Secrets from the Future

(A/N: Dear friends, I'm really happy to know that you liked the previous chapter. I especially would like to thank those who have left a review, like Bexis, Fbline, IC04 and Bluezy. I need to thank Fbline and Bluezy in particular, because they've also visited my personal blog! Thanks a lot! Now, I'm proud to publish chapter 15, which I hope, you're going to find extremely interesting...)

Chapter 15. UNITED AS ONE HEART.

Harry closed his eyes, forcing himself to not think about what had just happened that evening. For hours, he had been sitting under a large oak. At his feet, the grass glistened under the clear light of the moon. Over his head, a soft wind shook the long and knotty branches of the tree.

After running away from the library, he had wandered around the castle, looking for a quiet place to hide... far from everybody and everything. With trembling hands and his heart in turmoil, he had reached the seventh floor without realizing it. Walking in front of a large tapestry with Barnaba the Barmy trying to teach trolls to dance the ballet, the Room of Requirement came into to his mind. He walked up and down the corridor three times when a door materialized on the empty wall in front of him. Entering the room, Harry found himself in the Forbidden Forest. The moon and stars were shining in the sky, the trees surrounded him; everything emanated a halo of peace.

Amazed, he walked through the expansive forest. Sure that he was far enough from the entrance, he leaned back against a tree and collapsed into a sitting position, completely exhausted. The memory of what he had just done, and the realization of what he was nearly about to do, was unbearable for him. The sense of guilt tormented him.

The image of Theo lying down on the floor, unconscious and covered in burns, replayed again and again in his mind, without mercy. Each time, he thought about Hermione, about her horrified eyes; he felt himself to be the most pathetic human being in the world.

More than once, the idea of fleeing appealed to him... running away, leaving Hogwarts and his friend forever, living as an outcast, just like Mark Evans did many years ago.

Certainly this is what Voldemort expects me to do... choosing the easier path... running away like a coward, Harry said to himself. Far away from Dumbledore and from the ones I love.

After thinking about it, he realized that the only wise thing to do was to remain there and face the consequences of his actions. They would give him detention. In the worst case, they might even expel him. He knew however that his destiny was already set and his academic was no longer paramount.

Harry opened his eyes again. He felt agitated and confused. He looked at the sky and realized that it was probably really late. He stood up weakly, waited a few minutes there, then returned to the door in slow steps. When he closed it behind him, the door suddenly disappeared, camouflaging itself with the wall.

The corridors were deserted and most of the torches were extinguished. All around the castle, everything was silent. Harry returned to Gryffindor Tower without encountering anyone along the way. When he entered the common room, he saw the fireplace was still burning. He moved a few steps then froze, petrified from his surprise.

"Harry, you're back!" Hermione ran toward him and threw her arms at his neck, hugging him tight.

A tremendous feeling of relief and warmth he felt in his heart. Harry tightened his embrace as well, closing his eyes as he tasted that found-again feeling of endless sweetness... a joy that he thought lost forever.

"I was so worried about you," said Hermione, moving away from him and staring directly into his eyes. "Ron and I have been looking everywhere for you. We even worried that something awful had happened to you."

"I... I'm fine," Harry stuttered, swaying his gaze from her. "I just needed to be left alone for a while, that's all."

Hermione stared at him intensely, as if to make sure that he really was feeling fine. Then she held his hand and guided him in front of the lit fireplace. Both sat on the sofa, but Harry started feeling uneasy and moved his hand away, concentrating his gaze on the dancing flames.

"W-what happened after I left the library. Theo is... is he...?"

"They took him to the hospital wing," Hermione promptly replied. "Madam Pomfrey has held him back for the night. Apparently, he has several bad scorches, but nothing that can't be fixed. He'll be fine."

Harry nervously passed his hands through his hair. "I was nearly going to kill him..."

"You'd never have been able to do it."

"And if I didn't stop in time?" he replied. "A monster! That's what I've become!"

"You can't be serious! You're not a monster!" Hermione held his face with both hands, forcing him to turn toward her. "It was just a bad accident. You didn't want to hurt him intentionally."

Harry felt comforted by her words, spoken with determination. He felt as though he was beginning to resurface from an abyss. "Please, Hermione, promise me that we won't fight anymore," he whispered, staring at her with tenderness. "Promise me that there won't be anymore misunderstandings between us."

The girl smiled and her eyes lit with joy. "We've been two real idiots, haven't we? These last weeks have been hell, for both of us. We've wasted so much time, bickering. How could I've doubted you, even if only for a second?"

Harry felt his heart melting with love. He moved closer and hugged her tight. "I wish we could go back in time and not make the same mistakes. You're right, I've been a complete idiot. I got stubborn with this silly thing about the dreams, without realizing that I was pushing you away. We won't have any more secrets between us... none."

Suddenly, Hermione became stiff and lowered her gaze.

"Is there something wrong?" Harry asked, worriedly.

She looked uneasy. "To tell you the truth, what happened in the library... it was only my fault."

Harry smiled with sympathy. "You always want to be the saviour of the world, don't you?"

"This is nothing to laugh about. I'm serious!" she insisted.

Harry's face darkened. "You weren't the one who almost killed Theo Mustle."

"I don't mean that." Hermione sighed deeply, as if what she was about to say was the most difficult thing in the world. "Harry, listen to me. I know everything."

His eyes widened, puzzled. "What are you talking about?"

"The Arcane Path! When Ron told me about it, I' started my own research and..."

"Hey, wait a minute. You're saying Ron told you everything, even though I asked him not to?" he cut her off, stunned.

"Exactly. In the beginning, he was waiting for you to personally tell me about this. But then he realized it was too important to not tell me everything."

"So, for all these weeks, you've been doing research about the Path, without telling me anything?"

"And there's something else..." Hermione closed her eyes, mentally preparing herself before dropping the last bomb. "I... I asked Theo to help me with the research."

"YOU WHAT?" shouted Harry, even more shocked.

"Please don't shout," she whispered, looking around nervously.

"But... but... do you realize the danger we're running? Dumbledore made me promise to keep the secret, because we can't trust anybody here. Not even Hogwarts is safe now. And what do you do? You secretly go blabbing to HIM all of the Order's business? But how... what in the hell got into your mind?"

"I know, I know! It was foolish on my part... I'm realizing it just now," explained Hermione, mortified. "But it was too important to find more information. Theo has always been a brilliant student and I thought he would be able to help us a lot. And also... I was so mad at you, that I wanted to make you jealous."

"I can't believe it," Harry whispered, resigned, raising his hands up to his head. "What did you tell him, exactly?"

"Don't worry, I didn't get into any details. I just asked him to help me with a special assignment for History of Magic, that's all."

Harry was speechless. His heart was invaded by two different feelings, a mix of deep disappointment and resigned helplessness.

"Harry, listen to me carefully," Hermione went on, with a grave expression in her eyes. "I've discovered several worrying facts about the Rebirth Flame. I can assure you that it's nothing that someone could face easily."

Harry frowned at her. "What do you mean?"

Hermione sighed deeply and started with her explanation. "The Arcane Path, it isn't a physical path, like something one could easily imagine, nor is it a path like a series of actions to follow. In reality, it's a sort of inner journey, a transcendental way that leads to the purification of the soul, either into pure good or pure evil. It depends on whether the person who follows the path is moved by a good or a evil purpose.

The wizard who wants to attain the Rebirth Flame will have to find the Arcane Path inside of himself, and follow it making certain sacrifices. But the most worrying thing is that each sacrifice may mean losing a part of your own soul."

Silence fell in the room. For a few very long minutes, Harry thought over the new information. He then recalled the last few words of the second prophecy.

"But only on the condition that courage is not lost along the way," he whispered, his eyes unfocused in thought.

"What did you just say?" asked Hermione, even more worried.

"The second prophecy, the one Dumbledore told me on Halloween night. It was more or less like this:

"The Dark Lord's enemy will rise again from his ashes,

Like the most noble of the Phoenixes,

And will change the destiny of everyone,

But only on the condition that courage is not lost along the way."

"As you can see, it's all a matter of courage," he added, gloomy.

"You're saying that you're really going to try?" Hermione asked, stunned and upset.

"If it's the only way to defeat Voldemort..." Harry replied in resignation.

"But... but it's completely crazy! It'd mean facing certain death. No, you don't want to end like this, you can't..." Hermione couldn't find the courage to finish the sentence and remained there, staring at him with eyes wide open.

Harry didn't reply. He felt as if his heart was being pressed by a heavy boulder. He asked himself if he would be able to gather the courage to go on until the end. He asked himself if his sacrifice would be useful for the whole world.

Again, an awkward silence filled the room. None of them dared say a word. They stayed like this for a long time, hand in hand, their gazes lost in the flames in front of them.

Then suddenly, both of their attentions were drawn by a tapping coming from the window. They lifted their eyes and saw a large grey owl frantically flying outside, anxious to be noticed by anyone.

Harry rushed to open the window. The owl entered without needing to be asked. It made a complex arc close to the ceiling, then delivered a letter directly in Harry's hands. Its task complete, the magical creature quickly flew outside into the dark night.

The letter was from the Ministry of Magic.

Dear Mr. Potter,

It has come to our attention that last night, at 6:45PM in the library of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, you made an attempt to kill a Gryffindor student.

The seriousness of this act is exacerbated by the fact that it is not the first incident of such magnitude. During the summer previous on Privet Drive, in a Muggle residence and in the presence of more than one Muggle, you violated the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery.

It is important to note that if not for the intercession of our appreciated colleague, Albus Dumbledore, we would have, on that occasion, taken serious measures to prevent future recurrences.

I also wish to remind you that in difficult times such as those we are facing now, it should be our primary duty to set the right example for others and avoid engaging in such reproachable manifestations of Dark Magic.

For that reason, we deeply regret to inform you that because of your behaviour tonight, you hereby are to be judged by a Special Commission, which will join you at your domicile as soon as can be arranged.

In the meantime, you may consider yourself expelled from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, accepting any and all consequences that result from this decision.

Hoping you are well.

Yours faithfully,

Mafalda Hopkirk

Office for Improper Use of Magic

Ministry of Magic

Hermione's face paled. "Oh, no. It's terrible!"

For his part, Harry didn't appear very surprised. He crumpled up the letter in anger and threw it directly into the crackling fire.

"What are you going to do now?" she asked, unable to hide her worry. Harry didn't say a word; he merely shrugged his shoulders.

"You mean you don't care?"

"I mean that I've had enough!" he shouted, closing the window with force that it rattled the panes of glass. "I've had enough of those people from the Ministry, and their rules! I've had enough of them always telling me what I can and can't do!

"Everybody thinks that the outcome of this war depends solely on me. 'Potter is the Chosen One!' 'Potter needs to get ready for his final battle with You-Know-Who!' But as soon as I make a single mistake, they're all against me.

"I'm not at the beck and call of the Ministry of Magic, I'm not their poster boy, to show to the enemy during the battle, and then throw away when I become useless!"

Hermione stared at him with comprehension. "I understand."

"They want to expel me? Fine! I don't need to worry about school anymore!" added Harry, quickly moving toward the staircase.

"Where are you going now?"

"I'm going to bed. I need to catch up on my sleep anyway." Harry stopped on the landing, then turned a last time. "One more thing. Since I've been expelled, I'm happy to say that I'm going to wake up late tomorrow morning, really late." Finishing the sentence, he entered the boys' dormitory and slammed the door.

Once alone, Hermione turned sadly toward the flames. The letter from the Ministry had already become a bunch of dark ashes.

***O***

Harry had been staring at the ceiling for hours, lying on his bed. Around him, everything was silent. Dean and Seamus were deep asleep and had not even heard him enter the room.

My life is just like some sort of up and down swing, he thought, discouraged. One moment I'm happy, but then something bad happens and I'm falling again into a deep abyss. I just want it to all stop. I just wish I could change my life, right now.

Erudio's words returned to his mind. "My only job is to guide you along the way and to show you the entrance. But you are the only one who can take the last step. You're the only one who will able to open the door and find the answer to your questions."

I'm the only one who is able to open that door, he repeated, trying to understand the meaning of his words. I'm the only one able to break through the veil of time and space. And why not... despite what Erudio said, maybe even be able to change the future...

Comforted by this thought, Harry closed his eyes and did his best to concentrate deeply, pushing out every worry from his mind. He found it extremely difficult. The harder he tried, the more his thoughts wandered restlessly.

"Damn it! It's impossible," he said, punching his pillow. He then looked around, worried that he'd woken up his roommates. He realized that they were still asleep, however.

Disappointed and angry with himself, he turned on his side and closed his eyes again. I just want to be able to do something helpful. I'd like to know what's going to happen in my future, he kept repeating until the tiredness won over and he fell into a deep sleep.

Without even realizing it, Harry found himself wondering in the night along the streets of some ancient town. He knew this place; he'd seen it several times in his visions. The small buildings were dirty and broken, the street was ravaged and dusty. He was completely alone except for a couple of starved-looking cats that ran away, scared, as soon as he was within a few meters of them.

Then he saw her. A hooded figure, walking fast and doing her best to hide amongst the shadows. Curious, Harry hastened his walk to follow her and soon he realized that they were now taking an isolated path, moving away from the buildings. Soon, they found themselves in open countryside.

The constant hooting of owls and croaking of frogs was unnerving. Harry tightened his arms across his chest, feeling a deep cold that penetrated to his bones. He couldn't understand yet why he felt compelled to follow the hooded figure; it was almost as if there were some sort of magnetic force that drew him in.

The hooded figure reached a large house with a curious pointed roof and run-down windows. Harry had been following at a certain distance, hiding behind the trees from time to time to keep from being discovered. Suddenly, the figure turned towards him, taking him by surprise.

Harry was frozen in shock; it was a teenaged Jane Porter, looking exactly as she did at Hogwarts. But the odd thing was that even though he was only a short distance from her, she gave no sign that she knew he was standing in front of her.

This seems to be one of her memories. It's just like looking inside a Pensieve, Harry thought. Feeling more relaxed, he hastened his walk and was at her side.

Jane looked around, wary, then crossed through the broken gate, rusted from time. She then quickly headed up the main walk.

When Jane entered the house, Harry entered with her. The door led directly into a small living room, crowded with old pieces of furniture covered by patched bed sheets. Everything was immersed in twilight. A sour smell of mould forced its way through his nostrils.

"Madame Piccoli?" Jane called, moving with some amount of certainty through the mess; it obviously wasn't the first time she'd been there. "Madame Piccoli? Mum told me that you weren't feeling well. I wanted to bring you some Strengthening Potion."

A few minutes of silence passed by, during which Harry looked around. The house seemed uninhabited for ages; spider webs went from wall to wall, covering chandeliers, wardrobes, and armchairs. Then, he heard the sound of steps coming from the upper floor... slow and tired steps, like those of an older person limping.

"Oh, it's you, my dear," croaked Madame Piccoli. An ancient woman appeared at the top of the stairs, short and alarmingly thin. She had a wrinkled face and was wrapped in a patched, dirty cloak. "It's dangerous to walk at night. I suppose your mother would have told you that by now."

The old lady descended the stairs, step by step. Jane moved closer to hold her arm as she showed her to one of the armchairs. She then took a seat on a nearby stool. "Ah, thank you so much, little dear. You're always so kind to me. But you need to promise that you'll go back home immediately, and that you won't stop along the way."

Jane smiled, and her face lit up. Her beautiful green eyes shone of a unique light; Harry couldn't help by notice how he seemed drawn to those eyes. "I'm going right away, don't worry. But first, I need to be sure that you drink the whole potion."

She withdrew a glass vial from up her sleeve and poured the contents into an old cup she found on a nearby table. She then handed the cup to the old lady who drank it greedily.

Harry remained separate from them by the front door, watching the scene like a detached spectator.

"I'm feeling much, much better now. It's always so difficult nowadays to find anything substantial to eat, especially at my age and with all the problems I have," Madame Piccoli sighed deeply. She then stretched out her hand and brushed Jane's cheek in affection. "But I don't want to talk about me. You and your mother are my real guardian angels, the only friends I have left. There's so much suffering, so much hate in our world that I can hardly breathe. But having you close by, I'm able to still not lose all hope."

Jane took her hand in hers. "You don't have to lose hope. Sooner or later, we'll find a way out of this hell we're in. I promise."

"I'm sure of that, my dear. I'm sure of that," Madame Piccoli repeated with sadness in her eyes. "If only your father hadn't have left us so many years ago. Believe me, things would have been much different, for all of us."

Suddenly, the smile on Jane's face faded and her eyes sparked with interest. "Please, tell me something about my father. Tell me about when he was young."

Without knowing reason why, Harry felt a certain curiosity in hearing about Jane's father. He moved closer to the two women to better listen.

The old lady drank another sip of the potion, then wiped her lips with her dirty sleeve and spoke again. Her eyes seemed lost in space. "I still remember when your parents got married. Your mother was so happy. Your father was so excited, he wasn't able to speak a word. It was a simple ceremony, but very sweet. There wasn't any other celebration afterward. Times were extremely dark and there wasn't much to celebrate. Nevertheless, they asked all of their dearest friends to be present."

Madame Piccoli paused for a long few moments; Jane started to become anxious. "And then what happened?" After a moment of hesitation, Jane brought up a subject she had never dared ask before. "Do you... do you know why he left me and mum?"

The woman blinked several times as if she had not understood the question, but then began to speak. "Well, my dear, your father left many months before you were born. I know that if he knew your mum was expecting you, he would have remained here, fighting with us."

Jane couldn't believe what she heard. "A-are you sure? I-I thought that..."

"Oh, I'm sure of it. Your parents got married in July, and in October your father left. You were born in May of the following year." Harry noticed that Madame Piccoli was forcing herself to remember the dates, and was counting on her fingers. "I know, I know. Maybe you thought that it was all your fault that your father left, but it isn't. Of course it isn't your fault, my dear."

Jane lowered her gaze. Madame Piccoli was probably right; she had always blamed herself.

"Oh, but surely you've spoken with your mum about this?" added the old lady.

Jane didn't dare look up; she lowered her voice. "M-mum never talks about Dad... she doesn't even want me to speak his name."

Madame Piccoli sighed deeply, then a grave expression appeared on her wrinkled face. "The real reason is a mystery, even now. In the beginning, we thought that they had kidnapped him and were keeping him as a prisoner... who knows where. But then your Mum reassured us. She said that she had received a secret owl from him. However she never fully explained the reason for his departure, or how long his voluntary exile was going to last."

"Then... that means that maybe Mum knew where Dad went," Jane observed, shocked by this revelation. "And she didn't do anything to go to him and bring him back!"

"Do not judge your mother too sternly, my dear." Madame Piccoli brushed Jane's hand in a motherly way. "She has suffered the most in this tragedy. Despite all that has happened to her and the many difficulties she has gone through, she has still been able to raise the wonderful daughter that you are, and make you a wise and smart young woman."

A shadow of sadness appeared on Jane's eyes. "But then, what is the real reason Dad left us?"

The old lady spoke again, her eyes again lost in space. "If you want to know what my opinion is, I believe that the reason is directly connected with his last battle against... You-Know-Who," Madame Piccoli, said, emphasizing the name. "I think You-Know-Who inflicted on him an indelible scar, a mark that would never heal. But I'm not talking about scratches on the skin, but rather scars he carried... on the inside." As she finished, she raised a hand to her heart and her eyes widened.

Jane looked at her, puzzled. "W-what do you mean?"

Suddenly, Madame Piccoli covered her mouth with her wrinkled hands, as if upset with herself for what she'd just said. "N-nothing my dear. I didn't mean anything," she stuttered, nervously.

"Please, I absolutely need to know," Jane begged.

The old lady sighed deeply, then agreed to continue. "You're still too young," she whispered, gently brushing her face. "You shouldn't torment yourself, thinking over past tragedies. The only thing I can tell you is that after his last battle against You-Know-Who, your father wasn't the same man anymore."

Silence fell upon the room. The two women looked into each other's eyes for several minutes. Then, Jane was about to ask something else, but the question never made it out.

CRASH!

A sudden, violent noise of broken glass made them jump where they were sitting. A rock had just broken one of the windows.

"Ahhh!" Madame Piccoli shouted, terrified, while Jane stood up with her wand drawn. Simply out of instinct, Harry did so, ready to fight. From the broken window, it was possible to see several fires in the distance. A group of hooded people, wrapped in black cloaks, was dangerously marching toward the house.

"Run! Save yourself!" shouted the old lady.

"You know I'd never leave you here!" Jane replied, showing admirable courage even though her trembling hands betrayed her fear. "You have to come with me."

"Don't be silly! I'd just slow you down." Madame Piccoli tried to stand up, but her legs gave out and she fell on the armchair. She shot a quick glance outside the window, where the group of hooded people was marching closer and closer. "I'll stay here, to cover your escape. Come on, what are you waiting for?"

"I can't!" Jane insisted, unable to move as if paralyzed.

Harry felt his heart beating furiously in his chest as he watched the two women who were still arguing, wasting precious time.

Suddenly, the old woman grabbed Jane's arm, forcing her to listen carefully. "You must go and get help. Run to the neighbours... make them come here. They'll know what to do. You'll see, nothing bad is going to happen to me before your get back."

"But..."

"I said go and get help!"

Though still hesitant, Jane finally agreed. "I'll be back as soon as I can," she said and Madame Piccoli nodded, nervously. Then, the girl rushed to the back door, Harry following her like a shadow.

Once outside, they both ran as fast as they could, feeling their adrenaline spike and as their hearts beat madly. Harry could feel the muddy ground giving in under the weight of his steps and the cold night air freezing his lungs.

When they found themselves a fair distance from the house, almost to the edge of town, they heard a terrible explosion. Even from this distance, force of the blast knocked them face-first into the muddy ground. Harry got up and quickly turned around. He saw that Madame Piccoli's house had just been completely destroyed.

"Noooo!" shouted Jane, shocked. But there was that could be done.

In the sky above the ruins of the house, Voldemort's ominous Dark Mark shone.

"Noooo!" Jane screamed in a way that was horrifying to even witness. She covered her face with her hands as she sank to the ground, crying. Harry's heart was torn by sorrow. He asked himself what possible reason there could be for such senseless violence, such brutal evil. The memory of his parents' deaths, of Cedric's, Sirius's, Mark's, became almost unbearable. He just wanted to be able to help her, to let her know that he was there, and that he was suffering with her.

When he raised his eyes, he realized that the group of Death Eaters was now marching right to where they were lying.

There wasn't any more time to waste... they needed to run, immediately.

"Jane, Jane!" Harry stood up and called her name several times, but she couldn't hear. She was still sitting in the muddy ground, her face crossed by tears, her eyes open wide, staring at the Dark Mark in the sky. "Jane, we have to go now! They're coming. They're going to kill us!"

The Death Eaters were now only a few meters from them and Harry felt panic gripping his mind. They were out of time... death was imminent.

"JANE!" Harry kept shouting her name until he felt his strength starting to leave him. He fell to his knees, exhausted.

He then closed his eyes as he realized that everything around him was spinning. He felt wind ruffling through his hair, along with an unbearable sensation of nausea. When he opened his eyes again, he was lying in his bed at Hogwarts, safe at last.

Harry propped himself up with his elbows and with difficulty sat back against his pillow. His forehead was completely soaked with sweat and his hands were still trembling. It all looked and felt so real, he thought, feeling an odd pang in his stomach.

He turned to look out the window. White snowflakes gently and silently fell against the windowsill. Jane Porter, who are you, really? he silently asked himself, realizing once and for all that this girl and everything surrounding her had now became a true obsession for him.

In that very moment, on the opposite side of Gryffindor Tower in the girls' dormitory, Jane Porter had just dreamt the same dream. She had suddenly woken up with her heart in turmoil. After assuring herself that nobody had heard her shouting, she lie back down on the bed, unable to go back to sleep.

Since her first night at Hogwarts, Jane had been dreaming of scenes from her past. She relived the darkest moments of her life as an unarmed spectator, asking herself why such a thing was happening to her. But more than that, she didn't know that she had unconsciously been sending those same dreams to Harry.

Without knowing it, father and daughter had created an inner connection between themselves. There was no way to know if this unintentional joke of destiny would help unite their paths or part them forever...

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