Imperio

Chapter Five: In Every Strand of Water

Concentrate.

Harry could practically hear Snape's voice snarling at him. Even though it was only a mental voice as Harry sifted through the streams, allowing them to flow around him. Random patterns of hot and cold--some heavier than others; some fast, some slow. But no matter how hard he concentrated, none of them felt familiar.

Except for Snape's and Sirius'.

It had all seemed simple enough when Remus arrived for dinner, and Snape had immediately volunteered him to be Harry's next test subject. But no matter how hard he tried to figure out which part of this vast ocean was uniquely Remus, he couldn't. Sirius' stream, as it always was, was beside him, just within reach.

Harry brushed his fingers through the warm water, smiling a little as he felt the presence of his godfather, even stronger than Snape's, even though Harry and the professor were sharing Harry's mind at the moment. There was a tickle of acknowledgment in his consciousness. None of them had discovered how Sirius knew Harry was interacting with his stream--or even if he was aware in the usual sense of the word.

A reflex, Snape had opined during their last session. But even if it was, Harry was fascinated by the connection they shared. He hadn't had a chance to explore a similar connection to Snape, since Snape was always with him when he entered the streams lately.

Maybe they were all connected somehow...

Or perhaps connections were forged along lines of friendship... or family...

Sweeping deeper through Sirius' stream, he concentrated again, ignoring Snape's mental questioning. The stream seemed without end though as Harry forged his way through it, being intentionally careful since he couldn't really know how his godfather would be affected outside this non-reality. And yet... this end of the stream was different--not entirely Sirius.

And as Harry pressed onward, with Snape breathing down his neck--metaphorically-speaking of course--he realized why this bit of stream felt different. And he had no idea how he knew it, but this was Remus. Every bit of it as Harry stretched along with it.

Lupin?

Snape's question startled him; he withdrew a little bit but didn't pull back completely.

Yeah. How did you know?

Your grin is quite ridiculous. You have only managed to locate his stream, you realize; not manipulate it in any way.

Harry shrugged. I can do that. I've done it with yours and Sirius'.

Are you waiting for me to applaud you?

Harry sighed. It wouldn't hurt you once to actually say well done, you know.

Snape's lips took on the sour expression that Harry had grown so familiar with.

Yeah, I know. Harry turned back to Remus' stream. You would hate for me to get a swelled head or something.

Snape didn't retort and Harry was glad he didn't. He preferred not to spar with the professor. Especially when he was trying to concentrate.

It was a very odd sensation as Harry put all his effort into moving Remus' stream through the vast ocean. It was nothing like when he manipulated Sirius'--or even Snape's. Remus seemed disinclined to follow his orders.

This is why I insisted you learn to wield the Imperius.

Harry nodded, his lips pressed tightly together as he forced himself not to shy away from uttering the Unforgiveable. Sirius had told him he needn't feel guilty; he had to do this. What other choice did he have?

But of course there were always choices. Hadn't Dumbledore himself said so once?

He didn't have to destroy Voldemort.

But if he didn't, more people would die. He understood that quite well since Cedric. And since he'd almost lost Sirius.

Harry tried to shove that thought away, but something deep inside him latched onto it, onto the revenge he'd thirsted for so recently, and it seemed almost out of his control as the word formed in his mind.

Imperio.

And Remus' stream complied, though Harry could feel its resistance.

Reluctance.

Harry felt a spark of irritation. Didn't Remus realize that he was trying to practice? Of course he did; it was the entire reason for this little jaunt with Snape. And Remus had agreed hadn't he?

Harry envisioned the stream, forcing it to move farther away from Sirius. When it resisted, Harry pushed harder, diving deeper within his core of magic and forcing the stream to separate. It would do as Harry wanted. He would make Remus obey.

Harry felt a tremble along Sirius' stream as well, but Harry blocked out the interference, all his efforts tied into trying to remove Remus' stream. To isolate it as Snape's had once been.

The waters surrounding him were beginning to churn. Frustrated, he slashed his arms through the streams, ordering them to be still. And they were; all but Remus'. And Sirius'.

Harry scowled at the protest.

He was vaguely aware of the loss of Snape's presence, but he paid no attention. He didn't need Snape here.

And if Remus felt some discomfort, it had to be worth it. Remus wanted Voldemort to be gone just as much as the rest of them.

So Harry thrust Sirius' stream aside, snarling when it splashed back at him. He flung his arms out, slinging the warm stream as far away as he could and dove into Remus' slip of water, his mind whirling as the water spun around him, faster and faster--trying to dislodge him.

Remus would obey. Harry had ordered it.

But as Harry drew up every bit of strength he had, gathering water around him in a funnel so that the ocean spun around him, he was jerked backward.

Snape was beside him, his black eyes wide, his chest heaving. Potter! Stop!

No! Harry yanked himself away, his hands already extended to fling Snape away as well. I can do this! I can make him obey!

He'll die!

The words were nonsensical but so desperate they startled Harry just long enough for Snape to grab both of his arms and give him a sharp shake.

End the spell now!

Harry didn't want to. The magic was yearning within him, trying to scream its way to Remus' stream. He had ordered it. He had to make Remus comply. He tried to twist away, but Snape held fast and against his will--against all the power telling him to make Remus' stream heed his command, he was forcibly propelled from the ocean, nearly slamming into one of the chairs in the parlor as the room solidified around him.

He grabbed the edge of a table before he fell, his breaths coming heavy and fast.

"What the hell did you do that for?" he cried, his shouts reduced to rasps as he tried to catch his breath. Snape was on his knees, his hair disheveled and his face scarlet.

"I didn't think you wanted Lupin's blood on your hands!" he shouted back just as hoarsely.

"What?"

Snape flung his arm out and Harry's gaze followed where he pointed. Remus was lying flat on his back, his face white. Sirius was kneeling over him, though he was staring at Harry, his mouth slack, his own features pinched and pallid.

But Harry couldn't process what he was seeing. "You told Remus it might weaken him," he shot back, his words aimed at Snape.

He gasped as an iron grip tightened around his bicep.

"It isn't weakening him. It's killing him, you stupid boy!" Snape hissed in his face. "End the damn spell!" Harry's teeth rattled as Snape shook him.

"Let go!" Stumbling himself, Sirius elbowed Snape out of the way. "Remus is coming round. Get away from!" he ordered fiercely when Snape didn't move. Snape snarled something unintelligible and went to stand over Remus, his wand waving concentrated patterns over the still body.

Sirius' hands replaced Snape's and he turned Harry to face him. "Harry, end the spell. Remus can't breathe; do you understand me? He can't breathe."

Harry stared at Sirius, the words tangled up somewhere in the streams that Harry could still feel spinning, uncontrolled, in his mind. He flicked his thoughts outward, and there was Remus' stream--not completely separated from the rest of the ocean like he'd wanted... but it was feeble somehow. A trickle that looked like it had nearly dried up.

"Harry." Sirius gripped his arms; Harry looked into his godfather's eyes. "End the spell... please."

The rush of water seemed to crush him as Harry breathed, "Finite." The vocal wasn't necessary; the trickle was already turning into a full-fledged stream again, Sirius' stream crowding in to help. And water from all directions.

Tonks, Harry guessed. And maybe some of the Weasleys. Shacklebolt. Whoever was with him, Remus was no longer alone.

Harry's chest was tight as he tried to tear his eyes from his godfather's. Sirius was gazing at him, the grey shadowed and bare as he searched Harry's face.

"Potter nearly killed you, but if you wish to get up, by all means..."

It was as if a tidal wave of arctic water had swept him up. Harry turned toward Snape's acid drawl. Remus' limbs were twitching now--in spasms that made Harry feel sick.

But the dark spot in his core surged up again, taunting him.

Remus volunteered. He isn't dead.

Harry hadn't had a choice.

Remus shouldn't have tried to win.

Remus turned his head then; his complexion was gray. His eyes met Harry's.

Fear and confusion--sharp on his face. On Remus' face.

Sirius was tugging Harry's shoulder, but Harry couldn't move. "He's all right now... Harry?"

Remus murmured something that only Snape appeared to hear.

"You were being suffocated," Snape said without a fleck of emotion, finally bending down with a potion in hand. And Remus was still twitching.

"Harry--"

Harry wrenched himself away from his godfather; careened toward the stairs. The clatter of his footsteps was drowned out by the roaring in his ears.

--

Sirius stared after his godson, his heart slamming against his ribcage. Remus was gurgling incoherently--or maybe it only seemed that way in Sirius' lightheaded state. He latched onto the back of a chair to steady himself. As if suspended in a cauldron of Sticking Solution, he turned to Remus.

He'd watched his friend struggling for air--gasping at the end there as the life was forced out of his body. And he'd had no idea how Harry was doing it.

Harry couldn't have done that...

Sirius hadn't even made the connection until he'd disrupted Snape's mind bond with Harry. He'd probably almost killed Snape by doing that as well, he realized. Snape hadn't mentioned it though. He'd taken one look at Remus and had gone straight back into Harry's mind.

Remus was breathing now--rasping breaths but he was alive. His color was returning. And Snape was scowling down at him, probably daring him to attempt to die on his watch.

Sirius jerked two handfuls of hair, only stopping when he realized he must look quite mad.

He swallowed down the burning swell in his throat, lost.

Snape looked up then, his dark eyes calculating things that Sirius couldn't even begin to fathom. And he didn't want to. He didn't want to know that it would only get worse.

Worse was here now.

Trusting Remus to Snape's care, Sirius turned abruptly and followed in Harry's wake.

The air was trembling when Sirius halted just inside Regulus' room. The figures scattered round the room--on the desk and the shelves--all of them were dancing. Harry was hunched over the desk, his shirt stretched taut over his back, his head bowed.

His arms were shaking as well; he looked as if he were trying to break the heavy maple desk in half.

"Harry," Sirius whispered into the vibration; cleared his throat and tried again.

"Go away."

Knowing Harry had actually said it, made it no easier to comply. He took half a step forward. The sound of glass popping made him freeze. He drew a slow breath... let it out again.

"Remus is all right now. You couldn't have known--"

"Oh yeah?" A metal cup along one of the shelves rattled. "I knew it was probably hurting him." Harry swept a vicious hand across the desk top, dislodging quills and a small metal box; it clanged against the wooden floor. "But he agreed! And he wouldn't obey me!"

"And I know it's the dark magic--the fucking curse," Harry raved while Sirius stood there, too horrified to move. "And I almost killed him! I'm as good as Voldemort!"

Harry had seized a glass trophy in his hand--one of Regulus' most prized.

"Harry..." It was the only word Sirius' brain would allow him to say.

"I know I am!" Harry went on, his rage beginning to truly frighten Sirius. "Don't try to tell me I'm not. I was suffocating him and you were trying to tell me to stop too, weren't you?" he demanded, still facing the opposite wall. The trophy shook in his fisted grip. "I could feel you trying to stop me and I didn't care!"

"Harry please--"

"No!" The single word rattled the entire room. As Harry spun sharply, the trophy he was holding was suddenly launched through the air. Sirius moved swiftly, but he still felt the rush of wind as it sailed past his ear and smashed into the wall behind; shattering into a thousand tiny shards.

The tinkle of breaking glass echoed in the silence.

Sirius and Harry stared at the wall, neither one moving. Harry's mouth opened and closed twice and then, slowly his shoulders slumped. He spun again, this time without coordination. Sirius moved with him, blocking his exit. His godson tried to push past, his words incoherent and wet. But Sirius wrapped his arms tightly around him, tighter while Harry flailed.

Until finally, when the effort was too great, the struggles quieted.

Sirius didn't loosen his hold, instead twined his fingers through the hair at the back of his Harry's head and brought him in even closer until his godson's face was pressed into his shoulder.

"I've got you," Sirius murmured into hair that was clumped with sweat. Harry's chest heaved, but he made absolutely no sound. "You're all right," Sirius breathed, and hoped that the words didn't feel as empty to Harry as they did to him.

He would be all right. Sirius would see to it. To hell with the realities and to Harry's newfound mental powers. Even if they could destroy Voldemort.

Not at Harry's expense.

Sirius wouldn't let anything hurt this kid. This vulnerable, precious child.

He'd kill Voldemort himself if it meant Harry could live without burden. He didn't care what it might take, so long as Harry was safe.

--

When it seemed that Harry could stand without assistance--and that he no longer meant to bolt, Sirius guided him to the bed; he sat across from him, on the camp bed they'd set up for Ron. There was barely enough room for Sirius' knees, but he hardly cared at the moment.

Harry was determined not to look at him.

Sirius didn't force him; he reached forward, his thumb brushing away the tears clinging to Harry's cheeks. Harry looked up then, his green irises ringed in red. "I'm sorry," he said thickly. "I don't..." He shook his head as moisture gathered in the corners of his eyes. He pulled his face away. "I'm sorry."

Sirius fingers flexed uselessly. "The dark magic--"

"Is that Pettigrew's excuse too?" Harry asked hoarsely.

Sirius swallowed. "No," he said, his voice just as strained. "It isn't the same."

Harry turned, his eyes unfocused as he stared at the spot where the trophy had hit the wall. "I was suffocating him," he whispered.

Sirius' fingers dug into the tops of his knees as he leaned forward, but Harry refused to look at him. "You stopped... Harry, you didn't know it would happen." Floundering, he said quietly, "Remus is all right."

Harry said nothing, his Adam's apple jerking. He tucked his arms into his stomach as if he was in physical pain. "It would have torn your face up."

Sirius couldn't deny it. Concussion at the very least. The speed...

He cleared his throat; too loud in the silent room. "How do you feel now?"

Harry shook his head.

"Do you..." Sirius shifted, needing to know if the dark magic's influence had gone completely and feeling it was an intrusion to ask. It would be easier if Harry would look at him. "Do you still feel angry?"

The answer was a barely audible, "...no..."

Sirius's fingers uncurled. He sighed. "We shouldn't have asked you to do this."

Harry didn't even protest. He was still staring at the wall.

Sirius put a hand on his godson's knee. "We'll find another way."

Harry finally looked at him. His eyes were vacant as he nodded.

--

Sirius knew he should go downstairs; make certain that Remus really was all right. But even though Harry was asleep, he couldn't seem to make himself move.

He couldn't take his eyes off Harry.

And Harry was fretful, mumbling things that Sirius couldn't understand. He'd kicked his blanket off several times; refusing to keep them in place no matter how many times Sirius pulled them up again.

Sirius was sitting in the same spot, his chin propped in one hand as he watched his godson. He tugged the blanket to Harry's shoulder again, lingering to brush his fingers lightly through the dark sweep of hair obscuring his scar. It was still swollen, a constant reminder that Voldemort was out there somewhere, waiting for them.

Waiting for Harry.

Carefully, Sirius pulled his hand away. He gave the blanket another gentle tug and with a deep sigh, pushed himself up. He paused at the doorway at another mumble. Harry's head tossed against the pillow and his fringe spilled over his forehead once more. The deep ache in Sirius' chest felt like it would tear him apart as he turned away.

Remus was sitting in one of the chairs, his head to one side, quietly snoring.

He could see Snape in the library adjacent, bending over one the huge volumes that Sirius' father had so loved. Snape looked up as the last step creaked. Sirius tried to ignore the deep furrow along the other man's brow but it was obvious that whatever Harry was going through, even Snape was worried.

Sirius hesitated, vacillating between parlor and library but he finally veered toward Snape's makeshift room, stopping just outside the door.

"He is still intact, I presume?" The sneer was on the surface only and it only increased Sirius' worry.

"He's asleep..."

Snape pursed his lips briefly.

Sirius cleared his throat, but even so he sounded like he'd caught a bad case of laryngitis. "This can't continue."

"No," Snape agreed.

Sirius blinked at him.

Snape's sneer came back. "Even I do not believe Potter would be well served by embracing the dark arts."

"And because he won't..." Sirius shook his head, unable to finish.

"The darkness will fight for control. And it will win." Snape was no longer sneering. "And if Potter loses himself to dark magic, the Dark Lord has won."

"Harry," Sirius said with strain, "isn't simply the answer to Voldemort. We are going find another way because I refuse to lose him."

"Yes."

Sirius narrowed his eyes, trying to decipher Snape's blank features. "I don't care what it takes."

Snape turned back to his book. "I will contact the remaining members of the Order."

Sirius stared at the back of Snape's head for a long time. When he finally turned away, Remus was sitting up, smoothing wrinkles from his faded robes; his eyes still full of exhaustion.

"How do you feel?" Sirius had no idea why he was whispering.

"Severus said I shouldn't suffer any permanent damage." A wry smile. "I think he was a bit disappointed."

Unable to return even the tiny bit of humor, Sirius sat on the edge of the sofa. He tangled his fingers tightly together. Stringing together an entire sentence was difficult. "Harry didn't know it was having that effect on you."

Remus frowned. "Of course he didn't."

Sirius dropped his eyes to his thumbs; squeezed them until they hurt. "The dark magic... it's difficult to control."

"I know that... Sirius?"

Sirius closed his eyes briefly. He looked up when he could open them again. Remus face was filled with worry, but Sirius didn't want to talk about this; not now. "Is Tonks waiting for you?" he asked instead. Remus' brow slumped in confusion, but he shook his head.

"She's on maneuvers..."

Sirius nodded, pushing the lump down with difficulty. "Will you stay the night, then?" he asked quietly, his voice uncomfortably hoarse as his eyes flicked to the staircase. "I... need him to see that you're all right."

"Yes, of course... Sirius," Remus said as he leaned forward, his brown eyes sincere and easy to read, "I don't blame him."

Sirius gripped Remus' shoulder as he stood. "Thanks..." Without waiting for an acknowledgement, he went back to his godson.

--

The room was dim when Harry opened his eyes; hazy light just beginning to seep through the grime on the window. He stared at the blurry lump across from him as the fog of sleep persisted. Listless, he felt around for his glasses, found the smooth holly of his wand instead. He ran his thumb down its carved length; gripped it. It felt just the same as it always did--no leering darkness to pull him in; not like Snape's wand.

And nothing like what he'd felt yesterday when he'd stood hunched over the desk in the corner, his back to Sirius.

He released the wand; it thumped back onto the table. He turned his head toward the camp bed again, knowing it was Sirius. Harry told himself it was stupid to have this huge lump in this throat. Sirius wasn't angry.

Even though Harry had hurled a trophy at him.

And nearly killed Sirius' best friend.

Harry blinked several times and then told himself to grow up.

"Hey," Sirius' sleep-roughened voice startled him. The blurry shape rose up a bit. "How long have you been awake?"

"Not long."

Blankets and sheets rustled. "Lumos... it's not quite six." Sirius swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He leaned over so that Harry could make out his features; his smile was as warm as ever. "Would you like to sleep a bit longer?"

Harry shook his head. Sirius gave his upper arm a comforting squeeze and rescued the glasses from the table. Harry slipped them on; scooted up so that he was sitting. If it had been any other day, he would have smiled at the state of his godfather's hair.

"Are you hungry?"

Harry shrugged. Food was the furthest thing from his mind but no need to worry Sirius over anything else. "You didn't have to sleep in here," he said quietly, his attention on the lines crossing his palm.

"I wanted to though."

Harry looked up when Sirius sat at the foot of his bed.

He settled his hand on Harry's ankle, which had escaped the blanket. "I was worried about you." He studied Harry's face. "Are you feeling better?"

Harry nodded. Sirius smiled again and patted his ankle a few times, then readjusted the blanket so that his foot was covered too. Harry had no idea why that should make his throat ache again but he ignored it. "Is Remus...? He's all right?"

"Perfectly all right," Sirius assured him. "Snape examined him and gave him a few potions. He'll be at breakfast."

Harry's stomach danced at that, but he was hardly going to refuse to see Remus. He wanted to see Remus, he chided himself. Of course he did.

"I spoke with Snape last night." Sirius' tone was hesitant and Harry braced himself for whatever scathing opinion Snape had formed. "We both agreed that we need to find a different way to fight Voldemort," Sirius went on, surprising Harry for a moment.

And he didn't say anything as he tried to figure out the best way to respond. He'd vaguely agreed to that before Sirius had suggested he go to sleep, he knew. But somehow, he didn't want Sirius to think he wasn't strong enough to do this. He should be strong enough to do this.

"You shouldn't have to fight dark magic," Sirius said gently. "No one should have to do that." He smiled a little. "Not unless you're an Auror..."

Harry stared at his palms again, wondering what had ever made him think he could be an Auror. If one Unforgiveable made him lose control so easily...

"Snape is going to contact the rest of the Order. All of them will want to help."

Harry nodded, not knowing what else to do.

The mattress dipped as Sirius turned to face him fully; Harry bent his legs out of the way. Sirius pretzled his, leaning in until Harry had no choice but to look at him. "I don't want you to think this is any reflection of who you are," he said, his voice intense in a way that Harry wasn't used to.

"If you weren't such a good person Harry James, you wouldn't be feeling as guilty as you do. And you wouldn't be worried about Remus." Sirius captured his chin when Harry looked away. "You've been asked over and over to do things that you shouldn't have had to do. Because there was no one to say no--not to Dumbledore, and not to you, yourself. But I'm here now, and whatever it takes, I'll find another way."

Harry couldn't speak.

Sirius smiled, his grey eyes filled with affection. "Taking care of you is in the job description. Or so Molly says."

Harry's laugh was half-sob. He pressed his forehead into his knees, relieved, embarrassed and ashamed in various measures, shifting by the second. Sirius' fingers wound through his hair.

It was a long minutes before Sirius murmured, "Yeah?"

The one word was filled with dozens of questions. But it was Sirius who was asking and Harry found it easier to answer than he would have thought. He lifted his head. "Yeah," he agreed quietly. Sirius nodded, and as Harry took in his godfather's pleased expression, it was easier to focus on the relief.