Beyond Boundaries

Chapter Seven: Trust Your Instincts

"Avada Ke-"

He never finished.

"Expelliarmus!" someone shouted. The Death Eater's wand flew out of his hand. "Shetark!*" the same voice cried. The Death Eater fell, like if someone had given him a really hard knock on his head.

Time stopped. Everybody turned, Death Eater, student and teacher. Behind Hermione stood Professor Atos, on his one knee, pale as a ghost, arm outstretched and wand pointing at the Death Eaters, shivering slightly. His other arm embraced his stomach where you could see blood slowly and silently seeping out and dripping in small drops onto the snow, colouring it in a crimson colour.

Professor McGonagall's jaw dropped, and Ginny fell off her broom, as everyone stared at Christian, forgetting about the great peril they were in. Fortunately, the Death Eaters now noticed the approaching Aurors, and seeing as these people apparently had found a way to shield the Killing Curse, they decided that they would rather face a furious Voldemort, than a furious Auror squadron. So therefore, they fled. They transfigured whatever they found into broomsticks or something similar, and mounted as they fired curses against the Aurors. If they had managed to stay calm they could in fact have defeated them, as the Aurors had split up and half of them went to help the defenders of the Great Hall, which also was under attack. But the Death Eaters panicked and fled, running and flying here and there, and made themselves easy targets for the Aurors, who soon had the situation under control. Only a few could return to their Lord that day. As most of the Aurors were running around catching Death Eaters, their leader and a few others, Hermione, Dumbledore, McGonagall, Ron and Ginny gathered around Christian, most of them in shock, not believing what they had seen. Though, if Dumbledore was surprised, he didn't show it. Professor Atos struggled to his feet, and stood swaying a couple of seconds. Then he slumped to the ground, unconscious.

Dumbledore was at his side in an instant and turned him over, so he lay face up. His eyes were closed, but he was breathing, though forcefully.

Quickly, Dumbledore got Christian onto a stretcher he conjured up, and the same thing was done to the other unconscious students and teachers who were wounded, not only stunned. Professor Flitwick was one of them; as he was a skilled dueller he had disabled quite a few of the Death Eaters, and in the end one of them had managed to hit his wand-hand with a cutting curse. One could only hope he ever would be able to use it properly again.

Carefully they approached the Great Hall, in case the Death Eaters had managed to take it. To their great relief, the Aurors and the Order of Phoenix had everything under control, and no students, except those who had been on the Quidditch pitch, had been involved in the fight. They had been lucky. Hurriedly, the injured were brought up to the Hospital Wing, where Madam Pomfrey already had her hands full. As she started fussing over Professor Atos, Hermione asked the question everybody (who had seen it) thought of.

"Professor, how could he survive the Killing Curse?" she asked, bewildered, worried and scared.

Professor Dumbledore shook his head. "I don't know, Miss Granger. We'll have to ask him when he wakes up." Then, as an afterthought, he added: "If he wakes up."

~*~

"Poppy, how is he?" Dumbledore asked.

Madam Pomfrey sighed. "Not good, Albus. I don't think he'll live." She shook her head sadly. "And such a fine young man he is, too."

"Yes, he is." Dumbledore said, thoughtfully. "Is it the Avada Kedavra which is killing him, Poppy? Or is it something else?"

"It is not the Killing Curse. I can find no sign of this curse on him, but you say he was hit by it, so I have to believe you. Mind you, Headmaster, if it hadn't been you who told me this, I would never believe it. But it isn't the curse, it is his wounds. One of them I could heal pretty easily, as it was caused by a simple cutting curse. It's the other one which worries me. I've never seen anything like it. It seems like someone has cast a curse which not only cut the victim, but also ages the wound and gives it an infection. I would say it's a two month old wound with an infection, but it couldn't possibly be that, as he must have got it in the fight today. So I guess it must be a newly invented curse, and I cannot heal it. I fear if I try it will kill him." Madam Pomfrey looked distressed at the thought of not being able to heal a person, and she hurriedly left as one of her other patients needed her expertise, or 'fussing' as so many students had called it. Not so she could hear it of course. Professor Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully. If not everybody had been in such a complete shock after the attack on Hogwarts, someone might have noticed that he was uncommonly thoughtful, even for him.

When Madam Pomfrey had finished her check on Professor Flitwick's damaged wrist, and announced to a happy Professor that his wrist was healing well, and would be completely as before again, Dumbledore quietly told her to move Professor Atos over to a private room. He knew one who could help.

~*~

"But what if I do it wrong? What if he dies?" Hermione asked, her voice shivering slightly.

"Don't worry, Miss Granger. No matter what you do, you can't do any worse than it already is. He's dying." Hermione gasped as Professor Dumbledore confirmed what she already suspected. As a Healer she could sense if someone was dead or just sleeping, and though this part of her gift hadn't developed much yet, she could almost feel the grip death had on her Professor. He saved your life. You owe him this. You have to try at least, her inner voice told her. She took a deep breath and walked over to the chair beside the bed. Madam Pomfrey looked somewhat confused, though Dumbledore had told her that Hermione had a Healing Talent. Hermione couldn't blame her.

Hermione forced herself to relax, and started her 'search'. All she had to do was to touch his shoulder lightly. She sent small silver threads into him, searching for damaged parts. She knew she could heal him, if she only could find the wound's core. Her magic would then help his cells to heal faster. She concentrated so hard on her task that she didn't hear Madam Pomfrey's amazed gasp when she saw Hermiones' silver eyes. Her first tries to use her Powers had only caused her pupils and irises to turn silver, but now, the whole eyeball was silver. And this was the difference between the Healing Talent, the Shapeshifting Talent and the other Talents. You didn't need to have Pectal or Citatio Powers for any of the Talents, except this Healing and Shapeshifting, but yet, not every Pectal and Citatio had the gift. It was a Talent among the Citatios and Pectals, and no average witch or wizard could have it. Hermione didn't know if Citatios could have it either. Maybe it was a Talent only Pectals could have. Hermione suspected that it wasn't the only 'special' Talent, the 'others' just hadn't been discovered yet. After all, it was a thousand years since the last Pectal and Citatio lived.

As she 'searched' deeper she could feel his magic, the magic which is in everyone, even muggles. The difference between muggles and magicians are that the magic in muggles cannot be released, but muggles have magic. They just can't use it.

As she 'searched' his magic, she noticed that he was a strong wizard. She could sense the 'threads' of magic in him, and he was currently using a bit. He had two 'knots' on the 'threads', one big one, and one smaller one. Pectals and Citatios was able to 'analyse' magic, and the small one had to be a charm or something, though it couldn't possibly be something taking much power, as the remaining 'threads' showed him so powerful. She decided she wouldn't touch it, as she didn't know what it was. Probably an easy wandless spell, which every wizard or witch could do. Later, she would discover that this small knot was the magic which held the 'Christian-form' in place, and that it took pretty much of his power. If she had removed it, she would have been able to see the full extent of his power. He would also transform back to Harry.

The bigger knot however, was made with a wand. It was an advanced spell, but it was 'dead'. It wasn't functioning anymore. It was a kind of 'use-and-trash' spell. She quickly un-tied it, and for a second his body glowed blue. Hermione frowned, but she couldn't find that anything had happened, except that the big knot was gone.

She ignored the smaller 'knot' and followed the magical 'streams' in Christian's body. If a wizard -or muggle- is hurt, his or her magic will automatically try to heal him; it is called the 'healing process'. But without steering it will not heal properly, and only Pectals/Citatios with Healing Talent can steer and strenghten it, though medi-wizard and -witches's healing potions and charms, and muggle medecine can help it a great deal.

Now all Hermione had to do, was to find the place where his magic centred, and she would find the place where she should start her healing process.

She almost gasped when she found it. Injured and destroyed cells, many of them infected. The sickness had not yet reached any organs, but it would have in a day or two. Quickly she began the healing, and her magic joined his magic in the process. She took the control and together their magic was stronger than the infection. Cell upon cell was rebuilt, infection upon infection was defeated. It was almost like a battle-ground, where she didn't lose a centimetre, but gained ground every second.

Finally nothing was left to heal. Slowly but surely she withdrew. Her magic had been so long in his body that he needed a few seconds to get used to his own magic again. At least she was out. She managed to notice that it was dark outside; she'd been there for hours. Then she fainted of exhaustion.

~*~

The exhausted Hermione was placed in a bed in a private room. Madam Pomfrey had checked her and found nothing but total exhaustion. Fortunately for Hermione, her cover-story had been 'lessons with Madam Pomfrey', so no one would get suspicious when she didn't return to the Gryffindor common room at once. They would only assume that she was helping the injured. Dumbledore returned to his office, where he had a long conversation with the leader of the Auror squadron, Jonathan Storm. He was a young, sympathetic man, and he could tell Dumbledore that his commanders did everything they could to get Fudge removed. Though the man had admitted that You-Know-Who had returned, Fudge was doing his best to make Storm's job as difficult as possible. He refused to let anyone be trained as Aurors, and he still refused to let out the truth about Harry Potter.

"Quote: 'Such information will set our world in an uproar. We don't know if it's true either; this 'illusion' could be a trick from Potter.' Unquote." The brown haired man sighed. "And he won't even listen! Mr. Potter is both powerful and smart when he's able to escape Azkaban and keep us fooled with an illusion for two years! How old was he at the time? Sixteen?"

"Fifteen," Dumbledore answered.

"Oh. Well, it cannot be a hoax. And not one of our spies among the Death Eaters has told anything about him, so he isn't trying to join You-Know-Who either." Jonathan said, dejected. "But will Fudge listen? Noooo."

Dumbledore chuckled. "An election is planned, and will take place in a month or so. I do not believe that Cornelius will be re-elected. We must also make sure that Lucius Malfoy is not elected, something that can happen, as he has many supporters."

"But that's easy!" Jonathan exclaimed. "You say his son was the one who invited them in. That should be enough."

"I'm afraid not, Jonathan. My binding to the shields and Hogwarts herself can tell me who invited them, and where they are when they are on Hogwarts' ground, but there is no way I can prove it," Dumbledore replied.

Jonathan sighed. "And we won't get anything out of those we captured, as they don't know anything. Then how are we going to kick Malfoy's ass?" Then he blushed, as he realised what he'd said, in front of the one wizard Voldemort feared.

Dumbledore smiled amusedly. "Ah, how are we going to do that?" he asked no one in particularly. Jonathan sat up eagerly; he'd worked a bit together with the Headmaster, though he was almost a century older than him, and knew this look.

"What do you have in mind?" he asked. The Headmaster was planning something, that much was obvious.

"A niece of Professor McGonagall will help us." When Dumbledore saw the confused look at the younger man's face, he continued. "Marice Newman. She didn't flee to Asia as many believed." The confused expression on Jonathan's face turned to one of delight.

"How excellent! She will be able to get people to distrust Malfoy!" Then he raised an eyebrow at the Headmaster. "Honestly Albus, how did you end up in Gryffindor?" Dumbledore chose to ignore the question.

"And we need a valid candidate. One who will take the problem seriously, and then we need Marice to 'recommend' him." Dumbledore said, and Jonathan grinned. The man had a plan for everything! "Do you have anyone who would be fitting for the position?" Dumbledore then asked.

Jonathan frowned. "I'd like to have someone close to the Aurors and The Order of Phoenix. Preferably a secret Order of Phoenix member working at the Ministry."

"You and I have the same person in mind then?"

"If you are thinking Arthur Weasley; yes," Jonathan answered.

"Indeed." Dumbledore said. "Marice will do what she can. But now, to more urgent matters." Dumbledore turned serious. "It worries me that they managed to attack Hogwarts. We need more protection. Frankly speaking I didn't believe that Voldemort" -Jonathan flinched- "would attack the school so soon. I didn't think he was strong enough."

"That will be taken care of. I have orders to leave twenty of my men here at Hogwarts, and powerful spellcasters will be sent to put up additional wards," the Auror said. "Of course, we cannot provide absolute protection, but no one can in these days."

Dumbledore nodded. "I understand."

They sat in silence a while, both men in deep thought. Jonathan spoke first. "I'm astounded, I didn't know anyone could survive the Avada Kedavra curse."

"Indeed, I have only heard of it once. And then Lily Potter provided it." Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "He's still unconscious in the Hospital wing. We have to wait until he awakes before we can question him."

"I'd like to know more about him; he's a better dueller than my best men. He must be very powerful." Jonathan said.

"Indeed," Dumbledore answered. "He's a very good Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor too. His parents were Death Eaters. He escaped from them and came to Beauxbatons."

Jonathan's eyebrows went up. "Death Eaters you say? Do you know their names?"

"Ahh, yes. Let me think...Anderson. Eric and Michelle Anderson. He changed his name to Atos when he came to Beauxbatons, not to be recognised." Dumbledore said, and Jonathan frowned again.

"Anderson? I just..."

Dumbledore looked at him curiously. "Something wrong?"

Jonathan shook his head. "No, I just didn't know they had a son. Of course, the Eric Anderson I've heard of doesn't have to be Mr. Atos father." He paused. "You don't mind if I do some research on him?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "Not at all."

Jonathan nodded thoughtfully, not noticing he'd sent Dumbledore deeper into thought. After a while Dumbledore broke out of his thoughts, and into Jonathan's.

"Now, I think that was all. When do you leave?" the Headmaster asked.

"Tomorrow I guess, after I've spoken to Mr. Atos." Jonathan replied pointedly, emphasising that there was no way the Headmaster could stop him.

"Very well," Dumbledore answered, somewhat amused. "We'll talk then. Good night."

"Good night," Jonathan said, and left the Headmaster to his own thoughts.

~*~

Darkness. Pain. But what was that smell? Then he recognised it. The all too familiar 'Hospital Wing' smell. He groaned. Not again!

Harry stirred and tried to open his eyes. He shut them immediately, as he found the light painfully bright. He groaned again, and tried to move, but stopped, as pain shot through his body. What happened? He opened his eyes again, more cautiously. He could see the blurred form of the Headmaster. What a surprise. Isn't he always here when I decide to get myself killed?

"Harry?" Dumbledore said. "Can you hear me?"

Harry grunted. "Yes, I can hear yo-" Memories came flooding back, Christian, The Golden Mask, Azkaban, Voldemort, the fight. "Shit." Noooo! How could I be so stupid!!! Harry did his best to resist the temptation it was to jump out of the window. Dumbledore didn't seem to hear his cursing.

"Indeed," he said. "To think you've been here all term, and I didn't find out. I'm getting old."

Harry continued to curse himself in his head. Damn! Damn! DAMN!

"No need to be so angry," Dumbledore continued. "I haven't told anyone. In fact you only just confirmed my suspicions."

I'm gonna hang myself. No, scratch that; jump off a cliff.

"And now I'm curious. Are you really the Citatio?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry groaned. Despite the pain he drew himself up in a sitting position, and managed to get Dumbledore into focus. He glared at the Headmaster, who seemed overly amused.

"You know I could blast you from here to the South Pole without much effort?" he asked.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'."

Harry groaned again and laid his head in his hands. It was no use remaining in this 'Christian' form any longer, and he sensed powerful silencing and locking charms on the whole room. He then noticed that it wasn't the Hospital Wing. Oh, great. I've got my own room. Does Madam Pomfrey think I'm going to make this a habit?

He searched inside himself and froze. His hand went to the infected wound. It wasn't there. His eyes widened in fear, and he searched frantically for the small disturbance or 'knot' in his magic which held 'Christian' in place. Then he sighed. It was still there, un-changed. Hermione hadn't touched it when she healed him. She'd only removed the remainder of the Avada Kedavra block. What if she suddenly had found herself healing her Professor in one second, and then him the next? Catastrophe was an understatement. He removed it.

"My, my, Harry, you have changed." Dumbledore said, eyeing the youth in front of him. And he had. The scrawny little boy he'd had as a student two years ago was gone. He was still lean and slender, but now tall, muscled and well-proportioned. His emerald-green eyes shone with a special and intense light, and his unruly black hair was as unruly as ever, though shorter.

"Two years is a long time," Harry answered calmly. "Especially when you are alone." Dumbledore sighed when he heard the bitterness in his voice. It wasn't much, but it was there. It hurt to know that he had been one of those who caused it.

"Harry, I have, for the whole year wanted to apologise for what I did." Harry was silent. There was no need for the Headmaster to apologise, as he had forgiven him long ago, but he sensed that it was important to him, if not only for his own sake. "I know it cannot change what happened, and I know it is stupid to go around and feel guilty, as I told you numerous times after your fourth year. And despite the potion I was given, I feel like I should have known better. So I'm sorry."

Harry smiled slightly."Thank you, Professor. I have already forgiven you. And as you said, nothing can change the past. But now I want to know how you figured it."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Ahh. I didn't start to suspect you before you started the training with Ms. Granger. You seemed to know what she felt and thought, like you had been friends for a long time. I also suspected that you -though I didn't know it was you then- were the Citatio, and you knew very much about them, being the seventeen year old you are. Later, I noticed that you were very familiar with the castle; you didn't come too late to one staff-meeting with the excuse 'I got lost', you knew about the Slytherin-Gryffindor rivalry-"

"What!" Harry exclaimed. "I tried to hide that fact!"

"You also managed it. To everybody except me. You also seemed overly amused when conversing with Severus, as if you knew something he didn't." Dumbledore said.

Harry grinned. It had been very funny playing with Snape. He could only hope he never found out. Dumbledore continued. "The final piece snapped into place when I told Jonathan Storm that you'd said you were the son of Eric and Michelle Anderson. He didn't seem to think that the couple had a son."

Harry nodded. "I know, it was the only flaw in my plan. But to my defence I have to say that I didn't have much time. I had to get into Beauxbatons as fast as possible and get my graduation papers, so I had a background-story."

"Indeed. But you graduated after only a year. Where were you the following year?" The Headmaster inquired, and Harry sighed. It was no use in keeping secrets from him, he could might as well tell him.

"Oxford," he said. "I took some muggle courses. That's how I found out how to block the Avada Kedavra."

"You aren't the only wizard who has taken muggle courses, Harry," Dumbledore said.

"No, but I'm the most brilliant so far. I think, only Hermione could do it better than me." He said it in a normal tone, not bragging.

"Yes, indeed." Dumbledore said. "She refused to skip sixth year and go directly to seventh. Wouldn't be an outsider, she said."

Harry smiled slightly. That was Hermione all right. Beautiful, loving, sweet Hermione. He sighed. He couldn't disregard it anymore; he had admitted for himself that he had feelings for her. Not as a Professor, not as a friend, but as something more. He'd even come so far that he felt he could trust her. But he wouldn't let himself trust her. He had to tell her, soon, and then it would be difficult to keep the professional distance he needed. She was growing stronger, and he feared the day when she would discover her Soul-Searching. If she didn't know about him then, she would find out by reading his memories, as no mental shield could stand against Soul-Searching when not controlled, and that was why everyone who was discovered to have this Talent were 'stilled', as it was called. A block was placed in his or her mind, so the person wasn't able to read memories unless another person used the special 'Memory Block' charm to remove it. Only a few persons knew this charm, everyone were questioners for the court, and when they stepped down their memory were modified. This were done to persons who had the Mind-readinga Talent too. However Harry wouldn't allow this to happen to Hermione; it was to valuable in the fight against Voldemort. The only problem was that other persons with Soul-Searching Talent could sense other Soul-Searchers, even though they were stilled, and the same went for the other Talents. He knew that they sent such persons to Hogwarts regularly to check on the students, and he'd had lot of trouble hiding from them when he was a student.

But the main problem was that the same thing as when she discovered her Empathy would happen; she would read everybodys' memories until she figured how to control it. He had to tell her before that happened, because if he didn't, he doubted she would ever trust him. He shook it off. They didn't need trust, only co-operation. And whether she liked it or not, they would soon be forced to co-operate. He didn't like it in the least- He cursed himself again. His head had probably not recovered properly from the Avada Kedavra.

"Hermione!" he suddenly exclaimed, shocked that he had forgotten to ask about her. "How is she?"

"Exhausted and sleeping, but fine. Still in shock I believe. She was the one they were after; they knew she was a Pectal." Dumbledore answered.

Harry sighed in relief. "Yes, they did. I had a vision about it at the staff meeting."

"Ahh, so it was a vision. I thought so," Dumbledore said.

Harry's eyebrows arched into his hairline. "Does anything go by without you noticing?" he asked incredulously.

"Not much," Dumbledore chuckled. Then he turned serious. "You should tell her."

Harry bowed his head. "I-I know." He'd wanted to tell her more than once, when he saw her struggle with a task he'd given her, wanting to please him, but not making it; or when she was close to fainting from exhaustion; or close to tears of frustration or pain. It was difficult being a Citatio or a Pectal, and sometimes he so dearly wanted to scoop her into his arms and tell her that he was Harry, and that he was the Citatio. It would have made it so much easier for her. But he never did. And he hated himself for it. It was cowardly, he knew. He didn't dare to trust her out of fear of getting hurt, and he caused her pain in the process. That much for a Gryffindor.

Dumbledore broke into his thoughts. "I'm going to bring Jonathan in here. He is very curious on how you managed to reflect the Killing curse. I hope, for your secrecy's sake, that it doesn't require Citatio Powers, because that could be difficult to explain." Harry nodded and as Dumbledore stood, he changed back to Christian.

"And Harry?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes?"

"Remember: Always trust your instincts," the Headmaster advised.

It took a couple seconds before Harry realised what he meant. 'Trust your instinct' was something he'd told Hermione hundreds upon hundreds of times. Dumbledore said he should trust his instincts concerning Hermione. He sat dumb-struck, a slight blush creeping onto his face. He's a Mind-reader or something? No, then I would know. He'd didn't often try to read anybody's mind, but he could sense other Mind-readers when they were around.

As if reading his mind, Dumbledore chuckled. "No, Harry, I'm not a Mind-reader. I'm an Empath." Oh. That makes sense. Explains a lot. Dumbledore removed the silencing charms and locking charms and slipped out of the room. Christian laid back on his pillow. But how did he manage to hide that from Hermione? As an Empath she should be able to sense other Empaths. I'm never going to understand the man. Harry sighed. And note to self: Never let your shields down, especially not in his presence...

~*~

"Professor Atos?"

Harry raised an eyebrow at the man who had entered his private 'Hospital Wing'. "Yes, Mr. Storm? Anything I can help you with?"

"Yes, I think there is," the man answered. "Firstly, you have managed something the wizarding world has tried to accomplish for years; blocking the killing curse. Secondly, I do believe you are hiding something. I know about a -now dead- Death Eater couple, named Eric and Michelle Anderson, who you say you are the son of. As far as I know, they never had any children. Please explain this, Professor."

Harry smiled wryly. "I'll do that, Mr. Storm," he said, and waited until Jonathan met his gaze. "Mr. Jonathan Storm. I'm going to tell you about the killing curse. But the matter concerning Eric and Michelle Anderson and me, you shall ignore. It doesn't matter to you. When you leave this room, you will be content with the answer you got, and ask no more," he said, and Jonathan Storm's eyes glazed over as Harry used his Persuasion Talent on him. Three seconds later he snapped out of it, looking confused for a couple of seconds.

"Ahh, yes. I'd like to know how you managed to block the killing curse, Mr. Atos," he said. "If my Aurors could block it, we would get an advantage on the Death Eaters."

"Yes, Mr. Storm, that's an interesting question," Harry said. "I figured it when I studied at Oxford. Oxford is a Muggle University," he added when he saw Jonathan didn't recognise it. "You see, when a human dies, all the cells in his or her body stop working. So when hit by the Avada Kedavra, this curse kill every cell in your body. However, I figured it is possible to fool it. What if you make an exact copy of every cell, and then lower the temperature in your real cells?"

Jonathan's eyes lit up. "The Avada Kedavra will 'think' the copy is you, and that you are a dead thing. It cannot hurt a dead thing, so it will kill the copy, but not you. Brilliant, Mr. Atos!"

Harry smiled. "Yes, but making an exact copy of yourself is a bit difficult, and a bit visible. So, I tried to make some kind of shield that the curse could mistake for me, and that was invisible. Therefore, I made a copy of my skin-cells, and made it invisible. Once used, it must be renewed. I hadn't tested it on humans before. But I guess it worked, didn't it?" He asked dryly.

Jonathan grinned. "Still needs some work, as you were unconscious for a whole night and day. Better than dead, though." You bet. I would have managed quite fine if it hadn't been for that damn wound.

~*~

"You did that on purpose!" The male said, furious. The girl squirmed. "So you couldn't join their attack. You know that means you have no useful information for me either?" the girl squirmed again at the threatening tone in the male's voice. "Next time, don't fake a fall off your broom to end up in the Hospital Wing before a big attock or something equally important, or you'll regret it!" The girl tried to get loose from the grip he had on her shoulder. "Promise me that," he hissed.

"I-I promise," she gasped, frightened, before jerking her arm away, and running down the corridor, towards the dungeons. The red-haired male followed her as she ran, a scowl on his face. But then it changed. The scowl disappeared, and was replaced with an expression of confusion, anger, hatred and regret. But it wasn't directed at the girl.

"What am I doing?" he muttered to himself. "What am I doing?"

Harry's eyes flew open. He was in the Hospital Wing, and it was dark outside.

"Oh, Ron, what are you doing?"

~*~

It was weird. Ron didn't really know what to do. He was getting to Parvati, and he had an established, private spy among the Death Eaters. All he needed now, was to graduate and accomplish Auror training. He should be content. Yet he wasn't. He wasn't sure, but he thought it had something with this...'feeling', in his stomach. He didn't have any word for it, nor a way to describe it. But it was there. It wasn't unfamiliar; he'd felt the same in his first year, when they tried to get the Stone before Quirrell, and in his second year, when Harry and Ginny were trapped in the Chamber of Secrets. Both times, Harry ran off with the honour. He'd also felt it in his fourth year, when Harry and Diggory were taken away by the portkey. He had in fact almost ruined everything with his jealousy, and almost destroyed his 'friendship' with Harry. The boy had been so naïve, he had believed him when he told him he was sorry. Yet he didn't deserve what he'd got.

He'd had the same feeling this summer, when rumours said Harry was innocent. Later, Hermione had confirmed it, and told that Harry had escaped from Azkaban two years prior. Yet, he'd felt guilty because of that with Harry. Indeed, guilty. Can you believe that? He hadn't been anything more than a tool to him anyway.

But then again, it was this 'feeling'. It came every time she was out on a meeting or an assignment given by the 'Lord'. Every time, it felt like someone had hit him in his stomach. Maybe he was sick or something.