A Reflection of Himself

Harry had gone to bed that night with a smile spread across his face, for tomorrow he would be returning to Hogwarts for his final year and would see many of his friends again. True, he had spent most of the summer with Ron and Hermione, but to be back within the walls of the castle again that had become his home these past six years was always a welcoming, reassuring thing. The world outside could change, but inside Hogwarts, nearly everything seemed to bring that comfort to Harry's heart and mind that only home could bring.

He thought about what he would do after Hogwarts, finding it hard to believe that his last year was upon him already. It truly seemed like yesterday when he had been entering those large oaken doors for the first time, filing into the Great Hall with all the other first years, looks of trepidation upon their innocent, young faces, and had the Sorting Hat placed on his head.

Although Harry was smiling, there was still sadness in his heart, for leaving Hogwarts would be leaving behind so much of what had become his life. The ever-looming threat of Voldemort had settled inside Harry long ago, and so, the niggling feeling of having to ultimately defeat him was always present. To put it simply: He was used to that feeling by now.

But none of this could have prepared Harry for what was about to happen this night.

Once all the youngsters had gone to sleep, Dumbledore had shown up on the front doorstep of Grimmauld Place. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, followed closely by Lupin, had invited him in, and they were now sitting around the kitchen table, cups of tea clenched in their hands. As Dumbledore lifted the tea cup with his knobby knuckles to his mouth, he cast a glance over at the door.

"I daresay the others should be arriving shortly," he murmured. "I understand that it is late, but I felt the need for this meeting to be kept quiet."

From his portrait perched on one of the rickety wooden chairs, Sirius grimaced.

"I still think Harry should have been allowed to sit in on this meeting," he grumbled. "He is, after all, officially part of the Order now."

"The risk may be too great," Dumbledore insisted, albeit gently. "We cannot risk Harry telling his friends, even Miss Granger or Mr. Weasley."

Solemn nods followed, and then the door to the kitchen opened, and in walked Minerva McGonagall, Severus Snape, Alastor Moody, Nympadora Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and even Rubeus Hagrid, who had to bend his head down to avoid hitting it on the doorframe.

"Well, we're all here, Albus," said Snape moodily, clearly annoyed at the late hour. "What does this meeting concern?"

"The reason I have called this meeting is to discuss ensuring the protection of all the students within the walls of Hogwarts this upcoming year," Dumbledore stated gravely, fixing everyone with a firm look. "As you all know, Voldemort has been growing more and more powerful..."

Meanwhile, Harry's composure had changed drastically since he had first put his head to the pillow a couple of hours previously. He tossed and turned in the bed, throwing the sheets about, and finally kicking them off the bed entirely. The whole while, Ron was sleeping soundly, his usual snores echoing off the cracked walls from his corner of the room.

He was standing in some darkened room, surrounded by a select few of Voldemort's followers. They were clad in their usual attire, and so, Harry couldn't see their faces, but he knew from the voice who the Death Eater was who was bowing reverently in front of him.

"My Lord," she said gratefully, "I am always here to do your bidding, and whatever you ask of me, I will fulfill."

Harry could feel the disappointment, which soon boiled into anger within the pit of his stomach. Through narrowed eyes, he replied as Voldemort, "You disappointed me over a year ago, Bella, at the Department of Mysteries, when you failed to do away with the Potter boy once and for all and when you failed to bring me the Prophecy."

Such hatred that Harry could not even comprehend was filling him, ready to spill over if he didn't release it soon.

"You whole lot are a disappointment," Voldemort hissed, right before hitting all four people kneeled at his feet with the Cruciatus Curse.

They screamed and writhed with pain for a minute, and then that high, cold voice spoke again. "This year, make no mistake. They will fall. All of them, especially Dumbledore and Potter. I have my means, oh, yes, I do. Isn't that right, Harry?"

Harry was aware of everything, and when Voldemort suddenly addressed him directly, he started, physically sitting up in bed.

"You know?" Harry heard himself asking from somewhere within the confines of his mind.

"Oh, yes, my boy," Voldemort sneered, "I know. Having fun sharing minds, are you? Thought you were finally rid of me, did you? Ah, just because I haven't entered into such consciousness as of late doesn't mean I still wasn't able to do so."

Harry was stunned into silence and totally unable to stop himself as he stood up and left the room. He walked down the hallway, and even though everything was blurred without his glasses, Voldemort, seeing through his very eyes, could make out everything well enough to finally make his way down the stairs and down the hallway, until he stopped just outside the door to the kitchen.

Deep within his mind, Harry was trying very hard to resist, but this was worse than the Imperius Curse... much worse and easily a hundred times stronger. With the connection between Harry and Voldemort being what it was, Voldemort had somehow managed to catch Harry off-guard when he had been sleeping, and in Harry's weakened state, the Dark Lord had been able to control him completely.

The door to the kitchen was cracked open just enough for Harry and Voldemort to peak in, but they would be able to overhear everything that was being said.

Finally, Harry was able to say, although only in his mind, for his body was sleepwalking, "Moody has that magical eye, you realize. He'll see me standing here in a heartbeat... and how is it we're able to hear what they're saying? Surely Dumbledore won't have just left the room unwarded..."

"Ah, you fool of a boy," Voldemort mocked. "You think I haven't prepared for such things? Perhaps you are not the powerful wizard everyone believes you to be if you can't even figure out that I, the most powerful Dark wizard, am easily able to overcome such childish charms."

Then, Harry was thrown back into silence, but as Voldemort listened, Harry was painfully aware of everything.

Dumbledore was discussing ways to strengthen the already very strong wards surrounding Hogwarts, much of his words and descriptions of spells being too advanced for Harry's comprehension. Voldemort, on the other hand, knew all too well much of what Dumbledore was talking about, and he was no doubt planning how to overcome Dumbledore's spells even now.

Eventually the meeting ended, and Voldemort made sure that Harry was removed from the door just in time.

"Well, this has been very enlightening, my boy," Voldemort remarked.

Harry could feel him smirking.

"I thank you, oh... and one more thing: Obliviate!

Harry didn't see a wand flung as the memory charm was placed on him. He didn't feel Voldemort leave him. He opened his eyes, finding himself in his bed, having no recollection that Voldemort had even been one with him just moments ago.

Yawning, Harry reached for his glasses and padded down the hallway to the bathroom. His mind was fuzzy and otherwise blank, the usual grogginess associated with waking up in the middle of the night when nature calls.

While Harry was sitting aimlessly on the toilet, Voldemort was laughing hysterically at what he had just found out. Harry felt the sudden twinge of his scar burning his forehead and wondered what Voldemort knew.

Why's he so bloody happy? he thought drowsily.

Then, realizing just what was happening, Harry's eyes widened, the full effect of this sudden feeling overtaking him. He finished up hastily in the bathroom and returned to his room, but the pain was already easing away from his scar.

This isn't the first time this has happened. Voldemort must be really excited about something, but what? I'll make sure to tell Dumbledore first thing when I get to Hogwarts tomorrow. If anything, maybe he can help.

Harry barely slept the remainder of the night, and when morning dawned, Mrs. Weasley's loud, demanding voice was already filling the house, practically shaking it from the very foundation.

"Wake up! Wake up, you lot!" she called.

Harry could hear her footsteps going down the hallway. Then came a resounding knocking on the bedroom door.

"Harry! Ron! Are you up in there?" her voice asked.

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley," Harry called back, as Ron mumbled nearly incoherently, "Yes'm."

As Harry pulled on a clean shirt, Ron was just sitting up in bed, rubbing at his eyes sleepily. He was glancing around the room in a daze, his eyes squinted.

"Argh, it's way too bloody bright in here," he complained, yawning. "The train doesn't even leave for another four hours, and she wants us up!"

Harry shrugged. He felt compelled to tease Ron about maybe needing glasses with the way he was squinting that morning, but most of his mind was too preoccupied with what had happened during the night.

Ron noticed Harry's silence as they prepared their bags and took them downstairs. Stopping him just at the top of the stairs, Ron asked, "What's up, Harry? You all right?"

"Erm," Harry replied, looking at his dirty shoes, "yeah... well... sorta."

"Uh-huh," Ron said sarcastically. "Really convincing, mate. C'mon, tell me."

"Tell you what?" came Hermione's voice, and looking up, Harry watched as Ginny and she approached them.

"It's nothing new," Harry blurted. "My scar just hurt last night, and, well, Voldemort's happy... really happy... about something."

Hermione regarded Harry carefully. "Yes, it's happened before, Harry, but not too recently. Maybe you should-"

"I'm gonna tell Dumbledore, okay?" he said exasperatedly. "Just... don't worry about it. There's nothing we can do right now."

Inside his mind, though, Harry was longing to do something. He had received his Apparation License over the summer, along with Ron and Hermione, and right now, Harry wanted nothing more than to apparate to the site of Voldemort, but the only problem was that he had no idea where that location would be.

I suppose that's one advantage to having a Dark Mark, he thought wryly. That'd take me right where I want to be.

Then Harry wondered if he really wanted to be in the company of Voldemort. It was a constant battle inside of him, fighting over wanting to ultimately destroy the Dark Lord or wanting to avoid him at all costs, hoping to perhaps live a "normal" life, but as long as Voldemort was in the world, Harry knew his life would never be normal.

"Okay," Hermione said quickly, wanting to avoid a heated discussion. "Let's just get downstairs, then, and have some breakfast."

"Sounds good to me," Ron quipped, always thinking about food.

Harry followed his friends downstairs to the kitchen, where Mrs. Weasley had prepared a wonderful breakfast, as usual. Besides Lupin, Tonks was present as well.

"Wotcher, Harry," she said, smiling. "All right, then?"

"Yeah, I'm all right," Harry replied, feigning a cheery face. Not wanting to draw any more attention to himself, Harry focused on his plate.

"I can't believe it's your last year at Hogwarts," Mrs. Weasley said proudly, although a trace of sadness was present in her tone. "It seems like just yesterday when you were a wee lad, Ron, and I was changing your diapers and-"

"Mum!" Ron exclaimed, blushing in embarrassment.

"Well, it's true," she persisted. "Just you wait until you have children. You'll find yourself saying the same thing."

Ron wanted to roll his eyes, but thought it best not to give his mother a reason to reprimand him. Most of the meal continued on in silence, but toward the end, Tonks suddenly said, "Wow, first day back already. Seems like summer just got started, doesn't it? It's sure been a busy day, already having had that me-"

"Ahem!" Mr. Weasley interjected, mock-clearing his throat and looking at Tonks pointedly.

Mrs. Weasley appeared like she was about to shove a bar of soap or otherwise Scorgify Tonks's mouth. Lupin looked shocked, while Sirius looked like he was trying far too hard to appear innocent.

"Yes, that meeting at work yesterday did seen rather important, didn't it?" Mr. Weasley asked, keeping his eyes firmly on Tonks.

"Meeting at-? Oh, yes," Tonks said, smiling pathetically. "Rather boring, though."

Harry glanced at Ron and Hermione and found them staring back at him. It was all too obvious that there was something that the adults weren't saying, and just as Ron opened his mouth to ask, Mrs. Weasley literally shoved a sausage in it, saying, "You still look hungry, Ron. Have another."

Knowing that it would be pointless to ask questions, Harry finished breakfast. Since everything was already packed, they decided it best to head for the train station. Just as they had done two years ago, they walked there.

They arrived with plenty of time to spare. Harry sat restlessly on a bench in the station, desperating longing to talk with Ron and Hermione about what it was they thought the adults were hiding from them. Finally, at ten-thirty, they proceeded through the invisible barrier to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters and boarded the train.

Wishing the Weasleys and Tonks goodbye, the teenagers and Lupin boarded the train. Lupin took a compartment to himself, keeping the now shrunken picture of Sirius in his pocket. Unfortunately for Harry, he knew that Ron and Hermione would have to eventually move to the Prefects' compartments before the ride started, but with the remaining time left, they sat all in the same compartment, the door shut, and spoke in hushed voices.

"So, what d'you all reckon that was about?" Ron asked.

No one had to ask was "that" was, for Ginny, Hermione, and Harry had all be wondering the same thing.

"Yes, what are they hiding?" Ginny inquired. "Do you think there was a secret meeting or something?"

"It sounds that way," Hermione agreed, nodding. "Harry, maybe when you go to speak with Dumbledore about your scar hurting last night, you can ask him if he knows anything about a meeting. It seems more than likely that those two things would be connected, don't you think?"

"I think so," Harry confirmed, unconsciously rubbing his scar. "I think so."