Harry Potter and the Orb of Power

Chapter 24: The Memories from Nowhere

    The days following the eventful night between Hermione, Harry, and Ron were excruciating to Harry. The silence between the three was unbearable, and yet so much was said in the silence. Harry was starting to realize that, just as he thought in the beginning of all of this drama, that a little time away might be good for Hermione and Ron. What he hadn’t figured out, of course, was where to go with his feelings for Hermione. Harry, as he headed to the Great Hall for breakfast, knew he was at a crossroads in terms of his feelings for Hermione. He could drop them all at once and let Ron and Hermione work themselves out, or he could tell Hermione that he liked her. Harry knew the first would be easier; he would rather have flown against twelve Hungarian Horntails than tell Hermione he had feelings for her. And at the same time, Harry had a feeling that he wanted something to happen between the two of them, and with that feeling came the sickening swoop of guilt on how Ron would feel if Harry had done that. Thinking about the present condition of them all made Harry dizzy, and threw him off what he should be thinking about: the Orb of Power.

    Caught up in the recent spout of relationship problems, Harry had quite forgotten about the Orb, Malagar, and Voldemort’s ultimate plans for it. He was still no closer to knowing the overall scheme of things, and it made Harry nervous to know that he was completely in the dark. Generally, Harry discovered along the way various bits of information that eventually helped he, Ron, and Hermione figure out the truth, but this year was definitely the exception. They had exhausted all of their resources; there were no more books in the library, none of the students had an inkling as to what the Orb of Power was, and Hagrid, who usually let slip important pieces of information, was uncharacteristically tight-lipped about the whole deal. In fact, Hagrid was so nervous that he would accidentally spill the beans that he told Harry not to visit him, in case he had too much to drink and let out all of the details.

    Harry also was no further in discovering the details of the mysterious Order that Dumbledore was a part of. After their enigmatic mission to Azkaban, Harry had heard very little of it. It was in none of the books, and Harry had a feeling that none of the teachers would appreciate Harry going around asking if they were in an Order. As Harry entered the Great Hall, he felt more and more frustrated with the overall sequence of events, and wished that something would happen to help him figure things out.

    Harry sat down at the Gryffindor Table and helped himself to some scrambled eggs and some slices of bacon. Ron sat with Fred and George, while Hermione was talking to Ginny about something that Harry realized was of a feminine nature. Harry ate quietly, not talking to anyone, until he realized that Neville was sitting by himself. Harry picked up his food and decided to sit next to him, hoping to find out some details on his upcoming trip to St. Mungo’s.

    “Hey Neville,” Harry said cheerily, sitting down next to Neville.

    “Hi,” Neville mumbled, taking a big sip of orange juice and then filling his mouth with a piece of toast. Harry felt a pang of guilt. He should have known that Neville had wanted a bit more space to himself, that’s obviously why he had chosen to sit alone.

    “I was um...just wondering...how long are we going to stay at St. Mungo’s, so I know how to pack,” Harry said slowly, but keeping a cheerful tone of voice, so as to not imply that going to St. Mungo’s was a burden.

    “Oh, um, well, I guess a couple of days, then we’re going to return to Hogwarts. You can stay for less, if it’s a problem,” Neville added hastily.

    “Not at all. Ginny and I are more than happy to help you out,” Harry said brightly. “By the way, you did pretty well during the Quidditch tryouts.”

    “No I didn’t. I couldn’t keep to save my life. Gran’s always telling me that I won’t be able to make the Gryffindor team,” Neville said glumly. “I don’t even know why I tried out.”

    “Neville, don’t be thick. When you got off of that broom you were all grins,” Harry insisted. “You know you were good. You handled the Quaffle well and you dodged the Bludgers all right. Maybe Keeping’s not a good match for you. Next year Angelina and Alicia won’t be there, so we’ll be needing two Chasers. Try-out then, I’m sure you’d be even better after some practice.”

    “You think so?” Neville asked. “Ginny tells me that she’s going to try out for Chaser too. She’d definitely get in, but I don’t know about me. She’s always telling me to try out and that I’m good enough for it, but I don’t think so,” Neville said conversationally. Harry stole a quick glance at Ginny. Harry admired Ginny; she managed to bolster Neville’s confidence and made an effort to make Neville feel better about himself. Harry looked at Neville, who too was looking at Ginny.

    “She’s a good friend, you know,” Harry said. Neville nodded enthusiastically. “But she’s not just saying that to make you feel better. She’s telling the truth.” Neville blushed, but his eyes never turned from Ginny, who was whispering something to Hermione. Hermione looked up and made brief eye contact with Harry. Harry thought he saw Hermione’s eyes flash when she saw him, but when he blinked and looked again, she was looking elsewhere.

*****

    “The Christmas holidays are approaching,” Mrs. Figg was telling the class later that day. “But that does not mean that we will halt our studies in defensive magic. On the contrary, I want you to practice as much as possible in order to make sure I have beaten into your thick skulls the fine nuances of defensive magic. Next term, we will be abandoning the offensive and defensive spell work for more of an in depth study of Dark Magic and the way it works.” Mrs. Figg stood imperiously in front of the class, who was paying rapt attention. Harry felt his spirit sag a bit. He couldn’t honestly say he was looking forward to a Defense Against the Dark Arts class that didn’t involve spell work. He looked over at Ron, who was rolling his eyes, seemingly thinking the same as Harry. He turned to look back at Mrs. Figg, who was waving her wand, and writing something on the board.

    “Before we change focus points, I do want to cover magical methods of concealment. These will help you in case you ever need to hide from an opponent that is more than a match for you.” Mrs. Figg’s eyes glared meaningfully at Harry, who felt that if it could, her gaze would melt him in his seat. “And judging by your still feeble knowledge of magic, you’ll all need to use them.” Mrs. Figg sighed, as if all of this class was pointless, and then waved her wand.

    “Abscondo!” Mrs. Figg said. Harry gazed ahead, and saw that she was becoming darker and darker, her blue robes now looking jet black, and her skin murky with shadow. She was barely visible, as she looked like a figure made of a wisp of smoke. “Patesca!” She cried, and then faded back into sight. “Now, I daresay that one of you should have the knowledge to tell me what this was?” Hermione’s hand shot up. Mrs. Figg rolled her eyes, and nodded.

    “The Shadow Jinx,” Hermione said promptly.

    “Yes, correct. I’m very happy that one of you knew about this jinx, but as Miss Granger has showed yet again, brains are rare and elusive.” Hermione blushed as Ron (and most of the rest of the class, Harry noticed) scowled. “The Shadow Jinx is very, very complex and indeed very dangerous. The jinx turns you into a wisp of shadow, so in the dark, the wizard or witch is near invisible. Also, the wizard or witch that performs this spell, while under its effects, are impervious to magical damage. However, the dangerous part about this spell is that you are transported into the realm of shadow, where different rules apply.” Mrs. Figg’s piercing blue eyes widened as she spoke and looked quite uncomfortable. Harry figured it was a remaining effect of the spell, but couldn’t help but be troubled with the way she was acting. She cleared her throat. “Therefore, those that choose the Shadow Jinx must be warned to not stay in that state for long, as serious side effects may occur.” Mrs. Figg shot warning looks to the rest of the class, instantly disarming any questions on the side effects. “The other spell is just as effective and less dangerous, which is why I hope that you will all use this spell if the need arises. “Defluam!” Mrs. Figg cried, and tapped herself on the head with her wand. She suddenly blended in with her surroundings. Harry had to squint his eyes to make out her outline, but then she vanished entirely.

    “The Disillusionment Charm,” Hermione muttered under her breath, in awe of her teacher.

    “Patesca!” Mrs. Figg said again, and she popped back into view. “The Disillusionment Charm allows you to blend in with your surroundings. Very good for hiding. However, if one moves, and if one does not perform the charm correctly, you will be just as visible than if you had not performed the charm. Now, divide into groups and practice the spell work, and then for homework, I want you to finish the spell book and write a four foot essay on the benefits of hiding versus dueling and the situations in which each is warranted.” Harry groaned, Mrs. Figg always gave a lot of homework. He paired up with Hermione, and was about to beckon Ron over when he moved to go with Dean and Seamus. He gave Harry an apologetic yet forceful look and then turned to talk to the two of them. Hermione looked as if she was fighting back emotion, and then turned to Harry.

    “Shall we practice?” Hermione asked brightly. “Mrs. Figg is a marvelous teacher, isn’t she?” Harry made an indecisive noise in his throat, and cast a look in her direction. She was walking around the class, instructing students and giving help. Harry saw her characteristic drag in her right leg, and thought back to the Order.    

    “Mrs. Figg’s in the Order, should we ask her about it?” Harry asked suddenly. Hermione shrugged for the moment, and shouted “Defluam!” She faded into view, and disappeared entirely. Harry admired the spell and then saw Hermione become invisible again. Mrs. Figg was about to watch Harry perform the spell when she performed the Shadow Jinx again. She faded from view; Harry cast a nervous look at Hermione. When Mrs. Figg reappeared, she looked very anxious and on edge. Her grey hair, which was usually kept in a severe bun, looked slightly disheveled.

    “She’s going for it soon!” Mrs. Figg muttered under her breath. She paused for a moment, realizing where she was. This is the batty Mrs. Figg I remember, Harry thought, glad to realize that some of the woman he thought he knew was not a lie. “Class, pack up and wait for the bell to ring. I have pressing business to attend to.” And with no further information, she swept out of the class, her limp not hindering her speed.

    “That was odd,” Hermione insisted. Ron, who was not too far away, was listening in, if not participating. “She realized something right after you mentioned the Order.”     

    “Malfoy said the same thing when we overheard him,” Harry said slowly. “Someone’s making a move for the Orb of Power soon!”

    “Malagar, I bet it’s Malagar who’s making the move,” Hermione whispered. Ron leaned closer off of his seat, Harry noticed.

    “Why her? Why not Voldemort?” Harry hissed. Ron fell off of his seat at the mention of Voldemort’s name, and the class erupted in laughter. Ron was glowing scarlet when Hermione, who despite herself, couldn’t help but let out the giggles.

    “Laugh it up,” Ron said, but with a softening edge to his voice. The bell rang, and the class emptied the classroom, leaving Hermione, Ron, and Harry in the room alone. Harry looked at Ron, and realized that Ron had come to his senses about Hermione. “Look, Hermione, I’m -“ But Ron didn’t have a chance to say anything else. Hermione smiled, and with tears in her eyes, she gave Ron a fierce hug. “All right...” Ron muttered, and with a smile, mouthed “Mental” to Harry, who laughed.

    “I’ll leave you two alone to talk,” Harry said with a smile as he left the room. Indeed, Hermione and Ron had lots to talk about before everything was patched up between them. It had ended so quickly, Harry thought with a smile. He wished he realized sooner that all it would take was Ron falling off of his chair for him to realize how stupid he was acting. And yet, to Harry at least, Ron hadn’t been that far off of the mark when he yelled at Harry. Harry did like Hermione, and Ron always was in the dark on how Hermione thought and acted. So what had changed to make Ron talk to Hermione again?

    Maybe he’s looking to get back with Hermione before you make your move, Harry thought to himself. But that sounded awful, and was rather accusatory towards Ron. Ron would never do anything with motives like that. Something had happened, and he would have to have Ron explain everything. For now, however, Harry would let Ron, and his mysterious way of thinking, enjoy his peace with Hermione.

*****

    Harry snuck into the dormitory late that night, thinking of Sirius and where he could be. He had been missing for months now, what could have happened to him? The longer Sirius was gone, the more likely it was that Sirius had been captured in Diagon Alley, and was either being tortured or worse. Harry shook his head, he wouldn’t think about the possibility that Sirius had been killed. Sirius could just be hiding out. Harry sighed and sank into his four-poster bed. Sleep slowly drifted upon him, and the last thing he saw was the familiar pink mist floating up to meet him, and he knew that the somniscribe would record his dream...

    ...Harry found himself in a graveyard, or what seemed to be a graveyard. There were memorials everywhere, names etched in stone. Harry wandered through them, and couldn’t figure out where, or when, he was. As he drifted through, the sky rolled with thunder, and the rain started to fall gently onto Harry. Harry was completely alone, until he saw three figures standing over a rather small memorial. Harry could tell by the robes that they wore that they were wizards, but other than that, he couldn’t decide who they were. One wizard was wearing pure white robes, which looked very weird since he was in a graveyard. One, a witch, was wearing black robes of mourning, her black hair fell past her shoulders. The third was a wizard in grey, with intense looking eyes and a sword sheathed at his side. The three were in the middle of a conversation, deep in thought, and Harry crept over and listened to them.

    “...can’t believe he did this. Even after all of the arguments, I can’t believe he did this,” the white wizard was saying. His voice was deep and commanding, sounding almost like a general. However, his voice was punctuated by disbelief and sorrow.

    “He wanted to stop us before we finished the spell. He was too late of course, the spell is in effect,” the witch said glumly, her voice containing no emotion. She stared at the memorial.

    “Now it’s not your fault,” the grey wizard spoke, placing a hand on the witch’s shoulder. “You were trying to do right.”

    “I should have chosen a side,” the witch bellowed, making the grey wizard jump. The white wizard, however, stood as still as stone, the emotion in his face too hard to decipher.

    “None of this matters anymore,” he said. “We’ll set things right. There won’t be any more conflict. I’m ending this once and for all. He has set a date for his attack on Hogwarts, and I will not keep him waiting.”

    “You can’t fight him, you can’t!” the witch shouted, the panic clear in her face. “You can’t subject the students to this! They’ve seen enough death! You cannot kill him! You’d sink to his level, and you cannot allow that!” The witch was desperate for a way to convince the white wizard to drop his convictions. However, the white wizard shook his head.

    “It has to end,” the white wizard said loudly.

    “If you kill him, you seal the spell and doom generations to come!” the witch bellowed. “Don’t damn the rest of the wizarding world because of a petty grudge!” But the white wizard was done. He walked away, the wind picking up and the rain falling harder. The grey wizard bowed towards the memorial, and then, with a wave of his wand, was suddenly armored. The white wizard whistled, and a pure white, winged horse, soaring gracefully in the air, landed softly next to the wizard. The wizard mounted, and looked at the grey wizard.

    “Verdoth...are you ready? He is here,” the white wizard asked. The grey wizard inclined his head. The witch, who was now freely crying, looked at the white wizard.

    “On your own head, be this,” she whispered. Harry then saw knights, armored, approach the graveyard. He then saw black knights, led by a wizard cloaked in dark green and shades of black.

    The two armies collided, and the rest was very familiar to Harry; the giants clashing with the knights, the white wizard beheading the dark wizard, and the murder of the grey wizard, Verdoth, and his change into a sentinel.

    And then, suddenly, everyone vanished. The world faded into black, and then reappeared in front of Harry’s eyes. He found himself in the middle of the Hogwarts grounds, and he was there only with the grey sentinel, Verdoth. He...it...wandered towards the castle, and Harry followed. Verdoth entered the castle, and when Harry too entered, he saw everyone he knew standing before him. The Weasleys, all looking sad, were staring at Harry. Hermione too, tears flowing from her eyes. There were the teachers, Dumbledore, Lupin, and Sirius, in dog form, was lying on the ground, whining. Harry walked right by them, following Verdoth, until he was at the stone staircase that led to the Astronomy tower. He climbed the stairs, and Verdoth opened the door.

    “This is your past, and your future,” he spoke. Harry reached the top of the stairs, and gazed into the room. It was very dark, save for a doorway that was lit up with a blue aura. Harry had not recognized the doorway before; he had attended Astronomy in that class and never saw a separate doorway. Harry was about to enter the room when a mysterious force knocked him back.

    “You are not ready to enter, you do not have it,” the sentinel croaked.

    “But where is it?” Harry demanded.

    “You will know, in time,” the sentinel said, and then held out his hand, fingers outstretched. Harry felt himself propelled backwards, falling down the stairs. At each bounce, he heard voices in their head.

    “They will be the source of your troubles.” The voice was clearly Malagar.

    “Still they plague me,” a voice responded, which was clearly Voldemort. Harry was flashing back to his dream on his birthday. He hit more steps, and heard more voices.

    “Wands out, you reckon?”

    “Kill the spare.” A flash of green light, and the picture of Cedric’s shocked face flashed in front of Harry’s eyes. Harry felt as if he had been falling for ages. He hit more steps, and heard more voices, saw more visions.

    “Stand aside, you silly girl,” Voldemort said.

    “Take me instead, don’t kill Harry,” a voice pleaded. Harry realized that it was his mother’s voice.     

    “I said stand aside,” Voldemort responded.

    “Please, have mercy,” Lily pleaded. Voldemort waved his wand. Harry hit the steps hard, blocking out the sound of Voldemort’s spell. He suddenly saw Lily fall. Voldemort turned on Harry with a twisted smile.

    “And now it will be done, and the last of your family will be eradicated,” Voldemort hissed malevolently to the baby Harry in front of him. “Avada Kedavra!” Voldemort shouted, and Harry saw the curse hit the baby, and with a flash of pure, white light, the curse bounced backwards and struck Voldemort. The shriek that Harry heard was inhuman, and the body of Voldemort crumpled. The body hit a candle and lit the house on fire. The fire raged around baby Harry, and it became very hot, but there was a distant rumble of an engine...

    ...Harry awoke with a start. Cold sweat covered his body, his heart was beating extremely fast. Harry gasped for breath, and tried to regain his composure. Harry blinked, trying to remember all of the details of the dream, but the visions were fading fast. Harry swore, but then saw the scarlet substance swirling in the somniscribe. He watched the dream again, taking notes as the contents played out. After Harry finished with his dream diary, he took out his wand to erase the contents. However, as Harry saw the face of his mother one more time, he hesitated. He vaguely remembered Professor Trelawney’s warning on overexposure to dreams, but he felt that there couldn’t be any harm. He kept the dream in the somniscribe. There was lots of important information in that dream, and Harry couldn’t risk losing it. Feeling quite exhausted, as if he hadn’t slept at all, he collapsed into his bed, and fell asleep once again. His dreams remained empty except for a voice that Harry couldn’t quite get rid of: the voice of his mother.