The Greatest Power

Chapter Five: Off the Radar

Somewhere off the coast of Italy, a man sat on a stone throne that sat on a raised dais in the center of a large, medieval-looking room. Around him were at least twenty men and women, indistinguishable from one another as they all wore flowing black robes and masks. Every last one of them was on their knees, their heads bowed, waiting for their instructions.

"Have we found the boy yet?" Voldemort demanded in his inhumanly high-pitched voice.

A cool, drawling voice answered him from under the mask closest to the throne. "No, My Lord. He is no longer with his aunt and uncle, but we have been unable to locate him."

"How has this happened, Lucius? You, among others, were supposed to be keeping watch on the boy. How did he get away from you?" The Dark Lord's voice was menacing and low, a dangerous sign.

"The werewolf came to the door of his home, and after talking with the boy's uncle for a moment, shot a signal from his wand. Four of the others went into the house, but we did not see any of them leave. They must have disapparated."

"Potter cannot disapparate."

"I know, My Lord. I cannot explain it, but I will personally see that he is found," Malfoy answered, trying to appease his master.

"See that you do, Lucius. As you know, I have found a way to get past the wards protecting Harry while he is with his relatives. We may not have been able to physically get close to him while he remained in the house, but I was able to focus on his mind, on his thoughts...even speak to him."

"A feat only you could have managed, My Lord," simpered Bellatrix Lestrange, who was kneeling next to Malfoy.

"Since the day prior to Potter's departure from that house, I have not been able to focus on the boy. I have searched, but in vain. It is as if he has simply ceased to exist."

"I will ask my contact at the Ministry, My Lord," Lucius said swiftly, correctly sensing Voldemort's frustration and growing wrath.

"See that you do." Voldemort's voice was at its most dangerous. "I...want...him...found. Immediately!" At these words, the Death Eaters rose as one, and began leaving the chamber, keeping their heads lowered.

* * *

From the time of Harry's arrival at Number 12, Grimmauld place, one person never left his side. Remus Lupin had pulled Sirius' old armchair to the side of the bed and stayed with Harry around the clock, dozing on and off, but never leaving the room. Madam Pomfrey had been by to see him twice daily, and left Remus with strengthening, nutritive, and hydrating potions to be spooned down the boy's throat hourly. She was certain that Harry would make a complete recovery with time, but to Remus, Harry hardly looked any better than when he had arrived two days before. He was just as limp, just as unresponsive. There was a slight pink tinge to his cheeks from the strengthening potion, but he remained as gaunt as before.

Molly spent almost as much time with Harry as Remus did, although she had to leave the room to take care of Ron and Ginny, who were not taking this situation very well. The first time Ginny had entered the room and seen Harry, her face had gone white and she had to be helped out of the room by Fred and George. She hadn't come back. Ron was being very quiet, preferring to spend his time alone in his own bedroom when he was not sitting with Harry. Arthur was not able to help much, as he had taken on Molly's duties for the Order as well as his own, and he still had to go to work at the Ministry every day.

Molly and Remus both held his hands, talking to him, coaxing him to come back to them, telling him that he was with his family now. When the others came into the room, they encouraged them to do the same, but it was hard. Fred and George tried to make jokes, but couldn't ever seem to get to the punch line. Ron tried to talk about Quidditch, but found that having a one-sided conversation about it was not nearly as good as the enthusiastic arguments over the sport that he and Harry were known for. So for the most part, Molly, Remus, and Harry were left alone.

"Harry," Remus whispered late on the third night, after Molly had gone to bed. "Harry, I want you to listen to me, wherever you are. I know you can hear me, and I need to talk to you."

He took a deep breath. "Harry, what happened to Sirius was not your fault. I know that you think it is, but you were tricked into going to the Department of Mysteries by Voldemort because he knew you would do anything to save your Godfather. You went there with courage and loyalty to Sirius. He went for you for the same reasons. That's what love is, and what friendship is."

Tears filled Remus' eyes and spilled down his cheeks as he squeezed Harry's hand. "Sirius made the choice, Harry. He knew the risks, and he took them gladly. And in the end, Bellatrix Lestrange killed him. She killed him, Harry. Not you. She is the only person on whom the blame can be placed. Sirius' death is her fault, not yours."

Harry gave no response, but lay as still as he had been since his arrival.

"There is something else you need to know. Sirius was your legal guardian in the magical world. As your Godfather, you were his responsibility. He could not have lived with himself if he had not gone to you when you needed him.

"In his will, Sirius passed the torch of guardianship over to me. And Harry, I'm glad he did. You can come to me if you ever need anything. I know I am not Sirius, or your father, but I am your friend, and I care about you more than you could guess. Right now, though, I need you to come back to me. Please, Harry. Please come back and let me help you. I can't lose you, too."

* * *

Someone was speaking to him, but he couldn't understand what they were saying, it was too soft. Who was there? Harry tried to open his eyes, but couldn't...his eyelids were too heavy to lift.

Where was he? It was too dark, and he dimly heard someone pounding furiously on a door somewhere, but it was not the same person who was speaking to him. His mind was blank, no images there for once.

He was too tired to think of it now.

* * *

"How is he, Remus?" Dumbledore, who had been visiting daily, asked.

Remus sighed tiredly. "About the same. His eyes have started moving a bit behind the lids, but he hasn't opened them."

Dumbledore bent over the boy on the bed, using a cool cloth to wipe Harry's brow gently. As usual, his eyes stopped on the scar on Harry's forehead, and he touched it, wondering at the power it seemed to hold. Just a scar...but one of the most powerful magical connections Dumbledore had ever known. He wondered what it had to do with Harry's condition. He knew there was something more to this.

"Harry?" he whispered. "Harry, it's time to come back to us. Come on back, Harry. We've let you rest, but it is time to work now. Open your eyes, Harry."

* * *

"Harry, it's time to come back to us. Come on back, Harry."

He knew that voice...Dumbledore...Dumbledore wanted him to come back? From where? Harry was right here, just sleeping. So peaceful just to sleep.

"We've let you rest, but it's time to work now. Open your eyes, Harry."

The voice was becoming clearer, and Harry could see a bright light through his still-closed eyelids. He felt comfortable, and warm...and safe. Safe. His eyes fluttered.

"That's right, Harry. Come on back." Dumbledore.

"Come on, Harry, you can do it." Another voice. Professor Lupin? Why was he here?

"That's right, Potter. Come back to us. I have missed our little chats." Another voice, a high-pitched, inhuman voice, the "s" sound trailing like a snake's hiss. "I've been looking for you, you know. I want to show you something."

An image unfolded like a curtain opening behind Harry's eyes. Voldemort, sitting on a throne in the middle of a large room, surrounded by Death Eaters, whose rank parted so that there was a clear path to him. He looked straight at Harry.

"Your Godfather will not be the last to die, Potter..."

* * *

Remus and Dumbledore stared intently at Harry. His eyes fluttered and almost opened.

"That's right, Harry. Come on back," Dumbledore said softly.

"Come on, Harry. You can do it," Remus coaxed.

Harry's pale face relaxed and it seemed for a moment that he might even smile a bit. Remus took his hand, squeezing it comfortingly.

Suddenly, Harry's entire body tensed, and his grip on Remus' hand would have been painful if he were not still so weak. "No," he moaned, his voice rough and cracked. "No more...my fault...because of me..."

Remus stared at Harry, alarmed and bewildered. Dumbledore, however, seemed to know exactly what was happening. He leaned over Harry and began to gently shake him.

"Harry!" he said firmly, the softness in his voice gone. "Harry, it's Professor Dumbledore. You need to wake up. Wake up, Harry!"

Harry's eyes flew open. He gasped and sat bolt upright in bed, but the sudden movement made him dizzy and he swayed. Remus leaned in quickly and caught him before he flopped back down. Harry looked wildly around. Where was he?

Remus shoved his usual reticence aside and unabashedly wrapped his arms around Harry. Both of them were trembling, Remus with relief, Harry in abject terror.

"Shh...it's OK, Harry. It's OK. You're safe." Remus said softly.

For the first time, Harry seemed to recognize his former professor's voice. "Pr...Professor Lupin?"

"Yes, Harry, it's me. Professor Dumbledore is here as well. We've been waiting for you to wake up." Remus released his hold on the boy, carefully placing some fat pillows behind his back to support him.

"Professor Dumbledore?" Harry asked blankly. He could not figure out what was happening.

"Yes, Harry, I'm here."

Harry's hoarse whisper became more panicked. "Professor...Voldemort...a castle...where am I?"

Albus gently touched Harry's shoulder. "You're at Headquarters, Harry. You've been here for over three days. This was Sirius' bedroom."

"Sirius!" Harry tried to sit up straight again.

Lupin gently pushed Harry back onto his pillows. "Before we do any more talking, Harry, there are some potions you need to take." He got up and selected three vials out of many from the top of a heavy oak chest in the corner of the room.

Harry looked at the vials suspiciously. "What are these?" he questioned.

"One is a strengthening potion," Lupin answered, holding up the

smallest of the vials. "Another is a hydrating potion, and the last is a nutritive potion. You were in pretty bad shape when we got you, Harry. These will help you recover."

Harry nodded. He was already starting to feel sleepy again, and as his mind cleared, he felt that he would rather sleep than talk to his professors and answer their questions. He took all three potions without another word and lay back on his pillows, closing his eyes. After only a few moments, the gentle rise and fall of his chest became regular, and Harry was deep in a calm sleep.

* * *

Molly Weasley entered the dreary cellar kitchen with the idea of making a cup of soothing chamomile tea for Ginny, and was very surprised to see Albus Dumbledore sitting calmly in one of the chairs at the table, sipping a cup of steaming tea himself. The hour was very late, and what time Dumbledore had been able to spare from his Order business, he had spent entirely at Harry's bedside. She looked at him with baited breath.

"He's awake," he said simply, and a bit of the old twinkle was back in his eyes. She clapped her hands to her mouth. "Or, I should say, he was awake. He's gone to sleep now, but the sleep is natural. Harry is back among us."

Tears filled Molly's eyes. No matter what Poppy Pomfrey had said, she would not believe that Harry would recover until she saw it with her own eyes. As long as she lived, she would never be able to erase the memory of Harry in Remus Lupin's arms, looking one step away from death.

"Has he told you what happened?" she whispered. She had so many fears for Harry...had he done this to himself? Had his relatives abused him? Or...was it something else?

"Not yet, but I have some suspicions. Let's see what he says tomorrow. We need to take this one step at a time, of course."

"Of course," Molly echoed. "Can I see him?"

"Certainly. You will find Remus still with him. He could not be persuaded to leave the room."

Molly nodded at Dumbledore and turned from the room, Ginny's tea forgotten as she rushed as quietly as possible upstairs.

She knocked softly on the door and heard Remus answer. She entered to find Remus sitting, as usual, in the armchair he had moved next to the bed, holding Harry's hand. Molly hadn't realized until that very moment that Lupin cared for Harry almost like a son, just as she did. The tears of mixed relief and sadness trickling down his face were testimony to that. Of course, she reasoned, Harry was the last remainder of the best friends Remus had loved so much...but more than that, they had all come to love Harry for who he was, rather than for whom his parents were.

She crossed softly to the other side of the bed and took Harry's other hand. How many hours in the past three days had she and Remus sat together like this, each of them holding one of Harry's hands? But this time was different. This time, they knew he was going to be alright. Molly smiled, and for the first time in days, Remus smiled back. Harry was going to be fine. Of course there were other worries, but for now, that was enough.

* * *

Almost a half an hour went by, and Molly still hadn't returned to Ginny's room. 'What's taking her so long?' Ginny thought, and suddenly, she was terrified. Something had happened with Harry. She knew it - it was the only reason her mother would have left to get her a cup of tea and not come back. Just as she was about to go find her mum, Ron walked into the room, followed by the twins.

"You can't sleep either, eh sis?" Fred asked.

"No," Ginny replied. "And Mum's been here with me, but she left half an hour ago to make me some tea, and she hasn't come back yet."

Ron looked worriedly at his siblings. "I saw Dumbledore leaving Harry's room a while ago, but I couldn't see his face. Surely, if something had happened, they would have told us?"

All four of the Weasley children groaned in unison. Their mother was famous for her strict insistence on keeping her kids on a strictly need-to-know basis when it came to things like this.

Ginny had just made up her mind to go to Harry's room herself, when Molly came into the room, a steaming cup of tea in her hand, and tears running down her face.

Ginny's heart dropped into her chest, and she sat down on the bed. Fred, George and Ron all joined her, all touching each other in some way, as if they gathered strength in their togetherness. The Weasley brood may bicker, but it could never be said that they didn't stick together when times were hard.

Molly set the cup of tea on Ginny's nightstand and knelt in front of them, putting her eyes at their level, just like she had when they were small.

"Harry's woken up," she said softly. "He's going to be fine."

Ron's face broke into a grin that closely mirrored the ones on Fred's and George's faces. Ginny, however, burst into almost hysterical tears.

"What in the bloody hell are you crying for?" Ron asked his sister, utterly confused.

"I'm...I'm just..." she could hardly get the words out. "I'm so...so...happy!"

Ron gaped at her. "Ginny, when did you become such a girl?" Ginny turned to him and socked him playfully in the arm, smiling through her tears.

"That's more like it." Ron said. "I've got to send an owl to Hermione! I swore I would as soon as he woke up. She had to stay with her parents this summer, but she's worried sick." He left the room grinning, almost skipping in his relief.

Ginny looked at Fred and George. "When did he talk to Hermione? She and I write back and forth often, but she hasn't mentioned talking to Ron, either."