A/N: Again thanks for the reviews! You really make me happy, so keep them coming! To answer your questions: I won’t tell you yet, who Hermione’s mystery guy is. You either have to wait or, if you really want to know and can’t wait any longer, tell me and I’m going to send you a mail! If they will still trust Harry, well, you just have to wait again. Dumblydoor, why should Harry use Serpensortia? As far as I remember, you conjure a snake by using this spell and not make it disappear. Mmh, whatever…
Now, have fun!
Chapter 19: Repercussions
All was still for a split second. The students and teachers alike looked at the pale boy in shock, not wanting to understand, what he had just told them.
Harry balled his fists tightly, his fingernails almost piercing the skin of his palm, as his body began to tremble with sudden anger. Anger at his failure, at not having taken everything into account and anger at those, who had ruined this promising night! How could he have been so stupid? It had all been so simple!
The students around him now began to panic, pushing towards the doors and again, for the second time that night, Dumbledore’s voice boomed across the hall. “Stay calm and return to your dormitories. Prefects, please make sure that they arrive in one piece. And now, go!”
More bustling filled the hall, but this time it was calmer, more orderly, as the pupils followed their prefects out of the Great Hall. Excited and fearful whispers reached the teachers and members of the Order, as they gathered in the middle of the Hall. Harry looked around and saw equally grim looks on their faces. His fingers were already itching, longing to go out and do something, but he had to wait for Dumbledore’s orders.
Noticing the wary looks his colleagues were giving him, he just stared each and every one of them down, challenging them to say something, even though he knew that now wasn’t the time. Now also wasn’t the time to deal with another person that looked at him as if he had seen a ghost, obviously in denial about what he had just witnessed.
“My friends,” Dumbledore said with a seriousness and determination that wasn’t often seen within the Headmaster. “Hogsmeade is obviously under attack. It is our duty to help them.”
“Bloody right,” Harry mumbled impatiently, causing those near to him and the Headmaster to look at him. He gazed into Dumbledore’s eyes and saw at once that the ever-present twinkle was still gone. With his wand in his hand, Harry motioned to the doors. “What are we still doing here? Instead of talking, we should go out and fight!”
“Harry’s right,” Ron told them. “The longer we wait, the more people might die!”
A collective murmur went through the teachers, some in agreement, some not, causing Harry to become even angrier. Suddenly, his head jerked to the right, as one smaller person with watery eyes stepped forward “ Peter Pettigrew. “P-professor. I’m n-not sure, if we can trust him. You’ve seen, what he did. W-what he is.”
Dumbledore nodded grimly and Harry was sure that he would be interrogated later. “Professor Potter and his friends will come with us to Hogsmeade. They will be of better use there,” he said eventually. And not a danger to the students, Harry understood the hidden motive. “Minerva, Filius, Pomona, I’d like you to stay at school, for the students’ safety. We can’t let any Death Eaters invade the school. Alright, everyone else, follow me!”
Ignoring the angry looks he was getting, Harry pushed past the other teachers and Order members, with Hermione and Ron at his side and after Dumbledore. He was glad for his friends’ support, as they flanked him on their way outside, but the rage in him was far greater than any happy feeling he could conjure. Hopefully there wouldn’t be any Dementors, because Harry was sure that he wouldn’t be able to perform the Patronus Charm.
There was no smile on Harry’s face, just a look of sheer determination and a deep scowl. He could feel the stares in his back, particularly one, but he didn’t turn around. He wasn’t ready to face his father, yet. Later, he told himself. But first he needed to do some violence. He felt the irresistible urge to curse someone, to hurt someone. He wanted to punish someone for his failure.
“What the bleeding hell is going on here?”
Harry turned around startled, when he heard this voice. Draco was running down the stairs into the Entrance Hall, with his black T-shirt hanging over his black jeans and a cloak hurriedly thrown over his shoulders. His silvery blond hair was completely dishevelled, his eyes red and his ghostly pale face blotchy. He appeared to be wheezing slightly, when he came to a halt in front of them and sweat was running down his face.
“What are you doing here?” Harry demanded to know. “Hermione told us you were sick.”
Draco sneered at him, even though it looked ridiculous in his current state. “I just got up to get something to drink and what did I see? A green glow in the direction of Hogsmeade. I came down to tell you about this, but you obviously already know.” After having straightened his cloak, he pulled his wand out of his boot and ran a hand through his hair.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Calm down, Potter. I’m coming with you.”
“You can’t!” His father would be there, Harry reminded himself, but he couldn’t tell Draco this. Not without giving his connection to Voldemort away. Struggling with an explanation, he only came up with the most obvious. “You’re sick.”
Snorting, Draco only replied, “A small flu like this can’t keep me from fighting, Potter.”
“Harry, Draco! Stop it!” Hermione interrupted them firmly, putting a hand on each arm. “We don’t have time to fight! And Harry, get a grip! Draco will come with us, whether you like it or not. We might need every capable wizard we can get.”
“Miss Granger, is right,” Dumbledore said. “We need to hurry, as you’ve pointed out yourself, Mr. Potter.”
Tearing his arm away from his friend, Harry snapped, “Fine!”, opened the strong doors of Hogwarts with a wave of his hand and stalked out into the grounds. He couldn’t lose any more time. Neither caring if his friends were behind him nor caring what they thought of him, he hurried over the grounds and, as soon as he had passed the gates, Disapparated.
Harry appeared in the middle of what could only be described as chaos. Villagers were running around, dodging flying curses and trying to find a hiding place. And among those villagers were the dark cloaked witches and wizards, who were responsible for this.
To avoid a jet of green light, Harry dived out of the way, immediately firing a stunner in the direction the killing curse had come from and hitting its intended target. His eyes darted around, searching for more Death Eaters. A series of loud ‘pops’ behind him alerted him of the arrival of the others, but he ignored them, rushing ahead to disarm another Death Eater and then knock him out with a well placed hook against his jaw.
His knuckles stung slightly, but Harry barely noticed this, as he kept on. Dodging, attacking, firing spells and curses. It was like a dance, a dance he knew very well. The Death Eaters went down like flies, now that the reinforcements from Hogwarts had arrived, and those, who were still standing, mainly targeted innocents and defended themselves against attacks.
He tackled another cloaked man, just as he raised his wand to curse a huddled group of small children. Quickly motioning for the children to run away and hide, he turned to the Death Eater that was just getting to his feet again. The unexplainable rage within him flared up again, when the mask fell aside and he recognized that the man was in fact a woman - dark haired and heavy-lidded.
“Hello Bella,” he growled, kicking her with his boot, before she managed to get up. She slumped again to the ground, breathing heavily, as Harry had obviously managed to break one or more of her ribs. He had never had the chance to revenge Sirius. But now, now he could finally do it. He wanted to hurt her! He wanted her to be in pain! “Crucio!” This word left his mouth, before he had even thought it and the woman on the ground began to scream and writhe in pain. Harry watched this with some kind of sick fascination, his eyes gleaming with the satisfaction this torture brought him.
An explosion let the earth tremble and Harry lost his footing and almost fell. The loss of concentration in this moment caused the curse to fade. Whirling around, he saw that a few buildings went up in flames, with wizards and witches, who had hid in there, locked inside. They were fighting to get out, but almost in vain, as the mostly wooden buildings quickly collapsed under the fire.
Hermione was hurrying towards them, her red gown billowing behind her, followed by Ron, and Harry could hear her shout, “Aguamenti!”, time and time again. Most of the fire went out, but also many lives were lost.
Somehow, this knowledge let an inexplicable happiness surge through him, a feeling of triumph. A smirk crept on his face, as he watched the happenings around him. This was good. All this fear, this panic… It was intoxicating.
He paled, when he realized, just what exactly he was feeling.
Harry barely managed to avoid another stray curse, as he slumped against a wall, grabbing his forehead, suddenly feeling sick. What was wrong with him? He shouldn’t be feeling this. This was wrong!
Shaking his head and trying to clear his thoughts, Harry took a deep breath, as it hit him.
Damn it! The anger, the happiness… Those weren’t his own feelings! How come he hadn’t noticed this before? It was Voldemort! He must have felt angry enough to transfer his feelings to him, after the disaster in the Great Hall. Only how had Voldemort found out?
This isn’t important right now! Harry reminded himself, not, when so many lives were at stake. It was hard, especially now with the battle raging around him, but he had to block him out. Breathe… Slowly, but steadily, Harry felt himself calm down. The happiness disappeared, as did a large part of his anger, just in time, as a voice suddenly cried out,
“Harry! Watch out!”
Fortunately, it had just been a simple stunner, so the shield that Harry had conjured quickly wandlessly didn’t break. He flashed Hermione, who was looking at him worriedly, a quick, reassuring smile, before he pushed himself off the wall. “I’m alright.”
Hermione appeared to be doubtful for a split second, as if contemplating, if he truly told the truth. This short moment almost proved to be fatal, if Harry hadn’t thrown her to the ground before an Avada Kedavra could hit her. “Thanks, Harry,” she mumbled startled, as he helped her up.
Now that he had the chance to take a good look at her, Harry was startled. Her once beautiful gown was torn in several places and stained with blood “ hopefully not her own! “ and dirt. She seemed to be sweating furiously, as strands of hair were sticking to her cheeks and forehead and the rest of her previously perfect hairdo was in complete disarray. And, Harry noticed with mixed feelings, she had lost the necklace. She looked a mess and Harry guessed that he didn’t look much better.
Tearing his eyes away from her, Harry looked around, trusting Hermione to watch his back, and instead of feeling happiness his stomach began to churn at the sight that greeted him. It must have taken him longer to regain his composure than he had thought, as most of the fires were already extinguished, leaving behind wrecked homes and stores, homeless witches and wizards and despair. On the plus side, almost all Death Eaters had already Disapparated, having even taken their stunned or otherwise incapacitated companions with them. Except for one.
“No,” Harry only mumbled and took off, with Hermione close at his heels, towards the two silvery blonds facing each other. He wanted to cry out Draco’s name, but knew that he couldn’t. Lucius would know, no matter what name he chose, now that he had taken a good look at the younger Malfoy.
Hermione almost bumped into him, when Harry suddenly stopped, only merely feet separating them from the two duellers. “Potter, stay out of this!” Draco barked immediately, when he had noticed their arrival. His grey eyes were cold like steel, his face filled with hatred and his body bursting with tension, all signs of his illness gone.
Upon hearing the other man’s name, Lucius Malfoy turned his head slightly, taking in the younger man’s appearance. “Potter?” he drawled. “Related to James Potter?”
As if you don’t know this already, Harry thought, but held his tongue. “We’re cousins,” he answered instead, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible. Immediately he felt him attempting to breach his mind, without success.
“I see.”
Harry thought that Lucius didn’t sound convinced, but at this very moment, he didn’t care. Raising his wand, he threatened, “Leave now. Your henchmen have fled already. If you don’t leave, I’m going to kill you.” Lucius Malfoy laughed, still keeping the superiority in his voice, obviously hoping to scare them. This only let Harry smirk. “Oh, tell your master that I’m going to kill him as well, if he ever dares to show his face around here.” This would be two messages for Voldemort in one night. Harry guessed it would be better, if he kept exercising Occlumency, at least for the coming night.
One last sneer, a ‘pop’ and Lucius Malfoy was gone, leaving a furious Draco in his wake. “What the hell were you thinking, Potter? I told you to stay out of it!”
“You were going to duel with Lucius Malfoy!” Harry yelled back and then hissed, “With your father!”
“Harry is right,” Hermione said, more calmly. “If you really killed him, you would have changed the whole future. Dumbledore still doesn’t know, if our appearance in this time does have any effect on ours, so killing someone, who’s still alive in our time, is simply too risky.”
“Whatever,” Draco grumbled and stuck his wand back into his boot. “But trust Saint Potter to play the hero. Death threats to Lucius and the Dark Lord? Honestly. So much for changing history.”
Waving him off, Harry began to look around the destructed street. “Where’s Ron?”
“We were putting out the fires, when I saw the spell flying at you, so he must still be somewhere there. Maybe helping with the injured. They shall all be brought to Hogwarts,” Hermione informed him, before she suddenly again looked at him, concerned. “Harry, what was going on with you? You didn’t seem to be yourself, while you were fighting.”
“I don’t know,” Harry lied smoothly, running a hand through his hair. His eyes wandered over his wand and he wondered, what the others would say, if they performed Prior Incantato on his wand. An image of Bellatrix Lestrange writhing on the ground shot through his head, so Harry quickly cleared his mind. This had been the first time that he had cast this Unforgivable and that it had worked. It made him sick, knowing all too well, what the victim had to go through. “I guess I was just out of it, after the attack on the Great Hall.”
“There was an attack on the Great Hall?” Draco asked surprised. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“We didn’t have time,” Hermione said curtly. “There was a huge snake. We thought at first that it was a Basilisk, but then…” she trailed off, glancing at Harry.
“Oh Potter, tell me you didn’t… This is just fan-bloody-tastic!” Draco exclaimed, when Harry lowered his gaze. “Why don’t you just announce to the whole world that you’re a bloody Parselmouth? I mean, it isn’t as if we don’t already have enough problems to be accepted here. Showing off your dark abilities might just help us!”
The whole time swearing under his breath, Draco stalked off towards where the others were standing, rounding up the injured, leaving a slightly ashamed Harry and a still concerned Hermione behind. “I-I should…“ she began, motioning with her hands to follow Draco to help the others.
“It’s alright. Go,” he said, wondering if he should help as well. His questions was answered, when Dumbledore came up to him. “Headmaster,” he greeted him grimly, feeling as if he had lost the privilege of calling him by his first name with the stunts that he had pulled in the Great Hall. First talking to the snake and then showing disrespect to the most respected Headmaster Hogwarts had ever had.
“Harry,” Dumbledore said, somewhat kinder than before, but still without the twinkle in his eyes. “I believe we need to talk.”
Confused, Harry asked, “Here? Now? Shouldn’t we help?”
“There’s enough help around here. Everything is taken care of. Now shall we?” Dumbledore handed him the broken sign of the Three Broomsticks and immediately he felt the tug behind his navel.
They appeared in Dumbledore’s office, lit in the soft glow of candles with an elderly Fawkes standing on his perch. The phoenix glanced at Harry with his large beady eyes, trilling a soft tune. Harry couldn’t help but smile slightly at the beautiful red bird despite the obvious tension in the room, while Dumbledore walked around his desk and sat down in his chair.
“Please, sit down Harry,” Dumbledore said.
Not meeting the Headmaster’s gaze, Harry sat down on one the chair in front of the desk. He could feel the older wizard’s scrutinizing eyes on him and shifted nervously on the chair. Harry suddenly felt again like a student after having broken one or several school rules. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, “about how I acted towards you earlier. I was… I have no excuse for this…”
Dumbledore nodded in acknowledgement. “Apology accepted. But this isn’t what concerns me. I’m not going to beat around the bush. You’re a Parselmouth, Harry. I believe you know what this means?”
Sighing, Harry answered, “People will be scared of me.”
“That they will… That they will. Revealing this… unusual ability might make your life in this time more difficult.”
“I know,” Harry admitted, finally looking up, noticing that Dumbledore didn’t seem to be angry with him “ more concerned, actually. His spirits rose a bit and with a small chuckle he said, “I’ve already gone through this in my time.”
“May I ask, what you told the snake?” Part of the spark in Dumbledore’s eyes had returned and the tension in the room lessened considerably.
A wry grin appeared on Harry’s face. When he had first talked to a snake at Hogwarts, his fellow students hadn’t asked this. They had just jumped to conclusions, believing him to be Slytherin’s heir, siccing the snake on the Muggleborn Hufflepuff Justin Finch-Fletchley. In reality, he had called the attacking snake off, but no one except for Ron and Hermione and a handful of other students like Fred and George, who had used Harry’s new won status to make even more jokes (“Make way for the Heir of Slytherin, seriously evil wizard coming through…”), believed him. “I told it to leave and to tell Voldemort that I wouldn’t let him hurt the students.”
Dumbledore gazed at him, his eyes slightly widened in shock. “You do realize that this will alert Voldemort of the existence of another Parselmouth.”
Harry only shrugged, somewhat indifferently, but still with a slight smirk on his face. “He doesn’t know, why I do have this ability, does he? He doesn’t know that I have to thank him for this,” he said, pointing at the scar behind his bangs. “For all I know, he might think that I’m some long lost relative.”
Much to his surprise, Dumbledore suddenly barked out a hearty laugh, as if he found the situation of the long lost relative incredibly amusing. Harry noted happily that the twinkle had by now returned completely. “I believe it might annoy him greatly to believe that a Potter could be related to him.”
“Well, why should he think that he’s the only Heir of Slytherin?” Harry said grinning, but immediately turned serious. “I’m sorry, Albus. I didn’t mean to reveal this ability. It just slipped out. I had to stop the snake and your spells barely worked. I blame my save-people-thing as Hermione usually puts it, but it can’t be undone. We’ve got to live with this, somehow.”
“You’re completely right, Harry. You’ve got to live with this. I believe it also wouldn’t hurt to tell your father about how you came to this ability. He was in great shock about this sudden revelation,” Dumbledore advised him.
Running yet again with his hand through his hair, Harry sighed. “It’s complicated. You said they shouldn’t know yet about the Prophecy and my ability does have almost everything to do with it. Voldemort transferred this ability to me the night he attacked and gave me the scar.”
“I already guessed as much. But maybe you don’t need to tell him the true circumstances of this”“
“You expect me to lie to my father?” Harry exclaimed angrily.
“No, I merely expect you to tell him not everything.” Dumbledore gazed at him over his half-moon spectacles. “I promise, Harry. When the time is right, I’m going to tell them about the Prophecy.”
“Alright,” Harry replied, suddenly feeling drained. This night had been rather… eventful to say the least and he began to long for his bed. “I’ll to think about it.”
“You should head to your rooms now, Harry. Everything’s been taken care of. I’m sure you’re going to meet your friends there.”
“Future’s past,” Harry mumbled tiredly and the portrait swung open. Stepping inside from the dimly lit corridor, Harry blinked a few times to get used to the light in their common room.
He hadn’t met anyone on his way from the Headmaster’s office to their rooms, even after having taken a small detour past the Hospital Wing. It had been completely dark and he couldn’t hear anything through the doors, so he just assumed that Dumbledore had been right. Everything had been taken care of and most had gone to bed.
As soon as the portrait had swung shut behind him, Harry found that he couldn’t breathe under the load of long brown hair that had suddenly assaulted him. “Oh Harry, we’ve been so worried!”
“Don’t worry,” Harry croaked, slowly peeling Hermione off him. He saw that she had tears in her eyes and that Ron, who was standing a few feet behind her, was incredibly pale. “Dumbledore whisked me away from the battlefield. He wanted to talk to me.” At the somewhat confused looks on his friends’ faces, he elaborated, “About the attack of the snake and… what I did.”
Looks of understanding passed their faces and they relaxed visible. Harry noticed that they hadn’t changed out of their battle worn clothes yet and that both appeared to be nearly asleep on their feet. It had truly been a hard night.
“Where’s Draco?” Harry asked, first now noticing the absence of the fourth time traveller.
Hermione chuckled slightly, before she explained, “When Madame Pomfrey had seen that he was with us and that he had been in Hogsmeade, she had immediately sent him back to bed. I believe he has actually done what she had told him, as he hadn’t been here, when we arrived.”
Harry noticed slightly bemused that Hermione didn’t appear as worried about Draco’s health as just a couple of hours ago, especially after the battle, but he didn’t think much of it. He was too tired to deal with this right now. His bed was calling to him and there was still some other important stuff that he needed to ask. “Speaking of Madame Pomfrey. Where are all the injured that were brought to Hogwarts. The Hospital Wing is completely quiet.”
Hermione and Ron exchanged a quick glance, before the redhead said, “Most of them had been transferred to St. Mungo’s. Only those with light injuries stayed here over night and will be released tomorrow. The other teachers also agreed to help tomorrow, to, you know, clear up.”
Nodding, Harry unclasped his ruined dress robes and threw the black cloak over his arm. “Well, I guess we have a busy weekend ahead of us. I’m gonna head to bed. Wake me, if I sleep in.” With only a quick wave and a reassuring smile at his friends, Harry went into his room, where he only barely managed to strip down to his shorts before he slumped on his bed, already half asleep. It was only in his subconscious mind that he heard the House Elf picking up the lazily scattered clothes from the floor. First after it had disappeared with a quiet ‘pop’, Harry gave in to the darkness.
The following morning, when Harry and his friends, sans Draco, as he still wasn’t allowed to leave his bed on orders from Madame Pomfrey, came into the Great Hall for breakfast, every single student fell silent. Harry felt their eyes boring into his back, when he passed them and was aware of the quiet whispers that the students exchanged.
Great, Harry thought, his inner voice dripping with sarcasm, this is just second year all over again.
Dumbledore smiled at them friendly, if also a bit subdued, while other teachers eyed them, and especially Harry, suspiciously, before they returned to their breakfast. When Harry glanced over the four house tables, he also noticed that several other people, bitter and defeated looking wizards and witches from Hogsmeade, were present. With a pang at his heart, Harry realized that those people must have lost a lot in the previous night.
As soon as all plates were cleared, Dumbledore rose from his chair with a sombre look on his face. “Dear students, dear guests,” he began and once again no sound was to be heard from the students, as he had their rapt attention. “As you’ve probably all heard by now, there has been a Death Eater attack on Hogsmeade last night, with grievous consequences. A large part of the village was destroyed and the attack has cost many lives. Hogwarts is now host for witches and wizards, who have lost their homes. I ask all of you to help them adjust as well as possible.” Murmurs of understanding went through the students, but Dumbledore raised his hands, silencing them once again. “There’s, however, another thing I want to ask the students that are already of age: To rebuild the village, we need as much help as we can get. Your help would be very much appreciated. Thank you.”
Several of the older students, who were already of age, meaning seventeen or older, began to whisper to each other, or simply nodded their approval. As it was a weekend, Harry heard that most of them wanted to use to it clear up or repair as much as possible. He was impressed by their dedication to do good things.
Just as the students wanted to rise from their tables, a huge flock of owls suddenly swarmed the Great Hall. The mail is late today, Harry only thought, as the Daily Prophet was dropped on Hermione’s plate. Harry barely noticed this, as he was looking for the familiar grey owl of his parents, somehow hoping that they would write to him after the previous night, but in vain. Sighing, he turned to Hermione, only to see her ashen face, her lips pressed to a thin line, as she was staring at the front page.
“Something about the attack?” he asked curiously, now also gaining Ron’s attention.
Hermione shook her head hesitantly and reluctantly showed Harry the front page. A deep scowl appeared on his face, when he read the headline.
Harry groaned, as he had finished the article and put the newspaper aside, burying his face in his hands. “Fan-bloody-tastic,” he only mumbled, using Draco’s words from the previous night to sum the whole situation up.