Harry Potter and the War of Souls

Chapter 10

The Secret of the Lake

Harry's first intention had been to return to the Gryffindor common room and go to bed early, but he realized he had no idea what the password was and he certainly wasn't going looking for anyone who could tell it to him. He considered going up to the Room of Requirements, but on his way, happened to pass the Prefects bathroom. The idea of going in there somehow appealed to him. Very few people were allowed in and it was closer to the Gryffindor common room which would limit the number of people he'd have to see on his way back.

Perhaps it had been foolish to walk out like that. His hope was to send a clear message to Scrimgeour and to everyone else in the room that he was not in the Ministry's back pocket, but he knew it was more likely they'd all view it like he was throwing some giant tantrum. Maybe he was.

He went inside the bathroom and locked the door behind him then realized this may not have been his best choice, mainly because if you weren't going to take a bath, this wasn't the most comfortable room to relax in. He sat on the edge of the giant tub that was now both empty and dry, and swung his legs inside. He couldn't help but think of the last time he'd been in here with that giant egg and Moaning Myrtle.

Moaning Myrtle? She'd been at school with Tom Riddle. He wondered if she might have known him.

"Myrtle?" he called out, wondering if it was ridiculous to call into the thin air. But within moments, he heard a wailing sound approaching and saw Myrtle descending from the air above him.

"Harry?" she grinned. "Did you really come here to see me?"

"Uh, yes."

"Oh, Head Boy," she said, looking at his badge. "You've come a long way at school, haven't you?"

"I s'pose."

"If I hadn't died, they might have made me Head Girl," she said with her trademark whine. "I would have been a good one."

"I'm sure you would." Harry pressed his lips together. "Listen, when you were at school here, did you know Tom Riddle?"

Myrtle smiled. "Oh sure, everyone did. Handsome boy. Nice eyes. I think I remember hearing that he turned out a bit dodgy, though. Too bad."

"Yes, he did."

"I always liked him, though. In fact, when he came back for a visit to the school a few years later, I tried to talk to him. He was swimming in the lake, you know so I thought he might be looking for me. But in the end, he was only there to bury a box."

Harry felt as if his heart skipped a few beats. "He buried a box in the lake?"

"Yes, and he seemed right angry with me for noticing. But I was already dead so what could he do about it?" She laughed.

"Do you remember where the box is?"

"Of course, but I wouldn't go there if I were you."

"Why not?" He'd been all over the lake three years ago and if it were the merpeople or grindylows she was trying to warn him about, he'd learned how to handle them.

"There's Inferi in the lake now. They don't get up to the surface much. Mostly they just stay around where that box was."

"As if they're guarding it?"

"Maybe, but how valuable could it have been? I mean, if it really had something important inside, why would Tom have buried it at the bottom of the lake where nobody could ever get at it again?"

Harry stood. "Myrtle, if I asked you to show me where the box was, would you come with me and help me find it?"

Her ghostly face paled even further, if that was possible, but she shrugged it off and said, "I wouldn't go there now, not even for you. But I can tell you where it is." Using the bathtub as a map, she showed Harry's the landmarks he could follow and then pointed out exactly where the box was buried.

Harry memorized her route, then said, "Thanks, Myrtle. I've got to go."

He ran from the Prefect bathroom, no longer caring who might see him or whisper about him. He hurried back to the Great Hall and found both Hermione and Ron coming out.

"Harry, that man never should have-" Hermione began but Harry interrupted.

"It's okay. Listen, I think I know where one of the Horcruxes is."

"What? Where?"

As other students were coming out, he pulled them into a quieter area near the wall. "Tom Riddle came back here sometime after graduation - maybe at the same time he came to apply to Dumbledore for the Dark Arts Defense position. He buried a box at the bottom of the lake. I talked to Moaning Myrtle. She knows where it is."

"This is great," Hermione said, a wide smile across her face. "We can get some gillyweed from Neville and go after it, maybe as early as tomorrow morning!"

Harry sighed. "There's just one problem. The Inferi guard it now. I don't know how to get past them."

"Oh is that all?" Ron said sarcastically. "The undead don't want us to have the box?"

"Shut up, Ron," Hermione said. "Harry, we'll figure out a way. There's always a way."

Harry nodded and returned with his friends to the common room. They waited inside and descended at once upon Neville when he walked in.

"We need gillyweed," Harry told him. "Can you get it?"

Neville stared at them in turn before he said, "You had some in the Tri-wizard cup, where did you get it then?"

"Dobby. But he stole it from Snape's storehouses. I don't know if any of his stuff is still here. Can you get it?"

Neville shrugged. "If you give me enough time, then yeah, maybe."

"I don't have time, Neville," Harry sighed. But Neville only continued staring helplessly at him and he added, "Okay, as soon as you can, then."

The portrait door opened and Harry blinked when he saw who entered. It was Bill Weasley, with an armful of papers and a subdued smile on his face. Harry looked around, but none of his fellow Gryffindors seemed at all surprised.

"I didn't get a chance to tell you in the Great Hall," Ron said, beaming. "He's not only the new DADA instructor. He's head of Gryffindor house now!"

"That's great," Harry said, genuinely excited by the news.

There was a hint of sadness to Bill's voice as he spoke, and his scars didn't seem to be very much, if at all improved. But he tried to be cheery as he said, "Hello everyone, I just wanted to start things off by saying a personal hello. Some of you know me," he said with a glance at Ron, "but for those who don't, I was a Gryffindor myself not too long ago. But this year," he added, his face growing more serious, "this year is going to go down in history. It's going to be a great one, and I'm glad you'll all be here to see it. I have a feeling your great-great-grandchildren will be asking you to tell them about this year of your lives."

A cheer followed his speech and then he set the papers down on a table. "Your course schedules. I thought I'd just give them to you tonight. See you all tomorrow!"

He ducked out of the portrait hole. Harry moved quickly, though, and followed him out. "Bill!" he called, then caught himself. "Er, I mean, Professor."

"I don't need you to call me that," Bill said. "You're family, Harry."

"Yeah, thanks. Listen, I'm sorry about Fleur."

Bill lowered his eyes. "She got caught in the crossfire. I tried to get to her but it was too late." He swallowed hard then said, "Is there anything else you needed?"

Harry wanted to ask him about curse-breaking. If anyone knew how to destroy horcruxes, it would be Bill. Moreover, if there was anyone else he could trust to talk to about this, it was him. But there was such a sadness in his eyes Harry couldn't bring himself to open the subject now. So he just shook his head, muttered, "Glad to have you here," and returned to the common room.

Classes began the next morning, and although Harry made his rounds at all of them, his heart wasn't in it. Slughorn welcomed him personally to class and invited him to tea at his earliest convenience. Professor Binns started off in his typically dry manner in a detailed discussion of the Last Rise of the Trolls in the 1700's, and his lecture only got worse as class wore on. In fact, it wasn't until his first Defense Against the Dark Arts class later in the week that Harry even bothered taking out his quill.

Bill sat on the corner of his desk and studied each of the students before beginning. Finally, he said, "The Wizarding World is at war. Voldemort is back." A series of gasps went around the room as he spoke the name and Bill straightened his back. "You can't hear his name? How can you understand this war if you can't even speak the name of the enemy? His name is Voldemort. I want everyone to say it." Bill held up his hands and led them to say, "Voldemort."

Harry looked around. He'd heard his voice, Hermione's, and to his side, Ron had said it quietly. There were a few other voices who'd spoken it, mostly ones Harry had worked with in the DA.

"Again," Bill said, and this time more students spoke it. After a third round, it was said with enough conviction that Bill seemed satisfied.

"Right then," he continued. "As I said, we are at war. I want everyone in this class to stand who has lost someone they love to Voldemort or His followers." Bill set the tone by standing first.

Harry stood, remembering his parents, Cedric, then Sirius, then Dumbledore. He heard other chairs scooting back then looked around the classroom. Every person in the room was standing. A Slytherin girl in the back corner was crying and holding the hand of the girl next to her.

"Take your seats," Bill said. "Except for Harry. Please remain standing."

Harry felt his face go flush. He didn't want this again, particularly not from Bill.

"I read the newspapers, same as you," Bill began. "We all know what they're writing about Harry Potter, what they're saying. You think he's been chosen to kill Voldemort. You think that if he'd just get busy and be through with it, your problems would be over. Maybe if he'd acted sooner, your loved ones would still be here, maybe Dumbledore would still be here."

Harry felt a stab of pain at the mention of Dumbledore's name but tried not to let it show on his face. He wanted to sit back down and be anyone else with any other name.

"The fact is, we don't know if he's some sort of chosen one or not. We don't even know if there is a chosen one. Bottom line is, you can't trust the security of those around you to anyone else. Not to my wand, or the Headmistress' wand, or-" he said with a look directly at Harry "- to Harry Potter's wand. You prepare yourself now so that if the time comes, you're ready with your own wand. Have a seat, Harry. Now get out your wands, everyone. We're going to work on nonverbal shields."

The week improved after that. Bill must have been saying the same thing to the other classes because people weren't staring at him so much. He didn't feel normal necessarily, but he did feel like he could occasionally take a step in one direction or another without someone watching him.

However, his feelings of relaxation changed Friday night as he slept. He'd been dreaming of Quidditch, but for no apparent reason, he landed and left his broom on the pitch. He looked up at the students around him and suddenly felt a hatred towards all of them such as he had never felt before. The hatred was so tangible he could feel it in his grasp. He could stand upon it, rise upon it. Rise above them all.

"Which of you will die?" he yelled up at them. "Who is next?"

The stadium quieted and looked at him in terror. No one dared move for fear they'd be singled out. He swung his wand in one direction then another. "Should it be a Ravenclaw, a Hufflepuff? Surely I wouldn't touch my own Slytherins, or shall I? No," Harry said, approaching one stand where the seats were filled with colors of Maroon and Gold. "It should be a Gryffindor. One of his Gryffindors. If he will not join me, he will watch them die!" And with a tilt of his wand, Harry flung a curse at the stands which began to crumble and fall. With screams and wailing they fell to their deaths. And Harry laughed.

"Harry, wake up!"

He opened his eyes and saw Ron shaking him. From the look in Ron's wide eyes, Harry could tell it had been bad. He heard Dean and Seamus mumbling something to each other across the room and wondered if he'd woken everyone up.

"Was I yelling?" Harry asked quietly.

"No." Ron scrunched up his face. "You were laughing. Laughing and repeating the word 'die' over and over. What were you dreaming?"

"Don't remember," Harry lied. In truth, he remembered every detail of the dream. And he clearly remembered that it had happened because he, Harry, had refused to join Voldemort.

"I guess if you don't remember there's no point in telling McGonagall," Ron decided.

"Let's just get back to sleep," Harry agreed, although he knew he would never shut his eyes again that night.

However, when morning came, things had gotten much worse. Hedwig was waiting at the window with a folded piece of parchment in his grip. Harry opened it quietly as everyone else was still asleep. The words on the parchment sent a pain into his chest.

It read, "I had dreams too. That's when I knew I could never go back."