Harry Potter and the Wizards of Narhassa

Chapter 14: The Real Meaning of Leverage

Ron had seen Harry's vacant expression when he had arrived on the scene within the Narhassa stands. Ron knew something terrible had happened, but he could not speculate what. Had it not been for Professor Lupin and Professor McGonagall being present, Ron would have drawn his wand to stand by Harry's side.

Seth was hissing something unintelligibly to Harry, who did not respond verbally. Instead, Harry weakly nodded... even though his wand remained fixed upon Seth's chest. Ron knew at once that Seth was speaking in Parseltongue, for he had heard Harry speaking the language before.

Hermione and Sean seemed equally confused as they watched Harry, with their mouth's agape. While they made no move to break through the wall of Narhassa students, they watched from an elevated row in the stands.

The scene that unfolded was of outright confusion. Seth Redetyor was holding his hands up defensively while Harry seemed all but dead, as he stood with his wand pointed at Redetyor, with wisps of smoke still trickling from the end.

"... and I borrowed Neville Longbottom's Remembrall to conduct an experiment involving memory and forgetfulness among the students of Narhassa," Seth was explaining. "Harry came over to fetch it back for Longbottom, I would assume, though I do question his approach of interrupting the game and scaring everyone to death."

Harry's expression remained completely emotionless, but his wand slowly lowered. Jessica had handed Lupin the ball they had taken from Seth, only for the sandy-haired man to confirm that it was, indeed, a Remembrall and nothing more. Professor McGonagall shook her head and thinned her lips considerably.

"Potter, despite the game being put on temporary pause, flying your broom across the field was most disruptive and broke many rules. Fifteen points will be taken from Gryffindor for this action."

Professor McGonagall clucked her tongue with frustration, while Lupin continued to eye Redetyor extremely wearily. Feeling overwhelmed by a sense of loyalty, Ron slowly approached Harry, who still clutched his wand. It was no longer pointed at Seth, but at the ground now.

"Well," said Professor McGonagall, turning about to take her leave. "Nothing more to say."

Professor Lupin narrowed his eyes at Seth for a long while before finally affirming. "All those of my house, take their seats again. Harry, why don't you return back with your friends to the Gryffindor section?"

Harry did not respond, nor did Ron see any indication of his friend hearing Lupin. Unable to bare it, Ron began to weed his way through the students of Narhassa.

"Harry?" asked Ron, pushing through the last of the crowd to stand by his friend's side.

Seth moved forward, his robes blowing ominously in the turbulent wind. His dull gray eyes passed over Ron with a glint of knowing as he strolled past him. Barely able to contain his own anger, Ron stared after him with unbridled fury. The red haired boy lost interest as Seth faded into the crowd and looked back to his best friend in the world.

Harry looked positively and completely defeated. His emerald green eyes had lost their usual glitter, for behind them, Ron only saw cold fury. In place of wisdom and temperance, Ron only saw blankness.

"Well, that was a strange moment," blared Lee Jordan's voice. "Gryffindor Captain Harry Potter decided to take matters into his own hands and give a little scare to the cheating House Narhassa, costing Gryffindor fifteen points! All I can say is props to him, for I think we can all agree that those fifteen points were well spent!"

Ron smiled slightly at the comment, but his grin lost its luster upon seeing Harry not blink his eyes in reaction. Daring to be bold, Ron grabbed Harry's arm and shook him.

"Harry, wake up. Are you alright?" he asked.

Harry blinked his lids slowly, as if recovering from a bout of hypnosis. He turned slowly about to face Ron. As he did, his hands began to shake at his sides and his eyes visibly began to tear up.

"What... have... I ... done..." whimpered Harry pathetically, his wand slipping out from his fingertips.

In all the years Ron had known Harry, never once had he seen him show such emotions. He had never demonstrated fear, sorrow or such empty doubt. It unnerved Ron at once, forcing him to take a step back.

"You have done nothing," said Ron, in a strangely alienated voice.

"I... did something... awful," whispered Harry, in a voice so meek that Ron barely made it out, despite standing right next to him.

Ron shook his head and picked up Harry's wand from the stony row. "Come on," he said with a calmly voice, finally recovering from the shock of seeing Harry looking so utterly vanquished. His friend put up no fight as Ron escorted him down the row. Hermione and Sean met them on their way around the arena, and quietly returned to their seats.

The Quidditch match finally ended in a great upset to Slytherin, who lost three hundred and ten to zero, as not a single Slytherin was able to cross half-court with the quaffle without being bombarded by bludgers. Ron could not possibly hate a person any more than Draco Malfoy, however, he felt pity for him... even if only for a second or two, as he was assaulted by two bludgers every time he saw the snitch. Alex had finally caught the snitch and ended the game after twenty minutes of play.

Yet, while Ron loved Quidditch as much as life, he missed well more than half the match. He was unable to concentrate, for he was too busy watching Harry with brotherly concern. In the entire twenty-minute match, he could count the times Harry blinked his eyes upon one hand. Something had his best friend totally defeated, and he was not talking about it.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

The next five days were, bar none, the longest of Ron's life. To him, it seemed as though the world had suddenly become so small that everywhere he looked, he had no companions. Harry's body continued to function, but the Harry Ron knew was nowhere to be found within his listless eyes.

The tensions between House Narhassa and the rest of the school had culminated to a point where Ron witnessed four Narhassa third years were picking on three Hufflepuff students. To his amazement, third year Slytherin students came to the defense of their fellow wizards, and forcefully drove away the Muggles. In a way, it seemed like an alternate reality for him. Slytherins were no longer the enemy; Narhassa was.

And Sean and Hermione continued to see each other, which struck him as sharply as a dagger within his spine. Every word spoken and every smile exchanged felt like someone twisting that dagger mercilessly in his back. Sean continued to ignore Ron, which was probably for the best. He could tell that Hermione never gave up hope that he would come around and make friendly with Sean, but from where he stood, Ron wanted nothing to do with the shorter boy.

It was on such a down note that Ron entered the Gryffindor common room, five days after the Quidditch game. Not a single word had been spoken about Voldemort or Seth Redetyor for that entire time. It seemed so distant, now that Harry had all but given up.

And it was Harry that met Ron's eyes in the crowded common room. He sat alone by the fire, sunk deep within a maroon armchair, staring intently at the golden-red flames. If Ron had never seen Harry before, he would have withdrawn a holy symbol in hopes of staving off the vampire by the fire.

Harry's face seemed completely pale against the fire, with his raven black hair as disheveled as ever. It was also clear that Harry had not shaved in nearly a week, for the stubble around his chin and upper lip was beginning to give him a scruffy look. The bags under his eyes glared sharply with his milky white skin and his eyes seemed to shine with a dead amber glow as the flames of the fireplace reflected within them.

This was all Ron could bare, as he marched over to Harry's side. He barely kept his emotions in check.

"Talk to me, Harry," was all he could manage, his voice beginning to choke up with emotion as the stress of the week broke through his failing countenance.

There was nothing but sharp tension as Harry continued to stare into the flickering flames. Harry seemed to be completely ignoring him, like he wasn't even there. Ron swallowed the lump emerging in his throat, and turned to go.

"I like fire," said Harry, his voice sounding low and dreary, like a man upon his deathbed. He continued to stare intently into the fireplace. "Do you know why?"

"Why?" asked Ron, stopping in his tracks. He decided to play along, for those were the most words Harry had spoken to him in five days.

"Because of its simple existence," continued Harry, his mouth moving independently of the rest of his body, maintaining perfect stillness. "It is born a spark and feeds slowly in its childhood, gently lapping up nutrition provided by the mother who brought it to life."

Ron swallowed a nervous lump within his throat, but remained silent.

"When it reaches puberty, it blossoms... consuming all available nutrition as it roars into its adulthood, eating anything that is thrown its way; completely impartial to its sustenance as long as it is edible."

"Where are you going with this, Harry?" asked Ron timidly. "If you are trying to scare me, you are doing a good job."

"And when it runs out of food, it spirals down into its old age... until the last venerable dying ashes glow bright red with a final fury, and then disappear into the darkness of death."

"Please, Harry," said Ron, his voice quavering. "Tell me what's wrong."

Harry's face finally formed into a mirthless grin without any trace of goodness. "We are like fire, Ron. Humans... good or evil... we come into the world and at first, we are content to just get by. Then, when we see how big the pie really is... we all grab for as much of it as we can, until there is nothing left but the bleakness of death."

There was a lengthy pause as Ron dropped his eyes and looked at Harry. Never in his entire life had he imagined Harry could look like this, or talk like this. It broke Ron's will and his confidence, for never had he felt so fragile in his entire life.

"If you were ever my friend, Harry," began Ron, his voice cracking with emotion, "you will tell me what happened to make you like this, five days ago." His blue eyes began to water up uncontrollably. "Please," he added.

At last, Ron seemed to finally make a dent. Harry blinked his dull eyes and bit his lips. He took his eyes off the fire and glared at his feet, a figment of the old Harry seemed to break through as his expression faltered.

"Ok," mouthed Harry, his lips speaking for the voice that would not emerge.

Ron extended his hand to Harry, and Harry gripped it weakly. Ron pulled him off the chair, and led him up to their empty dorm room. Seamus, Dean and Neville were all still in the Common Room, while Sean's location was currently unknown. Ron was quick to guess that him and Hermione were in the Astronomy Tower, or worse yet, in her room.

Harry sat down upon the edge of his four-posture bed, and Ron joined him, feeling extremely awkward. Something told Ron that he should remain close to his best friend, for he was, no doubt, about to lay down something extremely important upon him. Yet, at the same time, he had never been the one to console Harry for any length of time. It was always the Boy Who Lived who seemed to be the bastion of strength; it was Harry who comforted Hermione and him during times of trouble. And now, it was time for Ron to repay the favor... and he was not sure how to do it.

"I did something awful, Ron," said Harry, looking down at his feet, with his hands folded upon his lap.

Ron smiled slightly, in an attempt to break the tension. "I did not see you dancing Karaoke style with Professor Snape."

If Harry had heard the joke, he did not react to it. "I felt what it was like to be Voldemort, Ron."

The combined use of the word Voldemort and Harry's dark expression was enough to banish the smile from Ron's face.

"I do not know if it was my scar that linked me to him, but, during the confrontation with Redetyor, I shared a mind with Voldemort. I saw all my hardships appear before me, and I watched helplessly as they played themselves out in front of my very eyes."

Ron remained deathly silent.

"I could feel my own anger and taste my own hate; it was tangible. It was a force that I could control and project onto another. And, so, I tried... Ron."

Harry's voice failed him and Ron heard him sniffle, making Ron pale with fright and tension.

"I tried to kill Redetyor in cold blood... using the Killing Curse. I was completely consumed by darkness and, for that time, I became a Dark Wizard."

A tear dropped from Harry's eyes onto the front of his black robes, fading into the fabric. Ron could not even think of a reply as he listened to Harry.

"Without any practice in the Dark Arts, I was unable to perform the curse... at least, that was what Redetyor told me after I tried. He then told me that I was to stay out of his business, or he would decree that I attempted to use the Killing Curse on him, and fifty Narhassa wizards would verify it. I would be expelled at best, or given life in Azkaban at worst!"

Harry clenched a fist and dug it painfully into his chin, as his arm shook with emotion and anger. He sucked air in through his pressed lips, as a sob broke through.

"How could I have been so stupid! I played right into his fucking hands!" he exclaimed in a failed voice, his entire body quivering with rage. And, with that, Harry buried his face into his hands, and began to sob in complete shame.

To Ron's own disbelief, this did not make him feel any less awkward. In fact, he felt a great weight float off his shoulders. Now that he knew what was bothering Harry, he would be able to help him now.

"I'm sure Redetyor wants us all dead, Harry," said Ron, his voice soft. "It's not your fault."

Harry continued sobbing into his palms.

"What am I going to do now?" said Harry's muffled voice from his hands in between sniffles. "Redetyor controls my entire life... I cannot act against him... at his whim, I'll be expelled or worse!"

Ron, doing the only thing he could think of, put his arm around his best friend and shook him in a brotherly manner.

"We are going to do it the way we've done it for four years, Harry," said Ron, his voice uplifting even his own spirits. "We are going to act against him without him knowing. He's only human; you proven this."

Harry looked up from his hands, his pale face now being stained crimson red from his emotional breakdown. He wiped his eyes slowly, and Ron could not help but notice the glimmer was back within the emerald green hue of them.

"How?" asked Harry, the air still choking in his throat as he tried to speak.

Ron smirked and removed his arm from Harry, and stood up from his bed. With a bounce to his step, he skipped over to Harry's trunk and began to fling some of Harry's personal items aside, in search of something. After nearly hitting Harry with a pair of boxers, Ron finally withdrew what he was looking for... the shimmering Invisibility Cloak. It seemed to drape off of his fingers liquidly as he hoisted it out of the trunk.

"We are leaving the Common Room," decreed Ron proudly, tossing the cloak to Harry.

Harry's saddened expression perked slightly as he, again, wiped away at the rings of moisture around his eyes.

"And going where?" asked Harry, taking a calming deep breath.

Ron smiled at Harry and punched him playfully in the shoulder. "To get you some food, man. You look like a cross between a vampire and Snape's left arse cheek."

Harry arched one of his brows.

"And, of course... talk to a certain house elf friend of ours who just MAY be decent for gathering us information with his free access of all of Hogwarts."

"What sort of information did you have in mind?" asked Harry meekly.

"A date," explained Ron.

"Ron," began Harry, a desperate chuckle breaking through his still flushed face. "If this is about you and Hermione..."

Ron rolled his eyes. "No, not that kind of date you mangy pillock... a date, as in a time. What if Dobby is able to get into House Narhassa's Common Room, and becomes privy to a date when they all plan to act."

"You've been thinking about this a lot," said Harry, looking at Ron with infinite respect. "What makes you think they have a date floating around?"

Ron scratched the peach fuzz on the bottom of his chin. "Think about it. Redetyor is collecting Narhassa's souls... meanwhile, he is leaving school to set things up, and attempting to silence those who seem to be onto him... mainly you and Malfoy. He obviously doesn't want to kill either of you, and my guess as to why that is... is simply that if bodies start showing up all around Hogwarts..."

Harry, whose eyes widened, suddenly cut off Ron. "Dumbledore will immediately lock down the school, and send all students home, as he almost did during our second year! And, you've seen how weak Redetyor is with me... he wouldn't last a minute once Voldemort and his Deatheaters got word he is out of the school and out of Dumbledore's care!"

Ron nodded slowly, his tongue smacking his lips. "Exactly. Seth needs time... for something. Now, think on this... Sean's dreams, as we have all been painfully made aware of, depict him inside of a classroom, learning the value of self-sacrifice and preparing him for something."

Harry snapped his fingers, his old vitality seeping back into his bones. "Bang on! But, if Sean does not know this date... what makes you think others will?"

"Remember," said Ron with a slight smirk. "Sean is having a hard time remembering the specifics of his dreams. I have a hunch Redetyor does not trust him and is causing him to forget some of the more concrete details."

"It's a possibility," said Harry with a nod. "We know spells like that are quite easy to perform."

"One thing though that doesn't fit..." began Ron. "Sean is the only Muggle wizard who dreams that the person teaching the class is Voldemort... why would Sean see Voldemort, if Redetyor plans to oppose him?"

Harry's eyes became glazed for a moment, as he struggled to recall something. He closed his eyes, as if wracking his brain. "During our showdown, a few days ago, Redetyor said something about him and Voldemort being bound by the powers of Narhassa. If one of them dies, so does the other... or something of that sort. Perhaps Sean saw through Redetyor, and through Redetyor lies Voldemort?"

Ron shrugged. "It's as good of a guess as any, Harry, though we still don't know our arse from our elbows about what Redetyor and Voldemort have to do with each other. Redetyor is the adopted great-grandson of Dumbledore, born sixteen years ago, and Voldemort is over sixty and has been near death most of Redetyor's life."

Harry finally rose to his feet, still holding his Invisibility Cloak. Before throwing it on, however, Harry cracked a smile at Ron.

"We will figure it out."

Ron also smiled, more brightly than he had in a long while. "That's the spirit."

Harry's smiled waned slightly as he locked his hands behind his back "You have no idea how much your friendship means to me, Ron."

Ron blushed slightly and rubbed the back of his own head. "Ok, ok, don't get all mushy on me, will ya? If I had a galleon for every time you've been there for me, I'd buy Malfoy's Manor and condemn it, just to see the look on Draco's face when it is reduced to rubble."

With a snort, Harry held out his hand. "Fine. No more mush, just a shake."

Ron smirked and shook Harry's hand, gripping it tightly. "Agreed."

Without another wood, Harry threw on his invisibility cloak, and Ron wasted no time crawling underneath.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Sean rested his arms behind his back, lying deeply upon the pillows of Hermione's bed. He was dressed in his school robes still, for he had not taken a chance to change after his classes got out.

"Aw, come on," he said with a smile. "Do I really have to leave?"

Hermione grabbed his arms and attempted to pull him off her bed, but the boy went completely limp.

"I have homework to do, Sean!" said Hermione shortly. "Come on... get... up..."

Sean smirked and continued his passive resistance, until Hermione finally gave up.

"You've already finished your homework," said Sean knowingly. "For the next few days."

Hermione sighed and sat down upon the opposite side of her bed, right on top of Sean's legs, causing him to wince and withdraw them.

"I know," she said with a sigh. "I guess... I don't really know what's going on, that's all."

Sean rose from his prone position and crawled behind Hermione. He wrapped his arms softly around her waist.

"What's wrong?" asked Sean, childishly resting his head upon her shoulder. "Did I do something bad? I try to be good, but it is so boring."

Hermione giggled slightly and took hold of his hands. However, her giggle was short-lived.

"You don't have a single bad bone in your body," she said truthfully. "I'm concerned about my two best friends, that's all," said Hermione with a sigh.

Sean squeezed her hands tenderly within his own. "Ron is ... how do you guys say it here in England... a speccy, mangy, bloated pillockish prat?"

Hermione laughed and slapped his hand with her own playfully. "Yes, but he is also my best friend. In truth, I am more concerned about Harry, though."

Sean nodded. "I am too, 'Mione. He's been acting really strange lately. I'm also worried about someone else though."

The wavy-haired girl turned her head over her shoulder, to look Sean in the eyes. "Oh, don't worry about me, Sean."

The smaller boy smirked mischievously. "Oh, I'm not worried about you... you are as stout as a horse."

Hermione slapped his hand again, this time a bit less playfully, with a pout on her face.

"And high-spirited too!" added Sean, smiling devilishly.

"Who are you worried about then?" asked Hermione, loosing her serious attitude as quickly as it came.

Sean laughed slightly, lifting his head from Hermione's shoulder. "It'll make you laugh."

"Probably," returned the girl.

"Neville Longbottom," said Sean after a moment.

Hermione raised an awkward brow. "Neville? Why would you be worried about him?"

Sean cocked his head at Hermione strangely. "Oh, nothing... except that everyone dear to him is either dead or in the nuthouse, he has no family and nowhere to go home to."

Hermione stared at Sean with a dumbfounded expression. In truth, she had not given Neville a single bit of thought since the carriage ride to Hogwarts over a month ago. Now, it all came back into her mind... she had even promised to talk to him, but had completely forgotten in the chaos of the Sorting Ceremony and the appearance of Tom Marvolo Riddle's twin... Seth Redetyor.

"They are in a nuthouse?" asked Hermione, her eyes wide.

"Yeah," said Sean. "They are both being kept at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, wherever that is."

"How do you know all this?" asked Hermione.

Sean looked kindly into Hermione's deep, brown eyes. "He talks in his sleep... often, I am awakened at night by the dreams, and cannot get back to bed. I can hear him talking softly when I get close enough to his bed."

"I feel so sorry for him," said Hermione quietly. "I promised I'd talk to him, but that was so long ago."

Sean shrugged his shoulders. "Better late than never, Hermione."

Hermione gave Sean a lopsided grin in consideration. "Haven't you ever felt awkward doing anything? It would be so difficult to approach him."

The red-haired boy looked hard at Hermione, with nothing but compassion. "All the time. Telling you how I felt was the most terrifying experience in the world."

"Really?" asked Hermione, her voice soft and kind. "Am I such an intimidating person?"

Sean smiled and leaned forward, kissing her softly on the lips. After a quick peck, he withdrew. "Truthfully? I think you are one of the scariest people in this school when you want to be."

Hermione smiled and leaned back into him. "Beware..." she said with mock chill as she stroked his face caringly. "I just might devour you."

"For some reason, I am curiously aroused by that idea," said Sean, with a bright smile.

Hermione leaned in, kissing him with longing desire as Sean fell back into the pillows of her bed, closing his eyes and loosing himself in passion.

* * * * * * * * * * *

The students within the Gryffindor Common Room began to disperse as the night carried on. Neville yawned and lifted his arms off of his Defense Against the Dark Arts book entitled "Creative Curses and Cures" and stretched his arms into the air.

"Some of these things Lupin is teaching us are way beyond what most wizards learn in school," commented Seamus offhandedly as he flipped through his own book.

Dean looked at him from across the table. "Well, yeah. Lupin's always done that with us. We were taught how to fight off boggarts when we were thirteen years old, remember?"

Neville craned his neck and sighed. "I'm beat. I think I'm going to retire early."

Both Seamus and Dean nodded in his direction. "Good morrow, then."

"Good morrow," droned Neville as he rose from the table. With heavy legs, he marched up the stairs to the fifth year boy's dorm. He entered the bathroom and brushed his teeth, looking in the mirror. Staring into his own, baggy eyes, Neville was reminded of his present situation. Yet, he could not help but feel slightly relieved. He had three great friends who would be there for him whenever he needed. Seamus had always proven himself a great source of distraction from his regular life, while Dean also took Neville as seriously as the prefect.

Yet, the simple concern that he had no place to go for holiday vacation was more than just a bit disconcerting. He had no idea how much he missed his Gran until he thought of spending Christmas alone in the Gryffindor Common Room. Ron had agreed to go home for the holidays and bring Harry with him this year; he mentioned something about his brothers paying him well to come with them, to test some more products.

He washed his face and murmured "Nox" as he left the bathroom, extinguishing the magical light behind him. Without much adieu, he changed into his pajamas and climbed into bed.

Upon his bed, just as he had left it, was his diary. For the past few weeks, he had been writing down his thoughts in an attempt to help organize them. Deciding to write a bit more, Neville opened up his diary, dipped his quill in the ink by his bed stand. Before writing, he read the last passage in his book.

Do you feel like writing anything tonight?"

Neville put his quill to the paper.

"I don't really have thoughts tonight, just concerns."

Neville waited for a moment. As his writing dried, a message sure enough appeared in bright, bloody-red ink.

"I'm always here for you if you need someone to listen."

The round-faced boy smiled and continued writing.

"Thanks Seth. You are a great friend."