Harry Potter and the Ancient Order

Chpt. 24. Silver in the Snow

February and March rolled over Harry so quickly that he thought if he blinked, he might end up in mid-May. The O.W.L. assignments from his teachers were mounting so high, he was almost glad he didn't have Quidditch practice every day. The fifth years were all nearing panic status with the mounting homework. Surprisingly, Professor Flitwick gave them the most.

"Here is a list of one hundred and fifty charms you must be able to perform upon request," he told the class before a loud groan. "You will not be tested on all of them. However, you will be tested on fifty of them to be chosen at random at the time of your examination. Some are simple, some you already know, and some you will have to research and spend class time practicing. Any aid you may need, you may ask for my assistance, or the assistance of Mr. Majere, as he will not be taking the O.W.L.'s."

"How come he doesn't have to take them?" Dean asked before he could stop himself.

Xander made a face. "Because I'm not a wizard. How do you expect me to use a wand?"

The class shut up and set about their new task. Hermione, true to form, started to cross off those charms she could already perform, which was nearly three-quarters of the list. Harry was pleased to find out he could already do over half of them, but some looked rather difficult and he didn't look forward to learning them on his own. Ron's list was nearly equivalent to Harry's, so they decided to work together on their research. Xander was a major help to the fifth years, as he seemed to have memorized the library and always pointed them to the correct books without fail.

Krum had given them their list of defensive spells for dueling, which began with the simple ones that they already knew, advanced to the more difficult ones that Harry learned for the Triwizard Tournament, and finished with some he had never heard before. They were to know how to perform each, and be able to identify which ones worked best with their individual wands. To his dismay, Harry found that the more complex ones were best fitted to his wand.

They were allowed to duel in a moderated form, only allowed to cast simple spells to be defended against. This added a bit of excitement to class, as everyone was anxious to face Krum, who would be casting the offensive spells. By the end of March, Harry was able to defend himself against any spell thrown his way, causing Krum to up the stakes to some more difficult spell to defend against. Harry still had no trouble.

Divination had become an absolute bore. Professor Trelawney kept introducing new methods of fortune-telling, while allowing Parvati and Lavender to continue their crystal-gazing. Harry was growing very tired of interpreting a cluster of indistinct shapes, and rolled his eyes when Professor Trelawney began a new topic.

"This week, we will be studying Myomancy, which involves the use of rats," she said as Seamus pretended to vomit on his desk. "We will spread white powder over a board, and allow the rat to move around for a limited time. Animals are very sensitive to the aura of their surroundings, and it is believed that proper concentration on a question that one wishes to be answered will result in the animal to give a hint towards the correct answer. Once the rats have finished, we will interpret the symbols they left behind."

The class began to set up their powder before Dean caused a fit of laughter from the boys. "Look, I'm Keith Richards!" he stated, and pretended to snort the white powder. When he raised his head, he had some of the powder stuck to his nose. "Alright!" he said in his best Keith Richards voice.

"Who's Keith Richards?" asked Ron.

"An Englishman who doesn't know The Stones," said Dean, shaking his head. "Shameful."

"Dears, do pay attention to what you are doing," scolded Professor Trelawney. "You're scattering powder all over my floor."

"Sorry, Professor," said Dean, who was sheepishly wiping his nose.

It took them several minutes to even out their powder, and even longer to think of a question. Harry thought of many questions he wished to know the answer to, but finally settled on one: When will my nightmares end? Ron refused outright to share his question, and blushed furiously when Harry asked him. Finally, they chose their rats, Harry picking a small one that looked energetic in hopes of ending the assignment quickly. Ron picked a rather fat one that refused to move. Frustrated, he poked the fat rodent with his wand, causing the rat to jump clear off the table and Ron to start all over again from the beginning.

Harry sniggered as he examined the patterns left by his rat. It was very hard to figure anything out of the mess the rat had left, so he stood back and unfocused his eyes in hopes of seeing something stand out. Unfortunately, Professor Trelawney noticed his trouble and came over to help.

"Dear, dear me," she said in her misty voice that irritated Harry. He knew it could be no good, and his suspicions were confirmed. "I find that you are troubled by a trauma you have suffered in your young life and seek an answer to the questions that linger."

"Well, duh," Harry muttered under his breath. Everybody knew his story about his parents, so this wasn't exactly an earth-shattering assumption.

"The patterns foretell that the answer lies with one whom you trust," she said, looking pointedly at Harry. "You must allow the wall you have built up around yourself to drop before you can begin the healing process." She lowered her voice even more. "Do you wish to talk about something, dear?"

"No thanks," Harry said quickly. "I think I can find the answer myself, thanks." He didn't mean to be so rude to a teacher, but he was tired of everyone asking him to talk about what was on his mind. Professor Trelawney took the hint and moved to help some of the other students, but not without a last, sad look at Harry.

Harry had fun watching Ron attempt to move his fat, lazy rat to no avail. His rat fell asleep several times, leaving a couple of fat body outlines in his pile of powder, prompting Harry to predict that Ron would be laying dragon eggs in the future. As they cleaned up Ron's mostly unused mess, Lavender called out to Professor Trelawney.

"Ooohh, Professor, did you spill something?" she asked.

"What's that, dear?" said Professor Trelawney in a rather uncaring voice. "Did you spill something?"

"No, Professor, I asked if you spilled something. This rat here has something on its paw."

Several students looked over in interest as the rat began scurrying around the room, looking for a place to hide. Harry immediately saw a silver paw, and he and Ron tore off after the rat, chasing it all around the room.

"What on earth are you two doing?" Professor Trelawney called after them, but they didn't listen. They were too intent on capturing the rat with the silver paw. The tried to corner it under a table, but the rat darted off for the trap door, hitting the floor below with a small thud.

It was amazing how five years of building a friendship resulted in an unspoken link between Harry and Ron, as they had yet to speak to each other in their pursuit of the rodent. Panic beginning to set in; they leapt right off the door, not bothering with the ladder. Harry heard his ankle crack and knew he would pay for it later, but the prospect of finally catching Peter Pettigrew was too great for him to care right now. Professor Trelawney might have ordered them to return to their seats, but neither could tell. They were focused on one thing: catch the rat.

Pettigrew's small four-legged body gave him the advantage, as he scurried down the stairs at an alarming rate. It was all Harry and Ron had in them to keep him within their sights. They passed several students as they tore down the corridors, pushing some out of the way, the rest flattening themselves against the walls to avoid being bowled over by two furious fifteen-year-old wizards.

Thankfully, the snow had yet to completely melt, and they were able to spot Pettigrew's tracks in the snow as they ran out the front door. "Follow the tracks!" Ron shouted needlessly. The snow made it harder to run, and the cold made Harry's injured ankle ache painfully as he tried to keep up. Ron soon outstripped Harry, and when he saw Ron next, he was running through the third years Care of Magical Creatures class as Hagrid was trying to get Ron's attention.

His lungs empty and painful, his ankle really starting to hurt now, and each breath feeling as if he was swallowing razor blades, he managed to shout to Hagrid. "Follow the tracks! We need that rat!" If Hagrid found the order confusing, he didn't show it. He saw Harry's expression and began bounding towards the Forbidden Forest, overtaking Ron in three strides. Harry was forced to limp badly now, the weather seizing up his ankle like a vise. It took him several minutes to join his friends inside the forest, and his heart fell as he saw Ron's frustrated look. The tracks disappeared.

"Dammit," Harry cursed as he hopped on his good leg. They nearly had Pettigrew, again, and he got away, again. He was cursing madly now, not knowing or caring exactly what he was saying. He needed to vent his frustrations, which only mounted when he kicked a tree with his injured leg, sending jolts of pain up to his knee.

"Harry, what was all tha' ruckus about?" Hagrid grumbled, out of breath and not happy with Harry's choice of words. Too angry with himself to speak, he let Ron answer.

"We need to see Professor Dumbledore. Now," he told Hagrid, avoiding the questions Hagrid undoubtedly had ready.

"Firs' Harry needs to see Madame Pomfrey," Hagrid grunted, and gripped Harry's arm with his massive hands.

"Not until we see Professor Dumbledore," said Harry stubbornly. "It's an emergency."

"We'll go up ter the school, an' if we see 'im firs', then we see 'im firs'," Hagrid responded, and began to walk Harry up to the school. "Yer all dismissed," he called out to the third year class, and they led the way up to the school. "S'not good for yeh to be all shoutin' out fer no reason," Hagrid scolded them. "Nearly scared me half ter death."

"It was an emergency, Hagrid," said Ron. "We needed that rat. Dumbledore needs to know about it."

"An' why's that?" said Hagrid, obviously not happy with their lack of answers. Professor Dumbledore was striding down the front steps, saving them from further questioning and preventing them from insulting Hagrid by not telling him what was so urgent.

"Thank you, Hagrid, I will take them from here," said Dumbledore. He wore a very stern look that slightly worried Harry, and Hagrid knew better then to question Dumbledore when he was that serious. "You may go back and prepare for your next lesson."

"Yes, Professor," said Hagrid with a sour look. "If yeh need anythin'..." he trailed off, motioning to his hut.

"If you could meet me in my office after your next lesson, it would be greatly appreciated," said Dumbledore.

"Yes, sir," said Hagrid, happier now that Dumbledore requested his services.

"Come with me, please," said Dumbledore, and he began to walk up the front stairs. "Forgive me," he said, as he noticed Harry struggle up the stairs with help from Ron. He prodded Harry's ankle with his wand, and Harry was able to walk almost normally again. They followed Dumbledore into an empty room just off the library and took a seat on some dusty desks.

"Professor Trelawney came to see me a moment ago," he began. "She had an interesting story about two of her students running out of class after a rat."

Harry and Ron simultaneously broke out into response, drowning each other out. Dumbledore held up a hand for silence.

"I know, boys, I know," he said. "I am not here to scold you. I merely came to join in on the chase when I noticed Peter running across the grounds."

"How-?" Harry tried to ask in amazement, but found himself lost for words.

Professor Dumbledore produced a well-worn slip of parchment and unfolded it. Harry's jaw dropped. It was his old Marauders Map, the one he had gotten from Fred and George, the one that had proven Sirius's innocence to him, the one that young Barty Crouch had "borrowed" from him just last year. He quickly scanned it, but Pettigrew's name was nowhere to be found.

"I've found that this map is more useful than for mischief making," said Dumbledore with a trace of a smile. "I trust you understand my desire to keep it when I discovered it among Alastor Moody's things last term. It has been my greatest aid in school security this year. The exploits of your father and his friends continue to amaze me, Harry, the more I find out about them."

"How did you find out how to work it?" asked Harry.

"Sirius and Remus," said Dumbledore simply. "They have found it rather difficult to confess... certain things to me from their old school days, but they desire the stop Lord Voldemort from returning to power as much as I do."
"Where is Sirius?" asked Harry. "If he were here, he could have caught Pettigrew."

"You'll forgive me when I say that I can't tell you exactly where he is right now, Harry," said Dumbledore. "I can say that his presence here put others in jeopardy, and that his services were better used elsewhere. He will return soon."

Harry sat in silence for a few moments, his head full of questions, yet knowing he would get the same answers as always. He hated not knowing, and disliked the fact that nobody wanted to tell him. He always reasoned that they assumed it was for the best, but as he always inadvertently found himself involved in the middle of everything, he felt that any information he could have would be better for him. He decided to throw caution to the wind and try to get some answers.

"Professor, what's taking Voldemort so long to act?" he asked, not expecting an answer.

"Voldemort is the kind of person whose strength lies in his mind. He knows that the Ministry is still denying his return, so he has all the time he needs. Those few of us who accept the truth," he said this part with a touch of bitterness, "he likes to keep guessing. It's kind of a reverse siege. Keep us on edge and nervous until we let down our guard in frustration. He has his spies planted, and it takes much of our effort to weed them out. Right now, it's just a big game of exchanging covert information. We watch his moves, he watches ours. Much like a chess game."

Harry nodded his head in understanding. It made sense, but still didn't really answer his question, so he tried a different approach. "Sir, who do you think is in the most danger?"

Dumbledore adjusted his glasses, apparently lost in thought. Harry knew that he was trying to figure out a way of wording his response, so he readied himself to read between the lines of his response.

"I can only assume that he will try to surprise whomever poses the greatest threat to his enigma of power. Any who live who mar his credibility as an invincible opponent, I trust they are on top of his list. There are certain... lessons I hope you have learned from your parents, Harry. One is to choose your friends carefully. Keep in mind that because of who you are, those close to you may find themselves in a very unfriendly situation. The other is the ability to find it within yourself to place your trust in those who deserve it, regardless of your personal feelings for them. You may find that your worst enemy is the only one you can turn to."

Harry's head throbbed. Trust Dumbledore to confuse me with an answer, he thought to himself. His thoughts went to his two best friends, Ron and Hermione. What would he do if anything happened to them, simply because they were his friends? Then he thought about Cedric. He was killed because he was in Harry's vicinity. He wondered how Dumbledore could have referred to this as a chess game, when the stakes were so high. These were actual lives, not plastic pawns on a wooden board.

"It is a difficult battle that lies ahead, Harry. It is unfair for a wizard of your age to shoulder such a burden. It is wrong to ask a fifteen year old to weigh the lives of others, to determine whose life is expendable. It is for this reason that I ask you to involve yourself as little as possible," said Dumbledore. "I must insist that you not go looking for Pettigrew. The Forbidden Forest is forbidden for a reason. Now, Ron, would you please help Harry to the hospital wing? Madame Pomfrey truly is the best when it comes to mending bones."

Harry and Ron left the empty classroom and headed to the Hospital Wing in silence. Harry felt satisfied that someone had finally given him a straight answer, and that at least Dumbledore understood his internal struggle to some extent. It was almost spooky how he could read Harry's thoughts.

"I agree with Dumbledore," said Hermione after they filled her in about their afternoon. They found a secluded corner in the Common Room to whisper in private. "We have too much to worry about. Besides, if his cover is blown, I doubt that Pettigrew will show up again."

"Maybe, maybe not," said Harry darkly. He hated being told not to get involved when he was always pushed into it anyway.

"I'm serious, Harry," said Hermione. "Pettigrew's already proven that your life doesn't mean anything to him. Twice already he's put you in danger. Let Dumbledore and Sirius handle it. They know what to do."

"Wormtail is the key to Sirius's freedom," Harry retorted. "If Pettigrew were caught, I could have my godfather back, if I can't have my parents back."

Ron and Hermione sat in silence, not knowing how to respond. They hadn't had anything even remotely close happen to them, so they just didn't understand. They could tell that Harry was slipping back into depression before their very eyes, so Ron broke the silence.

"Harry, you have your godfather regardless of his freedom," he said. "Has he ever failed to show up when you needed him? Has he ever ignored you? He's always been there for you, even though you wanted him dead the first time you met him."

"After twelve years in Azkaban, he didn't have to take the responsibility," added Hermione. "But he did without even being asked to. Sirius is like us. We're here whether you like it or not."

Harry couldn't help but break into a small grin. The loyalty of his friends always made him feel good. They were so selfless in their support of him, even offended if he didn't confide in them. They were his friends because he was Harry, not because he was Famous Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived.

"I know that," said Harry. "I trust you guys with my life."

There came a loud caw-ing from the open window in the Common Room. Despite there still being snow on the ground, someone had opened it for fresh air.

"Shut the window," Xander snapped irritably. He looked up from the thick Runes dictionary he was reading, and threw his quill at the second year whose head was hanging out the window. "Shut the Window!" he yelled louder.

The second year finally shut the window, and there were several loud thumps against the glass. It sounded like the birds outside were trying to fly through the window. After several moments, there was silence.

"More ravens?" Harry asked incredulously. The Common Room was staring at Xander like he was mental.

"I hate those friggin' things," he said, and shut his book with a snap. He kissed Alicia goodnight, and retreated to his dorm, all eyes following him in silence.