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The War We Fight | ||||||
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Category: Post-OotP Characters:Albus Dumbledore, Dumbledore, Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom, Ron Weasley Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, Fluff Warnings: Violence Rating: PG-13 Reviews: 175 Summary: This is the story of a war. A war between good and evil, light and dark. This is the war Harry will fight, where he will learn the meanings of life and death, love and friendship, sorrow and betrayal, honor and hardship. This is the war where he will fulfill his destiny. H/G with some R/H sixth year fic. Hitcount: Story Total: 95180; Chapter Total: 4462 |
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Chapter 10: Trouble in Paradise Harry had been in Grimmauld place for almost a whole week, and he was ready to jump out the top window if it meant getting even a wisp of fresh air. He hadn't realized that coming back would be quite this hard. Image after image of other times, happier times, seemed to jump at him from every corner, slowly plunging him into that helpless state he had worked so hard to escape. The house still served as Order headquarters, even though Harry had learned that everything that had been Sirius' was now his. He figured that, if things got rough, it would be a nice bargaining chip to have against Dumbledore if he didn't change his attitude soon. Harry just hoped things didn't go that bad… The sorting hat may have recognized this more devious side of him, ready to take the lead when needed, but that didn't mean that he liked using it. However, he didn't think at that precise moment that this situation would be resolved without a bit of, we might call it, aggressive negotiations; he wouldn't have his ear glued to the door, and a couple of Fred and George's extendable ears making their way into an Order meeting unannounced if Dumbledore had been acting reasonably. He didn't precisely enjoy sitting in the hard stone floor, after all. Trying to find a comfortable position, he thought ruefully that the Order was growing lax in their security precautions: now that the Twins were in, Molly wasn't quite as careful with her imperturbable charms as she had been. They shouldn't have let their guard down like this: the war was still in full swing, and the Ears were a common product, available to anyone that happened to waltz inside Weasley Wizarding Whizzes. Concentrating on the voices coming in from the kitchen, Harry prepared to listen to the news he shouldn't have had to sneak around to hear. Moody was in the middle of his report: "…he is silent here in England, but many foreign factions are appearing around Europe. From what I have gathered from Intel, the largest ones are in France, Germany, Hungary and Poland. We fear that in those eastern countries he might try to contact the vampire population. The leaders of those foreign factions are all inside You-Know-Who's inner circle, and respond only to him: this makes them even more dangerous, I believe, for they have true power of decision, and may attack with much more ease than we can defend with all the political struggles and responsibility issues. Right now, these factions are slowly but surely building attack forces, capable of taking action as soon as a sign from their master is sent. Their response time, right now, should be around 20 minutes. Ours, roughly calculated by the aurors, should be about the triple of that. Facing the facts, if the Death Eaters chose to attack today, they would have an hour free reign to deal as much damage to their target as they want, and then escape unscathed." Moody had delivered the report in a monotonous, unemotional voice. It was the voice of a seasoned fighter used to the most dire circumstances, and prepared to face them head on, with no illusions as to what exactly it was he was up against. "Do you know what it is he is waiting for? You-Know-Who knows we are not ready to face him, that if he attacked today he would most probably have free reign of the continent in a matter of days!” Tonks voice, the only fixed thing about her whole appearance, was tight with worry. It wasn't Moody, however, that answered. Dumbledore's voice was tired and more worn than any of them had ever heard it as he spoke to the whole Order. "He wants to be sure that there will be no surprises awaiting him here. Tom wants to secure his home ground before venturing further into the world. He is keeping his forces close to him, so as not to be spread thin should something happen in Britain. Harry's stubborn refusal to tell him what the prophecy says has proved to him that it is important information. He won't proceed before he is confident in his total victory. He won't risk another fiasco such as the one that happened fifteen years ago." No one seemed to know what to answer to this. The members seemed to be deep in their own thoughts reflecting on the repercussions this news might have in their own private war. Each and every one of them could see that it meant only more fighting, more slaughter, in their own home. "Moving on,” said Dumbledore, "it is my wish to take advantage of our complete numbers and discuss what has happened to Harry. The boy hasn't been open regarding his capture, and has limited his accounts to the bare minimum. I want reports from everyone that has been in contact with him. We need to be able to predict his action, have an idea of what is going on in his mind. Know exactly how the torture has affected him, so as to be able to take action if needed." Severus Snape sneered, although Harry couldn't see it. He heard, however, the contempt in his voice when he said: "I say we block his powers until he is able to control them. Every one of us can feel that he is close to losing control. A backlash that strong could tear down the wards and put the entire Order in danger. It would be in the best interest of all of us to put a restrain in them." Harry, hearing this, did indeed have a hard time controlling his raging emotions. How dare they? How dare they even suggest such an action? He was bound to his magic, as strongly and as completely as anyone ever was. Since his ordeal at Malfoy manor he felt it pulsing, deep inside him, every moment of the day, just as he felt his heart; he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that his magic was just as much an integral part of him as the blood that flowed in his veins. He hadn't figured out exactly what had happened to his powers, he only knew that it had something to do with the spell he had used to escape, and that had thrown the Death Eater at the wall. What he did know, however, was that him and his magic were no longer two separate identities, but two parts of a whole. If Snape thought he could somehow separate them, he had never been more mistaken in his life. Dumbledore let the Potions Master finish talking, but as soon as he stopped, and before the angry muttering reached unwanted proportions, he stepped in: "Severus,” he said tiredly, "we've gone over this already. We don't know exactly the extent of the psychological damage caused by his capture. I wouldn't want to put him through another wrenching experience so soon. Furthermore, I don't think that there is anyone in this room with enough power to contain his, except if the procedure was done willingly. You are, of course, free to try and convince him Severus.” The last was said with a small laugh. Harry, outside the door, bristled angrily. Dumbledore had no right to be talking about him like this. He didn't even know if there was any psychological damage done to him, and he was appalled that the Headmaster was even considering taking his magic away from him. The mere thought was enough to terrify him, and there wasn't much this days that could terrify him. He was sure he couldn't live without his magic, with each passing day it became more and more of an integral part of him, as essential as any of his other organs. That his own allies, the very people that had sworn to protect him, were considering robbing him of his magic, what had the world come to? Turning his attention back to the meeting, he heard Dumbledore speak: "Well, does anyone have any relevant conversations to report?” Dumbledore asked pleasantly. So, thought Harry, now I'm being officially spied upon by the Order. How very charming! He smiled sardonically. Remus cleared his throat uncomfortably before saying: "I'm not very comfortable with where this meeting is going Albus. I think that, if we are to discuss Harry, he should at least be present, in order to give his opinion. It is not fair to make decisions concerning his welfare without him.” All the while, Remus was glaring with something akin to hate in his eyes, at the Potions Master. "I understand, Remus, that you may feel uncomfortable with this, however, you have to understand that it is all for the best. I don't want any unnecessary amount of stress to be put upon Harry. The more time he has to recover, the better. We have to keep in mind, however, that as long as Harry doesn't master Occlumency, he is a liability and must therefore be treated as such. We don't know how his prolonged exposure to both the Cruciatus and Voldemort affected him. I don't want any information he might come across to somehow, even unwittingly, fall into the wrong hands." The silence that followed this statement was, to Harry, one of the most dreadful in his life. He had never thought possible that the very people he trusted the most, the one he had counted upon to keep him in the loop and help him prepare, were the very ones he know discovered were actively working against him. Anger at that moment would be welcome, he thought; the disappointment, the pain of betrayal would then be much more bearable. Sitting outside the door, he did not see the disapproving gazes of many Order members, that didn't, however, feel free to oppose openly to their leader. Sitting outside the door, he felt totally and completely alone, as even the hope of support was now gone. After a few moments, Dumbledore spoke again: If there are no other comments, we can move forward. Is there anyone with relevant information? What has he been doing with his time, is he still close to his friends, what has he been reading, what was his reaction to coming back to Grimmauld place? Any information at all is welcome, and may help us understand his state of mind at the moment." Slowly, people began to talk. And soon, comments and stories began to overlap, people rushing to give Dumbledore all the information they had. Everything he had said and done since arriving back at Hogwarts was gone over and analysed, as if he was some sort of interesting test subject. Outside the door, Harry had trouble believing his ears. Loads of voices, people he didn't even realize he knew, that he didn't even know watched him, spoke. "He seems to be spending much more time reading than is natural." "Yes, only Defence books, Ginny brought them to him, even when he was in the hospital." "He is training a lot too, I think he must have gotten his hands in some kind of Auror training guide, the things he seems to know, and some of the exercises he's been doing can only be found in there." "He isn't talking to Ron at all. And Hermione spends her whole time with him, so Harry doesn't talk to her either." "They spend hours locked in the library, doing research. And it's not for homework, he finished that ages ago." "When he walks into a room nowadays, there's this stifling feeling of barely contained power. It's quite scary actually… I'm always expecting something to blow up. I guess it's only a matter of time, or of someone getting to him enough." With each voice that spoke, Harry felt a little more of his trust in the Order wither and die. He took note of those that didn't talk, and that he knew were the ones he would, later on, be able to trust again. Possibly. In the distant future. "He's teaching my Ginny things too. They spend hours on end in that parlour, studying, and doing strange movements and exercises. But I know that none of it is schoolwork. I've seen some of the books. All advanced spells, old magic." "Old magic?” asked Dumbledore, startled. "What kind of old magic, Molly?" "The book was called, something like Altus Fides: a guide to old magic protections and shields I didn't say anything to them at the time, but I was worried Dumbledore. They are too young to be messing around with old magic. I knew it wasn't a good idea to leave the library open here." She sounded honestly distressed, and Harry laughed internally. If she was worried about that particular book, perfectly innocent in his opinion, he wondered what she'd say to some others he and Ginny had found in the library of Sirius' house. It had become their new hiding place, as no one liked to enter the gloomy old room. "The library will open for him with or without our interfering, Molly. This house is his, and it acknowledges it, even if the portraits don't. Even the wards are his to control, if he wanted. The only reason they still respond to me is that Harry hasn't wished for anything different, and hasn't actively tried to fight my control. We must tread carefully in this matter." "But Albus, they are just children, they shouldn't be meddling in those things. It is dangerous magic." "I know, Molly. For the time being, I will do nothing, but rest assured, I am taking the matter into consideration.” His voice made it clear that that particular matter was not open to discussion. Dumbledore spoke to the silence that followed: "I thank you all for your openness and willingness to share this crucial information. I will be talking to Harry tomorrow, and it is useful to be informed of what I will be facing. During our last meeting, he wasn't as forthcoming as he usually is." A voice, that Harry did not know, but that sounded harsh and mocking, while still maintaining a certain feminine grace, said: "What you mean to say, Professor, is that Harry didn't let you lose in his mind, and that you are wondering where he learned to block the most accomplished legilimens in the world without your help.” She laughed, a sound that reminded Harry of tinkling bells and warm summer nights, and that left him completely mesmerized, before continuing. "I find it, on the contrary, quite admirable that at such a young age he has already enough control over his thoughts, emotions and above all his magic, to maintain such a strong mental shield. He should be congratulated, Dumbledore, not spied upon in such a dishonourable way." There was a deafening silence inside Grimmauld Place's kitchen, but outside, Harry was grinning. He had an ally after all. An unknown ally as of yet, but someone he looked forward to meeting. "It is refreshing to see that you have lost none of your honesty, Elektra. You'll be able to congratulate him for his magical accomplishments if you so desire. You have, after all, accepted my proposition, haven't you?" "Indeed. I have a debt that needs to be paid. But there will be no reporting, Dumbledore. What I do, say and teach, are my business, and my business alone. I am not a member of the Order, nor do I plan to become one, and I owe you nothing at all. I want that to be very clear, Professor.” She said this calmly, but there was no questioning her seriousness or the scarcely veiled accusation in her words. "I could argue that Hogwarts being my school, I have the right to have a say on everything that goes on under its roof and inside its grounds. However, for better or for worse, I trust you Elektra, and I trust your judgement in this matter. So let us drop this subject and move forward, it is getting late" The young woman snorted derisively, and whispered, so that only those closer to her could listen: "You trust no one Dumbledore, that's your problem." Meanwhile the Headmaster continued the meeting, drawing up plans of action and hearing other members' reports. But Harry couldn't process any of it. His mind was still numb after everything he had heard; still shocked at the callous and manipulative way Dumbledore was treating him. He shouldn't have been fooled by the old man's act in the hospital wing. He should have known better. But he realized, even as his feelings for the headmaster took a turn for the worst, that he would still need his help, that he would still need training and guidance. Dumbledore was the only wizard he knew that could provide both. He would have to find a way to work with the old coot. This realization didn't stop the flows of anger and disappointment flooding Harry's system, and he chose not to let go of them. If he came prepared for the worst, there would be no surprises during their little conversation Dumbledore had planned for the next day. Suddenly, when Harry realized that the sounds coming from inside the kitchen had changed and that meant the meeting was probably over, he got up quickly and silently, moved towards the staircase, and hid near the top, behind the thick old banister. … He wanted to take a good look at the Order, try to discover who the new members were, see if he could get a glimpse of the woman who had taken his side. He wanted to meet her. He felt, with a deep and unexplained certainty, that he could trust her. It was if he recognised her from his past, which was crazy, considering he had never seen her before. He was disappointed, as most members left hastily, hoods drawn and not talking. He didn't even see of some if his old acquaintances were still working for Dumbledore. But he supposed that, if anything had happened, he would have known. Bad new had a way of always finding their way to him. Sighing heavily, his mind working overtime to try and assimilate everything he had heard, Harry made his way upstairs, taking care to muffle his footsteps with a little internal magic (a trick Ginny had found and that was proving immensely helpful) and jumping over the creaking steps. He stopped at the landing when he noticed that there was still light streaming from under Hermione's door. She was still awake then. Following some mad desire to talk to his almost sister again, Harry knocked lightly and pushed the door open. He knew it was probably a mistake; Hermione had made it quite clear that, even if neutral in words, she was going to support Ron in their stupid little argument. It didn't matter to Harry. He needed to know if he still had a friend, if he could still count on a welcoming ear, an unflinching ally. He wanted to talk to her alone before they were back at the crazy world that was Hogwarts, and this was as good a place and a time as any. At least it wasn't a planned meeting… She wouldn't have time to get her story straight; she would have to be honest. Hermione was lying on the bed, wearing nothing but a thin nightgown. She was propped on her elbows, a thick, leather-bound book in front of her. Harry realized almost instantly that he could see much more of her skin than she would usually allow and that the nightgown left very little to the imagination; he felt his cheeks go warm. Slapping himself internally, and remembering why he was here, he cleared his throat, to make his presence known. Hermione gave a startled gasp, and turned quickly, covering herself with the sheets. Smiling slightly at her dishevelled appearance, he said in a light conversational voice: "Hello, Mione. Do you mind if I come in for a sec? I wanted to talk to you." "Oh, Harry! You startled me! I didn't hear you come in!” She took a deep calming breath. "Come in, just close the door behind you, will you.” Her voice sounded a little tense, and Harry noticed that she was fiddling with the sheets, twisting them in her hands. It annoyed him a little that he couldn't even have a simple, innocent conversation with Hermione without having her worry about Ron. He had thought they were better friends than that. "Are you alright, Hermione?” he asked. "We haven't spoken in a long time, I wanted to see how you were doing." "I'm fine, Harry, don't worry about me.” But her answer sounded forced, and Harry didn't buy it even for a second. "I should be the one asking that… How are you holding up?" Harry, for a second, felt like giving her the usual "I'm fine” she had seen fit to offer him. However, thinking about all the things they had faced together, he decided to honour her with a truthful answer. "I've been… dealing with stuff, Mione. I won't lie and say it's been all sunshine and roses, too much happened in too little time… sometimes I can't even believe that all of this is real. But Ginny's been a great help.” He had hopped to get a reaction from her with that last comment, maybe an explanation for her distance and coldness, or, if he was really lucky, an apology All she did, however, was nod uncertainly, and twist the sheets a little more forcefully. She was, Harry noticed, totally uncomfortable with his presence. What had happened to their easy friendship? Their brutal honesty? God, he missed his Hermione, the bushy haired, know-it-all, who liked to mother him to death, and whom he had saved from an angry Troll. It was obvious she was not in this room, so he decided to leave this other girl, this stranger, be. Not wanting to intrude any longer, he started backing towards the door, and apology at the tip of his tongue. "Should I go, Mione?” he asked at last, one hand already holding the doorknob. "No!” she cried. "Don't go… It's just… Harry, I-I miss you, but I wouldn't like Ron to see you here, he would freak out!” She was pleading, begging him to understand, and to forgive her. "I know, Hermione. I just wished that my problems with Ron wouldn't hurt our friendship. It's unfair to make you chose between us. I just wanted to keep being your friend, to be able to, once in a while, carry on a conversation with you without having to hide and sneak inside your room during the night.” He said all of it quietly, calmly, trying to keep all accusation out of his voice. He didn't want to make her feel guilty; he only wanted his friend back. She had tears in her eyes, threatening to stream down her face at any moment now, but she had at least stopped torturing the poor sheets, and was only staring at Harry, struggling to say something. Anything. "I also want to continue being your friend Harry. I'm sorry I haven't been there for you. I-I really wanted to. It's horrible to be right here, under the same roof, and not being able to talk. I had thought that, if I didn't get involved in your argument, it would be fine. But Ron wants to hear nothing about it. He said that if I so much as spoke to you, he would know I had chosen a side. I know it's horrible, Harry, but I don't want to abandon him know. I'll do more good by his side, trying to convince him to make up with you, than fighting him, being another enemy. I don't want to abandon him, Harry. His family has already turned its back on him…" All through her tirade, Harry said nothing. It was all perfect logic, obviously, it was Hermione he was dealing with, but when she talked about the Weasleys, he snapped back: "They turned their backs on him because he is wrong, Hermione. Look at the way he's been treating Ginny! All of it simply because she helped me, was a friend when I needed one the most. I was slipping Hermione! I didn't have anything left to live for, or at least that was what it felt like at the time. After Sirius… After Sirius died, I was a goner, Voldemort would have had his work cut out for him. She brought me back!” His eyes were clouded, his voice brimming with emotion. "Yes, but look what those letters did: you, imprisoned by You-Know-Who; Ginny again under his radars and having visions that could rival with yours!” Hermione immediately realized that it was the wrong thing to say. Harry's green eyes flashed with a dark light. She might be certain he would never intentionally hurt her, the power she felt in the air was still enough to make her shake in fear. Harry was furious, and when he spoke it was in a tightly controlled voice: "You may be right. After all, no good deed goes unpunished, and every action has it opposite. To keep the cosmos balanced, or so they say.” His voice dripped sarcasm. "However, what I am certain, Hermione, is that her letters were what kept me going, they're what made me want to stay alive. I would never have gotten out of that place if I didn't have something to hope for, and without Ginny, I wouldn't have anything to hope for. She saved me… And I will never be able to thank her enough. If there had been no letters, it is possible that there would have been no kidnapping - and that's not a certainty, I have information that Voldemort needs - but there would be no Harry either to save the freaking wizarding world. So you shouldn't be blaming Ginny for something she did with the purest and most noble intention, taking every measure of precaution she had at her disposal. You should, in fact, be eternally grateful that she took an initiative no one else did." As he spoke, small sparks of power seemed to erupt around his hands, and Hermione cowered in fear. She was at the same time amazed and afraid of the display of power in front of her, but most of all she wanted it to end. She wondered what had happened to Harry, what had made his powers grow this much in such a small amount of time. There was a time she might have asked, but she felt she had lost the right to enquire after such personal details of Harry's life. Not that he would have answered if she had had the guts to ask… he was obviously quite angry, and apparently not done with his speech. "As for Ginny,” he continued, "it's a fact that she's at a risk. I know it, she knows it, even her parents know it. And we're all willing to accept the risk, as there is nothing else for it. There is no alternative path, no hideout safe enough for her while Voldemort,” she flinched and his eyes flashed at her cowardice, "is still alive. We must carry on, keep building a world worth living on, worth fighting for, otherwise, he has already won." He paused, and waited for some kind of reaction. Hermione didn't even have tears left to cry; she just sat in the bed, stunned, and for the first time in many years, speechless. "You know I would never let anything happen to Ginny, if it were in my power to stop it, don't you Hermione? I would trade my life for hers, if it meant she would be safe. I thought you of all people would understand and respect that." He threw a last, half angry, half disappointed look at her, and left the room, without a backwards glance. The stifling feeling of barely contained power left with him, and Hermione was once again able to take a deep, shuddering breath. She fell down on the bed, clutching her pillow, realising, for the first time that week, that her action and her choices really did have consequences, and that she might, however unwittingly, have lost a friend because of her unfeeling comments and linear logic. She closed her eyes and cried herself to sleep. A/N: I hope you all enjoyed the new chapters. The next is already with my beta, Andy (by the way, I need to thank you again, you're great!) so you should see it soon enough! |
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