Harry Potter and the Vitrum Immortalitatis

Chapter Four

Awkward silence wrapped itself around Harry and his friends on the way back from Diagon Alley and remained unbroken until the three were alone in the library at Number Twelve. As Harry had expected, it was Hermione who first shuffled off the quiet.

"Harry, you can't –"

"Who's the new Minister?" He sliced into her words, not wanting to discuss his decision. His friends would be far safer if he kept them away.

Hermione's lips twisted with hurt confusion. Harry turned his back on her accusing eyes and pretended to peruse the shelves, though in truth he was too anxious to give the titles more than a cursory glance. He knew he had to distance himself, but he had not expected it to be painful.

"Well..." The hesitation in Ron's voice spoke volumes. "There is a process, naturally, but it takes a long time. The last time a Minister died while in office was... er... I think it was in the 1800s."

"1876," Hermione said quietly. "Minister Renforth-Giles. Found dead in a Muggle opium den."

"So what's the process?" Harry said impatiently. The serpent in his head was almost lethargically beginning to uncoil. He rubbed his scar absently. "How long before we know who's in charge?"

He could almost hear them exchange an anxious glance behind him and, with a twinge of guilt, imagined the fear in that glance. Eventually, Hermione explained, her voice weak.

"The Wizengamot will be convening in a few weeks, once the investigation is done, to discuss possible candidates. They're very thorough in the selection process and in election. The decision must be unanimous, so it can take a while."

"How long did it take the last time?" Harry turned back to his friends.

"Er... Three years?" Ron guessed.

Hermione nodded. "Three years, five months and two days."

Harry frowned. Granted, Fudge wasn't much of a leader, but at least there had been a figurehead. To go without one for so long, and in the current atmosphere... perhaps Ron was right about Voldemort being behind the assassination. If only he could think through his building headache, he was certain he'd be able to –

"What're you three doing in here –"

"–when there's a meeting about to start downstairs?"

Fred and George stood just inside the library's doorway, the latter of the two clutching a small paper bag. Their faces bore identical mischievous grins.

Hermione crossed her arms and glared at the twins authoritatively. "For the last time, we aren't *allowed* to the meetings."

"Rules are made to be broken," said Fred. "Which brings us to our newest invention, specially made for the dedicated eavesdropper."

George raised the brown paper bag. "We *were* going to call them Detachable Ears. You know, next step from Extendable Ears."

"But instead we're calling them Insects, after some Muggle device Dad was on about."

George flinched under Harry's impatient glare and cut to the vital information. "Right, well, you swallow one of these pellets and the ear of your choice pops right off."

"To be re-attached to any surface. Say, for example, the underside of the kitchen table."

"And how are we to put them there?" Ron asked doubtfully.

"We would be happy to place them for you," Fred said. He pulled a felt-tip pen from his pocket. "Better mark them before you pop them off. We still aren't sure if we've mixed ours up or not."

"We'll probably never know."

The cold marker tickled Harry's ear as Fred jotted a messy 'HP' on the lobe. Once their ears had been marked, George passed out the tiny purple tablets. Harry's ears felt loose, as though they might slip off of his head.

George rolled the top of the bag down and stuffed into his back pocket. "Now choose one, grip the lobe, and pull."

"Don't do both, though. The sounds get confusing."

Harry did as he was told. A faint 'pop!' later, his right ear lay on his palm. Fred collected the ears and concealed them in his sleeve. Harry winced at the loud rustling of the fabric.

"We'll return them after the meeting."

"Enjoy!"

*****

By the time Fred and George got to the kitchen, the Order meeting had already begun.

"... haven't found them all yet," Dumbledore said.

The Headmaster's kindly voice grated on Harry's nerves. The great respect he'd held for the older wizard had dwindled, to the point that Harry now thought that perhaps Voldemort was right: Dumbledore *was* an old fool. He felt guilty, allowing himself to admit this, but also felt freer for it. Giving up required a level of detachment, and it would be easier to detach himself if he could focus on the negative traits his friends - no, *former* friends - possessed.

"We found the one in Egypt," said the tired voice of Remus Lupin. "At great expense."

"One what?" Hermione whispered. "What are they talking about?"

The boys shrugged in unison.

"There are two at Gringotts," said Moody, "though they have been separated."

"And one at Hogwarts," Dumbledore finished.

"That leaves one unaccounted for," said a silky voice that certainly belonged to Snape.

Ron's brow furrowed. "Could they be talking about spies? Death Eater spies?"

"Wouldn't Professor Snape know something, then?" Hermione asked.

Harry shook his head. "He got kicked out. It's not even safe for –"

There was a loud grating of heavy wood on stone, making all three flinch and gasp.

"...exactly are you insinuating, Lupin?" Snape sounded uncharacteristically frazzled.

There was another scraping sound, smaller than the first.

"I am *insinuating* nothing. I'm coming right out and saying it." The table creaked as someone, probably Lupin, leaned on it. "It's rather convenient that you've managed to remove yourself from the danger, isn't it? No more responsibility. You can while away your time in useless safety, just as you accused Sirius of doing."

"Remus, please –" Mrs. Weasley began. Lupin continued unabated.

"Nevermind that we've lost *our* only link to the inside. If you'd managed to keep up the ruse a little longer, we'd *know* where the others are, instead of floundering about while Voldemort races on ahead of us!"

"Don't presume to judge me, werew –"

"That will be quite enough," Dumbledore said sternly. "All of this arguing gains us nothing."

After an uncomfortable pause, during which there was much squeaking of chairs and shuffling of feet, Molly Weasley spoke up.

"Any word on the investigation, Albus?"

"None. Most explosive potions have been ruled out, but no suspects have been named. Other than myself, of course," the Headmaster said ruefully. "Unless something has changed. Tonks? Kingsley?"

Neither Auror said a word.

"It could be someone's holding up the investigation," said Moody. "You two stay vigilant. Make sure none of the evidence disappears."

"Easier said than done, Mad-Eye," Tonks said. "All of the evidence is tiny. Even the bits of the minister that were found were nearly impossible to identify."

"Can't you just Engorge it?" asked one of the Weasley twins.

Shacklebolt's deep voice answered. "Standard Ministryprocedure. We can't use any form of magic on a crime scene or evidence, because it risks contamination and makes it inadmissible in court."

"Just do what you can," Dumbledore told them. "Now, the last item on the agenda... Remus, would you please tell us all about what happened last night?"

Harry froze. He suddenly wished that Hermione and Ron had not given their ears to Fred.

"It was strange, Albus. We found Harry easily enough. Severus and I went up to his room. It looked as if he'd opened none of the letters he's been sent all summer."

"Cut to the chase, Lupin."

"I'm getting to it, Snape."

"Could you two please stop acting like children?" Mrs. Weasley scolded.

After a brief pause, Remus continued. "Harry was lying on his bed, looking very depressed. I've never seen him like this, Albus."

Snape huffed impatiently, but said nothing.

Lupin's words picked up speed. "He mumbled something about giving up. I think that –"

"What?" Hermione and Ron hissed.

Hermione glared at him. "Harry, if you think you can just –"

He shushed her, pointing at the place where his ear had been. Both his friends glared at him, but turned their attention back to the meeting.

"Can we skip this psychoanalysis and get to the important issue?" Snape said shortly. "Potter channeled the Dark Lord."

Harry frowned. Surely he would have remembered that. He glanced at Ron and Hermione only to find them staring at him with poorly-disguised horror. He shook his head.

"It's not true," he said.

"It's true," Lupin affirmed. "His eyes rolled back and he went sort of limp. He said something to Snape, but I didn't quite catch it."

"It was nothing important," Snape said quickly. "The point is that the boy is no longer safe... if, indeed, he ever was. If you send him back to the school, he'll only be endangering the other students."

"I won't leave him here," Dumbledore said. "If he can learn to protect his mind properly, those around him will be perfectly safe."

"You see how well that worked the last time," Snape said harshly. "Unless you are going to teach him yourself this time, Headmaster?"

"No, Severus, *you* are going to teach him. You have the most experience in blocking Voldemort, as I believe I've mentioned before."

Harry groaned.

"The boy showed no progress –"

Lupin interrupted. "Only because you–"

"Perhaps a different method of teaching would be effective, hm?" Dumbledore asked innocently. "In any case, the matter is closed. Good night, all. I will see most of you back at Hogwarts week after next."

There was quiet shuffling as the Order dispersed, but other than small talk, nothing was said. Harry heard the loud rustling of Fred's sleeve as his ear was removed from under the table.

"Harry," Hermione said cautiously. "Dumbledore's right. You do need to learn Occlumency, but we'll help you this time. Just like with the Triwizard Tournament."

Ron smiled weakly. "You'd better listen to her, mate. She's usually right on these things."

Harry shook his head. "You think this is a game? If we win, we get a big trophy, and if we lose, we don't?"

His scar burned as the snake twisted in his mind.

"That's not what's going on here!" he said loudly, nearly shouting. "If we lose, we die. If we win, we die. The only way to survive is not to play the game at all!"

"We *know* it's not a game," Hermione said quietly. "It's a war. And that means that there is no choice of whether or not to participate."

"People die in wars," Ron added. "It's unavoidable; every good chess player knows that. All we can do is minimize the casualties, and we certainly can't do that if you hide away."

"What do *you* know about it?" Harry asked, suddenly suspicious.

Hermione and Ron exchanged a nervous glance before the former explained.

"W... Well, Dumbledore thought it best to tell the prophecy to select Order members, just to be safe, since the record was destroyed, and... er..."

"You happened to be listening in?" he said acidly. "You shouldn't be doing that, either of you. It doesn't concern you."

"In case you haven't noticed, it does," Ron said hotly. "You're our friend, so it does concern us, and you've no right to treat us this way. You think you're the only target? I think we all managed to paint bull's-eyes on ourselves in the Department of Mysteries. We're already involved, and you shutting us out won't change that."

Harry closed his eyes. Ron was right. Deep down, he knew that, but the strongest part of him was too stubborn to admit it, and his head hurt too much to think about it anymore.

"I know, Ron, I just..." He ran his fingers through his messy hair. "I need some more time. I..."

The door creaked open, admitting Fred to the library. "I've got your ears here. Mum says to come down to dinner."

"So, eavesdropping, is it?"

His face frozen in an almost comical expression of fear, Fred slowly turned his head and looked over his shoulder. "Professor, I... er, that is –"

"Do go on, Mr. Weasley." Snape crossed his arms and raised an amused eyebrow. "How *did* you come about those ears?"

"Well... they *are* mine. Can't have too many ears! You never know when something might happen to one."

Harry rolled his eyes. He walked over to Fred and picked up the ear marked with his own initials. "We were listening in. Happy?"

"Ah, that spares me the unhappy task of informing you that your Occlumency lessons will resume. Meet me in this room promptly at seven th–"

"Severus..."

Snape stiffened. Harry's eyes rolled back so that only the whites showed. The boy stood straight, yet his muscles seemed slack.

"My Lord?"

"Not anymore, it seems," Harry rasped. He turned with a disturbing grace toward Ron and Hermione. "Ah, the Mudblood... and a Weasley. Your brother has been *most* helpful."

"Ron, don't listen." Fred's voice was unusually grave.

"No, you shouldn't," Harry continued. "Lord Voldemort has been called a liar by many. Others know I speak only the truth...Severus?"

Snape's eyes narrowed. "A version of it."

Voldemort laughed through Harry's lips. "The truth is flexible. Do you suppose, Severus, my *beloved* servant, that you evaded me all this time because you are a strong Occlumens, or simply because that is what I wanted you to believe?"

The Potions Master's guarded expression dropped, revealing open shock. He quickly recovered. In one fluid motion, he drew his wand and pointed it at Harry's heart.

"You hate the boy. That much, at least, was true. Kill him. Kill us."

"No!" Hermione lunged forward, pushing Snape's wand-hand aside. "Harry, I know you're still in there. Come back to us! You have to try. Come back!"

There was a deep gurgling in Harry's throat, almost as if he were drowning.

"Move, you stupid girl!" Snape shoved her aside and pressed the tip of his wand to Harry's chest. "Stupefy!"