Harry Potter and the Enemy Within

Chapter 9 - The Dark Mark

CHAPTER 9: The Dark Mark

Harry struggled through the next week feeling utterly alone. He missed Sirius terribly. He considered writing to Remus, but there was no way he could explain what he was feeling in a letter. In truth, he wasn’t sure if he could explain it at all. Luckily, he had a couple of things to take his mind off his depression.

The mystery of Malfoy’s Polyjuice Potion remained. Hermione was certain the potion would be ready soon, but they still had no idea what Malfoy was planning despite shadowing the Slytherin whenever possible.

However, Harry, Ron and Ginny were all increasingly distracted from this puzzle by the upcoming match against Hufflepuff. The Gryffindor team had been practicing hard during the last few weeks and Harry felt confident that they were going to win. In the days leading up to the match, his spirits were buoyed by anticipation.

They had perfect weather the day of the match. It was cold and clear and the whole school turned out to watch as usual.

From the outset, the Hufflepuffs were no match for the Gryffindors who played as though possessed. Within an hour Gryffindor was ahead by 120 points, then Harry spotted the Snitch. Harry raced towards it and saw the Hufflepuff Seeker, Kevin Whitby, closing on the tiny ball as well. It was going to be a near thing as to which of them got to the Snitch first and Harry lay flat on his broom to urge it to greater speed. The whole crowd below was shouting encouragement to one Seeker or the other. Harry was gaining on the Snitch and he was certain that he’d reach it ahead of the Hufflepuff. The frenzied cheering from below had reached an earsplitting volume when it suddenly changed to what sounded like a collective gasp. There was a moment of complete silence which was broken by a terrified scream.

Harry glanced down in alarm to see what had happened. The single scream had been joined by a mounting chorus of others.

Harry slowed and looked around at the other Quidditch players, but they all seemed to be frozen in shock. Kevin Whitby, who had been racing Harry to the Snitch sat on his broom unmoving, staring up in horror. Harry followed his gaze and at last understood what had caused the fear in the stands. Above him, directly over the Quidditch pitch, glowed the Dark Mark.

Harry was stunned. It wasn’t possible. Voldemort couldn’t be at Hogwarts. But the moment of shock passed and Harry realized that in fact Voldemort wasn’t there. Harry didn’t feel even the slightest twinge of pain in his scar which he certainly would have if Voldemort were anywhere nearby. Harry felt overwhelming relief. Never had he been so grateful for his scar.

But his relief was instantly replaced by angry resolve. Someone had sent up the Dark Mark and Harry was going to find him. Harry pulled up on his broom and soared above the stands, circling the stadium. From this vantage point he searched the grounds to see if he could spot anyone who shouldn’t be there. There was no one except a few terrified students fleeing the stadium. Whoever had cast the Dark Mark had somehow managed to slip away unseen.

Harry nudged his broom back down amongst the stands where the students had begun to panic. The exits were all jammed as everyone tried to run and Harry was certain someone was going to be crushed by the crowds that continued to push forward.

The situation was made worse by the fact that most of the teachers had no way to reach the terrified children. Only McGonagall and Snape had managed to get a hold of brooms. They were flying over the crowds desperately trying to restore order. But their efforts were nearly useless. There was no way for two people to stem the chaos.

Harry had an idea and looked around for the other Quidditch players. Both teams still sat their brooms either too dazed to think of landing or wise enough to realize they were safer in the air. Harry flew up to the players.

“Come on! We have to help calm things down!” he said.

The other players stared at him blankly.

“Snap out of it!” he yelled. He gestured to the stands.

“Look at that! We have to help or somebody’s going to get killed!”

This succeeded in getting the players’ attention and although they still looked scared they also looked capable of acting.

“Hufflepuffs, you take the left side of the stadium, Gryffindors, we’ll take the right. Just fly over the stands and do whatever you can to calm everyone down.”

The others nodded and they all split up. Harry flew in close to the section where the Ravenclaws were and tried to get the attention of the students nearest him.

“Stop shoving!” he yelled. A few of the students glanced his way, but otherwise his entreaty had no effect. He flew up to the front of the crowd that had choked the exit. People were packed in so tightly, he wasn’t sure how anyone could breathe.

He swooped at the crowd.

“Back up!” he yelled.

Startled by Harry’s sudden maneuver, the students stopped pushing forward. There was no room to actually retreat, but they did relax and lean almost imperceptibly backward. However, this slight movement seemed to be amplified as it rippled back through the tightly packed crowd. The backward momentum picked up speed, knocking some students off their feet. The human wave broke against the front of the stands and Harry watched in horror as three students were thrown over the railing. One boy was caught by his classmates, but the others fell towards the ground. Harry was already racing forward. He caught one student, a girl, and pulled her across his broom in front of him, then dove sharply. He reached the other student and grabbed his arm. The ground was very near and Harry pulled up hard on this broom.

Alone, he could have pulled out of the dive easily. He had pulled out of steeper ones dozens of times, both in practice and in matches. But with the weight of three people his Firebolt simply couldn’t respond as nimbly. He had almost leveled out when they hit the ground.

Harry heard a snap and a cry of pain then he and the two Ravenclaws were tumbling across the pitch. They came to rest in a tangled heap. Harry had had the wind knocked out of him, but was unhurt. The girl, who looked like a first year, was sobbing hysterically, but appeared unhurt as well. The boy was groaning in pain and clutching his ankle which Harry knew was probably broken. Otherwise, the boy seemed in good shape though. At least no one was dead.

Harry looked around at the complete pandemonium. Students were pouring out of the stands and running panic-stricken in every direction. Some were crying, others screaming. It was complete bedlam and Harry felt utterly helpless for one of the few times in his life.

“CALM DOWN, EVERYONE!” boomed a deep voice that carried easily over the din and confusion.

It was so unexpected that everyone did indeed stop and look around for the speaker. Dumbledore stood in the middle of the pitch at once calm and commanding.

“THERE IS NO DANGER HERE BEYOND WHAT WE INFLICT ON EACH OTHER!” He flicked his wand skyward. “FINITE INCANTATEM!” he said as though banishing a first year’s charm that had gone awry.

The Dark Mark vanished instantly and without a trace. A murmur of relief ran through the crowd.

Madam Pomfrey came running up to Harry at that moment. She looked a bit frazzled, but otherwise her professionalism was intact.

“Mr. Potter! Are any of you hurt?”

“I think his ankle’s broken,” Harry said indicating the boy next to him.

The nurse examined the ankle briefly then healed it with a wave of her wand.

“Get back up to the castle and take Miss Bentley with you,” she said told the boy then turned to Harry. “Mr. Potter, I need you to get me up to the stands.”

Harry nodded. He picked up his broom, mounted it and waited for Madam Pomfrey to climb on behind him.

“Take me around so I can see who’s hurt,” Pomfrey told him.

Harry nodded acknowledgement and kicked off. He circled the stands slowly. The panic was over. Most of the teachers were now on hand and the students who could walk were beginning to disperse in an orderly fashion. However, there was a distressing number who seemed to have been injured in the stampede. Some appeared to be unconscious, or at least Harry fervently hoped they were.

He looked around worriedly for his friends and housemates. He spotted Ron almost at once with Hermione in the Gryffindor section. McGonagall was there as well and they were tending to Neville, who although clearly injured, didn’t seem to be in serious condition. Harry didn’t see Ginny and looked around anxiously for her. Finally, he saw her in the Ravenclaw section, helping the injured alongside Luna Lovegood.

“Take me down there,” Madam Pomfrey said, pointing to a group of Hufflepuffs.

Harry landed at once to find an unconscious girl cradled in the arms of another who had to be her older sister. The older girl was sobbing inconsolably as Madam Pomfrey knelt down to examine the younger girl. Professor Sprout was there and looked ready to cry as well. Ernie Macmillan was standing nearby and spoke up.

“In all the pushing and shoving, Alice fell,” he said miserably. “Eleanor, Owen and I tried to get to her, but it was just too crowded. We couldn’t help her.”

“It’s her first year,” the sobbing girl choked out. “She was so excited about coming to Hogwarts. Please, Madam Pomfrey, is she going to be all right?”

“She’ll get the best of care, Miss Branstone, I promise,” Pomfrey answered kindly, but Harry noted that she hadn’t actually answered the girl’s question.

Madam Pomfrey conjured a stretcher and settled the injured girl on it. The Hufflepuffs stepped aside to make way for the stretcher. Professor Sprout put her arm around Eleanor Branstone’s shoulder and they followed the stretcher out.

Harry glanced around to see if anyone else needed help, but no one seemed to. Harry clapped Ernie on the shoulder in mute sympathy. They nodded grimly to each other and Harry took off.

The stadium was nearly empty now. All the injured had been taken back up to the castle and a few of the teachers were rounding up the stragglers. Harry flew straight up to the castle and landed on the lawn. This wasn’t permitted by school rules, but at the moment Harry doubted anyone would care.

Students were milling around, some looking dazed, some frightened. Many were speculating on where the Dark Mark had come from. Harry saw Dumbledore approaching. He wore an unusually determined expression and carried the same air of calm control that he had shown at the stadium. He was flanked by Professors Snape and McGonagall.

McGonagall was clearly livid and Harry was reminded of a cat with its hackles up. Her hair had come loose from its neat bun and her eyes darted over the students she passed looking for any sign of injury or distress that might fuel her righteous anger. Snape, on the other hand, looked grim and withdrawn. He seemed not to notice the students at all and appeared lost in thought.

The teachers swept up the steps to the entrance hall and Harry hesitated only a moment before following them. Dumbledore and the others headed straight for the hospital wing. It was packed with students who had obviously been injured at the match. Harry shoved his way in to find Dumbledore greeting each student warmly while McGonagall looked as though she considered every injury to be a personal affront. Snape was nowhere to be seen, so Harry approached Dumbledore.

“Professor, may I speak with you a moment?”

“Of course, Harry,” Dumbledore said.

“Right after the Dark Mark appeared, I flew up to have a look and I didn’t see anyone suspicious at all. Whoever it was, they were either invisible or hiding in the stadium.”

Dumbledore exchanged a brief look with McGonagall, then addressed Harry.

“Thank you, Harry. That does help us.”

At that moment, Professor Snape and Madam Pomfrey came out of the back ward.

“I will have the potion for you by tomorrow afternoon,” Snape was saying.

“Thank you, Professor,” Pomfrey said. “Miss Branstone’s condition is critical and there’s nothing more I can do for her without the Nerve Regeneration draught.”

“Headmaster,” Snape said as they came up to Dumbledore. “Madam Pomfrey requires my services at once. I’m afraid my other duties will have to wait.”

“By all means, Professor,” Dumbledore replied. “The students are our first priority.”

Snape nodded and left the ward. He hadn’t even glanced at Harry.

“Mr. Potter, are you hurt?” Madam Pomfrey asked.

“No, Madam Pomfrey.”

“Then I want you out of here,” the matron said sternly. “There is no place for visitors right now.”

“Right.” Harry nodded to his professors and left, making his way back to Gryffindor Tower.

The common room was full of students. Harry glanced around until he spotted Ginny and Neville then cut a path through the crowd towards them.

“Hi, Harry, where have you been?” Neville asked as he pressed a cold compress against a large lump on his forehead.

“Just down at the hospital wing,” Harry said.

“You weren’t hurt, were you?” Ginny asked.

“No, I just needed to talk to Dumbledore,” Harry said. “Where are Ron and Hermione?”

“Prefect meeting,” Neville said. “They just left. We’re all supposed to wait here until they get back.”

Harry went up to his dormitory and changed out of his Quidditch robes then returned to the common room where everyone was still milling about, speculating on who might have cast the Dark Mark. After half an hour Ron and Hermione returned along with the other prefects and told everyone as much as they knew.

They had met with the Head Boy and Girl, and McGonagall, who told them that the Ministry Aurors had arrived and were inspecting the Quidditch pitch. A wand had been found which proved to be the one that had been used to cast Morsmordre. But it wasn’t one of Ollivander’s and so far there was no evidence of whom it might belong to, much less who might have used it to send up the Dark Mark. All students were to stay in their houses until dinner at which point Dumbledore would give everyone further instructions.

“That’s it?” Lavender complained. “That’s all they told you?”

“They don’t know much at the moment,” Hermione said.

“And McGonagall was in a right state, let me tell you,” Ron said. “I’ve never seen her so angry. Believe me, it wasn’t the time to press her for answers.”

“But why are they keeping us confined to our dormitories?” Dean asked. “Do you think they’re expecting some sort of further attack?”

“So long as Dumbledore’s here, I’m not worried,” Harry said. “Voldemort would have to be suicidal to try to attack Hogwarts. Whoever sent up the Dark Mark was just trying to scare us and I refuse to be scared.”

A few heads nodded approvingly and everyone seemed to calm down. Fortunately, it wasn’t long until dinnertime, and the Gryffindors all trooped down to the Great Hall together. The atmosphere was subdued, though Malfoy and his cronies were looking insufferably smug. Harry glanced up at the head table and noted that McGonagall still looked angry, her mouth set in a thin, severe line.

Dumbledore, on the other hand, seemed to have already put the incident behind him. He looked as calm as if it had never happened. He leaned over and said something to McGonagall. She glared at him, but then she seemed to smile despite herself and relaxed visibly.

Harry looked up and down the table. The teachers all seemed more quiet than usual. Some looked worried, others grimly determined, still others a bit sad. Harry’s gaze reached Snape and he was startled to find the Potions Master watching him. Snape’s expression was unreadable and he alone besides Dumbledore showed no effect from the afternoon’s events. Of course, Snape was always reserved and introspective anyway. Harry held the man’s eyes for a moment then looked to Dumbledore who had risen to address the students as the Hall fell silent.

“Difficult times are upon us,” he said. “Those are the first words I spoke to you at the beginning of the year and they are still true. That was brought home to us dramatically this afternoon. But it is also still true that you are safer here at Hogwarts than anywhere else. This school will continue to stand as a bulwark against the darkness spreading throughout our world. I give you my word that I will not allow the cowards who cast the Dark Mark to terrorize this school. We will not live in fear. To do so is to hand victory to the enemy. I urge each of you to put fear aside and to live life with hope, for we cannot be defeated so long as hope is alive.

“In an equally urgent matter, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff will have a re-match which I have scheduled for the 19th of April. I wish both teams good luck and promise a much more mundane match than the aborted one today. Now, let us enjoy good company and good food.”

With that, the tables were suddenly laden with food. Dumbledore’s words had lifted everyone’s spirits and the atmosphere had improved considerably as the students tucked into the meal. They ate and chatted and when they were finished Harry and his classmates rose together to return to Gryffindor Tower. They had just stepped into the entrance hall when Malfoy and his gang confronted them.

“So, you get a rematch,” Malfoy drawled. “That’s good. I’d hate to miss seeing you lose to Hufflepuff.”

The other Slytherins snickered maliciously.

“That’s funny, Malfoy,” Ron said. “And here I thought you arranged for the Dark Mark just to keep us from winning.”

“It doesn’t take the Dark Mark for that,” Malfoy scoffed. “I’m taking bets on how badly Potter’ll choke at the next match.” Malfoy grinned contemptuously at Harry.

“As I recall, you weren’t so cocky when you lost to Ravenclaw a few weeks ago,” Ginny said.

“Yeah, and we’ll see who’s laughing when the Quidditch Cup is awarded this year,” Ron added heatedly.

“You did it,” Harry said quietly, staring unblinkingly at Malfoy. “You sent up the Dark Mark.”

Everyone turned to look at Harry in surprise and Malfoy’s smile faltered.

“What?” Malfoy asked, trying to sound casual.

“You cast Morsmordre.” Harry spoke with calm certainty as the other students exchanged nervous glances.

“You’re mental, Potter!” Malfoy said angrily.

The rest of the assembled students looked as though they might agree with Malfoy, but Harry was sure he saw fear in Malfoy’s eyes.

“I know you did it,” Harry said. “I can see – ”

“Potter!”

Harry turned to see Snape coming towards him. The man was furious and the other students all backed out of his way.

“Twenty points from Gryffindor and detention this instant!” Snape said. He grabbed Harry’s arm and dragged him towards the door leading to the dungeons.

Harry was furious, himself. “Professor, it’s true!” he said.

“Not another word, Potter or I’ll make it fifty points!”

Harry seethed silently as he was marched to Snape’s office. Snape threw open the door and shoved Harry into the room with so much force that Harry nearly fell. Snape entered the room and slammed the door behind him.

“Are you mad?” he shouted. “Have you no sense at all? What were you thinking accusing Malfoy like that?”

Harry stared at Snape, too shocked to answer. He’d had plenty of altercations with Malfoy over the years and he’d never seen Snape react like this. The only time he’d ever seen his professor this angry was when he’d spied into the man’s Pensieve.

“Honestly, Potter, it’s a wonder you’re still alive, as stupid as you are!” Snape continued ranting, his face pale with fury.

“It’s true!” Harry insisted, angered by Snape’s insult. “Malfoy cast the Dark Mark!”

“Don’t you think I know that?” the Potions Master snarled. He sighed at the confused expression on Harry’s face and ran a hand across his eyes in frustration.

“What were you going to tell him?” Snape asked contemptuously. “That you knew he did it because you can read his mind? Really, Potter, have you no discretion?”

Harry stared at Snape, aghast. It was true. He had read Malfoy’s mind. He had looked the Slytherin in the eyes and known he was the one. But it had been so natural, so automatic, that Harry hadn’t even been aware of what he was doing, and he realized now, with a chill, just how close he’d come to giving himself away.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Harry said. “I didn’t think.”

“You never think!” Snape snapped. “Tell me, Potter, you do know the Dark Lord has a keen interest in your activities, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you haven’t forgotten who Draco Malfoy’s father is, by any chance?”

“No, sir.”

“Then surely you’re not so dim that you don’t realize anything you say in front of that boy has the potential to find its way to the Dark Lord? Tell me you’re not that thick, Potter!”

“No, sir!”

“Then why do you let Malfoy provoke you?” Snape demanded.

Harry looked away. He had no answer. He had simply reacted to Malfoy without thinking.

“No idea at all?” Snape asked in his most sarcastic tone. “Do you ever consider the consequences of your actions?”

“Of course I do!” Harry responded, stung by Snape’s continued criticism.

“Really? Then tell me why you pulled that reckless stunt at the Quidditch match this afternoon. What were you thinking, flying at the crowds like that? Do you have any idea how many people could have been hurt or killed?”

“I was trying to prevent people from being hurt or killed,” Harry said angrily. “I’m not reckless! But I won’t stand by and do nothing when the situation is desperate.”

“Not even when your actions make matters worse?”

“No one died!”

“Yes, fortunately your skill on a broom far exceeds your ability to think ahead. But while no one died because of your poor judgment this time, that hasn’t always been the case, has it?”

Harry blanched. Snape had never before made any reference to the previous year’s battle at the Ministry of Magic, nor to Sirius’ death, but his meaning now was impossible to miss.

“Your friends may be willing to die for the honor of following you on every fool’s errand you dream up, but I for one would rather not,” Snape continued angrily. “You allow your emotions to rule you. You take wholly unnecessary risks. You act with no thought or care. If that’s your idea of considering the consequences of your actions then I promise you your late godfather won’t be the last person to die because of your mistakes!”

Harry felt a white-hot fury course through him. That Snape would dare to throw Sirius’s death in his face after the way Snape, himself, had treated Sirius was beyond belief.

“I’m sure you didn’t lose any sleep over Sirius’s death, did you?”

“Not a bit, no.”

“No, all you ever did was criticize him and make him feel useless. He never should have even been at the Ministry. He was trying to prove himself because of you!”

“Is that what you’ve been telling yourself all this time, that it was my fault?” Snape favored Harry with his most condescending sneer. “Do you honestly think anything could have kept Black from rushing to protect his beloved godson?”

“If you had done anything to help me –”

“I did everything to help you! Or has it somehow escaped your notice that you and your friends would have died if it weren’t for me? You blame me for not saving you from your own foolhardiness? Then tell me, Potter, why didn’t you come to me for help in the first place? Didn’t you know that I could discover the truth of the situation at once, or didn’t you think of that?

“Oh, but of course, you don’t trust me. You’d rather pursue your own ill-conceived scheme and try to get yourself and your classmates killed. Something you came very close to accomplishing, I might add. Well, tell me, Potter, why should anyone trust you?”

Harry couldn’t speak. He was too stunned even to be angry with Snape. The anguish in his heart drove out every other emotion. Snape was right; it had all been his fault. He had been a fool and had walked right into Voldemort’s trap. Would he recognize the next trap Voldemort set for him? How many more people were going to die trying to protect him and what was the point? Harry turned numbly towards the door.

“Potter, I have not dismissed you!” Snape said. Harry ignored him and reached for the door handle, but Snape caught Harry’s shoulder and spun him around.

“Let me go,” Harry whispered, not looking at his teacher.

“What’s the matter, Potter? Can’t our brave Gryffindor bear the truth? Well, it’s something you need to hear and that too few people will risk your tender feelings to tell you!”

“I ALREADY KNOW THE TRUTH!” Harry screamed. “I know it was my fault! I was stupid and I made a horrible mistake and I’ll never be able to make up for it, all right? I’m sorry I didn’t die, too! Maybe if you’re lucky, one of these days I will! I’m sure nothing would make you happier!”

Snape’s reflexes were lightning fast. Harry never even suspected the blow was coming and gasped more in surprise than pain as Snape slapped him.

“Don’t ever speak to me like that again.”

“Why not?” Harry demanded. “It’s the truth! You hate me!”

“What of it? Don’t you have enough friends and admirers?”

“I have enough enemies too!”

“I’m not your enemy! If I were, you’d be dead! But I refuse to coddle you. You continue to wallow in morbid memories and to agonize over your nightmares.”

“No I don’t!”

“Really? How much time have you spent brooding alone on the third floor?”

Harry’s eyes widened in surprise, but Snape didn’t pause.

“I roam the halls at night too, Potter, and it’s not just to keep recalcitrant Gryffindors in line. You, at least, are innocent of the atrocities you’ve witnessed.”

“It’s not my dreams,” Harry said.

“Then what is it?”

“I can’t do it!”

“Do what?”

“Kill him!”

Harry saw startled understanding in his professor’s eyes but it barely mattered. This was the fear that had been lurking in the back of Harry’s mind all these months, always there, but rarely glimpsed, and never spoken of. But since the attack on Gringotts, fear had become certainty. There was no point in pretending he didn’t know what lay before him. He couldn’t keep the hopelessness at bay any longer and now that he had begun, all of his darkest fears came tumbling out in helpless despair.

“I’m supposed to defeat him,” Harry said bitterly. “Even Dumbledore expects me to! And that stupid prophecy says I’m the only one who can do it. Only I can’t! There’s no way I can beat him in a fight! He’s too strong and every day he gets stronger. The only reason I’m still alive is because I’ve been lucky! Sooner or later my luck’s going to run out and he’s going to kill me. And that doesn’t even matter, but what happens then? Does he win? People are dying and it’s my responsibility to stop it! What happens when I fail?”

Harry finished speaking and his agonized words were followed by a crushing silence more painful than Snape’s grip on his shoulders. Harry was trembling with the effort to maintain any sort of composure. He knew it wouldn’t take Legilimency for Snape to read his desperate emotions, but Harry was past caring what the man might think or say. The pain in his chest was so acute he could hardly breathe.

Snape released his grip on Harry and stepped back.

“Sit down, Mr. Potter.”

Snape spoke in a measured tone that gave no hint of emotion, but Harry knew his teacher well enough to recognize the tension in his shoulders and the set of his jaw which betrayed intense feeling. Harry slumped into a chair and ran a hand across his eyes. He didn’t look at his teacher. He knew it had been a mistake to blurt out so much in front of the man, but he didn’t care and didn’t even try to steel himself for the verbal lashing he expected was coming.

“This is why I despise prophecies,” Snape said with vehemence. He began to pace the room as he continued speaking in barely contained anger. “They are vague, notoriously useless charades whose full meanings conveniently only become clear in hindsight.”

“You don’t believe in them?” Harry asked looking up in surprise.

“Oh, they’re true enough, I suppose,” Snape said derisively, pausing in his stride only long enough to shrug dismissively. “But for all the good they do in predicting actual events they might as well be pure fiction. I still can’t believe the headmaster burdened you with this.”

Harry instinctively jumped to Dumbledore’s defense. “He didn’t do it lightly. And I needed to know.”

“Then you also need to know how to interpret it!”

Snape stopped directly in front of Harry and fixed him with an intense and unusually earnest stare.

“Potter, the fate of the world does not rest solely upon your shoulders. Surely you’ve noticed all the people working tirelessly to oppose the Dark Lord. Do you think all those efforts are meaningless? They aren’t.”

Snape resumed his restless pacing.

“Yes, somehow your presence is essential to victory. How, I would not even venture to guess, but no one in his right mind would expect you to defeat the Dark Lord single handedly!”

Snape stopped and faced Harry once more.

“And you certainly aren’t responsible for the people who have died!” he said. “I’m sure I’ve mentioned this to you before, but clearly I didn’t impress it upon you forcefully enough!”

He bent forward, clutched the arms of Harry’s chair and fixed the young man with a fierce stare. Harry flinched at Snape’s sudden closeness but managed not to shrink back in his seat.

“You do not bear the slightest blame or responsibility for any of the Dark Lord’s actions,” Snape said in tight, clipped tones. “Do you understand that, Potter?” Snape’s voice rose in frustration. “Can you manage to get that truth through your thick skull?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said, not quite sure why Snape was so angry with him. Why does he always have to wind up shouting at me? he thought miserably.

Snape seemed to realize he was yelling at the same moment. He stepped back and regarded Harry more calmly.

“Potter, you do no one any favors by allowing yourself to sink into despair.”

“No, sir.”

“It impairs your judgment which has never been all that keen to begin with.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And brooding does no good whatsoever!”

“No, sir. Thank you for pointing that out. I’ll cheer up straight away.”

Snape sighed and when he spoke again it was with forced calm.

“I only meant that you mustn’t allow worry to consume you. The burden you bear is heavy enough without you assuming sole responsibility for the fate of the entire wizarding world.”

Harry nodded, unconvinced and looked away. Snape regarded the miserable youth and shook his head in exasperation.

“Have you discussed this with anyone? Your friends, perhaps?”

“No. I can’t tell my friends,” Harry said. “They’d be horrified and they worry about me enough already. Besides, it doesn’t exactly slip easily into conversations about Quidditch or homework. Dumbledore’s too busy and there isn’t really anyone else here at school I can talk to.”

“No, I suppose not,” Snape said quietly.

They were both silent for a moment then Harry spoke softly.

“Professor, do you really think we can win?” Harry searched Snape’s eyes for the truth. There was no hesitation.

“Of course I do.” It was a simple statement made with quiet conviction, but it filled Harry with relief and a hope he hadn’t realized he’d lost.

“Potter,” Snape continued. “I am no seer, but there is one thing I do know for certain. If your death were a foregone conclusion, the prophecy would not have pointed to you as the one who could defeat the Dark Lord. There is hope, and the only thing you must do is not give up.”

Harry nodded. More than anything he wanted to believe his professor, to believe that somehow there was hope. But he knew there was something else he needed to do as well.

“Professor, I need to resume my lessons with you. You’re right - I can’t keep reading people’s thoughts without realizing it. It’s too dangerous. And my visions, I think they’re getting worse.”

Snape didn’t seem surprised by Harry’s request.

“Legilimency is not like most other forms of magic. A person may be a barely adequate potions maker and there are no consequences to the gaps in his knowledge beyond a few ruined potions. The same is true for most other disciplines. Even Occlumency does not need to be mastered. Rudimentary skills are helpful.

“But as you’ve now discovered, Legilimency is not something you can learn halfway. Once your mind has awoken to its ability to reach out to others, it must be disciplined or it runs wild.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that before?”

“Would it have made any difference if I had?” Snape asked.

“No, sir, probably not,” Harry conceded.

“We can discuss this Monday evening at your usual time,” Snape said. “For now, I think you need to go back to your dormitory and find something to take your mind off all of this for a while.”

Harry hardly thought that possible, but he nodded noncommittally, stood up and turned to go.

“Mr. Potter,” Snape stopped Harry. “If you need…” Snape paused then started over. “Don’t ever hesitate to come to me at any time if you require my assistance.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said in surprise. “Thank you, sir. I’ll remember that.”

***

The corridors were deserted as Harry made his way slowly back to Gryffindor Tower. After venting his fears to Snape, Harry was surprised to discover that he actually felt better than he had in a long time. Talking about his worries seemed to have diminished them. It was true, he wasn’t alone. He had Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix on his side, plus his friends. And he was letting all of them down by allowing his emotions to get the better of him. No more, Harry promised himself. They were in a war and he needed to start fighting it.

“Harry, you’re back,” Ginny said in greeting as Harry climbed through the portrait hole. “Are you all right?”

“We thought Snape was going to kill you,” Ron added.

“No,” Harry said reasonably, “he just yelled at me a lot.”

Ron snorted in disgust. “Snape’s a complete git! He’d stick up for Malfoy, no matter what.”

“He wasn’t being a git,” Harry said. “He was right. What I did was stupid.”

“But you were right, Harry!” Ron protested. “After Snape dragged you off, Hermione and I went to have a look at that potion Malfoy’s been brewing. It was gone. He must have used it to somehow help cast the Dark Mark. He has to have been involved.”

“He was,” Harry said. “I saw it in his mind.”

There was a moment’s startled silence then Ginny spoke up.

“You read Malfoy’s mind?”

“Yeah, though I didn’t realize I was doing it at the time. Fortunately Snape did.”

“Why fortunately?” Ron asked.

“Because if Harry had let on that he could read Malfoy’s thoughts that could have made things very awkward for both Harry and Professor Snape,” Hermione answered. “No wonder Snape was so angry.”

Ron was looking very uncomfortable.

“Harry, I hate to say this. But don’t you think this is getting a bit out of hand? I mean dreaming about Voldemort is one thing. Reading people’s minds without even knowing it is something else. Aren’t your lessons with Snape supposed to stop that sort of thing?”

Harry hesitated then decided if his friendships meant anything at all he needed to start being honest.

“I quit my lessons with Snape three weeks ago.”

“What?” Hermione asked. “Harry, why?”

“Because I just couldn’t deal with Snape running around in my mind all the time,” Harry said.

“Then where have you been going all these evenings?” Ginny asked.

“For walks around the castle,” Harry said, not quite ready to reveal his private hideaway. “I needed time alone. I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have lied to you.”

“But why didn’t you tell us?” Hermione asked, clearly bewildered.

“I just wasn’t ready to talk about it. I felt guilty and I knew you’d all be disappointed with me.”

“Oh Harry!” Hermione said throwing her arms around Harry and giving him a hug. “We could never be disappointed with you. We just worry about you, that’s all.”

“I know and I didn’t want you to worry any more,” Harry said, blushing slightly as Hermione released him. “Anyway, it’s all right. I told Snape I want to start my lessons again.”

“And he agreed?” Ginny asked.

Harry nodded. “After what happened with Malfoy, I don’t think either of us has much choice. Ron’s right. I have to learn to control this.”

“Well good,” Hermione said. “At least that’s sorted.”

“Just remember that we’re here no matter what happens,” Ginny said.

The others all nodded and Harry was grateful once more for having such good friends.

***

The next morning the Gryffindors went down to breakfast only to find a crowd of students gathered in the entrance hall.

“What’s going on?” Ron asked a group of Hufflepuffs.

“Reporters,” someone told him.

Harry pushed his way through the crowd to the front door and craned his neck to see outside. Ron, Hermione and Ginny were close behind him. There were indeed half a dozen strangers outside, along with a man Harry recognized. Averill Pembroke stood towards the back of the group of reporters and the sight of him sent a chill down Harry’s spine. In front of the reporters stood an incensed and imposing Professor McGonagall.

“This is a school,” she was saying. “You have no business here.”

“We’re here to report on the Dark Mark,” a tall, lanky wizard said.

“Then report on it,” McGonagall snapped. “You don’t need free run of the school for that.”

“We need eye-witness accounts of what happened.”

“I was an eye-witness. I can tell you what happened.”

“We’d like to talk to the Quidditch players to find out what they saw from their vantage point,” a plump witch said, smiling sweetly.

“You aren’t talking to any of the students and in any case they saw nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Have you any idea who cast the Dark Mark?” a mousy wizard asked.

“No.”

“How many of the students have left Hogwarts since yesterday?” Lanky asked.

“None.”

“Are you considering closing the school?” the plump witch asked, no longer smiling.

“Are you mad? Of course not!”

“When do you expect the Aurors to complete their investigation?” Mousy piped up.

“I’ve no idea. Ask them”

“Where’s Dumbledore? Why can’t we talk to him and what is he doing to get to the bottom of this?”

“The headmaster is devoting all of his effort to getting to the bottom of this which is why he has no time to waste talking to you.”

The students had spilled out onto the front steps to watch this verbal jousting. Harry was quite proud of his Head of House. If these reporters thought they were going to fluster McGonagall they were going to be very disappointed.

With the confrontation taking place on the driveway, no one noticed a lone figure approaching the castle until he was nearly upon them.

“Dad?” Ginny murmured.

Harry, Ron and Hermione all glanced the way she was looking and caught sight of Arthur Weasley who appeared rather befuddled by the scene he’d come upon. He glanced their way as though hoping to make a dash for the door, but just then the reporters noticed him. As one, they all turned on him like a pack of wolves scenting fresh meat.

“Mr. Weasley, are you here on behalf of the Ministry?” the plump witch asked.

“Er, no,” Mr. Weasley answered.

“You’re not here to investigate the Dark Mark?” Lanky asked.

“Not unless you think it had something to do with the misuse of Muggle artifacts?” Mr. Weasley replied. “I’m simply here to see my children.”

“Then you believe Dumbledore doesn’t have the situation in hand?” Averill Pembroke asked, speaking for the first time.

“I’m certain Professor Dumbledore has the situation well in hand,” Mr. Weasley answered.

“But you are concerned enough about your children’s safety to come and have a look for yourself,” Pembroke pressed.

“My reason for being here is none of your business,” Mr. Weasley insisted, but Pembroke had found his quarry and refused to give up the pursuit.

“But you must admit, as a parent, that the safety of Hogwarts has been called into question. If Death Eaters could gain access to the school grounds to cast Morsmordre, who knows what else they might do.”

“I repeat that I have every confidence in the headmaster.”

“Then let me ask you this,” Pembroke said, nimbly changing tactics. “Don’t you think it’s strange that no representative of the Ministry has come to Hogwarts to investigate this incident?”

“There are a dozen Aurors on site investigating this incident, Mr. Pembroke,” McGonagall answered, trying to force her way between Mr. Weasley and the reporters.

“But no one from the Minister’s office.”

“I work at the Ministry, Pembroke and I assure you the Minister is taking this event very seriously!”

“So then you are here as a Ministry representative?”

“No,” Mr. Weasley said through clenched teeth. “I’m merely telling you what I know. The Minister is doing everything possible to fight the threat from these Death Eaters and to protect us all.”

“You know that from your work in the Department for the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts?”

“I know that because all of us at the Ministry have only one goal at the moment which is to defeat You-Know-Who and no one is working harder than the Minister!”

“You have confidence in the Minister?” Lanky asked, interrupting Pembroke’s interrogation and earning a glare from the man.

“Yes, I do,” Mr. Weasley answered.

“That’s your professional or personal opinion?” the plump witch asked.

“Er, both.”

“Mr. Weasley, isn’t it true that you, yourself, were investigated for the misuse of Muggle artifacts four years ago?” Pembroke interjected, smoothly regaining control of the questioning once more. There was a moment’s silence as everyone waited to hear Mr. Weasley’s response.

“That was an unfortunate accident,” Mr. Weasley said, trying to pick his words carefully. “And it points out the need for a greater understanding of Muggles and their society.”

“I’d say it points out how inherently dangerous any dealings with Muggles can be,” Pembroke said.

“That’s not true!” Mr. Weasley said, clearly exasperated now. “That’s the same superstitious fear that has allowed You-Know-Who to return to power. We can’t continue to hide from what we don’t understand. I’ve met Muggles and let me tell you I like some of them better than I like some of the wizards I know! We can’t pretend that the Muggle world doesn’t exist. My children go to school with children from Muggle families. Some of my children may marry Muggles or Muggle-borns. There is no shame in it and I say that as a pure blood wizard from one of the oldest families! Until we rid ourselves of this fear and prejudice we will never be free of the evil that You-Know-Who embodies.”

Pembroke’s eyes narrowed, but the other reporters were all scribbling furiously with their quills.

“Is there something I can help you with?”

Everyone turned.

Dumbledore now stood in the doorway, exuding quiet authority. The students stood aside to let him pass as he descended the stairs and approached the reporters, none of whom seemed to want to be the first to address the headmaster.

Dumbledore waited patiently and at last the plump witch cleared her throat and spoke.

“Headmaster, we’re here to investigate the Dark Mark.”

“Ah, then you are in the wrong place, I’m afraid,” Dumbledore said. “The Dark Mark appeared over the Quidditch pitch. You are more than welcome to investigate there, so long as the Ministry Aurors have no objection.”

“We were hoping to speak to some witnesses,” Lanky said.

“The staff have already given their statements to the Aurors who can provide you with any information you need.”

“What about the students?” Pembroke asked.

“They have already been traumatized enough by yesterday’s events. I will not allow them to be disturbed further. In any case, they saw nothing beyond what has already been reported.”

The reporters exchanged nervous glances and squirmed. Apparently, no one wanted to argue with Dumbledore.

“The Quidditch pitch is that way,” Dumbledore said amiably, pointing in the appropriate direction.

The reporters took one last hungry look at the students gawking from the stairs then turned and headed off the way Dumbledore had indicated.

Mr. Weasley and Professor McGonagall followed Dumbledore back up the steps to the entrance hall, herding the students before them.

“Insufferable people!” McGonagall said once they were inside. “They have no respect for anyone’s privacy at all. Really, Headmaster! You were much too polite.”

Dumbledore smiled indulgently.

“They are merely doing their jobs,” he said.

McGonagall snorted indignantly then turned to the crowd of students.

“Everyone to breakfast!” McGonagall said briskly. “There’s nothing else to see here.”

The students immediately began to disperse to the Great Hall, except for Ron, Ginny, Harry and Hermione who approached Mr. Weasley.

“Dad, what are you doing here?” Ginny asked, hugging her father.

“Just came to see Dumbledore,” Mr. Weasley replied. “You’re all right aren’t you?” he asked, clearly referring to Harry and Hermione as well as his own children.

Four heads nodded.

“Good. You’re safer here than anywhere. Just keep your eyes open.” He gave them a reassuring smile, then turned and accompanied Dumbledore upstairs.