lomonaaeren

“Thank you for bringing me this news, children.”

Hermione bit her lip and exchanged a glance with Ron. He looked like he wanted to ask questions, and honestly, so did Hermione. Dumbledore was sitting so quietly behind his desk, his head bowed as if someone had hung a heavy weight from his neck.

Did we do that?

But Hermione thought that Professor Dumbledore should have known some of this before. He’d been shaken when Harry got Sorted into Slytherin, she thought. So hopefully they were just bringing him bad news that confirmed what he already knew, instead of something completely unexpected.

“What are you going to do about it, sir?”

Hermione breathed out a little. Honestly, she was glad Ron was there. He could be blunter than she’d dare and demand the answers to questions that she might have thought were too disrespectful to ask.

“What can I do about it if Mr. Potter turns his back on us, Mr. Weasley?”

Hermione blinked. “You’re still Harry’s mentor, sir,” she said. “He respects you. I’m sure of it.”

Dumbledore sighed. “You have not noticed that I have been avoiding him of late?”

“Well, yes, sir, but I thought that was because you knew that he was becoming—really close friends with Slytherins, and you wanted to make sure that he couldn’t get any new information to pass on to them.”

“In truth, the only potentially sensitive information that Harry has access to is the location of the Order’s safehouse, and the Fidelius Charm will prevent him from telling someone else.” Dumbledore sighed again and leaned back in his seat. “No, I suspect that Voldemort has a means of seeing through Harry’s eyes.”

Hermione felt as though someone had punched her in the chest. “Sir? What? Why?”

“I don’t know exactly how the mechanics of the connection work yet, and I do not want to reveal them to you before I have revealed them to young Harry.” The Headmaster closed his eyes. “But I wanted you to know that the connection does exist.”

“And you can’t tell Harry?”

“Not without alerting Voldemort at the same time,” Dumbledore said simply.

Hermione still felt fear rush through her when someone spoke that name, but she nodded. “Yes, sir. I see.”

And she felt as though it were horribly unfair to leave Harry without that knowledge, but she did understand. If Voldemort could grasp and use the connection…

Then Harry was going to be in danger along with everyone else when Voldemort was looking out through his eyes and absorbing information from his brain. Harry wouldn’t mean to betray them, but that was what would happen.

“I trust that you will continue your efforts to bring Mr. Potter back to our side and keep him safe from his new friends?” Dumbledore asked softly then, his eyes resting on Hermione for a moment before traveling to Ron. “He cannot be entirely lost. I am working on ways that we might be able to close the connection eventually, although I am limited by the small number of people I can speak to without taking a risk. But I do want to be able to look Harry in the eye again someday.” He sighed. “And apologize to him.”

“Yes, sir,” Hermione said quietly.

She and Ron left the office with their heads bowed. Ron kept looking over his shoulder, and Hermione remained silent. She knew that he wanted to say something, but he wouldn’t if she pressured or hurried him.

She was trying to be better than that, since—well, since what had happened this summer, and Harry either thinking that was enough to abandon them, or having someone else convince him that it was.

“He said it was open.”

Hermione nodded, appreciating that Ron didn’t want to say exactly what Dumbledore had told them outside his office. “Yes.”

“Then you think that it could have influenced Harry?”

Hermione nodded again. She’d started considering that the minute that Professor Dumbledore started talking about it. “Yes,” she whispered again. “Oh, Ron! I hope that we haven’t lost him forever.”

“We haven’t,” Ron said, and gripped her fingers enough to numb them. “We’re going to get him back, Hermione, no matter what.”

Hermione wiped her eyes and nodded. Ron was right. Of course he was. They couldn’t give up on Harry now, especially knowing that it wasn’t really his idea to abandon them for the Slytherins.

“I know, Ron. We’ll bring him back.”

Ron squeezed her fingers even harder, and then let them go, and they went down the stairs and back to Gryffindor Tower, there to think and plan.

*

“What are you doing here, Weasley?”

It was Malfoy, sneering at Ron where he stood around the corner from the Slytherin common room waiting for Harry, but Ron ignored him. He knew now that Malfoy was just a git and not the most dangerous person taking Harry away from them. That person was Nott.

I should have known that Harry wouldn’t find Malfoy tolerable even if You-Know-Who is influencing him.

“Waiting for Harry.”

“He doesn’t want to be your friend anymore.”

Ron ignored the stab of anxiety that those words made spike to life in him, too. Hermione was right. The Slytherins would try anything they could to take Harry away, to detach him, and destroy the future of the war at the same time. Ron just had to remember that this wasn’t Harry’s idea, and he couldn’t act like it was.

“Oh? He tells you every thought that passes through his head?”

Malfoy glared, and then the door of the common room swung open and Harry stepped out.

With Nott next to him, of course, but some things couldn’t be helped. Besides, Ron had nothing to say to Harry that couldn’t be said in public, because it wasn’t like they could let on that they knew Voldemort was influencing Harry to Harry himself.

“What do you want?”

Harry’s voice was glacial, his eyes so cold that Ron swallowed. He had once heard a few people in the common room whispering about how scary his best friend was. Ron had thought they were stupid at the time, but he could see what they’d meant now.

“I wanted to let you know that no matter what happens,” Ron said strongly, “no matter what people tell you, we’re not going to give up on you, mate. They can lie to you all they want. We’re still going to be right here.”

“Like you were during the summer?”

“That was a mistake,” Ron admitted, although his stomach twisted as he did it. He’d never liked apologizing. But he had to. “I’m sorry. But we understand how it hurt now, and we won’t leave you alone again.”

Harry was silent, staring at Ron. The expression on his face was the warmest that Ron had seen since Harry’s new Sorting, though. For a moment, he allowed himself to hope.

Then Nott put his hand on Harry’s shoulder and leaned forwards to whisper into his ear.

Harry’s face darkened, and he gave a laugh that made Ron feel as though a Blast-Ended Skrewt had breathed on him. “Yeah, and you’ll do that until Dumbledore tells you to do something else,” he snapped. “You used that excuse once before. You obey him. You’re friendlier with him than you are with me.”

“What? Harry, that’s not true!”

“Of course it is. You’ll come up with any excuse to reject me.”

Harry seemed to be expecting some response in particular out of that, but Ron had no idea what he was talking about. He shook his head. “We are not going to reject you.”

“Even if I’m gay?”

Ron stared at him. Then he said, “You’re gay?”

Harry flinched back. “You sure were right, Theo,” he said, not taking his eyes off Ron. “I don’t think that was even five seconds.”

“Harry, I wasn’t rejecting you! I was just—surprised! You were talking last year about going to the Yule Ball with Cho, and then you went with Parvati, and I thought you still had a crush on Cho—”

“Because nobody ever changes, of course.” Nott’s eyes glinted with vicious amusement. Ron wondered, with a sinking heart, if Harry really didn’t see it, or just chose to ignore it. “Everyone should always be exactly the same as they were at fourteen. Or twelve. Or eleven.”

“I didn’t know—you didn’t tell us, Harry!”

“Because I knew you would react like this.”

Ron shook his head furiously. “I told you, I’m just surprised.” And a little worried about Ginny, but Ron couldn’t mention that in front of Nott. The Slytherin would find some way to torment his sister about it. “I don’t hate you. I could never hate you, mate.”

“But you could abandon me.”

Ron bit his lip against the temptation to explain. That would get into the information Dumbledore had shared about the way Voldemort was accessing Harry’s mind, the kind of thing that Harry couldn’t know. “I did apologize for that,” he said, a little surprised at how steady his own voice was. “Do you want me to apologize again?”

“I want you not to have done it.”

“Well, unless you have a Time-Turner, I can’t change the past now,” Ron snapped, his temper rising to match Harry’s. “So I don’t know what you want me to do about it.”

“Maybe stop conspiring with Dumbledore?”

“What?”

“I know that you went to his office a few days ago, you and Hermione. Right after that conversation you had with me.” Harry’s eyes glittered like pieces of broken glass. “You’re going to do whatever he advises, again. Aren’t you?”

“Mate—”

“Maybe he could trust you if you told him what Dumbledore wanted and let him decide on his own if it was worth doing,” Nott said. His eyes were bright with enjoyment now, and the way that he put his arm around Harry’s shoulders and shifted closer made Ron feel sure he knew where Harry’s “revelation” had come from. “What did you discuss with the Headmaster?”

Ron clamped his mouth shut.

“Yeah,” Harry said, and his voice was light, but Ron knew him well enough to hear the rage and pain behind it. “I thought you would choose him over me, again. Every time I start doubting it, you show me why I have to believe it.”

“Mate, it’s—there are things going on that—we’ll tell you about them as soon as we can, but—”

Ron knew his eyes had darted to Harry’s scar, because Harry just put a hand over it and laughed bitterly again. “Because I might get possessed, right? Reveal the information to Voldemort in a dream?”

Ron knew his mouth was open, and he stared at Harry with his mind rippling like a stream of water, not having any idea what to say.

After a long moment, Harry snorted and rolled his eyes. “Come on, Theo. We might as well not be late to breakfast.”

Nott nodded and continued to hold the arm in place around Harry’s shoulders as he followed Harry down the corridor. His smile aimed back at Ron was bright and unpleasant, before he bent down and began fervently whispering in Harry’s ear. Harry smiled and nodded, then frowned and shook his head.

It heartened Ron, a little, to see that Harry was resisting something about Nott’s indoctrination, but he didn’t think it would be enough in the end.

He stood still with his eyes shut, ignoring the few taunts that Malfoy flung at him as he followed Harry and Nott. Then Ron turned around and ran for the Headmaster’s office.

In a way, he hated to do it, because that would make it look like he was more loyal to Dumbledore the way Harry had accused him of, but Dumbledore needed to know about this right away. If Harry knew about the connection and was still listening to the Slytherins…

Ron just hoped they weren’t too late to save him.

*

“Another week of detention, dear.”

Hermione closed her eyes as she stepped out of Umbridge’s office, breathing unsteady as she fought tears. Her hand hurt so much. But it hurt more to keep her mouth closed on the words that she knew were the right ones.

It would hurt more to avoid detention for not speaking up.

For being a collaborator, the way Harry is.

“Does it hurt?”

Hermione whipped around, hand falling to her wand. She hated that Harry’s voice once would have made her relax in assurance of complete safety, and now it did this.

But Harry was leaning against the wall not far from the door of Umbridge’s office, and his arms were folded, and he was looking at Hermione’s hand instead of into her face. That made Hermione stand up and say as coldly as she could, “Yes, it does. I suppose you don’t feel the same kind of pain because you’re too numb to anything but your own self-interest to notice now.”

A small, odd smile flickered across Harry’s face and then faded. “If you want to comfort yourself by thinking that. But there’s something else that you should think about.”

“What?” Hermione did her best to scan the corridor without taking her eyes away from Harry. It didn’t seem like an ambush by Harry and other Slytherins, but events had proven that she no longer knew her best friend—one of her best friends—the way she’d thought she did.

“I went through worse this summer, for longer.”

“Comparing different kinds of pain is just—so stupid!” Hermione snapped. Then she hissed as she formed her hand into a fist and more blood seeped out. “It doesn’t negate or end my pain because you were suffering, too!”

“No. But I’ve suffered more than you have.”

“I told you, comparing different kinds of pain—”

“No. I mean altogether.” Harry leaned forwards, eyes wide as an owl’s. “Last year when I was the one who got accused of cheating and got used in a ritual and saw Cedric die in front of me. The year before that when I was the one who thought a deranged murderer was after me and people were actively lying to me about Sirius being my godfather. The year before that, when the rest of the school shunned me, again. And the first year, when Quirrell died when I touched him. You never went through any of that.” He broke off, panting, and Hermione stared at him, wondering how long he had been keeping all that penned up. “But you know what made it bearable?”

“What?” Hermione whispered.

“I had you two. I had two people in the whole world I could trust and rely on, people who stood by my side. That faith cracked last year when it seemed like Ron abandoned me, but he came back in the end.” Harry took a deep breath. “And then I saw it wasn’t a fluke, that he really is like that, only this time you went with him.”

“Harry, oh, Harry, that’s not true—”

“Isn’t it?” Harry’s eyes were filled with snapping fire, and Hermione almost wanted the cold blankness that she’d seen before back. Harry stepped towards her. “Then tell me why you listened to Dumbledore and left me all alone in the Muggle world with what I’d seen.”

“I can tell you what Professor Dumbledore told us. But I don’t think it’s going to convince you.”

Probably nothing will, if Voldemort is influencing his mind right now.

“Tell me anyway.”

Harry had his arms folded. Hermione concentrated on that, on the fact that he hadn’t just walked away yet, as she spoke. “He said that the most important thing was protecting you in the Muggle world. It’s known—people know that we’re your friends, and they could track our owls and find you if we wrote anything substantial to you—”

“How would they know the difference between substantial owls and the insubstantial ones that you sent to me?”

“I mean, we basically assumed that our letters were being tracked and intercepted at all times. We just tried to make what we wrote to you less damaging. Instead of stopping writing to you at all,” Hermione added, because she wanted him to know that it could have been worse, but neither she nor Ron had wanted to take that route.

Even if it would have been safer, in a way.

“Go on.”

“There were people watching Sirius, a lot of the time,” Hermione said. This was something she wasn’t sure Sirius knew, or that he would have told Harry if he did. Sirius concentrated a lot on not wanting to worry Hary and wanting him to be able to act like a normal child, which just wasn’t possible. “They could have tracked him if he left the house.”

“Maybe that was a reason to keep Sirius imprisoned, but why was it a reason to write vague things to me?”

“I mean that the last place they tracked him to would have been under watch. They couldn’t see through the Fidelius Charm or get inside Grimmauld Place, but they could wait on the street. If we were sending owls off all the time, someone would have noticed.”

“Then why not have the messages delivered another way?”

“There wasn’t a more secure way.”

“Of course there was. By Patronus or house-elf.”

“We aren’t supposed to do magic during the summers! And using Kreacher like that against his will would be horrible.”

“I suppose using Kreacher wouldn’t have worked,” Harry murmured, his eyes distant. “He and Sirius hate each other so much that he might have delivered the message to someone else or messed it up on purpose.”

“And it’s slavery, Harry. I know you know that.”

Harry looked back at her and half-shrugged with one shoulder. “My Muggle relatives made me do chores. Punished me if I didn’t. Made me sleep in the kind of small space that Kreacher and other house-elves probably sleep in. It not only didn’t bother anyone, it’s the kind of place that Dumbledore thought it was right to send me back to. Why should I care about anyone else forced to endure it, when they didn’t care about me?”

“You know it’s not the same,” Hermione began hotly.

“Oh, but it is. And you don’t care about me, either, Hermione. You probably think it would be ideal for me to go back next summer, don’t you, instead of staying in Grimmauld Place with Sirius?”

Hermione knew she hesitated too long.

“Fantastic,” Harry said, his voice splintering around them like bouncing chips of ice. “So good to know that one of my best friends is planning to abandon me in the future, too, as long as Dumbledore tells her it’s the right thing to do.”

“Harry—there are all sorts of things going on that you don’t know about—”

“Yeah, that’s what Ron said, too. And if you’re going to keep that information from me, I can’t make a decision based on it.”

“Harry. Please, give us a chance. Trust us—”

“If you wanted that to happen, you shouldn’t have chosen someone else over me,” Harry snapped, and turned his back.

Hermione didn’t call after him, because she didn’t think it would do any good. She just stood and watched him leave. And then she turned and walked towards Gryffindor Tower, squeezing her hand so a little more blood welled to the surface of her skin.

She wasn’t thinking that she should suffer more pain just because Harry had. Yes, what he had gone through was terrible. But putting more people through it wouldn’t heal his pain or make things right.

Hermione thought Harry had probably gone too far into his head to realize that, though. And she also thought she and Ron had reached the limits of what they could do. Harry wasn’t willing to listen to them, and might not ever be again.

It was time to call in reinforcements.

*

It had taken nearly a week of watching Harry and Nott to be sure of where they went, but Ron knew, now. They always spent a portion of the late afternoon, usually just before dinner, walking around the lake.

Ron let Hermione cast the Disillusionment Charm on him. It was something that she was so much better at, and in the end, this plan had been hers. She had decided that she would stay away so people would see at least one of them in Gryffindor Tower and be able to tell that to anyone who asked.

Ron was alone as he crossed the grounds and headed towards the lake, the shadows of dusk already thick around him.

He didn’t care for it.

He saw two figures ahead and increased his speed as much as he could without making the grass crunch beneath his feet. When he was a little closer, he could hear their hissed voices and see the way that Nott and Harry bent their heads together.

I still don’t understand why Harry decided that he could trust Nott. It’s not like he’s known him before this year or spent any time with him, let alone gone through the kind of things he did with us.

But the thought was useless, so Ron shook it away and walked more slowly as he came closer.

“—really think that?”

“I don’t know that they can make it clearer, Harry. You’ve seen the way they run straight to Dumbledore’s office every time you disagree with them.”

“But that’s not the same as saying that they’ve always been more loyal to him than to me. We went through so much together.” Harry wrapped his arms around himself and shivered. Ron frowned. Had Harry forgotten to cast Warming Charms on his robes again? Someone should have already done that for him.

Slytherin isn’t taking good care of him. But we knew that.

“They’ve always been more loyal to him because they turned their backs on you so easily,” Nott murmured. Ron didn’t yell in outrage, but he wanted to. “It only took one order from Dumbledore to make them stop writing to you. The only reason they never turned on you before this is that Dumbledore didn’t happen to give them orders to do that. You would have lost them earlier if he’d wanted you to.”

“But why would he tell them to turn on me?”

He never did! Nott is making you imagine that!

“Because he wants to isolate you,” Nott said, his head cocking, his eyebrows rising. “You saw it with this summer. You’re a valuable political asset. Dumbledore might not want to use you right now, but he doesn’t want to have anyone else control you, either.”

Harry ducked his chin down into his scarf and kept walking. Nott murmured a Warming Charm, and Harry turned towards him. Ron wasn’t close enough to see Harry’s smile, but he knew the way his friend looked when he did that.

Ron took a deep breath and forced his jealousy away. The important thing was that he hear what Harry told Nott about the letter he’d got from Sirius.

Why isn’t he talking about that?

“And he has my godfather,” Harry whispered.

“Yes, he does. He’s keeping him confined and closed up in a way that you said he didn’t last year. Away from you.” Nott paused. “What do you think of that? How do you feel about your godfather giving his loyalty to Dumbledore instead of you?”

Ron was close enough to hear Harry suck in a sharp breath of air. Then Harry whispered, “I—I hate it.”

“And you should.”

But you’re not influencing him, Nott, oh no.

“But I don’t see any way that it can change. As long as people think Sirius really betrayed my parents—”

Harry, you told him Sirius was innocent? I think Dumbledore was wrong about your not having access to a lot of sensitive information.

“Dumbledore could change it. He has enough power.”

“Are people really listening to him right now? The Prophet seems to indicate that they’re not.”

Nott placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder and halted him. It was dark enough now that Ron had to squint to make out the expression on Nott’s face, but then Harry lit his wand with a quiet Lumos Charm, which helped. Ron had to grudgingly admit that Nott was pretty good at feigning concern.

“I promise,” Nott said, his eyes locked on Harry’s, clinging to those of Ron’s best mate, “that certain people with influence could make sure the balance of public opinion changed if you wanted it to.”

“You’re talking about Voldemort.”

Nott visibly swallowed, but he said, “Not even the Dark Lord. My father has—certain influences on certain reporters within the Daily Prophet. He could make sure that you didn’t suffer from their torment anymore.”

“But he probably couldn’t do that in a way that guaranteed Sirius a trial. Because he would have to call them off Dumbledore. And I don’t think your father’s master would like that very much.”

“You don’t have to sound so contemptuous. Haven’t I told you about my own reservations? The way that I would follow someone if I had someone else to follow?”

Nott’s voice had sunk so low that it was hard for Ron to hear now. But Harry didn’t seem to have that problem. He pulled a little away from Nott. “But you would follow Voldemort if you had to, too.”

“I’m practical. I want to survive. If you don’t think the world is full of people who will roll over to protect themselves, you’re a lot more naïve than I thought you were.”

“I know they exist. But that’s never been an option for me.”

“I know. And your stubbornness is only one of the things I find so wonderfully attractive about you.”

Ron knew he was gaping, but at least they didn’t catch him doing it as Nott leaned forwards and kissed Harry softly. Harry gave a little gasp, his mouth opening under Nott’s, and Nott swayed in with his hand on Harry’s shoulder.

Ron turned and marched back towards the school, his face flaring with embarrassment as he went. He had learned less than he’d hoped to, but also a few things that he never could have guessed.

First, that freeing Sirius was one of the ways the Slytherins were trying to manipulate Harry.

Second, that they were trying to convince Harry that he wouldn’t have to bow to Voldemort, which at least made sense of why Harry seemed to think he might survive joining Voldemort, if he didn’t really do it.

And third, that Harry really was gay.