The Scent of Lightning

Chapter One

"The Cannons lead, 90 to 30, as Wood pulls off a spectacular save against Falcon chaser Hetley. Another sold-out crowd fills the stadium here today. Not long ago it seems, only a few diehards showed up at Cannons' matches, but that was before Oliver Wood took over the captaincy. Back then, the Cannons were last in the league. Now, they're tied for first with the Montrose Magpies. Wood has really turned this team around, and of course quite a bit of the credit goes to their Seeker, Harry Potter.

He was the youngest Seeker ever at Hogwarts and now he's the hottest player in the League. Many are calling him another Krum, and all I can say is that I can't wait to see Potter on the international circuit.

Chaser McDowell scores another for the Cannons, and it's 100-30. A great roar from the crowd - the Snitch has been spotted! Potter is after it. Harrison on his tail. Narrowly evades a Bludger - Potter almost lost it there. Unbelievably, Potter is getting more speed from his broom! Harrison is dropping back. They're skimming the ground now. Potter lunges forward... He's caught the Snitch! The Cannons win!"

Harry zoomed around the pitch, holding the Snitch aloft until he was mobbed by the other team members. They landed, exchanging congratulatory handshakes and hugs.

"Seven tomorrow morning," Wood gasped, his voice hoarse from shouting commands. "Our defense had some gaping holes in it and - "

The team groaned. "Oh, come on, Oliver!" McDowell said. "We just won the match, give us a day off!"

"Eight then," Oliver snapped, heading for the locker rooms. "And don't be late!"

Harry shook his head. Wood was fanatical as ever, and tonight was sure to be late and filled with alcohol. Well, if he fell asleep on his broom tomorrow and split his head open, it wouldn't be his fault.

"Harry! Harry!"

He turned just in time to catch an armful of Hermione. "That was wonderful, Harry! Although if you ever dare do that horrible Sloth-Grip-Roll thing again - "

"Hermione almost had a heart attack," Ron put in with a grin, coming up beside them. "I thought it was brilliant."

"Honestly, Ron, Harry could have been seriously injured! It's absolutely irresponsible of Oliver to keep putting Harry in these situations where he has no protection from the Beaters! That's what they're there for!"

"Oh, you know you love it, Hermione." Ron gave her a kiss on her cheek. "Danger, thrills, excitement!"

Hermione sniffed. "It's all very well until someone breaks their neck, Ron!"

"So, did either of you happen to see Draco anywhere?" Harry asked, hiding a smile.

"Right behind you," a voice said, and Harry quickly turned around. Draco was lounging against the bleachers, wearing his Cannon's T-shirt. Orange shouldn't have looked good on Draco, but it did.

"Hey," Harry said, smiling. "I didn't think you were going to be able to come."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Have I missed one game of yours?"

"Well, no, but I know you had some appointments this afternoon - "

"Cancelled."

Harry went over to him and gave him a kiss.

Draco kissed him back, smiling. "Spectacular flying, by the way."

Harry grinned. "Thanks." He stepped back. "I'm going to go take a shower. I'll meet you guys at the Leaky Cauldron, okay?"

"Yep, see you there, mate," Ron said, and he and Hermione Disapparated.

"Room for two in there?" Draco jerked his head toward the locker rooms.

"Only if you want a lecture from Oliver on the fifty times I should have had the Snitch, but missed it. You know he's hanging around in there, just waiting."

Draco grimaced. "No thanks. We'll just have to agree on making the most of - what did Weasley call it? - the danger, thrills, and excitement when we get home."

v.v.v.v.v.v.

The Leaky Cauldron was crowded and noisy when he arrived. Several other Cannon team members also came there to celebrate after the match, and inevitably other people dropped in - assorted Weasleys, Neville, Dean and Seamus.

"Falcons took the entirely wrong approach, of course. I don't know what their Beaters thought they were doing."

"Yeah, they didn't get a Bludger near any of the Cannons the entire first fifteen minutes!"

"Was that a new idea of Oliver's? Having the Chasers stay low to the ground? Took the Falcons off guard, that's for sure!"

Hermione usually retreated into a corner with her book for the first hour or so when the talk was mainly Quidditch oriented. Although lately Harry had caught her looking over at them with an interested expression.

"We'll make a Quidditch fanatic of you yet, Hermione," he said, coming over to sit next to her. The party was breaking up a little - people going off to their own private conversations.

Hermione sniffed. "I think Ron is fanatical enough for the both of us," she said. "Enough for all of London, in fact." She smiled. "Although I might accept a copy of Quidditch Through the Ages for Christmas."

"I knew it," Harry said, grinning. "So, how are things with you?"

"Well, I've been working with Healer Bostwick from Spell Damage on a way to re-grow bones without using that awful Skele-Gro potion. We've been making progress - should have a spell to test by next week. It's fascinating, working with magic on a molecular level."

"That's great, Hermione. But what about you?"

"Me?"

"Yeah, you. The part of Hermione that isn't the most brilliant experimental Healer St. Mungo's has."

Hermione fiddled with her drink. "I'm great, Harry."

"Really?"

"We're going over to the Burrow to celebrate Bill's birthday tomorrow," Hermione said brightly. "I'm sure you'd be welcome, too."

Harry knew she was avoiding his question, but let it pass. "The Burrow, huh?" He glanced over at Draco. Bill had been talking to him about some Gringott's business, but now Bill was off with the twins, and Draco was sitting at the table with his drink. Alone.

"Not just yet," he said.

"We all miss you, Harry. I know you miss it, too."

"Yeah, I do, but I don't think Draco's ready yet."

Hermione nodded. "How are things going with you two?"

"Good. Really good, except..."

"Except?"

Harry hesitated. I'm afraid. Afraid something will happen to take him away from me. Just like my parents and Sirius. But it felt silly, melodramatic, to say something like that. And anyway, he and Draco had promised each other, hadn't they? They had promised to never leave the other alone ever again.

Hermione laid her hand on his arm. "Harry?"

Harry forced a smile. "I don't know what to get Draco for Christmas," he said. "It's our first together, after all."

Hermione laughed. "You'll think of something. Remember that weird smelling perfume Ron gave me back in fifth year?"

"Yep. Although I don't think weird is the right word. Incredibly strong and pungent if I remember correctly."

"Well, I still have it. I wear some on our anniversary every year. So whatever you give Draco, I know he'll love it."

"I guess so. You want help dragging Ron away from all things Quidditch?"

"Oh, I think I've got it covered," Hermione replied, a gleam in her eye. "Good night, Harry. And good flying."

"Good night, Hermione."

v.v.v.v.v.v.

Stumbling from the fireplace into their living room, Harry coughed and rubbed the soot from his face. He hated Floo powder, but Apparating after a few drinks was a good way to get splinched, and that was the last way Harry wanted to spend the evening. Not when there were other, much, much better things to do.

"Bath first," Draco said, as soon as he stepped from the fireplace. He directed Harry into the bathroom and filled the tub with a flick of his wand.

"You're a god," Harry groaned as he relaxed in the steaming warmth. Draco massaged his shoulders, and Harry felt his muscles, tense and sore from the game, begin to relax.

"Well, the Malfoys have been worshipped for centuries in rural Yugoslavia," Draco murmured in Harry's ear.

"Liar," Harry said, flicking some water half-heartedly in Draco's direction.

When Harry's body no longer felt like it had been trampled by a hippogriff, Draco ushered him from the bath and into a fluffy towel. Harry's mind was just beginning to look forward to the next step - a warm, soft bed and Draco - when there was a commotion from the living room.

"Harry?" Ron's voice. "Harry? Are you around?"

He exchanged an exasperated glance with Draco. "Yeah, I'm here!" he replied, stepping out from the bathroom. Ron's head was sticking up in the fireplace. "What is it?"

"I've just been called down to Headquarters." Ron paused, his face serious. "I hate to ask, but would you mind coming down for a little while?"

Harry frowned. "I'm not an Auror anymore, Ron, in case you forgot."

"I know. You're the only person who can help, though."

"Can't it wait?"

"Not really, no."

"Okay, I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Thanks, mate." Ron's head disappeared.

Harry looked up at Draco. "Sorry about this."

"I'll expect a better apology than that when you get back," Draco said, giving Harry a slightly reproachful look.

"Don't worry." Harry grinned. "I'll make it worth the wait."

Draco smirked and went off to the kitchen. Harry got to his feet, suppressing a groan, and went to put some clothes on. If only it could just be some paperwork that he forgot to finish before he left. Unfortunately, he didn't think that would be the case.

v.v.v.v.v.v.

Harry had never liked being at the Auror Headquarters at night. The lights always seemed too bright, the sounds too loud. A few months away hadn't changed anything, and the less than pleasant circumstances of his departure only increased the uncomfortable feeling. Avoiding the stares of the other Aurors who were working late, he ducked into Ron's office. Ron was sitting in front of a dusty book, looking tired and stressed.

"What's the matter?" Harry asked, shutting the door.

Ron looked up. "Harry. Sorry again about bringing you down here, but I thought you needed to see this. Plus, you're the only Parselmouth I know."

"What does Parseltongue have to do with it?"

Ron gestured for him to take a seat. "Remember when the Aurors went through Malfoy Manor and removed any possible Dark object they found?"

"Right before they burned it to the ground."

Ron frowned. "I don't remember you objecting to it at the time."

"I wasn't with Draco at the time, either," Harry said. "Look, let's not get into this again. What's with the book?"

"Right, sorry." Ron cleared his throat. "Well, the Aurors basically brought back everything from dusty knickknacks to some really nasty Dark artifacts. A research team has been slowly sifting through all the stuff, and today they found this." He pushed the book towards Harry. "It's ancient. Preserving spells are the only thing holding it together. And it's written in Parseltongue. All of it."

Slowly Harry reached out and pulled the book toward him. The cover was blank except for a drawing of a snake. He opened it. Weird marks and symbols filled the pages. "How do they know this is Parseltongue?" he asked.

Ron shifted uncomfortably. "It matches some writing that was found in Voldemort's chambers after...you know."

Harry slammed the book shut. "I can't read it. It's gibberish."

"Did Draco ever mention this stuff to you?"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Ron said hastily. "I just wondered. We need to find out what this is."

Harry crossed his arms. "No. He never mentioned any of this."

Ron massaged his temples. "Look, Harry, do you think you can try to read it one more time?"

"I can't speak Parseltongue without looking at a snake. I don't know how I'm supposed to read it."

"Please, Harry? Who knows what Dark spells might be in there?"

"I know, I know." Harry sighed. He looked at the snake on the cover again - concentrated on how the light glinted off its embossed silver scales. He opened the book.

My world is changing. I was one of the catalysts, but the result is neither one I anticipated nor wanted. Now I face the prospect of much of my work being ignored and forgotten. I am not prepared to accept this fate passively. As one countermeasure, I record here a brief testament to what I have achieved. I do not think anyone would deny, not even Godric, that I have accomplished some remarkable things in my lifetime. I will not record everything - some secrets are best kept until the time is right for their disclosure - but a few select triumphs that show how far I have come and what may yet lie before me.

Harry felt a chill go through him as he read the spidery writing, thin and faded from time. "I think this belonged to Salazar Slytherin," he said.

"Slytherin? What makes you say that?"

"It makes sense that the Malfoys would want to collect something from a famous wizard like Slytherin. Plus, he mentions 'Godric' right here at the beginning."

"Godric Gryffindor." Ron gave a low whistle. "Well what's old Salazar talking about? How awful half-bloods are?"

"No. At least not yet." Reluctantly, Harry flipped through a few more pages. What he really wanted to do was get up and leave. Go back to Draco. The book reminded him of the Chamber of Secrets. He could almost smell the cold reptilian stink of the place. "It looks like a record of spells he came up with that he thought were particularly wonderful."

Ron shuddered. "Let me guess. Nasty variations on Cruciatus."

Harry was staring down at the one of the last pages in the book. I realise that I tempt Fate by writing this down..."I'm not really sure," Harry said. This book may yet fall into the hands of those who would rather destroy than create, yet I find I cannot resist..."It's not like he has names for them." Death is a mystery which has taunted the greatest witches and wizards. But is it final? What might one learn in the beyond? If one were to return from that - perhaps it would be with powers this world has never seen. "I think he's recorded the theory behind the spell, rather than the actual spell itself. It looks like Hermione's Arithmancy textbook."

So I will tempt Fate and write this down. After all, there is nothing so satisfying as a worthy adversary.

"Figures that the Malfoys would have something of Slytherin's." Ron yawned. "But as long as the book isn't going to blow up or anything, I think I'll leave it for tomorrow. Thanks for coming down here and checking it out, mate."

"Sure." Harry felt numb. It felt like a huge wave was crashing down on him. He could leave. Say he really didn't have the time right now - that it didn't look like there was anything important there anyway. But - "If you want, I can take it home and write out a translation for you."

"That would be great, Harry." He could tell Ron was relieved at not having to ask Harry himself. "If it won't take too much time."

"It's no problem."

"And, uh, we'll just keep it between ourselves that you have it, okay?"

"Right." Harry slipped the book into his cloak pocket. Ron locked up his office, and they walked back up to the Atrium.

Ron took a pinch of Floo powder and disappeared into the green flames with a good night wave. Harry took a handful of powder, but didn't throw it in the fire. His breathing sounded loud in the huge, empty room. This was where he had cast Cruciatus on Bellatrix. Where Voldemort had possessed him, the night Sirius was killed. Why can't I just forget? Why do I have to be reminded of it? His fingers curled around the hard edges of the book. The Dark Arts. Slytherin. Voldemort. "Why can't you leave me alone?" he shouted suddenly, and his voice echoed back at him, then left him to an empty silence.

v.v.v.v.v.v.

Draco was lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, when he heard Harry stumble out of the fireplace. He expected Harry to come directly to bed, but the minutes ticked by with no sign of him. Finally, Draco got up to see what was going on.

Harry was sitting at the kitchen table, a sheet of parchment before him and a quill in hand. He was studying an old book, occasionally writing something down. "What's that?" Draco asked.

Harry jumped, a blob of ink spattering onto the parchment. Cursing, Harry blotted at it with his sleeve. "I thought you were asleep," he said, glancing up at Draco.

"Well, I'm not. What is that?" he asked again.

"A book."

"I can see that. What book?"

"Nothing. It's Auror business."

"And you're not an Auror. If you can know, so can I."

"Look, it's not important. Ron needs me to translate it, that's all."

"Not important. And yet here you are at two in the morning, scribbling away frantically. If it's not important you could leave it until a decent hour."

Harry took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "I just want to finish it," he said. "Get it over with."

"Get what over with?"

Harry was silent. Biting back an exasperated noise, Draco leaned over and snatched up the book.

"Hey - give it back!" Harry grabbed for it, but Draco moved away, putting the table between them. He opened the book and scanned a page.

"It's all weird scribbles." He turned it upside down. Then a thought struck him, and he narrowed his eyes. "Is this Parseltongue?"

Harry scowled. "Yes."

A chill ran through Draco. "It's not...his...is it?" he whispered. The book slipped from his fingers and clattered to the floor.

"No," Harry said, "It's not Voldemort's." He picked the book up and flipped back to the page he had been translating. "It's Salazar Slytherin's. Although I'm surprised you don't know that already."

"How in hell am I supposed to know that?"

"They found it in your house."

"The Manor?"

"Yes, the bloody Manor," Harry muttered and started writing again.

Draco stared at him for a few moments. "What is with you?" he finally asked.

"I'm fine." Harry didn't look up.

"You're not fine. Any idiot can see that."

"I'm fine," Harry repeated. "Can we not talk about this now? I'm going to translate this and send it back to Ron. That's all. It's not important."

Draco stared at Harry for a few more moments, then shook his head. "Okay, whatever. I'm going to bed. Sure you don't want to come?"

Harry didn't respond. Sighing, Draco got up and went to the door. "Good night, Harry," he said softly, but Harry just kept writing.

v.v.v.v.v.v.

"Ron?"

Ron yawned. "Yeah?"

He felt Hermione roll over to face him. "I hope you're getting paid overtime for tonight. I mean was it really necessary to haul you down there at midnight?"

Ron stifled a groan. Wonderful. Hermione was curious about what he had been doing. "It wasn't anything major, sweetheart. Nothing Harry and I couldn't handle." Shit. He had mentioned Harry.

"Harry?" Hermione said sharply. "What was he doing there?"

"He was just helping me out a little."

"Ron," Hermione began in a stern tone, "we talked about this before. Harry's trying to get away from all of that. He doesn't need you pulling him back in."

"I know, I know. But he was the only one who could...do what needed to be done," Ron finished lamely.

"And that was?"

Ron sighed. He could, of course, tell Hermione that it was confidential information, and he really couldn't disclose it to her. He knew she wouldn't press him if he said that. Still, there wasn't really a good reason not to tell her. Harry had said there wasn't anything dangerous in the book. Just some old spells. "We found a book in the stuff we took from Malfoy Manor. It was written in Parseltongue, and - "

"Harry is the only one who could read it."

"Which I was about to say." Ron gave her a glare which she couldn't see. "Anyway, it turns out it was written by Salazar Slytherin. Bunch of spells he made up or something. Harry couldn't make heads or tails of them, though - said they reminded him of your Arithmancy textbook."

"How fascinating," Hermione murmured. "Spells written by Salazar Slytherin. I wonder what they do?"

"Well, Harry's translating it for me. Then we'll chuck it over to some Committee or other." Ron yawned again. "Any more questions, or can I go to sleep?" He leaned over and kissed Hermione to show he didn't really mind.

"No, no more questions," Hermione said, absently returning his kiss.