Harry Potter and the Book of Magical Maladies

Harry Potter and the Book of Magical Maladies

CHAPTER 6 - A Captive Audience

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Harry was glad to be woken up by the sound of Hedwig at the window. He'd just been drifting off when he'd heard the insistent tapping that told him he'd gotten his responses. He opened the window quickly, then shut it and pulled the curtains. Hedwig had brought two rolls of parchment as he'd expected, one noticeably longer than the first.

He knew immediately which one he was more interested in, but opted to read the smaller roll instead. He ignored the tightening of his stomach at seeing Hermione's name at the end of the note. The length of Ginny's note alone attested to the lack of sharing in Hermione's note.

Harry tossed the shorter letter on his desk. It had been every bit as devoid of information as he'd expected from anyone else. He tried to restrain his disgust with Hermione until he'd read what Ginny had to say.

Pacing back and forth across his room, Harry read the longer message. Hermione had simply done what she had been told to do. It still annoyed him that she didn't even try to help him out, but that wasn't important at the moment. Harry read quickly through the rest of the scribbled explanation Ginny had sent him.

When he'd finished the letter he collapsed onto his bed. He hadn't expected everything to have already been worked out, but he'd hoped they'd have gotten farther than they had. Over sixty families left, he thought. They couldn't all have daughters who were clerks in London, could they? There was still time. They had over two whole days to track down the right family.

Harry got up and read the messages again, looking for something completely different. When he'd sent his warning, he hadn't thought it would be difficult to figure out who was going to be attacked. His parents had known, so he'd assumed that had been the way the attacks would work. But as he read through Ginny's message he recognized something unusual. She'd been there, watching them work, and she was discouraged. Even more telling was the encouraging tone of Hermione's message and the knowledge that she'd been told what to write to him.

Harry crumpled both pieces of parchment in one hand and pulled out his wand.

"Immolus!" The ball of parchment erupted into bright orange flame and burned to ash before reaching the floor.

They didn't have any idea who the family was, and it didn't sound like they were making much progress. It must not be anyone in the Order, Harry decided. Who else would Voldemort target? Harry paced about his room hoping to think of some answer no one else had considered. Late into the night, he finally gave up and fell into a restless sleep.

When he awoke the next day, it was already late-morning, and Hedwig was restless in her cage. She must have sensed that something important was happening. Harry ignored his stomach and sat down at his desk. He wrote a quick note, suggesting a few of the less worthless ideas he'd come up with the previous night.

He'd sent Hedwig off with the note, not really thinking the Order needed the suggestions as much as he wanted an excuse for Hedwig to be at Grimmauld Place so Ginny could send back whatever news she could find.

The day passed slowly, and Harry had only a small lunch and enough food that evening to keep his stomach quiet. He tried to keep to his room as much as possible, constantly hoping that he'd see Hedwig flying towards him with news that they'd found and hidden the family.

Late that night, Hedwig returned bearing only a short message from Ginny. They hadn't discovered who the target was, and there were just over forty families left to check. They had convinced the Ministry to help, so at least there were more wizards available to help in the search.

Harry got another restless night of sleep, and spent the next morning avoiding the Dursleys. He'd heard Vernon complaining the day before about him trying to sneak out of doing chores. He'd sent off another note with Hedwig, simply asking for any news this time. He wasted as much time as he could before he walked down the stairs to find something to eat.

"Where were you hiding last night?" Harry's uncle asked as he saw Harry walk into the kitchen. Apparently he hadn't wasted enough time; Vernon still hadn't left. Harry tried to act like it was just a simple question as he found some of leftover bread and ham which might pass for a sandwich.

"In my room," he answered casually. "I've been feeling a bit off, lately."

"Not enough to stop you from eating our food, I see," Vernon replied. "And just enough to not do chores, I'll wager." Harry sat down ignoring the comment, as well as the toughness of his sandwich.

"He doesn't look too ill to finish pulling the weeds from the flower beds," Petunia suggested.

"Quite right," Vernon barked in delight. "Perhaps the fresh air will do the boy good. Dudley needs a haircut." He turned to Harry and shook his stubby finger at him. "You will finish the job you started, and if you use any of your... your... If anything funny happens, you'll be lucky to see the sun again."

After the Dursleys left, Harry reluctantly returned to the flower beds to finish pulling the remaining weeds. He could have worked faster, but he couldn't help but scan the horizon for Hedwig's return. He wasn't terribly worried about not finishing before Dudley returned.

The last time Harry had seen Dudley get his hair cut, Petunia had fussed over the smallest imperfection, stretching a simple haircut to well over an hour. The hairdresser had nearly fainted when she saw Harry's hair, and was quite relieved to hear that Harry wasn't getting his hair cut that day. He was quite certain that they wouldn't be back for some time.

He was right, and when he finished with the flower bed, he retreated to his room after raiding the kitchen for enough food for a small dinner. Hedwig still hadn't returned, so he spent his time practicing Occlumency and trying to simply will time to move faster.

Late that night, after and a cold but almost satisfying dinner, Hedwig returned bearing a single small scrap of cardboard. Harry had his Obscuring Orb ready, and a moment later he was pleased when the scrap grew and transformed into a short note. The handwriting, however, was not the flowing yet hurried loops of Ginny's handwriting, but a more refined script.

Harry felt his heart racing. It was from Lupin. He quickly read through the note, hoping that Ginny hadn't been caught spying for him. He finally reached the end of the message and gave a relieved sigh. Ginny had apparently not gotten a chance to send anything back. It didn't matter. Lupin said enough for Harry to figure out what was going on.

They were going to be watching the Leaky Cauldron. Bellatrix Lestrange had said that they were expecting them to Floo from there, so they would just have to watch everyone who used the Floo and follow them if they fit the pattern. It seemed like a decent plan to Harry, but the meaning was quite clear to him.

They still didn't know who Voldemort was planning to attack. Watching the pub was the only thing they really had to point them to the real target.

They don't know who it is.

The words echoed in his head. He could imagine just how Voldemort would laugh if he knew the situation they were in. He'd given them the day of the attack and a description of his victims, and all they could do was sit around waiting for them to fall into Voldemort's trap and hoping that they would be able to save them.

There was also a request in Lupin's note. He wanted Harry to keep Hedwig with him the next day. If anything happened, if he saw or dreamed anything, he was to send Hedwig off to Lupin immediately.

Harry slept lightly and uneasily that night. He wanted to send Hedwig back to Grimmauld Place and hear what Ginny might say. He needed to know anything that Lupin wasn't telling him. Yet, he knew that Lupin was right. If he saw something, the Order would need to know it immediately.

He woke up the next day well before the sun rose. As he watched it peek over the rooftops of Little Whinging, he tried to think of what it was like at Twelve Grimmauld Place. Were they working furiously at trying to find a way to prevent the attack, or had they given up, putting all their hopes on watching the Leaky Cauldron?

Somewhere else, Voldemort was sitting in his dark hideout, preparing to attack an innocent family. The thought made Harry feel ill. Was this what it was like then his parents had been attacked? Had the Order done anything to protect them?

Harry skipped lunch altogether. He spent the day pacing and pretending to read books which he which he couldn't concentrate on. There must have already been an Order member at the Leaky Cauldron. The attack might be coming at any minute, or it might have already happened. Surely they would tell him if it had. They wouldn't keep that from him. Harry found his uncertainty depressing. He wished he didn't have to ask such things of his friends.

Ginny would tell him. She'd find a way. He didn't know why he was so certain, but he was. Knowing that, however, only made things worse. Someone would have told him if it already happened, so he had to assume it was still going to happen. He forced himself to join the Dursley's for dinner, but he ate quickly and returned to his room immediately.

The sun went down, and there was still no news. He'd assumed that the attack would happen at night, just like every other one he'd heard of. Still, he'd hoped that there would have been some message from the Order telling him what to expect. He couldn't stand the waiting any longer. He could feel the fear and anger and anxiety building in him.

He sat calmly on his bed and tried to empty his mind of emotion. He tried to forget everything and focus on simply relaxing and waiting for the night to pass, but he simply couldn't. His eyes kept glancing at the clock, watching the hours pass. His mind kept imagining Voldemort and a group of Death Eaters standing behind bushes, or a row of trees, waiting to attack some unknowing family.

Making things even more difficult was the fact that Harry hadn't slept well in days, and he'd slept better than he'd eaten. As midnight passed, he felt his eyelids getting heavier. There still hadn't been any news from the Order, and the attack must be happening soon. He didn't want to sleep. He didn't want to have to spend a night dreaming of all the horrible things that might be happening while he lay safe in his room in Little Whinging.

It got later and later, until Harry was forced to lay down to relieve the aching in his back and legs. He fought off sleep for as long as he could, but he was more exhausted than he had realized, and his body simply wouldn't listen to his desire to stay awake. He felt his eyelids flutter, and tried to reassure himself that any owl the Order sent would wake him. They would make sure that he knew. Ginny would make sure.

He turned to stare through his window into the starry sky. No nightmares tonight, he pleaded silently.

Harry's world dissolved to darkness, but instead of the peace and restfulness of sleep, he felt a strong pulling. It felt as if something had grabbed his shoulders and was slowly dragging him away from his bed. Harry tried to fight it. He tried to stop it or block it out, but it was pointless. He found himself standing on the edge of a small clearing surrounded by tall trees near a well-traveled road. There was a small two level cottage in front of him. A light was on near the front door.

"He's here," a high pitch voice hissed behind him.

He turned quickly to see where the voice had come from. Fear lanced through his chest as he saw Lord Voldemort standing in front of him, flanked by at least eight Death Eaters. Harry tried to run, but he couldn't. He tried to find his wand, but he felt weak and immobilized, as if he were paralyzed yet still able to stand.

The Death Eaters walked forward at a brisk pace, passing by him, and even through him. Voldemort followed them, passing right by him. It's just a dream, he reminded himself. Voldemort can't hurt me here. His fear was renewed when he felt himself being pulled toward the cottage along with Voldemort.

He tried fighting. He tried to turn away or simply stop. The force pulling him felt both gentle and irresistible, as if he didn't have any control over where he walked. The world was dim and cloudy, but he was almost certain that he couldn't even see himself.

He told himself that it was just a dream. He could block it like anything else. He forced his eyes closed and pushed all thoughts from his mind, focusing only on breaking whatever connection had opened to allow this. He needed to wake up and let the Order know what was happening. When he opened his eyes, he was dismayed to see the world around him even clearer and more real than before. He was quite close to the house, now, and he doubted resisting the vision would do any more than alert Voldemort to his presence.

He didn't know if Voldemort knew he was there. Perhaps he would be able to get some information that would help the Ministry and the Order find him. He followed Voldemort into the cottage where the Death Eaters had already restrained a man. He had dark hair worn the same way his godfather had. In fact, Harry noticed, he looked much like Sirius had, except without the haunted look he'd had from too many years spent in the company of Dementors.

He looked past Harry to Voldemort. His eyes opened wide and his mouth gaped open. "No. It's you. It can't be you..."

Voldemort was not paying attention to him. Instead he was inspecting the walls. "You were raised as a Muggle, so perhaps you never developed the proper respect."

A Death Eater walked into the room. He bowed his head quickly toward Voldemort. "There were two upstairs, Master. The wife and daughter. They've been tied."

Voldemort began looking about the room again. Harry realized he was searching for something. "You must be taught the price for interfering with the Lord Voldemort."

"Interfering?" the man exclaimed. "I've done nothing. I didn't even believe them when they said--"

"There was a time when Dumbledore could protect you--"

"Dumbledore?" the man asked. "I haven't talked to him in years! Nothing ever happened! He-- He wouldn't let me-- He made me promise not to--"

"Even his powers cannot protect you. Not here. Not from... this," Voldemort explained with an evil smile.

"I haven't done anything!" the man pleaded. "I stayed out of it. I just raised my family."

Harry noticed that this finally made Voldemort react. Voldemort glanced at the man, and then at a family picture over the fireplace. "Family," he sneered, as he grabbed the picture. "They are the only reason why you still breathe." He held the picture out for the man to see.

"Incendio!".

The picture he was holding in his hand erupted in a flash of white-hot flame. The photo and frame were quickly consumed, leaving only a puff of ash. The mans face became ghostly pale. Voldemort began summoning all the photos in the room, and with each photo he destroyed the man got more and more frightened.

"Please, I haven't done anything. My family hasn't done anything. We're innocent, I swear!" he begged as Voldemort held the last picture. Harry could see it was a picture of a girl about his age, waving. It must have been the man's daughter.

Voldemort just held the picture. Harry was surprised. He stopped. He wasn't burning it.

"Master," a voice called from the doorway, "we haven't found anyone nearby."

"Very well. It won't be much longer." Voldemort looked back at the man, and held the photo in front of him. "Innocence is nothing more than taking pride in being weak." The bottom of the frame blackened where he was holding it. Soon small flames were licking at the photo charring it. Voldemort turned back to the Death Eater at the stairs. "It's time. He's not cooperating."

"No! They've done nothing!" the man screamed. His gaze was locked on the burning picture. "I'll tell you everything I know! I do whatever you want me to do! Anything!"

It was too late. Harry could already hear the screams coming from the second level. He was numb with anger, fear, disgust and sadness.

"You?" Voldemort laughed. "You? What could you possibly do that would hold any value to me?"

"I don't know!" he pleaded. "I'll do anything! Anything you want..."

Voldemort leveled his wand at the man's chest. "Then die, cursing the name 'Harry Potter'." He turned to the lone Death Eater at the stairs. "Kill them both. We're done here."

The Death Eater climbed the stairs, and a moment later, Harry could hear screaming. Everyone was screaming. The wizard whimpered and begged Voldemort to stop until he was silenced by a flash of green light. At the same time, a splitting pain shot through Harry's scar, and he was plunged into darkness. When his vision returned, he sat up and realized that he wasn't dreaming anymore. It was still the middle of the night, and he was still in Little Whinging.

He looked out his window to the deserted Privet Drive. Somewhere a family had just been attacked. He knew it. It wasn't a dream and it wasn't a trick. Voldemort was out there. He wasn't waiting any more. Harry wondered if this is what it was like when it started the first time.

He had to get up. He had letters to send. He even got so far as sitting at his desk. But his hand wasn't working as it should. He felt exhausted and weak. In a haze, he stumbled back to his bed and collapsed. No letters would save them. The Order would know before Hedwig got there, anyway. He could write later.

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When the morning sun crept across the horizon, it found Harry at his desk, writing purposefully. Hedwig was out of her cage and waiting patiently.

The first letter Harry wrote was to Remus Lupin.

Remus,

Whatever the Order was doing, it wasn't enough. A family was attacked last night. I think they are all dead.

I saw it. I was asleep and I saw it all. It wasn't like the dream with Nagini and Arthur. I couldn't stop it. I don't know who they were. The Ministry will probably know more than I do. Make sure they don't try and hide it.

Harry

He folded the note, and Obscured it. It became a card with flowery lettering saying "Sorry". Harry winced at the appropriateness. Then he started another letter.

Ginny,

There was another vision. Voldemort attacked a family. I watched as he made a man beg for the lives of his family. I don't know how to fight him. I don't think it's possible. I tried to fight it, but nothing worked. I think it actually made the vision stronger.

He didn't ask for anything. He didn't take anything. He just tortured and punished them for something they didn't even know about. I think the man did something that hurt or angered Voldemort, but he didn't seem to know what it was.

Voldemort destroyed all the photos in the room. He burned them to ashes in front of the man. He said that the man's family was the only reason he was still alive. Then he tortured and killed them while he begged for their lives.

Voldemort killed him, I'm sure, but I don't think he wanted to. He wanted him to suffer. I could feel it, and I think he knew it. I think he wanted me to see it.

I only hope the Ministry doesn't try to hide this. I've sent a note to Lupin. I'm sure he already knows more about this than I do.

Harry

Hedwig left with the letters soon after that. Harry was left to watch the sun rise again over Little Whinging. His head throbbed, his eyes were dry and his muscles were weak with exhaustion. He needed to sleep but he could not get the images from the previous night out of his head.

He tried to lay down and at least get comfortable, but soon he drifted off to troubled sleep, haunted by thoughts of the pictures of his parents burning, and the dying curse of the man in his vision.