Search:

SIYE Time:8:01 on 29th March 2024
SIYE Login: no


Grey Maiden III: Servant of Darkness
By Chris Widger

- Text Size +

Category: Alternate Universe
Characters:Albus Dumbledore, Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Minerva McGonagall, Remus Lupin, Ron Weasley, Severus Snape, Sirius Black
Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama
Warnings: Dark Fiction, Death, Violence
Story is Complete
Rating: R
Reviews: 197
Summary: As Harry slowly recovers from his ordeal in the Chamber of Secrets, he is forced to confront both his actions and those of his guardian.An overheard conversation leads to a revelation that shocks him to the bone, and makes his destiny clear.With his best friends standing firmly beside him, Harry slowly begins the momumental task of becoming the leader the wizarding world needs him to be. New allies and friends will pave the road to victory, but it is a long and difficult road. But as the first stones are laid, Harry is forced to deal with a ghost of his past, a maniac who seems set on his destruction...But as it always is with the Boy-Who-Lived, things are not always how they appear to be...
Hitcount: Story Total: 131686; Chapter Total: 7066







ChapterPrinter
StoryPrinter


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

Chapter 11: Ambush

“Uh, Harry…?” a nervous-sounding voice asked. Harry started, then prepared to arm himself until he saw who it was. Harry was in the library, reading through a book on Occlumency that Daphne had recommended. Ginny was somewhere else, doing homework. Hermione was searching for information on Unicorns, though Harry was not completely sure why. Blaise was nowhere to be found.

Standing behind him was Neville Longbottom, rocking back and forth slightly on his ungainly feet, wearing his typically miserable expression. He eyes darted back and forth anxiously. “Yes?” Harry asked, closing the book and dropping it into his bag.

“I…I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” the boy said. “I just…well, I wanted to talk to you…” He glanced around again, as if expecting Ron Weasley to jump out from behind one of the bookshelves. Scratch that; Ron’s not subtle enough to manage something like that. Snape, on the other hand…

“You aren’t,” Harry lied slightly. He had been reading the introduction to an interesting alternative theory, but he was willing to listen to the Gryffindor. Harry liked Neville, he was honest and hard working, but cursed with an abysmal memory and terribly lacking in self-confidence. The boy was constantly anticipating his next failure, a mindset that made success almost impossible. Harry felt a great deal of sympathy for Neville, and had decided to help out when he could. Few students, but Neville’s parents had been tortured into insanity and remained alive in the Permanent Care Ward of St. Mungo’s, where Neville visited them as often as he could. Harry often wondered just how much good that did him. “Take a seat,” he offered.

“I just…well, you’re the only person I can talk to about this…” Neville mumbled.

Harry considered him. “You want to talk about your parents?” Harry asked quietly.

“Sort of,” Neville said. “I know this is a kind of strange question, but…what’s it like having dead parents…no, that’s not what I wanted to say, I meant…”

“I think the question you’re searching for is: Which orphan is worse off? The one who knows his parents aren’t coming back, or the one that cannot give up hope.” Harry said slowly, hoping he was correct.

Neville looked at Harry in awe, then realized he was staring and look down at his hands. “I dunno,” he said lamely. “…I’ve just been thinking about it, a lot. Gran’s so proud of them, and even though I know it hurts her to see them like that, she still wants to go…I suppose it’s nice to see my parents, but I just…”

“No comfort comes of it,” Harry finished, looking him straight in the eyes. “You don’t see your parents, you see rather pathetic human beings that are a shell of their former selves.” Harry had chosen his words carefully, and knew that he might trigger a very angry response. He was not disappointed.

Neville turned bright red, and his blue eyes burned with rage. “What gives you the right…?”

“Nothing,” Harry said simply. “But I just said something that you’ve begun to understand as you grow older. Your parents were great people, Neville. They were strong, brave, and caring. But they are gone. They aren’t coming back.”

Neville stared at him for a long moment. “I’m sorry-”

Harry cut him off. “Don’t be,” he assured him. “I had no right to say what I did, and I admit I said it to be hurtful…but that’s because I’m trying to make you come out and admit what you truly feel. You need to believe in yourself, to be willing to question the opinions of others…especially your grandmother.”

Neville opened his mouth as if to retort, but could say nothing. He stared at his hands, turning red from his shame.

“Neville, just because I understand this doesn’t mean you should have. The fact that you are able to is remarkable enough in itself.”

“It’s just hard,” Neville said, putting his head in his hands. “I just see them there, just existing…it’s just…wrong…I don’t want to remember them like that!” he exclaimed, prompting Madam Pince to shush him loudly.

“Then don’t,” Ginny’s voice came from behind them. She stood there alone, a pile of books in her hands.

“How much did you hear?” Neville demanded.

Ginny winced. “Enough to understand some things I’ve heard before.”

Harry suddenly had a thought. “Neville, why are you frightened of people knowing what happened to your parents? I understand that some would mock you for it, but you only told me because I already knew.”

“Because I don’t want them to think my parents are a couple of loonies,” Neville said softly, tears coming to his eyes. “Everybody already thinks that I’m a bloody Squib,” the boy continued, choking up. He looked at Harry intensely. “I hate my parents sometimes,” he whispered quietly. “I hate them for not being there.”

He took a deep breath, then met Harry’s eyes again. “Do you?”

Harry had a flash of understanding. “Is that what you wanted to ask me?”

Neville nodded. Harry considered his response. There was only one honest answer. “No,” he said. “I don’t.”

Neville looked deflated, and Harry realized he needed to do some damage control. Ginny got to him first. “But Harry’s different,” Ginny insisted. “He has Daphne, a woman who is completely devoted to him. He’s a lot closer to her than you are to your grandmum, I think.”

“Neville,” Harry said, reaching over and gently squeezing the boy’s arm. “I don’t hate my parents because I don’t know them. Most importantly, I don’t really need to know them…yes, it would be nice to have a normal mother and a father, but Daphne’s been everything I could have ever hoped for.” Harry knew he was telling the truth. If she had been anything before her past had finally caught up with her, she’d been a devoted, loving mother. “It doesn’t mean your grandmother is a bad person, by the way. But she doesn’t understand you, it’s easy to tell.” Neville glanced up at him in surprise. “She’s quite imposing, and you are intimidated by her. It’s just the way she is. It’s not because you are a coward…she was a terror when she was in politics.”

Neville chuckled slightly. “I can imagine that.” His expression turned serious. “But what you were saying before..?”

Harry considered. “Ginny, would you mind if we finished this conversation in private?” he asked. The redhead looked disappointed, but nodded and left. Harry turned back to the expectant Gryffindor. “I was saying that the condition that your parents are in doesn’t do them justice. It’s an insult.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t put it that far…”

Harry took a deep breath. “Neville,” he began, locking eyes with the boy. “Would you want to live like that? When you can’t remember your own son, you own parents, who you are?

“No,” Neville said glumly. He paused, and seemed to be calming himself “But what can I do?”

“Let them go,” Harry replied. “I know that it is hard, but you need to stop thinking that they’ll ever come back. In this situation, hope is the deadliest of poisons.”

“I know,” Neville said. “I’ve known for a while…but I can’t tell Gran that, she’d kill me, say I was dishonoring their memories.”

“Unlike you, Neville, she knew them. One was her son, the other was the girl he’d been dating since her fifth year. She’s never going to be able to give up on them. You don’t have to be that way. Accept who you are, and strive to be the best you can be,” Harry implored.

“But…wow,” he mumbled. “I’ve been stupid,” he said dejectedly.

“No, you haven’t been stupid,” Harry replied. “You’ve been acting your age. Trust me, there is nothing wrong with that. You don’t have to look at the way I look at it or an adult looks at it…perhaps the worst thing about how you’ve been constantly compared to your parents is that you hear nothing but good things about them.”

“But they were good people,” Neville protested stubbornly. “You said so yourself.”

“So they were,” Harry replied. “Were they perfect?”

“Of course not,” Neville said dismissively.

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Oh really? Tell me something stupid that one of them did, then?”

Neville opened his mouth to speak, then closed it abruptly. He couldn’t. Harry knew that Augusta had likely never uttered a word that in anyway degraded her son and his wife, and taught Neville to dismiss those who did as ignorant.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “It that what you’ve been trying to tell me?”

Harry nodded.

Neville frowned. “Couldn’t you have just said it up front? Instead of making me feel bad?”

Harry gave him a sly smile. “I’m a Slytherin, Neville. I don’t operate like that. Besides, doesn’t it feel better that you figured it out by yourself?” He sobered. “That’s just part of what I’m trying to get you to understand, though,” he added.

“Why are you doing this?” Neville asked abruptly. “Why do you care so much about making me believe this?”

“Because I believe in you,” Harry explained. “And because I feel a connection to you that I don’t feel with anyone else. We’re both war orphans, Neville, even if your parents still eat, sleep, and breathe. And we’ve both had to deal with living in the shadows of our parents. Snape hated me on sight because he assumed that I was like my father. You’ve gotten down on yourself when you’ve done something that your perfect parents wouldn’t have done, so much that you’ve accepted you can never be anything important.”

“What about you?” Neville asked. “There’s something…strange about you, Harry. It’s like you are trying to play a role, to be a leader at thirteen because the wizarding world expects you to. I’ve heard some of the stuff you talk to the Slytherins about, and Ron says enough truthful information to give me a general idea…are you trying to be what your guardian was?”

Harry’s first inclination was the deny the implication. His first priority was the Prophecy, and that was driving his life at the moment. But it was true that in the past he’d sought to emulate Daphne. Children often tried to be like the parent they were closest to, he’d heard, and because Daphne was the only parent he’d ever known, he probably had been heavily influenced by her. Especially back when I thought of her as a sad but almost perfect woman and the best mother a person could hope for. Those were childish fantasies, nothing more. Daphne is flawed in ways that most can’t even imagine. “I suppose you might be right,” he admitted. “There’s something else, though,” he added, trying to make it clear that the subject was closed.

Neville frowned, and seemed to be debating something. Blushing, he asked sheepishly, “Could you help with Professor Snape’s Potions essay? I don’t understand about half the uses of newt eyes.”

Harry smiled. “No problem.” He shifted over as Neville pulled out a number of papers and his Potions text.

“So anyway,” Neville began, “are newt eyes the ingredient that causes the potion to become thicker, or do they balance out the reaction?”


Bloody Hell!” Harry exclaimed, frantically fanning at the flames rapidly consuming his robes. Ginny provided a solution, hitting him with a Drenching Charm. His robes now both sodden and singed, he stared in amazement at his best friend, who had just cast a Burning Hex that had destroyed his shield with impunity. “What was that?”

“It wasn’t a Burning Hex, that’s for sure,” Ginny said softly. She eyed his damaged clothing. “Hope you didn’t have anything valuable in there…and sorry for getting you all wet,” she said sheepishly.

“It’s fine,” Harry insisted, examining his robes and the skin underneath them to insure that there were no severe burns. Somehow, he’d avoided anything serious. He scratched his wet head. “Hermione, care to explain how exactly you did that?”

His friend was frozen, staring at her wand in a kind of mute horror. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “I didn’t do anything differently, I just cast the spell…and you heard the incantation and saw the wand movement; I didn’t do anything unusual.

“Hermione, are you really peeved at Harry for something?” Ginny asked, her eyes narrowing. “Because I remember hearing that spells can sometimes be supercharged by strong emotions…and if that’s the case, I think Harry deserves to know why you tried to kill him.”

Hermione glared at her friend. “I think nothing of the sort,” she protested. “I just cast it, and…”

Harry saw that the new robes he’d thought about had appeared on a nearby table. A thought later, and so did a changing screen. He stepped behind it, then, feeling mischievous, poked his head out. “No peeking,” he said, grinning cheekily at Ginny.

In the past, the redhead would have turned red as a tomato and likely fled the area. As further proof that she’d gotten over her childhood crush, she pinked slightly, but more importantly, sent him a withering glare, then picked up her teacup and threw it at him. He ducked back behind the screen as it shattered against the wall. He decided not to push his luck, and changed into his new robes.

Ginny was still glaring at him when he emerged, eyeing the shattered teacup. The Room had already provided a new one.

Harry gave her an apologetic look. “Sorry,” Harry said earnestly. “That was uncalled for.”

“It’s not as if there’s anything good to see,” Ginny snapped back pointedly. Harry was about to issue a retort when Hermione, who to this point had been still trying to process what had happened, abruptly burst out laughing. Both of them stared at her until she stopped, coughing loudly.

Before Harry could ask, she changed the subject. “I’ll try it again,” she suggested, not looking at either of them, blushing slightly for reasons that Harry couldn’t fathom. She aimed at the far wall. “Incendio!”

A jet of blue light shot from the wand and flames momentarily erupted as it struck the stone surface. They faded quickly, leaving the wall slightly singed. But while it was slightly more powerful than Harry had seen from her before, it was nothing like the fireball that might have roasted him alive if not for his shield and quick reflexes. Most shocking was that it had actually penetrated the shield, going directly through the barrier as well as around it. He was most lucky to have avoided any major burns, though he might have a few blisters here and there. Ginny had reacted quickly.

“Harry, have you ever read about anything like this?” Hermione asked softly, her voice full of concern.

Harry shrugged, his calm, unconcerned expression belying the rapid palpitations of his heart. “You’re always been good with fire-related spells; that blue-flame charm is your specialty…” he reasoned. He looked her in the eyes. “You’ve got to relax, though. I’m fine.”

“I almost killed you,” Hermione whispered slightly. Harry couldn’t keep from wincing, though it wasn’t from the reality of Hermione’s statement. It was from his own memories of nearly shattering Tonks’ skull with a supercharged Striking Curse. But Hermione can’t have gained that much power…there’s no reason for it, nor has it manifested itself at any other time this year.

“Why don’t you try again?” Ginny suggested. “See what happens.”

No,” Hermione insisted. “I don’t want that to happen again.”

“Then how will we know if it’s a problem?” Harry asked, leaning against a wall. “It could just be a freak occurrence, but it could be something important. You are a pretty powerful witch, Hermione.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked, looking puzzled.

Harry stared in amazement at her. “I’m not saying you are a budding Sorceress or anything, but you are definitely above-average for your age. Considering that you are Muggle-Born, that’s remarkable…simply because you have only been using magic for a little over two years.”

Hermione blushed slightly. “I just thought I was smarter,” she admitted sheepishly.

Ginny clapped her on the shoulder. “Trust me, you are that too.”

Harry dropped into a dueling stance, knees slightly bent, his eyes narrowed at his opponent. Hermione reluctantly mirrored him, swallowing hard as she leveled her wand. “Percutio!” she cast quickly. Harry threw up a shield and the spell was reflected into the ceiling with a shower of sparks.

He fired off two spells. First, he cast a Blinding Curse, followed by a Blasting Curse. The incantation for the former was only two syllables. Hermione’s hastily conjured shield spluttered and died after deflecting the hex into the floor, but she was unprotected as the latter curse flew at her. She tried to dive but the curse still caught her in the left ankle, and she hit the ground hard. Harry’s third spell, a Disarming Charm, launched her wand over his shoulder, as he had already run over to his downed friend.

Hermione groaned in pain, clutching her ankle. Harry feared it might be broken, and while Madam Pomfrey would mend it in an instant, he didn’t fancy trying to explain exactly how it had happened. His fears were soothed as Hermione struggled to her feet. It appeared it might just be a bad bruise. Harry had fired the spell in a hurry, and it lacked the regular punch as a result. In addition, the Blasting Curse was most effective against solid objects because the power was directly proportional to the surface area of the target.

“Are you alright?” Harry asked, offering her a hand as she tried to steady herself. She stumbled slightly and fell against him, and he pushed her back up. It was clear that their practice was at an end.

“Ow…” Hermione moaned, bouncing on her good leg. True to her nature, even her injury couldn’t hold back her inquisitiveness. “What was it that you did?” she asked, wincing as she did so.

Harry explained his strategy, which suitably impressed both girls. Daphne had explained the concept to him briefly the previous summer, and he’d read up on it. It was, of course, only effective when both combatants were using exclusively verbal magic. One could not rush an incantation; if the syllables were slurred, the spell would not work. But by choosing a shorter incantation, one was almost guaranteed to attack first. One could immediately follow up with a spell of any length to fire at one’s now unprotected opponent.

Even in pain, though, Hermione hadn’t forgotten about her unexpected burst of power. “Harry, I’m fine,” she assured him. “But we need to find out more about what happened.”

“You want to duel again?” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow as he glanced at her swollen ankle.

Hermione grimaced. “Not really…but how else are we going to find out what happened.”

“I’ll be ready with the Drenching Charm if needed,” Ginny assured them, drawing her wand.

Hermione was still having a bit of trouble standing, so Harry resolved that he would be strictly on the defensive, save maybe a Stinging Hex or something equally minor, until she chose a fire-related spell. Harry hoped that she didn’t change her strategy, understanding the importance of having a battle plan for the first part of a duel. After a certain point, one went with their best while searching for weaknesses to exploit.

She started this time, firing a weak Stunner that Harry slapped into the far wall. Gritting her teeth against the pain, her next hex was a Blinding Curse, one which went awry, shooting over Harry’s right shoulder. Harry retaliated with a Stinging Hex that hit her left wrist. She growled slightly, and then loosed a Burning Hex.

A massive plume of blue-white flame burst forth from the tip of her wand. Harry quickly determined that he had no chance of blocking the onrushing inferno, and hit the deck, diving to the stone floor. He felt the pain of his hard impact, but he avoided the deadly fire spell, though it singed the top of his hair. Hermione once more was frozen, but this time, it was awe, not horror. Ginny was looking on, her eyes wide as saucers. “Whoa,” she said.

“We’ve got to tell Professor Dumbledore about this!” Hermione exclaimed. “Because this is definitely not normal.

“First, we are getting you to Madam Pomfrey and explaining that you tripped down the stairs,” Harry said, interrupting her.

Ginny glared at him. “Can’t you think of anything better than that?”

“Will you two stop arguing for a second? I’m really worried about this! What if I do it in class? I don’t think that will go over very well.”


Harry raced through the Entrance Hall, out the large oak doors. It was a cold, blustery October day, and he pulled his cloak closer to himself as he ran. He hurried out onto the grounds, quickly checking his watch. He silently cursed Blaise for delaying him by ‘borrowing’ his Monster Book of Monsters, then making Harry chase him down in the library to get it back. The net result was that he was almost ten minutes late, and Hermione no doubt was going spare wondering where her usually punctual best friend was. After all, the times that I’m late are usually when something bad has happened.

He ran across the covered bridge, headed for the east side of the Grounds, his muscles, still sore from his early morning Quidditch practice, protesting the entire way. He’d spoken with Hagrid the previous day, and his friend been rather excited as he told Harry that the day’s Care of Magical Creatures class would take place in a paddock on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. He spotted a gathering of black-robed figures in the distance, along with the massive silhouette of their teacher. Harry was out of breath when he skidded to a stop next to Hermione and Blaise, the former shooting an annoyed glare at him and mouthing ‘where have you been?’ Harry shook his head and began to listen to the half-giant.

“…’m sorry the flobberworms weren’t so good, but Professor Dumbledore warned me ‘bout taking the course too fast, this being me first year and all,” Hagrid was saying. He smiled widely, and Harry had a strange sense of foreboding. “But I got sommat real interestin’ today. C’mon, follow me,” he said, waving a trashcan lid-sized hand in the direction of the Forest. There were some anxious whispers, which vanished after they didn’t actually enter the forest. They walked through a small cave which led out onto a caged paddock. Inside were creatures Harry recognized instantly, but had never seen before in person. Hippogriffs resembled large flying horses, complete with a beak and two sets of razor-sharp talons. They eyed the assembling students with a look of disdain.

There were a number of gasps from people that hadn’t seen such a creature before, and Malfoy made a rude comment. “So what exactly is that thing?” he drawled. “Your best friend?”

“’Eard that, five points from Slytherin,” Hagrid grumbled. He turned back to the rest of the class. “Can anybody tell me what these beautiful creatures are?” he asked. Several hands shot up, including, of course, Hermione’s. Hagrid pointed at her.

“Hippogriffs are magical creatures that are best described as a cross between a falcon and a horse,” Hermione said matter-of-factly. “They are very proud and intelligent creatures, and easily offended. When offended, they often become violent. They dislike human contact.”

“Good. Five points ter Gryffindor.” Hermione beamed. “Well, these are slightly different from the ones that ‘Ermione was talking ‘bout. These are tamed Hippogriffs, so they’re much safer. O’ course, if yeh offend one, they still don’t take kindly to that…well, who wants to be the first to volunteer? Anybody?”

Harry might have volunteered, but he didn’t like the way the creatures kept staring at him, their fiery orange eyes boring into him. Their glimpses were brief, as if not to be noticed, but Harry felt decidedly uneasy. Something stirred within him, and his vision went fuzzy for a second. He blinked, pulled off his glasses, and was about to clean this when he realized they were spotless. Meanwhile, Ron Weasley of all people had volunteered. No matter how much he disliked the boy, he had to admire his bravery. Though perhaps they are staring at him like their next meal…

Nervously, Ron approached the animal, and bowed reluctantly. Buckbeak, a Hippogriff with a fine white coat, bent its knees in the approximation of a bow. Hagrid clapped with joy, then abruptly picked up the Gryffindor and tossed him onto the back of the creature. Harry watched in fascination as Ron clung for dear life, getting a firm hold of the creature’s neck just in time as it spread its massive wings and took flight. Most of the class cheered enthusiastically, though Ron didn’t exactly look like he was anticipating his next ride. He stumbled as he got off, and his face was slightly green.

“Great, Ron!” Hagrid boomed cheerfully. “Fifteen points ter Gryffindor…now then, there’s twelve of them, so partner up and choose one. Remember, bow first, show ‘em the respect they want. Approach slowly, and don’t say anything stupid, ‘cause they can hear yeh.”

Hermione had already moved towards a black-and-white Hippogriff. The creature immediately turned to Harry as he moved to follow. He made a note to ask Hagrid in private what distracted or attracted the creatures. He had a feeling they might somehow be sensing the massive reserves of wild magic that Daphne had sealed off in his mind. She had instructed him specifically to do everything in his power to keep his abilities secret. He didn’t like to play on his friend’s absentmindedness, but Hagrid probably wouldn’t make the connection, and would simply be pleased that Harry was showing such interest.

Hermione approached nervously, and Harry could see that he knees were shaking. “Deep breaths,” he instructed. “They won’t be impressed by fear.”

“You try and approach one of these things,” she shot back. But never one to back away from a challenge, she moved forward. She stopped as soon as the Hippogriff diverted it’s attention from Harry to her, and bowed slightly. The Hippogriff wasted no time in returning the gesture. Hermione cautiously approached, and began to stroke the feathers on the creature’s neck. It crooned in pleasure as Hermione found a good spot. But she had no intentions of riding the beast, and backed away slowly.

Harry took a deep breath and began to move forward, forcing himself to keep eye contact and trying not to blink. He slowly bent his back, tensing the muscles in his right arm as he prepared to arm himself if need be. For whatever good that will do…

The Hippogriff advanced a few steps, but stopped, and bowed slightly, almost reluctantly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Nott watching him closely, as he absently pet the coat of the chestnut. He turned his eyes back almost instantly to the Hippogriff, whose eyes seemed to be becoming brighter. As he moved forward, arms still at his side, he felt a small, almost undetectable sensation, and stopped, just a foot from the creature. As he stared into the black-and-white Hippogriff’s eyes, his magic slipped around Daphne’s barrier, sniffing at the winged horse curiously…

At that instant, the creature reared back, letting out a loud cry of alarm. Time seemed to slow as Harry raced against the instinctual reaction of the beast. His wrist cocked slowly as a razor-sharp talon descended towards his unprotected midsection. His left arm instinctually came up to block the claws…

He heard the fabric of his robes tear. He felt the right talon break the skin just below his left shoulder. He felt the piercing pain as the claw raked across his skin, slicing him open from collar-bone to navel. His body instinctually jerked backwards, which perhaps kept the Hippogriff from digging into his stomach, but the damage was done. He heard Hermione’s shriek of alarm as it echoed through his eardrums, heard several other screams as he felt his back hit the dirt, leaving him lying almost directly beneath the still-crazed creature. He looked up in shock and disbelief as the creature lunged again, claws reaching for his downed form, one dripping with his blood.

Time sped back up…

The creature jerked backwards as none other than Neville Longbottom seized the reigns of the Hippogriff, undoubtedly saving the Slytherin’s life. Hagrid arrived to aid him just as Harry felt warmth began to soak his clothing. His vision was darkening, and he seemed to be deaf. He saw Hermione draw her wand and without thinking cast a Healing Spell she’d learned from a book only yesterday.

Harry could dimly hear the excited shouting off the class, the pounding of Hagrid’s massive feet as he ran over to his student, and Hermione’s continued cries for help…

His vision darkened as if he was being pulled down into a tunnel, and he knew no more.


Would whoever is sobbing and blowinghis nose please SHUT UP? he yelled mentally, aware that no one could hear him. He didn’t know where he was, what he was doing here, why he couldn’t see, or when it would end. All he knew was that his name was Harry Potter, he lived with Daphne Dressler, he’d been late for his Care of Magical Creatures class…

His memories came racing back to him, and with the jolt of adrenaline, his eyes flew open. They closed almost as fast, blinded by the bright light around him. Slowly, he opened them again, and tried to sit up. He met resistance, and began to panic. He pushed back, but then heard a frantic voice telling him to calm down, that he was badly injured and wasn’t supposed to get out of bed. Another female voice, this one higher-pitched, joined the first, and he stopped struggling. Someone placed his glasses over his eyes, and he blinked as the world came into focus. Staring back at him was Ginny Weasley, looking pale and anxious. “Harry?” she asked. Harry heard Hermione yelling for Madam Pomfrey in the background, and tried to sit up again. Ginny recognized what he was trying to do and tried to prop him upright.

Madam Pomfrey, looking tired and harassed, came into view. “Mr. Potter,” she snapped. “Lie down.”

Harry complied, relaxing his body and sliding back into a horizontal position. She stopped him short, tipping his head backwards as she held a potion in front of her. He opened his mouth and she slowly poured in the contents of the vial. It was bitter, but he’d had worse.

There was another loud sob and a sound like a fog horn as Hagrid blew his nose again. Harry couldn’t see him, as he was hunched over, sitting on two of the beds, but he didn’t look very good. “What happened?” he asked, still trying to remember how he’d gotten here.

“Yeh see,” Hagrid said miserably, “He don’t even remember,” he sobbed miserably.

“You were…attacked by a Hippogriff,” Hermione said, taking a seat on the next bed. She glanced over at her teacher as she chose her words carefully. Harry wasn’t sure there was any other way to say it, and Hagrid was about as upset as he could get already.

“I thought you were dead,” Ginny admitted, blushing slightly. “I was just being silly.”

“Not at all, dear,” Madam Pomfrey interjected. “If not for Miss Granger’s unexpected prowess at Healing, you might be.” She gave Hagrid a half-hearted glare. Obviously, she was fighting her protective instincts. Hagrid didn’t need any reminders that he’d done anything stupid.

Another fog horn. “Hagrid offered to resign,” Ginny whispered. “Professor Dumbledore wouldn’t let him.” That made sense to Harry, and he had to admit that this really wasn’t Hagrid’s fault. The creature had somehow detected his untamed power and been terribly frightened by it. Hippogriffs were Light creatures, and it seemed even more likely now that Harry’s new magic still carried with it the taint of Tom Riddle. It was something he’d need to talk about with both Daphne and Dumbledore. A scary thought suddenly came to mind.

“Nothing else happened, right?” he asked, his voice a hoarse whisper. As if to remedy this, Madam Pomfrey came over with a glass of water. He sat up slightly and drank greedily before lying down. He could feel that almost his entire torso was covered in bandages underneath his pajamas and hospital gown.

Hermione frowned at him. She looked alarmingly suspicious. Bloody hell, does anything get by her? “What do you mean by that?” she asked with a slight edge. “Is nearly dying not enough for you?”

Harry was shocked, and it looked like Hermione instantly thought better of what she had said. “Hermione!” Ginny gasped, glaring angrily.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted. “That didn’t come out right. I’ve just been so worried about you.”

“Really?” a male voice said. “I thought you might have been losing your touch…pity…” Blaise Zabini said. Harry was happy to see him, if only for the distraction. “You doing alright, Potter?” he asked.

Harry smiled grimly. “Dunno, I can’t get up. That’s probably not a good thing.”

“I’d say not,” Blaise admitted. He smiled, walking over to stand next to the bed. He bent down and whispered, “you’d best get well soon; Malfoy’s threatening to take your job.” Harry groaned.

Boys!” Hermione snapped angrily. “Do either one of you have any care for how close Harry came to dying?

Blaise shrugged. “Hadn’t thought about it much, to be honest…you, Harry?”

He smiled back at him, knowing the response he wanted. He much preferred Blaise’s offhanded way of dealing with things. It was far less depressing. “Haven’t had much time for thinking, really.”

You arrogant little-“

“Miss Granger! Mister Zabini! OUT!” Madam Pomfrey bellowed, pointing a finger at the door. Blaise wilted and obediently followed, looking defeated. She could silence banshees if they were disturbing the rest of her patients, Harry thought.

“No,” Hermione protested. “I’m staying.” It sobered Harry slightly when he realized the implications of Hermione standing up to an adult. She was obviously far more concerned with him, and he’d been more of less mocking her. She returned Madam Pomfrey’s stern glare with one of her own. Whether it was because she was too tired to argue or simply trusted the girl’s good nature and adherence to the rules was unknown, but she relented.

“Fine,” she snapped. “Mr. Potter, you are going to be here for a while, so get comfortably. You’ve been out for a day and a half, and lost a great deal of blood, so I’m going to be giving you regular Blood-Replenishing potions.”

Harry nodded in understanding and the Hogwarts Matron departed, muttering about regular patients and disruptive students. Harry realized that Hermione was standing off to the side awkwardly. He sighed. “You know, Hermione, if I handled every near-death experience the way you wanted me too, I’d be living a rather depressing existence.”

“Well maybe you’d stop getting into those situations, then,” she snapped back huffily.

“It’s not his fault,” Ginny protested. “How was he supposed to know that his Hippogriff would attack him?”

“I don’t know,” Hermione admitted. She turned to him, biting her lower lip. “Do you have any ideas?”

“No,” Harry lied. In fact, he was almost certain he knew what had caused the creature to react in such a way. What he didn’t know was what he could do about it, or about any other possible consequences of his untamed power. He needed to have a conversation with Dumbledore. Surely he had had to deal with such things before, or would at least be able to relate.

Another fog horn. “Hagrid, I’m alright,” Harry assured him, speaking loudly as to not be drowned out by the man’s racking sobs.

“Yeh almost died!” Hagrid moaned. “That’s two years outta three!”

“The first time wasn’t your fault,” Harry insisted. “If you’d been with us, he would have gotten you too. The important thing was that you took Hermione and I to safety.”

Hagrid didn’t seem to be listening, though the sobs stopped. He turned back to Hermione, who glanced over her shoulder. “It’s just too much, Harry,” she whispered. “Between what happened when we were dueling and this, and the fact that you’ve got a mass murderer after you, you’ve got to forgive me if I’m just a bit concerned about you right now!”

Harry winced. The fact that Sirius Black was supposedly hunting him had escaped his mind. “Well, I’m safe up here,” he replied. “You won’t have to worry for a few days.”

“For whatever that’s worth,” Ginny reminded him. “I might be showing it a little less than Hermione, but it scares me to death every time something happens to you.”

Guilt hammered down on him in waves, but he surprised himself by fighting it. He understood his friend’s worry and anxiety, but he simply couldn’t allow himself to think like that. He had a great task before him, and he would accomplish nothing by ‘playing it safe.’ Even Daphne knows that, and she would do anything to protect me.

“We do need to speak to Dumbledore,” Harry admitted. “I’ve got to admit I’m concerned about what happened when Hermione and I dueled. There’s something else I need to address, as well.” He’d hoped that the two of them might be distracted enough to leave it at that, but it was a foolish hope.

“What is it?” Hermione asked, frowning at him, her eyes narrowing. Harry chastised himself as he realized that he’d backed himself into a corner. How to explain this without telling them the truth and not damaging our relationship…

Harry took a deep breath. “Something happened in the Chamber that neither of you two know about. In fact, there are only four people that know about it. I can’t tell you now, for both your and my safety.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ginny demanded angrily. “You don’t trust us?”

Hermione answered for him. “No, but neither one of us has any Occlumency training…but you just started, didn’t you?”

Harry shook his head. “I’ve been learning since August, but Daphne has placed mental barriers in my mind. I swear that I will tell you when it’s safe, but for now, this needs to remain secret. Do you understand?” Though they didn’t know it, he was actually referring to two different secrets. One, of course, being the reserves of untamed and uncontrollable magic. The other being the information about the Prophecy.

“How can we, though?” Ginny asked. “You’re stuck in bed for at least a week. I think Madam Pomfrey mentioned some special property of a Hippogriff’s talons that make the wounds they inflict heal very slowly.” Hermione nodded in agreement.

“Then we’ll wait a week,” Harry supposed. “The day after Halloween?”

Hermione shrugged. “We’ll have to get our story straight. Professor Dumbledore is a rather busy man…shouldn’t Daphne be there as well?”

Harry surprised himself by shaking his head without a thought. “She has enough on her mind, what with tracking Black, applying for a teaching job with the Aurors, and training. Dumbledore will tell us what to do.” After all, it’d be nice to know if my power will cause any more dangerous magical creatures to savage me…


The next week was pure torture from Harry’s perspective. His healing was progressing, and finally, four days later, Madam Pomfrey allowed him to sit up for short periods of time. The claws hadn’t badly damaged any internal organs, but he’d have a number of scars to add to his ever growing collection. Besides the infamous one on his forehead, he had numerous ones from various minor dueling injuries, remnants of larger wounds he assumed he’d received in the beating that Riddle had taken in his body from Daphne, and one on his right arm he’d had since the age of five. He received that one by trying to relocate an owl’s nest. It was not the smartest thing he’d ever done.

Next to his bed was a large pile of textbooks and pieces of parchment, on which were the assignments he had missed in various stages of completion. Hermione and Blaise had managed to cover all of his classes. Ginny visited him whenever she could. His injuries had, in some convoluted way, actually benefited her. Short a Chaser after Malfoy had usurped his Seeker position, Pucey had chosen her as his replacement.

Luna Lovegood had also stopped by, and they’d had an interesting conversation about human nature. At least, it had been interesting at the time. Between Luna’s nonsensical statements and vague assertions, and Harry’s boredom, in hindsight, he was amazed that he had found the conversation intriguing in anyway whatsoever. Luna had said one thing that he was still thinking about. “Sometimes, people are frightened not just by what a person does, but what they could do…they are afraid of potential to do bad things. I think that’s stupid. After all, I have the potential to be many things. I could discover the cure for Dragon Pox…or I could invent a new disease and make a lot of people die. I think people are just jealous that you have the potential to be greater than them…for better or for worse…”

The rest of her dialogue had involved a number of examples with Crumple-Horned Snorkacks and Nargles. But as obvious as Luna’s statement was, it also offered an explanation for why the Hippogriff, which Hagrid had named Onyx, had attacked him. It, as a Light creature, is frightened of the Dark Magic that I contain within me. Somehow, that magic reached out to it when we kept eye contact. It sensed Riddle inside of me, and it panicked.

Harry rolled over and stared out over the Grounds. The Quidditch game had started about an hour ago, Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. Weasley against Weasley(s). Hermione had offered to stay with him, but he’d insisted that she support Ginny, who was rather anxious. The cheers seemed to have died down, or at least, he couldn’t hear them through the closed window.

He went back to work, using his wand to levitate his Charms textbook. Their assignment was a charm that Hermione had been using since the first week of her first year, the Warming Charm.

The Warming Charm, along with it’s opposite, the Cooling Charm, is a simple spell with many practical uses. As well as providing warmth to any part of the body, a wizard or witch can heat tea or any other kind of liquid. Warming Charms can be cast to take effect in a specific area or can be cast on the person. The wand movements, as follow, are quite simple. A small upward flick of the wrist…

“My, my, I’d expect our Seeker to be a bit more interested in the outcome of the game,” an unfamiliar voice commented. He set the book down and met the dark, suspicious eyes of Anne Grunitch. Her dark brown hair was tied back in a ponytail to keep it out of her face during the match. The girl was still wearing her green and silver Quidditch Robes, and her cheeks were pink from the cold. From the downcast look on her face, Harry figured the news wasn’t good.”

“Pardon me if I don’t want to think about what I’d rather be doing…how badly did we lose?”

Anne blinked. “You’re better then I thought,” she said quietly. She scowled. “We were slaughtered.”

Harry sighed. “And you are delivering this news because?”

“What do you think?” she snapped. “Weasley played like dragon dung and Granger’s trying to calm her down.”

Harry closed his eyes. Somehow, he’d anticipated this. “Was she really that bad?”

Anne nodded grimly, and then hesitated. “Well, it’s a toss up between her and Montague, but Pucey was screaming at her. She scored forty points, but also missed six passes, dropped the ball twice, and refused to execute a Suicide Sprint.”

Harry glared at her. The Suicide Sprint was a favorite of Flint’s. It was a tactic designed to jump-start a struggling offense by diverting the attention of the opposing Beaters. One of the Chasers, normally the fastest, would fly straight at one of both of the Beaters, narrowly avoiding a collision, and giving the Chaser’s Beaters a chance to swoop in and regain control while the other two Chasers made a run at the goal. The strategy worked most of the time for two reasons. One, when the time was chosen properly, the attacker had the advantage of surprise. Second, the Beaters were normally reluctant to hit the charging Chaser at such close range. And Fred and George wouldn’t dream of hitting Ginny at point-blank range. And as long as she avoids an actual collision, it’s completely legal. Fuck you Adrian. “Did you really expect her to? They are her brothers after all!”

Anne shrugged. “I thought it was rather tactless, but I think Pucey was just desperate. Their Chasers jumped all over Tracey, and they were off to a big lead. Malfoy simply doesn’t have your focus or vision and is a dreadful Seeker. I think I saw the Snitch a couple more time than he did. This one was decided by the Chasers, and they’ve got three good ones.”

Harry nodded in agreement. “Well, tell Pucey I’ll be able to fly against Ravenclaw.”

“Trust me, he knows; I don’t think he’s ever appreciated having you on the team as much as he did today…so you got attacked by something in Care of Magical Creatures?”

Harry winced at the memory. “Yeah…a Hippogriff.”

Anne nodded, obviously understanding. “What’d you do, insult it?”

Harry shook his head. “I don’t know,” he admitted honestly. “The thing just reared back and attacked me…and I’m not quite that stupid…change of subject, though: how was your first match?”

Anne smiled widely, and Harry could see the genuine glee shining through her tough exterior. “Great. I love hitting Bludgers. Expect me to be getting quite a few death glares from the Gryffindor Chasers and Weasley. I broke Bell’s nose.”

Harry grimaced. “She won’t be thanking you for that…it was a clean hit?”

Anne grinned again, but this time, it was more predatory. “There’s no cheating in Quidditch, Potter. Only bending the rules.”

Despite himself, Harry smiled back at her. Quidditch brought out a competitive instinct in him that made him overlook his normal morals and codes of conduct from time to time. That, combined with his Slytherin traits, made it quite easy to congratulate Anne on breaking the rules without getting caught. Besides, it’s just a game. One that I and nearly everyone else absolutely loves, but just a game. There’s no cheating in a real battle, just intelligent tactics. “Thanks for stopping by, Anne. Broke the monotony a bit.”

“Glad to be of service,” the girl replied cheerfully. “I’ll chase down Ginny and tell her that you haven’t cut all ties to her then?”

Harry smiled. “Please.”


Harry stood on shaking legs with Madam Pomfrey holding his shoulders steady. Once he had regained his balance, she let go. She crossed in front of him and gave him a stern glare. “You are to report to me every morning to receive your potions and a change of bandages. Do not remove those bandages except to shower or bathe, and rinse the wound when you do. And for Merlin’s Sake, Harry, please take better care of yourself. I’ve got it in mind to reserve a hospital bed for you; you’re here frequently enough.” She paused, before continuing. “Do not exert yourself too much; despite the Strengthening Potions, you’ll still tire easily.”

Harry smiled hopefully. “Can I go to the Halloween Feast?”

The Hogwarts Matron shook her head. “I’m afraid not. I want you to get a good night’s sleep in your own bed, otherwise I’m keeping you here. You’ve been through quite an ordeal, Mister Potter, and the only reason I’m letting you out is because Professor Dumbledore asked me too. I don’t know why, so please don’t ask.”

“Alright, I understand,” Harry replied, leaning back against the bed and yawning tiredly.

“See that? You’ll fall asleep on your feet. Would you like me to escort you down to the dungeons? The last thing I need is for you to miss a step and break your neck falling down the stairs!”

Harry raised his hands. “I’ll be fine. Trust me.”

Madam Pomfrey looked very reluctant, but sighed. “Alright, off you go. No more visits for at least two weeks, understood?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“Go.”

Harry left the Hospital Wing for the first time in week and instantly felt better. He considered for a moment ignoring Madam Pomfrey’s instructions and sneaking in for the last part of the Feast, but thought better of it. She’d find out, and probably keep him in there for another week. He also remembered he’d need to have a House-Elf move the massive pile of books. Maybe he’ll be useful after all…

“Dobby?” he called.

With a CRACK, the bedraggled, green-grey skinned elf appeared in front of him, his tennis ball-sized green eyes sparkling with anticipation. “Master Harry Potter called Dobby?”

Harry forced a smile, though with considerably less effort than it usually took. He didn’t hate Dobby; one had to be truly cold-hearted to do that. Dobby meant very well, was extremely loyal, reliable, and enthusiastic. Far too enthusiastic. “Yes, Dobby, I did…have you spoken to Daphne lately?”

“Dobby has, sir,” he explained. “Mistress Daphne Dressler was asking Dobby to find out what happened to Harry Potter…Mistress was not very happy with Mister Hagrid when Mistress discovered that Mister Harry Potter had been hurt by big, bad Hippogriff. Mistress Daphne Dressler said that Mister Hagrid should-“

“That’s enough, Dobby,” Harry said, cutting him off. He frowned as he processed what the elf had said. Daphne was understandably unhappy that Harry had been badly injured, but he had hoped that she wouldn’t direct the blame at Hagrid. The man clearly regretted…whatever he had done wrong. I suppose he thinks he let his enthusiasm get the better of him. Which is unfortunate for two reasons: one, the reason that I was injured has nothing to do with the nature of a Hippogriff, and two, we’ll be back to studying miserably boring creatures like Flobberworms.

“Dobby is sorry, sir.”

Harry suddenly remembered why he had summoned the elf in the first place. “Dobby, I left my books beside my bed in the Hospital Wing. Might you bring them back to my room?”

Dobby nodded energetically. “Of course, sir. I will be doing it right away!” He vanished with a CRACK. I can only hope he doesn’t provoke the ire of Madam Pomfrey by making too much noise. He is useful, even if he’s also completely barmy.

Harry proceeded down several sets of staircases into the Entrance Hall. He looked longingly at the corridor that led into the Great Hall, where Ginny, Hermione, and Blaise were no doubt enjoying the festivities. He could hear the dull roar of excited chatter, explosions, and music. That makes it three years in a row. Halloween is a cursed day for me…and my family.

He blinked and regained focus, turning towards the entrance of the dungeons. He stopped for a moment, then made the final decision that he would not risk another horrifically boring week in the Hospital Wing, and descended into the bowels of the castle.

The dungeons were dark, as usual, lit only by a few torches that never seemed to go out. It was dank, gloomy, and unnerving. Pull yourself together, Potter. Even Daphne doesn’t jump at every shadow, every spooked rat. Sirius Black is not hiding in the dungeons.

Nonetheless, he sped up his pace, but still paid close attention to everything in front of him. He saw nothing.

What he didn’t see was what was occurring behind him. Had he been aware, he might have seen a bear-like black dog, hidden deep in the shadows, soundlessly morph into a tall man in ragged clothing. The Animagus raised a stolen wand, a reluctant hex on his lips. He waited for his moment…

Harry heard a dull BOOM in the distance, coming from the direction of the Great Hall. He smiled sadly, guessing that it was probably the handiwork of one of the Weasley twins.

In that moment, Sirius struck. “Stupefy!”

Harry was in motion the moment he heard the word, but it was far too late. His wand remained in his holster as the red jet of light hit him in the back.

His world vanished into a dark abyss.


Reviews 197
ChapterPrinter
StoryPrinter




../back
‘! Go To Top ‘!

Sink Into Your Eyes is hosted by Grey Media Internet Services. HARRY POTTER, characters, names and related characters are trademarks of Warner Bros. TM & © 2001-2006. Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions on this site are those made by the owners. All stories(fanfiction) are owned by the author and are subject to copyright law under transformative use. Authors on this site take no compensation for their works. This site © 2003-2006 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Special thanks to: Aredhel, Kaz, Michelle, and Jeco for all the hard work on SIYE 1.0 and to Marta for the wonderful artwork.
Featured Artwork © 2003-2006 by Yethro.
Design and code © 2006 by SteveD3(AdminQ)
Additional coding © 2008 by melkior and Bear