Book of Memories

Chapter 17: A DECISION SOLIDIFIED

Harry, Ron and Ginny packed up the next morning. Mrs. Weasley forced Harry to give her the torn pages of his photo album but didn't say what she was going to do with them. He felt miserable for tearing it to shreds and felt worse, after having slept on it, for blaming his parents for anything. After all, they sacrificed themselves to keep him alive. It was silly to think they had a choice.

Heart still gradually sinking, he followed Ron and Ginny quietly onto the Hogwarts Express and sat, sullen-faced and quiet, for the entire ride. Hermione, at least, tried to cheer Harry up.

Ron, thoughtless as usual, had said the 'd' word (dad) on the train ride. Upon arriving at Hogwarts, Harry's only wish was to have something to take his mind off of Sirius and as he tried to come up with something, he quickly started to think nothing would.

His first night back at Hogwarts, Harry found the small, grubby Christmas parcel he had thrown out sitting on top of his bed. The Dursleys must have sent another one and so he threw it away again. They would give up eventually if he ignored it. Probably wanted a reply back or something... he became more convinced they wanted the money they sent him back. Eventually, they would stop because they would have spent it all on sending boxes to him.

Dobby had also left a present on top of Harry's bed. Inside it was none other than another pair of mismatched socks. This time one was scarlet with golden lions, the other golden, with scarlet lions. Harry stuffed them into the bottom of his trunk, vowing to never wear them.

To add to Harry's list of problems, Malfoy had begun to take up annoying Harry once again. Apparently Malfoy just needed Christmas break to cheer him up again. Harry, for a moment, thought someone might have put a Memory Charm on Malfoy to make him forget the incident. It was possible, but it was also a little ridiculous.

"Had a dream of your parents rising from the dead, have you, Potter?" he said nastily to Harry during the start of Care of Magical Creatures. The door of Hagrid's hut opened and out came Hagrid himself.

"Now, now, Malfoy. Wouldn't want ter upset him because he might just not feel like savin' yer life next time," said Hagrid, pleased with himself. "I can on'y imagine how much that sword woulda hurt..."

Harry wanted to smile to show his appreciation but the muscles in his face forgot how to do it. He compromised by sticking his tongue out at Malfoy who had the smile wiped off his pale, pointed face.

"Today's the day," said Hagrid apprehensively. "Yeh might not like it much but Professor Dumbledore asked me ter to do it so I haven't got much choice." Hagrid rolled his eyes. "I don't like sayin' this either but... Professor Dumbledore has a strong feeling You-Know-Who will... before the year's end."

"Wonder why," Harry whispered to Hermione and Ron, rolling his eyes too.

"And he said that our least favorite creatures, dementors, are goin' ter be with him. He asked me ter show yeh the Patronus Charm. Me only problem is -- er -- Professor Moody can' make it. He's at the Ministry o' Magic offices fer the day and this can't wait. So," -- and he turned to Harry -- "Harry?"

Harry, who currently thought he couldn't conjure a Patronus to scare even Neville away, pulled out his wand and separated from Ron and Hermione, fully aware of the eyes watching him.

"I know yeh got lots o' practice with the Patronus Charm (I mean yeh conjured a Patronus ter scare away more than a hundred of 'em...), Harry, so yeh were Dumbledore's second choice." He bent down and whispered in Harry's ear, "Why don't yeh think of... think of how happy yeh were on yer birthday this year. That should work."

Right, Harry thought, he was supposed to change his mood from feeling the worst he ever felt the happiest he ever felt in the blink of an eye. Hagrid had lost his marbles but after Hagrid finished whispering, he asked Harry to show everyone how to conjure a Patronus along with a little background information. Then another thought came wizzing from the back of his head: Professor Lupin's dementor lessons and how determined Harry was to learn to be able to scare dementors off. With that in mind...

"All right," said Harry, trying to think of everything Professor Lupin had said. "Dementors are basically soulless, insolent prats that don't like you being happy," he said coldly. "When you get too near one, they suck all your happy thoughts from you leaving you with just the bad ones and it's that that makes you feel like... when you're around them."

As Harry was speaking, Hagrid was walking in and out of his hut with huge boxes of chocolate. Harry had the sick feeling that Hagrid also had dementors... but he continued without letting on.

"To scare them away, you use the Patronus Charm. When it works, it conjures an animal, different for everyone." At that, Harry had to fight back his subconscious trying to make him remember what his Patronus was. "The Patronus reflects your happiest thought and to make one, you have to think of a really happy memory and say 'Expecto Patronum.'"

"Well go on, Harry!" said Hagrid, beaming. "Demonstrate!"

Harry shot Hagrid a look of great contempt. What was going to make him actually feel any better? Hagrid's suggestion was the only thing that came to mind but he still didn't think it would work. Harry pointed his wand at some space between Parvati Patil and Pansy Parkinson, trying to dig up the thought of how half a million people had come to his sixteenth birthday, the huge birthday cake and all the talk about Lily and James into his head.

"Expecto Patronum!" he shouted. Barely more than a puff of silvery white mist came out of the tip of his wand. Harry remembered that that was he got when he first started learning the Patronus Charm. "Well it worked twice," said Harry, shrugging. He knew why it didn't work. Sirius was too strong an unhappy memory.

"Try again!" Hagrid insisted.

"Expecto Patronum," said Harry lazily, not even bothering to think of anything. Another small mist of silvery white stuff shot out of the tip of his wand.

"Er -- okay," said Hagrid, slightly dejected. He had obviously counted on Harry conjuring a huge Patronus for the class to gap and awe at but that was obviously not going to happen. The class continued -- and ended -- with everyone taking notes on how to conjure a Patronus and practicing. No one, not even Hermione, got beyond making one or two silvery white sparks in the air. Even feeling so terrible, Harry could still manage to get closer to a real Patronus.

"What," said Malfoy coldly to Harry as they went back to the castle (out of Hagrid's hearing, naturally), "the thought of your dead godfather too overbearing to make a Patronus?"

"You know, Hagrid was right," Harry started coolly. "If you're about to die again I may just not be there to save your skin."

Malfoy's eyes reduced to slits and he beckoned his cronies, Crabbe and Goyle, toward him and into the castle doors. Harry spat, hitting the back of Malfoy's shoe. Hermione looked at Harry like he just said a disgusting swear word. Ron laughed. Malfoy never found out what happened.

"I've just got to go to the bathroom," said Harry the next day.

It was just before Potions. Harry couldn't help it but he would make sure to not be late for Snape's class. Snape's decision as of late to totally ignore Harry's presence, an improvement in many ways, was not to be ruined.

"Go on," Harry said. "I'll catch up."

"All right," said Ron. "We're taking notes on Mind-Blanker Potions."

"Yes, I know, go to class," said Harry hotly.

Ron looked like Harry just insulted him and strode off with Hermione towards the dungeons. Harry set off towards the boy's bathroom. On the way, though, he heard someone's voice from inside an empty classroom.

"Yes," said the voice. "I have it."

Immediately thinking of the Book of Memories, Harry stopped dead in his tracks and stood beside the door, out of sight of whoever was inside.

"He'll not get it," it said. "I'll just... just take it... and..."

Harry straightened up with fear, suddenly realizing who it was: Wormtail.

"- it'll all be over fast," the voice quivered. It sounded mad, slightly psychotic (a perfect fit for Wormtail, Harry thought). "I - I'll bring it to you!" Wormtail then lowered to a whisper. "He - he will be pleased... yes... he will... or he would have been... had he been on our side... but that will never happen."

Harry heard something close, something that sounded too much like a book for Harry's comfort. He had no doubts that the "he" of whom Wormtail was speaking was Harry and that he wouldn't be pleased because Wormtail was going to bring the book to Voldemort... Many, many words mixed around in Harry's mind -- many of them he probably shouldn't say -- waiting to be shouted at Dumbledore as loud as Harry could manage it. This was the proof Harry needed, the proof that Wormtail was planning on stealing the book all along.

The door opened and in it's frame, stood Wormtail, shorter, paler and more pathetic than ever before, a smile on his face.

"Peter!" said Harry cheerily, his eyes wide with sarcastic happiness. "How are you!"

This had the effect of making Wormtail's smile drop faster than dead dragons out of the sky. Harry could see the Book of Memories clutched tightly in Wormtail's arms and it caused an uneasy feeling of writhing snakes in Harry's insides. He stared blankly at it, totally ignoring Wormtail, before --

"F-f-fine!" quivered Wormtail. "J-Just fine!"

"Going somewhere with that?" said Harry suspiciously.

"Just, bringing it to... Now, i-if you'll excuse me, James..."

"James?" said Harry, his brow furrowed and his blank eyes traveling from the book to Wormtail's scared, shaking face. He better be scared, Harry thought to himself, if he's going to try to steal it under my nose. But... why had Wormtail called me by my dad's name...

"Harry, then," said Wormtail hastily and he shot out of the doorway and down the corridor. Harry pulled out his wand and pointed it at Wormtail.

"Stupefy!" he shouted. A jet of light shot out of Harry's wand, moving very fast and hit his target square in the back.

Wormtail crumpled to the floor, the Book of Memories gliding a few feet beyond his outstretched hand. That was it. Now all he needed was Dumbledore to hear the story and Wormtail would be thrown out. Harry took a deep breath, wiping a drop of sweat off his brow. Harry walked towards the book. He picked it up and instantly --

His eyes forced themselves shut and blackness drowned any colors he could have hoped to see. A loud, terrible and extremely brief scream from a woman filled Harry's ears. The sound was so loud, so painfully loud that it caused Harry's head to jerk and when it finished, he saw a flash of Voldemort's face. It looked determined and fierce, satisfied and very happy, making Harry feel like he was just in another snowball fight. Voldemort's wand was pointed at Harry, except that Harry was not big at all -- he was about the size of a baby. And there was a dead woman on the floor with green eyes.

Before he could see or hear anymore, Harry's grip on the book loosened without a second thought and it hit the floor with a thud. Had he held on any longer, he might have seen it: how Voldemort got blasted the first time. Or was that just another one of his crazy thoughts? He stood for a minute, completely forgetting what he was doing standing in the middle of a corridor, Wormtail unconscious and the Book of Memories at his feet, his wand still out. He stared into space, dazed.

Just then, Harry heard footsteps and the next second, coming towards him was Dumbledore. He was walking, but he caught sight of Wormtail and his walk broke into a run.

"HARRY!" he shouted.

Harry mindlessly bent down and picked up the book again to show Dumbledore. Harry's eyes were forced shut once more and this time he saw a heart-wrenchingly brief image of his mom staring lovingly at him. The two of them were up in Harry's dormitory. Once again, his hand loosened it's grip due to shock and the book hit the floor. He shook his head rapdily to get rid of the thought.

Harry frantically pointed between the book and Wormtail saying stupidly, "He try steal book! He try steal book!"

"Go to class, Harry," said Dumbledore flatly.

"Are you mad?" said Harry, coming around. "I heard him saying he was going to bring the book to someone and saying someone else would be happy if he was on his hide. Then he comes out of the room and says 'Excuse me, James'" -- Harry made the same mistake Wormtail made -- "er, 'Harry.'"

"He said James, did he now?" said Dumbledore. Harry could see, amazingly, a sparkle glimmering behind Dumbledore's half-moon spectacles but like it had never done before, it drove Harry mad. At the moment, Harry felt more like cursing every part of Dumbledore, right down to his crooked nose.

"Yeah," said Harry scathingly, forgetting who he was talking to, "so what?"

"Do you know how many times your father caught Peter doing something dumb?"

"DUMB?" Harry bellowed. "He was stealing it to bring to Voldemort!"

At this, several nearby doors opened and many students poked their heads out to see what the commotion was. Harry knew perfectly well most wizards and witches still looked down upon actually saying Voldemort's name but he didn't care much for ettique, currently.

"Go to class, Harry," Dumbledore repeated.

"No," said Harry. "If you'll excuse me, I'll go do what I wanted to do in the first place. If you can imagine, I didn't think I'd run into Pettigrew trying to steal the book."

"And that would be?" asked Dumbledore, holding his hands in front of himself, waiting patiently for the answer.

"If you don't mind," said Harry hotly, turning on his heel and heading towards the bathroom, "I have to pee really bad."

"I don't like Dumbledore," said Harry later that day in the empty Gryffindor common room. He had been going over the situation with Ron and Hermione and it was now a little past midnight. Most everyone with a little common sense was already asleep. Harry had failed to mention what happened when he touched the book, however.

"You've said that a thousand times," said Ron sleepily.

"I know..." said Harry sheepishly, "But I just can't see what Dumbledore's thinking... unless he's helping Voldemort?"

"Oh don't even say that," said Hermione at once. "Harry, I'm starting to worry about you."

"Starting?" said Ron, staring at her like she lost her mind. "I've been worried about him since Sirius. Everyone is. Remember what Professor McGonagall said?"

"What did she say?" said Harry suspiciously. Ron's cheeks went red.

"Her and Dumbledore asked us to try and keep you in good spirits," said Hermione, because Ron didn't feel like saying it. "And they're right!" she insisted.

"Yeah, yeah..." said Harry dismissively.

"Can we go to bed, yet?" Ron asked.

"I'm going down there," said Harry, ignoring Ron.

"Going down where?" Ron asked, standing up to stretch and yawn. He bent down to scratch Crookshanks behind the ears, who purred softly.

"Down those chambers again."

"And?" Hermione asked sternly.

"And what?"

"And what if you see something even worse than your aunt and uncle and the basilisk?"

"I've got my wand and a will to live, don't I?"

Hermione gave Harry a look of pure desperacy that clearly said, "I don't like that idea, not at all."

"You're not stopping me," said Harry sharply. "Pettigrew's not walking out of here alive with that book as long as I'm still alive."

"Don't say that," said Hermione, now deeply concerned.

"Say what? 'As long as I'm still alive?' There, I said it again," Harry taunted.

"Don't go doing anything stupid, Harry!" Hermione pleaded.

"He's not getting it," said Harry determinedly.

"And what are you going to do?" Ron broke in. "Go down there, see something else that scares the daylights out of you? And then what? It's not down there. If it is, I'd like to know how he's getting passed seeing things that scare the daylights out of him, too."

There was a terrible silence.

"I touched the book twice," said Harry at last. "Both times my eyes closed themselves and I had the same unnerving visions I had that summer two years ago. The first time I saw Voldemort trying to kill me when I was one year old and the second I saw my mom looking at me in my dormitory... The book is controlling those things we -- I -- see down there, I know it."

"Great," said Hermione irritably. "And as soon as you figure the bloody thing out you come and tell us." She stood up quickly and stared heatedly at Harry. "I'm going to bed before you come up with an idea to get the three of us killed. Good night." Harry was reminded of a similiar line she had said once before.

"She's right, Harry," said Ron, turning from the now-empty staircase leading to the dormitories to Harry.

"So what?" said Harry, shrugging. "Good night."

Events from the very next day solidified Harry's decision to go down again. Defense Against the Dark Arts was especially irritating. Professor Delacour suggested Harry's scar was a warning and, well, he already knew that.

"I could have told you that," said Harry as he closed his book and rested his head on it.

"It hurts you when?" Professor Delacour asked calmly.

"Whenever Voldemort is around," said Harry and he watched as everyone's head flinched at the name. "And when I have a dream involving him."

"Does it... hurt now?" she asked.

"If he's that close," said Harry, reading her mind, "I'd be holding it, it would hurt so much."

"Has it hurt at all this year?"

Harry thought hard about the answer for that one. Yes, he remembered, it had hurt him twice. Now, should he tell and send the class into hysterics or hide it and let Voldemort come and kill him? The answer was simple.

"Twice," said Harry, feeling all eyes draw upon him. "Once on the train at the start of the year and once during a dream I had at night. Odd though, the dream didn't involve You-Know-Who."

"It seems to me that this scar is connected to You-Know-Who," said Professor Delacour intelligently. "Maybe it is residue from the curse he used and is most likely the spot where the curse hit." She went into deep thought, pacing back and forth in front of her desk. "The curse hits him, rebounds upon You-Know-Who, nearly killing him and the boy gets a scar," she muttered to herself. "It would be interesting to see what would have happened had your parents not gotten in the way," she then said, thinking outloud.

"It would also be interesting to see what would have happened had they not died," said Harry, feeling distinctly hot in the face and unable to stop himself.

Professor Delacour went very white.

There was a silence in which Harry felt the blood rising in his face. Perhaps he should not have said that? He turned to look at Ron and Hermione. Hermione was wearing an expression of utmost sorrow, as though she was restraining herself from comforting him with words or otherwise. If Harry was to be honest with himself, he wouldn't mind it but he would much rather the person be Cho and then he remembered that she wasn't speaking to him.

The bell that rang fifteen seconds later could not be more welcome but Harry had another thing to think of which was most unpleasant. What would life have been like had his parents not have died? He found it very hard, thinking of life with the Dursleys and how much he wished they would disappear (and how he was forced to live with them because his real family had been most viciously taken from him) to hide a tear or three that was itching to come out. He carried it with him all through the day and by dinner, was feeling extra miserable.

"Still thinking of going down there?" Ron asked. Harry felt smiling should be illegal, as Ron was doing plenty of it while munching on his food.

"Yes," said Harry at once.

"All right then," said Ron. "Hermione and I decided we're going so you don't decide to go too far and end up dead."

"And if you must know," Hermione cut in, finishing Ron's thoughts, "we're extremely worried about you."

"You and the rest of the world..." Harry muttered so quietly no one could hear.

"What was that?" Hermione asked.

"I said 'You and the rest of the world'," he repeated angrily.

"You have to put it to rest eventually, Harry," Hermione pleaded. "Sirius isn't coming back -"

"You make it sound SO EASY," said Harry furiously. "The least I can do is get Dumbledore to see the light and have Wormtail kicked out of here. He's insane for letting him stay and even more so after I saw him stealing it!"

"Can't say I don't agree," Hermione said timidly.

"Tonight at eleven," said Harry. "I want to see what's down there even if the book is somewhere else. Maybe there's something I didn't see in the last chamber. I saw the basilisk and just ran like hell."

"As you should have," Hermione snapped.

Harry agreed and, mostly because he felt too miserable, didn't show that he was thankful for Ron and Hermione's concern. He had a burning feeling he was going to see something even more awful this next time. Probably the only thing more frightening than the basilisk was a dementor or Voldemort. Harry shuddered at the thought of the worst experience he ever had with dementors: he had his soul sucked out through his mouth.

So at eleven, when everyone in their right mind finally left the Gryffindor common room and went to bed, Harry snatched his Dragonback, his Invisibility Cloak and what remained of his courage. A lot of it left him during the hour's wait.

"Stragglers," Harry muttered.

"They're doing what we should be doing," Hermione whispered fiercely.

"And that would be?" Harry asked.

"Sleeping!" she hissed.

"Great," said Harry. "Now let's go. I haven't got all night."

Hermione looked as if she might slap Harry for such a remark. She put her hand down from the look on Ron's face (which he hid from Harry). If a picture is worth a thousand words, then Ron's face said "don't get on his bad side," one hundred and sixty-six times. It was a quiet walk to the third floor corridor.

As usual, they hung on to the side of the trap door, all gripping the Dragonback and let go all at once, riding the broom safely to the bottom.

"Lumos!" they all said at once. The light from all their wands made it look like day in the dark, damp dungeons deep below the school.

Harry, not worried about anything at the moment, led the way out of the Devil's Snare room. There was nothing to speak off except a spider on the stone wall that Ron jumped at the sight of. Harry punched it with his fist and wiped the remains off with a little bit of water from his wand.

The flying key rooms yielded nothing but bad memories of what appeared in the next room. Harry had no wish to see the same unnerving scene with Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. He kept wondering whether his aunt really was a witch or whether there happened to be another Petunia Dursley.

All the while, he kept thinking that running into a hundred dementors might be a more pleasurable experience. At least then he wouldn't have to think the unthinkable. On second thought, Harry decided he must have been dumb to think that she was a witch. He was almost convinced... her name on the book list, everyone bugging him to ask, seeing her at Hogwarts (and in a strange situation no less). And to top it all off, he had been thinking of a bad memory about her just before it happened.

Harry pushed the door open to the giant chess board. There was nothing there that caught anyone's eye except a custard colored furball munching on something in the corner.

"Cappy!" shouted Hermione gleefully.

She dashed over to Cappy and snatched her up.

"Damn thing's still alive?" said Ron incredulously.

"Hey, they eat anything," said Harry, shrugging at Cappy. "Hagrid will be glad to know she's not dead. Three more rooms, come on!" he added, turning towards the exit.

Harry, Ron and Hermione walked as one into the troll room. It was empty as well except for a sudden coldness which washed over the three of them, making the hairs on the back of Harry's neck stand up.

"I don't like that," said Hermione, looking around the apparently empty room.

They all stood up to their full height, looking curiously around. Something wasn't right. They edged toward the middle of the room, where a cold wind blew through the room, putting out the light from their wands.

"Lumos!" Harry shouted and his wand was alight once again. He felt Ron clutch his free arm. "Maybe if you hold on tight enough, Ron, I may just pass out from loss of blood."

"Sorry," Ron muttered as he merely loosened his grip.

Harry began to feel light-headed, a feeling which he knew only to be the work of --

"Dementors," Ron said, his voice quivering. "I know it!"

"Don't be silly, Ron," said Hermione. "What would a dementor be doing down here?"

It took her only a short moment to see Ron's point. What was the basilisk and Harry's aunt and uncle doing down here? She, too, grabbed onto Harry's free arm. He wished he had something to grab on to as well and then he remembered that the Order of Merlin plaque probably wasn't going to cut it. It was slightly comforting to know that, as he peered around the still apparently empty room, the necklace dangling freely in the air was a reminder that he wasn't totally useless.

"Well what the hell are we standing here for," said Harry, hiding his own fear and turning around to the door on the opposite side of the room. "I'm not sticking around for dementors. Let's go."

"Great idea," said Ron as his grip tightened on Harry's arm again.

Harry didn't mind this time though as Ron's and Hermione's grip was assurance they relied on Harry to keep them safe. And truth be told, Harry was just as unexpecting of his Patronus as he was that day in Care of Magical Creatures.

"On second thought," said Harry, as another wave of iciness made him very aware of his heavy breath, "we should just leave."

"Even better idea," said Ron. Hermione seemed to be too intent on holding onto Harry for safety to speak.

"Such brave little souls," said an icy voice, icier than the chilled winds. "Would be a shame if they were to be taken from you. Hah, aha, ahahahahahaha!" The voice could hardly contain it's excitement.

Harry, Ron and Hermione stopped moving. They stopped thinking. Harry's heart froze, froze solid and would never thaw. A shiver, produced only by the coldest of icicles, tore through his spine. It was the same deadly voice he had heard moments before a dementor saw fit to part him with his soul.

"Come on," said Harry quickly, gripping Ron's wrist and turning towards the door leading back from where they came, except there was one problem. There was a dementor standing in their path.

Harry pointed his wand at the single dementor and shouted, "Expecto Patronum!" Little more than a puff of silvery gas emitted from his wand tip. He was too consumed by Sirius to concentrate on anything. "Don't just stand there!" he shouted desperately. "You two try!"

"Expecto Patronum!" shouted Ron and Hermione in unison.

Something large and silver shot out of Hermione's wand, resembling a cat. It bounded after the dementor but amazingly, the Patronus had no effect on the dementor.

"What was that?" said a voice they all could hear.

Harry bounded towards the dementor as well and tried stupidly to shove it out of the way. It was useless. The dementor easily overpowered him.

"No... no..." said another voice. Flashes of light filled his eyes and stopped abruptly as they started.

Harry was starting to drown in an all too familiar and unpleasant wave of cold, penetrating his skin, entering his body, burrowing itself inside his very soul. He felt limp.

"Me! No, please, take me instead!" Loud crying filled the air.

"STAND ASIDE, GIRL!"

Harry's eyes closed on their own and a flash of green light tore through the blackness. A barely visible dark figure, squirmed, twitched and then fell forward onto the floor, dead, as Harry's eyes opened again. The light of his wand had gone out.

Popping sounds all over the room made clear that dementors were Apparating as fast as possible into the room, surrounding Harry, Ron and Hermione.

By the feeble light of one burning candle, the dementor and the door became a blur of white fog, obscuring his sight to nothing any more useful than a dead rat. And then the candle went out, throwing them into total blackness. As much as he tried to blink as fast as possible to clear his vision, it was also useless. His hearing reduced to a steady stream of screams he thought might be coming from Ron and Hermione. Ron's and Hermione's grip loosened and he felt their hands slowly slide down his arm and off his hand.

He was alone once again. The cold, rattling breath of the dementors drew nearer. He tried to push and shove them out of his way but they were coming ever closer. There was not an inch of the room not occupied by one of them.

"And now..."

The green light flashed again but it was only sudden. After, blackness filled Harry's eyes. A faint picture of Dumbledore bent over a limping Dudley. He heard Mr. Weasley screaming a charm he couldn't make out. Green light flashed again and Harry saw a picture of Mrs. Weasley's face. She fell to the floor as if dead. More green light. It bounced off the figure of Mr. Weasley as it hit, ricocheting off into the distance. He, too, fell as if dead and Harry could once again see the dementors. They were starting to more become foggy, more faded.

"Do nothing unless I command you!" a voice cried.

"The dementors will do it. Trust me!"

Harry couldn't think of anything reasonable to say and said as loud as he could, "I'm not gonna die this time... not gonna... die..." It didn't come out as anything louder than a faint whisper.

His legs turned to jelly, unable to support his weight and when the nearest dementor's breath played across his face like the sick smell of vomit, they collapsed.

"Don't give up, now!" cried another voice. The voices were coming from all directions.

"You fight them, boy."

"She wants to see you... it will be all right... hold on..."

"Your parents are coming."

There were voices from different people and voices out of order from faint memories. It was almost exactly as it had been two summers ago. He was going to die again and there was no mark of ancients to save him.

"Stand aside! I will kill them! They are mine!"

Something in him didn't want to die. It didn't want to give up. There was nothing he could do, nothing to save him. Someone would eventually realize they were missing and come to find them... but it would be too late...

The nearest dementor slowly lifted up it's hood and took one step towards Harry. The putrid breath billowing out of it's mouth made Harry feel, if possible, more sick. It stuck out a cold, clammy and rotting hand and wrapped it around Harry's head. It was going to give him the Dementor's Kiss. A paralyzing terror locked him into staring at the scabbed skin where there should have been eyes.

It pulled Harry's head near it's own. Harry's vision began spinning and time paused for hours with the dementor an inch from executing it's kiss.

"NO!" he shouted with every last ounce of his fiber.

But his vision went black as night and his head became light as air, falling to the floor.

"Harry!"

Someone poured ice-cold water onto his face.

"Wake up, Harry..."

Harry choked on the water and let out an almighty cough. Icy water dribbled down the sides of his mouth. The person put a hand under his neck and pulled up. Harry's eyes opened. Professor Dumbledore was leaning over him. He immediately thought of being expelled, having been caught out of bed at night once again, in a most strange situation and felt the blood rushing to his face. Nothing, however, could be scarier than a near death experience.

"I'm not going to tell you what is down here," said Dumbledore calmly. "You may remember that I said I would have to insist on harsher punishments than detention -"

"Please, Professor," said Harry quickly, "we were -"

"You were trying to what? Come down here, find the Book of Memories and then what?" There was a tone of disappointment mixed with anger in his voice that made Harry feel far worse than if Dumbledore had just expelled him outright. Harry hadn't thought of that. What good would finding the book do? Dumbledore clearly wasn't going to come to reason and kick Wormtail out.

Confused, Harry shook the thought away and looked around for Ron and Hermione. They weren't there.

"Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger are safe and sound," said Dumbledore, watching Harry look around him. "I woke you up last so that I may have a few words."

"Wormtail -"

"- is here for reasons... which I will not explain. I think it is clear that the book is being held here so Lord Voldemort cannot obtain it. I will also not explain what it is that you are seeing down here so that you will not continue your troubles." Dumbledore stood up. "As you have sufficiently had your wits scared out of you, I feel I don't need to expell you at - this - time. I implore you... to not come down here again." He put enough finality in the last bit to end the conversation. "Now, would you please ride that admirable Dragonback back to the castle and join your classmates for lunch?"

After hearing that Ron and Hermione gave Cappy back to Hagrid (and agreeing they never want another puffskein as a pet for as long as they live), Harry told Ron and Hermione what Dumbledore had said about Wormtail and the book. They were now in full agreement with Harry that they needed to find out what exactly Voldemort needed the book for but they had a strong feeling it would be involved in giving him a body.

After dinner, they spent a good amount of time in the library looking for anything they could find about the Book of Memories. Neither of them cared much about Harry getting expelled -- including Harry.

"It's definitely down there," said Hermione fully confidently. "It's... well... this book is just really odd," she added, screwing her eyes up in confusion.

"What is it then?" snapped Ron.

"It, well... it's got a bunch of rituals to revive people who have died, but magically, not naturally. For example by dementors or magical imprisonment in limbo... whatever that is. But... that book that said the ritual causing that baby to explode because it was done with the wrong soul... that's just proof that playing with this book is dangerous. Harry, maybe we should just... forget about it? This stuff sounds like ancient magic and that's supposed to be very dangerous."

"Forget about it?" said Harry blankly. "Sirius is dead. I don't have anything to lose -"

"- except... your LIFE," said Ron sharply staring at Harry, with a look of utmost concern on his face.

Harry seemed to be considering the thought but upon reflection, it terrified him and he fell silent. For a few desperate seconds he had considered risking his own life.

Harry resorted to clutching the Order of Merlin plaque. It continued to do no good. There was an emptiness lurking inside him that continued to shout "you killed Sirius." Sirius being dead was no longer a burden, though. Instead, it was the pang of guilt that Harry caused it that tortured him. He couldn't save his parents either and the more he thought about it, the more he blamed himself for their death. He didn't take note of how irrational the thought was, but he didn't care much about being rational lately. They died to save him -- him, Harry -- and that's all he cared about. If only he wasn't... And Sirius was willing to kill Wormtail and serve a life term in Azkaban. It was the very least that Harry could to do pay Sirius back.

It wasn't all bad. At the very least, Sirius wasn't going to spend a year being driven to insanity. He died quickly. Such were the thoughts of a sixteen year old driven mad by recent events and he knew the dream about Sirius shouting that Harry killed him would come back.

Hermione kept flipping through pages, Ron peering over her shoulder. Harry sat quietly in a chair opposite them, watching. There was nothing in Ancient Book of the Second Century, only a mention in Frantic Designs: Books Through the Ages about the beautiful cover, Strange Magical Phenomenon only mentioned that the cover seems to glitter sometimes and Books and How They Bewilder insisted that the Book of Memories didn't exist. It was when Harry saw the cover of a book titled The Undead: How To Take Out The 'Un' that he had an idea.

"Hey," he said, looking up at Ron and Hermione, his eyes widening. "Why can't we just use the book to revive Sirius like you did for me?"

"No good," said Hermione gloomily, sighing and shaking her head. It looked like she thought of that too. Harry went back to staring at the table. "Not strong enough. Your soul wanted to come back. His doesn't."

Harry supposed that if he could think of that, Dumbledore might have. But then --

"How's it going to bring Voldemort back to power?" Harry asked, looking up at Hermione once again.

"That's why we're here, isn't it?" she said, flipping through page after page.

Madam Pince, the librarian, whom Harry thought resembled an under-fed vulture, walked over to them. She was almost as thin as Professor Trelawney.

"Come now," she said irritably. "To bed. All of you."

"I just want to check this book out," said Hermione at once, looking up and holding out Necromancy: Outlawed or Outgrown.

"Professor Dumbledore said you aren't allowed to take out any books," said Madam Pince firmly. She suddenly looked furious with herself. "He also said I'm not supposed to tell you that!" Then she looked even more angry. "Damn! He said I'm not supposed to tell you that he said I'm not supposed to tell you!" At this point she stomped her foot. "Damn! Fine! Take it and go."

Harry, Ron and Hermione walked as innocent as possible out of the library, all of them hiding a strong fit of laughter, Hermione having a dull smile on her face. Madam Pince was never one to swear.

Since it was already close to bed time, they nodded their heads in agreement to just go to bed and talk about it in the morning. They would also be visiting the library.

When Harry got back to his dormitory, the small, grubby package from the Dursleys was sitting on top of his bed yet again. Yet again, he tossed it into the garbage. He never knew them to be so persistent but perhaps they wanted to make sure that he would be where he might begin to feel better so that he would not end up coming home miserable and edgy. They'd had enough of his magic at home...