Rating:: PG-13
House:: Schnoogle
Characters:: Harry Potter Hermione Granger Ron Weasley Remus Lupin Sirius Black
Genres:: Action Drama
Era:: Multiple Eras
Spoilers:: Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire
Stats:: Published: 03/12/2003

Updated: 06/18/2004

Words: 105,717

Chapters: 17

Hits: 25,132

Harry Potter and the Dark Mark

venus

Story Summary:: The sequel to Harry Potter and the Heir of Gryffindor. In Harry's 6th year, the Wizarding world is in bedlam: the dark movement is on the rise with a streak of senseless murders one after the other after the other. Harry's quest to stop the terror leads to the revelation of ancient secrets, re-visiting the past , and some old scores are *finally* settled!

Chapter 02

Chapter Summary:: The sequel to Harry Potter and the Heir of Gryffindor. In Harry’s 6th year, the Wizarding world is in bedlam: the dark movement is on the rise with a streak of senseless murders one after the other after the other. Harry’s quest to stop the terror leads to the revelation of ancient secrets, re-visiting the past, and some old scores are *finally* settled!

Posted:: 03/13/2003

Hits:: 1,899

Chapter Two:

It was no surprise that the next morning, Arthur Weasley was called off to the Ministry, leaving Molly alone with the boys at the Inn. She'd been badly shaken by the tragedy of the night before and wasn't responding to the boys´ attempts to console her. She just kept saying over and over again how she couldn't wait to get out of Ireland and how she wanted to see her Ginny.

Nobody wanted to venture back to the High street, especially after Pigwidgeon flew in the bedroom window to deliver the morning paper:

TRAGEDY IN HEATHERWOOD HOLLOW
Heatherwood Hollow, Ireland. The peaceful, popular tourist town of Heatherwood Hollow was thrown into bedlam late yesterday evening. At 9:14 pm, a massive explosion was set off on Heatherwood High Street from inside a vacant, boarded up building. The explosion was so great that it set the building on fire and claimed the life of an innocent bystander, one Mrs. Mildred Reafsnyder, forty-nine, a prominent sorceress from London. Reafsnyder was in town on holiday with her husband and two sons and happened to be passing when the building exploded, the ruptured glass mortally wounding her in the chest.
Just moments after the explosion, the infamous Dark Mark appeared overhead. Ministry Wizards are calling this a "deliberate and unprovoked attack intended to cause panic to the wizarding community".
"Let there be no doubt," said Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge, who appeared at the crime scene, "that justice will be served to all who had a share in this crime."
Reafsnyder was a pillar in the wizarding community, a successful businesswoman and philanthropist known across the continent for her generosity and charity-- specifically for her contributions to the defense against the dark arts league. Memorial services will be held at Willow Vale Mortuary this Saturday.

"Unthinkable," said Molly, her eyes tearing up as she thrust the newspaper aside. "Absolutely unthinkable."

They sat around a lightwood table near a window in Molly and Arthur's hotel room that looked out over the ocean. Pigwidgeon was squawking, flapping his wings, and hopping from Molly to Ron to Molly again, begging for some kind of attention.

"What´s wrong with your owl?" asked Dudley. "She´s throwing a fit!"

"She," said Ron, "is ahe, and I can´t even begin to list all the things wrong with him. Go on, Piggy. . . Go on, shoo! You heard, shoo!"

Pigwidgeon gave one last, frustrated, angry hoot before turning up his beak and flying out the window.

"So. . ." said Dudley, "Mr. Weasley works for the Ministry of Magic?"

"Yes Dudley, that's right. In the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office."

"Oh," he said quietly. "Misuse of Muggle Artifacts. . ." he paused. "I. . . I don't reckon that would have much to do with what happened last night."

"Well . . . it doesn't seem so, does it. But from what I've been told from Arthur, whenever. . ." her voice hushed. "Whenever something noteworthy happens involving You-Know-Who, it is customary for an immediate assembly of the Ministry to be called."

"I understand," Dudley breathed. But Harry knew that Dudley really didn't understand everything. He needed to be educated on a couple points.

"It's been a while since we've all seen the mark," Ron explained. "Last time it appeared like that in front of so many people was about two years ago, I think. Remember, Harry? At the Quidditch World Cup?"

"How could anyone forget? That night was horrible. You see, all the death eaters have a tattoo of the dark mark on their forearm. When they had me captive the night that Cedric died, Peter Pettigrew--" (Ron reddened at the very mention of that name) "--called all the death eaters together--it causes the dark mark to burn on their arms. It´s a summon, you could say."

"They also set off the very thing you saw last night, that huge dark mark, whenever they pull off one of their little shows," said Ron. "Last time we all saw it was at the Quidditch World Cup like Harry said. They´d taken some Muggles captive and... well, it was just terrible."

"So. . ." Dudley started slowly, "these death eaters, which is what Sophie's aunt was, set off this dark mark to show that they are the ones responsible for their crimes?"

"Yes. It's as though they're proud of it."

"If they're so proud, then why don't they show their faces instead of running away? A lot of stupid bloody cowards if you ask me."

"Precisely."

The boys went down to the seaside early in the afternoon, the water cold but still inviting. Harry didn't feel much like swimming. Dudley and Ron splashed about wildly in the mild surf, but Harry remained seated on the warm white sand, drinking in the sun that beat down on him. It felt marvelous, that sun, and should have been the boost he needed to sweep him out of his melancholy. But it wasn't enough; he was still much too consumed with what had happened the night before. He wouldn´t dare admit it to Ron, but . . . he felt guilty about it. What if the death eaters had attacked because they knew he was at Heatherwood High? Had his mere presence contributed to that horrible tragedy? Ron would scold him for thinking such a way, but . . . Harry knew the idea wasn´t ridiculous. It was perfectly possible. Everything was possible those days.

Harry sighed and sat upright, pulling his knees into his chest. He was angry. So angry that he wasn't able to enjoy this much-needed holiday. He wanted to be carefree and swim about contentedly like Ron and Dudley, but he couldn't. And it was because of Voldemort. It was always because of Voldemort. The man had seen to it that Harry's life be as torpid as possible and he was successful in ways he wasn't even aware of. Even now, he was able to keep Harry from having an entirely normal holiday, just as he had thus far kept Harry from living an entirely normal life. It was a terrifying reality that was only just beginning to dawn on Harry. As long as Voldemort was alive and in power, Harry was, in a way, shackled. His was a life not to be lived freely--it was dictated to him by Voldemort.

"Come on Harry! Get off your bum and have a swim!"

Ron and Dudley were both standing above him, dripping wet.

"No Dudley, really, I'm not in the mood today."

The two boys exchanged winks. "Then you leave us no choice, cousin."

Harry started to get up to run, but wasn't quick enough. Ron grabbed him around the chest and Dudley had his legs tightly.

"Boys! Cut it out!" Harry couldn't feign annoyance: he fell into laughter as the two carried him towards the surf.

"Ready?" said Ron, "On the count of three! One--"

"Stop!" Harry pleaded, laughing, as they swung him.

"Two--"

"I mean it!"

"--Three!"

Harry felt them let go of him and he went soaring into the air. Then his stomach plummeted sharply and he crashed into the freezing ocean water. He swam up to the surface and found Ron and Dudley splashing towards him. He responded with a huge splash in their faces and they retaliated every bit as forcefully.

They laughed for the rest of the afternoon. When they arrived back at the Inn, Molly smiled upon sight of them-- the first smile she'd made all day. Arthur still wasn't back from the ministry and she looked genuinely relieved to see them.

"Oh dear, Ron. You've been baked again. You forgot your sun charms, didn't you!"

Harry took a good look at Ron and started laughing. How could he have not noticed it? Ron was beet red! The sun had bleached some of the color in his eyebrows and the edge of his hair! Dudley was rather pink as well, though not nearly to the degree that Ron was. Harry quickly stole a glance in the mirror, a bit scared to what he'd find:

"You bastard," Ron was telling him. "Can't believe you didn't burn!"

Harry's normal pallor was no more: his skin was tanned, and although his electric green eyes were at their usual brightness, Harry admitted to himself that he rather liked the way they looked with a bit of color to his skin. They weren't as unsettling as Harry thought them to be, in-fact, they actually complimented him. Well, whatever that meant. Harry still considered himself to be an odd-looking bloke, and never once thought of himself to be "good-looking". Then again, Harry Potter always had always been rather frustratingly humble.

At first glance, Harry was not the sort of fellow whom one would pick out from across a crowded room. He was smaller than most boys his age, in height and stature (although years of playing Quidditch had made some . . . improvements, shall we say). But at second glance? Well, if someone's eyes should fall upon him, they weren't easily swayed. With Harry, there was so much to look at and awe over-- his wild black hair, his unusually bright green eyes, his contagious smile and, of course, that scar. (There was always that scar.) Harry was used to being stared at, but now the stares weren´t so much of a star-struck nature than they were of an awe-struck nature!

But of course Harry, in his innocence, wasn't aware of any of this.

Arthur returned home from the Ministry late that evening looking worn and drawn, but still ready with his hopeful smile--it was his trademark, that smile. (It sometimes seemed to Harry that, as long as Arthur Weasley held a smile, there was hope left in the world.) But his eyes, however, were another story. They betrayed the fact that he was every bit as uncertain about what the tragedy had meant as everyone else.

"They asked me, Harry, if they thought it would be . . . necessary for an Auror to perhaps accompany us for the remainder of our holiday."

Harry nearly choked on the sweets he was chewing on. Everyone in the room stared at Arthur, mouths opened.

Dudley finally broke the silence, "W-what´s an Auror?"

Mr. Weasley sighed. "An Auror is a wizard trained to hunt and capture dark wizards. They serve as protectors to the wizarding community. . ." he paused. "The decision is yours, Harry. I gave them my opinion. I do not consider one necessary--after all, I am a Ministry wizard. Besides, seeing Harry Potter being shadowed by an Auror might rattle more nerves than need be."

Dudley raised his brow. "Oh? Why is that?"

Harry studied Mr. Weasley intently, somewhat scared of the answer.

"Well Dudley . . . most people in our world rather . . . look up to your cousin. To see an Auror with the Dark Lord´s defeator might scare a lot of people--panic them unnecessarily. And if there´s one thing the Ministry doesn´t want, it´s panic."

"It is unnecessary," said Harry briskly, staring down at the carpet. "There´s no reason for it. Tell them not to worry about it."

"Well," said Molly timidly, "I´m sure that the Ministry´s reasoning is that since you are so high profile, you´d be an easy tar--"

"Molly," Arthur snapped. Ron was scowling at her and she held her tongue immediately, but not before Harry blanched at what she´d almost said. Arthur turned his warming smile to Harry once again and he reached forward to squeeze his shoulder supportively. "Not to worry, Harry. The Ministry is right on top of things-- we have the matter firmly under control." (Harry wagered that Fudge had probably asked Arthur to tell him that. Such a presumptuous, premature statement sounded like something Fudge would say.)

It was a relaxing week, without a doubt, but Harry couldn't help but admit that everyone felt a bit eager to get back. It would have been nice if Harry and Dudley didn't have to go back to Privet drive, because neither of them were looking forward to dealing with Vernon and Petunia's scowling faces. The drive back home seemed incredibly faster than the drive up (as it always does when one is dreading their destination) and soon they were back amongst the cookie-cutter homes that made up Little Whinging.

They thanked the Weasleys over and over again, and tried to assure Arthur that despite what happened the first evening, they really did have a wonderful time. Arthur pressed Dudley to come inside to chat with his parents, but Dudley was adamantly against it.

"I like you a lot, Mr. Weasley, and I just don't want to see you wrung by the neck, which is exactly what will happen if you walk through those doors."

Harry nodded. "And that's assuming Uncle Vernon is in a good mood."

So instead they all exchanged hugs, which eventually left Harry and Dudley standing on the pavement waving as their car rattled off down the road. Dudley turned to Harry. "Well? Ready to face the Lion's den?"

The stepped cautiously inside the front door and found Vernon and Petunia in their usual places in the living room: Vernon behind the Daily Mail and Petunia deep into knitting. Their eyes followed Dudley and Harry as they walked inside, but not a word was said.

"Hello all," said Dudley cheerfully. "Glad to see you again! Mum, Ireland was beautiful. I bought some souvenirs for you that I know you'll love. Dad, you should have seen that countryside--"

"I do not want to hear anything about the past week, Dudley Vernon Dursley. I am going to pretend that it never happened, as is your mother. So you can just keep whatever freaky little gift you've picked up for her."

Dudley pulled out a small velvet box from his pocket. "Really?" He opened it up to reveal a lovely blue ring he'd bought at one of the Muggle shops outside Heatherwood Hollow. "Ah, well, if you say so. Reckon Sophie can find some use for it, then."

"There are letters for you on the table," said Petunia bitterly, not looking up from her knitting.

Dudley bent down and picked up two white envelopes from the end table: one addressed to Dudley, and the other to Harry--both from Sophie Banbury. The sight of her name on the envelope made Harry's hand tremble somewhat, but he quickly composed himself and opened the letter. Dudley was reciting exactly what Harry was reading which meant they had both been sent the same thing: an invitation!

Mr. Harry James Potter
Your are Invited to
A Birthday Bash
in honor of Mr. Dudley Dursley
and Mr. Harry Potter's 16th Birthdays
to be held on Saturday, 15 July
at 6:00 pm
20 Almond Grove, Shepherds Bush London
W12 OTG

Dudley and Harry beamed at each other. Dudley was bright red-- so overcome with excitement that he could hardly speak.

"I can't believe it! Harry! Call! Tell her-- ask her-- oh, just ring her up, all right?"

Harry raised his brow as Dudley pushed him towards the phone in the dining room. "Go on, call her!"

"What about--"

"Tell her we're going!"

"Of course we're going, Dudley. It's our birthday party!"

"I know, but-- well, tell her that we got the invitation!"

Harry laughed. "Dudley, if you're so eager to speak with her, why don't you call her?"

"No! Can't do that! Can't do that because . . .well, she'll know that I like her."

"You're just calling to say hello. No harm in that--"

"Yes, yes, but I'd feel better if you do it! She knows you don't like her, so it's okay!"

A sickness swept over Harry. He stared at his cousin's eager eyes and couldn't speak for a very long time, his words playing over in his head: "she knows you don't like her. . .'

Harry was brought back to earlier in the year on that melancholy day when Sophie and her father were moving away. Dudley hadn't been around-- in fact, no one had been around, so no one knew what had happened. It had just been him and Sophie alone . . . and that sweet kiss they'd shared. Sophie had told him that she was falling for him, and the undeniable force within him that confirmed he felt the same about her every bit as much now as he did at that moment.

But Dudley. . . his cousin whom he'd grown to actually care for within the past year. . . he loved Sophie. How could Harry possibly tell him the truth?

You have to, Harry. This is something you must get out in the open.

"Dudley," said Harry slowly, "Listen--"

"Oh, just call her!" Dudley forced the receiver into Harry's hand and dialed the number for him.

Harry cleared his voice and waited as the phone rang.

"Hello?"

Harry knew that voice anywhere. His stomach was churning from nervousness and he mustered every ounce of self-control in his body to sound calm in front of Dudley.

"S-Sophie? Hi, it's Harry."

There silence lasted half a second longer than Harry would have liked. Finally her enthused voice came over the receiver.

"Harry! Sorry, you shocked me! You were the last person I expected to find on the phone! How are you?"

"All right. You?"

"All right, you know. Not too bad."

"Having a good summer?" Harry kicked himself for relapsing into such shallow conversation.

"Yeah, I guess. Er. . . visited Grandmum and Grandad a couple weeks ago, over in Hastings. That was nice of course."

"Er. . . Dudley and I just got back from holiday as well. We went with the Weasleys to Ireland."

"Ireland? Oh how lovely-- whereabouts?"

"A-actually, we were in Heatherwood Hollow--"

"Heatherwood Hollow? Oh Harry! Tell me you weren't there the night they killed Mildred Reafsnyder, were you?"

"Yes, we were. We were actually on the High street when it happened."

"Harry!"

"It was horrible. We saw her lying there, oh Sophie, it was awful."

"We read all about it in the Prophet! I'm just glad that you're all right."

"Of course," said Harry, smiling. It made him feel lighter than air to know she was so concerned about him. "And we came home to find another treat! You don't have to throw us a party, Sophie."

"Nonsense! I told you that I would! What kind of friend would I have been if I hadn't? It's not like the Dursleys are going to throw you one. I don't even know if they're going to throw one for Dudley now that he's changed sides."

"Actually, I haven't heard anything about it, come to think of it." He looked at Dudley whose eyes were wide, his hands grasping Harry's sleeve eagerly, wanting to know what was being said. "Dudley's really excited about it." Dudley smiled and motioned for the phone.

Harry handed it over to Dudley. He watched with a smile as Dudley gushed over the phone. "Hi, Sophie? Yeah, it's gonna be wicked! Thanks so much-- what? Oh, yeah, well I'm not bothered if they don't. Your parties are brilliant, so I'd rather go to yours any day! You've been all right? Yeah? Really? Oh, that's good to hear. . ."

Dudley was twiddling the cord with his finger, and kept shifting from one foot to the other nervously. "Oh, did I tell you? We've got a dog! Yeah! A Scottish terrier, actually. You like those? Really? I didn't know that--"

Harry coughed loudly.

"-- oh I know, aren't they? "Eddie." Yeah, after my favorite Comedian-- oh you too? Yeah, he's brilliant. I know, I know. What? Sure, I'll tell him. Right then, see you soon, Sophie! Cheers!"

Harry reached for the phone back, but much to his disappointment, Dudley hung it up. "She had to go-- her Dad kept callin' her. Said to tell you 'bye' and that she can't wait to see us at the party."

Dudley took a deep breath. "God, Harry. . . hearing her voice again. . . it was like a rush, you know?"

Harry ached inside, because he understood perfectly how Dudley felt.

"You know what cousin?" Dudley folded his arms and lowered his voice to speak candidly with Harry only. "I honestly feel. . . like a different person now. I mean, last year Sophie told me that she wasn't interested in a relationship with me or anyone else, and I really have been happy with being . . . lucky enough to have her as a friend. But. . . hell, I dunno Harry. . . lately I've been feeling like I'm willing to bring it up again, you know? I mean, even she has mentioned how she's noticed my change and how she likes the person I've turned into. I told you about that, right? She said she liked the person I've turned into! I'm thinking. . ." his voice was wrought with excitement and it made him tremble slightly, "I'm thinking . . . I might actually have a chance."

Harry stared into his cousin's hopeful, bright blue eyes. Never in his entire life had Harry ever heard Dudley so earnest about anything. But. . . oh why was it that Dudley should share his exact same sentiments about the same girl?

He was overcome with guilt.

Guilt? But why, Harry? You haven't done anything wrong! You can't help the way you feel and you certainly can't help the way that Sophie feels . . .

That was true, but looking at his cousin, he felt like an absolute criminal for even having such feelings in the first place. . .

Harry, stop it! You're beating yourself up over something you have no control over. . .

Maybe he could talk to Sophie and explain the situation with Dudley. Maybe. . . maybe Dudley really was the guy for her . . .

Harry! You're the one who's in love with Sophie! You're the one who thinks about her every waking hour-- even when you're asleep she still finds her way into your head! You're the one who has felt like a fraction of the person he was since she left! You're the one--

But Dudley! He felt the same way!

"Harry?"

Harry snapped out of it and looked at his cousin again. "Er. . ."

Dudley laughed. "You silly bastard. I ask you if you want to go out and help me look for a new shirt for the party and you have to think about it? You must be tired if you can't decide if you want to get out of this god damned house!" He put his arm around Harry and the two made a start for the staircase. "That's all right. We'll go looking tomorrow, then."

* * *