Chapter Thirteen: Engulfing Flames
A cauldron was placed roughly on the desk in front of Harry. The sound echoed throughout the sparse and quiet room. Harry winced slightly at the harsh noise. The pale Professor before Harry assessed him with narrowed eyes. Harry met his gaze. Their silent battle of wills lasted only a few minutes before Snape broke it off.
"See that you do not destroy my classroom with this cauldron, Mr. Potter." Snape whispered snidely.
Harry looked around the room. His eyes flickered briefly. "I would not dream of destroying such a well decorated achievement!"
Laughter filled the room when the other students heard this. Even the Slytherin side joined in. Harry felt pleased at this response, though he was not entirely sure why. Harry grinned and shrugged his shoulders at Snape.
"Remember, it is only by courtesy that you are here." Snape whispered, so only Harry could hear. "Dumbledore would not hesitate to send you, let's say, out to the coast, if you catch my drift."
Just as equally quiet, Harry replied. "The old man is blind. He won't send me away."
Snape leaned closer, causing Harry to feel physically repulsed. "Do you really want to see?"
Harry leaned away from the greasy man, and smiled slightly. "I believe you have a class to teach, Professor."
"Thank-you for your permission." Snape voiced loudly. He could already see the students' curious faces, as they silently wondered how Harry had managed to insult him without receiving punishment. "Mr. Potter, I do believe we will be discussing your behavior with the Headmaster."
"I look forward to speaking with the delightful old man." Harry stated pleasantly, though his eyes revealed another sentiment.
On the other side of the room, Draco Malfoy was laughing uncontrollable. "You're too kind Potter. He's ancient."
"Malfoy," Snape shouted. "You will be in detention with me every Wednesday… for six weeks."
Malfoy paled. "Professor!"
"This is not for debate." Snape said forcibly, as he walked to his desk. "Now, Potter, you will be paired with Granger-."
"Prof-." Ron Weasley started
Snape angrily slammed his hands on to the red-head's desk. "Weasley, do not tempt me, or you will be in detention until you graduate!"
Weasley's face paled, along with the majority of the classes'. They had never seen Snape in such a wrath, as he was in this particular moment. Gradually, Snape regained much of his composure. Eying the class with contempt, he pointed at the chalkboard behind him.
"There is today's potion. It is a rather simple Befuddlement Draught. You should not be able mess it up." He paused. "The potion is not going to make itself!"
The students scrambled to start preparations for the potion. The bushy haired Granger moved to take a place at his desk. Her eyes refused to look at him, instead opting to stare at the cauldron. Harry sighed loudly, as he stared at the instructions written on the board. His eyes then shifted to his partner.
"We can make this painless." He said casually, as he placed the first ingredient into the cauldron.
Hermione looked up at him. "I agree. We will just make the potion and only speak when necessary."
Harry nodded. "And doing thus, we will survive." Harry noticed Ron, who was looking furtively at them. "And your boyfriend will also be happy. Especially when he sees you are unharmed and remained a loyal follower of the 'light'."
"He needs to learn to trust me." Hermione said quietly, refusing to even acknowledge Ron's looks of concern. "I can take care of myself."
"So you can." Harry stated. "Draco has told me about you… mostly about how a deranged woman in third year almost killed him."
Hermione blushed. "I didn't even hit him that hard."
Harry suppressed his laughter. "To hear him tell it, he was almost beaten to an inch of his life."
"Sounds like Draco. That same year, he claimed a Hippogriff almost killed him when he only received a scratch."
He smiled fondly at this, peering over at his friend. "That is Draco for you."
Hermione's brow creased. "You are different than I thought you would be."
"What is different?"
"I guess I expected you to be more like Malfoy."
"My father would never allow that." Harry dropped another ingredient into the potion. "He does not approve of all of Draco's traits. But he was suitable as a playmate."
"It must have been an interesting childhood, besides the outings." Hermione said pointedly, when she reached the last part of her sentence. "I can not comprehend doing the things that you have done. And you act as if you were almost normal."
"I don't think it is supposed to be turning this shade of orange." Harry said suddenly, removing the focus off himself.
Hermione muttered something under her breath, and began to immediately remedy the situation. Her actions were just in time, as Snape came immediately over to their table. Harry smiled at the disappointment he read on Snape's face, as the potion was quickly corrected by Granger. The unhygienic Professor sulked back to his desk from where he continued to glare at their table.
'He still thinks I want to wreck his damp dungeon,' Harry thought, as he gave a slight wave in Snape's direction, causing the Professor's face to turn a deeper shade of scarlet. 'When I return home, there is going to be some changes. His act is too good.'
Over to the Slytherin side, Harry saw that Draco was amusing himself at his partner, Neville Longbottom's, expense. Their potion suddenly began to spew over their table, utterly destroying it. Snape, who was already in a sour mood, after fixing the mess, began to chew out the round faced boy, rather then Draco.
"Everyone back to work!" Snape shouted after he had thoroughly chewed out Longbottom.
Harry did not need to be told twice. He knew that he had pushed the potion Professor perhaps a little too hard. 'If he is not loyal to my father, he would have no qualms in poisoning me,' he thought quietly. With that last thought, he returned his attention to Granger, who was finishing off their potion.
The Headmaster startled slightly when the fire in his hearth changed to a sudden green hue. Dumbledore rose from his seat and waited, until a person appeared within the green flames. Out stepped Alastor Moody, his face set in a grim fashion. His clothes were in a state of disarray.
"Albus, we have a situation." Moody said between deep gasps. "Voldemort is in London. He's striking Diagon Alley, as we speak. He's moving toward the Ministry of Magic."
Dumbledore's eyes widened. "Go ahead of me. I will be along shortly with a few of the aurors' sent to guard Harry."
"Is that wise?" Mad-eye asked doubtfully.
"Tom is the greater threat at the moment." Dumbledore said briskly, as he glided to his studies door. "We do not have time to wait, Alastor."
Moody curtly nodded his head. "After this, there is no hiding the fact we exist from the Muggles. They can see the flames just as clearly as we can."
Dumbledore paused and looked back at his old friend. "Secrets do not last forever. It was inevitably that one day would come when we could not hide our existence from them. That day is today. One can never say, but it just might be that we will need Muggles to win this war. Afterwards, we will pick up the pieces."
Secretly, Mad-eye wondered what Muggles could possibly do to aid in the fight against the Dark Lord. He did not express his question orally. Instead, he returned to the fireplace and muttered "Ministry of Magic" before disappearing into the green flames.
Dumbledore did not even wait to see Moody away. He had more important matters to attend to. First, he would pay a quick visit to James Potter, who had to remain, before gathering the necessary Aurors for the stand against Voldemort. He would catch James just before Harry's potion class let out. He was not disappointed to find James waiting patiently by the door to the classroom.
"James, I need you to keep an extra careful watch on Harry." Dumbledore gazed at the door that Harry was beyond. "Voldemort is attacking London. I have thoughts that this move may a diversion for recapturing Harry. Be extra wary, especially since I will be taking some of the Aurors posted to Harry with me. It is the perfect ruse for Voldemort to act."
"I can help-." James began stubbornly.
"It is far more important that you remain with Harry. If you were to suddenly disappear, he would know something was happening." Dumbledore sighed. "We do not need him acting against us, especially at the same time as Voldemort."
James's eyes still bespoke of stubbornness. "I will stay. Just let me know if you need my help."
"I will inform you immediately." Dumbledore turned, as he said this and with a slight pause he left the other man to his thoughts.
Harry was grateful that potions was finally over. Once outside the classroom, he was greeted by James, and together they began to walk to Harry's next class. Divinations, a subject, that Harry personally despised as it had made his life hell. On the way, he astutely noticed a change in James's normal behavior. 'Something is off.' Harry thought. Images flashed before his mind as he guessed at the possible reasons.
"Your behavior is different." Harry finally stated. Curiosity had won out on his need to distance himself from this man.
James looked at Harry out of the corner of his eyes. "Why would you think that?"
"You are agitated." Harry stated with an eerie calm. "What is happening?"
"Nothing." James answered shortly, effectively closing the conversation.
They continued to the divination tower in silence. Harry continued to try to read the emotions of the older man. Along the way, Harry also noted that his usually amount of Auror escorts were drastically diminished.
"My father is busy."
James turned his head toward Harry. "The stairs lead up to the classroom. I will see you afterwards."
Harry smiled. "I hit the mark. It must be immense since Dumbledore has removed so many of my guards."
"I will see you later." James said, dodging Harry's statement entirely.
Without another choice, Harry ascended the circular stairs. Once in the room, he was hit by the strong aroma of incense and other spices. His mind became numbed to the point of being in a sleeplike trance. He took a seat at a small round table that was in the far back of the classroom. The amount of students was smaller then his other classes, and he guessed that others found the art of Divination to be a full of rubbish too.
"One person cannot save the world." Harry whispered, so quietly that he was sure no one would hear. "If the people can't stand for themselves, they deserve whatever fate they are handed."
To his left, Harry heard a rustling. Dramatically, the professor made her appearance. Her eyes were magnified by her rather large glasses, while her crazy hair framed her face. Everything about her was comical.
"Oh, my dears, how pleasant to see you all in the-." Professor Trelawney ended the sentence with a high-pitched scream.
Lavender Brown, the girl that Harry had set beside once during dinner, sat straighter and excitement etched her face. "What did you see?"
"I see a half goat, half god. On the Tarot cards this creature is know as the devil." She said, her eyes fixed on Harry.
Lavender and Parvati's mouths dropped at this exclamation. Excitedly, they turned to each and began to whisper at a frantic pace. Before Parvati asked, "What does the devil mean, Professor?"
"The devil, my dear, is a creature of great power. He represents enslavement to less then moral desires." Trelawney waited for suspense. "It is considered by some to be the worst Tarot card to draw, even worse then the Death."
'You picked the wrong card for me,' Harry thought silently. 'Death is more suiting. Death's tale to the Fool will come true.'
Trelawney's voice continued. "Unfortunately, today my inner eye sees us working with our crystal balls, and not the cards. If you would come and each take crystal ball then return to your seats. Rather then working pairs, we have enough room to work individually. On a sheet of paper, you will record what you see as you gaze."
Harry rose and took a crystal ball then return instantly to his seat. He had no desire to talk with the Loon that had created a prophecy concerning himself. Once seated, he found himself staring moodily into the crystal ball. All he could see was swirling puffs of smoke fixed in a continuous dance. His thoughts strayed to his father. Silently, he whispered a slight prayer to no god in particular for his father's safety.
'He can't die, why are you concerned.' He thought to himself.
Harry jumped when the smoke suddenly cleared in his crystal ball. He instantly recognized the location as Diagon Alley, though it had changed from the last time he had seen it. The buildings were ablaze, creating the inferno of hell. He could feel the heat as it hit his unprotected face. Before him, Death Eaters and Aurors cut each other down. The air reeked with the familiar smell of blood and burning human flesh. Even Harry gagged at the odor. The streets and sidewalks were stained with blood.
Ghastly screams filled this hell. He could hear the screams of the innocents mixed with those of the aggressors. Untransformed werewolves attacked everything in their sights as if they were in their wolfish forms. Harry's stomach turned as he watched a little girl come racing from a burning building. She looked with horror at the carnage that greeted her small eyes. She stood transfixed. A werewolf, Harry knew as Fenrir Greyback, raced toward her. In that last moment, before the two collided, her blue eyes met Harry's. Her mouth moved, mouthing the words 'help me.'
Harry could not stop the eminent impact. His eyes closed tightly, as the little girl transformed in his mind into another person he had once know.
"Harry, why can't we be friends anymore?" She had asked him quietly. Her blue eyes expressed her hurt at his sudden rejection. Her six year old mind could not fathom his reasons, which had been illusive.
"I'm going away." He had answered. 'You're a muggle,' he answered in his mind. Though he was her age, he seemed to tower over her.
That next day he had moved to eliminate his target, a young woman who came from muggle parent. He did even know her name. He had never made a point in asking for his targets' names. And as he fled that mudblood's house, his friend had been there. He remembered how her eyes had changed when she saw his blood drenched dagger. No six year old was ever meant to see this.
"Harry, what did you do to Miss Philips?" Her voice quivered.
"Go home."
"What did you do to her?" Tears moistened her cheeks. "She was always so nice to everyone. What did she do to you?" Her voice had risen to the shrill pitch of an upset child.
'What do I do?' Harry thought desperately. He did not know the oblivate charm yet. His father's words suddenly echoed through his mind, giving him advice, though it was not what he had wanted to hear. 'Kill her.'
"I'm sorry, Lucy" He whispered, moving quickly. She did not have time to react, nor could her small untrained body compete with his highly trained muscles. He felt her body go limp in his arms. Her blood coated his hands and robes, as he held her. Slowly, he laid her small framed body to the paved ground. Her braided pig tails stuck diagonally out from under her still head, absorbing their owner's blood, turning her blonde hair an unusual shade of violet.
"I'm sorry." He repeated, before he turned away.
Harry jerked his gaze away from the crystal ball, his hot breath causing its surface to cloud. The students stared eagerly, however Trelawney was not about to give Harry the spotlight. Instead, she ordered all the students back to their gazing, completely ignoring Harry's shaking frame and pale complexion.
Voldemort surveyed the scorched buildings that marked the remnants of Diagon Alley. He felt a distinct pleasure as he took in the damage he had inflicted. However, he had not yet reached his ultimate goal of Ministry of Magic. The infrastructure of the magically world was going to crumble before his power. He waved his wand triumphantly, snapping an Auror in half as if he had been a twig. His blood splattered across Voldemort's face, but the Dark Lord made no move to remove it.
He called out to his Death Eaters. "There is our goal, my comrades. Destory it and it occupants. Once it is gone no one can stand in our way. The world will be ours. Ours will be rule that will last more then 100 years. Order will be restored to a Wizarding world that has long been tainted by half-breeds and mudbloods. This is our day." His voiced echoed across the battlefield that London now was. "Onward my Death Eaters!"
With their force of dementors, untransformed werewolves, and giants, the Death Eaters broke through the line of Aurors, common wizards, and even muggle policemen. Voldemort flung a line of the pathetic defenders backwards. Their bodies hit the exterior of the Ministry, making a sick snapping noise as their backs shattered from the force of their impact.
Ahead of him Voldemort notice the unmistakable form of Albus Dumbledore, his former Transfiguration teacher. Through his lips, mirthless laughter seeped.
"You have come. I'm surprised you left Hogwarts."
"You will not win here, Tom."
Voldemort's red eyes flared. "That name belonged to a weak buffoon. I have ascended to a level of higher understanding then when I was him, as a student at Hogwarts." Next Voldemort surveyed the land that surrounded him. "Look around, Dumbledore! I have already won, even if I do not take the Ministry today."
Dumbledore just shook his head in remorse.
"I will raze other Wizarding communities just as I have done her. Britain will burn!"
"After this, Tom, the people will unite and stand against you. You have only made matters worse for you." Dumbledore stated calmly.
"Unite? They fear me!" Voldemort smirked. "They depend on a chosen one to defend them when they should be defending themselves. If only they could see who was marked by me. How would their hopes be then?"
"I will pull Harry back from the abyss that you have led him too!"
"No," Voldemort murmured. "You will never achieve that. Despite the tasks, I have asked him to complete he has always remained loyal. Very much like a dog, I suppose if our roles had been reversed, Dumbledore, he would have been just as loyal to you. Except you would never have treated him like an equal."
"You have treated him as a tool!"
Voldemort laughed. "When we stand before the gates of hell before the book that tells our lives' stories, we shall see then, Dumbledore, how I have treated Harry. Not a moment before. This play still has yet to come to its conclusion."
Dumbledore raised his wand at the same moment Voldemort raised his. The two eyed each other with contempt. The two circled each other like ravenous wolves, waiting for the other to show weakness.
"The old world dies here with you, old man." Voldemort hissed, as he sent a shot of green light at Dumbledore.
Dumbledore with remarkable grace dodged the dark lord's curse. "You have to do better then that, Tom."
"That was barely a glimpse of what is to come." Voldemort paused briefly, to conjure up his shield. "I wouldn't want to kill you right away. First, I want to make you suffer."
"You have not changed all that much, Tom. You still delight in the torturing of others." Dumbledore stated, after effortlessly blocking a blue curse.
Voldemort made no retort to the Headmaster's accusations. Instead, he sent a cutting jinx that Dumbledore did not block in time. The curse glanced the Headmaster's temple and continued into his scalp. Voldemort watched with pleasure, as his old teacher whipped the blood from his eye. Turning slightly, Voldemort gazed at the battlefield. He knew that they would not be able to take the Ministry this day, but they had left an image that would not soon be forgotten.
Voldemort smiled slightly, before turning his attention back to Dumbledore. "You see that man there, barely more then a child. It is sad really that people like him are the ones who die, not leaders of the conflicts that destroy them. Pity really." Voldemort muttered the curse so the old man could hear, and then he watch as his blast of red light hit the red haired man with the glasses square in the head.
The glasses were flung from his face, somersaulting in the air, until they landed feet away from their wearer. The glasses' owner himself fell the opposite direction of his glasses with great power.
"Pity," Voldemort hissed one final time. "He was a pureblood too. A Weasley, I believe. Tsk-tsk."
Dumbledore's eyes flared, as he forced himself to steady.
"The day is yours, Dumbledore, because I choose to give it to you. Take care of the corpses and the rubble." Voldemort paused. "And take care of my son."
"He has been seeing images of a long hallway." Dumbledore gauged Riddle's reaction, and was not disappointed when his enemy's suddenly widened before they narrowed once more. "I tend to follow that hallway to its end."
Voldemort raised his wand, tempted to end the Headmaster's life now. "You will find nothing down that hallway." With those words, he and his followers abandoned the remains of Britain's Wizarding headquarters.
"Farewell, Tom." Dumbledore muttered, as he stared at the destruction that surrounded him long after Riddle had apparated.