Chapter Twenty-Five of 'Leopard's Choice'- Racing the Darkness

[lomonaaeren]

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Chapter Twenty-Five—Racing the Darkness

“I don’t understand why you’re so upset about this thing.”

Blaise speaks in as neutral a tone as he can, eyes on the Slytherin common room that stretches away beyond their little circle of chairs. Harry is pacing back and forth behind privacy charms, but honestly, that doesn’t matter, not when so many other people in the House are present and staring at them. They don’t have to hear what Harry’s talking about to see him as obsessive and paranoid.

Harry stops and stares at Blaise. Blaise wonders if he’s even aware of the jagged strikes of magic that escape his body now and then and etch twisted silver shapes on the air. “What are you talking about, Blaise? It might give me the power to win the war! Defeat Voldemort!”

Blaise takes a deep breath. “Sure, it might give you that power,” he says, as calmly as he can. “There’s no guarantee it will. And you sound as though you think Professor Snape made the wrong decision by keeping it from you.”

“No shit.”

Blaise winces, more because of the reactions he’s imagining from Snape and the other Slytherins than because of what Harry’s said. “Harry, you sound…obsessed with this thing.”

“Why shouldn’t I be?”

“Because you don’t know what it actually does,” Daphne snaps from where she’s sitting on the couch next to the fire. She lays down her homework, which Blaise is pretty sure she wasn’t doing anyway, and glares at Harry. “You don’t know if it’s a trap, but Professor Snape thinks it is, and so does Black. That’s a pretty good reason to agree with them, isn’t it? I remember you saying once that they rarely agree on anything.”

“Yes, but they have a bias they won’t acknowledge!”

“Against Dumbledore? A sensible one.” Daphne folds her arms.

“A bias in favor of keeping me safe!”

Daphne opens her mouth, then closes it again. She shoots Blaise a glance that obviously invites him to take this one.

Blaise sighs. “Harry. You sound insane.”

It’s a calculated gamble, but Blaise congratulates himself when Harry spins around and glares. “I am not mad the way the Prophet keeps saying!” There was another article about it at breakfast yesterday that Blaise is kind of surprised Harry didn’t light on fire with the force of his scowl.

“I know, but I’m saying what you sound like,” Blaise says. “Your life is more important to your guardians than winning the war, and your guardians include your godfather who didn’t get to raise you because he was wrongfully imprisoned and your Head of House. I am shocked, shocked, that they place your safety ahead of winning the war.”

Harry glares at him again and drops down on the couch next to Daphne. “But it’s my life against the lives of thousands of people! How can they choose mine?”

Blaise stares at him cross-eyed. Harry looks back. Blaise stares some more, but Harry doesn’t seem to be getting it, so he explains as gently as he can, “Harry, you sound as if you’re about to start talking about the same greater good bollocks that Dumbledore always spouted.”

Harry takes a deep breath and blinks, hard. Then he shakes his head. “I don’t want to do that, but I have to—I have to make them realize that they can’t keep me safe at the expense of everybody else.”

“And what happens to me and Astoria if you die?” Daphne demands suddenly. “To Theo? To Blaise? Professor Snape might try to keep us safe, but I don’t know if he would succeed. And Black would have no claim to us. Does our safety not matter, not next to the safety of those faceless masses?”

Harry clenches his hand, although it’s down to his side and Blaise isn’t sure Daphne can see it. “I have to do something!”

“Tell me why,” Blaise snaps. “Why it has to be you.”

“Because I’m the one Voldemort’s trying to kill!”

“Voldemort’s trying to kill Professor Snape, too, and Muggles, and probably every Muggleborn in Britain,” Blaise says, and deliberately rolls his eyes at Harry. “Do they all have the responsibility to get rid of him?”

“No. You know why it has to be me.”

“And we know why your guardians are willing to help you with that instead of tossing you into the battle to face it on your own. Merlin, Harry, we’re trying to do the same bloody thing.” Blaise feels tired so suddenly, it’s as if someone dumped the Draught of Living Death over his head. “Just think about it for a moment.”

Harry closes his eyes and sits there with his head bowed, his breath coming so hoarse and fast that Blaise frowns at Daphne. Daphne just shakes her head a little. Harry isn’t under the influence of any potion or spell she knows about, then.

Harry finally looks up and whispers, “Fine. But you can understand why I want that stone?”

“Of course I can. Think of the power. And no, I’m not going to help you steal it.”

Harry scowls at him, snaps his mouth shut, and stands up to stride towards their bedroom. Blaise shakes his head as he watches him go. But when he sneaks a glance around the common room, at least people have gone back to their homework and their own conversations. They aren’t acting like Harry’s insane anymore.

“Do you think the stone could be having some influence on him even outside the wards Professor Snape has to have on it?”

It’s something that Blaise hasn’t wanted to think about. He sighs and slumps back in his chair. “I think—maybe? It’s certainly not like Harry to become this obsessed just because he knows something exists. He practiced wandless magic for a long time before trying the harder spells with it.”

“Have you read about intent stones?”

“Of course not.”

Daphne snaps her mouth shut and grimaces at him. Blaise laughs a little. “Honestly, you walked into that one face-first.”

Daphne sighs and leans back in her chair. “Try to be less of a prick for once in your life, Blaise. Just try.”

Blaise closes his eyes and massages his forehead for a second. “I’ve read about intent stones, yes. About how they can sense the intention of someone to wield them and reach out to that person’s mind, planting the obsession to do it.” They’re usually the kind of thing that wizards and witches put in the hilts of weapons that they want people to wield, sometimes on wands they want to pass on after their deaths, and sometimes in tombs as part of a curse to open the tomb and ransack it, thus activating other traps.

Daphne nods. “I have no idea if the thing that Dumbledore sent Harry qualifies as one, because I’ve never actually heard of sending your magic to someone before. But I’m afraid it might.”

Blaise grimaces. “I’ll bring up the possibility to Professor Snape.”

“Thank you. I’ll take over Harry-wrangling duty tomorrow, and inform him if he sounds like he’s going on about the greater good again.” Daphne rolls her eyes delicately and rises to her feet, heading for the staircase to the girls’ bedroom.

Blaise remains where he is, staring at the fire. He wonders if it’s really an intent stone getting to Harry, or just the stress of the situation. Umbridge might be gone, but the new professor, Shacklebolt, could be a Dumbledore minion, and the stone could be reaching out to Harry, and people could start to be cautious around Harry because of the articles the Prophet is publishing, and if he keeps acting the way he has…

With a disgusted noise, Blaise stands and heads to bed. These things will wait for the morning, when Blaise can speak with other people about them.

*

“Enter.”

Severus already knows who’s standing outside his door, and a good approximation of what he will say, but he manages to smile a little anyway as Harry steps inside the office. Harry pauses, and then seems to remember he’s supposed to be feigning good cheer. He takes a deep breath and lets a smile spread across his face.

“Good morning, Severus.”

“Good morning, Harry. Did you have something to ask me?” Severus knows he does, but they must still play out the steps of this dance, given that Harry seems to think he’s come up with some way to obtain the stone.

Harry takes another deep breath and stands in front of Severus’s desk with his hands folded behind his back. “What if I allowed you to supervise me every time I interact with Dumbledore’s stone?”

“That is certainly something I would require if I let you have it.”

“So you will let me have it?”

Severus shakes his head.

Harry squeezes his eyes shut instead of exploding the way Severus thought he would. Well, this is intriguing. Severus waits—he thinks he can hear Harry counting under his breath—until he opens his eyes and asks in a tense voice, “What do you think will happen with the war if I don’t have that stone?”

“You will remain yourself, without whatever magical or mental influence Dumbledore placed in it.”

“Do you think I’ll win?”

“I am not certain.” Severus speaks only the truth. Harry is more determined and stronger than he would ever have guessed before Harry was Sorted into Slytherin, and Voldemort’s actions confuse him. He is striking openly at some villages, but at long intervals, and the game he is playing with Harry’s dreams seem more directed towards discrediting Harry himself than the attacks he used in the last war. He is, perhaps, husbanding his strength, or waiting for more followers, or seeking something, but Severus does not know what.

At the same time, Voldemort is older and stronger than Harry. It is not a contest that Severus would want to hazard a guess on.

But Severus knows he will stand behind Harry no matter what comes, and do his best to help and protect him.

Harry shoots him a startled glance, and some of the intense, nervous energy around him drains away. Severus raises his eyebrows. “What is it, Harry?”

“I thought—I thought you would say for certain there was no way I could win.” Harry rubs his mouth. “And then I was going to talk to you about the stone and show that I needed it to win…”

Severus almost smiles at the transparent discussion of strategy, but pushes away the impulse, which Harry would take badly right now. He leans back and clasps his hands, studying his ward. “I do not know what Voldemort is doing right now. It is unlike his tactics in the last war. That could indicate that he has changed his mind and intends to be more subtle in the long term. At the same time, unleashing werewolves the way he has done in the recent past is…not subtle.”

“So why does that lead to thinking I might win?”

“Because it might indicate he’s afraid of you.”

Harry stares at him with wide eyes, and then laughs, a mixture of sadness and anger and fear that makes Severus’s heart ache. “You think—of course he’s not. He might be afraid of what the Ministry could do if they believed me, but they don’t—”

“Why is it so beyond reason that he’s afraid of you? Especially when he apparently attacked you as a child because he was afraid of you?”

Harry shakes his head and raises one trembling hand to stroke Lion, who is hissing in what Severus thinks sounds like agitation. “I can’t—I can’t count on that,” he whispers. “He might be afraid, but he might not, and if I do something wrong and count on him being afraid when he’s not, people are going to die—”

“They will die anyway, Harry, no matter how confident you are.” Severus tries to gentle his voice when he sees the utterly miserable expression on Harry’s face, but these words need to be said. “It is war. They will die. What you can do is your best, so that the war will end as soon as possible and not as many people will perish. But you cannot prevent it altogether.”

Harry blinks and slumps back against the wall. Lion pulls his tail out of the way with an irritated hiss, presumably before Harry can crush it against the stone. Severus leans back and studies Harry again.

“This is a surprise to you?”

“I thought—I mean, I knew I had to do my best. But it’s—you said it isn’t my fault.”

Harry’s voice is very small. Severus sighs, stands, and comes over to put his hands gently on Harry’s shoulders. Harry stares up at him, eyes bright with a kind of wonder that makes Severus wish the Dursleys had not died so quickly.

“It is not,” Severus says, and gives Harry a slight, gentle shake. “Voldemort chose to attack you and your parents. Dumbledore and the rest of the magical world chose to deify you. The Ministry is choosing now to ignore Voldemort’s return and maintain, at best, an uneasy alliance with you. Grown adults who could have done something about the Death Eaters in the first war chose to ignore the war or flee the country, and will probably make the same choice this time. It is not up to you to stop this war just because other people want you to.”

Harry nods, eyes still staring at something distant. Then he reaches up and gently squeezes Severus’s shoulder. It startles Severus to realize that he can now reach up that far, even if Harry is still a good ten inches shorter than Severus himself.

“Thank you,” Harry says. “I think—I think there was some kind of influence in my mind from the dreams Voldemort was trying to use on me that might have made me more prone to…” He searches for the words while Severus waits. “Prone to thinking it was my fault. Because it’s like a bubble popped now and common sense returned again.”

Severus thins his lips. He wishes Occlumency worked to block the link between Harry and Voldemort, but they have worked on it enough times for him to be sure there is probably no Occlumency in existence that would help. What seems to help the most is keeping the link between Harry and Mr. Nott active, so Nott can interfere if Harry’s dreams of Voldemort get too bad.

“If you find yourself drowning under such ideas again, please come to talk to me immediately.” It’s all he can do to keep his voice calm. Now, his words were enough to pierce such mental influence, but who knows what kinds of tricks Voldemort might get up to in the future that would be more resistant?

“Thanks, Severus. I will.”

Severus briefly tightens his hands on Harry’s shoulders in what is not quite an embrace, Harry leans towards him in what is not quite one either, and they part to go their respective classes.

*

“I didn’t like the way your mind felt.”

Harry nods as he strokes Lion’s back, and Lion leans towards him and flicks his tongue against the shell of Harry’s ear. “I know. I’m sorry,” Harry murmurs in Parseltongue, Lion said something like that yesterday, but Harry didn’t pay much attention. It seems he should have.

He shoves aside the blame and guilt that his mind is trying to make him feel over that. Ever since the dream where Voldemort convinced him he had burned Little Whinging to the ground, Harry is more prone to blame himself, more prone to despair and jump to conclusions.

He didn’t realize it until he felt Severus’s words pierce the odd, dark membrane that Voldemort left in his mind. But now he knows, and he never plans to let Voldemort’s mental tricks take him unawares again.

“Is it going to happen again?”

Harry sighs and gently touches Lion’s wings, smiling when Lion gives a happy hiss and wriggle. “I’ll try not to, but our enemy will try to attack my mind. Can you give me warning if you feel that my mind is going that way again?” It’s a huge burden to put on a small winged snake, Harry thinks, but at least Lion ought to recognize that feeling.

Lion hisses again and winds his tail around Harry’s neck until it’s almost tight enough to cut off his air. “I will tell you. I didn’t like it. You ought to always have a mind that I can feel and that I like.” This time, his tongue darts right into Harry’s ear, making Harry laugh a little.

“Harry?”

Harry glances up with a smile. Blaise is standing near the staircase that Harry will have to go up to make his way to Charms, and Harry runs towards him, taking the steps two at a time. Blaise starts and runs after him.

“Thanks for explaining why you didn’t want to help me go after that stone, Blaise.”

Blaise starts again, harder this time, and stares at him with wide eyes. “You’re—”

“Probably not fully healed, but better, yeah.” Harry lowers his voice as they step into a corridor filled with hurrying students, some of whom give Harry suspicious glances he does his best to ignore. “Voldemort was influencing my mind. Making me believe the war was my fault, making me more prone to despair. Severus snapped me out of it, but I couldn’t have done it on my own.”

Blaise’s eyes gleam for a second. “Good to hear. Fucking Voldemort,” he adds, in a voice Harry suspects is deliberately loud enough to be heard. A Ravenclaw looks like she might faint.

“Maybe the problem is that no one will fuck him?” Harry asks thoughtfully.

That makes much more than one person turn to stare at him. Harry just laughs and walks with Blaise to Charms, feeling as though someone has shone a light into his mind and cleared away all the cobwebs.

It’ll happen again. But this time around, I might recognize it.

And maybe, maybe, I can win.