The Heart of Gryffindor
by SJR0301
Part II - Chapter Seven
Despite his happiness, Harry's dreams that night were filled with images of terror. Over and over, he leaped out to catch the grenade, but his grasping fingers just missed. He found himself suspended in the air as the thing fell and below him, a cloud of fire blossomed higher and higher, nearly, but not quite engulfing him. And when the smoke cleared, the land below him was a waste, empty and barren and poisoned.
On waking, he stared out into the rising sun and was deeply relieved to see green trees and growing flowers. His head ached from where it had struck a chair, as did the various bumps and bruises on his arm and hip, which Ginny had never gotten around to healing. Not that he minded that. A faint smile curled his lip at the memory and he whistled as he dressed for the day.
Harry was the last one to arrive at their small group class that morning. He slid into a seat and winced as the bruise on his hip twinged. With the exception of Austin, the others nodded or smiled at him and Johnny asked, "All right, Harry?"
He nodded back but Brittany cut in, "You don't look so good. You've got shadows under your eyes again." Her blue eyes surveyed him closely and he shifted, wishing she wouldn’t come so close. She reached out and pushed the fringe off his face to expose the bruising on his temple and then touched his wrist where black swelling ran up under his sleeve. "You haven't broken anything, have you?" she demanded. "You have been to the infirmary?"
He withdrew his hand in embarrassment and said stiffly, "It's just a few bruises. I don't need to go to the infirmary."
She frowned at him and said, "It's standard procedure after an incident. It's too bad Daniels was so busy taking a bite out of you that he didn't bother to ask if you were hurt."
"You'd better watch out, Harry," Hawkins said with a snicker, "Looks like Brittany would like to take a bite out of you herself."
Austin chuckled at that and MacCready glowered. Harry felt the flush creep up his face further when Brittany replied coolly, "He is awfully cute."
"Leave the kid alone," Carter said sharply, "you're embarrassing him, Brit, and he's way too young for you."
Feeling both irritated and humiliated at the implication that he was too young for anything, Harry said with as much cool as he could muster, "I think it's a great compliment. Only my girlfriend might not take it the right way, you know."
Unexpectedly, Brittany grinned mischievously, "Ginny? Has she got the temper to go with her red hair?"
"Oh, yeah," Harry answered. "It's a Weasley thing. Their whole family is like that. But their hearts are even greater than their tempers, so I don't mind." He paused and added ruefully, "Besides, I've got a bit of a temper myself."
"It nearly got you kicked out yesterday, too," Johnny said. He would have said more, only Bones strode in just then and everyone quieted as he launched into the day’s lesson.
"One of the most important skills an investigating officer can have," Bones said to their small group, "is the ability to question a suspect effectively."
Harry twitched under the Inspector’s gaze. He had reason to recall just how effectively Bones could question a suspect.
"There are different kinds of questions an officer needs to ask," Bones continued. "There are fact questions that related directly to the evidence you may have collected. There are character questions meant to gain you insight into the suspect. Is this the kind of person who might have done the crime you're investigating? There are background questions that may be important to show you connections to other things. You need to develop the ability to know which questions to ask and how to ask them to get the answers you need." He paused and said, "Just remember, the answers you need are not always the answers you want. It's very important to be objective and not to let a preformed idea of who is most likely to be the prep keeps you from asking all the questions necessary. What you need to get at, always, is the truth, whether it fits with your ideas or not. And that's especially true when you’re dealing with terrorists as we are here. Just because a man is a foreign national, it doesn't mean he is necessarily one of the groups you may be investigating. And just because a person is a little old lady or appears to be an upstanding British citizen, doesn't mean they might not be involved up to their eyeballs."
Everyone nodded and the Inspector continued, "What we'll be doing in the next few classes is practicing interrogation techniques. And that does not mean how best to use a rubber hose." He considered each of them in turn and said, "For purposes of today's class, assume you're investigating another classmate for a murder and possible connections to a terrorist group. Each of you will question another in turn. Then after, I'll provide comments and suggestions. The person being questioned may pretend he or she is actually the culprit or not. But you've got something to hide in any case. The interrogator will need to identify from the answers, body language, and such, whether the suspect is being truthful or lying. Is that clear?"
Again, everyone nodded. "Very well," Bones said. "Austin, as the only experienced policeman here, why don't you have a go first?"
Austin nodded calmly and said, "Right. Potter, I've got a few questions for you." His pale eyes were calm and professional, but Harry thought he could sense a hint of pleasure behind the cool demeanor. He felt the hair on the back of his neck rise and settled his face into the expression of calm indifference that had infuriated Snape quite frequently.
"What exactly are you taking?" Austin snapped at Harry.
"Taking?" Harry asked. Then he realized Austin was harping on his old suspicions and said, "Nothing at all." Despite his resolutions to keep a blank face, he couldn't help rolling his eyes in irritation.
"Nothing?" Austin repeated with transparent disbelief. "Then you won't mind rolling up your sleeves so we can get a look, will you?"
"Yeah, I mind," Harry, said coolly. "This isn't what we're supposed to be doing. We're supposed to be role-playing, not indulging your fixations."
Austin, however, did not waver at the insult. He rested his hands on the table in front of Harry and leaned in. "You're a suspect, boy, in detention for questioning. If I want to know what your weaknesses are, I'll ask any questions I like. I want to know if you, a suspected murderer with terrorist links, have got a drug habit. So roll up your sleeves like a good cooperative boy or we might have to let you stew in the lock-up for the night. Or maybe for several."
Harry looked at Bones for guidance. Bones simply said; "Go ahead. It's part of the exercise."
Shrugging with irritation, Harry fumbled with the button on his cuff and rolled back the sleeve on his good arm. Austin nodded and said, "Now the other."
Harry took a deep breath and cleared the irritation from his face, though he could not completely control the faint flush that heated his cheeks. He unbuttoned his other cuff and rolled up his sleeve. Austin's pale eyes widened and then met his. "I thought you said you weren't hurt."
"I told you," Harry said, his irritation breaking through, "It's just bruises. I think the little old ladies I landed on came off worse than I did." He paused and a tiny involuntary grin pulled at the corner of his mouth. "One of them was cursing like a dock man. She had a few words I'd never even heard before."
"You are an idiot," Bones cut in. "Didn't you go to the medic, like I told you to."
Harry shrugged again. "There's nothing broken and they had plenty of people who really needed help." He glared at Bones, who had stuck him in this position and said, "I've had worse."
Bones stilled momentarily and then responded, "I know you have. Very well," he added, "Carry on."
Harry rolled his sleeves back down but didn't bother buttoning them. He had his face back under control by the time he looked up and waited for Austin's next question. He nearly lost it altogether though when Austin asked, "Tell me about the Lord of Death."
"I'm not talking about that," Harry said flatly. "Ask about anything else."
"That's not how it works," Austin answered coolly. "I decide what questions to ask and you answer them."
"Nobody makes me answer questions if I don't want to," Harry replied coldly.
"Let's try again," Austin said patiently. "The more you cooperate, the sooner you'll be out of here. If you don't cooperate, we put you in the lock-up and throw away the key. But first, we keep asking every question you don't want asked, so you may as well bow to the inevitable and answer."
"I didn't bow to Voldemort," Harry answered, "and I'm certainly not going to bow to you." He thought that Bones might have moved as if to interfere, but he kept his eyes on Austin's. The policeman, however, looked simply interested.
"I notice you call him Voldemort when he only used that name once, on the window at Harrods," Austin commented. "All the other times he took credit, it was as the Lord of Death. You knew him quite well, then, didn't you? Did you work for him? Is that how you know so much about him?"
"No, I didn't work for him," Harry said. "He murdered my parents."
"So you said," Austin replied. "Then your parents, perhaps, worked for him? Were they in his gang and had a falling out?"
"Of course, they didn't work for him," Harry said angrily. He knew he was giving away too much. He knew he should be controlling his responses better, but somehow, his ability to stay cool, as he had learned through Occlumency was deserting him.
"Okay," Austin said soothingly. Unexpectedly, he changed the subject then, so that Harry was caught off guard once more. "How did you know about the lights and the backstage area yesterday?"
Harry gawked at him for a moment and then answered, "I explained that yesterday. I saw there was a spotlight, so I knew there had to be scaffolding for the techs to get at it."
"So you said," Austin replied. "But how did you know that? That there would have to be access if you'd never been there?"
"Well, I was in a play once," Harry answered. He was relieved to move onto a different subject.
"In a play?" Austin asked. "What, you played Peter Pan in a school panto?"
"We don't do pantos at my school," Harry answered. A fleeting image of what a school play might look like at Hogwarts nearly made him snicker. He could just see Hamlet done with the Sir Nicholas playing the ghost.
"Your school?" Austin asked. "Which one did you say that was?"
"A small public school up in the north," Harry answered warily. "You won't have heard of it."
"Perhaps it doesn't exist," Austin suggested.
"It does," Bones cut in. "You were getting off subject a bit at the end there, but very good Austin. Very good indeed."
"I wasn't finished," Austin protested, "and he didn't answer the last question. What play were you in then and when?"
Not seeing any harm in answering the question, Harry said, "I played a pirate in Hamlet two summers ago at a theatre on the Embankment. It was rather fun. I got to swing on a rope and stuff."
"You'd have been underage," Austin said swiftly. "How'd you get into a production in London?"
"I lied and told them I was eighteen," Harry said calmly. "It's not a crime or anything, and I needed a job."
"Why would you need a job," Austin responded quickly, "if you were well off enough to go to public school?"
Harry shrugged. There seemed no great harm in answering so he said, "I got sick of my Aunt and Uncle so I took off, only I couldn't get at my bank account so I had to find work."
"You lived with your Aunt and Uncle?"
"Vernon and Petunia Dursley’s of Little Winging, Surrey. It's a very respectable place, Little Winging is," Harry answered with only a hint of disdain. "And then there was my cousin, Dudley, who's even bigger and dumber than Norway. My uncle was the director of a company. I expect he'd think being a policeman isn't very respectable. I'm not sure which one is less respectable, being an actor or a policeman."
Austin looked hideously annoyed at the suggestion that being a policeman was inferior or less respectable than anything and Harry nodded and said sympathetically, "You'd have run away from them, too, I promise you."
***
Austin was good, Carter thought, but there were questions he hadn't followed up on. And he hadn't noticed that Bones had interfered several times just when things were getting interesting. What exactly had Harry meant when he'd said he'd had worse? And Bones had accepted that and let the kid go on without sending him to the infirmary. It was odd; really, that Bones let the kid gets away with so much. And now, just when the questions were getting answers, he was stopping things again.
"Right," Bones said. "MacCready, why don't you take a crack at it." He added firmly when Mac looked at Harry as though he would he had a few questions of his own, "Choose another victim, too. This is a lesson, not an actual interrogation."
"Okay," Mac said. He stood up, considered the others who had not taken a turn yet and said, "Brittany, then. Where were you last night?"
"Not telling," Brittany answered. Her blue eyes were sparkling with annoyance.
"A murder was done last night," Mac said steadily. "Where were you?"
A spark of wicked mischief lit her face and Johnny thought, not now Brittany. But not having the ability to read minds, she said, "With Harry."
Next to him, Harry flushed bright pink and said, "You were not!"
"You're supposed to be my alibi," she responded.
"Don't put me in the middle of things," he responded. "I've already done my bit today."
"Have you?" Brittany asked so mischievously that Johnny kicked her in the foot under the table. Mac was turning purple and Bones looked as though he were suppressing laughter and was doing nothing to stop her antics.
"Where were you last night?" Mac repeated.
Brittany sighed. "All by myself," she answered sadly. "No alibi, I'm afraid."
"You disappoint me," Mac said sarcastically. He looked about as if trying for inspiration since, and then asked, "What's your connection to the Anglo Aryan Alliance?"
Brittany blinked. "My what?"
"Connection to the Anglo Aryan Alliance," Mac repeated. Good one, Johnny thought. The alliance was an actual political group with suspected terrorist ties. They had been recruiting on campus until the university had banned them for anti-social behavior at a rally.
"I don't have any connections with those sickos," Brittany answered vehemently.
"Who're they?" Harry asked curiously.
"Neo-nazi nutters," Mac answered. "I thought everyone had heard of them."
"Oh," Harry said. "Sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt."
Mac turned his attention back to Brittany and said accusingly, "You went to one of their rallies, didn't you? What do you know about them?"
"I went to see what they were about," Brittany replied. She had given up on using her charm to annoy Mac and a frown carved a fine line between her brows. "It's funny you ask about them," she added. "I really went because Dad asked me to sass them out."
"Really?" Mac asked. He had forgotten he was supposed to be playing the interrogator. "He shouldn't have sent you there when you weren't trained yet."
"I was just observing, like any other student," Brittany answered. "Anyway, that was a couple of years ago, before they were sure they might pose any real threat. They just seemed, you know, like they were hung up on the glories of antique Britain and its glorious all-white, Anglo-Saxon past." This last was said in the tone of derision she usually reserved for broken nails and a bad hair day. "Merde, that's what they are. They wish World War II had had a different outcome."
Mac had run out of steam after that and Johnny exchanged glances with Hawk in silent understanding on who should go next. Hawk almost certainly wanted the same as he did, to ask Harry a few more questions. So when Bones looked at them and said, "Carter, Hawkins, which of you wants to go next?", Hawk said easily, "why not let Harry have a go at being the questioner this time. There's always next class for one of us." Fortunately, Harry had taken the bait, saying, "Yeah, why not?" He shot a sharp glance, however, at Hawk and Johnny that warned he was on to them anyway.
Bones, too, gave them a knowing look, but nodded encouragingly at Harry all the same. Harry considered them each briefly and stood almost lazily before turning his bright green stare on Austin. He said nothing for one moment and one might have wondered whether he was simply gathering his thoughts if it weren't for the expression in his eyes, which resembled nothing so much as a hunting cat tracking his prey.
"Why did you search my room?" he asked Austin.
Other than a slight narrowing of his pale eyes, Austin showed no reaction as he answered, "I was looking for drugs."
"So you said," Harry commented. "But that only tells me what you were looking for; it doesn't answer my question. Why? Whose idea was it?"
"I wanted proof that you were on something," Austin responded. "You had all the signs of it: excessive thinness, low stamina, lack of focus and exhaustion in the afternoons..." He shrugged and stared back at Harry as if determined to discompose him, but the kid seemed unbothered by that.
"Was it your idea?" Harry asked again more sharply. "Or did you discuss it with anyone? Norway, maybe?"
Austin frowned and said; "I discussed it with Norway, sure. But it was my idea."
Harry simply looked at Austin, green eyes seeming to take the officer's measure as they met the other's pale ones.
"That's not entirely true, is it?" he asked.
Bones shifted, as though once again he would interrupt, but Austin answered, "I talked it over with Norway. We agreed it was a good idea."
"But Norway suggested it first, didn't he?" Harry pressed. Austin shrugged, but the slight frown on his face suggested a seed of doubt had been planted. "What's this got to do with terrorists or the lesson?"
"Maybe nothing more than the questions you asked me?" Harry responded. Swiftly, before Austin could reply, he asked more insistently, "So maybe Norway suggested the search. Did he say why he wanted to search my room?"
"We agreed you were probably on something," Austin answered.
"You agreed? So did he bring up the subject first, or did you?" Harry asked. "Perhaps he started the discussion? Maybe he led the talk around to your thinking? Maybe he already knew your opinion?"
"Yeah, he already knew my opinion," Austin said coolly. "Half the people here knew it and most of them agreed with it."
Johnny thought with fascination that the kid was working like someone already fully trained. He didn't even hesitate or take the bait and try to defend himself.
"So when you went in," Harry asked, "Was Norway looking for the same thing? Did he look for anything else? Did he comment about anything else?"
Austin, being himself an experienced officer, raised his eyebrows and asked, "Like what?"
This time Harry paused, and though he did not take his eyes from Austin's, he seemed to have gone through some internal debate. With sudden decision, he dug into his pocket and brought out something and with a quick flourish he showed Austin a small square object. A playing card, The ace of diamonds.
"Like that?" Harry asked. His head was tipped slightly to the side and his green eyes had intensified. The trap was laid and his quarry was out of options.
"Why that?" Austin responded, frowning again. Harry waited and Austin added slowly, "I know he plays cards, but so what?"
"Did you know him before you started here?" Harry snapped out.
"No," Austin said. Johnny could almost follow his thoughts. He had thought this was about Harry's annoyance, a desire to get back at Austin for invading his privacy, for accusing him before his friends and officers.
"Do you know any of his friends, the ones he plays cards with?" Harry asked.
Austin shook his head. Clearly, the line of questions disconcerted him. If he knew what Johnny knew, he would be even more so. Johnny spared a quick look at Mac and saw that the engineer was adding things up in his very logical mind.
"Do you know them?" Austin asked back suddenly. An old copper's trick. Turn the questions back again.
"I've seen their like," Harry answered, "and I'd guess they're a rum bunch indeed. Definitely not the sort of friends an upstanding army man should keep."
Curiouser and curiouser, Johnny thought.
"You're quite the trickster with those cards, aren't you?" Austin asked. "They go along with your magic books, do they?" The pale eyes were gleaming as though he'd score a point, and Bones shifted again.
Harry, however, chuckled and his green eyes were full of innocent mischief. "That's right," he answered. "It's a hobby of mine. So what about this card?" he asked, flourishing another, which Johnny saw without surprise, was the same card they had used in their e-mail message, the King of Cups.
Austin shook his head and said, "That's not a regular playing card."
"Did Norway ever mention this to you? Or any like this?" Harry asked. His thin face was fiercely intent and his body poised as if to spring.
"No," Austin said. "Nothing like that." He studied Harry just as intently back and asked, "Why are you asking this?"
"You really don't know?" Harry asked. His tone was such that Austin took offense and said, "Why don't you just play a trick or two with those cards. I'm sure you'd be better at a con like that than at trying to play an officer on the up and up."
"Why don't I?" Harry said coolly.
For the third time, Bones looked as though he would stop things, but his grey eyes were also intently curious, and he did nothing. Harry shuffled the cards with elegant dexterity in his long, slim fingers and handed the deck to Austin. "Go ahead and cut them," he said.
Austin shot the kid a look, as that was as cynical and knowing as any Johnny had ever seen. He grinned very slightly as he cut the deck once and then twice. "Roll up your sleeves again," he suggested.
Harry raised an eyebrow, but did exactly that. The bruises on the one arm and wrist looked worse than they had before, but he acted as though they did not exist. Keeping his bright green gaze on Austin, he said, "Pick a card, any card."
Austin complied and looked at it with some puzzlement. Then his pale eyes narrowed in satisfaction and he said, "So, go on, then. Which card have I got? I'll give you a clue, too. It's not the ace of diamonds."
"You've got the fool," Harry said calmly.
"Wrong," Austin said. "It's the joker."
Harry reached out and turned over the card and said quietly, "I'm afraid you're wrong. It's the Fool, and that's what you are."
Austin looked even more offended than he had before and got up to go. But Harry laid a hand on Austin's and said intently, "The Fool can be a kind of a warning, you know. It shows the man standing at the edge of a cliff about to step off into a chasm, which he doesn't even notice. You need to be careful and look where you're going. Don't trust in appearances or take people at their word. Don't trust Norway, whatever you do, or you may find yourself falling into a chasm with no way back to firm footing."
This time, Bones did interrupt. "I think that's enough, Potter.
Oddly, Harry turned to him and said, "No it's not. He's all right. But he's been deceived by Norway once. If it happens again, it could cost him and he has to be warned."
"That's a hell of a con," Austin said. But his pale eyes were full of questions, for Harry had spoken with such conviction that Johnny could see the officer was reassessing his thinking and his eyes fixed on the bruises on Harry's arm and temple as though they were a map to a destination for which he lost his directions.
Harry turned back to Austin and said simply, "I don't care what you think of me. Just be careful."
Afterwards, Johnny had hovered outside the door waiting and had heard Bones say in tones of the greatest exasperation, "Did you really have to pull a stunt like that?"
To which Harry had answered, "You've been a policeman too long, Inspector."
Carter and MacCready were waiting when Harry left the small group classroom.
"Whatever were you thinking when you questioned Austin about all that?" Johnny asked.
Harry stopped and glanced around to be sure no one else was in earshot. "It was the perfect opening," he answered. "Besides," he added in irritation, "he raised the question in a way when he asked me about drugs again."
"Yeah," MacCready cut in. "Except you act like you're obsessed with Norway. I mean, what made you use the cards in the first place when we sent those e-mails? Why those in particular?"
"I dunno exactly," Harry replied. "I guess I got the idea from Norway, because he and his gang were using that card as a code when they were playing at the pub that night. I didn't really expect to get a reply from the e-mail, you know."
"How do you know they were using the cards as a code?" MacCready asked.
"Because I took a card from each of them and each of them had the same card: the ace of diamonds. And Norway passed that card to each of them. I saw him do it." Harry frowned at the others and said, "You were both there. Didn't you notice?"
"I noticed you getting drunk," Johnny answered. "So I don't see how you noticed anything as subtle as Norway passing them cards, even if you are brilliant at tricks."
"I was playing drunk," Harry responded stiffly.
Johnny looked skeptical and said, "You weren't playing when you virtually passed out in the car afterwards."
"Look," Harry said in exasperation. "Focus on the real problem. Norway was using that card as a code to pass messages to his friends. I took the cards off his friends. Then he broke into my room and searched it, only he got Austin in the act and made it look like he was just searching for drugs, okay? And the same card got us a reply from one of the people who were in the e-mails that were swept by our officers in a real investigation. And we have a date and place where those guys will show up. Don't you think it's a bit too much coincidence? Doesn't that make you think there's something really fishy about Norway?" Harry glared at them. He could see they were still doubtful and he said even more strongly, "It's not just dislike. He's a liar and he manipulated Austin into searching my room."
"How do you know he's a liar?" MacCready asked.
Harry shrugged. "I just do."
"If you're so sure of this," Johnny asked calmly, "why don't you tell Bones or Daniels your suspicions?"
"I haven't got enough proof," Harry answered.
"You could search his room, then," Johnny offered with only a touch of sarcasm.
"I thought of that," Harry said seriously, "but he always leaves it locked and I've a feeling he has some kind of trap set up to catch anyone who tries to enter. And it'd be too obvious that it was I who searched it if he realized."
"You're a bit touched," MacCready said with amusement.
"No, I'm not," Harry, retorted stubbornly. "I know a lie when I see it. I can tell he's an evil berk and not what he seems at all." He wished for a moment that Ron and Hermione and Ginny were having this conversation with him. None of them would say he was touched. They might think it though, he thought with depression, and would certainly try to persuade him to leave off with his plan to go to the museum on Sunday. He gave Johnny and Mac a stern look of the kind that McGonagall was likely to give to the lazy and incompetent and said, "Maybe you'd rather skip the museum on Sunday then. I can go myself if you've got cold feet."
"Cold feet?" Johnny echoed with annoyance. "We do not have cold feet. We're going. It's you that has to stay in."
"Don't worry," Harry said with relief. "I'll finish the job in good time on Sunday. We can still get there by noon if we leave at eleven."
"The meeting's at one," MacCready replied.
"I know," Harry answered. "We need to get there early so we can find the right place and get into a corner where we can see them and they won't notice us."
"If I didn't know better," Johnny said, "I'd think you'd been doing this for a long time."
***
At lunch, Harry waited for Ron to come out of his group and then made sure to snag seats out of earshot of the other recruits. "So," he said quietly, "did your group do practice questioning, too?"
Ron shot him a sidelong glance and said bluntly, "I heard you gave Austin a hard time and you accused Norway of, well, being up to something."
"Austin gave me a hard time first," Harry answered. "And something is wrong with Norway. I tried to tell you that a while ago."
"Yeah," Ron said, "he's a rude son of a skrewt, but that doesn't mean he’s actually doing anything wrong."
"He searched my room," Harry answered, "and he egged Austin on to do it."
"He doesn't like you," Ron said calmly. "You got in his face and called him names and kicked him where it hurts. That doesn't mean he's doing anything wrong." He eyed Harry and hesitated and then hurried on, "You didn't use magic, did you? You didn't, erm, use Legilimency when you were questioning Austin?"
Harry shrugged. "Not really. I could tell Austin wasn't telling the whole story, but I didn't really do anything."
"You did some card trick like a Muggle performer," Ron said pointedly.
"And what's the matter with Muggles?" Harry asked. "We're living with them and working with them and pretending to be them." When Ron frowned, but didn't reply, he asked, "Does it bother you then? Don't you get tired of living like this? Do you wish you were back at Hogwarts or working in the Ministry?"
"We are working for the Ministry," Ron answered.
"You are," Harry replied.
"We all are," Ron insisted.
"So, have you heard from your Dad lately?" Harry asked. "What's going on, anyway?"
"What would be going on?" Ron asked. "Voldemort's dead. We're only here cause the Muggle Minister got so scared that he wanted some wizards available to work for him and he blackmailed Dad into assigning us here."
Harry looked at Ron and he felt, uneasily, that a gulf had opened up between them. They were supposed to be working together, yet they were often separated into other groups. He couldn't help wondering whether that was chance or whether Bones had some reason for it. He felt guilty, too, that he hadn't told his friends about the trip on Sunday. But Ron seemed so unreceptive to his suspicions of Norway that he just couldn't bring himself to tell them. He could practically hear their reactions in his head and while he could bear their skepticism, he couldn't bear their implied anxiety about his health, especially his emotional health. He wanted to say, I'm perfectly fine, thank you, and I'm not touched, thank you, and dying hasn't changed me particularly, thank you. But his thoughts stuck there and he resolutely turned the subject.
"So have you gotten a copy of the Prophet from your Mum?"
"Nah," Ron said. He took an especially large bite of his sandwich and said, "We don't want to risk the Muggles seeing anything." Only as his face was deep into his cup of juice by then, it came out so funny that Harry had to chuckle.
"What?" Ron asked. "I don't see what's funny about that."
Harry said quietly, "Well, I think they'd pretend it wasn't what it was." He grinned and said, "Can you imagine Daniels' face if he could see an article about the goblins at Gringotts or Witch Weekly's instructions on how to charm your cheese?"
"Just be careful," Ron said. "Keep grinning like that and Witch Weekly might nominate you for best smile again."
"Not bloody likely," Harry answered. "Most likely to be the next Dark Lord, maybe," he said with cool irony.
"Don't be a total prat!" Ron replied. But Harry had a feeling that once people started feeling safe again, their gratitude for his defeat of Voldemort would wear off and they'd remember he was a bit odd, maybe mad and ask in whispers whether he'd defeated Voldemort by being an even stronger dark wizard.
***
Harry was just getting up to leave when Hermione and Ginny arrived in the hall. She wondered what he and Ron had been talking about as Ron was clearly trying to conceal his anxiety and Harry was looking overly cool. He smiled at them, however, and didn't notice Ron's surreptitious mouthing at them.
Ginny gave Ron a passing glance and then laid a hand on Harry's arm and said, "I want to talk to you."
Harry tipped his head fractionally in the way that reminded Hermione of when he would transform into the bird, but his smile warmed and he said, "All right," and followed Ginny out.
Ron watched them until they were gone. The anxiety on his face deepened and he said abruptly, "He's getting better, you know. He was asking about Dad and what's in the Daily Prophet. I dunno how much longer we'll be able to keep him from going to The Leaky Cauldron or Diagon Alley or reading the paper and realizing everything."
"That's not good," Hermione responded. "He may be better, but do you think he's strong enough?"
"Who knows?" Ron said. "You know the minute it comes out that he's alive every dark wizard in the country will be after him."
"I don't know," Hermione said slowly. "If you were a dark wizard, would you dare to attack him now? After he killed Voldemort? And if you realized he had survived after all?"
"Let's just hope that's what happens," Ron answered.
"Do you really think...?" Hermione started to say, but Ron cut her off.
"Dad says, well Dumbledore...he's afraid that Harry might have lost a lot of his power as a wizard now that Voldemort died. He thinks, you know, that Harry always had more power than he might have because of Voldemort, because he transferred some of his powers to Harry. And maybe all of that was destroyed when Voldemort died."
Hermione bit her lip and thought.
"Don't tell me you knew that already," Ron said.
"I wondered if that might be the case," she admitted.
"You did not," Ron retorted.
Hermione shook her head and said, "He's done very little magic since he woke up. Almost none really, except for when he fixed the lock on his trunk, and that was just a simple transfiguration and charm."
"I dunno," Ron said again. "I noticed that. But he knows we're not supposed to be doing anything here. You're careful, too."
She gave him a look and decided not to let him know what she had been doing, in view of the fact that Ron wasn't nearly careful enough.
"Have you wondered," Ron said after a moment, "whether it might be just the opposite?"
"What do you mean?" she asked, though she had had the same thought herself.
"Have you wondered whether maybe he now has all of Voldemort's power as well as his own since he survived?" Ron said.
"It's possible," she said. "Have you seen anything that makes you think that's so? Especially since he has done so little?"
"He knows when people lie," Ron said. "Like Voldemort always knew. They had the same practice we did, and you heard he gave Austin a hard time. He said he didn't really use Legilimency, but he still knew Austin hadn't told the whole truth. And he insists he knows that Norway is a liar."
Hermione frowned and said, "You don't have to use Legilimency to have a sense that someone's not entirely truthful."
"No," Ron said. "But he said he knew. Not that he guessed."
Hermione raised her eyebrows and felt a trickle of uneasiness work its way into her mind, a faint cold undercurrent that promised a storm to come. Curiosity was stronger though. "What do you think Norway is lying about then?" she asked. "Maybe," she added, "we should do a little looking into him. Just in case Harry decides he's got to do something about him like he decided to do something about the situation yesterday."
"That's a good idea," Ron said.
"Of course, it is," she said sharply. "Especially since you'll just do whatever he says and won't even question him or try to stop him," she added. "You could have been killed, you know. Both of you."
"It wasn't as bad as you think," he replied. He looked a bit shifty though and his ears were turning red. Under her stern glare, he continued, "I had my wand out and I was going to immobilize the thing to stop it blowing up."
"It's a good thing you didn't," she responded. "That might have made the thing blow up altogether. You don't know what magic might to do a thing like that."
He shrugged and tried to avoid the rest of her lecture. "So what do you think Ginny wanted to talk to him about?"
"She was just distracting him," Hermione answered. "She saw you wanted to talk to me without Harry." She did not add that they were probably not doing much talking at all as she thought it was better if Ron didn't think about what the two of them did do when they were alone.
***
Harry went to bed that night feeling unusually happy. He regretted not letting Ginny heal the rest of his bruises, though, as the ache of them kept him from finding a comfortable position in which to sleep. When he finally did sleep, his dreams were plagued once again by the grenade flying just out of his reach. This time it exploded in the midst of a tall glittering tower of shops. There was a ringing in his ears as there had been after the real one had exploded outside the town hall. Or was it the sound of the baby crying after? The baby, he knew, was locked in the cupboard under the stairs and they had forgot to feed him and make him dry again.
He woke up drenched in sweat and feeling utterly claustropbic. His blankets were ropes binding him; his body was a trap, binding his spirit; and he wanted to be free. The room was dim and silent and he was alone and not even Hedwig was there to cluck at him sleepily and reassure him.
He glanced at the clock and saw it was three in the morning. His first instinct was to throw on his sweater and boots and go for a walk, but he remembered just in time that Daniels would be happy to give him a further punishment or even throw him out if he broke curfew again.
He sat and breathed deeply trying to find the cool dark depths of his mind. Anxiety tightened his chest like a band, and he waded down deep until he had reassured himself that Voldemort was really gone and that he was as solitary in his mind as he was in his room.
Restlessly, he stood and looked out on the dark grounds of the Compound and wished he could be out of there. It came to him then, that he could, if he wished, and no one would know if he simply showed up for class on time in the morning. With that thought, he breathed out and willed himself to change.
In the dark night, his bird's eyes saw below him a rabbit running and the red tip of the guard's cigarette glowing. He soared higher and felt so much exultation as was possible to feel in flight, though filtered through the lesser intensity that came with being the bird. After a while, there was only calm and when he returned to his cage, he did not bother to change back, but perched on the back of his desk chair and tipped his head under his wing to sleep.
