Chapter Twenty-Three: Harry's Inferno
The rhythm of Harry's absent-minded movements only served to further encrust his mind into an entranced state-of-being. He was completely unaware of the sweat that wandered into his eyes or down the contours of his body, soaking his clothing. He was oblivious even to his hair as it clung to his skin, framing his face. Instead, Harry's mind solely focused on the images that replayed through his mind constantly, like a broken record. The first image was him holding a dagger to Granger's throat followed closely by the Horcrux disintegrating, and then Bellatrix's limp body. He had filtered through the events that had taken place three months prior always searching for reason. The results had been unacceptable, and Harry blamed himself.
'I should have just slit her throat.' Harry thought has moved his body into another position, straining his muscles further. His eyes cleared as he pushed away the remnants of the failed mission. Harry, instead, focused on the mirror before him, searching for a flaw that would point to his failure.
'Why could I not kill her?' Harry wondered. 'Was it because she is Dorian's friend, or was it because of that look in her eyes… that so familiar look?' His lips parted as he repeated words that belonged to a time when he was much younger. "Pity is a weakness, it causes one to hesitate. It must be erased. "
Sighing, Harry lowered his stance and leaned against the cool wall, catching his breath. His eyes landed on the clock, which showed that the hours had passed by. A pang hit his heart. If Bellatrix had been alive, she would have come and forced him to end his training before he had expended himself. But those times were passed.
Harry pushed away from the wall and moved to the far end of the training room, where a towel was waiting. Bringing its coarse surface to his face, he removed the sweat that plagued his face.
His thoughts changed direction before landing on his father. Harry was not a fool and knew that his father was furious at the loss of his Horcrux. The death of Bellatrix had served to dam his wrath. However, her death was no longer fresh. And Harry was slowly beginning to feel his father's disfavor as were the Death Eaters. Many of them were already beginning to take advantage of his diminishing statue. After all, what good was an heir that proved to be weak? Harry snorted. 'I was defeated by children. Sure Neville was trained by Dumbledore, but that should not have mattered. The boy is inept.' The table that held the towel was tossed across the room. It hit with a loud crack as one of the legs gave way and fell aside. For the most part the table remained intact, except for the one leg. 'It will not stand on three legs.' It was all together fitting. Ironically, Bellatrix had been the firm leg that had held their odd family together. Without her, their 'table' was bound to shake. Empty tears strayed from his eyes.
Just as Dumbledore had prophesized, the walls were slowly pulling in around him. The irony never ceased to amuse him. Despite his hatred of headmaster, the old man had known a few things that Harry would never have given him credit for. Dumbledore had seemed to have had some gift of divination, or at the very least he had understood humanity, to some extent.
"Divination." Harry muttered. His mind briefly recalled his experience with the crystal ball at Hogwarts. It had slowly made him a believer in the 'art'. Trelawney had called it an art. Harry, however, entitled it a curse as it plagued his dreams with images and realistic pain. Quickly, he forced his mind to steady.
The door slowly opened. Harry shifted his eyes to the person that was slowly entering.
"Malfoy." He stated simply, watching the elder Malfoy disdainfully. "What do you want?"
The pure-blood wizard sneered. His voice took on a condescending tone. "Oh, how the mighty have fallen." He moved his hand in front of his noise to block the scent of sweat.
The adolescent bristled. Malfoy had been one of the Death Eaters that had quickly moved in on both his and Bellatrix's positions. "I have not fallen so far that I am not a threat, Malfoy. Do not forget that."
The elder's face lightened slightly. "Perhaps, earlier if you had said that I would have been stricken with fear, but not now. Your name has lost the dread it once held, Harry Marvolo."
"At least an illusion of that fright still remains. Even with its head severed a snake can still move… still bite." Harry glared at the man before him. "You may take what you want from me. My life is already empty."
"Hmm… perhaps." Malfoy's face remained neutral, as he shifted the conversation away from its earlier strain. "As it is, I am not here to converse with you for pleasure but simply inform you that your father wishes to see you."
Harry desperately sought to hide the surprised that arose inside him. His father had been openly avoiding him since the incident. The Dark Lord had even refused to use him in missions. "Where?"
"The main room." Lucius stated. "It seems even in your 'state', you still possess some measure of usefulness. Be careful, Marvolo, you just might find yourself expendable."
A dagger flashed into Harry's hand, and the tip touched the dent in Malfoy's throat. "What do you know?" His voice asked harshly.
Malfoy chuckled. "Paranoia? You are no better than a rabid dog, Marvolo." He paused, glancing down at the dagger. "Remove it. Your father would not be pleased if you go around killing his faithful followers."
"You have no understanding of loyalty."
"Neither do you, or else you would not hesitate in killing." Malfoy stepped backwards, and Harry lowered his dagger. "You have a child's mentality, Marvolo. The Dark Lord made it so. You could kill without understanding, but not now." Malfoy's voice lowered. "Because now you understood, and your deeds are eating you. It is unfortunate that you began your 'career' so early. Adults after all can just brush our deeds away. Heaven knows that I have." The Death Eater's lips twisted upwards in a smile. "I would not be late, Marvolo. The Dark Lord, after all, is not a tolerant master. However, in this case, I believe he would prefer to wait until after you have showered."
"I will be there in half an hour."
"I will inform him." Malfoy paused in the doorway. "Welcome back from exile, Marvolo, may it not be a short return."
The senior Death Eater left Harry brooding. It was amazing how tables could turn so quickly. At one point, Lucius Malfoy would beg favors or place himself close to Harry, all the while loathing the child. But now he smelled weakness and like all animals he attacked it. And with Lucius's action, a far greater misdeed had occurred. Harry had been deprived of one of his sole companions. No longer did Draco keep him company.
"This is the moment that you have desired." He whispered to the mirror as he approached the door to the showering room, thinking of his meeting with his father. 'But why does it not feel right?' He did not ponder the last thought long before he turned the shower water on with a flick of his wrist. He would keep his suspicions in check. Malfoy's words were meant to goad and taunt. Very seldom did they hold true meaning.
Discarding his exercise clothes, Harry stepped into the tiled cubicle and breathed with relief as the warm water streaked down his face and hair. The filth washed away, renewing his senses. Silently, he marveled at the affects showers had before lathering his body with soap. Once the excess soap had been wash aside, Harry turned the elegant knob, ceasing the water fall. His eyes caught a pair of robes in the far corner, which had been left by a house elf sometime during his brief shower. The velveteen feel of the robes as they settle on his body, only increase that euphoria of the shower. After a brief check of his appearance, Harry left to meet with his father.
It did not take long for Harry to navigate through the winding hallways and to reach the large meeting room, which was commonly referred to as the 'main room' since it was as far as most Death Eaters got into the fortress. When he pushed open the large doors, Harry was taken aback to find the room almost empty save for an ominous figure sitting in a throne.
"Father." Harry stated in greeting.
The figure's face remained downcast, giving no sign of recognizing his existence.
Harry's teeth clenched as his anxiety threatened to overcome him. "You wished to see me."
His father's form nodded briefly, the air surrounding him almost tangible. "You have spent your time frugally. Tell me, Harry, have you found what you were searching for before that mirror. Did those months yield some greater answer?"
His face paled. "No."
The Dark Lord raised his face so his eyes leveled Harry's. "Pity… because your time is up."
Subconsciously, Harry's hand brushed against the dagger that was concealed in his robes.
A smile tugged on to Voldemort's lips. "It is in your nature to be a murderer, Harry, just as the prophecy stated." His eerie voice paused. "I am not your enemy, nor are you mine. You know this."
Harry's hand dropped. "You are giving me a mission, then?"
"Against my better judgment, I am. You have not grasped the control that you need to regain your former skill-."
"I will not-." His sentence was cut off abruptly by a scorching red beam. His hand clung to his left cheek, while his eyes gazed incredulously at his father.
"A reminder, my son. There cannot be order without punishment." Voldemort stated, rising from the throne. His long stride carried him swiftly to a table. "Come."
Harry's hand never left his check as he crossed the room to the table that his father had pointed to. On the table, a map laid stretched upon its wooden surface. The breath left Harry's throat as his eyes landed on the target marked with red ink.
"How?" The question was merely more than a whisper.
"Your duel with Dumbledore was more rewarding then anyone could have imagined." Voldemort answered, touching the building marked as the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix. "The deceased headmaster was the secret keeper for the Order. With his death, the protections surrounding the building have been… let's say lax."
"Are they aware of this?" Harry questioned still uncertain as to where this conversation was leading.
The Dark Lord smiled. "No, they are not, according to our new spy. They have had three months to regroup. However, due of the death of their leader, they have been immobile. Hmph." Voldemort snorted. "Dumbledore kept most of the control for himself, so it is only to be expected that the Order would collapse with his death. They had been coddled for far too long. Sadly, their fate will be our own if I should be killed." His father's voice carried an edge.
Harry felt the silent accusing. He had made his father vulnerable. "That will not happen. The only one who can kill you is me. As you have stated, we are not enemies."
"So the prophecy states." His father eyed him curiously. "However, predicting the future is a hard business. The future is rarely ever straight forward when revealing its truths."
Harry smiled. "A greater truth was never spoken."
"Flattery?" His father said teasingly, and Harry felt the weight on his heart lift slightly.
"Never, father. I leave that to Lucius."
Voldemort nodded his head. "I would have it no other way." The Dark Lord's mood shifted to one more morose. "We are approaching the final operations of this war. Through your work, we have eliminated key members of government and others that would have stepped up to build resistance movements. Perhaps, soon you will see the fruit of your labors for me, Harry."
Harry's eyes shifted away.
A sad smile crossed his father's face. "Your sacrifices will have naught been spent in vain. None of our sacrifices will be for nothing… I will see to it."
'It must be great to have some greater vision.' Harry thought solemnly as he stared at his father in wonder. 'I can only imagine.'
"Now." Voldemort brought Harry's mind back to the task on hand. "You will be leading a small group of Death Eaters against the headquarters of the Order. Your actions there will merely be a feint, while I move the main force into positions throughout London. With your group drawing their attention, we should be able to achieve our purposes with relative ease."
Harry watched as his father's hand glided across the map, highlighting key locations. "Eventually, we will be overrun." He stated.
Voldemort nodded. "That is the design." He raised his hand to stop Harry's arguments. "When they do succeed, Harry, you will draw them into our net. They will be caught in a crossfire."
"And then the war is ours."
"No." Voldemort stated. "There will always be pockets of resistance. But, yes, we will have achieved the major victory. One can only achieve a final battle when you can control the mind and soul of the people. Unfortunately, such a feat is impossible."
An uneasy feeling rose in Harry's chest. "What if the plan fails?"
"What are your thoughts?"
"I feel that we are forgetting something." Harry's eyes narrowed as he delved into thought.
"I have thought of ever factor. And the only onr that I cannot correct is human error."
His father's gaze burned into him, causing Harry to flinch. "I will be prepared." He paused hesitantly. "I need to take care of something before the attack."
"You have this evening, Harry."
"Thank-you, father."
Voldemort nodded his head absently, keeping his keen eyes on his son. "Do as you will."
Harry gave a short nod before exiting the room. As he started toward his destination, his heart did something that it had not done for a long. It clenched in sorrow at the unavoidable reality that faced him. One could not scoff at fate, what was meant to be would be. But even this truth could not relieve the tightening feeling the enveloped his heart. 'Hmph, how ridiculous have I become?'
Harry's steps took him to the right, and he proceeded down a private hallway that was relatively undecorated besides a few large crests that had belonged to the house of Salazar Slytherin. At the end of the corridor, a door of deep ebony waited. His hand hovered above the silver antique knob, as Harry paused in doubt. His mind raced searching for some form of stability from the uncertainty that gnawed at him like cankers. Biting his lower lip, Harry grabbed firmly unto the handle and pushed it downwards.
His eyes darted across the interior of his room. Where once there had been clean floor was now littered with crayons that composed all the colors of the spectrum, along with sloppy drawings in which the subject matter was questionable. The walls that had once been bare were covered in these drawings. The drawings belonged to a child that had yet to discover the proportions of the human body. In the corner, there was a pile of teddy bears. Even though he had just left childhood behind, Harry did not have a clue what a normal child would desire so Jonas had received numerous teddy bears.
Jonas, by now, had just abandoned his latest masterpiece and was looking brightly at Harry.
"Clean up, Jonas, and pack your things." As always, Jonas obeyed, though he continual stole glances in his direction.
As Jonas busied himself, Harry peered nonchalantly down at the latest picture. His jaw loosened. There were simply two stick figures on the yellow construction paper. One had black hair and green eyes while the other had yellow hair and gray eyes. In wobbly handwriting at the top the picture was titled simply 'Harry and Me'.
"Do you like it?" Jonas asked from behind him.
Harry nodded brusquely. "I think it's your best so far."
The boy beamed. "You can have it, if you like."
"Thank you." His voice was a mere whisper, before changing the subject. "You have everything."
"Yes."
"Good, let's go." Harry turned to leave the room, but Jonas's voice stopped him.
"Where are we going? And why haven't you packed?"
'Too observant for his own good.' Harry thought briefly. "I will be away soon, and you won't be able to come."
"Why?"
"Did you honestly want to follow me your whole life?" A slight smile crept onto Harry's lips. "You will be far better off without me." Harry grabbed the boy's bag and hoisted it over his shoulder. 'Who knows you might even survive this war.'
Tears started to fill the boy's eyes. "You don't like me."
Harry shrugged. "If I did not like you, would I have allowed you to come this far with me?" Jonas's watery eyes did not change, and were still reflected betrayal. "Come, we do not have much time."
He heard the sluggish steps of the youth behind him, trying desperately to slow the unavoidable departure.
"Pick up your feet." Harry called over his shoulder. The sound of faster footsteps reached his ears as they turned into the main corridor. They would leave the compound via a little known exit. It would draw less attention.
"I don't-." Jonas began when they reached the door.
"Quiet." Turning the doorknob, Harry exited into the cold. Jonas, as always, followed.
Harry's head grasped his wand, pulling it toward his face. Within seconds, his features began to alter; his hair becoming blonde, and his facial features began to slightly mirror Jonas's. Holding out his hand, Harry waited for his charge to grab it. "Hold on tight." Of course, the boy already knew that. Jonas had apparated with him countless times, but regardless Harry still felt it was better to remind.
The scenery changed drastically into a small town. Harry had been here countless times. It was a Wizarding town that didn't even deserve to have the title of 'town', being as it was composed of a handful of house and then one pub, called the Clay Pipe. Harry eyes shifted down, wordlessly taking in the unimpressed look on Jonas's face.
"When we enter the pub, don't look at anybody. Just follow me."
Uncertainty filled the youth's face.
"It can be a little rough." Harry stated. "For all purposes, that pub is a hub for 'unsavory' sorts… those who simple wish to bury themselves. They will not tolerate a kid, so stay out of their way, and we should have no difficulties."
Slowly, they approached the four-walled tavern with its peeling paint. Harry opened the door, ushering in Jonas first his hand resting on the youth's shoulder to prevent the child from wandering. The eyes of the patrons rose to greet the newcomers, scrutinizing ever detail.
"The fireplace is in the back." Harry whispered lowly.
"Where am I going?"
Harry could feel the fear radiating from the boy. "Someplace safe."
Awkwardly, the pair maneuvered through the tables.
"The fireplace is for paying customers only!" The bartender bellowed.
A dagger flipped into Harry's hand, causing the bartender's face to instantly pale.
"Mar-."
"Some names are better left unspoken." Harry turned, pulling Jonas along with him.
Away from prying eyes, Harry set down Jonas's bag. Then reaching into his robes, he removed an envelope that Harry had written a few weeks beforehand when he had first decided on this course of action. Written on the front was simply 'Potters'.
"I'm not going to lie to you, Jonas. The people, who I am sending you to, don't know you are coming." Harry leaned against the rustic fireplace, staring down at his companion. "But if all their words are true, they will probably be sappy enough to take you in."
"Why do I have to leave?" Jonas asked quietly.
Harry closed his eyes. "Being with me is not the safest place to be." His mind briefly flashed an image of Bellatrix. "Especially, now. Things are about to change, Jonas, and it is best that you are not around when they do."
"Will I see you again?"
Jonas looked up startled when he realized that Harry was now squatting at his level so he could look directly into his eyes.
"What are these?" Harry said, as he wiped away tears that rolled down Jonas's cheeks. "Save those for later." 'You might need them.' Harry thought briefly.
"Will we-."
"Perhaps." Harry answered as he returned to his normal stature. "I do not wish to give you false hopes." His hand reached up to the mantle and into a pot, retracting it with a handful of Floo Powder. Harry, then, threw it into the hearth.
Harry motioned Jonas into the fireplace, and when he stepped into the threshold, Harry spoke again.
"If the Potters start to do stupid things, like resist Voldemort, leave. Do you understand?"
The boy nodded.
"Then all you need to say is Potters, Godric Hollow. Oh, and give them this."
Harry turned and left the back room, when he heard the boy say his destination. It was necessary; anything else would have been reckless on Harry's part. Moving to the bar, Harry sat in of the tall stools. Leaning forward, He caught the bartender's attention. "I trust you haven't done anything regrettable." Harry whispered.
"Of course not!" The man said hurriedly. "How about a drink… on the house, of course."
"Give me something strong."
It was not long before an amber substance was placed before him. Raising the shot, Harry stared at 'his' reflection. In it, he saw what the child would grow to be. 'He will live, even if I don't.' He blinked, forcing the tight knot in his throat down. 'I am lost in a dark wood, and I just turned away my divine intervention.' The cup touched his lips, and the liquid burned his throat. 'I seem to enjoy the dark woods, at least.' The glass hit the counter empty.