Chapter XI: Breaking News
(Michael P.O.V)
"Reducto!" Michael bellowed as he pointed his wand towards Harry. Instantly a bullet of blue light raced towards his friend, but as he'd expected, Harry easily rolled out of the way, "Neville!" he cried, "Now!"
"Stupefy!" Neville spoke as a jet of red flashed in the air. Quickly, they watched as Harry pushed himself off the ground, the place where his body once rested smoldering from Neville's spell. "He's off-balance!" Neville spoke, "Now!"
Michael readied his wand before he watched Harry reach for his back pocket pulling out three, deep purple balls, that fit easily between his fingers. He threw them at the ground as he whispered, "Protego." Instantly, Harry disappeared from sight as the condensed ball form to the Peruvian Darkness Powder filled their lair.
Michael had wanted to find Neville, even if all of them were blind, Harry didn't have to hold back worried he'd hit a teammate, Michael, on the other hand, didn't have that luxury, though he also knew the shouting for Neville would easily give away his location. Suddenly, the sound of chirping filled the air, and instantly, a murder of crows plunged through the darkness. He dropped to the ground, but as he heard Neville wail, he assumed his friend wasn't as lucky. Before he even had a chance to react, however, he sensed a slight shift in the darkness and as he turned around he lifted his wand before hearing Harry whisper, "Tenebris Vincula," and instantly, he found himself subdued by black chains.
Michael watched as Harry pulled what looked like a tiny corked glass bottle from his pocket before he opened it and Michael watched in amazement as all darkness that once filled the room somehow fit inside the bottle. He glanced up at Harry and froze as he witnessed the color of his friend's eyes, they were no longer the familiar green, but a glowing yellow. Harry lifted his wand to his eyes before he spoke, "Finite" and instantly the yellow faded.
With a wave of Harry's wand, Michael felt himself collapse to the floor before turning over to look at Neville who was getting his cuts sealed by Kreacher who had become rather good at attending to the boys' injuries. "I have so many questions?" Michael started, "I guess I'll start with what the hell was that thing you did to your eyes."
"Oh, it's a charm Tonks taught me years ago, you learn it at the Auror Academy, it's a night-vision charm."
"And you never taught it to either of us?" Michael pressed.
"To be fair, it's not really a spell I use a lot, probably would have come in handy when I was chasing Pettigrew but I was a bit too hot-headed to think about it at the time," Harry said scratching the back of his neck nervously, "Honestly, I really don't like the spell much as it causes my eyes to burn if I use it for too long, but with you and Nev really putting the pressure on, I didn't have much choice."
"Okay then," Michael said with a tired look, "What about that bottle?"
"Oh yeah," Harry said, "So, I was thinking, Darkness Powder is great, and it's undetectable because it doesn't come from a spell. But, it's also super difficult to get rid of, and so I thought what if I inscribe a sealing rune to the cork of this vial. I talked a bit about it with Daphne in Runes yesterday and she was the one who actually drew the rune itself. It's a pretty handy tool. I promise I was going to share with you, but giving the 'enemy' all your secrets before sparring hardly seemed to make any sense."
"Well, while we're on the subject," Michael spoke looking cautiously at his friend, "Got any other notable secrets you're keeping."
"What are you talking about?" Harry asked his face as blank as parchment.
"Harry," Neville spoke, "We know something's bothering you. We're willing to give you your space and all, but whatever it is that's troubling you, you should know that you don't have to handle it on your own. We're with you till the end, you know."
Michael watched as his friend looked down at the floor, he watched in fear as Harry gripped his head tightly, shaking it desperately. Slowly, Michael reached out his hand, but as if in a fury, Harry smacked it away as he growled, "I'm fine!" He watched beside Neville as Harry bawled up his fist and glared at the ground in anger, "Just drop it okay?"
"Potter," Michael spoke in a calm voice, "We're worried about you. You're my best friend, I'm not just going to drop it, something's-"
"I appreciate the concern, okay," Harry said taking a deep breath, "And I'm sorry for snapping at you guys. But there's nothing to talk about, I'm fine." Michael watched sadly as Harry took his bag from their corner, and swung it over his shoulder, "I'm going to go shower up and get into some clean clothes before my meeting with Dumbledore, alright? I'll see you guys later."
Together, they watched as Harry left their secret room, and with a heavy sigh Michael spoke, "Daphne was right, whatever it is that's going on with Harry, it's deeper than I thought."
"Do you have a plan?" Neville spoke with equal exhaustion.
"No," Michael spoke his own body feeling exhausted from their hour of dueling, "I haven't got the slightest idea on how to proceed."
(Neville P.O.V)
The knot of concern in Neville's chest only seemed to grow tighter as he and Michael walked towards the Great Hall. Harry had his faults like everyone else, but he never expected Harry to become so distant. Even during their training, Neville could tell that Harry wasn't exactly completely present. When Michael had told him about the conversation between him and Daphne, at first Neville had thought it to be an over-reaction, but now, he wasn't so sure.
As they approached the doors of the Great Hall, Neville felt his legs lock into place as in confusion he watched the man that had been in the castle just yesterday, walk past the goblet in a haze. Neville wasn't exactly sure why Barty Crouch was here once again, but he watched as the high ranking ministry official walked past them, giving them a quick nod before heading off in the direction of Dumbledore's office. "Strange," Neville muttered aloud, "You'd think if he had something to discuss with Dumbledore, he'd have done it yesterday."
Michael shrugged, "I'm sure with the TriWizard Tournament happening the ministry's been swamped, I wouldn't be surprised if he just forgot something."
"Didn't he look a little funny to you?"
"The man walks around with a toothbrush-like mustache glued to his upper lip," Michael said with a tired yawn, "He always looks funny to me."
Neville shook off his friend's remark as they entered the Great Hall, though the distant look in Crouch's eyes still bothered him slightly. A bit of levity filled the air as Neville laughed with an amused expression as he watched Michael lock eyes with the Pink-Haired french girl. Their glares looked like two wolves ready to kill each other and while Neville found it humorous, he knew that having those two sit beside each other would lead to disaster, and with a sigh, Neville said, "Do you want to sit at the Hufflepuff table with me?"
Michael quickly nodded and the two friends ventured over towards the table that rested beneath the Badger sigil. Neville slid onto the bench beside Michael as the two awaited the dinner commencement announcements from Dumbledore, but instead were distracted when they heard a friendly voice call out, "What's up, Longbottom? Corner?"
Neville had found it odd at first that Cedric Diggory, one of the more popular Hufflepuffs, was addressing him directly, however, Neville quickly squashed that thought. Cedric despite his popularity in the school had always been a very kind person, it was part of what made him so popular, and with his initial outburst of inferiority struck from his mind, he smiled back, "Not much," He replied softly, "Word around the castle has it that you placed your name in the Goblet last night though, aren't you the least bit afraid?"
Neville watched as Cedric lifted his hand, "My hand's trembling, so I guess I must be a bit afraid," He said with an honest smile, "But at the same time, we all faced down a horde of Death Eaters at the World Cup. How scary could a little friendly competition be?" Neville grinned at Cedric's honest nature before he shrugged, "I guess I'm getting a bit ahead of myself though, my name hasn't even come out of the Goblet yet, it could be Davies or someone who represents Hogwarts, who knows?"
"It'll be you," Neville said with a smile, "If that goblet has any sense, it'll see that you're the best Champion Hogwarts has to offer."
"Thanks, Longbottom," Cedric said with a bright grin as he chuckled, "I guess I should be lucky you, Potter, and Corner aren't seventeen yet though, or I'd have a run for my money. It's going to be tough though, I mean, if I do get picked, I am going to be going up against Krum."
"How do you know it'll be him?" Michael asked curiously.
"I haven't seen it for myself, mind you," Cedric started, "But rumor has it he's the only one from Durmstrang to put his name in the Goblet. Durmstrang has never won the TriWizard Tournament before according to my research. I wouldn't be surprised if Karkaroff's been selectively coaching Krum, particularly for this tournament. I know it's not like me to think so little of people, but they don't seem like a crowd above cheating."
"You can say that again," Michael spoke, and Neville could see a concerned look in his eyes, "Especially Karkaroff. Call me crazy, but that guy just reeks of bad vibes."
Neville had no choice but to concede the point, yet, before he could reply, he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder as he turned to face the Blonde that he knew had grown so close to Harry's heart. He watched her eyes scan the tables furiously before she spoke, "Harry, he's not here."
"Yeah," Neville said with a somber tone, "We tried to talk to him about whatever's going on, and he kinda lost it for a second. I've never really seen him snap at anyone before, but being on the receiving end, it certainly wasn't great."
"You were right, Blondie," Michael said, "Whatever it is that's bothering him, it's bigger than I thought. He's about as stubborn as they come, he may need a more forceful push to finally get whatever it is that's bothering him off his chest."
"It could be stress," Cedric piped up, "I mean, I know Potter likes to walk around like nothing's the matter, but to do so after the World Cup attack, it's not normal. I know Potter's tough, but everyone has their limit, maybe he's approaching his, at least mentally."
"That's what I was thinking too," Michael nodded in agreement, "Still, I've seen Harry stressed and angry before, it's not like he's ever hidden his emotions from me. I don't understand why he chooses now of all times to be a cryptic idiot."
Neville scratched his head, there was a piece of the puzzle that was missing. When it came to the three of them, it was rare that any of them would hide what they were feeling. When he had been attacked, the anger in Michael and Harry's expression was palpable, when Blaise had been hurt, both he and Michael knew it was bothering him, but this was different. He looked up, trying to continue his train of thought, but was distracted as he caught the eyes of frantic whispering at the Staff Table, noticing the rather large gap created from Dumbledore's absence.
Slowly he nudged Corner, "What do you think is happening up there?"
"No clue," Michael responded as they watched as even Snape's eyes widened upon hearing whatever it was that was being whispered among the professors, "But if it makes Snape's eyes widen like that, I have a bad feeling about it."
Though Neville's concern for Harry still permeated his brain, it was pushed aside lightly as the wooden rattling of the grizzled Defense Against the Dark Arts professor leg, along with Professor Sprout approached their location with grim-looking dispositions. "Mr. Longbottom, is it?" Mad-Eye growled, "I'll need you to be coming with me. You as well Mr. Corner."
"Whatever it is you think we've done, it wasn't us," Michael spoke, "We haven't even had time to plan our next prank let alone execute it."
"This isn't about pranks boy!" Mad-Eye barked, "This is a serious matter. Now, where's Potter, he should hear this too, you're all a big group aren't yah?"
"We don't know where he is," Neville replied, "Honestly sir, if I knew I'd tell you."
"No matter," Professor Sprout, "Minerva will deliver the message to her cubs, for now, Mr. Longbottom, Mr. Corner, you two and Professor Moody will be accompanying me to my office. Come along now."
Neville saw the look of sheer confusion in Daphne's eyes, and while he wished he could tell the Slytherin girl something, he was as lost as anyone else. Seeing there would be no answers for her, Daphne headed back towards her table as Neville turned to Michael, each of them sharing a look of complete bewilderment as they exited the Great Hall down towards the Greenhouse which was attached to the Head of Hufflepuff's House's office. Upon entering the room, Neville felt a brief flash of familiarity. He had spent much time in this room during his first two years, it had been a place that sheltered him from the bullying of other students prior to meeting Harry and Michael, but something about it felt so ominous now.
The way the shining Puffapod bulbs lit up the room, or how Fluxweed seemed to expand around the walls of the office walls had always looked so inspiring to him, and yet now, he felt a certain measure of dread beneath the surface. Gently, he felt his Head of House place her hand gently on his shoulder and speak, "Please, take a seat. Both of you."
Nervously, Neville did as he was told as Michael sat in a chair beside him. Their eyes followed Moody as he paced around the room as rapidly as he could given his prosthetic leg, and that previously mentioned feeling of dread only tightened in his chest. It was Michael who spoke first, "Um, Professor, if we aren't in trouble for something, what is this all about?"
"Truthfully," Professor Sprout, "This information has little to do with you, but seeing as you are so close to Mr. Longbottom, I thought it appropriate for both you and Mr. Potter to join us. However, seeing now that Mr. Potter's location is currently a mystery, and the news is urgent, I suppose it will just be the two of you."
"What kind of news is it that you think I wouldn't be able to handle it on my own?" Neville asked a bit worried.
"Well, first Mr. Longbottom, I want to assure you that you are safe within the castle walls," Professor Sprout began, "Myself and the other Professors will work tirelessly to assure that neither you nor any other student is affected by this news. I'd like you to take a moment to calm yourself before I-"
"For the love of Merlin, the boy's fought Death Eaters according to the Prophet, there's no need for this cushioning," Mad-Eye barked, "Tonks, I assume you're familiar with her, she discovered that there was a break out of many prisoners locked away in Azkaban. Among the escapes were both the Lestrange brothers, as well as Bellatrix Lestrange."
Instantly, his body turned cold, it felt as if there was no blood pumping through his veins at all as he felt his hands begin to tremble. His eyes grew wide and yet he felt his field of vision shrinking as red consumed his sight. They're free, Neville thought to himself, his fist clenched in unbridled rage, The people who attacked my parents are free. "Nev," Michael spoke gently, "Are you okay?"
Around him, objects started to float off their desks as he continued to shake, the magic rolling off his body like a waterfall, "Am I okay?" He whispered, "I've never been better. This means I'll get to kill the people who tortured my family to insanity myself."
A sharp grin filled Moody's face, though Neville paid it little mind, his only thought rested on the image of his mother and father, lying in their beds, their faces blank, their minds destroyed. Maybe, Neville thought to himself, Maybe this is a gift from above. I'll make them suffer the same way my parents did. They'll pay- They'll all pay for taking them away from-
"Get a grip," Michael spoke as Neville felt his friend's hand tighten around his wrist, "I know you're angry, I'm not saying you don't have the right to be, but you need to calm down-"
"Don't tell me to calm down!" Neville roared as he grabbed his friend's collar lifting them both to their feet, "You saw them! You saw them last Christmas laying there looking at me like I didn't even exist! It's their fault! We all have our own reasons for fighting against the Death Eaters and my parents, their fate, that's why I fight! Don't you dare tell me that I should let it go!"
"I'd never tell you to let it go," Michael spoke in an even tone, "But getting worked up like this, it doesn't help anything. Think this through, what's your plan, are just going to leave Hogwarts to go travel the world searching for these bastards the way you are now? These aren't the chump recruits we faced at the World Cup here, they're bonafide Death Eaters, blood-thirsty killers. If you don't get your shit together, you're going to end up in a hole six feet beneath the ground before you make them pay."
"What would you know about it?" Neville growled, tears streaming down his face, "How would you know anything about the way I'm feeling? Your parents may be distant but at least they're still around, at least when you see them they recognize that you're their son. How could you even fathom the pain I'm feeling right now? You haven't lost anyone important to-"
But before Neville could finish he felt a fist collided with his face, knocking him to the ground as he looked up at Michael, his senses starting to clear as he saw Michael's fist trembling, "You're right, I have no idea what it's like to have the people I love taken away from me. But I know what it's like to watch my friends hurting from a pain I can't understand, and how painful it is to not be able to do anything about it. So you're right, maybe I can't understand what it's like to have someone torture my parents to insanity, but I won't allow my friends, the people I care about to throw their lives away recklessly on a suicide mission. I need you to get a grip right now Longbottom because you're one of my best friends, and I'll be damned if I let you get killed acting like an idiot."
"Alright, that's enough!" Professor Sprout spoke, "I don't know what this business is about fourteen-year-old boys risking their lives, but this madness stops now! Mr. Longbottom-"
"I'm okay," Neville spoke as he took Michael's extended hand, "I'm sorry for my outburst earlier, Professor. I'm sorry for acting so shamefully and I hope you won't think poorly of me in the future. And Michael," He spoke turning to the Blue-Haired boy, "Thanks, I'm sorry about-"
"Just stop talking, Longbottom," Michael said with a smile, "There's nothing to forgive. You, Harry, and I, we promised we'd be in this together, let's keep it that way. Alright?"
Neville nodded, a slight grin on his face as he wiped the blood from his lip, "That's a mean right hook you've got though, Corner. Maybe you should try that on Harry instead of spells next time."
Michael snickered before Professor Sprout spoke, "Mr. Longbottom, Mr. Corner, I have no idea what just happened here, but I can tell that the tension has been dispelled for now. That is the only reason you will not be serving detention for lashing out against another student. However, Mr. Longbottom, should the need ever arise again, I'd prefer it if you came to talk to me, rather than starting a fistfight in the halls. Am I understood?"
"Yes, Professor," Neville said with a nod.
"Excellent," Professor Sprout spoke as she picked a ripe bit from the growing Fluxweed that filled her office handing it to Neville, "Chew on this, it will alleviate the pain in your jaw for the time being. Remember not to swallow it though. If the pain persists, please go see Madam Pomfrey as soon as possible."
Neville nodded as he popped the Fluxweed into his mouth, his jaw grinding against the herb as he felt a numbing sensation overtake his jaw, "Thank you, Professor."
She nodded before dismissing the two of them, and as they walked out of Professor Sprout's office, the last thing that Neville noticed was a fascinated grin that sent shivers down his spine from Mad-Eye. "Hey, Michael," Neville spoke softly as they turned to walk back towards the Great Hall.
"Hm," Michael muttered as the Blue-Haired boy turned to face him.
"You're a good friend."
"That's a little random," Michael said with a chuckle, "But thanks Nev, you're a good friend too."
(Dumbledore P.O.V)
"So you're certain Albus," Severus said, "You're certain that the boy is one of them?"
"There is no other explanation," Dumbledore spoke, "Voldemort was present in the boy's mind, he can see through the Dark Lord's eyes. If there was any doubt remaining, it was shattered the moment I constructed his mindscape. A piece of Voldemort resides within Harry."
"Then that means that the boy must die," Severus spoke and Dumbledore noted the pain in the Potions Master's voice, "You've been preparing that boy as little more than a pig for slaughter. All of these lessons you provide him are nothing more than false illusions of hope."
"Not entirely true," Dumbledore spoke, "It is important that the boy master his gift for legilimency, it is clear that Voldemort didn't simply stop at one Horcrux, and Harry is the key to telling us where the others lie."
"And when you know the locations of the remaining Horcrux, you'll send him off to die at the Dark Lord's hands," Severus said, "Is there no other way?"
"Don't tell me you've grown to care for the boy?"
"The boy, no," Severus said, "But her, always."
"Harry will understand in due time the necessity of his sacrifice. He'll die a hero, and like his mother before him, he'll provide protection for all those who remain to stand against Voldemort and his forces." Dumbledore said taking a lemon drop from his basket and popping it in his mouth.
"How can you be so sure?" Severus spoke, "He's not weak-willed and knowing he was raised by Black and Remus, he doesn't seem the type to go march to his death willingly."
"Have faith in my plan Severus," Dumbledore spoke, "I've ensured that he will make the right choice, doubt is a powerful motivator, especially when implanted directly into one's mind."
A light knock on the door had changed the tone of the conversation and with a wave of his hand, Dumbledore had excused Severus. He watched as the Potions Master opened the door and brushed past Harry without saying a word before Dumbledore smiled, "Ah, Harry my boy, Lemon Drop?"
"No, thank you, Professor," Harry said closing the door behind him, "What do you have planned for us today?"
"Over the summer, we spent quite a bit of time growing your skills with Occlumency," Dumbledore spoke, and he watched as Harry nodded, though he seemed to be suffering a phantom headache from the memory, "Tonight, I'd like to brush up on some Legilimency, by the end of this year, I hope for you to be able to take your first step into the conduit you share with Voldemort, and with luck possibly identify the location of one of his Horcruxes, or perhaps the number he has created. To do so, we must practice safe diving techniques, would you not agree?"
Harry nodded, "The sooner we can end this the better. Where do I start?"
"Do you remember the exercise we practiced last year?" Dumbledore asked, "The one where I asked you to retrieve a specific book from my library. I'd like for us to try that again, as it will provide a gauge in which I can evaluate your progress."
"Sounds simple enough," Harry spoke as he took a seat across from Dumbledore.
He nodded, "Whenever you are ready, you may begin Harry."
He watched as Harry lifted his wand and with a soft tone, he spoke, "Legilimens."
Dumbledore smiled to himself, the boy had gotten rather adept at mental magic. He'd seen it during his mental probes, but being on the receiving end of Harry's legilimency had certainly made Dumbledore realize how much the boy had grown. He watched from above as Harry entered his vast library like mind and spoke, his voice booming through his mind, "Harry, you know your objective. I'm not going to be holding myself back this time, so prepare yourself."
"Yes sir," Harry responded and as Harry lifted his wand, Dumbledore began. Instantly, the books as hot as a roaring fire lifted from the shelves, and with the flick of two fingers, he sent a flaming barrage at Harry. Dumbledore watched with a satisfied smile as Harry with well-trained reflexes batted away each book with the wave of his wand, his eyes focused and primed.
Much to his surprise, Harry spun his wand and spoke, "Fumos!" Suddenly Harry vanished from his view in a plume of grey smoke. Dumbledore forced his hands together, and instantly, a floorboard lifted and as if it was a vacuum the smoke began to vanish. Smart Harry, but in someone's mindscape, a talented occlumens can bend reality to his will. Though perhaps it's time for stage two.
It hadn't taken long until Dumbledore had relocated Harry within his mind, and as Dumbledore took a deep breath, his heart echoed with pain as he remembered the man he was closer than brothers with. From a cloud of smoke appeared the man himself, Gellert Grindelwald, and with a snap of Dumbledore's finger, the illusion sprang into action the red book resting in his hand.
"Guess he wasn't kidding when he said he wasn't holding back," Harry grumbled as he stared down the Dark Wizard, "But I won't make the same mistakes as last time. Tenimago!" Instantly black flames erupted on Grindelwald. However, unlike the previous experience where Harry was surprised by the lack of effect the pain had on the illusion this time, Harry stared down the protector of his mind and waited. To Dumbledore's confusion, Harry watched as Gellert lifted his wand, but before Dumbledore could even react, he heard Harry grunt, "Expelliarmus!"
With a snap, the wand of his mental protector jumped into Harry's hand and without a moment to waste, Harry flicked his own wand as he barked, "Accio, Red Book!" Dumbledore watched with a pleasant smile as the red book flew from Gellert's hand into Harry's before the protector turned into dust.
Harry stood there, panting but clearly pleased with himself, before, with a full-strength push, Dumbledore launched Harry out of his mind. As he opened his eyes he saw a startled Harry looking up at him, "You could have at least given me a warning you were going to do that. The game was over after all."
Dumbledore laughed as he applauded, "Well done, Harry. Very well done."
In all honesty, he'd expected a bit of pride in Harry's reply, but the boy simply looked exhausted, and for a moment, he wondered if he had done too good of a job with his mental plant in Harry's mind. "So, what do you think Professor? Do you think I'll be able to enter Voldemort's mind soon?"
"I think it is possible that you will be able to achieve the ability to enter Voldemort's mind, but there is no need to rush, we still have time, and a reckless approach would only cause more harm than good," Dumbledore spoke, "We need to take this slowly."
"We don't have time to just sit on our hands," Harry spoke, "I saw them professor, Karkaroff and Snape. I'm not sure why you trust Snape, but the dark mark on both his arm and Karkaroff's are getting darker. I overheard them talking about it, Karkaroff believes Voldemort is getting stronger with every second."
"It's Professor Snape, Harry-"
"It's scum as far as I'm concerned," Harry retorted, "I don't know what in your right mind inspired you to believe that Snape is trustworthy, but I don't buy it. I may not have a say in what happens in this school, but outside of potions class, I don't want anything to do with him."
"From what I understand, he's only walking around free because you vouched for him," Harry said, "Or at least that's what I've heard from Sirius and Remus. If you trust him to watch your back, that's your problem, not mine, all I know is that he's not stepping foot into the New Order."
"Professor Snape is a valuable asset for the light," Dumbledore spoke softly, "After all, if he were as bad as you believe, Remus would have died last year during your pursuit of Pettigrew." Dumbledore watched as Harry grit his teeth struggling to refute the point as he continued, "It's important to keep an open mind, Harry. Labeling people so quickly as Dark and Light will only hurt you as a leader in this war. After all, it could be argued that Snape hasn't been responsible for nearly as many deaths as either Sirius or Remus, especially after the events of the Quidditch World Cup."
"They didn't have a choice," Harry responded, "They were fighting Death Eaters, it wasn't some schoolyard brawl."
"There is always a choice," Dumbledore spoke, "Vengeance is easy, forgiveness is hard."
"Save the lecture on peace for the Death Eaters who slaughtered twenty-seven innocent civilians."
"They stopped being civilians once you ordered them to fight back," Dumbledore replied with intensity, and immediately, he could see the look of horror that appeared on Harry's face. "Sirius allowed me to help you develop as a leader, I serve no purpose if you won't pay attention to my advice. Your judgement is clouded in anger Harry, if you want to be a successful leader, you need to learn to let your need for vengeance go."
Dumbledore glanced down, the defeat in Harry's eyes evident, and behind his passive stance, Dumbledore smiled, Good, first I have to make him doubt himself. Then slowly, I tear him down until he looks to me for guidance. It may take a while, but I will make Harry the soldier I need him to be, with or without him knowing. "Regardless," Dumbledore said with a sigh, "For now, it's getting late, and dinner is nearing its end. Come now, we'll continue our lessons at a later time, for now, you need food and a good night's rest."
He glanced once more at the boy and a sad smile encroached upon his face, I'm sorry, my boy. But there is no other way. However, just as they were about to leave, the door to the Headmaster's office opened once more, and Dumbledore looked on in silent confusion as from beyond the frame, he watched as Barty Crouch entered, a sickly expression on his face as he spoke, "Ah Professor Dumbledore, I need to discuss some things with you about the TriWizard Tournament, do you have a moment?"
"I suppose so," Dumbledore said with a slight smile, "Go on now Harry, I'm sure I'll arrive at the Great Hall momentarily." Dumbledore watched as Harry lifted himself from the chair, and brushed past Crouch towards the exit, his body ringing with doubt and pain.
(Harry P.O.V)
Harry took deep panting breaths as he wiped the sweat from his face. His heart was racked with guilt, he knew his friends deserved the truth, his girlfriend deserved the truth and yet a voice in his head screamed for him to remain silent. Harry had never hated himself more than he currently did, his friends had risked everything to fight at his side, and yet, Harry told them one lie after another.
He had hidden the truth of his fate from Daphne, a girl he knew he was falling for faster than he'd have liked to admit. He'd lied about his mental health to his family. And now he was avoiding his friends in a desperate attempt to find some solitude. He clenched his fist before taking a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves as he looked down once more at the Black Family Grimoire, turning to the back half for the more powerful spells. Wandless magic, he thought to himself, Who'd have guessed it would be so exhausting?
Once more Harry rose to his feet, his eyes focused on the target before him. His stomach growled in hunger, he'd told his friends he'd see them at dinner, but all he'd done was make a loop around to re-enter their lair alone after changing his clothes. His black muscle shift was drenched in sweat, but he pushed himself forward. Slowly he lifted his hand, his fingers spread apart as he imagined them beginning to wrap around the training dummy in the distance, "Contractus," he muttered as he slowly began to clench his fists.
He grit his teeth and watched slowly as the dummy began to shake slightly in the distance. Steadily Harry continued forcing the magic through his arm as he began to coil his fingers closer and closer to his palm. Suddenly, a feeling like a roaring fire burned through his arm, he clenched his forearm tightly as he fell to his knees screaming in agony. His hand rapidly began to go limp and he fought furiously against the tears which wanted to swell from the pain. He looked around desperately as he forced the word out of his mouth, "Kreacher."
With a loud pop, the elf appeared before him bowing deeply, "How can Kreacher serve the Heir of-" however the pleasantries vanished as Kreacher looked at him in fear, "Master Harry, you're hurt."
"I can tell," Harry growled, "Can your elf magic help?"
Harry watched as he grit his teeth trying to keep the outpouring of vocal outbursts to a minimum as Kreacher examined his arm. The elf pulled on his droopy ears, clearly deep in his thoughts as he muttered, "Master Harry, the muscles in your forearm have been torn to shreds. What were you doing?"
"Doesn't matter now," Harry grunted out, "Can you fix it?"
"Kreacher can try," The elf spoke, "But Kreacher isn't the best at healing magic. Fixing the muscles could hurt."
"I don't think it can hurt much worse," Harry whispered through gritted teeth, "Do what you can."
Kreacher nodded as the elf placed his aged hands atop his forearm. Like Kreacher had predicted, the pain of the healing magic was intense. It had reminded Harry of the time he'd taken Skele-Gro when he'd broken his arm at seven years old, except this time it didn't burn, this time it felt as if his muscles were being sewn together by rapidly moving needles. "Stay still, Master Harry, or this will only take longer to fix."
"Easier said than done," Harry groaned, the elf's hand finally moving off his forearm.
"How did Master Harry hurt his arm, to begin with?" Kreacher asked in a tone of concern, one Harry certainly hadn't expected from the elf despite their relationship become less and less antagonistic. Kreacher, for as long as Harry could remember had not been the most caring house-elf, mostly doing as he was told due to the conditions placed upon as a servant of House Black, seeing a glimmer of the elves more genuine side was something that shocked him slightly.
Harry continued to glance at Kreacher in stunned silence, before he noticed the elf dropped his head, looking displeased with himself for asking more questions than required of him before Harry's mouth finally opened. "Sorry Kreacher, I didn't mean to make you feel like you stepped out of line if that's what you thought. I'm just surprised to hear you ask something in such a caring tone."
"Master Harry once said he'd like to be Kreacher's friend, was that a lie?"
"No, no," Harry quickly responded, "But if I recall you claimed to not want friends."
"Kreacher did say that," Kreacher spoke sadly, "But Kreacher also doesn't want to be alone. Kreacher misses Master Regulus, more and more now that Kreacher is surrounded by Master Regulus' belongings back at home."
Harry looked down at the elf with a sad smile. From what he knew, Regulus was a Death Eater, a Death Eater that died mysteriously without a body ever being found. However, he also knew that of all the people in the House of Black, Regulus had treated Kreacher with more kindness than Harry could even understand. Death Eaters believed in one thing, the superiority of Pureblood wizards over every other being. For a Death Eater like Regulus to have developed such a relationship with a 'lowly' house-elf was a mystery that Harry simply couldn't solve. Once more, he caught the old elf's eyes as he spoke, "I was trying to learn another spell from the Black Family Grimoire. I looked into the wandless magic section, guess I underestimated how difficult those spells could be."
"These spells are very advanced," Kreacher spoke, "Not even Master Regulus mastered all of them before he-" Kreacher quickly shook his head, "It's unwise for Master Harry to practice these spells without understanding the basics of Wandless Magic first."
"Well it's not like Hogwarts has a class on Wandless Magic so I have to figure out this stuff on my-" Suddenly a light bulb sparked to life in Harry's mind as he looked down at the elf, "Elves do wandless magic all the time, right? I know it's a different brand, but the basics must be the same. Do you think you could teach me the basics of wandless magic, Kreacher?"
"No, no, no," Kreacher said shaking his head, "It's unacceptable. A House Elf like Kreacher has no right in instructing Kreacher's master. Kreacher will not, it's not right."
"Come on, Kreacher," Harry said with a smirk, "Please. I can make it an order if that would help, but if you want to be friends, you should know that friends help each other out all the time."
"If it is Master Harry's order," Kreacher said looking at the ground nervously, "Then maybe Kreacher can help Master Harry learn about Wandless Magic."
Harry smiled, "Thanks Kreacher." Instantly, the tiny elf's eyes widened and Harry felt a tinge of sadness in his heart. The fact that his own elf looked at him with astonished eyes at being thanked for his service had made Harry feel a bit sick. He loved Sirius, to him, Sirius was one of the best men alive, yet the way he treated Kreacher, the animosity that had built up between the two of them, it was hard to swallow at times. Harry shook that thought out of his mind, refocusing himself before he spoke once more, "Okay, so um, where do we start?"
"Kreacher won't help Master Harry today unless Master Harry orders him," Kreacher spoke as defiantly as his condition would allow, "If Master Harry doesn't allow his arm to heal properly, Kreacher will not be able to keep fixing Master Harry's injuries. Kreacher thinks that Master Harry should get some rest."
Harry sighed as he slid to the stone ground, his back resting against the wall, "I'd like to rest too, but I don't want to sleep."
Harry watched as the elf approached him taking his time as he sat beside him looking up at him. Kreacher always had a very stern expression on his face, but Harry saw that as the elf slowly bend down to sit at his side, his eyes looked warmer than usual and slowly he spoke, "Kreacher spends a lot of time listening. Kreacher listens to Master Harry, Master Harry's friends, pitiful Master Sirius, Mistress Andromeda, Kreacher is always listening. Kreacher knows that many people are concerned about Master Harry, and how Master Harry doesn't want to talk about what's bothering him. But maybe Kreacher can help, maybe Master Harry can tell Kreacher so Master Harry doesn't feel so alone."
Harry sighed deeply, "Maybe I can talk to you Kreacher, but you can't tell anyone else, that's an order."
Kreacher nodded silently, though a slight look of joy glimmered in his normally dark eyes at Harry's admission. Slowly Harry took a deep breath as he spoke, "It's the pressure, it's a level of pressure that I don't think I'm ready for," Harry spoke feeling the bind on his heart release. "At my core, all I wanted to be was an avenger. When I learned about what the Death Eaters and Voldemort did to my mom and dad, I just wanted to be strong enough to bring about justice."
"It just-," Harry started with a sigh, "I feel like everything is starting to make less and less sense, and I feel myself doubting my actions more and more. Growing up around Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Andy, Uncle Ted, they stopped me from becoming a monster, but back then, my path just felt so much clearer." He rested his head gently against the stone wall as he looked up at the roof, "I thought it would be so simple, I'd catch Pettigrew, and bring the rest of those assholes who escaped Azkaban to justice, but recently, everything just got so much more complicated."
"Dark Marks in the sky, the re-emergence of so many Death Eaters, an actual attack orchestrated by the bastards, and now all these rumors about Voldemort returning, it just feels so overwhelming sometimes." Harry clenched his fist tightly, "I never wanted to be the Boy-Who-Lived, I don't care about heroics for heroics sake, but I have to pretend like I do for the sake of others. If Voldemort's really coming back, the wizarding world is going to turn to me to lead them against him, something that I saw first hand at the World Cup, and it's something I don't care for doing."
"I'm not interested in fighting a war, I'm not interested in being a symbol of peace, but I don't really have a choice anymore." He said with a defeated tone, "Just a summer ago my plans were so simple, I was going to find a way of capturing those Deaters that escaped judgment, I was going to graduate from Hogwarts, and I was going to go on to play Quidditch professionally before easing into an early retirement. Part of me even imagined what sharing a normal-ish life with Daphne would look like. Maybe I'd even start a family."
"But now, I'm a figurehead for a war against a creature that's more of a demon than human, and somehow I managed to get every single person I care about involved in something that could get them killed, and frankly I don't know how to handle any of this." Harry grit his teeth as he tried to keep his tears from falling, "Michael, Neville, Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Andy, Ted, and now even Daphne and Astoria want to try so hard to fight by my side and while I appreciate the help, I don't know how I'm supposed to deal with any of my friends or family getting hurt for my cause!"
"Twenty-Seven people," Harry spoke tiredly, "I led twenty-seven people to their deaths. Kids are orphaned because of me Kreacher, and unlike me, who knows if they have wealth, or extended families to care for them. It's my war, and while I know I can't win a war by myself, I don't know how to stomach the fact that no matter what I do, innocent people are going to die." Harry shook his head in anger, "If I could just die and take all those bastards with me without anyone else getting hurt, I'd do that in a heartbeat, but that just isn't reality."
Harry ended his tirade and he turned to face Kreacher who looked at him with a look of strange understanding and admiration. Seeing that Harry had concluded his speech, Kreacher piped up slowly, "Master Harry, is Kreacher allowed to respond?"
Harry nodded and Kreacher began, "Kreacher has been a house elf for the House of Black for many years. Many of his Masters and Mistresses fought for the Dark Lord. Kreacher has seen many terrible wizards, many who enjoy causing harm and think little of the damage they leave behind. But Kreacher is happy that Master Harry isn't like that."
Harry watched Kreacher, a normally grumpy elf speak in a praising tone for the first time in Harry's knowledge, "Hearing what Master Harry just said, made Kreacher think that Master Harry is a great wizard, just like Master Regulus. Kreacher is proud to serve such a noble heir of House Black."
"I appreciate the compliment," Harry said with a somber look, though he secretly didn't feel thrilled to be compared to a former Death Eater, despite the fact that Harry knew it to be the highest level of praise for Kreacher "But I'm not exactly feeling like such a great wizard right now."
Kreacher nodded, "If Kreacher can make a suggestion," the elf spoke nervously before Harry gave him the go-ahead, "Kreacher thinks Master Harry is making a mistake in keeping his thoughts hidden. Kreacher spent the summer watching Master Harry's friends practice to fight beside him. Kreacher feels that they've done enough to earn the truth, maybe not everything if Master Harry feels some things too sensitive to share, but to at least know how Master Harry is doing, Kreacher thinks they deserve that much."
"I just don't want more people sticking their neck out for me," Harry said in exhaustion, "I don't want any of my friends to die."
"Kreacher feels that Master Harry's friends should be able to make their own decisions," Kreacher said and for the first time in Harry's life, he saw the elf smile, "After all, didn't Master Harry tell Kreacher that friends help each other out all the time?"
Harry smiled as he shook his head before he sighed, "Looks like you got me there Kreacher."
Kreacher smiled as he spoke, "Kreacher thinks Master Harry could use a good night sleep, Kreacher will go find a Dreamless Sleep potion for Master Harry, and some food to eat so that Master Harry can sleep well tonight."
Harry nodded and looked Kreacher in the eye with a glance of compassion, "Thanks, Kreacher. Really, it means a lot."
Kreacher furiously wiped away at his eyes before he bowed, "Kreacher is honored to serve the heir of the Noble House of Black."