The Knights Of Walpurgis

Chapter Twenty-Six: The Whole Dream

Madam Pomfrey arrived with her customary swiftness and began to tend to Draco immediately.

"Poppy, is he--"

She shooed him away.

"He's alive," she said. "But he's hurt."

They made a strange group. Madam Pomfrey led the way to the hospital wing, followed by Draco floating along behind her on a stretcher. Harry wanted to walk beside the stretcher to get a closer look at how badly he'd managed to hurt Malfoy, but Dumbledore kept one hand on his shoulder, and together they brought up the rear.

Harry was grateful that the corridors seemed to be deserted. Normally the corridors would have been busy with students, but it seemed that with exams approaching, they were staying in the common room or library to do revision.

Harry and Dumbledore watched in silence as Madam Pomfrey moved Malfoy to a bed and began her treatment. She peeled away his robes, tutting at the sight of the shoulder that had been on the receiving end of the Slicing Hex. As she pulled the robes away on the other side, Harry felt ill. The shoulder was clearly dislocated, jutting out from his body at an unnatural angle for a body as otherwise relaxed as Draco's was.

Madam Pomfrey continued to scan the rest of Draco's body for injuries. Harry forced himself to watch as she revealed cuts and bruises covering a horrifying amount of his body. Finally, she waved her wand over him and a faint glow began to emanate from him. She pulled a sheet over him and turned to Dumbledore and Harry.

"Well, he is alive, as you can tell. He's been hexed at least twice, possibly more, so there's some magical damage. He's received a blow to the head, which explains the unconsciousness. He's obviously been cut and bruised in numerous places. His shoulder will need resetting, which I shall do in a moment. He has been extremely lucky," she said. Harry's heart soared. "There will be no permanent lasting damage, although he will need to wear a sling to stop him over exerting that arm for a few weeks."

"I will arrange for a voice-quill for his exams," Dumbledore said, calmly. "And Mr. Potter?"

Madam Pomfrey gave Harry a much more cursory inspection.

"Nothing serious, headmaster," she said. "Cuts and bruises."

"But..." Harry said.

"Yes, Harry?"

"My wand exploded!" Harry said, with a twist in his guts. That wand had been part of him since he was eleven.

"Ah," Dumbledore said, drawing Harry and Draco's wands from one pocket. "In fact, it did not. I shall, however, keep hold of it, for now."

"You're taking my wand?" Harry asked, completely bewildered by the turn of events.

"Until I have time to talk things through with you further, Harry, yes. Once Madam Pomfrey releases you from here, please go to the Room of Requirement and stay there until I come for you. As it is Sunday tomorrow, you should not miss any classes."

"Sir..." Harry said, as Dumbledore walked away.

"Yes, Harry?"

"What are you going to do?"

Dumbledore turned, and for an instant he appeared to be very angry indeed.

"I am going to contact Lucius Malfoy, Harry," he said, an unmistakeably cold tone to his voice. "And I am going to attempt to explain to him how it is that his son has come to harm while under my care."

Harry stared at the floor while Madam Pomfrey scanned him for serious injuries. Eventually she sent him on his way with several yards of bandages wrapped around him, and strict instructions to return and have them replaced the following evening. Harry felt that she had rather overdone the bandages -- apart from having a very sore throat where Draco had choked him, he didn't have any injuries that compared to anything he'd received on a Quidditch pitch -- but didn't really feel that he could object.

When Harry opened the door to the Room of Requirement, he found a very small, very bare room with an uncomfortable-looking bed the only feature. He climbed into the bed -- the springs creaked alarmingly, and there was an uncomfortable sag in the mattress -- and was so exhausted that he was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

*

"Good morning, Harry."

Harry opened his eyes, and took his glasses from Dumbledore, who was holding them out to him.

"I would like to discuss the events of last night."

Dumbledore looked serious and remote, although not angry, which Harry had to assume was good.

He recounted the story of his confrontation with Malfoy, how Malfoy had thrown the first hex, how he had offered Malfoy several opportunities to walk away, and how Malfoy had threatened to use the Cruciatus Curse on Harry's friends. When Harry came to describe the explosion, or whatever it was that had knocked them unconscious, Dumbledore, who had been pacing the small room, stopped and watched him intently.

"What do you think happened, Harry?"

Harry had given this some thought.

"Accidental magic," he said.

"Indeed. Do you know why?"

"I... got angry," Harry said. "I wanted to hurt him, and I cast a spell that did hurt him."

"And does this normally happen when you get angry, Harry?"

"I... no," Harry said. "Now I just use Occlumency techniques to shut my anger away. Last year I would have shouted at someone."

"Ah." Dumbledore was standing, and had no place to rest his elbows in order that he could steeple his fingers and peer at Harry over the top of them. Nonetheless, Harry couldn't help but feel that the stare with which Dumbledore was fixing him rather implied the steepled fingers. It was the most intense gaze that Dumbledore possessed, and Harry could no more think of moving then he could turn into a Erumpent.

"Which do you think is better?" Dumbledore asked.

"What?"

"Think about it," Dumbledore said. "Now, Mr. Malfoy is due to arrive soon. I must be ready to meet him. I will see you this evening, Harry."

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"I thought you said that you were contacting Mr. Malfoy last night?"

"I did."

"Was he busy? I would have thought that he would have been here immediately."

"No, Harry, he was not busy," Dumbledore said. "In fact, he berated me for waking him."

"Oh. Sir?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Can I see Mal- Draco?"

"Why?"

"I wanted to apologise. I shouldn't have lost my temper last night."

Dumbledore stared at him for a long moment.

"We shall talk about that later, Harry," he said, before turning and leaving.

*

With no wand, and nothing to do in the Room -- which was unusually reluctant to provide what Harry wanted -- he spent the day sitting quietly and reviewing what had gone on the night before. He rather thought that had been Dumbledore's intention.

It was clear to Harry that he shouldn't have let Malfoy goad him as he had. As irritating as the Slytherin boy was, he was no Voldemort. While he had clearly learnt some new spells since the last time that they had duelled in their second year, he was no match for Harry. Instead, he'd allowed Malfoy to taunt him, and anger him, and that had resulted in Malfoy being in hospital.

Why can't I control my anger recently? Ever since I started doing wordless magic with Marchbanks... I can't shut my anger away if I'm using it to cast spells everyday!

Harry sat and seethed for a long period of time. When the door finally swung open again, he was ready to tell Dumbledore that he needed to stop working with negative emotions. He couldn't risk another incident like the previous night's.

But it wasn't Dumbledore who had entered the room.

"Ginny?"

"Hi Harry," she said, beaming at him as though she'd searched the whole school to find him. "You know, there's all sorts of rumours about what happened between you and Malfoy last night."

"What? People know about it?" Harry asked, shocked.

"Something did happen, then?" Ginny asked. "What?"

"People don't know?" Harry asked, feeling rather bewildered. He reflected for a moment that it was far from the first time that year that Ginny had appeared to know much more than he did.

"Well, there's all the damage in the corridor outside, and neither of you were at breakfast this morning, and he's in the hospital wing, and Lucius Malfoy was here," she said, turning serious. "He wasn't very pleased with you, apparently. Pansy Parkinson is trying to get everyone to believe you're going to be expelled."

"And I suppose everyone believes that, do they?" Harry said, bitterly.

"No," Ginny said, her eyes twinkling although her expression remained serious. "Everyone seems to think that you're going to get an award for special services to the school."

Harry laughed. Ginny grinned.

"Who started that?"

Ginny looked away, unable to quite restrain a smile.

"You?"

"And Ron."

For a moment, Harry was very glad that he'd done what he'd done to Malfoy after he'd threatened his friends. Then his mood darkened again, and his face fell.

"What's wrong?"

"I shouldn't have done it," Harry said.

"Why not? Don't you think he deserved it?"

"Malfoy?" Harry snorted. "He's deserved a good beating since the day I met him. But I still shouldn't have done it."

Ginny snorted. "Don't talk rubbish, Harry."

"I'm not," he said, staring at the floor. "I lost control last night. I could have killed Malfoy."

"But you didn't."

"But I could have done."

"So could I, then," she said, with a snort. "Any time he says something about my family, or my home, or how poor I am. Any time he looks me up and down like he's wondering if I'd fit in his bed."

"I don't mean--"

"What? You don't reckon that I hate him? I do, Harry. His dad tried to kill me, remember?"

"I'm supposed to be better than that," Harry said.

"Better than what? Human?"

"No," Harry said. "But I'm supposed to be able to control my emotions."

"Why should you be any different to anyone else?"

"Because I have to be," Harry said. "To beat Voldemort, I have to shut out all my emotions."

"Really?"

"One moment of anger, or sorrow, or pity... I could lose like that," he said, snapping his fingers. "I have to be in control, all the time."

"Why?"

"Because I have to!"

"But why?"

"Don't you get it?" Harry asked. He scraped his hands back through his hair. "I can't do this anymore! You don't know how it feels. It all comes down to me. I'm the one, right? The only one who can defeat Voldemort! The supposed saviour of the wizarding world! I'm just a kid, for God's sake. I can't do it. I've spent the last year getting beaten all around the Room of Requirement by Marchbanks, I've spent the last year learning Occlumency so that I can control my mind, so that I can shut out my emotions so that I can fight Voldemort. Then just as I start to learn a few tricks that might help me survive for a few moments against him, I let Draco Malfoy get me so angry that I put him in the hospital wing! Snape told me that I can't wear my heart on my sleeve, and I can't! If I can't control myself, what sort of saviour am I? I nearly killed him, Ginny. He didn't do anything -- nothing that he hasn't done every day since I first met him. But I let him get to me. I'm supposed to be better than that, aren't I? How am I supposed to fight Voldemort if that scrawny little bastard can make me forget everything I've learned except for the most powerful--"

Very calmly, Ginny slapped Harry across the face as hard as she could.

"When you've finished panicking, you can listen to me," she said.

Harry had bolted to his feet, and now he stared at her in amazement, his face burning both from the slap and from anger. He took a deep breath, and swallowed down the rage, at least temporarily. Ginny stood as well. She barely came up to Harry's chest, but Harry was vividly reminded of the way in which Molly Weasley could keep her sons in line, no matter how much shorter she was than them.

"Now, maybe I shouldn't be slapping saviours," Ginny said, her tone almost acidic. "Maybe I should just let them rant and rave, and go off the deep end, but I happen to think that that would be pretty boring, don't you?"

Harry scowled.

"And don't look at me like that. For Circe's sake, if you didn't want to hear what I have to say, then why did you talk to me? Or did you think that I'd just listen meekly and let you vent your troubles at me?

Harry scowled deeper. He didn't want to admit that she was right.

"Sorry, Harry, I did that for you once before, but back then you were actually working your way through your problems. Now, I don't want to seem cruel, but you're hardly the first person in the world to feel bad about losing control. You didn't kill Malfoy, and God knows you could've done, if you'd wanted to. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Ron was bloody delighted that you thrashed Malfoy at first -- the only reason he feels bad is because he think that you might get expelled."

Harry sagged, feeling everything go limp as the tension inside him seemed to evaporate.

"Harry, you lost control. You have to stop feeling that that's a bad thing. You let your emotions guide you, which just means that you're human."

"But my emotions..."

"What?"

"I can't control them! The way I feel sometimes, about Sirius, or about Malfoy... I can't control it!"

"Harry, that's normal!" Ginny exploded. "Do you know how many times I..." she stopped, and seemed to be reordering her thoughts. "Look, don't worry about it, Harry. It's normal, trust me."

"What, thinking about hurting someone? Or killing them?"

"Yes! Harry, if you keep all that locked up inside you, one day you'll just explode. Last night you did, a bit, I think. So long as you don't actually do anything too bad, a little daydreaming isn't a bad thing, I promise you."

"But I--"

"But what? But you feel bad about thinking these things? Why? Who are you thinking them about? No, let me guess, the Dursleys, Voldemort, Snape and the Malfoys, right?"

"And Umbridge," Harry said, only slightly surprised that she'd guessed so accurately.

"So that's the family who treated you so horribly for almost all of your life, the psychopath who killed your parents, the teacher who treats you like dirt, the bastard who tried to kill me and destroy my family, his noxious git of a son, and the teacher who tortured you and slandered you all last year, and tried to have you soul-sucked by a Dementor?"

Harry nodded slowly.

"Harry," Ginny said quietly. "You have to accept these emotions. They're normal. Just because you have the power to act on these things, doesn't mean that you will -- I know how that feels. I could have killed... I could have killed so many people, Harry. It would have been easy, letting the basilisk go, letting it kill. Tom wanted it set free much more often, but I had to fight him, Harry. I felt so guilty, so ashamed when people were hurt, and I tried so hard not to let him do it again, but he did. Not as often as he wanted, but I wasn't always strong enough. That guilt helped me, though. It's what kept me strong. Harry, there'll be times when you lose your temper, and you'll feel bad for it, and that's part of how you learn to control it.

"I think you need to learn to channel your emotions a bit better, not just shut them down until they explode. What you're feeling? It's nothing that no-one else hasn't felt, Harry. Shutting down your emotions? You wouldn't be human anymore, Harry. No wonder you exploded -- you probably let everything go all at once, every bad feeling you've had since you started to learn Occlumency again! You can't just shut it all away, every little slight, every wrong word. Think about how angry Hermione got at you earlier this year -- she over-reacted, we all knew it, and I couldn't believe that you didn't put her in her place, but how would she feel if she'd let her anger with you fester? And you wouldn't have realised that you were wrong, either! I suppose that you were bending over backwards, trying not to lose your temper, trying to stay calm. You can't do that all the time, Harry. I can believe that you have to control your emotions, but that's not the same thing at all. The sooner you accept that, the sooner you'll be able to control yourself better."

Ginny sagged, completely spent, and Harry caught her in case she was about to topple to the floor. It seemed perfectly natural to hold her like that, and he guided her to a sofa which had appeared in the Room during the last few minutes, noting in one small part of his mind that her arms had slipped around him as easily as his had slipped around her.

After a few minutes, Ginny let go of him and he released her.

"I should get back," she said. "I don't think that I'm supposed to be here."

"Probably not," Harry said. "Er, why did you come?"

"I thought that you might need to talk," she said, smiling. "You took some finding. I suppose I should have thought to look here."

"Thank you," he said. "I think I did need to talk."

She smiled again, and he walked her to the door. There was a pause, and for a moment Harry felt something between them. He swallowed nervously.

"Er..."

The door opened, and bumped Harry in the arm.

"Harry," Dumbledore said. There was the hint of a smile, hidden in Dumbledore's long beard. "Miss Weasley."

"Er, hello sir," Ginny said. She blushed furiously.

"I understand that the residents of Gryffindor house were ordered to stay in their tower today," he said.

"Yes sir," Ginny said, very subdued. Harry stared at her in surprise.

"Well, I believe that Professor McGonagall will be checking in approximately ten minutes to make sure that everyone is there. Should she report that they are, then clearly her order will have been obeyed."

"Yes sir," Ginny said. "Bye, Harry. Thank you, sir."

"Bye," Harry said, and watched her vanish through the door.

Dumbledore turned to Harry. He looked very serious. "Mr. Malfoy, senior, wishes charges brought against you. Mr. Malfoy, junior, issued many requests, most of them quite unrepeatable."

"Can I see him?"

"May I ask why, Harry?"

"I want to apologise."

Dumbledore fixed Harry with a piercing gaze. Harry recognised it as an Occlumency technique and allowed Harry to enter his mind, and feel how miserable he felt about what had happened between himself and Malfoy.

"Very well," Dumbledore said. "Mr. Malfoy is able to receive visitors. Of course, you are the only other person not locked inside their common room, so if you wish to visit him then you may, and will be undisturbed as well. And after that, I would like you to come up to my office. It appears that a lot has happened while I have been with the Wizengamot, helping to decide on this election issue. I feel that we have much to discuss, don't you?"

*

On his way to the hospital wing Harry almost collided with Luna, who had glided dreamily out of a side corridor.

"Hello Harry," she said.

"Hi Luna," he said. "Shouldn't you be in your common room?"

"I'm going to the hospital wing," she said. "I don't feel well."

"Do you need a hand?"

"No, thank you," she said.

"What's wrong?" he asked, as they walked towards the hospital wing.

"I've been feeling very bad recently," Luna said. "Ever since Blaise started hiding."

Harry stopped short.

"Since he what?"

"Blaise. He has been hiding from me," Luna said, very sadly. "And since then I've been feeling dreadfully ill. I find it hard to sleep through the night, and I keep having this interesting dream which I always wake up from before I get to the end. I think that I should have gone to Madam Pomfrey before now, but I was so busy looking for Blaise that I never got around to it."

"Why do you think that Blaise is hiding?"

"I haven't seen him in several weeks," Luna said, mournfully. "I wish I could find out why he's avoiding me. I thought that things were going quite well between us. Theodore just looks right through me when I try and talk to him."

"Oh, Luna, I'm so sorry," Harry said. "Blaise hasn't been hiding from you."

"He hasn't?"

"No," Harry said. He felt worse than ever. He'd been so wrapped up in his own problems that he hadn't noticed how much Luna was pining for her boyfriend, who was in hiding from a vengeful Voldemort. "He was supposed to become a Death Eater," Harry said quietly, not wanting to be overheard. "But he refused to do it. He's in hiding now, I guess. I'm sure he wants to be with you, but he's probably under the Fidelius Charm somewhere, with no way of getting word to you."

"Oh." Luna took this discovery in her usual implacable manner, and then, in a most un-Luna like move, embraced Harry in a tight hug. Harry gingerly put his arms around her. He felt her hair tickling his nose but felt that it might be rather impolite of him to say anything.

"Thank you," she said, and let him go.

"Er, no problem," he said. He suddenly understood why Ron had had so much trouble preventing Luna kissing him. She had a deceptive turn of speed that made it very difficult to stop her moving in close. "Do you feel better?"

"Oh yes," Luna said. "I don't think that I need to see Madam Pomfrey again."

"Good," Harry said, smiling.

*

"What in blazes do you want, Potter?" Malfoy yelled, as Harry entered the hospital wing. "Have you come to finish the job?"

Madam Pomfrey, standing beside Malfoy's bed while she checked his temperature, rolled her eyes.

"I came to apologise," Harry said, taking a position at the foot of the bed. "I'm not going to hurt you, Malfoy. Even if I wanted to, Professor Dumbledore has my wand."

"Well that's one thing that the stupid old fool has done right, at least," Malfoy said, glaring at Harry as though trying to burn a hole in him by sheer power of hatred alone. "And my father will be making sure that you're punished for what you did to me, as well."

"I know," Harry said. "I'll probably be suspended."

"Suspended? Potter, if you're not expelled than it'll be a travesty," Malfoy snarled. "I want to see you thrown out of this school, Potter. It's just a shame that they won't snap your wand."

Harry glowered for a moment, but held his tongue.

"This," he waved his left hand at his right arm, which was heavily bandaged, especially around the shoulder. "Will be worth every second, if I can watch you leave here in disgrace. It'd be no less than you deserve. And then my father and I shall make sure that you spend your life unable to find a decent job. Father's always been well-connected, I'm sure that even you realise that, Potter. But soon he'll be Deputy Minister of Magic -- no-one in their right mind would employ a worthless dropout like you, not when they know how... disappointed my father would be."

Harry had a brief vision of himself riding Buckbeak, goading the hippogriff to attack Malfoy and use its talons to slice him to shreds. He felt slightly better for it -- even if he knew that it wasn't ever going to happen.

"Potter, wipe that smirk off your face. It's hardly an apology when you're grinning like you're plotting to finish me off, is it?"

Harry let the thought fade away. He didn't feel angry with Malfoy, for all that he was a loathsome specimen of humanity. He did feel rather glad that he didn't have to spend more time with him than absolutely necessary, however. And he was always able to remember Hermione slapping him, or Buckbeak rampaging, or even the sheer look of delight on Ron's face as he described blacking Malfoy's eye in their first year.

"I am sorry, Malfoy. Things shouldn't have gone as far as they did last night."

"Oh, get out of my sight."

Harry looked down at Malfoy's sneering face. It was clear that he wasn't going to make any progress. Shaking his head slightly, he turned and made his way out of the hospital wing.

He had to talk to Dumbledore.

*

"Well done."

Harry had grown rather used to being surprised by Dumbledore, and this time managed to keep a mostly straight face.

"Harry, the conclusion that you have come to often takes years to reach, and some wizards may ponder on it for all of their lives and not realise what they are missing. Miss Weasley is quite correct. There is more to Occlumency then just shutting out your emotions. To truly master the discipline, you must learn to use them as weapons, as you instinctively did against Voldemort last year, as you have learned, after a fashion, to do with Madam Marchbanks. I am sorry that I could not tell you this, but it is something that you had to discover for yourself - you couldn't just be told it. Unless, apparently, it was Mss Weasley doing the telling."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled briefly behind his half-moon spectacles. Harry reached up and touched the side of his face, where Ginny had slapped him. He was much more aware of the red mark she had left than he was of any of the injuries he'd received from his duel with Malfoy.

"Harry, it is one thing to achieve a blank state of mind by shutting your emotions away. It is quite another to do so while mastering those emotions and ordering them neatly. It is the difference between tidying a room by shoving everything away in a cupboard, and tidying the room by displaying everything within it neatly."

"I... don't understand."

"Let me put it another way -- you have said before that when we have practised Occlumency, you see yourself on the battlements of a castle, yes?"

Harry nodded.

"Now, think of your emotions as the population of that castle. When under attack, they can hide where it is safe - but then the castle is much more vulnerable. It cannot repel the attackers. But if the population of the castle takes up arms, they can be archers, or soldiers, knights or even simple squires. Your mind is a highly personal place -- there is nothing there but that which you put there yourself. Personally, when I enter your mind, I see a mountain, with you at the top, and it takes a great deal of effort to scale the mountain, I must say. That mountain exists whenever I enter a person's mind -- it is one of the mountains that border the Hogwarts grounds. For some people, it is easy for me to scale it. For others, it is more difficult.

"Harry, if you can learn the second half of Occlumency, true control of your emotions will make that moat around your castle much deeper. It will give you soldiers on the battlements of the castle, if you will. If you will forgive me my mixing of metaphors, it will make the mountain much, much more difficult to scale."

"You want me to start my lessons with you again?" Harry asked. Dumbledore shook his head.

"No," he said. "You have progressed as far with Occlumency as a teacher such as myself can take you. I am glad that you have made the next step yourself -- had you not realised that you were only halfway towards mastering Occlumency then I would have reluctantly resumed your tuition, but it is something that a student must know in their heart, rather than just be taught. Our progress would have been slow -- whereas with Miss Weasley's refreshing approach to teaching you have come along nicely." Dumbledore smiled broadly as he studied Harry. "This next step is something that only you can achieve, through accepting your emotions completely. This, I suspect, is where your relationship with the Weasley family will come in useful."

"What do you mean?"

"The Weasleys are very emotional people, Harry. They act on those emotions, and they keep acting. While is not always for the best, it is their great strength -- any one of them would be a powerful Legilimens, with the right training, but only Percy and perhaps Professor Weasley appear to have the necessary dedication. You have the dedication, you certainly have the emotions. Perhaps you can learn from them how to meld the two together. It won't happen overnight -- but I think that you have some excellent teachers to learn from."

"How?"

"You will know when you see it," Dumbledore said. "Perhaps not the most useful advice I can give you, but the most honest nonetheless. If I may suggest, however..."

"Yes, sir?"

"Perhaps you might wonder how it was that Miss Weasley was able to resist Tom Riddle so long."

"She said--" Harry stopped himself, aware that he might be betraying Ginny's confidence in talking to Dumbledore.

"Quite right, Harry," he said. "Do not betray any secrets that you do not need to. Think on what I have said -- and what Miss Weasley has said. Now, regarding your punishment for the fight that you had with young Mr. Malfoy..."

*

Harry was ordered to spend his free time outside the hospital wing until Malfoy left, making it effectively a week-long detention. His wand was returned to him, and he could not return to Gryffindor Tower, he had his books brought to him by Dobby. The house-elf didn't seem very bothered that Harry had caused his 'former young master' some fairly serious injuries.

Malfoy was made aware of the arrangement, and expressed his displeasure in no uncertain terms at having Harry armed and at such close quarters. Dumbledore made no comment about whether Malfoy was being punished for his role in the fight, but Harry rather felt that if he were, then Harry's proximity was part of the punishment.

Shortly before midnight, Dobby returned and told Harry that Dumbledore said that it was time for him to go back to Gryffindor Tower for the night. Harry returned to the tower to the not particularly welcome sight of Ron and Hermione kissing in the otherwise empty common room. They were in the middle of the floor, and there was no easy way past them.

"Err..."

They didn't notice. They really did look very busy. Harry began to wonder if he could sneak past them without their noticing. Deciding that Ron was probably less likely to be distracted from what he was doing, Harry decided to try and sneak past behind him, tiptoeing as silently as he could, his books clasped to his chest.

Unfortunately, as Ron had his back to Harry, so Hermione was facing him, and it was she who gasped "Harry!" just as Harry was congratulating himself on sneaking past them.

Harry didn't turn around.

"'Night," he said, as Hermione sputtered incoherently.

"'Night, mate," Ron said. "See you in a bit."

Harry made his way upstairs, put his books away, got changed and had a wash. By the time he climbed into bed, Ron still hadn't arrived in the dormitory. Harry climbed into bed, feeling completely spent from the events of the last day or so. A smile played over his lips as he settled back in his bed and drifted off to sleep.

*

Harry stood atop a tall hill, the highest point as far as the eye could see. A rolling landscape surrounded him in all directions, and a rich, dark, pre-dawn sky spread out above his head from horizon to horizon.

He felt confused, as though someone was speaking just outside his hearing, moving just outside his range of vision. Distantly, he thought, there was the clash of metal on metal, but it was hard to be sure.

He knew where he was, he realised with a jolt. But he didn't know how he had got there, or how he would get back.

He looked around, curious for any hint of what had brought him to the place, but everywhere was empty. Something in the distance caught his eye, and he turned to face it more directly. It existed at the very limit of his vision, and he felt frustrated as it seemingly taunted him. With a deep sigh, he decided to make his way in that direction, and looked about him for a path down the steep hillside.

"You should wait," came a voice from behind him. He looked around and saw a very pretty blonde woman standing there.

"I'm going to look," Harry said. "I can't wait around here."

"We should wait for Salazar. We all work best together," came another voice. Harry turned. A handsome, dark-haired woman with a misty expression on her face was staring out towards the shimmering in the distance. The blonde woman nodded.

"She's right," she said. "Whatever that is, we'll be at our strongest with the four of us here."

"I'm strong enough as it is," Harry said. "He's not coming. You know that. No one has heard from him in nearly a month. For all we know, he's dead."

"Don't say that," the blonde woman said, looking upset at the idea.

"I'm sorry, but it's probably true," Harry said. "We shouldn't lie to ourselves. He's gone, and that's that."

"I don't think that he is," the dark-haired woman said. "The crystal has told me that he will be here today. Things have been difficult, but he wouldn't let us down. I sent my owl to him, telling him of the challenge from the Dark Lord. He could no more refuse that than we could -- for all that he will have to work with us. With you."

Harry turned and looked back across the valley, straining his eyes to make out any sort of detail.

"You should say something to them," the blonde woman said. She laid a hand on his arm and pulled him gently towards the other side of the hill. "They've come here on your word. You should tell them why, Godric."

Harry found himself looking down once more on the massed ranks of the tens of thousands of wizards gathered at the foot of the hill. It was amazing, almost inconceivable, that so many wizards existed in Britain, but here they were. The clash of metal upon metal he'd heard earlier was identified as the sounds of armoured warriors clashing swords together, or against shields. As Harry watched, the sword one man was holding vanished, leaving him holding a wand that he used to cast a fiery lasso at his opponent, yanking away his shield. The other man yielded and the two shook hands.

Harry remembered Hermione saying that wizards were much more common at this time in history, and he was only slightly surprised to see that a number of wizards had apparently become knights of the realm. Harry supposed that this was a time in which wizards and Muggles had mixed freely.

"The message was very clear. A great force awaits us. There'll be hired assassins, wild werewolves, renegade centaurs. All very interesting in theory, but I do not think that I want to fight them if it can be avoided."

"Rowena's right," she said. "Mercenaries and dark creatures... There's no honour in this lot, Godric. Their leader doesn't seem to be here to negotiate with, and we can hardly let them just wander free once they leave that shield. I just wish I knew exactly who'd brought them here. I'd feel much happier if I could talk to someone. I'm not a fighter, Godric."

"It doesn't matter," Harry said. "If it comes to a fight, we'll win."

There was a pause as Harry and Helga turned to look at the dark-haired woman -- Rowena Ravenclaw, Harry realised.

"I agree with you," she said. "It is the likely outcome. We have nearly twice their numbers, if what we have seen is their true force."

"You're right. On numbers alone, we have the advantage," Harry said.

"We should not assume that that automatically means superiority," Rowena cautioned. "While it is true that we have a greater force, they have giants."

Harry nodded. He was aware that a part of him knew how this was going to turn out -- that this battle would be fought, that the Hogwarts founders would emerge victorious, that Slytherin would then leave the school forever -- but his knowledge of the future was hazy. It was as though Gryffindor's mind was rebelling against the future knowledge. He was merely an observer, inside Gryffindor as the thousand year old scene was played out. He would do exactly what Gryffindor had done, because he had no choice in the matter, and because of that, he knew what Gryffindor knew - that Helga Hufflepuff had been his friend since childhood, that Rowena Ravenclaw had been married to one of his great friends, before his untimely death in battle, that Salazar Slytherin, absent though he was, had an intellect as dizzying as his own, and a bravery that exceeded his own, but that it was tempered by self-preservation instincts that had prevented him being wounded in battle as often as Gryffindor had.

All these things Harry knew as he regarded the other founders. He felt the faintest flicker of hope as he turned to Rowena.

"In that case, let's hope that Salazar decides to join us," he said, with a smile.

"I don't abandon my colleagues in their darkest hour."

It was a rich, warm voice that preceded its speaker up the hill by a short distance. Harry felt himself smile as Salazar Slytherin appeared over the cusp of the hill. He strode over to the man, who was tall and powerful looking, with long, blonde hair and a rather pointed nose, and extended his hand.

"Good to see you, Salazar," he said, with some caution.

"Godric," Salazar replied, his tone equally cautious. He shook Harry's hand slowly.

"Can we forget your quarrels? At least for now?" Helga asked, looking from one to the other.

"Of course, Helga," Slytherin said, bowing briefly to the blonde woman.

"Welcome, Salazar," Rowena said, smiling at the blonde man.

"Rowena," Slytherin said fondly. "It's been too long."

"You're the one who walked away," Rowena said. Slytherin flushed hotly for a moment.

"But you have come back," Ravenclaw said, before anyone else could say anything. "And I am pleased."

"Good," Slytherin said, smiling. "What's the problem?"

"The Dark Lord," Harry said, shortly. "He's challenged us to a fight. We've gathered a force," he said, with a wave of his hand to the army at the foot of the hill. Slytherin crossed to that side of the hill and looked down. He paused for a moment, and then nodded.

"A powerful force. You'd hardly need me at all."

"There's safety in numbers. Salazar, I'm--"

Slytherin held up a hand. "Please, Godric."

Harry fell silent.

Slytherin turned around, and peered at the faint shimmering in the distance.

"Is that where they are?"

"Yes. Helga saw them gathering, and then that strange effect. No-one recognises it," Rowena said.

"I do," Slytherin said, quietly.

"What is it?" Helga asked.

"A spell of my own creation," he said. "A mass Apparation sequence, suspended until I had time to come here and ascertain the size of the force you had arranged."

"Salazar..." Harry said, not quite believing what he was hearing.

"Did you think that I'd just forgive?" Slytherin said, rounding on Harry and drawing his sword. With a start, Harry realised that it was almost identical to the sword of Gryffindor, but emeralds rather than rubies were studded around its hilt.

"Salazar..." Rowena had drawn her own sword, a sapphire blade, again identical to that of the others.

"Please don't," Hufflepuff said. Her hand was resting on the pommel of her sword -- yellow gems, Harry noticed -- but she had not yet drawn. "We don't have to do this. It's not too late--"

"Of course it is, you stupid woman!" Slytherin roared, spinning around at an incredible speed, drawing his wand and blasting Hufflepuff at almost point-blank range with a spell that Harry recognised as a Slashing Hex. He watched in horror as Hufflepuff toppled backward, too surprised too cry out, a thin, long red line across her torso. Even before she hit the ground, her yellow robes were marked with a large, red bloodstain.

Spinning again, Slytherin blasted Ravenclaw with a hex that she batted to one side with her sword. Slytherin snarled, and waved his wand again. Ravenclaw's eyes widened as she crumpled to the ground, her body shaking as she whimpered quietly. Harry rather thought that she had been hit with the Cruciatus curse.

"You let me do that," Slytherin said. "Perhaps we are not so unalike after all, Godric."

"Safest for them to be out of the fight, Salazar," Harry said, the point of his sword aimed at Slytherin's throat.

"How chivalrous," Slytherin sneered. "So eager to protect the half-blood and the Mudblood."

Harry shook his head, a great wave of sadness washing over him.

"I hoped the day would never come that I'd have to kill you, Salazar," he said. "But I suppose that I always knew that it would."

"You fool," Slytherin spat. "While you sat inside your ivory tower, I have learnt so much."

"You appear to have learnt nothing," Harry replied.

"I have learnt one thing, at least," Slytherin said. He sheathed his sword in his scabbard, and smiled.

"Do you want to die?" Harry said.

"I will live long after you," Slytherin said, with a twisted smile. "Goodbye, old friend. Avada Kedavra."

Harry brought his sword up to block as Slytherin waved his wand. He saw the all-too-familiar green flash of light erupt from Slytherin's wand even as Gryffindor's mind registered it as a brand new spell. The Killing Curse hit the sword and to Gryffindor's amazement traveled along the blade, tearing up his arm and across his chest. Harry watched in numbed shock as the sword fell from his fingers and he dropped to his knees.

"Pitiful," Salazar said. "Too much time with the mudbloods has spoiled you, Godric."

Harry slumped forward, his right arm hanging limp and useless before him. He stared at it in disbelief, one part of his mind - his - amazed that he'd survived a strike from the Killing Curse. Another part of his mind - Godric's - reeling in surprise at the power of Slytherin's curse. Harry guessed that Gryffindor hadn't heard of the Killing Curse before Slytherin had cast it.

A strong hand seized the back of his collar, and he hung helplessly as Slytherin dragged him bodily across the crest of the hill. He stared in numb shock at the bodies of Helga Hufflepuff and Rowena Ravenclaw, each lying brokenly on the ground. He tried to make himself move - he, Harry, knew that he had three working limbs - but the controlling part of his mind, that which was Godric Gryffindor - was still suffering from the pain and trauma of being hit by the Killing Curse.

Slytherin paused at the edge of the hill, and looked down. The massed ranks of the army stood there. They fell silent as one by one, and then in groups, they looked up, seeing Slytherin standing high above them, with Harry clutched in one hand.

"Wizards and witches of Britain, I am Salazar Slytherin, and I am your new leader."

There was a ragged cheer from those among the crowd who supported Slytherin.

"Allow me to prove my leadership potential," Slytherin hissed. "Portus!"

Harry recognised the spell, which Dumbledore had used to create a Portkey the year before. Here it seemed to activate the remote teleportation spell Slytherin had mentioned. In a circle surrounding the crowd new beings began to appear. Harry watched helplessly, feeling Godric's mounting horror as he recognised giants, trolls, and mercenaries, and people wearing the distinctive blood-red uniforms of the fallen members of the Dark Arts Defence League.

"Attack," Slytherin hissed, almost silently.

It was loud enough.

The new arrivals immediately launched a ferocious assault on the human army, firing spells, swinging weapons or, in the case of the giants, simply swinging huge fists and stamping gigantic feet.

At first the decimation of the ranks was horrendous to watch. The human army was disorganised and easy prey for their well-trained assailants. But slowly, heroically, the humans began to fight back. Four or five wizards concentrated their spells on each giant. Muggle soldiers got in close to the opposing wizards and used the close range to their advantage, hacking and slicing with axes and swords.

Slytherin laughed.

"And now, my Knights of Walpurgis, reveal yourselves!"

There was a pause in the fighting, as almost everyone seemed to look to their neighbour, friend or foe, as though in askance at Slytherin's strange command.

Spread throughout the battle, however, were those to whom the order seemed to make perfect sense. Wizards all, they reached inside their cloaks and pulled out bundles of material, which they tapped with their wands. The cloth unfolded and wrapped itself around its owner. Harry felt sick as he watched the wizards being clothed in black, apart from their heads. Their heads were covered in white, making them appear skull-like. A thousand years had made very little difference to the uniforms of the Death Eaters.

"You have heard my fellow founders speak of unity between the wizarding world," Slytherin said. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to. His was a voice that carried. "I dare say that that is the worst kind of stupidity. Only through blood purity can we continue to dominate as a group. This is Walpurgis Night, my friends. This is the night that wizards are allowed to celebrate our power, as though we are pets or slaves to be controlled, tossed a bone once a year.

"But we have the power. We can take back what is ours, and it begins now. One night? No. All our lives. We have the power, and we will rule. Those of you who are pure-bloods, join us. Join the true Knights of Walpurgis."

Harry watched, still unable to move. One or two wizards among the human army put up their weapons, apparently willing to join Slytherin's forces. But as the nearest Knight approached them, in every case they swung their conjured weapon, dealing mortal wounds to their enemy.

"So be it," Slytherin hissed. "Too long have you allied yourself with my incompetent former allies. Knights - attack!"

The battle began again in earnest, but this time there was no rally from the human forces. Harry watched in horror as the newly-reinforced Dark army struck again and again, killing and maiming those in front of them. The human army inflicted losses, but they suffered far more.

Suddenly Harry twisted and broke free of Slytherin's grip. Snatching at the Dark wizard's belt with his one good arm, he grabbed at the green-jewelled sword that hung there and swept it upwards. The blade slashed across Slytherin's side, leaving a deep cut that Salazar clutched at in pained disbelief, crying out even as he staggered backwards.

"Fool!" Slytherin snarled. He drew his wand, but Harry - Godric - lurched forwards, grabbing Slytherin around the throat and striking at his wand arm with the sword, which felt as though it were trying to resist.

"God's pox, Gryffindor," Salazar yelled. "Lie down and die!"

Harry slowly, painfully pushed himself to his feet, using the sword to balance himself.

"I'll not let you walk away, Salazar," he said. "You've betrayed us, us and everyone who followed us."

"I've shown them the light!"

"You've led them into darkness," Harry - Godric - said through gritted teeth. The sword felt alien in his left hand. Harry thought that it might have been enchanted so that only Slytherin himself could use it.

"You should rejoice," Slytherin said, drawing his wand. "You are here, at the dawning of a new era."

"I prefer the old one, then," Harry said. He lunged forward, bringing the sword around in a wild sweep. Slytherin ducked and with a wave of his wand summoned Gryffindor's sword from the ground nearby. He swung, and Harry was just able to raise his sword in time to parry the blow.

"It shouldn't be like this, Salazar," Harry huffed, as the blades locked between them. Both wizards strained, trying to break the lock. "You can still walk away. You've made some wrong choices, but call it off now and we can sort this out."

It was like trying to reason with a brick wall, or worse, a dragon. The look on Slytherin's face was barely human, his eyes lit with a dangerous madness that Harry felt tainted just looking at.

"It is too late, old friend," Slytherin hissed. "Far too late. For you."

With a twist, Slytherin broke free from the stalemate, and his blade slashed downward. Harry cried out, and toppled backward, crashing to the ground as Slytherin yelled an inhuman cry of victory.

Harry lay on the ground, staring at the bloody stump of his right wrist. His right hand lay on the ground several feet away.

"I never really expected you to join me," Slytherin said, peering down at him. "But I hoped. It would have been magnificent, Godric. You and I - and they," he gestured at the fallen bodies of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. "They would have gone along as well. Hogwarts could have been great!"

"It is great," Harry huffed. "Under you it would have been a bastion of intolerance, a school of prejudice and hatred."

"It would have been glorious!" Slytherin insisted, raising Gryffindor's own sword above his head for the final killing strike.

Harry snatched at his own belt, drawing his wand. As Slytherin brought the sword down, Harry brought the wand up.

"Avada Kedavra!"

The sword hit the spell, which barely seemed to slow. It hit Slytherin in the chest, sending him cartwheeling backward, crashing to the ground with an unholy scream.

"Godric?"

Ravenclaw was conscious, clawing herself slowly across the ground toward him with one hand, the other clutched underneath her as she made her way slowly, painfully towards him.

"What was that spell, Ro?" Harry asked.

"The Killing Curse," she said, her face paler than he - Godric - ever remembered seeing it. "Dark Magic. The darkest magic."

Harry turned back as Slytherin began to stir. Slowly he pushed himself to his feet, scowling horrifically. His entire chest was a mass of red, burns, blood and flayed skin. How he was standing Harry couldn't even begin to understand - he could only assume that he was being driven by pure hatred, such was the ferocious light burning in his eyes.

"Nearly, old friend," he said, blood spilling from his mouth as he spoke. "But not enough. I'll see you again."

With a faint pop, he Disapparated. Harry slowly pushed himself to his feet and walked over to the crest of the hill. He looked down towards the battle. The Dark side seemed to have been enjoying the best of the fight, with many from the human army laying dead on the ground. Then, almost as one, the robed and hooded Knights clutched at their arms, and Disapparated. One wasn't fast enough, and died on the point of a sword, but the rest vanished.

The human army seemed to pause and then, also as one, they turned their full and furious rage upon the remnants of the Dark army, the trolls, mercenaries, giants and other Dark creatures that Slytherin had assembled but did not appear to care enough for to ensure their safe retreat. Harry supposed that the humans weren't valued pure-bloods while the creatures would have been beneath the Dark wizard's interest.

The Dark army fell into disarray. Those who could Disapparate did so. Those who couldn't tried to run. Those not fast enough to do either died.

The survivors of the battle regarded the torn and shattered ground around them. The battle had lasted only minutes, but from that short span of time thousands lay dead or dying around them. Harry felt sickened by the sight. The slaughter had only taken a few moments - and he suspected that many of the deaths had been at the hands of wizards, able to inflict massive damage with the minimum of effort.

Harry collapsed to the ground, cradling his bleeding stump of a wrist to his chest, feeling as though his entire right side had been subjected to hours of torture.

"He's gone, isn't he?"

It was Helga Hufflepuff. She appeared to be the least injured of the three of them, although a thick bandage was wrapped around the wound that Slytherin had inflicted, and she moved slowly, obviously in great pain.

"No. Not now," Harry replied.

"We'll have to kill him, won't we?"

"One day," Harry said. He turned, and Summoned his own, red-jeweled sword. The pommel lay heavily in his one remaining hand, and he sighed.

"One day."

Harry awoke with a start. That had been the whole dream, he was sure. He couldn't have imagined...

He remembered the scenes of death spread out before him and felt sick. Swallowing down the bile in his throat, he swung himself out of bed.

He had to find Dumbledore. Not only did he know the rest of the dream, but he knew-

Harry stumbled as his scar throbbed painfully, and while he tried to erect his Occlumency shields, it wasn't enough. He felt Voldemort's cold, alien presence in his mind, flashing in and out as quickly as a light switching on and off.

Harry clung to the bedpost. He knew what the dream was, and even had an idea what it meant. He knew who the Heirs of the other houses were as well.

And now, so did Voldemort.

To be continued...