Harry Potter and the Labyrinth of the Mind

HARRY POTTER AND THE LABYRINTH OF THE MIND

Chapter 9 - Lapses

The full moon was fast approaching and Harry's worry over Remus increased practically exponentially as it drew near. The morning after his talk with Hermione and Ron, Harry borrowed a copy of The Daily Prophet, devouring the details of the new Ministry policy on werewolves. Nothing was the least encouraging. Cornelius Fudge was smugly confident in his actions.

"By building this lovely new community specifically for werewolves, the wizarding world is providing them with comfortable, secure accommodations," Fudge was quoted as saying. "It is just right for their kind, don't you think?"

Looking at the view of the facility featured behind the minister, Harry wondered how anyone could believe that this was a 'community' and a 'sanctuary.' With gray, dismal buildings and bare, rocky landscape, it needed only a fence topped with a coil of muggle barbed wire to complete the picture.

Finally, on the eve of the Ministry's deadline for reporting to the werewolf facility, Harry could stand it no longer. Brushing aside Ron and Hermione's attempts to reassure him, Harry set out after dinner to see Dumbledore. As he rounded the corner into the corridor where the stone gargoyle stood, Harry was relieved to see the headmaster approaching.

"Ah, Harry," greeted Dumbledore, "I've been expecting a visit from you. I imagine you are concerned for Moony just now, are you not?" The old man gave a somber smile. "Come with me, but remember, you must keep this to yourself. Tell no one, not even Mr. Weasley or Miss Granger. Safety lies in secrecy."

Dumbledore led him downstairs, deep into the dungeons of the castle, to a passage Harry had never seen before. Stopping before an enormous carved wooden door, the headmaster raised his wand to a large rune in the center. The rune glowed red and Harry heard the heavy lock open with a thud. Dumbledore turned to Harry.

"The lock is charmed to respond to certain wands, yours among them. Simply touch your wand tip to the rune."

Swinging open the massive door, Harry found a large chamber, one corner of which was a comfortably furnished sitting area. The opposite side had plain but comfortable bedroom furnishings. There were two doors in the wall opposite Harry. One stood ajar and from it Harry could hear the clash of blades. He looked questioningly at Dumbledore who merely nodded and crossed to enter the next room.

Two fencers faced each other in a bout. One was obviously, by her stature and the hair bundled back out of her way, Annwyl. Despite the mask hiding his features, Harry knew her opponent must be Remus. The two fencers were so focused on their bout, they did not hear Harry and Dumbledore arrive. Harry stood looking on in awe at the skill and ferocity they displayed. Though foil fencing generally involves more subtle, graceful motions than most forms of combat, it is no less aggressive - a point made only too clearly as thrusts were parried and counter-attacked at the lightning speed.

Harry remembered what Remus has once told him - that volatile emotions were part and parcel of lycanthropy, that this volatility was more pronounced just before the full moon, that Annwyl had taught him to fence to help him control this volatility. As he watched Remus bouting, Harry thought he had a better understanding of what Remus meant and a better understanding of Remus himself. Certainly, the strength of emotion being channeled into the man's movements was obvious. It was equally clear that the concentration required to keep the aggression contained by the rules of fencing was no small achievement. The ferocity of Remus' movements was made graceful and, somehow, touching, by the tight control visibly exerted over it.

They stood in the doorway some time before, in a particularly heated exchange of attacks, Remus managed to land a touch squarely in Annwyl's midriff. It was so forceful a blow, the breath was knocked out of her for a moment. When she had regained her breath, she straightened up and, pulling off her mask, smiled at Remus.

"Now, why didn't you make that move sooner? Or do you enjoy pushing us both to the brink of exhaustion?"

"From the looks of him," said Dumbledore, stepping forward, "I'd say he does. Remus that was an impressive display. No one bests my Annie out of luck."

"Of course not," Annwyl laughed. "And Remus, I threw this bout so you'd have some time with Harry. At least, that's my official version of events." She grinned broadly as she packed away her foil.

Remus assumed a comical look of injured dignity and transfigured his attire to normal.

"Threw the bout, did you? Well, come round after the full moon and we'll go another. I'll have you then, as well, Wyl. See if I don't." He turned to Harry and Dumbledore with a smile. "Headmaster, I appreciate your hospitality, but I hope no one," he looked pointedly at Harry, "will get into any trouble over me."

"Nonsense, Remus. Not another word. We've been through this already. The Order must look after its own. The only way to bring an end to this is to capture an attacker alive. We need you safe, my boy."

Dumbledore placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, propelling him forward.

"I didn't come down to argue with you Remus. I just wanted to see that you were comfortable. Besides, Harry has been concerned, so I brought him along." He nodded amiably and turned to go. "I shall check in again, soon. Annie, my dear, I am off to the kitchens, questing after mulled pumpkin cider. Will you join me?"

Remus watched them go with a thoughtful look, then turned to Harry.

"Harry, I'm glad to see you, but you needn't worry about me. It can't be long before we catch one of Voldemort's soul-imposed attackers. That will settle all this with Fudge. Besides, trust Dumbledore to look after things. It'll be alright."

Harry frowned at Remus' last remarks and stared at the toes of his trainers. It couldn't be a good sign that Remus was beginning to sound like Ron. Feeling Remus' gaze fixed on him, Harry reluctantly looked up again. He really didn't want Remus to pretend to take things so lightly. Harry knew Remus had to be as upset and worried as anyone in Britain at this moment.

"What else do you want me to say, Harry?" asked Remus, as if Harry had spoken his thoughts aloud. "Yes, it's bad, but if I don't hold on to the belief that I am safe here and the Order will make this right, I'll not be able to function. If I panic now, I'll be worse than useless."

Harry couldn't answer, his mouth hanging open in surprise. Remus had never, in Harry's hearing, admitted to any fear for himself. He knew he ought to feel some compassion for this man who had been his father's friend as well as his own, but he did not. Instead, Harry felt a strange anger well up inside him, unbidden. It was an echo, perhaps, of the anger he had felt in Dumbledore's office that morning after Sirius' death. It was anger that Remus should show weakness and fear now, when Harry wanted to berate him for his usual calm.

"I'm glad you came here," Harry said stiffly. "I guess I shouldn't have worried. Ron and Hermione said Dumbledore would take care of things."

Remus narrowed his eyes at Harry's tone but did not comment. Instead, he clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder, steering him toward the door.

"Well, then, you should have listened to them. Things are fine. I'm fine. Look, I want to hear all about Ron and Hermione. Wyl wouldn't say much. Just grinned and told me to ask you. It's getting late now, though, and, frankly, I could use my beauty sleep before the full moon. Come see me after and tell me everything, okay?"

Harry nodded and mustered a smile as he bade Remus goodnight.

The full moon came and went without incident. Remus remained safely tucked away in the dungeon chambers and Harry relaxed slightly. True, Remus was still considered a fugitive. In fact, his name and picture had appeared in a special edition of The Daily Prophet, along with the handful of other werewolves who had 'refused the Ministry's hospitality' and had not moved into the werewolf sanctuary. Although Harry would have thought the Ministry would come to Hogwarts right away, looking for Remus, no one came. Apparently, Fudge was still anxious to regain some measure of Dumbledore's favor and so, left the school undisturbed.

The first Hogsmeade weekend arrived the day after the full moon. Harry considered skipping the trip into town in favor of a visit to Remus but that would have meant some sort of excuse to Ron and Hermione. Harry had obeyed the headmaster's wishes and had said nothing about Remus' presence in the castle, so rather than lie to his friends, Harry decided to visit after going into Hogsmeade. He was fairly certain he'd be able to get away for a bit, then, and he could bring back some samples of Honeydukes' finest at the same time.

The walk into town was a fine time for Harry. Ron and Hermione still bickered on a regular basis, but never got so angry as to really call it a row. To be sure, there were times Harry felt rather in the way, but mostly, he was just too happy to have everyone on speaking terms again to let himself think about it much.

They were, again, discussing who or what had awakened Harry in the night several weeks before.

"Harry, are you certain you weren't just dreaming?" Ron asked. "I know you said the carafe had been shifted, but you could've done that in your sleep. You know, you thrash about a bit, bump your Charms text and nearly push the carafe off. Knocking into that bloody great book could easily have brought you round."

"Well," Harry considered," I suppose I might have done. Still, I don't think that was what woke me." He frowned in thought.

"Dumbledore said they found nothing out of the ordinary about that carafe," Hermione mused absently, twirling the stem of a russet leaf in her fingers. "What if the carafe had nothing to do with it? What if they merely bumped into Harry's bedside table by mistake? If they weren't there to do something to Harry's water, then what were they doing?"

Before either of the boys could offer her an answer, their talk was brought to an abrupt halt by the arrival of Neville Longbottom.

"Hullo," he said, puffing slightly. "I'm glad I caught you up. I heard Zonko's is going to be an official retailer for Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes and figured you lot would be on your way to check it out. Mind if I join you?"

So, naturally, Zonko's was their first stop once they reached Hogsmeade. Harry was quite glad to get into the shop, now crowded with Hogwarts students, all stocking up on dungbombs, wet-start fireworks, and, especially, the latest Wheezes from Fred and George. This was his first time in Hogsmeade since his first vision of an attack. It gave his stomach a queer sort of leaden sensation walking into the busy town square, and memories of what he had seen flooded his mind. The others did not seem struck by any such thoughts and Harry was only too glad to lose himself in their enthusiasm over canary creams, Whizbangs, and an array of Formation Fairies.

From Zonko's, they made directly for Honeydukes' where they happily laid in a supply of sweets to last until their next visit. Harry opted for a variety box of sweets for Remus, not knowing what might be a favorite. Ron, his ears tinged the customary red, presented Hermione with a delicate-looking spun sugar flower, its sugar crystals sparkling like so many dewdrops. She rewarded him with a smile which caused Ron's face to match his ears.

Now laden with jokes and sweets, the four went out into the bright autumn sunshine. There was a small public area with a few benches place under the surrounding trees. Harry realized, with a lurch, that this was the very spot of the attack he had seen. The contrast between the attack and the present should have been reassuring to Harry. It was a lovely late morning full of sunshine, brilliant autumn leaves and the bustling sounds of the street filled with Hogwarts students. It was a cheerful, pleasant, normal scene. Yet, it was the normality that disturbed Harry most of all. It had been a normal evening in his vision before Voldemort had set those sham werewolves loose.

Harry shook himself and tried to focus on the present. Hermione was talking of needing a new bottle of ink, Ron was going on about butterbeer and Neville was pointing at a bench on the far side of the open area.

"Look, over there," Neville said with a rush of enthusiasm that surprised Harry. "Isn't that Luna, there? C'mon, let's go say hello."

He struck off across the grass with the others following willingly behind. Luna was sitting on a bench reading, as always, the current copy of The Quibbler, her wand in its usual place, tucked behind one ear. Neville stood before her and Hermione sat down on the bench beside her.

"Hello, Luna," she said brightly. "Anything, er, interesting in the news today?"

Luna looked up with a faraway sort of smile.

"Oh, it's all the usual. Fudge has enlarged his army of heliopaths, but, of course, that is to be expected with things the way they are."

Ron rolled his eyes as he looked away quickly and Hermione bit her lip. Neville, however, sat down between the girls, his eyes round with credulity.

"How can Fudge control heliopaths?" he asked Luna. "That sounds really dangerous. And where is he getting them, anyway?"

"What say we discuss this over butterbeers?" Ron broke in before Luna could answer.

Luna looked up at Ron interestedly, then at Hermione.

"I should think, Ronald, that you and Hermione would want some time alone today. Isn't this your first actual date?"

Harry realized with a start that Luna was right. One look at the pair's rosy countenances showed Harry that they hadn't needed Luna's reminder. He felt a guilty pang for not having thought of that himself. I should have sent them along into Hogsmeade on their own instead of making them do the polite for a tagalong all morning.

"Absolutely," Harry spoke up cheerfully. "You two go on and we'll catch you up back at the castle for dinner."

"Well," Hermione hesitated, "if you're sure you all don't mind, thank you." Ron added his thanks with a particularly goofy grin over his shoulder as they walked off.

Harry watched them go, then turned back to Neville and Luna. Luna was deep in a description of how Cornelius Fudge must be breeding additional heliopaths for his army. Neville was listening with a rapt expression. Harry listened for awhile, but as the conversation turned to nargles and Crumple-horned Snorkacks, his attention began to wander. Thinking he may as well look around a bit more, he excused himself.

He roamed about the square, exchanging greetings with some of the other students. The greetings were friendly, but Harry could feel more than a few stares. With the Ministry finally admitting that Harry had been telling the truth and the publicity which had, to Harry's dismay, followed the attack on the train, people were ogling him more than ever before. Even older students, who should have been over the novelty, were watching and whispering as he passed. Harry supposed he should be grateful that the interest was largely friendly. Hadn't he had enough sneering last year? Still, what he really wanted was to go about without anyone giving a flying knarl's arse about what he was up to.

Pausing under a tree in a quiet area, Harry watched his fellow students. Everyone seemed smiling and happy as they enjoyed their freedom. Harry felt a rush of envy. No one else seemed burdened with memories of the Department of Mysteries, of the vicious attack on the train, of seeing a dementor kiss an innocent victim, of Voldemort...

Hearing a familiar laugh and voice, Harry turned, smiling, to greet Ginny Weasley. She approached with a wave and a grin, towing a smiling Dean Thomas along in her wake.

"Harry, why aren't you with Ron and Hermione? They're really just too funny!" She made some exaggerated kissing sounds. "Gah!"

"Oh, well, you know," Harry grinned, a little embarrassed, "this would be their first chance for a date and all. I'm sure they'd like some time to themselves."

"Right you are, lad," said Dean with feeling. "It isn't easy finding some quality time, you know?" With that, Dean led away a still-giggling Ginny. Harry returned her cheerful wave as they disappeared into a shop down the street.

Somehow, Ginny's happy chatter had made Harry feel even more miserable. He was sulking and he knew it, but he didn't care. He felt as if one more smiling, happy conversation would drive him barking. Tiredly, he turned away from the town and headed for the Shrieking Shack on the outskirts. He would have liked to have gone to Sirius' cave, but even Harry felt that would be foolhardy, especially all alone. So, he settled for a perch on the rail fence surrounding the old shack. As he expected, he had no company which gave him plenty of opportunity to think. First, he tried reasoning with himself about Ron and Hermione.

It isn't as though it was a surprise, he thought. Ron had been mooning about since fourth year and Hermione, well, Hermione isn't really the mooning type, but it wasn't hard to see that she really cares for Ron. And, they were really understanding last year when Cho and I...

A sick feeling swept over Harry, overpowering that thought. In his mind's eye, he was seeing Cho again for the first time, seeing her smile at him on the quidditch pitch, seeing her dance at the Yule Ball, conjuring a swan patronus, looking up at him underneath the mistletoe...

Now, Harry was sick. He jumped off the fence, retching and clutching at a post for support. He clung there for a bit, waiting for the nausea to subside. When it felt as though his stomach had settled back where it belonged, he headed straight for the castle, deliberately thinking as little as possible.

By the time Harry made it back to the school, he was somewhat more in control, but still doing his level best to keep his mind a blank. If Snape could have seen the effort Harry was putting into that, even he wouldn't have been able to accuse Harry of slacking off on practice for Occlumency lessons.

Harry had carried along his invisibility cloak for his visit to Remus in the dungeons, so, finding a secluded corner, he pulled it from his bag and draped it over himself. Thus hidden, he made his way, quietly, down, down deep into the dungeon passageways. At last, he reached the heavy, rune-marked door. Knocking lightly first, Harry touched his wand tip to the rune and swung the door open. Remus stood before the door smiling as Harry pulled the cloak from his head.

"Harry! Come in, come in! I didn't expect to see you so soon. Have you had tea?"

As Harry came into the room, he looked toward the sitting area where a merry fire crackled in the fireplace. A girl sat curled up in a large, tweed armchair near the hearth.

"Oh, I'm sorry," said Harry, confused, "I didn't expect... er, I didn't mean to interrupt."

The girl laughed and motioned him to sit.

"Harry, best have your eyes tested. You must need new glasses." The girl was Annwyl in faded muggle jeans and an oversize woolen jumper. In those clothes, with her hair tied back in a messy sort of twist, she looked quite a lot younger. Feeling a bit wrong-footed, Harry took a seat on a low ottoman beside her chair. Remus, chuckling softly, took a seat on Harry's other side.

"Wyl, I told you those muggle clothes make you look like a kid." He wagged a finger at her. "Not very dignified, Professor."

Annwyl pulled a face and looked back to Harry.

"Don't pay him any mind. Tell us about your day. Where did you go? What sort of rubbish is Zonko's peddling for the Weasley twins?"

Although Harry had spent a good deal of time with Annwyl over the summer, he wasn't sure what to make of her sudden affability. She had never been unpleasant to him, but this was far beyond her general polite neutrality. Remus, too, was a puzzle. Harry had not forgotten talking with him that night in the garden at headquarters.

"Once, I could trust Annwyl King with my life. Now... just be on your guard, Harry..."

Remus certainly behaved now as if he trusted her completely. What had changed? He wanted to ask, but as Annwyl was right there, it was hardly the time. It would have to wait for a time when Harry could see Remus alone.

So, Harry accepted the tea and biscuits Remus offered and recounted his trip into Hogsmeade. He left out how long he'd sat in front of the Shrieking Shack and his reason for coming back early. Still, when he mentioned leaving Neville and Luna after Ron and Hermione's departure, Remus and Annwyl gave each other a significant look. Harry noticed and was somewhat nettled.

"What?" he demanded testily. "I didn't go roaming around in the forest alone or something. I don't need to go about with a nursemaid."

"Of course not," Remus answered in an appeasing tone. "It just sounded a bit dull and lonely once you separated from your friends." He looked searchingly at Harry. "I thought that might be why you came back so early."

Harry now found the worsted rug before the fire of prime interest and didn't answer.

"Well, and I thought," said Annwyl cautiously, "that it sounded, perhaps, a bit lonely even with your friends."

Harry's shoulders sagged in defeat. He didn't look up, but nodded slightly.

"Oh..." Remus' eyes widened in understanding. "You know, Harry, when James and Lily first got together, it seemed to the rest of us that they had dropped off the planet altogether. They were so caught up in being with each other, they rather forgot about being with anyone else." Remus smiled, remembering. "In fact, as I recall, Sirius got fairly snaky about it. Played some awful pranks on James to get his attention. Even transfigured his hair one day into an actual dust mop. That got James' attention, I'll tell you."

Harry couldn't help grinning at that.

"Well, that couldn't have been much of a trick. His hair would have been nearly that already," Harry responded, ineffectually flattening his own tousled fringe with his hand.

"Too right," chuckled Remus. "In the end, though, Sirius had no influence on them whatever. They reappeared in their own good time. It was as if once they'd become comfortable together, they were again able to be comfortable with us."

"A process which I expect would have gone on more smoothly without Sirius' nonsense," Annwyl put in, smiling.

"Probably," agreed Remus. "Does this help, Harry?"

"Yeah," sighed Harry, "I guess it does. You're saying if I just leave them alone, Ron and Hermione will sort themselves out and we'll be able to carry on from there, is that it?" Remus nodded and Harry smiled slightly. "Well, that sounds better than turning Ron's head into a mop, anyway."

It was nearing dinnertime, so Harry rose to take his leave, thinking he might catch Ron and Hermione as they came back from Hogsmeade. He hadn't let them go with very friendly feelings and felt anxious to show them he was, indeed, happy for them. As he moved out into the center of the room, he felt an odd shiver pass through him. The room seemed to dissolve around him, leaving him standing... well, nowhere. The word 'quill' drifted through his otherwise blank consciousness along with all the related images as they appeared during his Occlumency lesson. A sudden cold wave swept over Harry and he shuddered, coming to himself again. With the return to his senses came a profound sense of fatigue, such that his knees gave way and he dropped to the floor.

Harry had no way of knowing how long the strange feeling had lasted, but he figured it couldn't have been long, as Remus and Annwyl were only just reaching his side, shocked looks on their faces.

"What happened?" Harry asked, reaching for Remus to pull himself up.

"Steady, now," Remus cautioned, hauling Harry to his feet and guiding him back to a chair. "I don't know what happened, Harry. One minute you were fine and the next you came over sort of queer and dropped like a stone. What did you feel? Is it your scar?"

"No," Harry ran his hand over his forehead tiredly, "my scar feels fine. Everything just, sort of, went away all of a sudden," he said and told about the images of quills from his Occlumency lesson.

Annwyl had said nothing, but sat frowning at the fire. Upon hearing that the images matched those from his lesson with Snape, her frown deepened and she looked sharply, first at Harry, then Remus. Still, she didn't speak.

"What's on your mind, Wyl?" Remus asked, noticing her look.

"I'm not sure I like the idea of Harry having flashbacks to Snape's lesson that make him collapse. I'm going to get Albus. Wait for me."

Harry watched listlessly as the heavy door swung shut behind her. A voice in his fogged brain nagged at him that he ought to talk to Remus about Annwyl. Harry shifted a little fretfully. He felt too spent to deal with those questions just now, but the voice kept prodding. There might not be another such opportunity for a long while. Harry did his best to marshal his thoughts and dove in.

"Remus, just before term started, you told me to be on guard with Annwyl. What changed?"

Remus looked sober and turned away from Harry. He didn't answer and Harry began to worry that he had offended him. Then, Remus began to speak softly.

"Annwyl is as potentially dangerous as she was when she turned up on your front step on Privet Drive. That hasn't changed. What I said, then, about her information is still true. She has been able to tell us things about Voldemort and his supporters that even Snape can't equal," Remus sighed, "and, as I said before, it often seems her information is too reliable for comfort. I've been trying to trace her movements over the last two years, but I've learned nothing."

"But," Harry said, sounding apologetic, "you've been spending loads of time together lately and... well, you seem to be getting on pretty well. Are you trying to tell me you still don't trust her?"

"Harry, this is hard to explain," Remus answered, turning to face him. "Before Wyl's disappearance fifteen years ago... we were professionals, Harry. Colleagues in very dangerous work. I knew how foolish, risky and hopeless it was, but I couldn't help that. I never told her anything, of course, but I..." He ran a hand through his hair distractedly.

"Now, seeing her again, talking to someone with whom I have common experience... Harry, I know you are mourning for Sirius. But, I am too. Wyl is like getting a piece of my old life back. I'm afraid, sometimes, it is much too easy to forget to be cautious. It's no excuse, of course." Remus smiled grimly. "Never fear, Harry. I'll be more careful, I promise."

Harry was spared answering by the return of Annwyl, herself. Albus Dumbledore was close on her heels.

"Well, Harry," Dumbledore said briskly, "let's have a look at you." The old man knelt beside Harry's seat. "I'd also like you to tell me just what happened."

When Harry had finished his story and the headmaster had looked him over, Harry risked a question of his own.

"Sir, what happened? Does learning Occlumency have any side effects or anything?"

"No, no," Dumbledore replied getting to his feet. "I don't believe your Occlumency lessons have anything to do with whatever occurred. Just what did happen, I'm afraid I can't say. How do you feel now? Still fatigued?"

"Harry, you fell pretty hard," Remus interjected. "Maybe you'd better let Madame Pomfrey have a go at you."

"I don't think that would be wise," Annwyl said quietly. The friendly openness of earlier in the afternoon was gone and her usual cool detachment seemed, once again, firmly in place. "I don't think what happened here should leave this room for a number of reasons, not the least of which is how it would risk letting it be known that you are here, Remus." She said nothing of the other reasons and Harry couldn't quite bring himself to ask.

"Remus, I must take Annie's part in this. Harry seems only in want of a bit of rest. I can't allow your safety to be risked. Besides which, until I feel we have some reasonable hypothesis to explain Harry's, er, event, I don't believe I'm comfortable having anyone else know of it." Here, Dumbledore turned a keen eye on Harry. "Understand, Harry?"

Harry nodded and rose unsteadily to his feet. He mustered a smile for Remus.

"I'm fine, really, just feeling well knackered. If I go straight back to Gryffindor tower, I should be able to catch a quick nap before dinner and no one will notice the difference."

Scooping up his bag and adjusting the invisibility cloak over himself, Harry made his way up and out of the dungeons. Once in the entry of the castle, he ducked into a niche behind a statue of a rather grim old witch, removed his cloak and stuffed it in his bag. That done, he climbed up to the tower along with other returning students. As he had predicted to Remus, no one paid much attention to him when he headed straight for his dorm and a nap.

* * *

Halloween was only a few days away now and the whole school was talking about the coming feast. Ginny, thanks to her success in decorating the Gryffindor common room, had been nominated along with a handful of other fifth years, to help the professors decorate the Great Hall. She was particularly enthusiastic, to Ron and Harry's amusement and Hermione's mild disgust, over being excused from classes for that day. Hagrid was raising pumpkins as he did each year, and Harry and the others paused to admire their size as they passed on the way to Care of Magical Creatures.

Despite the worry over attacks, Remus, and that strange lapse in the dungeons, Harry had to admit things really didn't seem so bad. Transfiguration was coming along nicely for him and he was now able to transfigure several articles of his own clothing at once. It didn't actually matter much here at Hogwarts, but, obviously, it would have its uses in an Auror's work as part of rudimentary undercover work.

Charms was particularly gratifying, as they were actually studying jinxes and counter-curses beyond any that Harry had ever come across in the Triwizard tournament or the D. A. He was especially fond of the Amputare jinx which, when coupled with the name of the appendage of the caster's choice, would make the victim believe his or her appendage had been removed. It did no actual harm, of course, but was very effective in immobilizing an opponent's wand arm.

Even Potions was going well. To be sure, the students found Professor King rather exacting and something less than approachable, but after years with Snape, no one really expected a friendly chat in Potions. Annwyl was coolly competent and more than capable of conveying the sense of the lesson to her classes. All in all, for the Gryffindor students in particular, Potions lessons had never been so pleasant. Only Draco Malfoy seemed truly dissatisfied and as he was heavily outnumbered, he kept largely to himself during lessons. Of course, he could be heard criticizing nearly everywhere else. He was careful, however, to steer clear of Professor King and there had been no trouble.

Really, now that Hagrid had shifted lessons from graphorns to much more controllable pogrebins, Harry's only complaint about lessons was having Snape for Defense Against the Dark Arts. The former Potions Master was every bit as unpleasant teaching this subject as he had ever been in Potions. After one particularly testy session, Ron stalked down the corridor toward his next class, muttering.

"Blimey, Harry! You'd think that snarky bugger would be at least a bit more tolerable now that he finally had the chance to teach Defense. But you know, I think he may actually be worse."

Harry was inclined to agree. Snape continued his favorite lessons pastime of badgering the Gryffindors, Harry in particular. One might have thought that it would be better, since Defense was far and away Harry's strongest subject. Instead, Snape seemed to take Harry's skill as a personal insult and never missed an opportunity to quiz him before the rest of the class or use him as a guinea pig to demonstrate a new attack and defense sequence. As often as not, Harry left Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons with a fresh crop of aching muscles and bruises.

Dueling Club was going along at full speed these days, and, while Snape still skulked about in the background like a greasy, black vulture, Annwyl patiently taught them, first with fencing techniques and then, applying those concepts to magical dueling. They had come along so well, she was now introducing techniques for manipulating one's opponents into, essentially, throwing themselves onto one's weapon point, or into the path of a spell.

"Tonight, ladies and gentlemen," Annwyl had said, "we will be learning the delicate strategy of the feint."

Next to Harry, Seamus promptly staged an exaggerated swoon, falling back into the arms of a snickering Dean Thomas. A ripple of light laughter moved through the room but died sharply when Annwyl turned her chill gaze on the disruptor.

"As you seem to have an excess of enthusiasm tonight, Mr. Finnigan, you may come forward and help me demonstrate the correct technique."

All the rest of that evening, they practiced drawing out their opponents with the sham attack that was a successful feint.

Remus left the castle the day before Halloween with promises to Harry that he would stay in touch as much as his work for the Order would allow. In a note, delivered to Harry by school owl the morning of his departure, Remus wrote,

Remember, Harry. The sooner we can catch a soul-imposed in the act, the sooner the Ministry can be forced to close that werewolf camp. Time is against us, as I'm sure you've guessed. Every day, I expect a Banner headline across The Prophet warning us that the werewolves have gone over to Voldemort. Goodness knows, the Ministry is pushing them that way even now. But, Harry, try not to worry. I promise I'll be careful, but I have to go do what I can to help restore even limited rights to myself and others like me. I'll see you again at the next full moon.

Halloween was a lovely day of soft, golden, autumn sunshine and clear, crisp air. For the students and faculty, such a day was near torture. Lessons carried on, despite the holiday, but it cannot be truthfully said that much learning took place. Everyone was thoroughly distracted by the weather and the anticipation of the feast that evening. It was a genuine relief all around when lessons were, at last, dismissed. Most made use of their time before the feast by heading directly outdoors to enjoy what remained of the day, Ron, Hermione and Harry among them.

Harry sat on a large tree stump, gazing out at the craggy hilltops which surrounded the school. Ron and Hermione were quite close by, but rather too caught up in one another for much conversation with anyone else. Harry sighed and, remembering Remus' advice, simply sat, allowing their conversation to wash over him uninterrupted.

So relaxed was he, that it hardly registered with Harry when the strange shiver ran through him and his surroundings slipped away. His mind was filled, then, with alternating images, first of Snape, then of Annwyl King. There was no pattern or connection between the images, but the faces were clearly recognizable. Then, the wave of cold brought Harry, shuddering, to his senses. This time, since he was already seated, he was spared the collapse, but the fatigue was no less present.

"Harry! What in the world..." Hermione saw him shudder and slump forward slightly, his face ashen. She was at his side in a flash, Ron leaping up in surprise at her outburst.

"I'm... I'm okay, Hermione," slurred Harry, forcing himself upright. "Don't fuss. Ron, help me get to Dumbledore."

With Ron and Hermione supporting him on either side, they made their way to the stone gargoyle guarding the headmaster's office.

"Don't suppose you prefects know the password, do you?" Harry murmured tiredly.

They shook their heads, looking worried.

"Well, start naming sweets," suggested Harry. "We're bound to hit on it eventually."

A dozen possibilities later, the gargoyle remained unmoved. Hermione stamped her foot in frustration.

"Oh, this is silly! We can't stand here all day listing Honeydukes' inventory. Isn't there any way to just knock?"

Harry blinked at her stupidly. It had never occurred to him before to simply knock. Propping Harry against a nearby pillar, Ron and Hermione searched the gargoyle, its niche, and the stone arch surrounding it for some sort of knocker or bell.

"Ah, I don't believe it," muttered Ron, at last. "That can't be it..." He fiddled with the gargoyle's hand and a gong sounded somewhere behind the wall. A moment later, the gargoyle came to life, moving aside to expose the staircase spiraling upward.

Again, leaning on the other two for support, Harry turned to Ron.

"What made that gong sound?"

Ron pulled a face and helped Harry onto the stairs.

"You've got to pull its finger..."

Reaching the top of the stairs, Hermione knocked on the door anxiously. It swung inward as Dumbledore's voice called out to them.

"Miss Granger, what a pleasant surprise. Do come in." Dumbledore advanced on them, a crystal dish of sherbet lemons in one hand. Seeing Harry leaning heavily on Ron, the man's face changed instantly. "Get him to the couch, Mr. Weasley. Harry has it happened again?"

Harry nodded and flopped down onto the couch, Ron and Hermione hovering nervously to one side.

"Right, well, best have some tea, then," said Dumbledore briskly. "Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, please be seated." With his wand he floated two armchairs near the couch and conjured a silver tea service. "Miss Granger, will you pour?" Another flick of his wand produced a separate mug of something steamy and fragrant. This, he handed to Harry. "Drink this, Harry. Not as potent as Pepper-up, but much better tasting."

Harry sipped at his drink cautiously. It did seem to give him back some strength and Dumbledore was right about the flavor. It tasted wonderfully. After a few more sips, Harry explained the latest lapse. Ron and Hermione, not having known about the first incident, were visibly alarmed. Dumbledore merely looked thoughtful.

"I am still at a loss as to what this means," he said slowly. "Harry, I am asking again that you keep this to yourself. I am certain Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley understand the gravity of the situation and their discretion may be relied upon. Am I right? Excellent. Now, Harry, I think it would be best for you to stay here for the rest of the afternoon and rest. You will have no questions to answer here."

Harry nodded, his eyes already drooping shut. He was dimly aware of someone shifting him so he was able to lie down. He felt a soft blanket cover him and knew no more.

* * *

Sitting with the other Gryffindors at the Halloween feast several hours later, Harry found it difficult to worry about the lapse or his thoughts during that time. The Great Hall was a dazzling sight, from Hagrid's enormous jack-o-lanterns to the hundreds of laughing lanterns and clouds of orange and purple fairy lights charmed into place by Ginny and the other students. Not even Malfoy's sarcasm could dampen the spirits at the Gryffindor table. Though, of course, Malfoy had made the effort. He had been right by the door as Harry, Ron and Hermione entered the Hall.

"Well Potty, Weasel, er, and what do you want to call yourself, again" he sneered at Hermione. Ron flushed red with anger, but Harry had a grip on one arm and Hermione, the other. "Aww... what's the matter, Potter? You're looking a bit peaky. These epic lovers turning your stomach, as well?"

Harry let go of Ron's arm and the two of them were about to give Malfoy some interesting new features when Madame Hooch came through the door behind them.

"Really, now. It's bad enough having you lot at one another's throat on the quidditch pitch, but brawling at dinner is too much. Five points from both your houses. Now, do at least pretend you are able to control yourselves."

Without further delay, Hermione had hustled them over to the table where they now sat, enjoying the array of favorite dishes.

Seamus was only halfway through telling the latest piece of juicy gossip he'd picked up when Harry suddenly rose to his feet, his face and body rigid with shock.

Harry found himself in a corridor which, though familiar, he couldn't quite place. As he walked along toward some double doors ahead of him, he heard sounds of chaos around him. Crashes and bangs when he hoped was only furniture being tossed about blended with screams of unseen people.

Passing through the double doors, Harry saw the source of much of the noise. A battle raged before him, the figures lit by the eerie glow of whizzing curses. Some of the figures were attacking with their hands and, somehow, Harry knew they were soul-imposed. One figure drew Harry's attention. Unlike the others, she was dressed in white hospital pajamas, her black hair tangling around her shoulders as she struck out at anyone close enough to reach. With a dull horror, Harry realized, even before she turned in his direction, it was Cho Chang. Harry felt himself turn and walk away from the soul imposed attackers. He saw himself raise a wand and heard a familiar voice come from his mouth, A woman in front of him fell, shrieking, to the ground, writhing in pain from a curse Harry didn't recognize, but realized he had cast. Five more people fell before him, each screaming in agony from the hideous curses issuing from Harry's mouth.

Then, the voice coming from Harry's mouth connected with memories in his mind. With a cry that nearly split his own head along his scar, Harry spun to look at his reflection in a glass door beside him. The face looking back at him was Percy Weasley.