Beyond Boundaries

Chapter Nine: Untold Truths

His head ached. He tried to open his eyes, and moaned in pain. For a second, he wondered where he was, before the memories came flooding back. He groaned again. Blasted Voldemort! He was planning something, that much was sure. And he couldn't count on his foresight. Can I ever? He thought morosely. He managed to get up into a sitting position, and glanced at his clock. He'd been out for ten minutes, so it wasn't likely that anyone had noticed his absence. And if someone had, he could only tell them that he'd felt like he was going to pass out, and didn't like the idea of doing it in front of the whole class, so he'd found an empty classroom. And currently he was on very good terms with the Aurors, as he was the one who had found out how to block the killing curse, so the ones who were guarding the castle probably wouldn't bother him much. Except if they wanted to ask him -for the thousandth time- if he had a block for the Cruciatus too. Which he had, of course, since he as a Citatio could absorb it and send it back out again. It wasn't so powerful that this was impossible, unless it was cast by Dumbledore or Voldemort. Or Hermione. But he couldn't tell the Aurors that.

Cursing Voldemort in different terms, and showing off quite a colourful language, he decided he had to talk to Dumbledore. Voldemort most likely had a plan, as he after all had waited sixteen years, and the last failed attack would probably not rock his plans in the slightest. He had a suspicion that this attack had been an impulse, an almost desperate attempt to get Hermione. Unfortunately, it was the ever-present 'almost'. However, the worst thing was that he knew where Harry was, and who he was pretending to be, as well as knowing about Hermione. Well, he probably won't tell it to the press, so there I'm safe. It is more likely that he's going to hatch a plan to get 'Christian' in a bad light. Maybe get him charged for murder. Harry thought sarcastically, and was in fact thankful that Dumbledore had discovered who he was, as he no longer was alone in it. He didn't have to go carrying his sinister secrets alone anymore. He could count on Sirius and Remus's help too, though Sirius was busy with helping Hermione with her animagus forms, and he was excited as a child about her progress. Yesterday, he'd been talking constantly about how quickly she learned, until Harry dryly commented that he'd make a great teacher. Then he'd shut up quickly, leaving Harry and Remus snickering.

He didn't really know what Remus had thought about him being charged, as he hadn't been in England when it happened. He had probably, though maybe not at the bottom of his heart, believed in the charges. Frankly, Harry didn't care. He wanted to trust the werewolf, and what he didn't know, couldn't kill him. Well, okay, it could, but that was beside the point.

After the attack they'd increased the number of Hermione's lessons, so now she had training sessions on Saturday, Sunday, Tuesday and Thursday. It was tiresome, but Harry knew she could manage. However, he was worried because of her progress. Even though she progressed quickly, she didn't progress quickly enough. It was weird really. He'd been worried that she might become more powerful than he was because he saw her progressing so fast. Now he was worried because she didn't progress fast enough.

If only he knew more! He was probably the person on earth who knew most about Pectals and Citatios, but yet he didn't know much. Not as much as he needed. He didn't know if Hermione's progress was normal or not. By the way, of course it wasn't, as she was supposed to be trained by a Citatio, and not a wizard. He didn't know how to tell how powerful she was, or how powerful he was, or if either of them was more powerful than the other. The first few months he'd been worried that she would be the more powerful one, which would give her an advantage, but he wasn't so sure any longer. After all, he hadn't known half of the things he'd told Hermione, when they had first met. In fact, he hadn't known what he was until his second year at Hogwarts. But however it was, advantage or not, it didn't bother him anymore.

Startled, he suddenly noticed that he stood in front of the entrance to Dumbledore's office. He'd been so deep in his thoughts that he hadn't realised that his legs were carrying him here. He sighed and spoke the password. I'm too young for this.

~*~

Hermione had had some weird dreams lately, all of them containing Harry or Professor Atos, though only a few were of the embarrassing kind she'd experienced earlier. She didn't know if she should be relieved or not, because the new dreams were just confusing. She also had dreams about things that had happened. She had dreamt about when she discovered her Water-Manipulation, about her first lesson with Professor Atos, etc. etc. And then of course; the embarrassing, fluffy ones. And yet, she always felt rested when she woke up, even if the dream had been a scary nightmare. It was so confusing!

Hermione sighed, and focused on her Telekinesis Talent, and the sheet of paper came flying towards her. She was becoming quite good at it now. The sheet was something Professor Atos had found for her, and on top of the page you could read: The Pectal. It was less than one page. Christian had been honest when he said there existed very little information on Pectals.

'The Pectal (Pek-tal)

The Pectal is always a female. Just like the Citatio she always has blue eyes, and she is very powerful, though her husband, who always is a Citatio is more powerful. Her eyes shine silver when she uses her power, while the Citatio's shine gold.

It is uncertain whether or not a Pectal is born about the same time as a Citatio, or if there can be more than one Citatio or Pectal at the same time. However, the Pectal needs the Citatio to survive, so it is likely that a Pectal cannot be born without a Citatio being born within a few years before or after.'

Hermione gritted her teeth. The whole text, which was ridiculously short, oozed of sexism, and was wrong in more than one place. 'She always has blue eyes.' Yeah, right, Hermione thought to herself. Just like the Citatio? She growled. The scripts were so confusing, and didn't agree with each other. One said the Citatio had green eyes, another one red, while this one said blue. Harry's eyes were green. He was the Citatio, she was sure of it. And her eyes were brown, dammit! Not blue! And the sentence: 'Her husband, who always is a Citatio is more powerful', sent Hermione into a fit of anger. How could the author of this piece of crap, whoever it was, know that?

And that rubbish about the Pectal being unable to survive without a Citatio. She was still alive, wasn't she? But yet, she hadn't yet managed to make any illusions, or charm anything with her Power. The only things she managed so far, were curses, hexes, shields and jinxes. Professor Atos said she'd come a long way, but there was still so far to go! Hermione couldn't see the end of it, and right now she was tired, pissed off and bored. So therefore, she went back to her favourite hobby: reading. As long as it wasn't something as confusing and mind-boggling as the Pectal stuff, she'd manage. Besides, she had a history essay to write.

~*~

'Ancient History', by Frank O'Shea. Hermione picked it out of the shelves. 'Old Prophecies', by Cecilia Nensh. Hermione snorted. Divination wasn't something she believed in. She'd searched the shelves for hours, trying to find something to write about. They were supposed to choose a time-period and write about important happenings in that time. Yet, Hermione hadn't found anything useful. She sighed. The essay was due in a week, so she had to get started. Should she try the restricted section? As Head-Girl, she had free entrance. Well, she'd nothing to lose.

Three hours later, and Hermione still had found nothing. She was as far into the restricted section as she could go, covered in dust and spiders' webs. Thank God Ron isn't here. She thought. He'd go nuts. She was about to give up, when a small, thin book caught her attention. Unlike many of the other books in this section, it had a title. The title was in giantish runes, but they had covered those last year, in Ancient Runes, so Hermione had no problems understanding it. 'The Era Of The Chiantesh'alfh', it read. Hermione frowned. 'Chiantesh'alfh'? That sounded familiar, but she couldn't pin-point it. And why was half the title English, and the other half something absolutely not English?

She reached up to take the book out of the shelf. It wouldn't budge. She tried again. The book stood still. She removed the books on either side, and tried again, but it stood as still as ever. Hermione sighed.

A small 'click'. The book disappeared into the back of the shelf. Hermione jumped. The whole shelf slid to the right, into the wall, and revealed a small compartment. Hesitantly, she stuck her hand in, and grabbed onto something. She withdrew her hand, together with a big, black box. She reached in to check if there was anything else in there. There was not. She took a step back, and the shelf slid back. The book: 'The Era Of The Chiantesh'alfh, was gone.

~*~

"Alohomora!" Hermione growled. It was the tenth time she'd tried the unlocking charm, and it had annoyingly little effect, which meant it had no effect at all. She decided to give up the unlocking charm, and try other charms instead. There had to be some more powerful unlocking charms somewhere. But, alas, after three hours of research, she had found nothing that could help her. Of course, she'd found at least ten different unlocking charms, but none of them were able to unlock the box. Then it hit her. She could try to open it with her Powers! Sometimes it was difficult to remember that she was a Pectal. She focused on the lock. It was a simple lock, with a keyhole, but no key. Silvery threads started to form out of thin air, into something that resembled a key. Carefully, Hermione moved the threads into the hole, and she allowed the threads to fill the empty spaces, before she froze them. Excitedly, she turned the now stiff key, and with a small 'click', the lid sprung open.

An old, dusty smell emitted from the box, as Hermione tried to find out what it contained. It turned out to be two leather-bound books, and though they had to be very old, they were very well preserved. Preserving charms, Hermione guessed. She could also sense them, and to her astonishment she noticed that they were several centuries old. The charms had been cast at least nine hundred years ago. But the bad thing was, that the two books were written in an alphabet and language she couldn't decipher. Oh, well. She could try to find out what language it was tomorrow. Right now she had to work on her charms essay, that she had to finish before she went to bed. She was planning to turn in early, because she was very tired, because of her lesson with Sirius and McGonagall yesterday. She was starting to get the hang of the Arabian Horse. (She had of course done research, and figured that it really was an Arabian Horse.) Professor McGonagall had decided this form probably would be the easiest, as it was the first that had appeared in the mirror. All she had left now, was to completely transform into the horse, and Hermione had, together with her teachers, been amazed, as she would manage to complete this form within two weeks. McGonagall, Dumbledore and Christian Atos were all extremely pleased, and so was Hermione.

~*~

Harry. But yet it wasn't Harry. She couldn't pinpoint it, but he wasn't the Harry she had betrayed two years ago. Yet he was Harry. He smiled at her, and suddenly, she was in his arms. She didn't mind. He bent down to kiss her, but just before their lips met, he staggered backwards. He was Christian again, and her Professor was clutching his forehead, gasping in pain.

A black horse ran through the forest. A green-eyed Professor Atos glared angrily at her. Voldemort smirked. Sirius, Remus and Dumbledore looked concerned. It was Harry they looked at. No. It was her. No. It was Professor Atos.

Harry looked sad. Guilty

~*~

Hermione jerked awake. She needed a few seconds before she realised where she was; in her own bed at Hogwarts. She'd fallen asleep while reading her charms book. She glanced at her watch, and gasped. It was ten PM, she'd been asleep for almost three hours! It was then the images from the dream started to resurface, making her even more confused than she'd ever been. It seemed like her dreams thought Professor Atos and Harry were the same person. And on occasion, the Golden Mask too. She'd only read about him in the Daily Prophet, and knew that he was powerful. But why should she dream about him?

She looked back to her charms book, and stiffened. It was opened on page 132, and the title was 'The Bubble-Head Charm'. Something tickled at the edge of her memory. Something she should remember...

'The Bubble-Head charm allows a human to breathe underwater. It creates a bubble of air around the caster's head. Unfortunately, it is not very solid, and the smallest touch can destroy it. If you are underwater, you then need to re-cast the charm quickly. It is quite a difficult charm, and needs concentration...'

The book continued on about some of the smaller details. Something was wrong. But what? Suddenly, a memory came back to Hermione. A memory she'd dreamt about.

~*~

Five minutes later they banged their heads on solid ice. Professor Atos's bubble charm was broken, but a new one immediately formed itself around his head. He looked at Hermione. Again, she reached out with the Element, and she could, through the ice, sense where the hole was, and she dragged the Professor in that direction. Thirty seconds later, she could breathe fresh air.

~*~

In the lake that day. She'd discovered her Water-Manipulation Talent. Hermione gulped.

He. Hadn't. Used. A. Wand.

Another memory. They came flooding in now.

~*~

"Now, Miss Granger, try to release the curse," Professor Atos's voice reached through her dazed mind. Yeah, right. Release the curse. "Just try to push it away like you did earlier."

~*~

In Dumbledore's office, when he tested her Pectal abilities. How could he know what she'd done? Or what she had to do?

~*~

"It is called an 'Animagus Mirror'. When you look into this mirror, you will see what kind of animagus form you have. You don't know anything about this, because the dangers of becoming an animagus are so great that we don't want to tell the students about this. What if they should stumble across a mirror and try for themselves, without supervision?" she said, and shot Sirius a glare. Sirius in his turn looked as innocent as ever. Hermione saw Professor Atos raise an eyebrow in amusement.

~*~

Why should her Professor be amused by that? Sirius being an illegal animagus was not something he was supposed to know much about...

If not... If he...No. That wasn't possible. It wasn't. It wasn't. It wasn't possible!!! It couldn't be! But it fit.

Her Professor knowing too much about her, about the school. The Golden Mask being powerful. Harry being gone. It fit. But Hermione couldn't believe it. It couldn't be. It couldn't!

But it had to be.

~*~

It was almost fourteen hours since Harry collapsed in that classroom, and yet again he was in Professor Dumbledore's office, together with Sirius, Remus, and Professor McGonagall. And Dumbledore, of course. Professor McGonagall was currently trying to grasp the fact that her colleague of more than a half year, indeed was her long lost student. Harry tried to resist the urge to laugh, as he'd never seen her that shocked. Thankfully, he hadn't known her very well, as their relationship had always been strictly professional, so he couldn't really blame her for believing he was guilty of those charges. Frankly speaking, he only had three persons who really had hurt him, and he'd already made up with one of them. The only close friends -well, Dumbledore could hardly be counted as a 'friend'- he had ever had, were Ron and Hermione. And he knew things about Ron that few could imagine. The only reason he'd stayed with Ron was that he hoped that he could help Ron out of his self-obsessed and cynical mind. Even though he didn't show it, Ron was helplessly in love with himself, and thought of nothing other than himself. But he had changed from the first time Harry met him. He remembered the gigantic chess board in his first year and the Chamber of Secrets. Those were some of the few times Ron had cared for someone beside himself, but it never lasted, and he hid it so well. So telling him was out of the question. He would probably get jealous of Harry's powers, before trying to find a way to use Harry to advance himself.

Hermione was another matter. He had...certain feelings for her. He knew he couldn't stay angry with her forever, and he wasn't really angry or bitter because of her any longer. Yet he didn't have the guts to tell her. He excused it so easily with bitterness and anger, but he knew that wasn't true. If they became friends again, and lost the professional student-professor relationship, he would never manage to keep his feelings to himself. And that would be catastrophic.

After he'd told Professor McGonagall the whole story, they could start to discuss the matter at hand: Voldemort. All were worried when they learned that Voldemort knew where Harry was, but at the moment they had other things to discuss: the Ministry. It was likely that Voldemort would strike the same day as the election was held, and they had to stop him. Harry told them about the 'keyholes', which in reality were some muggle radars that he'd enchanted to pick up special magical activity, mainly the unforgivables and some other nasty curses. They were linked to his mind, with a combination of his Telepathic ability and a binding spell.

"I can put up some around the Ministry, that will pick up every curse and dangerous charm, and register the magical signature of the caster. Then we'll know exactly who's attacking, and when they're attacking," Harry explained.

"I don't know if that would be very effective, Harry," Professor Dumbledore said. "The Ministry has very good defences, and the Aurors would be alerted immediately. However, if he has a way to get the defences down, and keep the Aurors out, it will be almost impossible to stop him. We have to know more of what Voldemort" -Professor McGonagall and Sirius cringed- "is planning to do, before we can effectively hinder him."

"Hmmm... What does Snape- Severus, know?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore sighed. "Very little. He isn't even a part of the Inner Circle, though he was before his first downfall. It has probably come to Voldemort's" -more cringes- "attention that he isn't very trustworthy, but still, Voldemort needs him. He's an excellent Potions Master, and is a very skilled dueller. Besides, he's inside Hogwarts. The bad thing is, that he never can give us any information, as Voldemort is very secretive. He hardly knows the names of any of the new Death Eaters. It seems Voldemort is trying to prevent anyone from betraying the others."

"Is there any other way to get to know what he wants?" It was Sirius who asked.

"Tell the Ministry that they probably will be attacked in the very near future, and get a new password on the anti-apparition shields?" Harry said, dryly.

"Harry, anti-apparition shields don't have passwords. They're bound to a person. Or persons. The only way to get them down is if one of the Bonded - that is what they are called - take it down," Sirius said, and Harry glared at his Godfather.

"I was being a bit sarcastic, Sirius, don't you think?" But then he turned to Dumbledore. "Who's Bonded to the anti-apparition shields? And is there any other way to get them down?"

"The identities of the Bonded at the Ministry are top secret Harry. Only the Minister knows. I myself am Bonded to Hogwarts, and those defences can only be taken down by me. However, the defences at the Ministry are more modern, and though stronger, they can not only be taken down by the Bonded, but also can be taken down by killing the Bonded. But for that to work, all of them must be killed, and no one knows who they all are."

"It is enough that one of them is a Death Eater, then." Harry said, but Dumbledore shook his head.

"No, all of the Bonded must agree on taking them down, and those who don't agree, have to be killed before the rest of them can do anything."

"So then Voldemort"-more flinching- "must know who all of them are?" Harry said, thoughtfully. Then he sat back in his chair, a grim smile on his lips.

"Okay, I think I know what to do-" he broke off in mid-sentence and stared at the door. Then, quickly, he Shapeshifted into Christian Atos. "Someone is coming," he said. After a little while, he added: "It's Hermione."

Professor McGonagall frowned disapprovingly. "What is she doing here at this time of night? It's almost eleven PM," she asked.

Harry shook his head. "I don't know."

"Come in," Dumbledore called, the instant Hermione knocked on the door. She entered, and started to speak.

"Professor, I need to speak to you about-" Then she noticed the other people in the room, and Harry saw that she seemed flustered and breathless, as if something had shaken her badly, and then she'd run a long distance. Her eyes stopped at Harr- Christian, and narrowed. She took a deep breath, and composed herself.

"Hello, Harry."

~*~

Harry almost fell off his chair. Literally. His jaw dropped, and so did everyone else's. Except Dumbledore, that is. Surprise. The man could probably walk unfazed through an erupting volcano.

Hermione pressed her lips together, so all they could see was a thin line.

"So I was right then." It wasn't a question. Harry sighed inwardly in resignation, and Shapeshifted back to Harry. It was Hermione's turn to be shocked. Apparently, she hadn't expected that she was right. Then she noticed that neither of the others in the room seemed shocked because of Harry. They were shocked because she knew. Anger flared in her eyes.

"So they know," she said, forcing calm. "And when did you plan on telling me Harry? Tomorrow? Next week? Next month? Next year? Never?" Her voice rose for every word, and Harry felt every one of them as a punch in his stomach. He didn't show it however. He opened his mouth to explain, but Hermione cut him of. She had worked up quite the temper tantrum, and was completely ignoring that she was making a scene in front of three of her teachers and two other adults.

"Honestly Harry, I hadn't expected this of you. You can tell everyone but me! Don't I have the right to know? You're the Citatio! My tutor! And I was your friend once!" The last sentence she screamed.

Harry had had enough. Not only did she stand there screaming at him, she also had the whole thing completely wrong! And did she really believe that everything could go back to normal? Just snap her fingers and he would be back? Like nothing had happened?

All feeling of forgiveness and...other feelings were gone. He walked up to her and fixed his eyes on hers. They too flared with anger.

"Precisely," he whispered, his voice dangerously low. "You were my friend."

Something snapped in Hermione. Not only had she just minutes ago discovered that the man she secretly was in love with indeed was her Professor, but she had also discovered that he hated her. Tears came to her eyes, and hopelessness filled her. But at the same time, she felt the anger flare up again. How dared he?! This wasn't the Harry she knew. He would never purposely hurt anyone like he'd just done. In that moment she hated him.

Harry saw it a second too late. Hermione, confused, depressed and angry, brought up her hand. 'SMACK!'. A mighty slap sent him stumbling. Shocked, he looked up, seeing Hermione stand there, her hand still raised, the other hand clenched by her side, and tears in her eyes. Immediately, he regretted his harsh words, but before he could say anything, she fled the room.

~*~

Hermione ran through the corridors of Hogwarts, not knowing where she was going. Tears streamed down her checks. She knew of course, that what she'd done, what she'd believed, was unforgivable. It was impossible for her and Harry to ever go back to what had been, but yet, getting it smacked in her face like she'd had... She sniffed loudly. Why, why, had she reacted the way she did? She shouldn't have slapped him, but his words hit so hard, and hurt her so badly, crushing all her hopes and all her dreams with four words. 'You were my friend.' She now knew what had been wrong with her 'Dream Harry'. He'd changed during the last two years. He was even more handsome now... 'Stop it girl! You're only hurting yourself!' But she couldn't stop. She couldn't deny her feelings, no matter how much she tried.

'Calm down, girl. Go back to your dorm now. Don't tell anyone. Don't tell anyone.' It was her instinct. She'd learned to trust it like her second nature now, and the 'voice' calmed her. It was comforting and caring, like a cool hand against a feverish forehead. Hermione took a deep breath. She couldn't have resisted it if she wanted to, and as she got away from 'Harry thoughts', her mind started to ponder over the dreams she'd been having. It was like her dreams knew things she didn't know. Like, she didn't know that Harry and Professor Atos were the same person. And the Golden Mask she'd barely read about in the newspapers. And what were all the other weird things that happened in her dreams?

Hermione sighed as she stepped into her Head Girl quarters.

'Go to sleep, you'll feel better in the morning,' The 'voice'/instinct told her. So she did.

~*~

"You know where he is?"

"Yes,"

"Is he ready?"

"No."

"Then we must wait."

"Yes."

"Time is running out."

"There is still time."

"They must be gathered."

"They will be ready in time, my friend."

"I hope you are right."

~*~

Professor McGonagall stared at him, shocked. Remus and Sirius just looked sad, and Dumbledore looked... disappointed? Harry groaned inwardly. He shouldn't have said that; he didn't really mean it. He'd just been so angry. When she came barging in, yelling at him, he'd just snapped. All the confused, bitter and angry feelings he'd stored because of her during the last two and a half years surfaced in those four words. And then he didn't really mean what he said. It was all so frustrating! He just wanted to curl up and cry like a child, letting all his inner demons flow out with the tears. But he wasn't a child anymore, and he couldn't do such a thing.

He took a deep, unsteady breath, rubbed his sore cheek carefully, and sat back in his chair. He looked calmly at the others.

"Well, where was I?" There was a long pause, as the others in the room tried to recover and process what just had happened. Harry used this pause to send a Telepathic message to Hermione, loaded with a good dose of Persuasion, telling her to calm down, go to bed and not tell anyone. He would have to talk with her later. Then he explained his plan to the others, something that resulted in Professor McGonagall raising an eyebrow and asking, rather dryly, how he'd ended up in Gryffindor. Harry smiled stiffly at that. He didn't mention that the Sorting Hat wondered at the same thing.

After the meeting had ended, Harry slowly walked back to his quarters. He was deep in thought, and didn't go to bed right away. He couldn't sleep tonight; he had too much on his mind. He just wished he could Persuade himself to forget tonight, but he knew that was impossible. In the end he couldn't stand the walls of his bedroom any longer. He felt like they were closing in on him.

Irritably, he opened the windows wide open. For a second he stood there, just looking at the starry sky. Then he jumped.

Big, black wings replaced his arms in the middle of his fall, and slowed him down. He glided on them, like a hang-glider, and managed to steer them so he hit the ground just outside the Forbidden Forest. Another few seconds he stood calm, before he abruptly Shifted into a great black horse, and set off into the forest in a wild run.

When Harry was younger, before he knew that he was a wizard, he had often admired horses. He loved to look at them, especially when they were running. He always wished that he could ride one. He wanted to feel the freedom he was sure would come when galloping on a horse. But of course, the Dursleys never let him onto a horse. Dudley rode once, but he managed to fall off the thick, lazy little pony, so his first time also became his last time. So Harry had continued to admire them from afar. Then he came to Hogwarts, and learned about the freedom of flying on a broom, but yet, he never forgot about the horses. In fact, the horse he was now, was the very first form he'd ever Shapeshifted into, and it had been one of the greatest moments of his life, to feel the strength of the great horse, and controlling it. Running like a horse was as calming as flying, and he used the horse form as often as he could, even though he could be both faster and stronger animals.

Harry could feel his hooves pounding against the ground, as he raced through the forest, trying to free himself from his troubled thoughts. In the end he halted in a clearing in the forest, and lifted his horse's head, again looking at the sky. The animals of the forest were startled out of their sleep when the great horse screamed, as horses do, in frustration, anger, pain and sorrow.

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