once they had crossed the threshold, Harry turned right into the parlor, and then through to a sunny room at the back of the house. George had deposited her case on the bed. "This will be your room, Aunt Petunia," Harry began.

His aunt sniffed disapprovingly at the twins and then turned on Harry, before he could continue. "Let's get the ground rules straight right off..." she blustered.

Harry had determined not to allow her to dictate how life at Godric's Hollow would carry on. "This is my parents' old house, it's my house. Aunt Petunia, I know you don't want to be here. I'm going to do what I can to make your stay comfortable. Dumbledore insisted on this arrangement to give me the blood protection of my family. I know you don't really care about that, but I can promise you that this is the last time you'll have to deal with me. Once you leave here in August, I won't ever bother you again." Petunia huffed.

"There is a house elf named Dobby here. He will do your laundry, make your bed, and fix all the meals. If you call him, he will appear next to you. Fred and George Weasley will be staying here. They're making sure that we are not attacked. You'll meet Conner MacNessa later. He is my tutor. He's also guarding us. Please be courteous to these people. They are my friends."

"If you need anything, we will try to get it for you. We all eat together in the evening at six. You can eat with us if you like or whenever you want. Dobby has said he will get you your meals when and where you want them."

"There is a wall surrounding the entire property. You should stay within the walls. If you were to leave, without our help, you could be captured. You wouldn't like that. You can do anything you like in the gardens," finished Harry.

"Basically I'm a prisoner, then; a prisoner of a bunch of freaks. I told Vernon that perhaps I would be home on the weekends. Dudley was devastated that I was going to be missing part of his summer holiday," said Petunia petulantly.

Harry was sure Dudley wasn't at all concerned whether his mother was at home of not. He sighed, "Dudley has his health and you have to spend a month in this house. You can't leave, or if you do, you do so at your own risk. The death eaters would be breaking down your door if you were at Privet Drive right now."

"Are you suggesting that Dudley and Vernon are in danger?" asked Petunia in shock.

"Actually, you are the only one that Voldemort would want to capture. Trust me, you're safer here, and Uncle Vernon and Dudley are safer because you aren't there."

Aunt Petunia seemed to want to dispute this point but decided against it. She was smart enough to realize this situation was beyond her control or understanding. "So," she asked stiffly, after a moment's silence, "where do I find the bathroom?"

"You have your own, through that door. The rest of us sleep up-stairs."

"Very well," said Petunia, trying to regain the upper hand, "I believe I'd like to be alone so I can rest. Is there a lock on that door?" She pointed to the bedroom door.

Harry suppressed a grin. It was hard to say all the things that made that comment funny, in a house full of wizards. "Fred," he called, "my aunt would like a lock on the door."

"Coming right up, mate!" said Fred brightly. He pulled his wand from his pocket and aimed it at the door from across the parlor. In a flash of light, a huge door lock appeared, like a lock on a prison cell. There was a large key stuck in it with a huge metal ring attached.

"There you are then," said Harry now stifling a laugh.

"I warn you, if I'm disturbed or ...anything goes missing...or anything," said Petunia, looking suspiciously at Fred, George and Harry, "I'll....I'll leave!" she said finally.

George, tutted, "Poor Dudley...well I'm sure he's had a good life." George and Fred turned away shaking their heads, and headed back outside.

Harry gave his aunt a dismal look and closed her door, following Fred and George out into the sun.

Harry and the twins went back to their game of tossing a Quaffle around until Dobby appeared in the lawn with a pop a few minutes later.

"Harry Potter has very bad relatives," he said, his bat-like ears drooping down.

"What is it Dobby?" asked Harry.

"I is going to unpack the misses' trunk, and she is coming into the room from the bath while I is putting things away. She screams and begins throwing things at Dobby." Dobby picked a piece of broken porcelain from the tea cozy he was wearing as a hat. "She is very rude, Harry Potter."

"Just stay away from her Dobby. She just isn't going to understand," said Harry in exasperation.

As the sun began to set that evening, Mac arrived and Aunt Petunia seemed to find him as unacceptable as the rest of them. Mac was much kinder towards her than Harry would have expected, but his aunt seemed determined to hate them all.

It was too bad, really. Godric's Hollow was such a lovely peaceful place. Harry had spent two days exploring his new home before Aunt Petunia's arrival, and that had kept him busy. The house itself was a two-story affair with quaint sloping roofs, window boxes full of flowers and dark green painted shutters. There was a flagstone path from the front gate to the door. A huge side garden was visible from the open kitchen and the dining room, with its mullioned windows. The parlor was comfortable with a wall of bookshelves and winged back chairs. Behind the house was a small vine covered stone building that held garden tools and a workbench. The entire space was surrounded by the high stone wall that cut out the view of the countryside, but Harry didn't mind. It was his house and he thought it was brilliant. Dumbledore had made sure the house was fully furnished and it was cozy and comfortable.

There was a bedroom on the first floor with a bath and small sitting room, that Harry had designated for his aunt Petunia. Dobby had a room off the kitchen with a large dresser in it to store his many socks. The remaining three bedrooms were upstairs. Harry had the one at the top of the stairs. It had a fireplace and handsome old desk in the corner. Fred and George shared a room next to the bath and Mac took the smallest of the bedrooms at the far end. That one had windows overlooking both the front and rear lawns and Mac said he favored it because he could really keep an eye on things.

The most disappointing thing about the house was that it was not the original structure. The attack on his family so many years ago had devastated the cottage, according to Dumbledore. Only the small stone building near the wall had been untouched. The house had been magically restored after the attack, and to cover up it's ownership by Harry, was rented out to muggles for a few years before being closed up. As he had no memory of the original house, Harry couldn't really feel badly that this house was a copy of the one reduced to rubble by Voldemort's failed spell.

Along with Dumbledore, Fred and George had organized a schedule to help confuse the enemy, where one of them would be at the joke shop and one of them would occasionally stay at the Burrow. As twins who were seldom without the other, Dumbledore felt if one was visible people would assume the other was near at hand. Mac would be staying in the house most of the time. In all, Dumbledore explained that he wanted no less than two of them there with Harry at all times.

Fred and George had planned a Welcome to the Hollow party for Harry's first night there. They had given him a complete tour of the house and grounds and organized a fabulous meal. They insisted that Dumbledore stay and he had agreed, with a chuckle and a wink at Harry. The party involved lots of food and a room full of Filibuster's wet-start fireworks. It finished with Fred and George sword fighting with turkey drumsticks.

The house made Harry feel happy. In some strange way, it made him feel closer to his parents. It may have been the buoyant attitude of Fred and George. They were full of tricks and jokes, and Harry found them hilarious. It may have been the chirping birds outside his window in the morning and crickets chirping at night, but after the first two days he was beginning to think the summer would not be so bad, but for not seeing Ginny. Whatever is was, it made Harry feel peaceful and safe.

Now that Aunt Petunia was here, the atmosphere seemed different. He felt nervous in the pit of his stomach. He knew she was going to be discourteous, insulting, and generally unbearable. When dinnertime came, Harry was determined to relax and not to mind whatever his aunt might say or do. Petunia appeared at six in the dining room, with pursed lips and a set jaw. Harry was pretty sure she had only come to the dinner table have a look at the lot of them. Mac, always the gentleman, stood up and went to pull a chair out for her. "Please," he said gesturing to the chair. Aunt Petunia looked askance at Mac's robes, but took a seat, perching on the very edge of it as though ready to flee at any second.

Dobby walked into the room, gave a disgusted look at Aunt Petunia, and then waved his hands. Platters of food filled the table while Petunia gasped and covered her mouth with a lace edged hanky. Harry worried about how Fred, George and Mac would take this, but they ignored her and began to fill their plates, talking about their day. Harry thanked Dobby who scurried away looking pleased.

Mac, seated next to Petunia, began loading her plate with boiled vegetables and chicken. Then he turned to her and said, "Beautiful home isn't it?" She didn't respond as she surveyed her plate. Petunia had lifted her fork and had it poised over her food. She seemed to be deciding whether to take a bite of the magical fare or not. "The food is quite good," said Mac, "and if the elf wanted to poison you, he would need young Harry's permission," he said straight-faced. Fred and George laughed. Petunia rose from her seat and stormed from the room. "Was it something I said?" he asked with a twinkle in his eye.

Harry looked after her and then back at his friends. "I'm sorry she's so difficult. She doesn't like magic."

"Boy, we aren't offended. You shouldn't be either. She is simply a necessary evil right now," said Mac calmly.

The next day Aunt Petunia tried to venture out of her room to go to the garden. She ran into Fred who was reading near the back wall. She seemed to think Fred and George quite dangerous, probably because of the Ton-Tongue Taffy incident. She came back inside very quickly, muttering to Harry as she passed, that the twins were rude unnatural beasts.

To avoid conversation, Petunia often pretended to be reading a magazine as they played wizard chess or exploding snap in the evenings. If she ventured outside, she chose a bench as far from them all as she could manage. She also locked her door at night.

After a week, Aunt Petunia started joining them for meals. Some meals went better than others did. At breakfast on the eighth day after Aunt Petunia arrived, she ran screaming from the table when Fred and George both popped a Licorice Lizard into their mouth to demonstrate their newest sweet to Harry. They immediately sprouted lizard tails and long forked tongues, which they waggled at Harry's aunt.

"Not quite the effect we were hoping for, was it Fred?" asked George.

"No," said Fred, bemused, "We thought it a bit funnier than that. Well, back to the drawing board, as they say." Swinging his tail out of the way, he sat down to his breakfast.

"Dead useful though," said George who had used his long tongue to suck a piece of bacon directly into his mouth from the plate. Mac sprayed pumpkin juice over the whole table at George's comment. Harry nearly fell out of his seat with laughter. He thought how much fun it would have been to grow up sitting around a table like this one.

Aunt Petunia was not a sport about the rubber mackerels that kept appearing in her bed each night. Harry reckoned it was a charm the twins had used. He noticed a pile of them outside his aunt's bedroom window. She must have been tossing them out into the garden each night. Harry decided to speak to the twins, and try to get them to leave her in relative peace.

Harry received and sent several letters during the first two weeks of his exile. It turned out that Hermione and her family had taken a house in the south of France for the summer and had invited Ron to join them. Ron was excited and Hermione was looking forward to showing Ron more of the muggle world. Ron's mum had to purchase him some swim trunks and Ron was skeptical about them. "She bought maroon, of course," Ron had complained.

Ginny was complaining too. Now it seemed she would be all alone the entire summer what with Fred and George guarding Harry, and Ron off with Hermione. She said how much she wished she could be spending time with Harry rather than doing a thorough cleaning of the Burrow with her mum, and making gallons of hot tea for Order meetings, that she wasn't allowed to attend, at Grimmauld Place. Harry grinned as he read her letters.

Mac had begun some serious dueling training with Harry as soon as he had settled in at Godric's Hollow. However, that meant a lot of reading on Harry's part. Mac seemed to feel that the theory of combat was the basis of good dueling strategy, and heaped a load of books on him, then quizzed him about them each day. After nearly two weeks of this, Mac decided it was time for real dueling.

As Petunia fixed him with her usual deadly stare, Mac used his wand to create a large padded area on the front lawn for Harry's training sessions. "We've done what we can do from books, young Harry. This will give us a fine dueling area and we'll see what you are capable of," Mac said. Then he showed Harry several new spells for immobilizing an attacker. Mac enlisted Fred as a victim and Petunia watched, horrified as Harry and Fred disarmed and cursed one another for an hour and a half.

Mac was enjoying this immensely. He kept stopping them; showing them ever more complicated ways of subduing each other. Finally Harry and Fred both groaned as Mac was about to start them on another duel, and he called a break instead. Mac sunk down next to Petunia on the garden bench. Harry and Fred gratefully grabbed the glasses of cold pumpkin juice Dobby offered them. Harry heard Mac talking to his aunt. "Your nephew is quite a young man. Killed two death eaters last month, and they were both seasoned fighters. I couldn't be more proud of him... very proud indeed," said Mac in a satisfied tone. "Give me a couple months and I'll have him ready to take on a whole pack of those slimy devils." He slapped her on the knee and laughed heartily.

Petunia jumped away from him. "You mean to tell me that Harry has killed people? You're training him to kill people? Is that what they teach at that freak school?" her voice rising in alarm.

"It's them or him. He's a target of that scum, and I'm going to make sure he has more than a fighting chance," said Mac in a satisfied manner. Harry wiped his sweaty face with a towel and smiled into it as he did.

"You people are all the same. Keep away from me!" she snapped as she swished back into the house.

In the end, Harry ignored her. It was easier that way. Her opinion of him, his friends, and his world was not important. All that mattered was her physical presence. He would soon be of age in the wizard world and then he wouldn't need her any more. According to Dumbledore, the protection he had been receiving through her all these years would cease.

After two weeks at Godric's Hollow, life had fallen into a pattern. Fred and George came and went. At least one of them spent each night on guard duty near the gate. Mac took the day shift, and spent his time training with Harry.

In the afternoons, Dumbledore would come to work with Harry on his Elemental spells. The first time he had come to work with Harry, he had taken Mac with them to the garden. "Conner, I know your feelings about staying out of our fight, but as you are here and a part of Harry's guard, there are certain things that you will need to know. The main thing I think you should be aware of is Harry's abilities with the Elementum Enchantments. Harry can do wandless magic using earth, air, fire and water."

Conner sat quietly for a moment, then spoke, "I'm not surprised," he said. "One day last term, young Potter asked me a question about the elemental spells. Then I thought I saw him light a candle without his wand. I didn't question him at the time." He turned toward Harry. "You know boy, what a powerful gift this is. It is magic at its purist and deepest. Most wizards would give anything to wield the power that you will be able to wield someday. Still, it is said to be a difficult road to control and channel the elements to your whims."

Hearing Mac describe it made Harry feel very inept and not nearly awed enough by the power Mac thought he possessed.

"I am telling you this, Conner, because in addition to your lessons with Harry, I will be coming most days to work with him on these spells," explained Dumbledore.

Conner raised an eyebrow. "Albus, the boy will be drained from our dueling lessons. Then you are going to come along and lay him out flat trying to show him how to...to turn a man to ice with some blasted water spell. How much can the boy tolerate?"

Dumbledore chuckled a bit. "Harry's particular spell seems to be air, Conner." Mac's face took on a momentary look of realization and he glanced quickly at Harry's scar. Dumbledore's voice sharpened, "Harry could be attacked at any time. That is the reality of the situation. His ability to save himself is an imperative. If the training proves too intense, we shall back down."

Harry was of the opinion that he'd best take all the training he could get from Mac and Dumbledore, so he spoke up. "I'll try not to complain and I'll do my best to stand up to it. I'd rather work hard at it now. There's not much else I can do here after all." Both men smiled tired and knowing smiles at him.

As Harry practiced and expanded the things he could do with the ancient magic of the elements, he found that his ability with the three lesser elements was improving in variety and control. Almost every day he found new things he could do. The air spell, now practiced out of doors, was becoming stronger and also more difficult to control. It left Harry, fighting to focus its power, and very drained with each attempt.

Dumbledore was patient but Harry felt he was not progressing as fast as he should. Dumbledore wanted him to contain the storm that he produced, keep it smaller and more concentrated. Unfortunately, when Harry conjured the storm, it seemed to take control of him and not the other way round. As he got better, the storm got bigger, but it was still wildly outside of his control. He ended up on the ground and in need of a rest after each new attempt.

As the days past, Harry asked Dumbledore several times for information about Snape. It made him uneasy not knowing where the potions master was, and his rage at Snape's betrayal in the matter of the kidnapping the previous month was like a raw wound. Dumbledore, however, refused to tell him anything. Fred and George disliked Snape too, and seemed to have no information as to his whereabouts. Harry had daydreamed that if he knew where Snape was, he would go and find him, and finish their duel.

On a starry night evening about two weeks after his aunt had arrived, Harry heard the roar of an engine that seemed to be coming from over head. It was as if a small airplane was passing over the house. Harry bolted for the door and ran out into the front garden. It was George flying Harry's motorbike to Godric's Hollow. As he landed, he jumped off, grinning broadly at Harry. "Got your bike from Hagrid," said George. Harry dearly wanted a go on it, but the twins were taking their role of guarding Harry quite seriously, and refused to allow it. They parked the bike in the stone out building and told Harry he was free to look at it, ride in muggle style around the grounds, but under no circumstances was he to fly it. "It's not all that good anyway," said George unconvincingly, as they rolled the bike into the stone building.

"George, I've already had it up in the air, and it's incredible," replied Harry.

"Alright, it is," said George, smiling wistfully, "but you still can't fly it. Dumbledore's orders mate."

That night was calm and warm, and possibly to make up for not letting Harry ride the motorbike, Fred and George took Harry by the arms and escorted him out of the house at around ten and into the large side garden. They had constructed a bonfire there. Logs of various sizes as well as twigs and garden debris formed a sort of cone shape on a patch of cleared earth. Fred and George had placed stones all around it, and now invited Harry to touch it off. "A bonfire?" he asked, "Brilliant." These days any diversion was a welcome one. Harry started to extract his wand from his pocket.

"No Harry," said Fred, "use that fire spell of yours." Harry obliged and summoned fire. "He's amazing, don't you think George?" said Fred.

"He's absolutely spiffing," said George. "Why, I'd marry him if he wasn't so ugly."

Harry pounded George in the arm, and Fred piled on the two of them, knocking them all to the ground. They wrestled around for a few minutes and then lay panting on the grass, looking up at the stars.

"Any news in the Prophet?" asked Harry, sitting up after a bit. He only got to see the Daily Prophet if the twins brought it to the house. He guessed that they purposely kept him from seeing anything disturbing by simply forgetting it for a day or two. Harry had rather enjoyed the lack of angst from not knowing what was happening just now. Godric's Hollow felt like an oasis in a world of turmoil and he was almost enjoying it, although guiltily.

"Nothing really, just the usual. Ministry in an uproar, Bagman clueless, the price of pickled bat livers too high....the usual," said Fred. The night was quiet and pleasant as they sat staring into the flames. Then Fred looked around. "Harry," he asked leaning in, "ever have fire whiskey, mate?"

"No," said Harry cautiously.

"George and I think it's high time you tried the stuff, and we thought, what better time than now."

"I couldn't have said it better, bro," said George, producing three glasses. Harry turned and saw Fred set a bottle of Ogden's Old Fire Whiskey on the ground between them.

"Now Harry, as a neophyte drinker, allow me to offer you some tips," said Fred as he unwrapped and then uncorked the bottle. "There are three rules for drinking fire whiskey." Fred held up the bottle. "Never drink alone, that's one."

"Never drink less, or more than your mates," said George, holding out the glasses for Fred to pour.

George passed Harry a glass. A golden brown liquid swirled in the bottom of the tumbler. He held it up to the firelight. "Well, what's the third rule," Harry asked, tipping the glass to his lips. He swallowed a mouthful of the liquid, which immediately burned his throat so badly he sprayed it out at the fire, coughing.

"Brace yourself...that's the third rule," laughed Fred, patting Harry on the back. Harry snorted with laughter and George poured more into his glass. The fire whiskey did its work pretty quickly.

Soon everything that anyone said, struck Harry as terribly funny. After several rude toasts made by the twins, Harry turned serious, "Thanks both of you really for coming to stay here this school term...I mean summer. It's sort of like...it's like... having real brothers."

Fred re-filled Harry's glass. "Well, Harry, we feel like you are our brother. You saved us from years of hard work to get the joke shop going when you gave us that gold from the Tri-Wizard Tournament."

"Ya," relied George, "and we can tell Ginny has her sights on you, so we figure you'll be around for a long, long time." George hiccupped abruptly. Fred and Harry both laughed.

Then Harry's fire-whiskey-slowed brain caught up. "What?" he asked, turning red.

"Dad told mum what he saw in the Pensieve, in Dumbledore's office. We were listening in," said George.

"Yes," said Fred, "we do that a lot."

"Mum thought it was 'so darling', if you can imagine," George said, breaking into laughter

Harry felt as though his head was packed with wool, "So, you two know about Ginny and me?"

"Are you dim mate?" laughed Fred, "that's what we're saying. Quick, George, get his glass. The fire whiskey is making him stupid." George grabbed for Harry's glass, and Harry stumbled to his feet, laughing. The three of them chased each other around the fire; they made wolf calls to the moon and finally, took turns trying to climb the stone wall. When they tired from the attempt, Fred helped Harry into the house. Aunt Petunia poked her head out of her room when they came into the house. "Dirty drunks!" she sputtered and slammed her door.

George put a finger to his lips and shushed them loudly. "We should be quiet or we'll wake the dead," he said giggling. At the top of the stairs Harry worked his way into his room, using the wall to steady himself then flopped limply onto his bed. "Night Harry," George slurred. Harry waved a hand at them without raising his head. Then he knew no more.

Harry was gliding through darkness. At first, he could only hear. A muffled voice was shrieking, "No!...No!...I won't tell you!" Then the voice was screaming; horrible, painful screams. The dark room started to come into focus. Harry was walking slowly into a large dimly lit room from where the screams were coming. He was calm and relaxed. Hooded figures were bowing to him on all sides. He raised a hand to them. Long white fingers dismissed the hooded figures from the room. The room was cold and dank. On the floor in the corner was a form huddled on a blanket.

A tall hooded wizard stood with a raised wand over the figure. "Master," it said, "I think we are making some progress, although I have not recovered the information you seek, as yet. I would like to try my special old spell, with your permission." The speaker turned and Harry knew it was Lucius Malfoy.

Harry felt himself nod, "Lucius, my friend, just remember that it is important that our guest is alive in the end, and able to tell what has happened. That part is critical."

Malfoy bowed slightly, "There is much I can do, my lord, without bringing on death." He laughed derisively and then beckoned to another hooded figure near the wall and said, "That bucket of water... revive our guest."

A high-pitched laugh filled the space as the water was tossed unceremoniously over the lifeless body on the floor. Harry's scar exploded in pain.

He was rolling on the floor when he opened his eyes, he was soaked with sweat and his scar, which had not bothered him now for nearly a year, felt as though it were being stabbed with a white-hot poker. Harry felt foggy and slow. He tried to recall what he had to do to keep Voldemort out of his head, for that was what the dream had been. He had been in Voldemort's head again. Harry exhaled and tried to concentrate. In a few moments, he had the pain and the vision under control.

Harry half crawled, half walked to the bathroom, and retched into the sink. Then he made his way back to his room.

The next morning his head pounded and he could not possibly look at the breakfast Dobby laid out in the sunny breakfast room. He spent his morning lying on the sofa with his eyes closed. Fred and George were much too cheery and annoying. Harry did not mention the dream. In the morning light, Harry could not be sure it was a real vision or a nightmare brought on by too much fire whiskey.

Aunt Petunia was again scandalized. It was becoming a regular occurrence.