The Scent of Lightning

Chapter Five

Practice let out early that day, and Harry couldn't resist the lure of a nap when he got home. He hadn't had another dream about Slytherin since before Christmas, and he was beginning to think that maybe they had just been brought on by the stress of visiting the Chamber of Secrets. Wrong again, as it turned out.

He was standing in front of the Goblet of Fire, telling Cedric to take it. Please no, Harry thought desperately, not this one.

"I'm afraid I must insist." He turned to see Slytherin standing behind him. Unwillingly, he was forced back around to face the Goblet. He and Cedric reached for the handles...

Slytherin froze the dream when Harry reappeared back in the stadium with Cedric's body. Harry was trembling - the pain from the Cruciatus and the cut on his arm, the guilt over Cedric. "What do you want?" he managed to gasp. "Why did you come back?"

Slytherin stepped closer to where Harry was sprawled on the ground. "I was cheated the last time," he said. "Godric, Rowena, Helga - they all thought they knew what was best for the world. They wouldn't listen to me. No one would listen to me. And look where it's gotten you." He shook his head. "A self-righteous Ministry ruling everyone. Half-bloods and Muggleborns running loose. I've seen the way pure-bloods are treated."

An image appeared in the air. Draco - right after Harry had met him again - trying to claw the Dark Mark from his skin.

"Poor boy," Slytherin murmured. "He should have had a strong leader to follow - not this insane despot that I've seen in your mind. Proof of what breeding with Muggles can produce."

"Leave Draco out of this," Harry growled, struggling to get up.

"How much you love him," Slytherin said in a mocking tone. "You, a filthy half-blood. It's disgusting to see the way he looks at you."

Another image - Draco leaning down to kiss Harry gently on the lips. "You have no right to see that!" Harry cried. "Leave us alone!"

Slytherin laughed. "I am needed in this world, Harry. Pure-bloods, like your darling Draco, need help before they become utterly degraded. And who better to help than me? My new powers -"

"You don't have any," Harry broke in. "You couldn't bring your magic back with you."

Slytherin paused. "Very clever. I knew you were smart, powerful. Ah, yes, powerful." He knelt next to Harry. Harry desperately wanted to move, to run, but he was frozen.

"I can taste your power," Slytherin said, trailing his fingers over Harry's cheek. "I need magic. I can feel my own calling to me all the time and I must have another's to sustain me until we can be rejoined. I used up my latest source, you know," Slytherin went on, bending closer. "But you, Harry. With your power, you will last me a long time - until I regain my own magic."

Slytherin hissed and gripped Harry's arms, pinioning them to the side of his body. He leaned forward and pressed his mouth to Harry's. It was horrible - his teeth bit into Harry's lips, and he could taste blood. Slytherin was sucking the air from his lungs. Harry struggled, but couldn't break free. His vision was dimming, his heartbeat sounding loud and frantic in his ears...

"Harry! Harry, wake up!"

Harry started awake, pale and sweating, to find Draco shaking him.

"Are you all right?"

Harry shook his head.

Draco pulled him close. "It was only a dream. You're fine now."

Harry tried to slow his breathing while Draco rubbed the back of his neck. What in the hell had Slytherin done? He put trembling fingers up to his mouth, but they came away clean. No sign of blood.

"Harry?"

He relaxed back in Draco's arms, twisted around so his face was pressed against Draco's shoulder.

"Do you want anything?" Draco asked. "Tea? Something to eat?"

Harry shuddered, remembering the feeling of Slytherin's mouth pressed against his own. "Maybe just some water."

"Okay. I'll be right back."

Draco went into the kitchen. Harry remained on the couch, shivering. The sun had set and it was cold in the room. Harry picked up his wand to light the fire. He cast the spell. Nothing happened. Frowning, he tried again. This time, the fire flared up, but he felt a wave of dizziness wash over him. Odd. He must still be feeling a little shaken up from the dream.

Draco brought him a glass of water and watched carefully while Harry drank it. Harry really didn't want to talk about the dreams right then. "The game will be starting soon," he said. The Wasps were playing the Magpies tonight, and Harry knew that Oliver would want to go into blow-by-blow detail tomorrow. The Magpies were their next match, coming up the second week of February.

"Oh, right," Draco said, frowning a little, but he leaned over and switched on the radio. Harry could feel Draco's eyes still on him, but he pretended to be focused on what the announcer was saying. You will last me a long time. Harry dug his fingers into the couch under the cover of a cushion. It was just a stupid dream.

A little past six there was a knock on the door. It was Ron, holding several Butterbeers. "Mind if I listen to the game with you guys?" he asked. "Hermione's writing up some report for work and got a bit shirty with me when I turned on the radio."

"Not at all," Harry said, motioning Ron to a chair. "I thought we were converting her into a Quidditch fan."

"Still have a ways to go mate," Ron said with a sigh. "You know nothing comes between her and work." He sounded a bit bitter. Harry didn't enquire further, not feeling up to getting into a Ron and Hermione argument just then.

By the time the match was over, with the Magpies winning, Harry thought he had picked out several weaknesses in their Seeker. A tendency to fly high a lot of the time. A slight reluctance to move close to the goal hoops where all the Bludgers were zooming around.

"Hermione wanted to know when would be a good time for you and her to go back to Uffington," Ron was saying.

Harry forced his attention away from imagining new Quidditch moves in his head. "Uh, probably next Tuesday."

Ron nodded. He tossed his Butterbeer cap in the air a few times, and then turned abruptly towards Draco. "I was wondering if you would be willing to give me some help."

"Help?" Draco asked suspiciously.

"Yeah." Ron looked down at the Butterbeer cap he was holding, shook his head, and tossed it onto the table. "Another dead body has turned up - Nora, her name was. Turns out she was Nott's girlfriend."

Ron paused, but Draco said nothing.

"Anyway, I know you got that letter -"

"Wait a second," Harry said, interrupting. "What letter?"

"The one Nott sent," Ron said, frowning. "You said that you didn't know what he was up to, but I was thinking -"

"Hold on," Harry broke in. "Draco, what's all this about?"

Draco avoided Harry's gaze, slumping down in his chair. "Can we talk about his later, Weasley?" he muttered.

"But -" Ron paused. "Oh. You didn't tell him about it, did you?"

"Tell me about what?" Harry asked, feeling increasingly frustrated.

Ron looked from one of them to the other, taking in Harry's darkening expression and Draco's frosty silence. "Uh...I'll let Draco explain," Ron said hastily. "I should really get going."

Ron practically sprinted to the door, closing it quickly behind him. Harry stood up, switched off the radio. "Want to tell me what's going on?" he said into the silence.

"Not especially," Draco muttered. He looked up at Harry, sighed. "Nott sent me a letter. Asked if I wanted to be involved in some project of his. Mentioned my past as a Death Eater."

"And you received this when?"

Draco looked at the floor. "November."

Harry fought down the hurt and anger that was rising in him, tried to keep his voice calm. "Were you planning on ever telling me about it?"

"I - " Draco stopped.

"Well that really makes me feel wonderful. You get invited back to join a little Dark Arts club, and Ron knows about it before I do!"

"I didn't answer Nott," Draco said quickly. "I didn't say yes."

Harry stared at him for a few moments. "But you thought about it, didn't you?"

Draco's silence was answer enough.

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

When Ron got into work the next day there was an owl waiting for him, a scrap of parchment tied to its leg.

Meet me outside Gringotts at 1:00. D. Malfoy.

Ron knew there must have been a nasty scene back at Godric's Hollow after he had left last night. Draco was probably planning on cursing him and wouldn't be at all interested in listening to Ron's idea that he go spy on Nott. Ron glanced at the clock. Two hours in which to come up with a convincing argument.

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

Draco was slumped against a marble pillar when Ron arrived. "You're late," he snapped.

"Sorry - busy morning."

Draco pulled his cloak more closely around him. "Know somewhere private where we can talk?"

"Follow me," Ron said, keeping a wary eye on Draco's wand hand.

He led the way to a dingy tavern - The Hanging Bat - which was more secluded and private than the Leaky Cauldron. They sat down in a shadowed booth, and Ron cleared his throat. "So..."

"You just had to ask about that damn letter, didn't you?" Draco slammed his fist on the table. "Couldn't keep out of other people's business?"

"Hey - it isn't my fault you didn't tell Harry about it."

"Merlin, don't talk to me about Harry. I had to sleep on the bloody couch last night," Draco said with a sullen look.

"You should have known Harry would go completely mental about something like this," Ron couldn't resist saying.

"Thanks for the advice," Draco sneered. "Why did you bring it up in the first place?"

"Oh. Well." Ron took a fortifying swallow from his drink. "See, I'm having some trouble figuring out what Nott is up to, if he's connected to these murders. I thought that since he had asked you to help him, that maybe you could pretend to go along with him for awhile, see if you can find out what's going on."

"Absolutely not."

"But - "

"I'm not a spy," Draco spat. "I'm not going to do your dirty work for you."

"It wouldn't be like that. I'm not asking you to do anything illegal, just talk to Nott, that's all."

"No."

"What if he is a murderer? More people will die if we don't stop him."

Draco shook his head, but something flickered in his expression. Ron forged ahead.

"We can't even figure out how these people died, so there's a good chance Nott has found some new spell or weapon. Two people are already dead - we need to stop him now."

Draco was silent for a few moments. "Fuck this," he finally muttered. "I always thought your side had all these wonderful, pure emotions going for you - courage, empathy, charity - but now I know what it really was - guilt, that's what."

Ron grinned. "Welcome to the Light."

Draco scowled. "I can't promise anything," he said. "I got the letter back in November. Nott will be suspicious that it took me this long to respond."

"You're smart. You'll figure out a good story."

"This is a one-shot thing, though, got that?" Draco said. "I'm not going to be at your beck and call every time you can't manage your own undercover work."

"I can manage just fine -" Ron started to say heatedly, but stopped himself. Getting into an argument was not going to help matters. He needed Draco's help and would just have to put up with him. "So what do you think about Nott?" he asked instead. "Do you think there's a chance he's involved with these murders?"

Draco shrugged. "Hard to say. Nott was always a loner at Hogwarts, but he was smart, ambitious. That's why I don't buy for one minute what he wrote in that letter of his - the part where he asked me to be the leader of this project. Whatever he's up to, it will be to his benefit first. Whether murder is playing a part, well, I guess I won't know until I go talk to him."

Ron nodded. "How soon do you think you can set up a meeting?"

"Hold on," Draco said. "Before we rush into this, there's the little matter of me walking into a potentially hazardous situation. Alone."

"Well, if you want some protection, I could probably arrange to have a team of Aurors standing by."

Draco gave him a condescending look. "Still not too bright, are you?"

Ron made himself count to ten. "Do you want the Aurors or not?"

"Every Auror that I've met, with the exception of you and Harry, would be more likely to help kill me than protect me. No, I already know who I want along for back-up." Draco smiled, not too pleasantly, either. "And I'm sure you'll be able to ensure that he is available."

Ron gave him a suspicious look. "And just who is this person?"

"Gregory Goyle."

"Goyle? No way. He's a convicted Death Eater, just like - "

"Just like me," Draco finished in a low voice.

"Look - I don't even know where he is. The Ministry put him in the same program that you were in - they're not going to release him. Especially not to go wandering around with you and Theodore Nott!"

"You're smart," Draco said in a mocking tone. "You'll figure something out. Because that's the deal - I won't go see Nott unless I have Goyle with me."

"But Goyle would be useless! He can't even protect himself, let alone you if there was trouble."

Draco leaned across the table, his eyes narrowed. "Goyle is my friend. I trust him. That's more important than being able to cast two hundred plus hexes."

Ron opened his mouth, closed it. Damn. Figured that Malfoy would get all wise and high-minded at the worst possible moment. "I'll see what I can do," he muttered.

"Then we have a deal," Draco said, extending his hand.

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

Harry arrived a few minutes early on Tuesday at the car park by Dragon Hill, which was where he and Hermione had agreed to meet. He watched grey clouds race across the sky, chasing the pale winter sun. The past week had not been good, to put it mildly. He was still furious that Draco hadn't told him about that letter. There was such a thing as trust. And then last night - Harry winced at the memory.

"I've agreed to help spy on Nott," Draco had announced. "Just in case he's involved in these murders. I'm going to have to pretend to go along with him and I - I thought you should know." He gave Harry a pleading look.

"That's convenient," Harry said coldly. "Are you sure it will just be pretend?"

He'd regretted it the minute he said it, but Draco had stormed out of the room before he could take it back.

He hadn't been feeling too well, either. He kept getting weak and nauseous, and his flying was off. His Firebolt wasn't responding to him like it normally did.

There was a crack, and Hermione appeared. She was breathing hard and looked upset. "You okay?" Harry asked.

"I'm fine," Hermione replied, carefully smoothing down her hair. "Ready for some investigating? I thought we should probably check back on the Hill first, in case we missed anything."

Harry agreed, and they Apparated to the top of Dragon Hill. A wave of dizziness swept over him when he arrived, and he stumbled a little. Hermione put out her hand to steady him. "Do you feel that same prickling sensation that you did last time?" she asked.

Harry concentrated for a moment. "No. I don't feel anything."

"The magical residue from the portal spell has probably faded by now," Hermione said, looking disappointed.

The top of the Hill was flat and empty. There was nothing except grass and a few rocks. "I don't think we're going to find anything here," Harry said after a few minutes of staring around.

Hermione made a frustrated noise. "I just can't think of any thing else to do."

Harry nodded glumly. "Well, want to go down into Uffington and have some lunch? At least then the afternoon won't be a total waste."

"Okay," Hermione agreed with a sigh. "Do you mind walking? The weather is so nice today."

They walked slowly, not saying much. Harry was thinking about Draco. Guilt over what he had said and the sense of betrayal that Draco hadn't trusted him were warring together in his mind. He had just made up his mind that he had been perfectly justified in getting angry and didn't need to apologize, when Hermione made a small noise next to him. He stifled a sigh and looked over, expecting her to ask him why he was so quiet. Instead, he was met with the sight of Hermione crying.

"Hermione! What is it? What's wrong?"

"Oh, it's just - " Hermione's lip trembled. "It's Ron."

"Ron? What do you mean? What has he done?" Harry guided Hermione over to a low stone wall and sat down with her.

"It's not only Ron, it's me, too. Oh, it's just so awful, Harry!" Hermione burst into sobs.

Harry put his arm around her shoulders, hugged her to him. "Can you tell me what happened?" he asked softly.

Hermione wiped at her eyes, and Harry handed her his handkerchief. "Thank you, Harry. It's just so embarrassing and painful to talk about it."

"You can tell me, whatever it is."

Hermione was silent for a few moments, then burst out, "It's this fight Ron and I have been having. We've hardly been talking to each other since before Christmas." She stifled a sob. "You know how it is. Like sixth year when we could never face each other, but just ran around making the other one more upset."

Harry winced, remembering the whole "Lav Lav" episode. "And what started this one off?"

Hermione sighed. "Every time we go to the Burrow, Ron wants to talk about our future afterwards. He gets upset by how much I'm working. And then - " Hermione took a deep breath. "He tells me that he wants to have kids."

Harry blinked. Kids? Ron? "I didn't know that was so important to him," Harry admitted.

"Well it is apparently," Hermione said, sniffing.

"And what about you? How do you feel about it?"

Hermione stared at the ground. "I don't know, Harry," she said at last. "I think I'm...scared by the idea. Growing up as an only child - I never had much to do with children. I don't know what kind of mother I would be."

Harry thought about his own limited experience and tried to picture himself raising a kid. "I understand," he said quickly. "Although if you did have a baby, I know you would love it. And that's the most important thing," he added, remembering his own childhood with the Dursleys.

"You're right, you're right. But - I can't help thinking about my career, too. The things that I want to do, all that I still want to learn. And then I feel horribly selfish. I'm just afraid Ron won't want to be with me anymore if I say no."

"Ron wouldn't know what to do with himself if you weren't around, Hermione," Harry said gently. "Have you told him what you just told me?"

"Not really," Hermione admitted. "We both get so mad at each other whenever we try to talk about it. And now he's upset because I met this guy at the library and we've gone out to lunch a few times."

"Well, Ron always has been a little jealous, to put it kindly."

Hermione laughed a little. "True. Geoffrey - that's his name - he's doing research funded by a university in Berlin. It's just so wonderful talking to someone like that - a real scholar. I mean, Ron tries, but..." she shrugged. "Geoffrey and I can discuss Arithmancy and Runes and all those things. That's all there is to it, though, we're just friends!" Hermione looked up at him anxiously, and Harry gave her a nod to show he believed her. "But Ron is just furious about it," Hermione concluded.

"You'll work this out, Hermione," he assured her. "If worse comes to worst, you can always cast Petrificus on Ron and make him listen."

"I might have to do that," Hermione said, managing a small smile.

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

They had lunch at The Fox and Hounds. Uffington was fairly quiet - no summer tourists around and most people at work. They strolled around the town for a bit after their meal. Harry was admiring a large stone church when Hermione suddenly grabbed his arm. "Look, Harry! A bookstore. Let's just stop in for a minute, shall we?"

Harry grinned, but let himself be led over to the shop - "Parrot Books," the sign proclaimed. A bell chimed as they entered. Books were piled everywhere, overflowing from the tall shelves onto the floor. Hermione picked up the one nearest to hand and began reading.

Harry wandered into the shelves and came upon the shopkeeper stacking some new arrivals. "Hello," the man said. "Can I help you find anything?"

"Do you have anything about Dragon Hill and the White Horse?" Harry asked him. "We've just been visiting over there."

The man grinned. "I always keep several books on that subject on hand. Right over here." He led Harry to a section marked "Local Attractions." "I'm Mr. Nyles, by the way. Call me if you need anything."

"Thanks," Harry said, pulling out a visitor's brochure.

Hermione came over, too, and picked up a battered text which looked like it had been languishing in someone's attic.

Harry was reading about how locals had been keeping the White Horse clear from overgrowth for hundreds of years when Hermione gave a gasp and gripped his arm. "Listen to this!"

"What?" Harry asked, prying her fingers off.

Hermione looked around nervously for Mr. Nyles, but he had disappeared into the back. She cleared her throat and began reading in a low voice: "Locals in the vicinity of White Horse Hill claim that one night out of every year the White Horse comes alive. According to legend, if one were to capture the White Horse, the Horse would carry that person to any destination on the planet, or even to other worlds." Hermione looked up. "Other worlds! What if that's Slytherin's plan? To use the White Horse to take him into the afterlife so he can get his magic back."

"I don't know." Harry read the passage again. "Why couldn't he just go through the portal himself?"

"A powerful magical being like the White Horse would protect him from the draining effect of passing through the portal," Hermione answered. "So Slytherin would be able to hold onto his own magic when he came back through."

"Does it tell what night the White Horse comes alive?"

Hermione flipped through the pages. "No. It doesn't say anything about how one would capture the Horse either."

"Interesting old legend, isn't it?" Mr. Nyles said from behind them, and they both jumped.

"Do you know anything more about it?" Harry asked.

"Not much beyond what's written there. Not many people ask about the legends anymore. They're only interested in which Bronze Age society made the Horse and argue over what it's supposed to represent."

"What about capturing the Horse?" Hermione persisted. "Do you know how that's supposed to be done?"

Mr. Nyles considered. "I've not heard that mentioned too much. However," he reached up and pulled down a small, tattered book, "I was flipping through this one day and stumbled across something interesting. It belonged to an old lady who died a few years ago. I think it's some sort of diary, but she was a strange old bird. Keeps including odd phrases in Latin about turning rabbits into earmuffs and such. But one part stuck in my mind." He handed the book to them, pointing out a passage.

The Horse lies on the hillside, waiting for when Spring is half-past and Summer approaches. Then he will rise and gallop across the skies to the six stones under which those who made him lie. The Smith passes his hands over stone and takes out the golden bridle which he made to tame the Horse and keep him until the night passes into a new day.

Underneath this, the old lady had written: For the words that the Smith speaks, follow the line of power from the shrine on the Mount to the Candle.

"Now, I don't understand all of that," Mr. Nyles said, "but the golden bridle seems plain enough. And that 'line of power' might be a reference to the St. Michael's ley line." He pulled out another book. "Tells all about them in here."

Harry was feeling a bit dazed, but Hermione had a familiar gleam in her eye. "We'll take all these," she said, carrying the books over to the register.

Mr. Nyles rung them up, looking pleased to be making such a large sale in the off season. "These ancient legends do take hold of your imagination. It gives a person quite a thrill to think of that White Horse getting up and flying across the sky."

Harry looked at Hermione, and they both shivered.