Harry Potter and the Labyrinth of the Mind

HARRY POTTER AND THE LABYRINTH OF THE MIND

Chapter 11 - Dark Hours

Harry's uneasy peace held nearly a week. It had been a busy one with plenty of homework and revision as the term drew to a close. After a particularly long evening laboring over an essay for Snape, Harry yawned mightily and stretched.

"All right, Harry?" Hermione asked, her look something more than curious. "You've certainly seemed tired today."

"I'm fine," answered Harry, surprised. "It's just all the work they've piled on us, and just before holidays, too." He smiled at Hermione. "I expect I don't have your stamina for this sort of thing."

Hermione made no answer, but her face was troubled. Seeing her expression, Harry remembered Ginny's angry outburst about his fatigue and Hermione's worry. The thought made him uncomfortable, but he said nothing. Instead, he offered up another grin.

"Actually, I'd probably be able to keep awake if this essay were for anyone other than Snape."

"If ever anyone wants to develop a charm for a sweet disposition, that git would be the perfect test subject," observed Ron mildly. "Any spell that could lighten him up would surely be a smashing success."

"Ron, really," Hermione sighed, shaking her head.

"Well, I am knackered," Harry interjected, "so I believe I'll call it a night." Gathering his books and saying good night, he went upstairs. Once in bed, Harry tried to recall if he had felt particularly tired before each of his visions, but before he could put much effort into it, he was sound asleep.

As was often the case, Harry's sleep was troubled by a series of nightmares. Generally, these dreams were of indistinct, disjointed images - distant screams, hazy faces, a pervading sense of anger and fear. This night, however, the dreams were somewhat more defined. There were still distant screams and hazy faces, but added to these were images of gray, square buildings and bleak landscape. More screams, a rush of anger and an incongruous stab of triumph brought Harry bolt upright in bed, his heart pounding and his scar prickling.

Parting the hangings around his four poster and swinging his legs over the side, Harry tried to wake enough to remember what had happened in the dream. He remembered some buildings, but felt pretty sure he'd never been anywhere like that. That sudden sense of triumph was puzzling. He looked around the dorm as if the sleeping forms of his roommates could provide an answer. The sight of the first quarter moon shining through the window made Harry jump. The moon! Those buildings in his dream! He had been seeing the werewolf sanctuary as it was shown in The Daily Prophet! The screams and anger from the dream, along with that odd moment of triumph came together in Harry's mind. Something had happened at the sanctuary and Voldemort was almost certainly behind it.

Realizing the possibilities spurred Harry into action. This was certainly something the Order would want to know about and that meant he needed to reach Dumbledore right away. Hurrying into shoes and his dressing gown, he turned to his trunk. Quietly, he drew out his invisibility cloak. Harry felt certain that this was no time to run into Filch or Snape. He disappeared beneath the silvery fabric and silently left the dorm.

It was no trick getting out of Gryffindor tower, but once out, Harry realized he had neglected to bring the Marauder's Map. There would be no way of knowing if anyone was about until they were upon him. Cautiously, Harry made his way down several staircases. A right at the next corridor, then two more left turns and he'd be at the stone gargoyle. Turning right into a narrow corridor, he stopped short. It was lit by moonlight streaming in a single window, quite at the other end from Harry. Still, the silver light was enough to show a figure standing at the window, looking out as if waiting for something.

From where he was, the only way to the headmaster's office, barring backtracking nearly all the way back to the Fat Lady's portrait, was to go right past the waiting figure. Harry hesitated, but curiosity got the better of him and he inched forward. He hadn't gone far before realizing that it was Annwyl before him. Even as this registered in Harry's mind, he saw her tense and reach to swing open the casement. A moment later, a large eagle owl swooped in, landing on Annwyl's raised arm. She gently removed the parchment from its leg and gave it what looked like a bit of mutton from that evening's dinner. With a muffled hoot of acknowledgement, the owl took wing and melted into the night.

Whatever news the parchment contained, it's only effect of the news on Annwyl was to tighten her jaw and raise one eyebrow. She stood for a moment, looking out at the moonlit grounds. Then, with an impatient growl, she shoved the parchment into the pocket of her robes and headed for a staircase which led toward the dungeons. Harry watched her go, hardly daring to breathe. He was anxious for her to get safely away because in her impatient haste, she had not noticed the parchment miss and fall from her pocket. Harry tiptoed forward, scooping up the crumpled note. He dared not light his wand, but the moonlight was enough to make out the message.

Directions remain unchanged. Proceed according to original plan. Full report

expected by the new year.

The note was unsigned and Harry didn't recognize the handwriting. As much as Harry disliked what he was about to do, there was nothing else for it. He would have to take the note to Dumbledore and suggest his goddaughter was a security risk. Now, with his worry over both his dream and the note spurring him on, he practically ran toward the stone gargoyle.

As he reached the corridor where Dumbledore's office was, he was dealt yet another surprise. Dumbledore was already exiting his office in a tearing hurry, his expression stern. Harry flung off the invisibility cloak and hurried forward to meet the elderly wizard.

"Professor, it's the werewolf sanctuary!" Harry gasped out.

"Yes, I've only just heard," Dumbledore replied, pausing before Harry. "What have you seen?"

Harry explained his dream and the old man nodded.

"Alright, Harry. I must meet with Order operatives." Seeing his worried frown he put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "When I return, I'll bring a note from Remus. I assure you he is alright."

"But, sir," Harry began, drawing Annwyl's parchment from his dressing gown pocket.

"Harry, I promise I'll bring you what news I can, but I must go now. I am needed."

Harry said nothing, but nodded somberly, pulling his invisibility cloak back over his head. He retraced his steps as his headmaster disappeared in the other direction.

He reached the Fat Lady's portrait without incident and slipped quietly into his dorm room. He replaced the invisibility cloak in his trunk and got into bed, drawing the hangings tightly shut. Lighting his wand, he drew out the parchment Annwyl had dropped and examined it closely. There was nothing to be seen aside from the message.

Harry carefully folded the note and tucked it deep under his mattress. Flopping back into his pillow, Harry practiced clearing his mind. Moments later, he was asleep.

***

Harry, Ron and Hermione were at breakfast early the next morning. To Harry's surprise, Dumbledore was not seated at the head table. In whispers, he gave the other two a brief outline of the previous night.

"Let's have a look at that note," urged Ron. "Do you think there's a concealing charm on it? Maybe there is something else there and we just have to break the charm."

"We can't," Hermione answered. "We've got Charms first thing today and there isn't time to get all the way back to your dorm and mess about with that parchment."

"We could skive off Charms for today," Ron wheedled. "And, really, it wouldn't even be skiving off as we'll be working on charm-breaking anyway. C'mon Hermione, think of it as a special project."

Harry tuned them out as they began their daily ritual of bickering through breakfast. His thoughts were on the werewolf sanctuary and Dumbledore's absence. The situation must be grim, indeed, to keep the headmaster so long from the school. Harry turned toward the head table and looked at Professor McGonagall. Her face was calm and stern as ever, but Harry thought he could detect a flicker of worry - fear, even - in her eyes as she looked out over the house tables.

The flutter of wings overhead drew Harry's attention and even caused a temporary halt in Ron and Hermione's warped flirting. They waited tensely, but no owl settled before Harry with a note from Remus. Hermione was so intent on watching for such word, she nearly overlooked the little Scops owl bearing her copy of The Daily Prophet. When Hermione had accepted her paper and given the owl a bit of toast, all three of them leaned in to get a look at the front page. As Harry had feared, the headline was grim.

Security Breached - Dozens Killed - Werewolves At Large

The lead article explained that a group of unknown wizards had broken through Ministry security. While most of the werewolves had escaped with the intruders, fifty-three werewolves, six Ministry security personnel and four aurors had been killed. Although it was not the time of a full moon, many of the victims appeared to have been attacked by werewolves. Although the Ministry had released no official statement, as yet, it was suspected that is was the work of Death Eaters and the werewolves had allied themselves with the Dark Lord.

"Bloody hell," Ron breathed fervently. "That can't be true. They can't have done." He looked over to Harry. "Can they?"

"What if they have? I mean, they ought to be more careful," Harry said in a mockingly virtuous tone. "The Ministry might lock them all up. Oh, wait - never mind." His expression was bitter.

"I'm afraid Harry's right," said Hermione. "They've got nothing to lose and no reason to feel any loyalty to the Ministry or any of the rest of us. We didn't make the laws, but no one is doing anything about them either."

"They must have killed the ones who refused to come to Voldemort," Harry said in a flat voice.

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence Hermione rose, reluctantly gathering her things.

"We'd better get to Charms," she said sadly.

***

Harry spent a fairly pointless day, going automatically from one lesson to the next, his mind as far from the proper pruning of a tentacula or doxy husbandry as it was possible to be. Ron didn't seem to be faring any better and even Hermione's attention drifted. When, at last, they had dropped into large armchairs in the common room, she dumped her book bag to the floor.

"Oh, this is no good!" Hermione tousled her already wild curls in exasperation. "Just sitting here is stupid and, goodness knows, we won't get any studying done. Let's go visit Hagrid until dinnertime."

Over very large mugs of tea, Hagrid was philosophical.

"It won't do no good, 'Arry, frettin' like this." He tugged his wiry beard sagely. "We all knew sumthin' like this could 'appen. Tha' ruddy sanctuary jus' made it a sure thing. It's a blow, o' course, but not unexpected-like. Grea' man, Dumbledore. Knew wha' was comin'. Trus' Dumbledore, 'Arry."

"Yes," Harry said quietly, his voice tight, "Dumbledore is a great man. But he is just a man." Harry's voice grew louder. "One man. How is he supposed to fix all this? How can any single person -" He stopped abruptly. He knew very well how a single person could fix things. He even knew who was destined to do the fixing. The prophecy had made that chillingly clear.

Not for the first time, Harry wanted to blurt out all he knew about the prophecy to his friends. He longed to pour out his tangled thoughts and emotions much the way one lances a festering wound - draining and clearing away the poisonous matter, allowing it to heal at last. He was checked by his dread of the looks of horror, pity - or worse - revulsion he knew he would see on his friends' faces. Once again, Harry grew silent, his nose buried in his tea mug as the others exchanged sad, worried looks he didn't see.

To the trio's relief, Dumbledore had resumed his place at the head table when they came to dinner that evening. His expression was surprisingly congenial and one would never have guessed that he'd spent the last eighteen hours in what must have been very grim Order meetings and planning sessions. Harry sat staring without realizing until the old blue eyes turned and met his. There was no twinkle, but Dumbledore's eyes were bright with something else. As Dumbledore nodded a silent greeting, Harry realized it was a light of determination, of battle.

Toward the end of the meal, as many students were leaving and scattering to their different common rooms, Dumbledore approached the trio and, drawing Harry aside, spoke quietly.

"I have seen our friend, Moony. He is well and promises a visit in the, er, fullness of time. In the meantime, Harry, we'll need to put greater effort into your Occlumency lessons. Come to my office after lessons tomorrow." With an encouraging thump on Harry's shoulder, he left the Hall.

The next afternoon, Harry reached the stone gargoyle just as Professor Snape arrived from the opposite direction. He stopped before Harry, his arms crossed over his chest, an impatient frown darkening his features.

"Potter, these lessons are taxing my time and patience beyond reason. The headmaster may be diverted by your repeated failure to grasp the concepts, but I am not. I do hope, this time, you will put to use whatever brains encased in your thick, over-sized, Gryffindor skull." He turned to the gargoyle. "Spiced Gumdrops."

Harry had not spoken as he followed the older wizard onto the spiral stairs. His jaw was set, his fists clenched and he shook with anger. They were not halfway up the stairs when a crackle of bluish light appeared from thin air and sizzled around Snape's head and shoulders. The man stiffened slightly but did not turn to look back at Harry.

"Potter, did you hear none of my advice to you? You had best gain control over your anger or you may find your 'accidental' magic more harmful than you dreamed."

They were a sullen, silent pair entering the headmaster's office, but if Dumbledore noticed, he made no remark. Instead, he greeted them pleasantly, offering his usual dish of sherbet lemons before clearing the center of the room with a casual flick of his wand.

"Before we begin, Harry," Dumbledore said, his tone becoming quite serious, "I wish to explain why we shall be attempting to accelerate you lessons. I am afraid we have reason to believe that Voldemort has further developed his soul-imposition skills. Certainly, his use of kissed individuals has become increasingly effective." Here, he looked away slightly. "Now, we fear he has begun to experiment with imposing upon victims still in possession of their souls."

"But, what does that do to their souls?" Harry asked. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted the answer, though. To his surprise, it was Snape who answered.

"At first, my guess is that is would be no more damaging than a powerful Imperious curse. However -" his voice trailed off.

"It is likely the cumulative effects would be quite damaging," Dumbledore filled in, sadly. You see, if Voldemort is using a modified form of Legilimency to accomplish this - as seems nearly certain - it is much more powerful than the Imperius. Imperius can be fought by a strong-willed individual. However, an invasion of the mind, such as this, could be repelled only by a skilled Occlumens. Even then, the outcome would be, at best, uncertain."

"Could that be what happened to Percy Weasley?" Harry asked. Dumbledore nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on Harry's face, as if waiting for his response. Harry frowned, thinking hard. "But last year, Professor Snape told me that Legilimency was only effective when the subject was near and that, often, there had to be eye contact."

"That's so, Potter," Snape said quietly.

"Then, that means that Percy had to be close to Voldemort -" Harry's eyes widened. "NO! You can't believe Percy let Voldemort take over his soul!" He turned to Dumbledore in disbelief.

"I am afraid we cannot be certain what to believe," was the surprising reply. "Order operatives have been keeping a friendly eye on young Weasley for some time. Arthur and Molly were worried about what he might do in the face of Fudge's admissions regarding Voldemort. It seems worry was justified. Percy has been forming some unsavory friendships, of late."

"Then, he was there?" Snape's eyebrow lifted.

"Yes," Dumbledore nodded. "The information was correct. Percy was among those leading the attack at the werewolf sanctuary."

"Has anyone told Ron and Ginny?" Harry asked in a small voice.

"Arthur is, no doubt, with them now. He arrived a short time ago so he might break the news in person."

"Headmaster," said Snape, "perhaps we should begin our lesson. Surely, Potter sees why he must become an adequate Occlumens as soon as may be."

And so, they began. With so much to consider, Harry found it harder than ever to clear his mind. Still, the implications of what Professor Dumbledore had told him were enough to cause him to apply himself with more vigor than he had ever yet mustered. After an hour's hard effort, Harry was, at last, able to restrict Snape's access to a single word and even begin to repulse the intrusion. There was a fierce sort of pleasure in Snape's eye when Harry began to resist.

"Alright, Harry," the headmaster interposed. "I believe that is enough for today. We are beginning to see fine progress." His voice sounded tired.

"Yes, sir. Thank you," Harry answered. His hand went to his pocket where he had Annwyl's odd owl post. "May I see you a moment, privately, sir?"

"Then you shall not be needing me," Snape said, moving toward the door. "If you will excuse me, Headmaster. Potter, be sure you continue to practice." With a nod to Dumbledore, he left.

"Yes, Harry?" Dumbledore wearily moved his belongings back with his wand and sat at his desk heavily. "What is on your mind, my boy?"

Harry watched the elderly wizard with concern. The sparkle was entirely absent from the blue eyes and his face was gray and deeply lined.

"Sir, are you alright? You look - Professor!"

Harry leaped forward in panic as the headmaster suddenly pitched forward, unconscious. Gently, Harry eased the old man back into the chair, reclining him slightly. Dumbldore's face was gray and slack. For a moment, blind fear gripped Harry, but shaking himself, he hurried to the fire, snatching the floo powder from the mantle.

"Hospital wing," he gasped into the flames. "Madame Pomfrey? Please, it's an emergency!"

To his infinite relief, the nurse did not even bother answering, but stepped immediately through the fire and into the room. With a horrified gasp, she hurried to Dumbledore's side.

"Mr. Potter, fetch Professor McGonagall at once. Bring her to the hospital wing." She conjured a stretcher and turned back to her patient as Harry raced from the office.

Luck was with him, it seemed, for Professor McGonagall was alone in her office when he arrived, breathless and nearly incoherent.

"Potter, for Merlin's sake! Do get a hold of yourself. I can't make out a word you are saying."

"Professor, Madame Pomfrey wants you to come to the hospital wing right away. Something has happened to Professor Dumbledore. He just collapsed or something."

Without waiting to hear more, she rose from her desk and set off for the hospital wing. Harry hurried along beside her, explaining what had occurred.

They entered the infirmary quietly and Professor McGonagall called softly, "Poppy? I came as soon as I could."

"Oh, Minerva, thank goodness!" Madame Pomfrey leaned around a small door off to one side. "Come in, come in!"

"Potter, thank you for informing me. Now, you'd best get back to your common room. Madame Pomfrey will have things well in hand. Oh, and Potter, do not tell anyone of this just yet." Harry nodded and she turned, satisfied, to follow Madame Pomfrey. "Now, Poppy, what is this all about?"

"Minerva, I've never seen anything like it -"

The door swung shut, cutting off their voices. Harry waited a moment, but there were no other sounds to be heard. He gave up and turned to go.

It was a serious anti-climax to be walking back to Gryffindor tower and a Potions essay. Not only that, but he had no idea what to say to Ron and Hermione. Harry really hoped Mr. Weasley had explained about Percy. That was the last news in the world he wanted to be bringing his best friends.

Upon entering the common room and spying Hermione, Harry could see Mr. Weasley had, indeed, broken the news. She sat, well away from other students, in a chilly window seat. Her eyes were red and her nose looked puffy, as if she'd been crying. Ron was nowhere to be seen. Harry sat down beside her and looked, as she did, out over the frozen grounds.

"Dumbledore told me about Percy. Are you alright?" She nodded, but did not speak. "What about Ron?" Here, she gave a shuddering sigh.

"Ron's very upset, of course. He's holding up rather well, though. Really, he's been very brave about the whole thing. But, Ginny... Oh, Harry, I never knew anyone could cry like that."

"Where are they now?"

"Mr. Weasley took them both into Hogsmeade for dinner," Hermione answered. "They really need that time together, you know? They'll be back later."

So, they sat, their silence quite soothing after the tempestuous afternoon. Dinner, despite the bustle of the Great Hall, was equally quiet for the two friends. When at last, Ron found them in the common room, they found there was still very little to say. Somehow, being together was enough.

***

When Dumbledore didn't appear at breakfast the next morning, Ron was instantly eager.

"Do you suppose there has been news about Percy?" His eyes lit with hope. "Maybe he's with Order operatives."

Harry felt his stomach tighten as he saw his best friends face.

"I'm afraid not, Ron," he said sadly and quietly explained to Ron and Hermione what had happened the night before. Hermione was agast, but since there was nothing else to say or to be done, they finished their meal in silence and left for lessons.

Afternoon found them in a double Potions lesson. Annwyl was taking advantage of the longer schedule to give them the practical portion of their end of term exam.

"Today, you will be brewing a shielding potion. You should have covered these in your essays. This formula, the Armorindi Elixir, is one of the more potent. However, it is quite volatile during the brewing process. Until the shredded mandrake leaves have been added in the final moments, the solution will be highly unstable and should be handled with extreme care. Any excessive vibration of the cauldron could produce a quite dangerous explosion. The instructions are on the board and your ingredients are on the side table. You may begin."

The room was silent except for the soft sounds of flames licking the cauldron bottoms, the tiny popping sounds of bubbling liquids and the sounds of chopping, shredding and grinding ingredients. Annwyl moved slowly among them, watching their progress and monitoring the condition of the solutions. She had just peered into Ron's cauldron, then Harry's, given a satisfied nod and was moving on when a low, slow rumble was heard. Harry had his back to his cauldron as he shredded his mandrake leaves and he did not see his cauldron begin to rock as if by a giant, invisible hand. The contents began to fizz and sparkle.

Ron noticed and, with a hoarse shout, flung himself at Harry, bearing him to the ground in a tangled heap. At nearly the same second, Annwyl had seen as well and she, too, dove in front of them, her wand drawn and an incantation forming on her lips. But, it was too late. With and almighty bang, the cauldron expelled its contents, upended itself and fell to the stone floor, cracking in three great pieces.

The sizzling liquid spattered a few students nearby and Harry felt an excruciating burning on his left hand as a large dollop splashed over it. The greatest portion of the potion fell over Ron as he shielded Harry and Annwyl as she shielded Ron. Both let out a shriek of pain as they were struck.

"Scourgify!" Hermione leaped forward with her wand and with a few others doing the same, the largest part of the potion was cleared away. Even so, Harry could see, as he struggled to his feet, the damage had already been done.

Ron and Annwyl lay on the floor, nearly unconscious, moaning. Nearly all their exposed skin was covered in vicious-looking blisters and Harry could see through a tear in the shoulder of Ron's robes that the skin beneath their sodden clothing was similarly affected.

Hermione dropped to her knees beside Ron murmuring, "Hold on, Ron. Dean's gone for help. Just hold on."

Annwyl stirred slightly, reaching out for Harry's hand. "Potion perfect. Something shook it -" Her voice gave out and she sank into merciful unconsciousness.

Moments later, Madame Pomfrey arrived, several jars of ointment in hand.

"Right, then," the nurse began, "any whose blisters are smaller than a galleon, use this ointment. Anyone else, follow me to the hospital wing." She reached Ron and Annwyl and her eyes widened. "What in the world happened here?" She conjured stretchers and gently levitated her patients on to them.

"Something shook the cauldron," Harry answered quietly.

"That seems an understatement, Mr. Potter," she responded, giving him a shrewd look. "You come along with us. I'll need to see to that hand."

Harry and Hermione waited together in the hospital wing for word of Ron and Annwyl. Other than Harry, no other student needed the nurse's attention so they were alone. Madame Pomfrey had left a mild pain potion for Harry while he waited and after a bit of nagging, Hermione convinced him to drink it. Nearly an hour had passed since then and they were still waiting. At last, Madame Pomfrey emerged from behind the white curtain surrounding Ron and Annwyl, just as Professor McGonagall entered the wing.

"Poppy, how are they?" McGonagall stepped forward, forestalling Harry and Hermione.

"Professor King and Mr. Weasley are sleeping fairly quietly, but I had to give them heavy doses of pain and sleep draughts. The burns from the potion are extensive."

"Please, Madame Pomfrey, they will be alright, won't they?" Hermione asked anxiously.

"Not to worry, Miss Granger. They will recover. However potion burns of this nature and severity heal slowly. They were both moving into shock when I arrived and the body needs time to recover from that."

"So, what do you suggest, Poppy?" asked Professor McGonagall.

"They will have to remain here for a while. I realize the school will be on holiday in a few days, but I do not believe either of them will be fit to leave my care for at least a week. I'm afraid they will both be spending Christmas at Hogwarts."

Although Hermione petitioned strongly to be allowed to stay with Ron, the nurse refused, saying she would be keeping them asleep until sometime the following afternoon. Professor McGonagall left them, saying, "I shall notify the Weasleys. Perhaps they would like to come to the castle for Christmas to be near their son."

"Alright, Mr. Potter," said Madame Pomfrey briskly, "let me see to your hand so I can get back to the other two."

Moments later, Harry's hand was coated with a healing poultice and heavily bandaged. Instructing him to stay put and leave the bandages in place until the smoking stopped, the nurse left Harry and Hermione alone again. Hermione was about to speak when the concerned voice of Madame Pomfrey came from behind the small door Harry had seen the previous day.

"Albus, be reasonable! We haven't even been able to determine what made you collapse!"

The door swung open revealing a smiling Dumbledore.

"There, there, Poppy. Don't fuss. I am as right as rain and I must return to my duties. I assure you I am quite alright." With that, he swept from the room.

"He did look a bit pale," Hermione murmured, frowning deeply. "So, let me get this right. Dumbledore collapses and not even Madame Pomfrey knows why. Some unseen - something - causes a potion explosion which seriously injures a student and a professor. That seems too much to be coincidental, even for Hogwarts."

"Are you saying there is someone, here in the castle, behind these things?" Harry asked, amazed.

'It seems possible to me," Hermione replied. "So, my question is, who and what next?"