Disclaimer:

I do not own Harry Potter. Even if I got the chance, I wouldn't do so now, especially after the disappointment that was the Half-Blood Prince.

Thanks to Renzo, as always, for betaing.

Chapter Twenty-One

Scent of Treachery

“He is awake,” A high-pitched voice said to Harry, obviously trembling in fear.

“Awake? Very interesting.” Harry said. All he could see was darkness and a silvery, shiny mirror of some sort. It was filled with mist that Harry's eyes could not penetrate, though the voice was clearly coming from within the mirror itself.

“You've done well, my apprentice,” Harry said. “You shall be duly rewarded when you meet me.”

Harry suddenly found himself awake again as someone was trying to shake him out of his dream. He looked up to see Neville trying to wake him up.

“Neville!” Harry exclaimed. He put on his glasses and looked across to the wall-clock on the other side of the ward. It was still early afternoon and the sunlight filtered through the windows lighting the ward with variegated hues and even succeeding to some extent, in lessening the heavy winter chill. It seemed to Harry that the light near the windows was even brighter and he guessed that it was the sunlight getting reflected by the snow. It was now his fourth day in the Hospital wing and had been told earlier that it was the first time the sun had peeked through the snow-laden clouds in the past very many days.

“Harry, are you okay?” Neville asked anxiously and stuttering a lot. “I thought you were having a fit or something. So I woke you up.”

Harry smiled at the question and sat up in his bed. He had been allowed to walk around within the ward, but had tired himself soon. He was getting better by the minute, but he hadn't yet regained his full physical strength. Harry said, “A lot of people have asked me that question in the past few days. I'm fine, just a dream really. Nothing big.” Harry didn't voice his feeling to Neville that it was a vision, not just any regular dream.

“So how come you're not in class at the moment?” Harry asked.

“I'm free for the day now,” Neville said. “Actually, Hermione told me to check on you, since she has Arithmancy at this time. She couldn't come over at lunch since she had a meeting with McGonagall.”

“Honestly, I've told her I'm not a baby who needs looking after,” Harry said rolling his eyes while Neville gave a grin.

“Where is Ron?” Harry asked after a moment of silence.

“He said something about having a headache,” Neville answered. “Ginny's really cross with him. Tells me he's been working the entire Quidditch team like mad, especially with the next match coming up.”

Harry nodded. His absence had resulted in a complete overhaul of the Quidditch Cup schedule. With help from Professor McGonagall, Ron had managed to postpone Gryffindor's first two games. The first game now was to be against Slytherin the next week and the one against Hufflepuff three weeks later. The finale against Ravenclaw was to be held at the normal time on the weekend after the Easter break.

“Harry?” Neville broke in into Harry's ponderings. “Can I ask you something?” Harry nodded.

“What did the prophecy say?” Neville asked again.

Harry was shocked. He hadn't expected Neville to ask this. “I'm afraid I can't answer that, Neville. I don't think you're supposed to know,” he said, saying the thing that came first into his mind.

“Don't tell me what I'm supposed to know or do. I've had a lifetime of that,” Neville spoke indignantly and Harry marvelled at the harsh tone of his voice. “I was there with you when you took the prophecy. I had it in my hands before it slipped and broke in front of my own eyes. You bargained and bought my safety from You-Know-Who during the Hogsmeade attack by using it as an insurance. And still you say that I'm not supposed to know?”

“It's something that only a few people know about,” Harry reasoned. “Voldemort wants it desperately.”

“He'll never hear it from me,” Neville assured Harry.

“Well then, it appears that I must tell you. After all, it concerns you closely also,” Harry began, ignoring the look of surprise on Neville's face.

“It says that the one who has the power to vanquish Voldemort was born nearly fifteen and a half years ago towards the end of July, with his parents having opposed and escaped him thrice. IT says that Voldemort would mark this child as an equal and the child would have power that the Dark Lord does not know of. Either of these two bearers of the prophecy can live while the other survives. One must die at the hand of the other.”

“And who is that child?” Neville asked, holding a breath.

Harry replied, Dumbledore told me that the prophecy could have equally applied to either you or me. Both our parents worked against Voldemort and escaped him on three occasions. However, the attack on my parents' home, their murder and the existence of this scar means that I was the one who was marked.”

“So that means you are the only one who can defeat You-Know-Who?” Neville squeaked, fear palpable in his voice.

“Looks that way,” Harry concurred. “I must either kill him or be killed myself. There is no other path.”

“How did it come to be like this?” Neville asked to no one in particular.

“It was all a choice Voldemort made while choosing one of us,” Harry said. “I guess he saw a mirror of something like himself in me - a half-blood and all that stuff. Well, it is now futile to think over all this. What is done is done! It's my fate now, and my burden. I would not wish this fate upon anyone, least of all on one of my friends. You've got enough on your palette to be going on with.”

“How do you manage to stand up to him, Harry? How?” Neville whispered the question after many moments of internal debate. “I always thought that the Death Eaters were the most dangerous wizards. Every time I see my parents and the state they are in, I get the same thought over and over again. But He…He was different, more terrible than I had ever imagined. WE can fight Death Eaters, we can drive away the pall of dread that the Dementors cast by using a Patronus…But no one could ever harm him…nothing could ever work against him. That was what I felt when I saw him; that is still how I feel. How do you stand up to such evil?”

“Because of the knowledge that I must,” Harry said. “Sometimes fear makes things appear bigger and more frightening than they really are. Try and overcome that fear, and half you battle will be won. For starters, try saying his name. It really helps. As Dumbledore told me once, fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself.”

“I'm sorry you have to suffer this.” Neville said.

“Don't be.” Harry responded. “It's not your fault, not mine, not anyone else's…It's Voldemort's fault. I only wish I'd known all these things that I now know beforehand. That way, I wouldn't have gone into the Ministry last year, nor would I've taken all of you with me. Sirius wouldn't have gone to save us then, and he'd still be alive now.”

“I didn't know Sirius Black was on our side,” Neville said. “I'm sorry you lost him.” Harry nodded. “I mean, at least I know where my parents are, even if they don't recognize me. I can meet them when I want. But you cannot do that.” There was a faraway look in Neville's eyes. It was the first time Harry heard him really talk of his parents. Neville continued, “You know, I sometimes wish that they were dead. I love them and that's why I can't bear to see them in the state they are in - almost as if they are neither living nor dead - almost as if they feel nothing. At least if they die, I'd know that they are free from all bonds. I'd feel sure that they are alive again, that they are free to feel again, even if it is in another world.”

“Can't the Healers do anything?” Harry asked.

“The Healers tried everything in their power,” Neville replied. “Gran told me it was six long years before they gave up. Now, they've even stopped hoping for a miracle.”

“There is always hope,” Harry said. “I've realized that. Yes, I have.”

There was a brief silence in which both the boys lost themselves in their own respective trains of thought. It was Neville who spoke first, “I want to help you, Harry. But I don't know how I can do that.”

“Just try being a friend through all times.” It was not Harry who had replied. It was Professor Dumbledore striding across the length of the ward to where Harry and Neville were seated. His blue eyes were twinkling once again behind his glasses and Harry was sure he could see pride reflected on his face. As he walked, he repeated, “Just try being friends through all times. You'll find it the biggest help. We might have dark times ahead, but camaraderie and friendship can help us survive.”

“Professor Dumbledore!” Neville exclaimed, surprised at the sudden appearance.

“Don't bother with the name, Neville! I know who I am.” He said and coming over, he placed a hand on the young man's shoulder. “I've known your parents for a long time and I for one, am confident that whether they realize it or not, they are very proud of you. And so is your grandmother. After you told her about the Department of Mysteries incident over the summer, she wrote in saying how she felt that her wish of seeing you as an Auror, like your father, is going to come true. But she asked me not to tell you, lest it should make you, shall we say, vain and arrogant…So don't tell her I told you what she told me not to tell you.”

Neville went a little red at the lavish praise heaped on him by the greatest wizard in the world. Harry however paid no heed to this for his mind was enraptured by a similar statement he'd heard someone else close to his heart say, “We're proud of who you've become, Harry. Even if we had the chance to raise you ourselves, we would have wanted you to be exactly like this.”

“Well Harry.” Neville got up and said, in the process, regaining Harry's attention. “I'll get going now. See you later.”

Harry returned the words, “Yeah Neville! Bye!”

Neville walked out of the ward and Harry was left alone with Dumbledore. The old wizard observed, “You've many loyal friends, Harry!”

“I don't know why though,” Harry replied with half a grin. “I don't know what they se in me. Still, I'm not complaining. They are here for me always. Only I don't know what I can give them in return.”

“Friendship is not about giving and taking. That's what you'd call business.” Dumbledore explained. “It is the realization that there are things more important than pure logic. Your friends love you. They stick by you because they want to. They help you in all circumstances because they know the real `you'.”

“I hope so.” Harry said. “I just wish I wasn't so dangerous to be around.”

“You are not dangerous, Harry.” Dumbledore said. “You are perilous, yes, not in the least due to the powers of the White Wizard that you now possess…But that's not different from many other things in the world.”

“Don't remind me of that.” Harry said dully. “I still don't know whether to believe all you said or not. I don't feel any different from inside. I don't feel a change.”

“Then we'll wait till such time when you begin to do that,” Dumbledore said. “For now, (at this, he delved into the pockets of his robe and brought out a wand which Harry immediately recognized) here's your wand. You're free to leave the Hospital Wing and perform magic, if you desire. Only, don't do that magic in the corridors, or Mr Filch will no doubt have some things to say to me.” He gave Harry a twinkle of his eyes. Harry grinned and took his wand. He cast a levitating charm on the neighbouring bed and it rose up in the air.

“Very impressive,” Dumbledore observed smiling. “And one more thing before I go, Harry. I'd very much like you to take up extra lessons in Transfiguration, Occlumency, duelling and everything else that will help you prepare. I had been meaning to ask you ever since the beginning of the year, but you could say that I was waiting for this moment.”

“You knew this would happen?” Harry asked.

“I had a feeling it would,” Dumbledore replied cryptically. “And yes of course, I hoped…Now I must be off. I've to tell Poppy that you are ready now to leave her care. I daresay she'll insist upon giving you another thorough check-up before letting you do that. Might I also add that she has grown rather fond of having you here in her care?” Harry did not dare figure out what the last remark had meant. He saw Dumbledore get up and walk away.

All of a sudden, he asked the old professor the question that was now foremost in his mind, “Sir, is there no hope for Neville's parents?” Dumbledore paused and slowly turned around. Harry could see sorrow being reflected in his eyes.

“What do you think?” Dumbledore asked in return. “What do you feel?”

Harry looked lost at the question and could merely shrug his shoulders. Dumbledore carried on, “I think it is as you told Neville. There is always hope…Miracles do occur in our lives…Every day that we pass on this planet…every bit of joy that we feel…every bit of sorrow…everything is a miracle in its own right. So knowing that miracles do exist, you could always hope for more, couldn't you?”

* * * * *

Harry walked out of the Hospital Wing later that evening accompanied by Hermione. As Professor Dumbledore had predicted, Madam Pomfrey did indeed give Harry another head-to-toe examination before she let him leave.

As they walked, Harry bumped right into…

“Watch out Potter, where you're going,” Draco Malfoy spat. “You wouldn't want me to hex you into a coma for two months again, would you? I'm sure the people who look up to you as their saviour from the Dark Lord would want that to happen now, would they?” Malfoy added the last part with an all-knowing smirk.

Harry was too lost in thought owing to Malfoy's last statement to attempt to retaliate. He stood there thinking even after the Slytherin had passed. Hermione gently touched him on the shoulder. “He knows,” Harry spoke in a barely audible whisper, as if to himself.

“Who, Harry?” Hermione asked. “And what?”

“Malfoy, he knows,” Harry said. “And if he does, then so does…then so does Voldemort…Hermione, we must go see Dumbledore immediately.” Hermione nodded and they set off at once.

Harry reached the gargoyle, which immediately leapt aside on receiving the password. Harry didn't knock but barged in directly. “Does Voldemort know of the prophecy?” Dumbledore looked up at Harry. He had a questioning look on his face.

“Malfoy knows. I'm sure then that Voldemort knows too.” Harry said. Dumbledore nodded. “I'm sure then that we'll get the news soon enough. Why don't both of you sit down and make yourself comfortable. It might prove to be a long wait.”

“Are we waiting for someone?” Harry asked, not bothering to comply to the suggestion.

“Yes,” Dumbledore replied. Harry sank back into a nearby chair.

“Will anybody tell me what is going on here at the moment?” Hermione asked. Harry knew that simply not knowing what was going on must be driving her crazy. He looked towards Dumbledore and hope he'd answer that question.

“I'm afraid you will have to answer it yourself, Harry,” Dumbledore said, “I am as much in the dark as Hermione is.”

Harry began, “I told Neville about the prophecy earlier today. From what Malfoy said to me outside the Hospital wing, I think he overheard us somehow and now knows the prophecy. I've no doubt he would have informed his father first up, and he…”

“And he in turn would have informed Voldemort,” Hermione completed the sentence. “But couldn't Draco be lying…taking a shot in the dark maybe?”

Harry shook his head. “I don't think so,” Harry said. “I felt it in his look, in his demeanour - he knows it for sure.”

“You seem to have assumed that Mr Malfoy is working for Voldemort,” Dumbledore observed.

“Of course, he is,” Harry replied heatedly, “His is a clan of Death Eaters. They are all evil.”

“Don't be childish in your judgement, Harry,” Dumbledore said calmly. “Your hate for Mr Malfoy seems to be clouding your judgement. Feel what you've seen…you'll reach the conclusion soon enough…And I daresay your conclusion then, will be much different from your current conclusion.”

“And what may you have concluded?” Harry asked, not bothering to hide the sarcasm in his voice.

Dumbledore answered, however, as if he'd not felt Harry's implied words, “That Mr Malfoy is not the spy here. This worries me the most, Harry, more than any news I've heard over some time now. I'm sure you are correct in your assumption that Voldemort knows of the prophecy now, but it cannot be through Mr Malfoy. So how does he know? Who is the spy in our midst?”

“You might be ignoring the obvious in letting go of Malfoy, Professor,” Hermione said quietly.

“Think rationally, Hermione,” Dumbledore said. “I daresay that you of all people should know how unlikely the obvious can be. So, I advise both of you for now: Wait.”

“Who are we waiting for?” Harry asked the Headmaster.

“Severus,” Dumbledore replied simply. “He was called away earlier in the evening. Voldemort has summoned his followers. Something is moving.”

“What is Professor Snape doing there?” Hermione asked. Dumbledore didn't reply. Hermione didn't know about Snape's past.

“I asked what Professor Snape is doing with Voldemort,” Hermione repeated her question.

“He's been our spy, hasn't he?” It was Harry who spoke, intently looking at Dumbledore, who was seated serenely behind his desk. Harry did now know where he was getting this information from. It was like someone or something was supplying him with the required information. “He's been our spy for the last sixteen years, and he still is.”

“Yes he is,” Dumbledore said, tiredly withdrawing himself from Harry's gaze. “That's all you can know or all you need to know for now. There is no point in asking me for more information.” The last remark seemed to be meant exclusively for Harry.

“But…” Hermione began. It was apparent that she was in the dark and did not like it at all. It seemed to her that she was witnessing the contest of two wills - of Harry and Professor Dumbledore. Hermione knew that Professor Dumbledore was much more powerful and wiser - not in the least because he was older. But it was strangely apparent that it was Harry who was winning the duel of their wills.

“No Hermione,” Again it was Harry who spoke. Dumbledore was still maintaining an impassive silence. “It's something between Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape. Professor Dumbledore is right. We should not ask him for further information on this.”

“A wise suggestion, Harry,” Professor Dumbledore seemed to agree as the twinkle came back into his eye. “Now Hermione, if you don't mind, could you please call Professor Bickerstaff here?” By the looks of it, it seemed to Harry that Hermione did mind. But it was also apparent that she did not want to say no to Dumbledore either. So, she nodded and giving Harry a curious look, exited the Headmaster's office.

As soon as she went out, Dumbledore said to Harry, “You've much to learn, Harry. You might have won the contest tonight, but your real enemies in the war will be much tougher to break.”

“What are you talking about?” Harry asked, bewildered.

“I'm talking about how you read my thoughts accurately,” Dumbledore said.

“I did what?” Harry exclaimed, not quite believing his ears.

“You read my thoughts regarding Professor Snape,” Dumbledore explained. “It was evidently an involuntary form of Leglimens since you did not realize it yourself. It must be one of the new traits you are beginning to develop. But you'll be required to hone your skills further.”

“I felt Malfoy's emotions today when I met him,” Harry said. “I could feel the anger he feels for me, and the loathing. It was quite similar for Neville. I could almost visualize the questions he had in his mind even before he asked them.”

“Yes, that is a natural progression, the first step towards being a successful Leglimens,” Dumbledore said. “You've begun feeling others' emotions and the intensity of their thoughts. With proper training, you will be able to sift through them and decipher the precise meaning of those thoughts and emotions.”

“Who will train me?” Harry asked.

“I will,” Dumbledore answered without hesitation. He got up and walked around to where Harry was standing. He placed a hand on the young man's shoulder and said sincerely, “I don't know if I've told you this, Harry. Old age seems to weaken the memory somewhat. But I will do all that is there in my power to help you fulfil the prophecy.”

“You've always done that,” Harry responded. “Always.”

“And I don't intend to stop now,” Dumbledore said, smiling. His eyes seemed a little moist.

“So, what do you want to train me in?” Harry asked, after a while.

“Advanced Transfiguration, a bit of duelling and self-defence,” Dumbledore answered. “But most importantly, mind control and wandless wizardry. We'll decide on other things later as and when your abilities manifest themselves. If you are ready, we could start next weekend after your Quidditch match. I daresay Mr Weasley will want to work his Seeker very hard before that.”

Harry nodded. “Why did you call Professor Bickerstaff?” he asked.

“Elijah is a very wise man and a very capable wizard, as I have no doubt you think yourself,” Dumbledore answered. “He's been an integral part of our entire decision making in the Order. I wanted to inform him of Severus' situation.”

“What about Professor McGonagall?” Harry asked. “Have you told her?”

“I'll tell her when the time comes,” Dumbledore answered. Harry didn't argue. He knew Dumbledore always had his reasons.

After a while, Harry spoke, “You know, I get this feeling that you sent Hermione to fetch Professor Bickerstaff because you wanted to talk to me alone.”

“What makes you think that?” Dumbledore asked, his eyes twinkling merrily.

“I told you,” Harry said. “I got this feeling.”

“Well you are correct, to some extent,” he said, “although I did want to talk things over with Elijah as well.”

“Let's try something, Harry,” Dumbledore said. “Why don't you come over here by the window?” Harry did as was asked of him. “Now look out from over here,” Dumbledore said from over his shoulder, his hands motioning towards the dark outside the window. “Can you see anything?”

Harry strained his eyes. He saw nothing. “No,” he shook his head.

“Try concentrating on the thoughts of one person - someone you've met,” Dumbledore suggested. Harry tried; concentrating on the first person who came to his mind - Sirius. As if on cue, Dumbledore said, “That person needs to be alive.” Harry nodded and concentrated on the image of Lupin.

Slowly, he felt his vision get obscured by a certain fuzziness. He concentrated harder, which meant that the mist before his eyes cleared. He could now see a warm room with fire lit in the grate. There was a table near the fire and on it was seated…Lupin. Harry sucked in his breath as he saw how real it looked. He tried to concentrate further…to take a closer look at what the last surviving Marauder was doing, but to no avail. No sooner did he try to do it than the mist began closing in again and his sight of Lupin began slipping from his gaze as if he was trying to hold fine grains of sand in his grip which slipped at a faster rate the more he tried to hold them there. Finally, his eyes perceived the darkness of the night again.

“Good.” Dumbledore said. “May I know who you tried to see?”

“Remus.” Harry said. “Only for a few moments though. It was all blurred and quick. I couldn't understand a thing.”

“Very few can,” Dumbledore said. “It is very difficult, nigh impossible, to maintain a telepathic vision. But even glimpses of what you can see and who you can see can help you immensely in many cases. Now, why don't you try to focus on another person - someone who doesn't quite elicit the same feelings in you as Remus does.”

Harry's thoughts immediately turned to Snape. After all, the Potions master was the reason that he had to endure this wait in the Headmaster's office. He tried concentrating, but to no avail. Snape seemed to have lost himself somewhere beyond the extent of Harry's gaze. Harry realized the futility of his efforts and changed his choice of person.

He concentrated his mind on the snake-like image of Lord Voldemort's face. Nothing happened at the beginning. Then suddenly, Harry found himself getting sucked into a void. His scar started burning like it so rarely had - something like he had experienced that fateful night in the Department of Mysteries when Voldemort had tried to possess him. He was merged in body and soul into the coils of a snake-like creature. Harry almost forgot who he was…what he was…where he was…He had lost all his sense of orientation.

He was under the power of a creature with many coils - twisting, coiling and uncoiling the many folds of its skin. However, this time around, he felt no pain, only a sense of shock at the sudden occurrence. He tried to wrest his mind away from the creature, as he felt himself enclosed by a certain barrier, almost as if he were being somehow trapped. Finally, the grip of those coils loosened, and Harry could feel the fresh air and the life within him…again.

* * * * *

Author's Note:

Well, here it is. The latest chapter. Hope you like it, and thanks for al the previous reviews. I understand that the response to them has been mediocre from my side, but the fact is that I'm in the middle of the busiest period of my life. As to this chapter, it's kinda short and really a bit pointless, but it's just a filler before the pace picks up again in the next chapter. It will be titled `Scent of Treachery'.

Coming to other issues, I daresay that HBP was a big disappointment. I've started a new post-HBP fic on Portkey. It's titled `Harry Potter and the Quest Among the Ruins'. I'd appreciate it if you chanced a glance at it.

Also, thanks to all my readers who've joined my yahoo group. For those of you who haven't and wish to do so, you can click on this link http://groups.yahoo.com/group/mordorianarmy