Thank you once again for all the kind support and reviews.  Here’s the next chapter, I hope you enjoy it as much as I have!

Harry Potter and the Unlocked Knowledge

Chapter Seven:  Reactions and Lessons

Sunday morning breakfast at Hogwarts was usually a rather lazy affair, with many of the students treating it more like a brunch; this often caused students to take their owls in their own common room.  Once those owls were delivered this first complete Sunday of term, however, students all raced down to the Great Hall to see just how Draco Malfoy was taking the news.  They were not disappointed.

Harry Potter sat calmly at the Gryffindor table sitting a cup of tea, dressed rather casually in a simple lounge robe and absorbing the conversation when a red-faced Malfoy tore his way into the Great Hall, eyes bright with fury as he glared at Potter and raced towards him, unaware or uncaring of the massive number of students flooding the Hall in anticipation of this very confrontation.

“POTTER!  What the bloody hell is the meaning of this?”  He shoved the paper in Harry’s face.  Harry calmly accepted the paper that Draco shoved at him and made to read the front page slowly.

“Don’t act that way!  You know exactly what I’m talking about!  You stole my money!”  Draco screamed.  By now he had attracted the attention of every student in the hall, who whispered excitedly in anticipation, in addition to the teachers – Professors Snape, McGonagall, and Flitwick were all on their way to prevent a very public brawl from occurring.

“I think you’ll find that you’re mistaken, dear cousin.  I was, regrettably, forced to use my authority as the Head of such a noble House to commandeer the funds of certain Death Eaters with relations to those houses to set up a Victim’s Relief Fund for the survivors and families of the victims of Death Eater attacks.  I personally have neither need nor desire for all that much wealth, I assure you, but I do not think it fair that such victims are left helpless to fend for themselves.  The goblins will administer the fund, so if you believe yourself such a victim and in need of financial assistance, they will be of service to you.  However, I believe that half of your fortune – a substantial sum, I know – is still in your possession, so count your luck.”

“You think you’ll get away with this, Potter?”  Draco finally pulled his wand, which Harry fully expected and was ready for, and silently let loose an eerily familiar burst of purple – it seemed Draco had gotten lessons from Dolohov – that Harry batted away with a swift motion of his wand.  The curse impacted the wall some twenty feet above the students, leaving dark scorch marks in a sinister pattern.  He was about to curse again when Snape, of all people, grabbed his student’s arm and shot him a look that may have killed him on the spot.  

“You won’t get away with this, Potter, the Dark Lord will get his revenge!”  Draco screamed and spittle flew from his foaming mouth in his insane rage.  Must have inherited the unstable side from dear Bella, Tom mused.  Draco’s words, however, struck a bit of a chord with Harry, who sincerely hoped that Voldemort’s anger would just be focused on him, and others wouldn’t be forced to suffer.  Snape grabbed the back of Malfoy’s robes after finally wrestling his arm down and marched him away; anyone who was watching would have seen five stones that keep track of points subtract themselves from the Slytherin pool – the first time Snape had ever subtracted points from Slytherin.  Of course, most teachers would have taken more than five points for using Dark Magic in anger against another student in the Great Hall, but Harry thought it quite impressive for Snape.

“Mister Potter, are you alright?”  Professor McGonagall asked, knowing the answer.

“Just fine, Professor, thank you.  And how are you?”  Harry asked with a dazzling grin, as though he hadn’t just impressively countered a Dark spell.

“Quite well, Mr. Potter.  I was quite impressed with your little fund, Mr. Potter, it was a very good thing you did.”  Professor McGonagall walked away as Professor Dumbledore himself walked up.

“I believe the spectacle is over and that you all should get back to your breakfasts.”  He said in an amplified voice.  At a lower decibel he continued, “I was most surprised by this morning’s paper, Harry; any reason you failed to mention your goblin correspondence last evening?”  His smile was quite amused under his beard.

 

“Well, Professor, it must have slipped my mind.  It certainly wasn’t as important as the other topics we discussed.”  Harry said, resuming his grin.

“I think Mr. Malfoy might disagree with you…in any case, enjoy your brunch, Harry.”  Professor Dumbledore elegantly glided away with mirth in his eyes.  Harry, however, was just about finished, and promised his fellow Gryffindors that he would be in the common room.  As he walked through the door, he saw the disapproving face of Hermione – a face she’d shown him far too often lately, so he walked up to her.

“Hermione, come with me, we need to talk.”  She muttered something to the effects of, “Oh do we?” before obediently acquiescing at his hard glare.  Making his way to the training room, he opened it as she said, “Oh, one girl to snog isn’t enough, Harry, need to have your way with me, too?”

“What’s that about?”  He said evenly, attempting to ignore the barbs from his best friend.

“What’s this about?  I thought you were responsible enough not to abuse the use of this training room, but then there I find you and Katie, scantily clad and snogging as I walk in!”  Harry seemed nonplussed.

“And what crime is that?  Katie and I happened to share a kiss – our first kiss, I might add – in here after a long day of training and me finally asking her out to Hogsmeade next time we go.  And I ask you please not to imply that I’m sitting here snogging different girls every day or something like that, because I’d have sworn that my best friend knew me better than that!  Even Ron isn’t giving me the trouble you are, and I’d like to know what your problem is!”

“My problem is YOU!  I’m working my arse off all day every day and barely keeping afloat in my classes!  You, meanwhile, are somehow beating me in every class you attend!  Potions: you discover a book and somehow manage to understand every modification in there, while even I have to look up half of their effects!  Transfiguration: McGonagall suddenly has a new favorite as you flirt horribly with her and present her with excellent examples of extraordinarily difficult transfiguration that I know you didn’t work on this summer, don’t even lie to me about that!  What’s next?  Charms: Flitwick squeals every time you move there!”  She said with a roll of her watery eyes, “And Defense at least I can understand, I saw you working with Moody there.  But the rest of it just doesn’t make any bloody sense!  And I don’t want to fall behind in any of my classes but I just can’t compete with how easily you understand everything and I’m taking other classes that are really giving me trouble and oh –” Harry enveloped his fragile friend in a hug and soothingly ran his hand along the back of her head, encouraging her as she erupted into tears on his shoulder.  It was time for Harry now, not Tom, though Tom would maybe help some.

“Hermione, listen to me, you’re brilliant, really you are!  So brilliant, and I can’t even compare to you!  Look, you’ve helped me so much through all the years, I never would have gotten here without you.  And you’re right, I didn’t really practice much over the summer in Transfiguration or Charms, but I did practice in dueling constantly and in Occlumency.  And dueling has made me more magically powerful, so all that kind of magic is really easy for me to do, I don’t have to force the magic out or anything.  Occlumency helps me tremendously in Transfiguration by helping me focus on the thing I want to transfigure in all its details.  Really, McGonagall told me, with better Occlumency my focus just makes the whole subject easier; its just a matter of learning some theory.  And since I have such a light load of classes – no Arithmancy or Ancient Runes essays, which I know are really tough – I just have more time to do that theory groundwork and look up Potions effects.  And I don’t know all of them immediately, I have to look them up all the time!”

“Oh, Harry, I’m just so worried that I’m not doing well if I’m not keeping up with the class, and I really need to do well on my N.E.W.T.s, so I just think I’m not keeping up!”  Harry continued the clingy embrace with his friend to calm her down.

“Of course you’ll do wonderfully, Hermione, you shouldn’t doubt that.  I’m telling you, it’s just a few silly tricks I learned over the summer, in addition to me not taking a killer course load, that’s keeping my head above water.”  He said with an easy grin straight from Tom.

“Keeping your head above water?  Oh Harry, you’re doing brilliantly, really!  I’m so proud of you, I hope you don’t think I’m jealous or something silly like that!  I just…I want to do as well as you now, that’s my new goal, and I’m failing miserably!”  Harry knew there probably was a slight element of jealousy that she didn’t want to admit, but patted her back anyway.

“Anyway, Hermione, I didn’t get a chance to tell you last night, but I talked with Dumbledore about his hand – we were right, Curse of the Withering.  Snape’s whipped up a potion, but it’s not permanent.  We don’t…no one can tell how un-permanent it is…” Hermione looked saddened immensely by this, and hugged Harry closer.

“Oh, Harry, that’s awful!  I just can’t imagine!  Dumbledore…” Harry felt the same way.  The Headmaster was such a constant force in life that Harry couldn’t imagine what life would be like without him.  Well, he had a few nightmares about being on-the-run from Voldemort without Dumbledore’s protections, but no real clue as to what it would be like.

On that note, the friends spent the morning in comfortable discussion about the Headmaster’s enlightening lesson.  Hermione seemed most interested in getting to know more about Voldemort so that they could understand him as a person, and Harry promised that he would show his friends the memories.  However, this did bring up a rather disappointing thought to Harry’s mind: what was he going to do about Katie, when the time came for him to ultimately be enemy number one to Voldemort?  Would he risk her as a prime target for his wrath?  Could he protect her?  Should he break things off to keep the wonderful girl, who’d suffered so much, safe?  His afternoon was plagued with these thoughts, the only ones he wouldn’t share with Hermione right now.  The trio spent the evening perusing the various collected memories from Dumbledore as Katie worked on homework and wondered just where her new best friend had run off to.

 

Voldemort did not read the Daily Prophet, believing such things beneath him.  Voldemort made news, he did not read about the actions of less important wizards.  After all, he was the most powerful wizard in the world, and what use were Quidditch results to him?  No, any news of import would undoubtedly revolve around him or his minions anyway, and he likely would have planned it for months.

Bellatrix Lestrange, however, liked to see how the sheep amused themselves in between slaughters.  They were so foolish, dawdling about with their ridiculous sport – such a waste of time, riding broomsticks; the only real sport Bella enjoyed was Muggle-hunting – but she was able to laugh at Fudge’s, now Scrimgeour’s, incompetence and other such amusements.  When the Prophet used to interview Lucius, she thought it hysterical despite her hatred for the man.

Today, however, Bellatrix Lestrange did not find the headline of the Prophet to be very amusing at all.

“WHAT!?  Steal my fortune?  Wha-how?”  Her initial reaction of utter outrage quickly turned to disbelief.  Surely this boy had not one iota of knowledge about pureblood inheritance.  And yet, as she read the article again, more closely, over and over, there it was, spelled out in writing.  She wrote an owl off to Gringotts to be sure, and got an answer that night.

Empty.  Her vault.  Oh, the galleons were meaningless to her, the treasures easily replaced once her Lord overthrew the government and forced the goblins to do his bidding, which he undoubtedly would do.  However, there was one object in her vault that her Lord had entrusted to her.  One of his own treasures that she and Rodolphus had reverently placed in their own vault for safe-keeping.  No one knew they had done so besides Lord Voldemort himself; she was a very trusted servant, above all others, and so this treasure was kept secret.  Indeed, it was a most ancient treasure from the time of the Founders of Hogwarts – priceless, of course, one of the few remaining artifacts of the era.  Despite the fact that it was only from Hufflepuff and not one of Salazar Slytherin’s artifacts, she still understood why her Lord wanted to keep such an object safe.

But now…her face whitened considerably when she realized that she had failed.  For the first time, she had totally and utterly failed at a task set to her by her Lord.  And it was a most important task too, he’d assured her of that.  He could trust no others besides Rodolphus and herself; she knew that without her, Rodolphus would never have been trusted with the object.  No, she was her Master’s favorite, most skilled, a powerful witch and a fearsome opponent.  Her name evoked terror in the hearts of all polite Wizarding society, and much of the less-than-polite Wizarding underworld.  And she failed.  For the first time, she felt fear and trepidation as she prepared herself for announcing her failure to her Master.  It must be done in private, he would not wish others to know about his treasure.

Bellatrix slowly approached the room in Lucius’ Manor – it really reminded Bella of the arrogant man she loathed, her only real competition for her Master’s favor for years – but was interrupted by her sister.

“Bella, did you hear?  It’s awful, that awful boy!  He took half of the estate!  We had a villa in Italy that was just wonderful to visit, lovely view of the Mediterranean, of course, Draco loved it there.  And he took our vineyard in France, can you imagine?  Grapes bred for almost 800 years at Chateau Malfoi and now it’s all in the hands of that terrible Mudblood boy!  And he’s set up some kind of fund administered by goblins – goblins! – that he’s wasting our money on.  And he cleaned yours out entirely!  Claimed that since you have no heir, and with Rodolphus and Rastaban convicted criminals, the estate passes to him!  I couldn’t believe…why, when my Lucius was around, such a thing would never have happened; he’d have stopped that nonsense immediately!”  Cissy spat out all of this extraordinarily quickly.

“Cissy!  I don’t have time for this now!  I must see our Lord, it is of vital importance!”  Narcissa looked downtrodden at this.  She had been a virtual prisoner in her own Manor now ever since the incident at the Ministry.  Lord Voldemort had, because of her husband’s failure to obtain the prophecy, taken over and moved in.  Even her poor, dear little Draco had been Marked and forced into that awful task.  Oh, the whole thing still gave her nightmares, it was truly a mother’s worst fear.  Her baby, all alone, sent on a death mission by Voldemort.  At least she’d talked to Severus – he’d always been so good with Draco, as his godfather.  She’d even gotten an Unbreakable Vow from him – to Narcissa, this just proved his trustworthiness despite Bella’s objections.  Narcissa slowly retreated back to her rooms as her sister left her to talk with her Lord.  Not Narcissa’s Lord; she realized that after Voldemort ordered Draco to his almost assured death.  Never Narcissa’s Lord.

And her beautiful Manor had suffered so…It was once Narcissa’s pride to own a home that every reader of Witch Weekly envied.  Now, however, not even the house elves, which were reduced in number between that awful Potter and Voldemort himself killing them, could keep her Manor immaculate.  Whatever happened to the ranks of the Death Eaters to make them so uncivilized?  Surely when her Lucius was in charge, he never would have let such awful creatures – a werewolf, how awful – into their Manor.  Lucius had spoken with Greyback before, but never let the foul thing in her house!  And he wasn’t technically even a Death Eater, Voldemort at least had the good sense to not want to touch his wand to the foul thing.  But oh!  He did leave a mess behind, and such an awful smell, as well.  Her manor may not ever be the same, a thought which depressed her more each day.

How she longed for the days before Voldemort’s return, she realized.  When Lucius was just a Hogwart’s Governor – well, proxy, really, for his ill father now deceased – and an upstanding, prominent citizen with the Minister’s ear.  Things were so much simpler back then…

“What did you say, Bella?”  Voldemort froze.  Surely he hadn’t heard what he thought just came out of Bellatrix’s mouth.

“My Lord, I’m so sorry –”

“Crucio!”  Bella so rarely felt the sting of her Lord’s curse that the agony tore through her in a thrilling way.  “Repeat.  Yourself.  Now.”  Voldemort’s anger was palpable, terrible, and it was almost more than he could stand not to destroy his most valuable servant where she stood.

“It was Potter!  He stole my vault at Gringotts!  And some of the Malfoy fortune as well!  He is to set up a relief fund for the Mudbloods we attack!”  Bellatrix was on her knees crying now, begging her Lord’s terrible fury – which caused everything in the room to shake horribly – to spare her.

“Are you telling me, Bella, that my treasure – one of my most valuable treasures I entrusted to you – is now in the possession of orphans whose parents and widows whose husbands I’ve killed?  Is that who is now guarding my treasure, Bella?  WIDOWS AND ORPHANS?”  Voldemort’s unnaturally high voice rose in an awful crescendo as he shouted his last words in what must have been a magically amplified scream.  Bellatrix, terrified by his unholy display, could only nod weakly.

“AAAAAHHHHHH!”  Windows shattered and decorations around the room were obliterated as Voldemort’s wrath was fully let loose.  

The Death Eaters stood outside the door to their Lord’s study in fear.  Bangs and noises were made behind those closed doors.  These were not uncommon noises, by any means, but their volume and the duration of their Lord’s anger showed that something very unexpected happened that displeased their Lord greatly.  The doors finally opened as a bloody body was flung through them – sweet Merlin, was that Bellatrix? – and their Lord stalked out.

“Leave her.  We are going to kill Mudbloods.  We’re leaving now.”  Voldemort advanced on the nearest Death Eater and drove his wand into the man’s Dark Mark viciously, turning it dark black with a burning red outline on the surrounding skin; the Death Eater quivered in pain, but was just smart enough to not cry out in pain, which surely would have evoked the wrath of his Lord.

After but a few moments, Voldemort’s loyal minions Apparated to him and he snarled, “Tonight we kill Mudbloods – we will make them afraid to walk openly in the street!  Attack the parents of students at Hogwarts, the ones out of Hogwarts, any you can find!  Leave no survivors this night!  Now, name me victims!”  Voldemort surveyed his Death Eaters, prodding them to speak.

“Sir, the Quidditch rosters for the Hogwarts teams provide many names!  I remember a few from when I attended games with Theodore – Abblebee, Jones, Cauldwell, Hooper, Fleet.”  Voldemort nodded, “Fine, all fine, but more!”

“My Lord, my sons have mentioned a few Ravenclaw Mudbloods who exceed his grades in some classes!  Ackerley, Carmichael, Corner, Entwhistle, and Page!”  Voldemort smiled evilly, “Fine, but more!  Find every Mudblood you can, and attack them!  Harry Potter thinks he will provide relief to our victims with our own money, but we will show him that he will only cause their deaths!”  Voldemort cackled evilly as his Death Eaters planned the attack on their first victims of the night.

 

Harry woke up in a cold sweat – it had been ages since he was drawn to Voldemort; it seemed that his Occlumency was not perfect, and that Voldemort was angrier than he’d ever been.  Harry quickly put on his battle robes – he would not sit back idly this time – and his invisibility cloak as he ran through the portrait to the Headmaster’s Office.

 Tom, why was I able to see Voldemort’s thoughts?  I thought since you were separate that couldn’t happen!  Are you starting to reintegrate?  Harry thought to his constant companion as he raced to the Headmaster.

 No, Harry, I am not sure.  Voldemort can’t send you any visions now, though I could have told you he was angry…there must be some other kind between you.  Harry thought this mightily disturbing.

 Like between our wands?  Harry thought.

 No, that shouldn’t have an effect…of course!  He used your blood!  Together with the rebounded Killing Curse…maybe…he could be some kind of bastardized Horcrux for you or something, I’m not sure!  But it would explain how you can get to his head just as he can get to yours!  Harry was most disturbed by the thought that his own soul was fractured – maybe not as fractured as Voldemort’s, but fractured nonetheless.  However, he had no time to dwell on it as he finally arrived outside Dumbledore’s office.

“Acid Pops!  Open, damn you!”  The gargoyle leapt aside and Harry bounded up the moving stairs and knocked loudly on Dumbledore’s door, unwittingly channeling his magic to create a resounding ‘Boom’ at every knock.  Dumbledore quickly answered his harsh banging to reveal his flowery-patterned lilac pajamas to Harry, who would have found them amusing at any other time.

“Voldemort’s mad about the money – he just found out – and he’s going to attack every Muggle-born and Half-blood he can!  They named a bunch of Hogwarts students families as targets: Jones, Hooper, Fleet, Corner, Entwhistle, and Ackerley.  There were more but I don’t remember!  Please, Professor, we have to help them!”  Harry frantically said.

“Hold on, Harry; you had a vision?”  Dumbledore seemed impossibly calm – did he not understand that because of Harry, hundreds might die?  Well, maybe that was a slight exaggeration, Tom corrected.  

 Shut up, Tom.  Because of what I did, people are going to die – innocent people.  I have to help.  I will not let Voldemort do this!  Harry snarled at his cerebral companion; Tom backed away, realizing when Harry wasn’t in the mood to hear a logical argument.

“Yes, I had a vision!  Voldemort’s attacking, you have to get them to safety!”  Dumbledore once again looked his age – it was happening more often these days.

“Harry, I have no way to fend off dozens of simultaneous attacks; at best, the Order members would just be additional victims.  I will do what I can, but I am afraid that letters will not reach most in time, if it is such an imminent attack as you say.”  Dumbledore seemed to look honestly sorry as he gently broke this news to Harry, but Harry didn’t notice.

“Wha- so you’re just going to condemn them to death?  You’re not even going to try?  What the bloody hell is wrong with you?  Don’t you realize that this is my fault?  Where’s the bloody list of student addresses – I know you have one!  I’ll save them myself!”  Harry shoved past the old wizard into his office, and looked around frantically until his eyes fell on a magical parchment and quill sitting on a desk in a far corner of the office.  He raced over there and rifled through the lengthy parchment to the current year’s Hogwarts letter mailing list.  He looked up all the students whose name he could remember and then made for the door, only to find Dumbledore once more in his way.

“Harry, I understand what you’re feeling –” Dumbledore started.  Harry noticed Phineas Nigellus, the former Black Headmaster, roll his eyes – he always said that teenagers hated to be understood, preferring to dwell on their own angst.

“No you don’t!  I caused this!  It’s all my fault, and I will not allow others to suffer just because Voldemort can’t get to me!  Now either alert the Order or get out of my way.”  He growled this last sentence, and there was magical power in his words as he issued a stern command, enough to even cause Dumbledore some concern as the hair on his arms rose slightly.

“I’m afraid that I cannot allow that, Harry.”  Dumbledore stood firm with his arms crossed across his chest.  Harry’s eyes narrowed and he spun around, his eyes falling upon the window behind Dumbledore’s chest.  He leapt onto and off of the stately desk, firing a powerful Bludgeoning Hex to shatter the window before he took a swan dive out the window and off the tower.

Dumbledore’s eyes widened as he stood dumb-founded.  He turned to Fawkes, who was also staring out the window in surprise, and said, “Well…that was most unexpected.”  He rushed to the window to see Harry wave his wand as he fell, slowing his momentum enough that he was able to land on his feet and take off at a run for the edge of the wards.

“A most extraordinary display of magic, Mr. Potter…” Dumbledore said to himself.  He shot a silver phoenix out of his wand and sent it along to Minerva, letting her know that Harry had left the castle without permission and that he was attempting to rectify the situation.  Hurrying, he bustled out of his office after Fawkes perched on his shoulder.

After hitting the edge of the Hogwarts grounds in the forest and Apparating away to the first of his classmates’ homes, he found himself in the yard of the Ackerley family, and that he’d arrived almost simultaneously with two Death Eaters, which should have been more than enough to deal with the two Muggles.  He almost subconsciously had shifted to his ‘Tom’ physical persona with the help of his Metamorph Medal and unleashed his arsenal at the Death Eaters, who were previously oblivious to his presence.  Stunning them easily with one of his modified stunners, he left with a soft ‘pop’ – it got softer every time – and found himself almost instantly in the yard of the Jones’.  He knew Megan from a few of his classes.  

Tears filled his eyes when he saw the Dark Mark hovering sinisterly, but then he heard spell-fire from inside and hoped that he wasn’t too late; the Jones’ must have been attacked before the Ackerley family, because he hadn’t taken long to disable them – not long enough for the damage present to occur.

“Crucio!  Squeal, you Mudblood bitch!”  The Death Eater laughed until he was hit by Harry’s Bone-Shattering Spell directly in the upper back; Harry should have cringed when he was sprayed with blood, gore, and bone fragments that exploded out of the man, but felt nothing.  The other Death Eater turned and Harry got his first real duel of the evening.

“Who are you?  Crucio!  Everbero!”  Harry easily stepped to the side of the passing Unforgivable curse and silently sent off a powerful Bludgeoning curse just as he was hit by the Death Eater’s own.  The Death Eater’s hit Harry’s right hip and he knew it would leave a nasty bruise, but Harry’s sent the obviously amateur Death Eater through the exterior wall of the Jones’ house.  Harry noticed that one parent was lying still on the floor, but had to move on and could spare nothing but an “Episkey,” for the conscious parent.  He quietly Disapparated to the next of his classmates’ houses.

It was quite obvious that this house belonged to two wizards, as there was no car in the driveway or other suspiciously Muggle trappings; must have been a second generation Muggle-born or Half-blood.  It was the Corner household, Harry knew – Michael dated Ginny last year and was now dating Cho.  His parents were barricaded in the house with the Death Eaters assaulting the outside.

“Reducto!”  One Death Eater – this one’s voice Tom recognized – yelled and laughed as the parents shrieked in terror and the door exploded inward.  There were likely once wards around this house that were battered down previously in the attack, and now the house itself was taking the brunt of the assault.  Tom recollected that this Death Eater’s name was Gibbon – a new recruit before Tom’s fall, but he could have improved since.  When his companion shot off a spell, Harry identified him as Amycus Carrow, who would be a somewhat challenging opponent for Harry.  Unfortunately for him, one of the Death Eaters must have spotted him out of the corner of his eye and sent a curse that made Harry dive out of the way.  His hip flared angrily at this abuse of its already wounded status.

“Reducto!”  “Crucio!”  The two Death Eaters shouted before he was able to recover well enough to fire off any retaliatory spells.  He leapt out of the way of the Unforgivable, which put him right in the path of the Reductor curse, which sent him flying as it impacted his chest.  With a slight groan, he forced himself up and silently erected an Absolvo shield that absorbed the two additional Reductor curses sent his way.

“Expulso!” Harry said, which flung both of the Death Eaters against the house, but didn’t really damage them.

“Crucio!”  He heard one spell launched at him, but saw two – Carrow must have nonverbally let one loose – Harry avoided the effects of both with judicious use of an Imprimis shield that resounded like a gong as Carrow’s spell impacted it – his hip wouldn’t allow him to dodge very well any more.

“Soporo!”  Harry yelled out his blue stunning spell, which quickly struck Gibbon and knocked him flat; he won’t be getting up for about two weeks, Harry thought ruefully.  His thoughts were interrupted as Carrow once more got the best of him with his injury and he took a fierce blow to the head.

“Crucio!”  Harry writhed on the ground as his entire body erupted in pain, recovering enough to hear laughter when the curse let up.

Shakily getting up, his hip disagreeing, and trying not to fall back down, Harry barely noticed when a spell impacted his left arm; he only saw blood squirt from his stump and hardly felt any pain at all until he was back on his back – had Carrow hit him again?  He hadn’t noticed – and saw a bleeding forearm that looked oddly familiar lying beside him.  He realized that he was back in his own body when he saw his arm, but had not the strength to hide from Carrow any longer.  He tried to get back up but was quite incapable of it – the ground seemed to be in at least two places at once and moving.  

“That’s quite enough, Amycus.”  Said another familiar voice; Harry was unfortunately in no state to identify it.

“Dumbledore!  How’d you get – I’m outta here!”  A sharp ‘crack’ was heard as he left.

“Harry, Harry, can you hear me?”  Harry could indeed hear the Headmasters – there were four that he counted, all in identical blue robes, how odd – but merely groaned in response.  Dumbledore gently levitated Harry and picked up his arm, surrounding it before touching it to Harry and causing them both to disappear as the portkey removed them to Hogwarts infirmary.

Harry came back to consciousness without opening his eyes as he reflected back and tried to remember what happened to lead him to the infirmary.  He surmised that was where he was located due to the intense pain that wracked his body, the hospital-clean smell, and the comfortable beds – the latter two ruling out Death Eater capture, thank Merlin.  A small groan escaped his lips, and a concerned Madam Pomfrey greeted his eyes when he finally opened them.

“Don’t you move, Mr. Potter!  You had severe head trauma!  Can you see alright?”  Deciding to use Tom’s charm, he smiled through the pain and said, “I don’t know – are you really an angel that somehow healed me in the Hogwarts infirmary?”  She rolled her eyes and cast a few spells over him.

“Quite funny, I’m sure, Mr. Potter.  I really couldn’t believe the state you were in!  If it were anyone else I’d have been surprised at their survival, but you do seem to be able to bounce back from terrible injuries like no other I’ve seen!”  As memories flashed before him, mostly thanks to Tom, who’d stayed slightly more coherent than himself after the blow to the head, he questioned his state more directly.

“How’s my arm?  And my hip and chest were hit pretty bad too.”  She nodded at him.

“I’m surprised you remember that much after your massive concussion.  Do try to avoid curses to the head, next time, by the way.  Luckily, Severus knew of the Dark curse that detached your arm and split your side open and he was able to quickly counter it.  He said that with liberal use of dittany you may be able to avoid terrible scarring, but you’ve enough of that already, so maybe you don’t care.  Your ribs – five of them were cracked, by the way – are fully healed, as is your hip.  Your hip, however, was a complicated process that’s still healing fully, and I want you to use a cane for at least two days.  Your arm also had some nerve damage that’s yet to be healed, you’ll notice decreased sensation and an inability to control your muscles well.  That’s what we’ll be fixing today, Mr. Potter.”  He looked at his reattached arm and smiled.

“Thank you, Madam Pomfrey, your marvelous talents are much appreciated.  OW!”  He groaned in a yell as she moved him.

“Potter, why didn’t you tell me the pain potions wore off!  Wait just a moment!”  She rushed off and came back with a foul smelling potion – a sure tell that it was potent – which Harry quaffed with a shudder as it slowly slid down his throat.  Vile.

“Get used to it, you’ll be taking that one for some time, I expect, with that arm of yours.  Regrowing nerves is slow – slower than bones, even – and quite painful.”  Pain?  What’s pain?  Heck, shoot me through a window right now, I’ll be fine!  Harry said with a bit of a goofy smile.

“Ah, that’s the potion setting in, then,” she said with a look at Harry’s glazed eyes.  He tried to fight the lightheaded stupor and succeeded marginally.

“How long before I can be set free with a cane, Madam?  And what day is it, anyway?”  He pushed out – that potion really was potent!

“At least two days, I’ll expect, Potter.  It is Tuesday morning, by the way, you were only unconscious here about thirty hours or so.  Now lie back while I fetch that Nerve Growth Stimulator, it’s somewhere in the back.”  She left Harry alone with Tom.

Don’t lecture me, Tom, I know it was stupid.  Harry said defeated.  Tom merely smirked.

I know it was, Harry.  But your intentions were certainly good.  And I admit that with all we know about Voldemort and the memories we’ve seen, along with the fact that you had to strip his followers’ fortunes to get at the Horcrux, we can’t help but feel responsible for his actions.  But we are NOT responsible, Harry.  You know that.  Harry, deep down, did, but still felt terrible.

I know, but so many deaths…they could have been avoided if only I hadn’t gone after the Horcrux…

We had to get it eventually, Harry.  Deaths would have resulted in any case – you know Voldemort well enough to know that he couldn’t forgive that without a massive killing spree.  And you did save several families from certain death when you went out.  You tried, and succeeded, to an extent, where even Dumbledore was not capable of doing a thing.  That was a great achievement, Harry.  It also shows you that you need to continue your training, and step it up a notch.  Harry knew this to be true.  He swallowed the potion from Madam Pomfrey when she returned, and then saw Professor Dumbledore, looking grim, walk in the Hospital Wing.

“How are you feeling, Harry?”  He began softly.

“Terrible, sir.  But I’d have gladly suffered a lot more.”  Harry firmly replied.

“I know, Harry.  One of your great strengths is your amazing empathy and ability to care beyond almost anyone I’ve ever met.  I am sorry, Harry, that I could not do more to help you.”  Harry felt tears in his eyes and blinked them away as he thought of all the victims.

“How many deaths?”  Was all he managed to choke out.

“Thirty-four, now.  Several more are still in St. Mungo’s, including three of which who owe their survival to you.”  Harry looked away, shamefully.  Three survivors thanks to him.  Seemed pretty insignificant next to the thirty-four deaths.

“It was stupid.  It was rash, and I…I just couldn’t stand the thought of sitting around, even though I knew I couldn’t really make a difference.”  Dumbledore nodded seriously.

“You’ll find that patience and the acceptance of one’s own lack of power is a most difficult lesson to learn.  Heading out wands blazing is an appealing option, but one that generally ends with a trip to either a hospital or a morgue.  Watching a student that one is very fond of laying near death in a Hospital Wing is the only thing I’ve found more difficult.”  Tears threatened Harry’s eyes once again at the bitter sting of disappointment in Dumbledore’s voice.

“However, Harry, it is a mistake that I completely understand and can sympathize with.  Rest assured, you did quite well – better than I could have hoped.  Even Mad-Eye was impressed with some of your actions – a few Death Eaters have yet to wake up, much to his delight,” Harry fought a grin at this, “and you only fell once previously injured to one of Voldemort’s own Inner Circle Death Eaters, Amycus Carrow.”  Harry nodded as though this were new information; the Carrows had kept out of Azkaban, Harry remembered from the night of Voldemort’s return, and must not have been idle in that time, if Amycus’ skill was indicative.

“He was quite good, Professor…very accurate when he threw curses, and he knew more than a few.  I probably could have beaten him if it weren’t for the hip injury, but it would’ve been close.  I was lucky he was toying with me and wasn’t throwing around Unforgivables at every turn, or I wouldn’t be here.”  Dumbledore nodded seriously.

“Indeed, as it is, your severed left arm was used as a portkey to help us arrive here, and you were quite incoherent.”  Harry laughed aloud – Only Dumbledore would use my severed arm as an illegal portkey! – before realizing that it hurt his head.

“I’m sorry, Professor, but my arm?  A portkey?  Really?  What a night!  I distinctly remember four of you picking me off the grounds – somehow there were two grounds that moved awfully – but I must have blacked out before the portkey.”  Harry fought to keep from chuckling.

“I believe you had, Harry.  Now, your good friends have delayed their breakfast long enough and Ms. Granger will miss her first class of the day if I do not leave you to them, so I shall do just that.  We will talk later, Harry, rest assured, about your punishment for leaving school grounds.  As well as your ability to Apparate without having had any instruction.” Harry merely agreed without moving his head, not quite sure how he was going to explain that away.  He was anxious to see his friends, anyway.  Ron, Hermione, and – to his great pleasure – Katie all walked in after Dumbledore left and told them it was alright.

“Harry!”  Hermione clung gently to his right side, while Katie took his left and burrowed wonderfully into his chest.  Ron looked bemused at this.

“Geez…I’ll get injured too if I can get two girls to be all over me!”  Ron joked, causing Harry to smile but try not to laugh, which hurt.

“Sorry, mate, but I guess I get all the luck.”  Hermione rolled her eyes at this.

“Oh, Harry, I was so worried – and I’d been so mean to you all week and we’d just made up!”  Harry rubbed her back comfortingly.

“Should I get used to seeing you like this if I’m to be your friend like these two?”  Katie indicated Ron and Hermione as Harry grinned.

“I’m afraid so…Madam Pomfrey was just telling Dumbledore that she was going to need a special Harry Potter ward for extreme trauma cases – I suggested taking over Snape’s office, but she said it was too moldy…” All three of his guests burst into laughter as he smiled.

“So what happened, Harry?  No one told us anything!  You just disappeared at night!  We thought for sure Death Eaters tried to get even by getting you…but…the news…” Ron trailed off awkwardly; unsure of whether Harry had heard the horrific news.  Harry swallowed and replied.

“I know.  I had a vision, despite my work with Occlumency.  Voldemort was…understandably upset at my actions.  Angrier than I’ve ever seen him, in fact.  He was planning an attack on the families of virtually every Muggle-born and Half-blood.  Though looking back on it, he doesn’t really have the manpower for that – but he was going to attack a lot of them.  Anyway, I went to Dumbledore immediately when I woke up to let him know.  I told him, but he said that if Voldemort was going after so many, he really had little power to stop him, since I only knew a few of the victims.  Anyway, I got really angry and frustrated and became…very stupid.  I forced my way into his office to find out where the students I’d heard he was going to attack lived.  Then, I kinda…left his office –”

“He just let you leave, if you were so upset?”  Hermione inquired.  Too damn clever for her own good, Tom said with a smile.

“Er…not exactly.  I…dove out the window, sorta.”  Her eyes narrowed sinisterly with Katie’s while Ron burst out in laughter. “Go on,” Hermione managed to say through her glare.

“Well, then I ran to the edge of the wards…and Apparated to the first house.  I caught those Death Eaters by surprise and stunned both of them and left for the next house.  The Death Eaters were already inside and had knocked one person unconscious – I think he was a muggle – while the witch was just starting to fend them off.  I knocked one out, but took a nasty hit from the other before I threw him through a wall.  I left for the third house – that’s where it really hit the fan.  There were two Death Eaters there fighting a witch and wizard.  There must have been wards that the Death Eaters had just stripped down, as they began blasting the house right when I arrived.  These guys were more powerful, I think one of them might have been Inner Circle or close to it.  Anyway, after a fight where I aggravated my hurt hip, I knocked one out.  The other got me good, though – he was pretty quick with flinging Dark curses.  Dumbledore said he was Amycus Carrow.  Anyway, he hit me in the head, gave me a concussion so my memory after that’s not so great.  He ended up cutting my arm off with a Dark curse that I guess made it pretty hard to get back on.”  Harry finished his tale for his stunned friends.

“He cut off your arm?  Wicked!  Do you still have the scar?”  Harry grinned and made to show him, but Katie had clung ever tighter to that side and didn’t seem any keener on letting him go than Hermione, who thought he might just dive out the window if she did.

“Harry Potter, are you suicidal?  No, seriously, answer me right now, are you bloody crazy?”  He meekly responded, “No”, afterwards she slapped him hard across the face.

“Then if you ever, EVER, pull a crazy stunt like that again and survive, I’ll kill you.  I’m not joking, Harry.  Dead.  I’ll make the Death Eaters look tame.  And I’ll use the Black Library to do it.”  She looked deadly serious, so Harry wrapped his arm around her and whispered, “Okay, I promise to be slightly less stupid in the future.”  She smiled weakly at him.

“Alright, then, good.  In that case, I took the liberty of collecting the assignments you missed yesterday, and I can deliver today’s after classes, so expect me – don’t be indecent or something.  I’m sure Ron can help you if you have trouble.  Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have class.”  She marched off, weighted down by her usual load of books and parchment.

“Mental, that one, as always.  Listen, mate,” Ron put his hand on Harry’s shoulder in a display of manly affection, “If you keep going out on crazy adventures without me, my life’s going to be pretty boring.  So let me know next time, and we can nearly get killed together like old times.  Anyway, while you’re in here think about Quidditch tryouts – the whole house is talking about it constantly!  Er…I’ll leave you two alone, I’ve got to do some Transfiguration essay anyway.”  Ron gave his friend one last smirk as he glanced at Harry and Katie, then quickly retreated.

“I’m glad you’re alright, Harry.”  She moved up and kissed him tenderly for a moment.  “Because if you’d died before our Hogsmeade date, I’d have brought you back so I could kill you.  I need to get to class, I’m going to be late already, but I’ll visit you later, okay?”

“Okay…I could really use someone like you to nurse me back to health, I think.”  He said flirtatiously with a grin.

“Don’t you have Madam Pomfrey for that?”  She said in retaliation.  In response, he grabbed the front of her blouse and gently pulled her in for another, longer and more passion-filled kiss.

“You’d better hope not.”  He said when finished.  She rolled her eyes and waved to him on her way out, leaving him alone with a pile of homework and “suggested reading” from Hermione.  

The next week of school was indicative of the general pace of the sixth year, though Harry had to learn the material in the Hospital Wing until he was released before dinner on Wednesday.  Nonverbal spells became the standard and were expected in Transfiguration, Charms, and Defense Against the Dark Arts.  Professor McGonagall was expanding into advanced theory on large-scale Transfiguration; she had conjured several large chunks of marble that groups of students were expected to transfigure into various objects and later animals, with which little success was had.  Harry worked hard with all the members of his group, including Ron but not Hermione, so that by the end of the class they had all succeeded at changing the block somehow, which was better than any other group.  Ron, in fact, was doing best of all except Harry, and by the end of the class was almost on par with Hermione – at her complement of his skills, he reddened considerably as Harry grinned sadistically at his embarrassment.  

Professor Flitwick had moved beyond review material – all of which was now supposed to be done nonverbally, of course – and had moved on to more advanced Charms.  They had first worked on the Bubble-Head Charm whose effects Harry knew so well from the Second Task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and on Friday had just begun the Aguamenti charm and were promised a quiz on Monday – five gallons of water had to be quickly created nonverbally, and it was taxing to many of the students, some of whom were even taxed by nonverbal spells to begin with.  In fact, the only relief for these students was Herbology, where everyone swore loudly as they were seized by a Venomous Tentacula or other deadly fauna.

Professor Snape gave them no relief, either; not that such was expected.  He was a very decent teacher, and quite obviously more knowledgeable than even Remus when it came to the Dark Arts, but was always foul.  He took particular delight in his lessons about defending from nonverbal spells, and ridiculed Harry for no reason.

“Potter, a spell with red light is shot at you, what is the best course of action?”  Snape barked at him.

“Is the curse blood red or lighter red?”  Harry asked to clarify.

“It doesn’t matter, your prevarication cost you precious moments and you are now writhing in agony under the Cruciatus Curse.”  He snapped as he continued on.  Excuse me, I’ve been shot at by the Cruciatus enough to recognize it from a Stupefy, you git.  Harry was always certain to keep his face blank – he knew that even a slight roll of his eyes would earn him a detention from a Snape-on-the-prowl.

Harry had waited all week for the man to be in a less foul mood – he was constantly correcting poor Neville, who was just now beginning to get a basic grasp on nonverbal Lumos spells – but eventually just confronted the man on Friday.

“Professor Snape, sir?”

“I believe class is over, Potter.  Leave.”  Snape said without looking up from a paper on his desk.

“Excuse me, Professor, but Professor Dumbledore said I might talk to you for a moment.”  Snape rolled his eyes and finally looked up.

“Talk.  You are officially wasting my time,” he waited until Harry began speaking to say, “Now.”

“Thank you, sir.  Professor Dumbledore recommended, when I said that I’d like to get to know a bit more about my parents, that you might share some memories of them with me.”  Harry didn’t even know why he was bothering, but Tom liked a challenge, and charming Severus Snape would certainly be that.

“No.  Leave.”  Snape looked back down at his paper and Harry had to hide back a grin.

“Well, Professor, it’s just that the other teachers he recommended all taught them as students, whereas you knew them as peers, and I thought that I might get a more complete picture of them as people if I saw them without teachers around.”  At this, Snape actually stopped writing and actually looked at Harry, peering into his eyes in a way that made him unconsciously lock down with his Occlumency, forcing thoughts from his mind.

“I highly doubt you want to know what an arrogant fool your father was, Potter.”

“Actually, I do.  I realize he wasn’t perfect, Professor, and I could never expect him to be.  But all I get from the other Professors is that James Potter was a phenomenal Quidditch player and Transfiguration student, and Lily Evans was a Potions Mistress in the making and a brilliant Charms student.  But they didn’t really interact with them between classes, when James was acting like an idiot like you say.  I want to know them, flaws and all.  And I’m sorry that they were mean and cruel to you, Professor, I know how hard it is to be bullied, but I’d rather know James as a bully than think him a great person.  If that makes sense.”  Harry saw that Snape had entirely stopped what he was doing and had given Harry his complete attention.  Now we’re cooking, Sevvie!  Tom cackled with success.

“I never said that your mother was mean or cruel, Potter.  Quite the opposite, in fact.”  Severus finally said softly after a long moment.

“It sounds like you knew her well – how did that happen, if you were in Slytherin and she was in Gryffindor?”  Snape looked into Harry’s eyes with an odd expression on his face – Lily’s eyes!  Not my eyes, but my mothers! – Harry finally realized why Snape so disliked looking him in the eyes.

“I knew her before we came to Hogwarts.  She lived near me, and I witnessed her first display of accidental magic when she was young.  I told her what she was, and began to teach her what little of magic I knew.  Now get out, Potter.”  Snape finished in an even quieter voice.  Harry was quite certain that he’d never told this to anyone, and while his reaction wasn’t as emotional as Slughorn’s the previous evening when he asked about Lily – Slughorn had tearfully pulled up a chair and regaled Harry with hours of tales that Harry finally had to end at curfew – it was even more satisfying.  Harry made to leave the classroom as Snape had a few last words.

“And your father was always an idiot.  And this doesn’t mean I despise you any less.  You’re as arrogant and stupid as your father.”  Harry smirked as he walked away back up to the Gryffindor common room.  It wasn’t until he saw Katie’s smile at him and gave her an easy smile back that he realized what the odd emotion in Snape’s eyes was.  Did Snape like Lily Evans?