Harry Potter and the Orb of Power

Chapter 31: The Sententia Curse

Harry found himself being led to Dumbledore's office by Professor McGonagall. Dumbledore was holding the limp form of Hermione, who had once again passed out due to shock. Snape was speaking quickly to Dumbledore as Dobby stayed very close to the headmaster, nearly causing Dumbledore to trip.

"We'll never find him at this rate, Severus. He lost his tool, but he himself is still dangerous. I'm going to search the forest, there is no doubt he's hiding there," Dumbledore said quickly. "Minerva, take Harry to my office and wait with him. I'll be there after I check on Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley. Madame Pomfrey will be very busy tonight. Severus, please alert Argus that he'll have to do some repairs. Dobby, enlist some of the house elves to assist him, please." Dobby nodded, and with a loud crack, he disappeared. Snape swept quickly out of sight, heading towards Filch's office.

"Come with me, Potter," McGonagall said grimly, putting her hand on his shoulder and forcing him to part with Dumbledore and Hermione.

"Will she be all right? And what about Ron?"

"We'll know later, just come with me," she said quickly. The two of them walked in silence, save for the echoes of their footsteps filling the halls. A grey sentinel of a woman missing an arm emerged from a door to the right, and walked directly towards Harry and McGonagall. McGonagall took out her wand, waited until the sentinel was gone, and then led Harry to the phoenix gargoyle outside of Dumbledore's office. McGonagall issued the password and escorted Harry onto the winding staircase. The staircase slowly ground upwards, and when they finally reached the top, McGonagall opened the door and guided Harry inside. Fawkes was sitting on his perch, glowing unusually orange. Harry looked into Fawkes' eyes and felt a twinge in his scar. He looked away and at McGonagall, who had conjured a cup of hot chocolate and a plate of biscuits for Harry to eat.

"Professor..."

"We know what happened, Potter. Dobby the house elf told us the events of the halls, and we saw the rest using the charms we placed on the Astronomy Tower," McGonagall responded, putting up her hands. Harry fell silent.

"We shouldn't have gone up there, we just wanted help," Harry said, feeling an overwhelming need to explain himself.

"Understandable Potter, yet that is not why you are here in the Headmaster's office. Have a biscuit." McGonagall held out the plate of biscuits. Harry took one, not really feeling an urge to eat but knowing that McGonagall would insist if he refused.

"Why was the dragon here?" Harry asked, taking a bite out of the biscuit. "How did it get here?"

"It was a sentinel, Potter, of the very same dragon that attacked you when you were in Diagon Alley during the summer," Professor McGonagall responded.

"But why was it in color when all the other ones are grey?" Harry asked. "And why didn't the Macabre Hand spell that I used stop it like it stopped the other one that attacked me at the beginning of the year?"

"Potter, take another biscuit, and do slow down," McGonagall responded irritably. "You have far too many questions; you need to exercise some patience." Harry shook his head in frustration. Talking to McGonagall was nothing like talking to Dumbledore.

"As for the Macabre Hand spell, you simply missed, Potter," McGonagall said bracingly. "Not impossible given your situation. Sentinels can fade in and out of physical form, and become invisible if they are given enough powers by their master."

"I don't understand...how are sentinels created?" Harry asked, thoroughly confused.

"The Sententia Curse is a powerful curse, Potter, a curse that would have been deemed an Unforgivable Curse if the use of which hadn't died out long ago. The spell is more complicated than the Killing Curse, because that curse merely kills the body and frees the soul. The Sententia Curse, however, not only kills the body, it traps the soul here, so that it must forever more live out the last moments of its life." Harry felt his insides shrivel up. Trapping a soul from going to where it was supposed to go, making it relive the last moments of its life? It sounded like torture.

"That's awful," Harry mumbled, the only thing that he could say.

"It's more than awful, Potter. There is no way to correct the process; the trapping is complete and absolute."

"So why was the dragon green then? All of the other sentinels are grey," Harry said, his eyebrows furrowed in thought.

"The answer, Potter, is simply that those who created the grey sentinels are no longer alive. Sentinels must serve their creators, and in that service they retain their former appearance. However, when their creators die, they lose their color, and become grey, haunting specters. However, they retain much of their potency, and have great physical and magical strength. If the sentinels were wizards in their lives, they can still perform spells, but the magic of a sentinel is not in spell work. Most of the time sentinels use their magic to bind themselves into the service of those that request their aid. The sentinels you see here at Hogwarts have used their magical powers to tie them to a master, namely Professor Dumbledore. For sentinels need a master, otherwise they fade from physical perception, and become invisible haunts that can interact with no one."

"Do they get to escape eventually?" Harry asked, hoping that someone these tortured souls would get some peace.

"You aren't listening, Potter," McGonagall said irritably. "There is no erasing the effects of the spell. Sentinels cannot be killed, for they are not truly alive. The only way a sentinel can fade from this world is if a dementor performs the dementor's kiss on one of them. Since the sentinel is merely a trapped soul, dementors can easily consume them. Dementors are the only creatures that have a defense against sentinels, as their main focus is to consume as many souls as possible. However, the strength and magic inherent in sentinels allow them to kill a dementor. If a sentinel, a tortured soul, can summon a happy enough memory, it can cast the Patronus Charm, which would not only drive back the dementor, but kill it entirely."

"Which is why the sentinels were chosen to guard Hogwarts," Harry said, everything suddenly clicking.

"Exactly, Potter," McGonagall said approvingly.

"Wait, then why did the dragon sentinel disappear tonight when it hit the ground?"

"The dragon sustained impossibly traumatic injuries, and it lost touch with the physical world. It still exists, technically, but no longer has the power to do any harm. You, Miss Granger, and Mr. Weasley certainly did a number on it. I'm impressed," McGonagall said, amusement flashing in her eyes. "Gryffindor will be well rewarded for tonight's acts of bravery." Harry smiled, but the question he wanted to ask most was still lingering on his mind. He wasn't sure how to phrase it; he didn't want to get his hopes up, but he had to know...

"Professor? Am I an Animagus?" Harry asked, looking up at her. McGonagall gave him a searching look that was very reminiscent of Dumbledore. Her lips thinned and her eyes narrowed as she stared at Harry.

"No, Mr. Potter, you are not an Animagus," McGonagall said at last. "An Animagus is a wizard who trains himself or herself to change form into an animal. You, Potter, have learned to do it in mere seconds. There is no classification that I know of that describes your talent, although this was not unexpected. I suppose, sometime in the near future, I will have to train you to control your transformations." Before Harry could ask any more questions, the door of the office swung open and Dumbledore stepped inside.

"Thank you very much Minerva for watching our guest. Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger are both resting comfortably in the hospital wing and will be recovered in no time. I need you, Minerva, to make the rounds and make sure that Mr. Malfoy is not in the castle. Unless there is somewhere hidden in the Forbidden Forest that I have no knowledge of, Lucius is not in the forest. We can't prove his connection to the dragon without his wand, but I want someone to meet with him to make him think we have no idea of his involvement." McGonagall swept out of the office without a word. Dumbledore sat in the chair at the Headmaster's desk, took a quick glance at Fawkes, and then rubbed his eyes. The man looked simply exhausted.

"Fawkes, Harry, will not be with us for very long," Dumbledore said through his hands. Harry knew this already; he had heard it when he spied on the meeting of the Order of the Phoenix. However, he still didn't think Dumbledore knew about that, so he decided it would be prudent to keep up an act.

"Why not, Professor?" Harry said, arranging his face in what he hoped was a confused expression.

"Fawkes' job is nearly complete," Dumbledore said, raising his light blue eyes to meet Harry's. "You see, Fawkes was used in a spell that gave him the authority to end a conflict that has been raging for centuries. Fawkes, when the time would come, would choose who would win the conflict and bring to an end the wars that have raged through the ages. As you can see, Fawkes is changing before our eyes, and it is simply because he is almost ready to make his decision. The actions of a chosen few during this time will most likely determine the outcome of the war."

"Oh," Harry said, looking at Fawkes in a new light. Dumbledore was right; Fawkes was the key to everything.

"Of course, faith in prophecies, even one made on the foundation of spell work, should be kept to a minimum. But this prophecy was made by such a renowned witch that we almost know for certain that it is true. Because of the faith in the prophecy, a group was formed; the Order of the Phoenix, to protect Fawkes and make sure that no one could kill Fawkes before he could make his decision. For you see, Fawkes can't be killed by any magical means, but if someone were to try to kill him by muggle means, he would not stand a chance." Dumbledore gave Harry a piercing look as he said this, and closed his eyes. A long, pregnant silence filled the room as the headmaster became lost in thought. Feeling his own mind wander, Harry looked around at the portraits of the headmasters and headmistresses of Hogwarts. There were many, some were high on the wall. Most were sleeping, some were absent from their pictures, probably mingling with other paintings in Hogwarts. Harry's eyes rested on one that was completely empty, merely a frame and a purple background in the picture.

"Professor? Whose image is supposed to be in that picture?" Harry asked, pointing to the empty portrait.

"Ah. That was supposed to be the portrait of the very first headmaster of Hogwarts, Verdoth Longbottom."

"Longbottom? You mean, related to Neville?" Harry gasped, taken aback by the news.

"Yes I do, Harry. Verdoth Longbottom was a good friend of Godric Gryffindor, and when the founders discovered they would rather teach than handle the administrative part of running of a school, Gryffindor hired Longbottom to become Headmaster."

"Why is it empty?" Harry asked, confused.

"A wizarding portrait is much different from a photograph, Harry," Dumbledore began. "The act of creating a portrait, the effort behind the likenesses, is a subtle magic that puts some of the soul of the subject in the painting, which is why they can move about and act like they did while alive. However, Verdoth Longbottom was hit by the Sententia Curse that Professor McGonagall has no doubt informed you of, and his soul was trapped here on Earth. His story is tragic, for he also created the Order of the Phoenix, to protect Fawkes here."

"Fawkes was alive when the Founders were?" Harry gaped, looking at the ancient bird.

"Yes, although not many know it." Another silence filled the room as Dumbledore stared at the glowing bird. Harry looked at the bird, and was reminded of the form he took that night.

"Professor, how is it that I became a phoenix tonight?" Harry asked, not satisfied by the answer that McGonagall had given him.

"You remember, Harry, that in your second year, in a period of grave peril for a student, you spoke in Parseltongue when you formerly knew nothing of its existence?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes alight with amusement.

"Yes...you said it was because Voldemort transferred powers to me," Harry said slowly.

"Exactly, Harry. And it is because of that transfer of power that you were able to transform into a phoenix, without formerly knowing how."

"Does that mean Voldemort is an Animagus?" Harry asked fearfully.

"While it is not beyond Lord Voldemort's powers, I'm afraid he feels rather above such a common skill. However, Harry, it is important for you to remember that you are not an Animagus, for if you were, you would have to register, and lose a formidable weapon," Dumbledore said with a rare smile. Harry smiled, and realized that, despite McGonagall's technicality, he was something of an Animagus.

"I was holding the Orb while I fell," Harry said slowly. "Maybe it was because of the Orb that I was able to become a phoenix."

"The Orb does not grant power, Harry. You yourself are a very powerful wizard, with unlimited potential; it is just that your body is not capable of manifesting the powers that make you equal to the Dark Lord. You will find, Harry, that in time, or in great peril, you will be able to do extraordinary things." Harry fell silent, reflecting on all he heard.

"And the voice? The voice of the woman that lured me out tonight?" Harry asked. Dumbledore looked down at his hands for a long time, slowly pondering Harry's question. He then took a glance at his watch, and yawned.

"Unfortunately, Harry, it is getting late, and I cannot afford to answer any more questions. Madame Pomfrey will have me skinned alive for keeping you from treatment. Rest assured that the sentinel that attempted to harm you and your friends tonight is gone, and that the person that allowed this to happen will be dealt with. And do be careful." Harry nodded and, without a further word, exited Dumbledore's office. He walked slowly towards the hospital wing, slowly turning over the explanation of what sentinels are. The more Harry thought about it, the more he grew more and more wary of coming into contact with one. At first he thought that they were just a bit creepy, but now the thought that they were stuck forever was saddening. Harry thought about the headmaster who was struck with the Sententia Curse, and felt a swell of sympathy for him. His life was tragically shortened, and yet was now going on forever...

I hope no one that I know ever is hit with that curse, Harry thought bitterly. No one deserves that, not even Malfoy. It was cruel and sadistic. It was good, really, that the use of the curse had died out...

And yet Voldemort had used it just this year.

The fact that Voldemort was comfortable with this seemingly ancient curse troubled Harry more than he could explain. He used it so effortlessly; he seemed to have used it before. Could he have used it on one of his many victims during his reign of terror? Are there people around, now, that posed being alive but were really sentinels condemned to an eternal life of torment? Harry tried to shake these thoughts, but one startling thought emerged into his brain that disturbed Harry beyond reckoning.

Had Voldemort possibly used the curse on his parents?

No, no, that's impossible. They're dead, he used Avada Kedavra, Harry thought dismissively. The green light in his dreams was proof of the Killing Curse.

And yet the Sententia Curse is also green light.

Doubt filled Harry's mind; it gnawed at his soul and consumed his brain. What if his mother or father had been hit with the Sententia Curse as a punishment for fighting against Voldemort? What if they were sentinels right now? They could be out there somewhere!

But they would have contacted you, Harry thought bitterly. He was being stupid; he was entertaining notions of speaking with his parents when no hope was to be had. He threw the possibility out of his mind. It was not possible: his parents were dead.

And yet...

Harry finally reached the door to the hospital wing and entered. Madame Pomfrey shrieked with relief and instantly began to diagnose him. She managed to bandage up Harry's gash and mend what seemed to be a broken rib that Harry had not even noticed. Harry saw Ron sleeping peacefully with three different bottles of potions on the desk next to him. Hermione was sleeping like an angel in the bed next to Ron. Harry felt such a burst of emotion at the sight of Hermione that he did not even notice that Madame Pomfrey had forced him to drink a Sleeping Draught.

"To bed, there you get, Potter," Madame Pomfrey said, pushing Harry onto the bed. Harry felt himself grow incredibly drowsy, and in his last waking thought, he found himself thinking just one question:

Just whose voice was it that called him out of the Gryffindor Common Room?

***

"I'll be very happy to get out of here soon, these potions are revolting," Ron said, drinking one of three potions he was taking to restore the strength of his organs. The Vipertooth sentinel had collapsed his ribs, puncturing his lungs and his heart.

"Well, at least you're alive, and that's what matters," Hermione said, sitting up in bed and reading her Arithmancy text.

"You're finally excused from homework and you're still doing it? Revolting," Ron said. Harry said in the middle of their beds, laughing and thoroughly appreciating the fact that they were all alive, and were all very able to recover. Harry had told them all about what Dumbledore and McGonagall had told him, but he had kept from them his own pondering on the voice that had lured them out of Gryffindor Tower. He felt, no matter how good of friends they were, they wouldn't understand about his parents.

"So this business about the dragon explains a lot," Hermione said, finally shutting her Arithmancy text.

"Like what those great, ruddy eyes were?" Ron said sarcastically.

"No, it explains what happened at the first Quidditch match. Lucius was using the dragon to tamper with the team. The dragon's wings are very powerful; they were probably used to slow you down."

"I think you're right," Ron said. "It could have been grabbing the brooms too!"

"Well at least that's out of the way," Harry said. "I bet Lucius would have used it against us when we play Slytherin for the Cup."

"Speaking of that slimy toad, where is he?" Ron asked angrily. "I'll kill him for what he's done."

"I have no idea. Remember, Dumbledore and McGonagall are going to play ignorant of his involvement," Harry reminded Ron.

"Pity they don't send him to Azkaban," Ron said bitterly.

"If they get close to Lucius, they can use his wand as proof of his actions and send him to trial. They need to pretend at first," Hermione said. Hermione ran her hand over her shoulder and winced.

"It's still tender," she said softly. "But thanks to you it's pretty much healed." Hermione gave Harry a bright look, and absent mindedly fingered the jewel that Harry gave her for Christmas. Harry looked at it, and suddenly was stricken by a horrible realization.

The dragon was targeting Hermione.

It was as if everything suddenly made sense. He should have realized it before! Lucius noticed the jewel; every time he saw Hermione he stared at it. He must have confused Hermione's Christmas present for the Orb of Power, thinking it was some sort of diversion. What a fool he was for getting Hermione something that looked like the Orb! What was he thinking? He could have gotten them all killed!

Anger bubbled up in his stomach, rising to his face, turning him red with fury. He was being careless, reckless. He couldn't afford to make mistakes like that with so much hanging in the balance. Harry pushed his anger down, hoping that Ron and Hermione didn't notice.

"Are you all right, Harry?" Hermione asked, noticing the awkward look on Harry's face.

"I'm all right," he mumbled, faking a smile. Harry looked out the window; the sun was blocked by dark grey clouds swirling around the castle, threatening to unleash a late torrent of snow. School was cancelled for the day, and Harry had been staying in the hospital wing with Ron and Hermione for the entire day. However, Madame Pomfrey swept into the wing, looking like she was in a terrible temper.

"Mr. Potter, these patients need some rest. Do make yourself useful elsewhere," she spat, pouring a potion for Ron to drink. He gave Hermione and Ron an apologetic look and exited the hospital wing, finding that his thoughts were drifting more and more to Hermione.

If she had died, it would have been my fault, Harry thought bitterly. He kept running over the vision of Hermione in the dragon's claws, remembering clearly the blood and the screaming. She could have died! What if he wasn't able to transform into the phoenix, what would have happened? They both would have died, and for what? A Christmas present! Harry felt the urge to scream aloud, to let his frustration burst forth. In a moment, he felt his rage bursting forth. Harry leaned against the wall, breathing heavily, trying hard not to lose control. Repressing his anger, feeling himself calming down, Harry slid to the floor, and buried his face in his hands, seeing only a blank, expressionless look on Hermione's face, one that reminded him eerily of Cedric.

***

Harry's dreams were invaded by ghastly scenarios and frightful images. He saw Ron being lashed against the wall; he saw Hermione being torn apart by a dragon. He tossed and turned, trying to rid himself of the horrible pictures moving through his brain. He saw his parents' echoes, he saw Neville's parents lying dead on the hospital floor, he saw Sirius whining in pain, pleading for someone to find him. Harry felt restlessness bubbling up inside him, but eventually, he found himself drifting into an uneasy sleep...

...Harry was at the foot of the Astronomy tower. A battle was raging outside; the white wizard and dark wizard were dueling. Harry ignored the screams of pain and the loud explosions that filled the air, and looked straight ahead, up the stairs. Harry saw the grey specter of a sentinel standing at the top of the stairs, its flaming sword flickering with eerie grey light. It beckoned with its gauntlet, its blazing eyes burning in the darkness. Harry climbed the stairs slowly, cautiously, feeling the darkness swell around him.

"This is your past, and your future," the sentinel growled. Harry reached the top of the stairs, and followed the sentinel into the Astronomy Tower. The room looked exactly as it did in the present day; desks were arranged in a semi-circle around the teacher's desk and a chalkboard. The sentinel passed by a star chart on the wall and passed through a rather boring purple drape. Harry looked reluctantly at the drape, not sure as to how he was supposed to pass through it. The deep, growling voice of the sentinel beckoned him. Harry walked slowly, as if mesmerized by some spell, through the drapes.

He was in a dark, dank corridor lit with black-flamed torches. The walls were dripping with moisture, comprised of stone bricks that were brown and green. The air was stuffy and stale as if it hadn't moved in centuries. Harry had to catch his breath before he continued; the air was stifling. Harry walked along the dark path, barely able to see the sentinel walking ahead of him. Harry broke into a run and reached the end of the corridor. This door was emblazoned with the Hogwarts seal: A lion, serpent, badger, and eagle, all surrounding a lavish looking H. The sentinel came through the door, and spoke to Harry.

"You cannot enter yet. You are not yet ready to see what lies behind and ahead of you. You are close...so close..."

"What's behind there?" Harry shouted, his voice oddly echoing. "What's behind the door?"

"The truth," the growling voice responded. "The truth of your existence, the truth of the coming conflict, and the truth of what has caused such a war."

"Let me through," Harry shouted, approaching the door.

"You are not ready," the voice growled, and he extended his hand. Harry felt himself hurtling backwards, through the drapes, and down the stairs of the Astronomy Tower. Harry landed on the floor, banging his head on the ground...

Harry awoke with a fright, panting as if he had been running for miles. He looked around, trying to get a handle on his surroundings, and merely saw the familiar pink ropes stretching from his somniscribe. Taking a few calming breaths, Harry drifted again into an uneasy slumber.