Harry Potter and the Power Unknown

Chapter 11: Aftermath

"Harry? Harry! Open your eyes!"

He was laying face down on the ground outside Hagrid's cabin, and he felt someone gently turn him over. His body ached all over, as if he had been beaten to within an inch of his life. Harry Potter was soaked to the bone in icy cold sweat and his body seemed stiff, like his skin had been pulled taut. He struggled to bring himself back to full consciousness, and his eyelids fluttered as he willed them to stay open. Despite the ringing in his ears, he could hear murmurs and whispers, and someone nearby was crying quietly.

"Open your eyes, Harry," repeated a voice from above him who proceeded to cover him with a cloak.

Harry could feel his glasses resting on his nose, but the face of Albus Dumbledore was swimming in and out of focus when he finally opened his eyes.

"Look at me, Harry," Dumbledore staid, looking down at Harry. He seemed to be muttering spells under his breath. Harry noticed the Headmaster was kneeling next to him along with someone Harry could barely identify as Lupin.

"That's it, stay with me."

Harry's head tilted to one side and his eyes rolled in the back of his head; he felt weak and sick, and unconsciousness was threatening to overtake him once more.

"No, Harry!" Dumbledore said, holding Harry's face firmly with one hand. "Look at me!"

Professor Ven came hurrying up to the crowd huddled around Harry holding a mug of steaming liquid. He handed the mug to Dumbledore and, assuming he would have to drink it, Harry attempted to sit up, then realized he couldn't move. Dumbledore lifted Harry's head gently and poured the liquid (which turned out to be hot chocolate) down Harry's throat. Harry felt a warmth rush deep within him, but his aches did not cease. Hoping the hot chocolate had something in it to allow him to move, he tried to sit up again, but to no avail.

"I've put a paralyzing charm on you from the neck down, Harry," Dumbledore explained. "You are extremely burned and badly injured from those burns, so it was for your own protection."

Harry licked his lips and spoke in a hoarse voice. "My hands... my hands feel like they're on fire..."

"You produced an incredibly powerful patronus, Harry, one that comes from the love and kindness that burns inside you," Dumbledore answered. "Since you apparently were not holding your wand, the spell burst out of you instead. Your hands hurt the most because they are the easiest exit point for a conjured spell; however, the spell also burned almost your entire body, so we need to get you up to the hospital wing."

Lupin conjured up bandages that wrapped themselves around the exposed parts of Harry's scorched skin, and Dumbledore magicked him onto a stretcher then the three of them headed for the hospital. Lupin attempted to keep Harry conscious by talking to him, but Harry's physical and mental strength seemed to be giving out.

"Harry," Lupin began, sounding desperate, "You've got to stay awake for just a little while longer. Madam Pomfrey needs you conscious while she tries to treat you."

"Will she be able to fix me?" Harry whispered weakly. Harry didn't notice, but Lupin's face displayed a deep sadness, like the face of a parent looking at a dying child.

"I will do my best," replied Madam Pomfrey. Her voice startled Harry, who had not realized they had just entered the hospital. "You may have some scarring, Harry," she added.

She conjured bandages similar to Lupin's, but hers had healing cream in them, and she proceeded to carefully wrap Harry's entire body after carefully removing the first bandages and the remains of his charred clothing. She used her wand to wrap him then to place him carefully in one of the hospital beds. She lifted his head and poured a potion down his throat; Harry, through his bandages, took one last look at Dumbledore and Lupin, and then drifted off into unconsciousness.

The incident with the dementors occurred Friday evening before the Halloween feast and Harry did not awaken until Sunday afternoon. His body still ached dully, but he could move and his bandages had been removed. He pushed himself up in his bed slowly and put on his glasses, and he was extremely happy when he saw who was in the hospital with him. Ron and Ginny were on the floor in the middle of a game of Gobstones and Hermione was sitting in a chair next to his bed immersed in a book called Careers for Wizards Who Can Do Everything; she was the first to notice him.

"Oh, Harry! Ron! Ron, he's awake!" she yelled, and then threw herself on him, causing him to wince in pain. "We ere so worried! When we saw you on the ground... and you were so burned..."

Harry glanced down at his arms after gently pulling Hermione off him; his skin was peeling slightly as if he was recovering from a bad sunburn. Ron and Ginny abandoned their Gobstones game and sat on the edge of Harry's bed.

"You've been asleep for almost two days, Harry," Hermione continued.

"What happened?" Harry asked. "I can't remember anything past when one of the dementors grabbed my neck."

"No one really knows, mate," Ron answered. "In fact, we were hoping you'd tell us. We were all in the Great Hall waiting for the feast to start when Professor Lupin came by our table looking for you. We told him about Malfoy and that you wanted some fresh air. He seemed a bit concerned, but then he left to find you and we didn't think anything of it."

Hermione shot Ron a look at this statement, so he corrected himself.

"Okay, fine. I didn't think anything of it," he said as he rolled his eyes. "Anyway, Dumbledore started the feast and everyone started eating, and that's when Lupin came bursting back into the Hall and yelled, 'Dumbledore! Dementors!' As soon as Dumbledore stood up, the all the lights went out. Everyone began to yell when a really bright white light came shining through the windows."

"Then all the windows shattered," continued Hermione, "and we all felt this weird tingling sensation, sort of like the room filled with static electricity. But once the light faded, the static did too, and we were left in the dark again. Dumbledore re-lit everything as he rushed outside with Lupin, and of course almost everyone followed them."

"We- that is, me, Ginny, Neville, Hermione and Luna- pushed our way to the front of the crowd once we got outside," Ron said. "Then we saw you..." He fell silent, and neither Hermione nor Ginny appeared willing to continue the conversation.

"What?" Harry demanded. He looked at Hermione who bit her lip and shook her head; Ron seemed determined not to look at him, so he turned to Ginny with pleading eyes. "Tell me, Ginny," he said gently.

"Oh, Harry," she began with tears in her eyes. This was the only moment in Harry's memory that Ginny looked and acted like her mother. "You were lying on the ground spread eagle, and part of a cape from a dementor was next to you. The grass and the cape were smoking... and so were you..."

She stopped suddenly, unwilling to continue, so Harry urged her on. "Go ahead," he said.

"You were completely burned, and so was everything around you," she said reluctantly. "It looked like you were lying in a crater; every inch of you was scorched, and even Dumbledore was afraid to move or even touch you. I guess he sensed the effects of the dementors still in you or something, because he sent Professor Ven to get some hot chocolate. Lupin knelt beside you and Dumbledore put a paralyzing spell on you so you wouldn't move around and cause your skin to, well..." She shifted uncomfortably.

"Fall off," Ron finished for her. Ginny shot him a hateful look, but Harry wasn't satisfied.

"You said there was a dementor's cloak next to me?" he asked. Ginny and Hermione nodded. "What happened to the dementor? How did I get so burned?"

"No one knows for sure, Harry," Hermione answered. "You were the only one out there at the time, but Dumbledore thinks you produced an extremely powerful patronus by releasing all the power within you, and the heat from your magic is what burned everything."

Harry waved his hand impatiently. "Dumbledore told me this already, I think. But what happened to the dementor?" he demanded again.

"Dumbledore was telling Professor Snape and Professor Ven yesterday that your patronus was so powerful that it sort of... melted the dementor," said Hermione. "In fact, I'm surprised the dementor's cloak survived at all, considering that the dementor was turned to ash..."

"Whoa, whoa! Hold on," said Harry, his mouth hanging open. "What do you mean 'melted'?"

"There was nothing left but that small piece of the cloak, mate," Ron explained. "The other dementors took off, I guess, but Dumbledore said that the one probably gripping your neck completely disintegrated. But the spell torched your body too; you barely had skin left, much less clothes."

Ginny blushed slightly and turned away, hoping Harry had not noticed. Harry, as a matter a fact, did not notice because he was focused on a question he dreaded to ask.

"So, what do I look like now? Is my face...?"

"Oh, you look fine, Harry!" Hermione said cheerfully. "No, really, you do!" she added after seeing the skeptical look on his face. "Madam Pomfrey did a great job healing you."

"She had to put in for some special potions from St. Mungos, but you look way better then you did before," Ron added.

"Ron!" Ginny scolded, elbowing her brother in the ribs.

"Ow! Well, he does!" Ron insisted. "His hair's even grown back already."

"My hair was gone!"

Ron laughed. "Yeah, mate, you looked like a..." he stopped at another elbow in the ribs, this time from Hermione. Ron cleared his throat. "Anyway, we all thought the scar on your forehead might not come back once your new layer of skin grew in, but no such luck."

"Well, it's not exactly an ordinary scar, is it?" Harry pointed out.

"Cheer up, Harry," said Ron. "You know the year's not complete unless you've had at least one night's stay in the hospital wing."

Everyone, including Harry, laughed.

A few moments later, Madam Pomfrey came out of her office and shooed everyone out. Harry's friends bid him goodbyes then left the hospital wing, leaving Harry to be pestered and nagged by Madam Pomfrey. Harry endured her fussing, however, knowing it would be worse not to.

"How long do I have to stay here?" he asked her.

"As long as necessary," Madam Pomfrey answered automatically, but her expression softened when she looked at Harry's disappointed face. "Most likely just one more night, Harry; you may return to your dormitory tomorrow." With the prospect of returning to normality along with a potion to dull his pain, Harry actually managed a decent night's sleep.

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As was to be expected, Harry was still the topic among most students at the end of the weekend. Many students, most who were in the DA, either kept a respectful distance or told him they were happy he was doing so well. Other students, however, were not as considerate.

"Try to ignore them, Harry," said Hermione at breakfast on Harry's first day back after seeing him scowl at a group of whispering Slytherins.

"I'm so sick and tired of being Harry the Freak," Harry complained. "I just want to be normal..."

"But you're not normal, Harry," said a dreamy voice behind him.

Hermione, from across the table, looked up from her books as Harry and Ron turned in their seats to see Luna Lovegood standing behind them.

"What do you mean, 'he's not normal'?" Ron asked irritably.

Her bulgy eyes turned to Ron as she said, "He's the only one to ever survive a killing curse from Voldemort. He's the only one who can destroy Voldemort." She turned back to Harry after gazing curiously at Ron's flinches and said, "Harry, you're not normal and you never will be. It's not a bad thing; it's what makes you, well... you. The sooner you accept that, the happier you will be."

Harry looked up at her curiously and opened his mouth to respond, but before he had a chance Luna said, "I'm delighted you're feeling better anyway, Harry." Then she turned on her heel and floated over to the Ravenclaw table.

"What the bloody hell is she talking about?" Ron asked incredulously. Harry shrugged and when back to his bacon.

A short while later, Harry and Hermione headed for potions. Professor Ven had them working on an unusual potion to recover memory. Harry was about to inquire if it would work on someone like Lockhart when Professor Ven explained it only works for short-term memory loss. Afterwards, Harry thanked the professor for helping him the previous Friday, then left the class and headed for Care for Magical Creatures. Lunch followed, and then the trio headed for Defense Against the Dark Arts. Harry was eager to start working on spells again since Madam Pomfrey kept him from using magic for the entire weekend.

Once the class had settled, Snape informed the class that due to everyone's poor performance on shield charms, he would be moving to defensive attacks.

"Counter-attacks can be very useful when trying to fight defensively," he said, "but timing is everything in these spells, and judging by the tardiness record of Gryffindor house, this may prove to be too difficult for you. I have no inclination to even try to teach you." He took a moment's pause to allow this last statement to penetrate the minds of the irritated Gryffindor students before continuing. "However, the Headmaster insists, so I will teach you."

Snape started with a freezing spell that blankets the opponent in ice, allowing the spell-caster to run for cover, and of all the students in the class, Harry was struggling the most.

"What's the deal, mate?" Ron asked after class. "Last week you disintegrated a dementor and this week you can't seem to manage a single spell."

Harry simply shrugged in response; he had no idea why is magic wasn't working properly.

"Maybe you're just tired," Hermione suggested in a 'matter-of-fact' sort of way. "Or maybe the Patronus you conjured last Friday took all of your energy, so now you have to rehabilitate your magic."

"What?" exclaimed Harry and Ron simultaneously, stopping in their tracks.

Hermione continued walking towards the Greenhouses for Herbology, so she yelled over her shoulder, "You have a free period, Harry; go look it up in the library. Come ON, Ron!"

Ron turned to Harry and quietly said, "Bloody hell, she's bossy."

Harry, not really caring about bringing the obvious to Ron's attention, said, "Oh why don't you just admit it, Ron. You like her bossiness."

Ron shrugged. "It's a bit much sometimes, is all. See ya, Harry."

"Bye," Harry replied grumpily. He stood in the Entrance Hall for a few minutes, and then decided finally to heed Hermione's advice, so he headed for the library.

By the end of the period, Harry had found nothing about wizards losing magic. He joined Ron and Hermione at dinner extremely frustrated, and his frustration worsened when Hermione asked, "Did you have any luck?" then replying after he shook his head, "Well, you just weren't looking hard enough." He shoved the rest of his food down his throat, then left the table in a huff and headed for the Gryffindor common room. He sat in the large armchair by the fire and sulked until Ron and Ginny joined him. Ron asked for some help with his potions homework and Ginny kept to herself, gently petting Crookshanks by the fire. Harry was the first to go to bed; he wanted to avoid the questions he knew Hermione would ask about his research. It took him a while to calm his frustration, but he began to hope that his magic might return in the morning and eventually fell into a dreamless sleep.

After almost two full days of aggravation due to his lack of magic, Harry was dreading going to occlumency more than ever before. He knew Lupin would get on his case about not practicing, and he was not in the mood to be nagged.

"Oh, hello Harry," Lupin said as Harry entered his office. "How are you feeling?"

Harry shrugged; he decided that, in case a miracle should happen, he would not tell Lupin about his loss of power yet.

"Alright, Harry. We're going to focus on more control today; I have to tell you, I'm rather tired of getting thrown across the room," Lupin said cheerfully.

Harry tried (and failed) to smile in response, and nodded when Lupin asked, "Are you ready?" Lupin raised his wand and said, "Legilimens!"

Harry was five, finally understanding why his parents were gone... he was nine, in the school nurse's office with a bloody nose from Dudley... he was thirteen, watching in horror as a werewolf forms out of Lupin... he was fourteen, his chest contracting as he watched his mother emerge from Voldemort's wand...

Harry felt a sharp pain on his left knee as he collided with a desk after becoming overwhelmed. Lupin rushed over to help him up and said, "What was that, Harry? You didn't even try."

"Something happened to my magic after the dementors," Harry replied, irritated and frustrated that Lupin thought he wasn't trying.

"That's not surprising when you consider the amount of power you displayed," Lupin said, "but we can't continue with you like this. It's dangerous for you to be without magic; let's see what Dumbledore has to say, alright?"

Harry nodded and followed Lupin out into the hall and asked, "What do you mean, 'it's not surprising'? I looked everywhere in the library for a book about this and I couldn't find anything."

Lupin walked very quickly toward Dumbledore's office and spoke to Harry over his shoulder, "It's not unheard of, Harry. It is possible to strip a wizard of his powers with extremely powerful spells, so I can imagine it's possible for a wizard to strip himself of his own magic."

Harry paused just before the door to the staircase leading up to Dumbledore's office and asked, "But you've never heard about it happening before, have you?"

Lupin did not answer Harry but rather spoke the password and motioned for Harry to get on the revolving staircase. He entered the office without knocking and headed for Dumbledore's large desk. "Have a seat, Harry," he said, "I'm sure Dumbledore will be back soon."

After a few minutes of silence, a burst of flame erupted above the desk and Dumbledore appeared holding onto Fawks' tail.

"Hello, Harry, Remus," he said. "What can I do for you?"

Lupin looked down a Harry who said, "My magic is... gone, professor."

"Gone, you say?"

"Yes, sir. I noticed it my first day back; before the dementor attack I couldn't think of a spell without performing it automatically, and now I can barely do spells I learned first year."

Dumbledore sat behind his desk and folded his hands together. "Tonight it was as if he never learned occlumency," Lupin added.

"Yes, I was afraid of this," Dumbledore said.

"What do you mean?" Harry demanded, trying to keep his temper.

"Since your magic became so powerful so fast, you were unable to exercise any control over it. When your body sensed that your life was in danger, you automatically reacted, releasing your power to its fullest extent; since you had no control to stop the release, your magic was released until it was completely drained."

Harry looked up at Dumbledore and asked the question he dreaded the most, "Will it come back?"

Dumbledore smiled. "Yes, it will, Harry," he answered, "But it will take time and practice. Your magic will rebuild to its full, and possibly dangerous, potential but as to how long it will take, I do not know."

"That's not good enough, Albus," Lupin interjected angrily. Harry had not seen him this distressed since he yelled at Snape before the start of term. "You know Harry's a constant target for Voldemort! What if he finds out his power is gone? He'll be more vulnerable than he is now!"

"I know Remus," said Dumbledore. "But there is nothing more we can do."

"Isn't there some sort of spell he can..."

"There is nothing more we can do," Dumbledore repeated more forcefully.

Harry suspiciously looked up at Dumbledore then turned to look at Lupin, who was wearing the same look of confusion.

"Harry, I need to speak with Remus, and it is almost dinnertime," Dumbledore said.

"Go on downstairs, Harry; I will talk with you later," said Lupin.

Harry glanced up at the Headmaster; more hurt than angry that Dumbledore was blatantly not doing everything in his power to help him in anyway he could, just as he has always done. Dumbledore seemed to sense Harry's disappointment.

"You must listen to me, Harry; spells of this nature are extremely dangerous. Some of them can drive you mad and even land you in Azkaban. Do you understand? You must not try any spells claiming to give you power. I'll tell you what I will do, however; I will ask your teachers not to call on you so you do not advertise the fact that your magic is weakened."

Harry sighed and nodded, then left the office and headed for dinner.

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A couple of weeks passed, and Harry's magic still had not recovered. Rumors of his condition began to spread through the school, especially after he cancelled all DA meetings, and Harry knew it was just a matter of time before Voldemort would find out. He continued checking in the library for any information, but to know avail.

At lunch one afternoon, Harry's attention was drawn to the Slytherin table, and he suspiciously eyed the conversation Malfoy in a huddled talk with his usual clique.

"Do they have to keep turning to look at me? Why to they always have to advertise that they're talking about me?" Harry complained to Ron and Hermione. "I get the feeling Malfoy has something in store for me. The Slytherins have left me alone since the dementor attack; I think they are itching for a fight now they know my magic is worthless."

"Well, they may not know," Hermione suggested hopefully, Her eyes briefly moved up as if she was looking behind Harry, then they returned to her plate. "But just be careful Harry. Remember you don't have enough magic to properly defend yourself, so don't go picking a fight."

"I know that, Hermione," Harry snapped.

"You know," Ron began, "I wonder if You-Know-Who knew this would happen if you were pushed to use your magic."

"Huh?" asked Harry.

"What if You-Know-Who sent the dementors after you because he knew your magic was out of control? Maybe he hoped you would spend it all trying to defend yourself. Maybe he needs to be weak," Ron suggested.

"Well, that actually makes sense," Hermione added thoughtfully.

"Don't act so surprised," Ron told her with a smirk. She ignored him.

"Think about it, Harry," she said. "Voldemort sent the dementors after you hoping you would use everything you had in you to defend yourself; even if you didn't, there was a chance the dementors could capture you. It was a win-win situation."

"Well that makes everything just PERFECT, doesn't it?" Harry spat angrily.

"Harry..." Hermione began warningly.

"What difference does it make, Hermione?" Harry interrupted. "I have no power so I can't blow up the school anymore, can I? Not only do I not have any power, but Voldemort planned the whole thing in the first place so now he knows I can't defend myself. I might as well just sit back and wait for him to kill me since there's nothing I can do about it anyway."

"No," said a firm voice behind Harry and Ron. Both spun around and saw Ginny Weasley standing with her arms folded across her chest.

"How long have you been there?" Ron asked, and then turned to Hermione across from him. "How long has she been there?"

Hermione smiled but did not look up from her plate. "Long enough," she said.

"Harry, you're doing it again," Ginny said.

"Doing what, exactly?" Harry asked irritably without looking at Ginny.

"Feeling sorry for yourself," Ginny replied, her eyes never leaving Harry. "You're a fighter, Harry. You know you wouldn't be able to sit and wait to be killed even if you wanted to."

Harry finally turned and looked up at her, frustrated because he knew she was right, but desperate to tell her that he was tired of fighting. Ginny scooched herself in between Ron and Harry and sat down, then continued her statement.

"I will be with you, Harry," she said, "We all will. You are always the first to protect us, so let us protect you for a change."

Harry's face softened, and he smiled slightly at Ginny while taking her hand in his. "Thanks, Ginny."

He finished his meal in silence, listening to Hermione's daily tirade about Ron's study habits. She cut it short when Harry mentioned it was almost time for charms. Ron mouthed a silent "Thank you" to Harry for interrupting Hermione, then the three of them were off to class. They headed for the entrance hall, then the Grand Staircase and proceeded up the stairs to floor six. Before they reached the top stair, however, they noticed Malfoy, wand in hand, and his Slytherin crew standing just past the top of the staircase.

"Is it true then, Potter?" he asked. "Do you really have no magic?"

"Get out of the way, Malfoy," Harry said defiantly, slowly pulling his wand out and continuing to walk forward.

A large grin spread across Malfoy's faces as Harry walked towards him. He grabbed Harry's arm and leaned forward do his face was inches from Harry's and said, "Why don't you make me, Potter?"

"I thought I did last week," Harry spat back at him, jerking his arm free. "I seem to remember my fist connecting with your face."

"Yes, I remember that too," said Malfoy, "and it's time for payback."

Suddenly, Crabbe jumped at Ron and put him in a headlock, and Pansy Parkinson pinned Hermione against the wall. Goyle rushed at Harry who, because he was trying to help Ron, did not have time to get out of the way. Goyle grabbed Harry by the collar of his shirt, threw him against the hallway wall and held him about an inch off the ground. Malfoy strolled up to Harry while the remaining Slytherins kept a look out. Harry thought of every defensive spell he knew but of course, his thoughts had no effect on Goyle. Malfoy continued to stroll up to Harry as a crowd of onlookers began to form, then he pointed his wand at Harry and muttered a spell under his breath.

Harry was released from Goyle's grip and fell to the ground, then doubled over in pain. Both Ron and Hermione struggled to get to Harry, as did a few students in the crowd, but the Slytherins kept them at bay. Harry gritted his teeth, willing himself not to give Malfoy the satisfaction of knowing his insides felt like they were on fire. Then the pain faded as quickly as it had come, and Harry opened his eyes just as he thought he heard Ron and Hermione cry out. What he saw made his heart contract with fear.

Ron, Hermione and everyone in the surrounding crowd were lying face down on the ground. They were dead, and only Malfoy and his gang of Slytherins remained. Malfoy leaned close to Harry and said quietly, "You've failed them, Potter. They're all dead because of you."

No, no, no... This can't be! Harry thought.

Malfoy smiled. "That's right, Potter. You're all alone again; no parents, no friends, only death..."

All of a sudden, Malfoy was hit square in the chest by a bright red light and thrown back, away from Harry. Crabbe and Pansy released Ron and Hermione, staring at the unconscious Malfoy on the ground. Harry blinked and shook his head, then breathed a sigh of relief when he saw everyone alive and well. He looked around for the person who hit Malfoy with the stunning spell and was shocked to see a very angry-looking Luna Lovegood. Her wand was clutched tightly in her hand and still pointed at Malfoy, and her brow was furrowed as she frowned at the Slytherins.

"You better go pick him up," she told Crabbe and Goyle while nodding in Malfoy's direction.

Professor Flitwick came walking out of the classroom and asked, "What's going on out here?"

Hermione reacted quickly. "Nothing, professor," she lied, leading him back into his classroom. "But I do have a question abut a spell."

The classroom door clicked closed and Luna offered a hand to Harry to help him off the ground. "Are you alright, Harry?" she asked.

"Yeah... thanks," Harry mumbled, embarrassed.

"It's okay," Luna answered dreamily," but I can't believe no one else tried to help you."

"Hey!" Ron protested. "I would have if that idiot troll hadn't tired to choke me to death."

Luna looked at Ron with her bulgy eyes but did not answer him. She turned back to Harry and smiled, causing his stomach to twitch as it did when he looked at her on the train. "Have a good day," she said, then glided away as if nothing had happened.

Ginny came running up the stairs a few moments later and breathlessly asked, "What happened? Are you alright, Harry?" She walked toward him and put her hand on his shoulder, but Harry felt so humiliated that he could barely meet her eye.

Ginny looked curiously at Ron, who said very quickly and quietly, "Malfoy attacked him. Luna saved him."

"Luna?!" Ginny exclaimed disbelievingly. A twinge of jealousy crept up her neck and onto her face.

Without a word or a look at Ginny, Harry headed for Flitwick's classroom with his head down to avoid any eye contact. Ron shrugged to a red-faced Ginny, then followed Harry to class.

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"Professor Flitwick told me about Malfoy's spell," Hermione told Harry in the common room after dinner. Harry had skipped dinner completely in his desperation to escape all the looks and whispers. He barely raised his head to look at Hermione.

"Why didn't you say anything before?" he asked.

"Because you've been so busy trying to avoid everyone I haven't had the chance," she said dismissively. "When Professor Flitwick came out if his class I asked him about the spell right away while I led him back into the classroom so Luna wouldn't get in trouble. I didn't tell him Malfoy cast it on you, Harry," she said when his head snapped up. "I just told him I was wondering about phobia spells."

Harry's eyes widened. "How did you know...?"

"Well, first you seemed like you were in pain, then when you looked up you had this weird look on your face," Hermione explained. "I've never seen you look so panicked and scared. So I asked the Professor if there were any spells that could cast the sane effects as a dementor, and he told me about Phobis Timor. He said the spell causes the victims to be trapped in their own mental fears; apparently it can drive a person just as crazy as a dementor can without having to suck out your soul. What did you see, Harry, if you don't mind me asking?"

A chill ran up Harry's spine as he recalled the blank expressions of the dead students around him. "Everyone around me was dead, and Malfoy told me that I failed to protect everyone, that I let you all die."

"I swear, one of these days I'm going to give Malfoy what's coming to him," Ron said angrily.

"Oh, Ron, don't be ridiculous," said Hermione, rolling her eyes. "Malfoy's not worth your time. Anyway, I don't know how he could have learned something like that. I doubt Voldemort or Lucius took the time to teach him, and Professor Flitwick said the books about phobia spells are all in the restricted section; I can't imagine that Madam Pince would allow him in the restricted section, so I can't figure out how he learned it."

"It doesn't matter anyway," Harry said grumpily. "Now the whole school knows I can't defend myself. I'm sure everyone's enjoying a good laugh at my expense as always."

"You might be surprised, Harry," Hermione responded to his bitter comment. "A lot of the DA members are really concerned, especially since most people, even those who don't know the prophecy, believe you are the one who can stop Voldemort. A lot of students are really worried about you; even Cho came up to me and asked how you were."

"Really?" Harry asked, surprised. "What did you tell her?"

"Well, I was about to tell her that you were fine, but Ginny interrupted me and told Cho it was none of her business. She kind of went off on a tangent, actually," Hermione explained with a grin. "She told Cho that if she was that concerned then she shouldn't have been such as bitch to you in the first place."

Harry smiled slightly to himself at Ginny's obvious jealousy. Ron apparently shared the same sentiment because he said, "Well, it serves her right. She's completely metal if you ask me, Harry, even more so than Hermione." He looked over at Hermione and smiled at her, and was surprised to see her smile back.

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After three weeks of what Harry considered worthless practice in class, with Lupin and with Dumbledore, his magic was finally showing some potential, but it was still weaker than it was before he began at Hogwarts. The attack by Malfoy disheartened him greatly, but his "rescue" by Luna was downright humiliating. Now the whole school thought he wasn't able to look after himself; Malfoy was still having a field day, laughing at Harry every chance he got because Harry was always surrounded by people willing to look out for him. Harry was grateful for their concern, but he was overly frustrated at everyone asking him how he was doing. He began to worry about other things too; not only was this whole ordeal terribly embarrassing, Harry knew it was also dangerous. Malfoy surely told his father about Harry's condition, and Lucius most likely informed Lord Voldemort.

I have to try something else, Harry thought as he threw his schoolbag on the common room floor one evening in late November. This is getting ridiculous.

Harry had cut his dinner short again, hoping to get to the library to look once more for a solution to his problem, even though Dumbledore had warned him against it. He told Ron and Hermione at dinner that he was sick of being without magic and even though Hermione was inclined to trust Dumbledore, she knew that Harry needed magic sooner than it would take to rebuild it naturally. Harry intended to check the restricted section, but Madam Pince informed him that Dumbledore did not want him in the restricted section for any reason. Harry's anger at Dumbledore doubled after this, and instead of heading back to the Great Hall he decided to sulk by the fire in the Gryffindor common room.

The common room filled slowly over the next hour with students returning from dinner, so Harry plopped himself in a chair by the fireplace and away from the crowd. Ron, Neville and Ginny joined him shortly thereafter, and Harry was more than happy to engage Ron in a game of Wizard Chess. After an hour or two, however, Harry suddenly noticed that Hermione was not back from dinner yet.

"What did she say when she left?" Harry asked Ron.

"She left before me and Ginny," Ron answered, "and said she was going to the library, but I thought she would be back way before now."

Harry, who was even more on-edge than usual after the dementor attack, had the feeling that Hogwarts was not necessarily as safe as he always assumed it was, and he began to feel worried about Hermione.

Then, around midnight and just after Ginny turned in, Hermione came through the portrait hole lugging her book bag and a very large, leather-bound book entitled Power for the Powerless.

"You were right, Harry," she said, breathless from the combined weight of her book bag and the new book. "I couldn't find anything until I finally convinced Madam Pince to let me browse the restricted section."

Harry's interest peaked at this statement, so he decided not to chew her out for being so late. Ron, however, was not as forgiving. "What the hell took you so long?" he asked irritably.

Hermione appeared to be a bit surprised at Ron's concern. "Huh?" she asked.

"You took forever! I was... I mean, er..." Ron's ears flushed red. "I mean, we were worried about you."

"Oh! I'm sorry!" Hermione said honestly. "I just forgot about the attack and everything..."

"It's okay, Hermione. What did you find?" Harry interrupted. He was eager to find out what was happening to him, so Hermione glanced at Ron for approval. Ron's mouth was slightly open as if he wanted to say something more, but he decided against it and closed his mouth, so Hermione began to speak again.

"I looked in the regular library for hours until Madam Pince came up to me and asked if I needed help. I knew she denied you access to the Restricted Section, Harry," she added when seeing that Harry was about to interrupt, "so I told her that I was doing an extra project and needed to research power transfer spells. She pointed me to an area in the back of the restricted section where I found this." She heaved Power for the Powerless onto a small end table by the armchairs. It took me so long to find it, though, so I haven't had a chance to look through it."

Harry moved a chair closer to the firelight and placed the book on his lap after sitting down. Ron and Hermione huddled around Harry as he began to flip through the chapters.

"Here's something," he said, pausing at Chapter Thirteen entitled, "Magical Bonds and Power Transfer". He began to read.

True magical bonds are rare, and only powerful wizards can forge them. Many magical bonds are formed by accident and it is not until later in life that the connection between the wizards or witches is discovered, but still some are formed between say, a mother and child.

In the Middle Ages, "dark" wizards were known for forging connections with unknowing yet powerful "light" wizards and using those connections to transfer the magic from the "light" wizard to himself or herself. It is not uncommon that bonded wizards share dreams, visions, thoughts and even emotions, and it has been speculated that powerful wizards sharing a particularly powerful bond are connected not only in life, but in death as well. The death of one wizard could very well cause the death of the wizard connected to him.

Harry paused; he could feel the color draining out of his face. He could think of no reason why he was surprised by this information since he had been expecting this after hearing the prophecy, but the passage seemed to take the wind out of him. Ron seemed to feel the same because he voiced what Harry was thinking.

"Seems a lot worse when it's written, doesn't it?" Ron said.

Harry nodded. Hermione said nothing but grabbed the book out of Harry's lap and set it on her own, then continued reading.

Power transfer spells only work with extremely powerful connections. If a young wizard shares a special bond with his mother, the mother may choose to transfer her power to him if he is somehow weakened. Dark wizards also used the incantation, Evalesco Delego, many years ago to steal power from others until the Imperious Curse was discovered. Instead of stealing power, the Imperious Curse simply allows a dark witch or wizard to control those with the power they desire.

Hermione swallowed hard, then continued.

About a century ago when Ministry for Magic officials dubbed Imperio, Crucio, and Avada Kedavra unforgivable curses, there was talk of including Evalesco Delego and forbidding its use, but the idea was turned down as the spell can also be used for healing purposes.

There is still great concern about the many risks of this spell, however. If a witch or wizard whose magic has not fully matured tries to use the power transfer spell, he or she might literally overload the body. The overload causes the witch or wizard to be unable to break the connection, resulting in the death of those sharing the bond and possibly the death of anyone in the vicinity. Additionally, some situations documented by Saint Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries show the recovery process of wizards who had become addicted to power transfer. Most of these were dark wizards, required by the Ministry for Magic to enter a "rehabilitation" program after serving time in Azkaban.

The chapter went on to explain that there was no record of anyone dying from this spell because no bond strong enough ever existed, but Harry knew that if Voldemort could enter his mind and produce false images, their connection must be stronger than anything recorded in wizard history.

Plus, he thought, I'm seeing his thoughts through his eyes. There's nothing documented about that in this book.

When he returned from his thoughts, Hermione was explaining to Ron that a wizard's addiction to power and magic is very similar to a muggle's addiction to mind-altering substances called "drugs".

"I don't get it," said Ron. "Why would muggles do something that will ultimately kill them? I mean, a wizard's addiction to power hasn't made anyone snuff it."

"Not that we know of, Ron," explained Hermione, "but it is entirely possible."

"But I still..." Ron began.

"So," Harry interrupted, "I need to learn this spell. Hermione, can you help me?"

Both his friends gaped at him, flabbergasted at his request.

"Are you completely mental?!" Ron asked.

"Oh, Harry, this spell is too dangerous! There has to be another way! Dumbledore said your magic would come back on its own, and he warned you against trying something like this!" Hermione protested. "Besides, it says here," she pointed at a page in the book, "that in most cases you have to be in direct contact with the wizard you are connected to. Only really powerful wizards, who have FULL control over their magic, can perform the transfer spell from far away; Let's face it, Harry, you're magic is in no condition to try something like that."

"Exactly! Which is why..." Harry began, but Ron cut him off.

"Which means you would have to be with You-Know-Who to absorb his powers!"

"Look," Harry explained, "I know what Dumbledore said, but then why did you go to the library to help me, Hermione? I'm not going to seek Voldemort out or anything, and I'll work harder on rebuilding my magic naturally like Dumbledore said. But if I somehow end up near Voldemort, I'm going to need the spell! I can't fight him without magic!"

Ron opened his mouth as if he wanted to speak, closed it, then opened it again and, unable to form any words closed it once more. Hermione said nothing, but the horror on her face had not faded.

"Please," Harry pleaded, "I need your help. I can't risk being powerless if I face him."

And, accepting defeat, Harry's best friends nodded their agreement. They headed for bed, and Harry finally felt a sense of security that his magic was not totally lost. He climbed into bed and pulled the curtains closed, thinking about when he would start practicing the spell. As he lay in bed, however, Harry debated with himself, wondering if trying this spell was really a good idea.

I know the spell has risks, he reasoned with himself, but Voldemort will come for me soon if he finds out I am virtually unprotected.

The debate continued in his head until he eventually drifted off into a restless sleep.

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"This is most distressing news," Harry said in a high, cold voice. "Tell me everything you know."

"I don't know who it is, my Lord," insisted a death eater whose face was covered. His voice was shaky and nervous. "All I know is a death eater has been spying for Dumbledore since your return."

"You have done well, Rogers. I can see your induction last week was not a mistake as many death eaters believed," Harry said.

"Thank you, my Lord," Rogers replied, his body clearly relaxing from relief.

"You say you don't know who this traitor is? You're not trying to protect him, are you?" asked Harry.

"N-No, my Lord," Rogers maintained, his nervousness returning.

Harry took a deep breath in, his nostrils flaring, and smelled the fear seeping off the man in front of him. "I smell lies, Rogers," he said, raising his wand.

"Pl-Please, M-Master, my wife just had a son... I would n-never lie to you," Rogers pleaded, dropping to his knees. "Oh! Th-there is once more thing, my Lord," he continued desperately. "The sp-spy..." Rogers was clearly struggling between his conscience and saving his own life. "I heard the spy was ... is v-very close to Dumbledore, trusted beyond most."

Comprehension dawned on Harry's face, and true hatred and anger rose within him and spread around the room like a thick, poisonous fume. "Thank you, Rogers," he said. "You have been most helpful, but you need to learn not to keep things from Lord Voldemort." Harry watched the man flinch at his name and cower at his feet.

"Pl-Please... no..."

"Do not worry, Rogers," Harry said reassuringly, "I shall be more merciful to you than to the traitor." He raised his wand and said, "Crucio!"

Rogers screamed, twisting and contorting in pain... Harry could feel the pain in his scar... Harry could feel the pain in his scar building... He was laughing at Rogers and screaming in pain at the same time...

Suddenly, Harry's eyes snapped open and he was back in bed at Hogwarts. He wiped the sweat off his face, untangled himself from the sheets, and looked around to make sure his roommates were still asleep. Then he jumped out of bed and dressed quickly; he hardly noticed he was putting on different socks. He had to find Dumbledore, to warn him: Snape was in danger.