lomonaaeren

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Chapter Twenty-Three—Insanity

Harry stares at the headline in the Prophet and feels as though someone has smashed a Bludger into his chest.

HARRY POTTER: LIAR OR DELUSIONAL?

Heart pounding, Harry quickly skims the article, hearing Daphne swear under her breath next to him. It’s the first time something this damning has appeared in the paper; Madam Macmillan has mostly done a good job of managing his publicity for him. But Harry supposes that even she had to fail sooner or later.

It turns out that the Prophet got hold of or got told about the owl he sent to the Ministry, and went to Privet Drive, and found no evidence of a Death Eater attack whatsoever. There’s an interview with a Mrs. Howling—after a moment of racking his brain, Harry remembers that she lived on Magnolia Crescent—and she sounds indignant at the idea that there would be any “freaks” around.

“Haven’t seen a freak around here since that Potter boy disappeared, have we?” the Muggle woman says with a sniff and a shake of her head. She turns her back on your faithful reporter and walks into her decidedly unburned home.

Now, dear readers, while it should be understood that “freaks” is a word that seems to be native to Muggles in this part of Surrey for “wizards and witches,” perhaps we must also consider why a Muggle who lived as neighbor to the Boy-Who-Lived for so long is using it about him. What does she know that none of us might? Did she see him grow up? Did she hear other lies he told?

For more on the Boy-Who-Lived’s lies and paranoia, see page 7.

For a Mind-Healer’s analysis of these lies as Harry Potter’s pleas for attention and the narcissistic tendencies this implies, see page 12.

Harry lays down the paper in the middle of a tremendous silence. He can see that people at other tables are peering at him to see what happens, to see if he’ll break. Even Ron and Hermione are staring at him like that, although in concern rather than fear.

Harry sighs, shakes his head at the paper in disappointment, and goes right back to eating his breakfast.

He ignores the murmurs that break out around him, more concerned with what it means that Voldemort can feed him false visions. Does that mean that Harry has no hope of learning Occlumency to keep him out? No hope of telling what’s a dream and what’s real? Will he have to send owls to the Ministry all the time just in case this vision is the one that isn’t false, and innocent Muggles or Muggleborns are being attacked somewhere?”

No, the situation isn’t that dire, Harry reminds himself. Half these people don’t believe Voldemort is back anyway, so sending owls to the Ministry is out as an option. He’ll inform Severus, the way he did last night, and that ought to be enough.

He glances up and sees Severus watching him from the table, not even bothering to disguise his concern. (Well, not from people who know him well, anyway). Harry inclines his head slightly, and hopes that’s enough as he finishes his breakfast and goes to the first class of the day.

He is not going to break.

*

“Well, when you think about it, Skeeter’s right that he’s mad. Wasn’t that what she was saying last year, when Potter put his name in the Goblet so that he could enter? And when he adopted a dragon from an egg? A Hungarian Horntail? He’s desperate for attention, which is pretty pathetic, when you think about it, he already has all that fame—”

Hermione doesn’t think about it before she does it. She just swings around and hexes Michael Corner.

Corner shrieks and cowers. His arms are covered with blisters which are rapidly growing into red-sheathed pimples, and squirming towards explosion. It’s a hex that Harry found and taught them in their study group, and this is the first time that Hermione has ever got it right.

It seems that what she needs is to be really angry.

“Miss Granger!”

Professor Sprout is coming out of the greenhouse, horrified, and staring between Hermione and Corner as though she expects the boils to either disappear or Corner to turn into someone worth a hexing. Hermione lifts her head. If the professors won’t stop this kind of thing being spread around about Harry—well, Professor Snape does, but that’s because no one dares say it near Professor Snape—then she’ll have to take matters into her own hands.

Hermione adopts her calmest expression. “He was calling my friend mad and pathetic, Professor.”

“That is no reason to hex him, Miss Granger!”

Hermione looks Professor Sprout straight in the eye. She’s never had a problem with the woman, who’s fair enough that she even gives more points to Neville than her own House for his performance to Herbology, but she’s not going to back down. “Then it’s all right to call another student mad and pathetic?” she asks, and nods. “All right, professor. I just wanted to know so that I can try that next time.”

“Miss Granger!” Professor Sprout straightens up. “It is not.”

“Then you would have disciplined Corner if I told you what he was saying?”

Hermione is watching closely, so she sees it. Professor Sprout hesitates for the tiniest instant.

Then she straightens her hat and huffs, “Of course you should have come and got me, Miss Granger. That’s what you should always do if you overhear another student saying disgusting things. But hexing is right out. Fifteen points from Gryffindor and detention with me tomorrow at eight-o’clock.”

There’s a collective intake of breath. Hermione Granger has never received detention. Hermione can feel Ron growling his way towards an explosion at her shoulder.

But Hermione just raises her chin, because she has what she needs to know. “Yes, Professor.”

The professors won’t protect Harry. That means Hermione will have to make sure that Corner, and the others, are frightened enough of her that they won’t even think of hurting her friend.

Hermione turns and gives Corner a measured look as she walks away. Professor Sprout is moving in to heal the boils, but Corner is looking at Hermione. He turns pale abruptly.

Message received, Hermione thinks in satisfaction, and keeps walking.

*

“Hermione, I’m going to ask you not to do that.”

“Why not?”

Harry rubs his forehead, then stops when he sees the intent way everyone is watching him. An innocent gesture like touching his forehead isn’t so innocent right now, he thinks, controlling his frustration as best he can. “Because it makes me look weak. And it’ll convince some people that the rumors are true, if we respond with violence instead of ignore them.”

“We have to respond somehow.”

Harry turns towards Daphne. They’re in the same classroom where the study group usually meets, but they’re smaller than usual right now. Harry tries not to consider the few people, like Cho, who have stopped coming. They’ll make their own choices. “Why do we have to, Daphne? Why will it make us look confident instead of insecure if we do?”

“Because not responding means that other people are free to continue attacking you,” Daphne says, and her eyebrows creep up a little. “A few weeks ago, Harry, you were telling the Minister what to do, enough to make him back down over Umbridge. Now the Prophet is spreading this libel, and the Minister hasn’t uttered a word to stop them. You’ll lose any position of power you’ve gained if you back off now.”

Harry bites his lips so that his jaw doesn’t spasm with irritation. But he trusts Daphne; she’s frequently the one who can read people outside their group the best. Hermione isn’t that good with it, Ron is better with pawns than people, Theo is…Theo, and Blaise’s skill is all focused on reading his mother. “All right. But what response will be best?”

“I think I can answer that.”

Harry glances over his shoulder, hoping that his relief doesn’t show on his face as Zach saunters into the room. He was worried that the article made Zach abandon him, too, when he didn’t show up at the study group right away. “All right. Which one?”

“You respond by attacking Skeeter.” Zach smiles at him, and Harry finds himself simultaneously worried and comforted by the sharp edge to the smile. “Attack her credibility, make her defend herself. It’ll decrease the amount of people who believe her and it’ll make sure that she’s too busy to write more articles.”

“How do we attack Skeeter?” Daphne asks. “Even my parents haven’t been able to dig up much on her. The worst thing was that she had a second cousin who went to Azkaban after the war.”

Harry carefully ignores the ripple that travels around the room. Lots of people here too have relatives in Azkaban, or ones who belong there.

“You find someone’s weaknesses by figuring out their strengths.” Zach slams his hand into his palm so suddenly that Harry has to fight not to jump. “Or at least that’s what my grandfather says. What’s Skeeter’s greatest strength?”

“Her quill?” Ron asks.

“Yes, but beyond that. Why does she write articles that everyone believes? Where does she get the evidence?”

Harry is glad that he’s not the only one trying to exchange a baffled glance with someone else. “She goes out and asks people?” he says. “Like she talked to the people on Privet Drive and Magnolia Crescent.”

Zach snorts. “And you think that everyone she quotes is willing to talk to her that way? A Muggle who doesn’t know any better might, but all the people she’s reported on? The Mind-Healer she quoted?”

“I thought the Mind-Healer probably talked to her willingly,” Harry says bitterly. He’s used to people talking shit about him by now.

Zach shakes his head. “Not according to my grandfather. He says Healer Illius contacted him privately and complained that he’d never said that about you. He said about it someone else, though, and in an entirely private setting where he knows for a fact that Skeeter wasn’t around.”

“Who did he tell it to?” Theo’s eyes are alight. “That person could have betrayed him.”

“Mind-Healers are subject to some of the strictest oaths outside the Wizengamot. I doubt it.”

“So you don’t know who he talked to?”

Harry steps between Theo and Zach, who are glaring at each other. “This is still a good start on the information we need,” he says. “Thank you, Zach. All right. So Skeeter has some means of sneaking into private settings. An Invisibility Cloak?”

“Could be.” Blaise looks a little doubtful. “It’s possible that St. Mungo’s has wards up to keep those out, but I suppose we don’t know for sure.”

“Then we need to find out.” Harry looks around the group. “Does anyone know the best way to find out information on the St. Mungo’s wards? Or a way to contact them and ask for the information that won’t make them think that we’re criminals in training?”

“The nargles could help.”

Harry turns to look at Luna. He doesn’t want to discount her help out of hand, but he isn’t sure what she means, either. “Are you sure, Luna?”

“Yes.” Luna gives him a smile so dreamy and gentle that it calms some of Harry’s lingering bitterness over Skeeter’s article. “Let me talk to them.”

“In the meantime,” Hermione says loudly, “I’m going to research spells that would keep someone under an Invisibility Cloak out.” She marches out the door in what Harry is sure is the direction of the library. Daphne hesitates, then follows her.

“We have to think of other possibilities, too,” Zach says quietly. “She might be a skilled user of the Disillusionment Charm. Or glamour charms that let her imitate someone else. Or maybe she has Polyjuice Potion.”

Harry grimaces. “I hate being paranoid, but…”

“Yes.” Zach nods. “It would be best if we do our research quietly and don’t talk about it much until we think we’ve eliminated some of the possibilities.”

“Or,” says Blaise, with a drawling emphasis that makes Harry turn to him, “we can try to find a place secure enough that it doesn’t matter what Skeeter is using to spy on people, and use that to keep our plans secret.”

“I don’t know any place with wards strong enough to single out someone who’s taken Polyjuice,” Theo says, watching Blaise like he wants to drag his secrets out of his mind.

“I don’t know that any exist,” Harry admits. He’s been doing as much research as he can on the subject of Defense, especially since Umbridge was teaching at the start of the year, and he hasn’t found anything that would keep out people under the influence of the Imperius Curse or the Polyjuice Potion. It’s one reason the ingredients for Polyjuice are restricted, from what he remembers.

Blaise stretches slowly, obviously luxuriating in being the center of attention. “I might know a place.”

*

“Mr. Potter, if I might have a word with you?”

Harry tries hard to control his expression as he turns around. He doesn’t want to make Shacklebolt suspect him of anything, but he was on his way to meet Blaise and the rest to investigate Blaise’s “hidden place,” whatever it is, and he doesn’t want to be late. “Yes, sir?”

Shacklebolt smiles at him in a way that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Do you have the time to step into my office for a moment?”

“The time, maybe,” Harry says, although that isn’t true, especially when Theo at least will probably come looking for Harry if he doesn’t keep their rendezvous. “Not the trust.”

Shacklebolt actually looks startled. Harry keeps one eye on him and one hand on Lion, who has started hissing any time he sees Shacklebolt. Harry thinks that’s mostly leftover distaste for the former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, combined with Harry’s reactions to the man.

“You—this could be important for your future.” Shacklebolt clears his throat. “To help you defeat Voldemort.”

It impresses Harry that he says the name without flinching, but not enough to follow him. “My guardians are training me, and so are other people, sir. Thanks all the same, but no.” He turns around to go up the stairs.

“Mr. Potter, I have a message to pass on to you from Albus Dumbledore.”

Lion hisses louder than ever at the sound of the name. Harry raises a shield around himself without bothering to be subtle about it, and glances over his shoulder. Shacklebolt moves back a little at the sight of his eyes.

“Then I definitely don’t trust you,” Harry says sweetly, “and you should be aware that I’ll be telling this to my guardian here at school, Severus Snape, as soon as possible.” He turns away and keeps walking up the stairs, alert, but Lion is watching behind him. He’ll warn Harry with a hiss in an instant if Shacklebolt tries anything.

Shacklebolt doesn’t.

Harry realizes when he gets to the top of the stairs that his hands are shaking. He closes them into fists and stands still for a long moment until he’s sure that they won’t reveal anything to anybody, then goes on his way.

*

“So why were you late?”

Harry ignores Theo’s question, and leans against the wall beside the tapestry of dancing trolls, or rather of trolls who refuse to dance, raising one skeptical eyebrow at Blaise. Blaise told them where to meet, but he hasn’t done anything but stand there and grin like an idiot for the last ten minutes, so Theo feels justified in ignoring him and focusing on Harry.

“I think that everyone’s here who’s going to come,” Hermione says, bouncing a little in place. Theo is grateful she’s there. She can get away with asking questions that would make Theo look weak.

“You’re probably right,” Blaise says, shaking his head and sighing as though sad that others are giving up a chance to see his marvelous secret, despite the fact that everyone he invited is here. “All right. Watch closely. This is complicated.” He moves towards the tapestry.

Theo and Harry step out of the way. Harry is watching Blaise with a curious expression. Theo relaxes a little. At least, if Harry got in trouble, it’s not the kind that leaves lasting marks, magical or mental.

“I’m thinking of a place where no one can enter who’s under the influence of Polyjuice or the Imperius Curse, or under an Invisibility Cloak,” Blaise announces, and starts pacing back and forth in front of the tapestry.

Theo watches him, and only glances over his shoulder when Hermione gasps. He stares himself, loath though he is to give Blaise the satisfaction.

A wooden door is forming in the wall.

It looks to be made of sturdy oak planks, with the iron heads of nails poking out of it, identical to a thousand other doors in the castle. Theo grips his wand and glances back and forth between it and Blaise, wondering if there’s anything else that he’s added into the surprise. If he can make doors materialize out of the walls, it doesn’t mean that they just lead to the place he claimed to be thinking of.

Blaise rolls his eyes at Theo as he sweeps past and opens the door. Beyond, Theo can make out a room that lights up with a dozen torches. It looks easily as big as the Slytherin common room, if not more.

Harry steps forwards, a bright smile on his lips. Lion is raising his neck so he can see over Harry’s head. “Blaise, what is this?”

“A room a little elf told me about.” Blaise makes a show of rotating his arm around. “Welcome to the Room of Requirement.”