Harry Potter and the Dark Mark

Chapter Thirty Three

"Back the way you came," Moody growled at Ron, who nodded with a gulp. Ron took a handful of the powder from the jar on the mantelpiece, threw it into the fire and stepped into the flickering green flames.

"Gryffindor Common Room," he choked before disappearing in a rush and roar of fire.

"What about the snake?" Harry asked anxiously.

"You'll have to hold the basket and hope you don't catch it on anything," Moody shrugged. Harry nodded and copied Ron's actions exactly, clutching the basket as if his life depended on it.

The Common Room at first sight appeared no different to the burnt out shell of the cottage Harry had just left. Once his eyes had grown accustomed to the shadows however, familiar shapes swam into view and Ron could be made out sitting desolately in an armchair.

Hermione stumbled out of the fireplace with a sharp intake of breath. All three of them turned and waited for Moody, who arrived with a spectacular crash and a whoosh of flames up the chimney, illuminating the entire Common Room with disjointed green light.

Once the flames had died down, Moody gave an embarrassed cough and brushed his robes down. "Used all the remaining powder so no one could follow us," he explained gruffly.

"What are we waiting for?" Hermione cried impatiently, hopping from foot to foot.

"Potter, go awaken Professor Snape. Weasley, fetch McGonagall, and Granger, I want you to fetch Madam Pomfrey. Fast as you can now! Bring them to Dumbledore's quarters. I'll be waiting there for you: the password is Toothflossing Stringmints."

Harry was already speeding from the room, his heart in his mouth. He was only mildly annoyed that he had been given the chore of fetching Snape of all the teachers. Moody must know that the Potions Master and Harry had no love for one another. Snape was unlikely to believe Harry, but Harry didn't care. He'd make Snape chase him to Dumbledore's office if need be.

Niggling at the back of his mind were the suspicions he and his friends harboured about the two teachers, but Moody was not to be disobeyed. Besides, he was an Auror, so if anything did go wrong, Harry was sure he could handle it. It would be worth getting them there just to see Dumbledore being made better before their eyes if they were the ones who had poisoned him.

"Professor Snape! Wake up!" Harry banged on the Snape's door frantically. "Wake up you greasy git," he added under his breath. After a minute the door swung open sharply and Snape was there holding his wand aloft to shine light in Harry's face.

"What do you want, Potter? It is ten past six in the morning! Can Professor McGonagall not deal with your messy misadventures by herself this time?"

"Professor Moody sent me, sir, he has a cure for Professor Dumbledore and he needs your help immediately!"

Snape sneered and his black eyes seemed to light up. "Take me to him," he ordered. Harry nodded and began jogging along the corridor, smirking to himself as Snape summoned a dressing gown and struggled into it behind him.

"This had better not be a prank, Potter!"

They reached the entrance to Dumbledore's Office at the same time as Madam Pomfrey and Hermione. Half a minute later McGonagall strode up purposefully followed by an out of breath Ron.

"Toothflossing Stringmints," Hermione said clearly. Madam Pomfrey hurried up the revolving staircase first, followed by Hermione and Ron. Harry glanced back to Snape and McGonagall and was interested to note McGonagall's almost fearful gaze fall on Snape before she followed him up the staircase. Harry was the last to climb the stairs and to enter Dumbledore's office.

"Take a seat," Moody barked.

"You'll need me to calm the snake," Harry argued. "I'm a Parselmouth."

"Very well," Moody acquiesced.

Harry followed him and the other Professors past the whirring and clicking devices in the main office and up past the desk to a door which concealed a staircase to the living quarters.

The bedroom Dumbledore was in was hung with rich red and gold tapestries and there was a roaring fire that made the room oppressively hot. Candles flickered with golden glow, rivulets of hardened wax encasing the candle sconces and forming stalactites and stalagmites of miniature proportions. Harry breathed in sharply as his eyes met with the sight of his Headmaster.

Nothing had prepared him for how ill Dumbledore looked. The old man was tucked under numerous striped bed sheets and woollen crocheted blankets despite the heat in the room. His beard and hair was uncombed and matted with bits of food encrusted in it and the bright eyes were closed and unseeing. Sleep ran from the corner of his eyes and his mouth was partly open, making soft wheezing noises.

"He's sleeping," Snape said sibilantly.

"I trust you know how to prepare the cobra venom and administer it?" Moody asked brusquely.

"But of course," Snape replied. He moved over to the basket and extracted the snake carefully, forcing open its mouth and squeezing the venom glands. Then he turned towards a beaker on the table in the corner that was covered with pots and potions, bottles and lotions and Harry could no longer see what he was doing.

Madam Pomfrey set about waking Dumbledore up and preparing him to take the antidote. McGonagall shrank to the back of the room where she hovered awkwardly. Remembering his previous suspicions, Harry watched her like a hawk, preparing himself for the worst.

"Something wrong, Minerva?" Snape asked without even turning round.

"No!" Professor McGonagall shot out, although she pulled her tartan dressing gown tighter around her and Harry saw her clutch her wand tightly. Moody took a swig from his hip flask ponderously, watching everyone alertly.

Professor Snape moved away from the table holding the beaker in his hand and reached for the pitcher of water on Dumbledore's bedside table. The Headmaster's lead lidded eyes followed him listlessly around the room. Harry stared in fascination as Snape poured some water into the beaker. A spoon was stirring itself round and round, combining the venom and the water into a liquid Dumbledore could drink.

Just as Snape removed the spoon and shook it delicately, McGonagall started forwards, wand out. Her face was contorted in anger. "Stupe--" she began, but before she could finish the incantation, her face crumpled and she fell to the floor like a limp rag.

Moody shook his head and took another mouthful of drink from his flask. "Now I wonder..." he muttered. Harry gave him a startled look as the old Defence against the Dark Arts teacher put away his wand.

Snape had not even turned round. He continued helping a very nervous Madame Pomfrey administer the antidote to Dumbledore. "You'll find Lucius Malfoy in Hagrid's Hut, Alastor. I suggest you call for backup first. Malfoy is a very dangerous man, and when a dangerous man becomes desperate, he will kill."

"Well!" Madam Pomfrey gasped, fanning her face with her hand. "Well I never! Was it the Imperius, then, Alastor?"

"Seems so," Moody confirmed with a frown at Professor McGonagall's unconscious body. "You'd better revive her in the Hospital Wing. She'll be very weak when she comes round."

"I know my business, old man!" Pomfrey snapped teasingly. She tried to usher Harry from the room despite his protests. "You three can come along too!"

"I don't understand!" Harry said in some confusion.

"Leave Potter, Poppy. I need him to talk to the snake," Snape ordered imperiously.

"Very well, but don't keep him longer than need be," Madam Pomfrey sniffed. She levitated McGonagall's body and floated it down the stairs. Harry heard her chivvying Ron and Hermione along and then the door closing behind them as they left.

Moody waited to see Dumbledore fall into an easy and deep sleep. With a brisk nod he left the room. Snape cleared up the table and returned the snake to its basket.

"Please explain," Harry implored his Potions teacher.

"Very well, Potter. Lucius Malfoy has been living at this school for some time now. He has been controlling Professor McGonagall with the Imperius Curse and slowly been polluting the timetables of the students with unnecessary Dark Magic. Surely you thought the Dark Arts classes were unusual?"

"Yes, Sir." Harry was careful to remain polite. He wanted to glean as much information from Snape as he could.

"I have been a double agent, working with Lucius but reporting his actions to the Department of Mysteries. This is why I was the one who taught the Dark Arts classes. Lucius and the other Death Eaters were convinced I would be doing a good job creating a hot house for Voldemort to raise his own little army of Dark Witches and Wizards, and the Ministry were equally sure I would not."

"Oh! That's why Draco Malfoy thought you wanted a Potions Assistant this year!"

"Exactly," Snape confirmed. "Admittedly, it has meant this year my teaching was bound to suffer. Dumbledore knew that with increased Dark Activities I would need days off school. You must have noticed my absences the days after a Dark Mark appeared."

Harry nodded guiltily. Indeed he had noticed these absences, and jumped to the wrong conclusions. "Hermione was the first to spot it," he admitted uneasily.

"Well... you may think you have got away with it, but I for one, would dearly like to know exactly why you are running round Hogwarts at this time in the morning, with your clothes in that state. What have you been up to this time, Mr Potter?" Snape finished wiping the table down and whirled round with a flourish. His eyes gleamed and bored into Harry, who suddenly wished he had been allowed to go to the Hospital Wing with Madam Pomfrey. She never asked any questions.

"I, er..."

"I suggest, Mr Potter, that you instruct this snake to sleep, and then spirit yourself along to the Hospital Wing. You are obviously in need of rest. It will also give you some time to think of another pathetic excuse to save yourself from expulsion."

Harry nodded nervously and carried out his instructions. Soon he was sinking into a crisp, clean bed and falling into a deep and well deserved sleep, not even caring that Madam Pomfrey had given him a Dreamless Sleep Potion. When Dumbledore was better, he would sort everything out.

Chapter Thirty Four

"Harry! Harry, wake up! What happened, you jammy git?"

Harry opened his eyes and blinked. "Gimme me glasses," he slurred.

"There they are, Ron, between your bed and his," Harry heard Hermione tell Ron. Once he could see he sat up and squinted in the sunlight.

"What time is it?" he asked.

"Four o' clock," Hermione said primly. "Now tell us what happened!"

"Lucius Malfoy had Professor McGonagall under the Imperius curse! She tried to stop Snape curing Dumbledore, so Moody hexed her!" Harry said slowly as he recalled the previous day's events. Hermione gasped and clutched at Ron's bed sheets.

"Oh!" She slapped her hand to her forehead. "Why didn't we SEE that? It's so obvious now you think about it!"

"Is it?" Ron asked blankly. Harry shrugged at him and leaned round to peer at Hermione, waiting for her explanation.

"Yes! Don't you remember? She's seemed sort of... emotionless for ages now, since after the attack at the Three Broomsticks. Harry, you said yourself you saw conflicting emotions on her face when Dumbledore fainted at the Quidditch Match. That will be because she wanted to help him, but Lucius who was controlling her didn't want to!"

"Oh..." Harry looked at Ron for support.

"You know people can fight the Imperius; you've done it yourself; Barty Crouch fought it off completely!" Hermione gabbled, seeing Harry's uncomprehending stare.

Ron jerked his hand up suddenly as he thought of something. "Like... when she saw Crookshanks that time, and went all funny," he calculated. "We thought she was off her rocker, but I'll bet she was fighting the curse," he cried.

"Yes!" Hermione cried in excitement. "What did she try to say?"

"Er... something beginning with 'hel,'" Harry supplied.

"What if she was asking for help?" Ron demanded.

"That'll be it!" Hermione was flushed with the success of the discovery.

"But I thought them Kneazle things that Crookshanks is one of can spot crackpots and bad eggs a million miles away?" Ron said incoherently, tangled in his train of thought. "So why did Crookshanks not like McGonagall?"

"He'll have been able to tell that the Professor was under the Imperius," Hermione said confidently, tucking her knees under her chin and wrapping her arms around them.

"And Lucius realised she nearly managed to communicate with us and forced her to act as if she hated Crookshanks," Harry surmised, finally catching up. He nodded, seeing things quite clearly now.

"I can't believe we missed and entire day's classes," Hermione clucked, shaking her head pensively.

Ron looked to Harry, eyebrows raised. Harry grinned.

"Ah, so my charges are awake at last! How are we all this afternoon?" Madam Pomfrey cooed as she left her office and walked over to the beds.

"Hungry!" Ron announced cheerfully. "I could murder a bacon buttie!"

"No, a pumpkin pasty," Harry argued.

Hermione sniffed. "Cauldron cakes!" She giggled at everyone's shocked faces. "What? I'm hungry too, you know!"

"How is Professor McGonagall?" Harry asked, the light hearted banter evaporating instantly.

"She's resting in her quarters. She is completely herself again, but very weakened," Madam Pomfrey informed them.

"And Dumbledore?" Ron added.

Madam Pomfrey's face creased into a smile. "He's coming along very nicely, very nicely indeed, Weasley. Now, I think I'll go get you some food, after I've checked you all over. Ladies frist!"

With this she moved to Hermione and set the screens up between the trio's beds. Conversation was stopped by the barriers, and Harry found himself straining to check that Hermione wasn't unwell in any way.

"You've a few minor bruises, burns and scratches, but I can soon fix those up. That sprained wrist though... I don't want you to write for three days, understood?"

"THREE DAYS?" Harry heard Hermione yelp incredulously. From the other side of the screen Harry heard Ron begin to laugh. "It's not funny Ronald Weasley!" Hermione snapped.

There was a rustling of material and Madam Pomfrey moved to see Ron. This time Harry could hear more clearly the bubbles of air in the bottle of tincture the School Nurse was applying to Ron's abrasions, and his little gasps as it stung his cuts.

"Seems your wound is completely alright, thanks to those Phoenix tears! But you've jarred your elbows somewhere along the line, and your muscles will be sore around the bite area. No Quidditch for you for two weeks."

"WHAT? Bugger!" Ron swore.

"Ron!" Hermione told him off.

"Language, Mr Weasley!" Madam Pomfrey chided, but Harry could tell she was sorry for him. "And last but not least, Mr Potter."

Harry waited with interest to see what would be the matter with him. Both his wrists were sore where he had been bound, and the palms of his hands were ripped to shreds from where he had fallen up the stairs in the dark. He hoped he would still be allowed to play Quidditch. If Snape was intent on punishing them for last night's escapade, Gryffindor would need all the House Points Harry could get them.

"Hmm, those hands need some of this on," Madam Pomfrey muttered more to herself than Harry as she dabbed some stinging tincture onto his palms. "How is your head, Harry?"

"I have a headache behind my scar," Harry confessed readily.

"Well, take this tablet, and see if it dulls the pain at all. I'll go have the House Elves make you some tea, and in the meantime, Professor Snape would like to see you. He's Acting Head until Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore are better."

As she bustled away Ron let out an audible groan. "Snape as Head? We might as well go pack now! My Mum'll kill me!"

"Ron! Isn't the last game of the season against Hufflepuff next week?" Harry said urgently.

There was silence, and then a stream of expletives. "It is too! What will we do?" Ron wailed in dismay. "With Snape as Acting Head Gryffindor will lose more points than we have... we need to win that game, and we can't with no Keeper!"

"I'm sure Katie will find a replacement," Hermione said pragmatically.

"That's not the point, Hermione! We spend ages bonding, forming a team... there's real cohesion within the group, we are strong as one, united..." Ron launched into a diatribe about team spirit. "...that's ruined, all out of balance if one of the team is missing!"

"Good afternoon," a crisp voice greeted the three teenagers.

"Good afternoon, Professor Snape," Hermione, Harry and Ron chorused dully.

"I trust we are all feeling refreshed?"

"Yes, thank you, Professor," Hermione said more clearly.

"I will not mince words. I wish to know exactly what happened to you all last night," Snape stated distastefully, as if the whole experience pained him.

"Have you spoken to Mad Eye Moody?" Ron asked.

"That is Professor Moody to you, Weasley, and yes, I have, but he was unable to tell me why three fifth year Gryffindor students should be on Pladda Isle in the small hours of the morning," Snape hissed acidly. Ron grimaced.

Harry explained, starting from their wish to protect themselves against Malfoy, the letter from Sirius and subsequent meeting, he glossed over the particular reason he had fallen through the fireplace and then detailed the events leading up to their return. He hoped that Snape would not ask why Harry had fallen through the Floo connection and put it down to clumsiness on his part.

"You do realise, of course, that I will have to punish you?" Snape asked, not requiring an answer. Hermione nodded with good grace, almost expectant. "I cannot condone your behaviour even if you could not control the events that unfurled around you. Miss Granger and Mr Weasley should have fetched a member of staff instead of embarking on a wild and perilous chase, and Mr Potter... none of you should have been up in the first place. I would suggest you do not meet your Godfather again. He is not a very good role model for you at this age and time," Snape sneered. Harry riled at the comments directed at Sirius but managed to keep his temper at bay.

"Three hundred points will be taken from Gryffindor. Mr Potter and Mr Weasley, you will be banned from Quidditch for two weeks, and Miss Granger... as a Prefect your behaviour is much more serious than these two. You set an example to the younger students. I feel that you are not quite aware of the responsibility of such a post. However, as you are by far and away the best selection for such a role out of your housemates of the same year, I will be leaving you intact. You will, instead, serve a detention with Professor Trelawney."

Ron groaned loudly, Hermione dropped her head and Harry sat in horror. How could he catch the Snitch and win Gryffindor house points now? Snape knew full well that stopped Harry from playing in the match against Hufflepuff and not even Hermione could make up the three hundred points in two weeks. At this rate Gryffindor would be in fourth place for the House Cup.

Snape made to leave the Hospital Wing, but Hermione called him back. "Professor Snape. Your speech made quite an impression on me. Now I feel I ought to tell you..." Hermione swallowed and looked to Harry as if she were going to do something that might upset him. "Madame Pomfrey said Harry would be unlikely to be able to play Quidditch for two weeks anyway because of his hands. That means your punishment wouldn't really have an effect on him." She raised her eyes to meet the unforgiving gaze of Snape, who sneered at her.

"Miss Granger, I am pleasantly surprised by you. It seems I have got through to at least one of you!" Snape's eyes moved to stare at Harry, who was looking from teacher to friend with a shocked expression. It was Ron, not he, who was not allowed to play Quidditch for two weeks!

"Sorry Harry," Hermione said. Harry could have sworn he saw the corner of her mouth quirk in a small smile before she lowered her head.

"Hold out your hands, Potter," Snape spat. Harry did as he was told. "Very well. You will serve detention with me." With that Snape swept from the room.

"Hermione?" Ron questioned. "Would you like to tell us what all that was about?"

Hermione grinned. "I just saved the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, that's all. I never said Harry couldn't play Quidditch for two weeks, I said it would be unlikely that he could. And once he's served detention with Snape, Snape can hardly punish him again, can he?"

"I've said this before, and I'll say it again; you're brilliant, Hermione!" Harry laughed.

"And Snape doesn't know I can't play anyway," Ron grinned gleefully, "so I get away with no punishment." He looked slightly saddened. "Sorry, you two," he commiserated. "After all, your two most hated teachers for detention! I'll help you all I can," he promised.

Harry flopped back suddenly. "I'm so tried, but I slept for ages," he muttered, a frown crossing his face.

"I'm more hungry than I am tired," Ron groaned, looking hopefully at the door. When Madam Pomfrey declined to appear he gave the door a mournful look and lay back against his pillow. Despite his words he was soon snoring away peacefully. Hermione glared at his tousled head to no avail; if anything, his snores got louder.

Harry lay in silence, staring at the ceiling. After waking up and feeling so happy to be alive and back to normal, he realised that yet again, normal was different. He'd spent all year trying to be Harry rather than Harry Potter, and yet again he'd been swept up into an adventure he had never asked for. People had died, lots of people. It didn't matter that they weren't people he knew very well, they had still perished at the hands of one man.

He ignored Hermione when she called his name softly. He squeezed his eyes tight shut and pretended to be asleep. It had taken time to adjust over this past year, and Harry felt as if he had taken one step forwards and two steps back. Images pressed against the walls of his head and threatened to burst out of his scar. He was just so tired of everything, all he wanted to do was sleep...