Featherlight Taction

I remember when, I remember, I remember when I lost my mind
There was something so pleasant about that place.
Even your emotions have an echo
In so much space

And when you're out there
Without care,
Yeah, I was out of touch
But it wasn't because I didn't know enough
I just knew too much

Does that make me crazy?
Does that make me crazy?
Does that make me crazy?
Probably

And I hope that you are having the time of your life
But think twice, that's my only advice

Come on now, who do you, who do you, who do you, who do you think you are,

Ha ha ha bless your soul
You really think you're in control

Well, I think you're crazy
I think you're crazy
I think you're crazy
Just like me

My heroes had the heart to lose their lives out on a limb
And all I remember is thinking, I wanna be like them
Ever since I was little, ever since I was little it looked like fun
And it's no coincidence I've come
And I can die when I'm done

But maybe I'm crazy
Maybe you're crazy
Maybe we're crazy
Probably

-Gnarls Barkley – Crazy

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Featherlight Taction

Chapter 5- Taction

Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked out of the Room of Requirement only to be nearly run over by panicking students. They were so scared that they didn’t even notice the trio as they ran by, some crying and others yelling.

“Gods,” Ron muttered, still supporting Harry by holding his friend’s arm around his shoulders. “What’s going on? Not another attack I hope,” he swallowed dryly, remembering the last time Death Eaters had come to Hogwarts.

Minerva McGonagall ran around the corner just as he said this. Upon catching sight of them, she let out a sigh of relief and rushed towards them. At seeing Harry’s weak form leaning against the lanky Weasley, she let out a motherly hoot. “What in the world has happened to you?”

Harry opened his mouth to say it was nothing, but she continued to speak as if she’d not even asked him the question. “You three must leave here at once!” She gestured vigorously down the corridor.

“What’s happened Prof-… I mean, Minerva?” Hermione seemed to choke on her former teacher’s first name. It was odd to say her name, but that was an oddness reserved to be thought on another time, as she realized that, though at first glance the Headmistress merely seemed flustered, upon further inspection the old woman was quite terrified.

“Voldemort is here!” Minerva answered breathlessly. “He is out on the grounds as we speak! Potter, take your friends and leave now.”

“How could he have known?!” Harry exclaimed, pulling away from Ron and straightening as if he’d not just been through physical torture moments ago. The tingling had still not left his flesh, but he ignored it. “Are the grounds being watched?”

“Are we being watched?” Ron whispered as he was sickened with the realization that they were, most likely, being watched. It hadn’t occurred to him before, but now that he thought about it, it was completely logical. Of course Voldemort had Death Eaters watching them.

“Has anyone been hurt?” Harry demanded of the Headmistress, a familiar expression of determination gracing his features.

“No, there were some students out on the ground, but he ignored them. He seems to have a specific person in mind,” Minerva said, eyeing Harry severely.

Harry frowned. “Well then I guess I’ll give him what he wants,” he growled, starting towards the entrance of the castle.

“Harry! Don’t be ridiculous!” Hermione latched onto his shirt sleeve tightly. “Don’t go to your death!”

Harry froze for a minute. She was right. He couldn’t just barge out and meet the most dangerous wizard in history. It was reckless, foolish…

You cannot touch me.

The voice mocked him again and Harry’s Gryffindor rage overtook him. Yanking his arm free, he took off in a sprint down the hall. He didn’t want to fight him right now. He just... he had to see him. The man who’d haunted every night of his sleep, who ruled his days, and had become his obsession--his motivation. That man; that horrible, malicious, murderous man; was the reason Harry was who he was today. He drove his every action. All that Harry planned, desired, and worked for was because of Voldemort.

He had to see him. It had been so long since he’d seen the reptilian Lord that he’d almost become a surreal dream; unreal, like an old memory that had dramatized itself over time. Harry had almost forgotten why he was fighting. What he was fighting.

He didn’t quite understand it, but as the feet of his friends slapped the marble floors behind him, he knew that he just had to see. He had to reestablish reality. He had to feel that hate again so that he could keep going. After all, it was hate of Voldemort that drove him—and fear.

He skid to a stop at the huge doors of the entrance. That’s where he remembered himself. He also fought because of love. His love for his friends.

He whirled around to face Ron and Hermione who had just slid to a stop beside him, red-faced and afraid. “I want you two to stay here,” he said authoritatively, hoping that just this once they would listen.

“Quit saying that, mate,” Ron retorted, pulling out his wand.

“It’s never worked before Harry, so stop trying,” Hermione finished, sliding her wand out of her robe’s pocket.

He felt a surge of affection for them, but it was drenched over by the cold dread in his gut and a renewed burning in his scar. They turned to the door.

“Is this it?” Ron inquired, “I thought it’d be a bit more climactic.”

Harry shook his head. “No, Ron. I don’t think this is it. It’s just the beginning.”

The readied themselves and, without another word, pushed open the doors to face whatever was waiting for them outside.

They walked slowly into the entrance courtyard, wands raised and ready to cast spells within moments. It was abandoned, however, and as they eased into the empty courtyard, where no sound but the birds overhead echoed into the stone pillars, they began to doubt the validity of the students’ sighting.

They had reached the end of the courtyard and sighed, daring to lower their wands. “Perhaps they were wrong,” Harry ventured, turning around to face his friends when they did not answer him. “Guys? Hey!”

Ron and Hermione were currently wrestling two gargantuan Death Eaters, whose fat arms were locked in choke-holds around the two teens’ necks. Harry looked around frantically, his wand swinging left and right.

“Looking for me?”

Harry recognized the voice instantly as the warm breath hit his ear and a chill crept down his spine. “Tom,” Harry spat.

“I do wish you wouldn’t call me that,” Voldemort sighed, throwing on a falsely offended look as he rounded Harry and stuck his wand in the young wizard’s face. “It’s rather rude.”

“It’s your name isn’t it?” Harry replied harshly, gritting his teeth as he fought against the urge to fall to his knees. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was petrified.

“Once,” the Dark Lord replied, smirking suddenly. “Do you fear me Harry?” His voice was a cold whisper; taunting.

Harry didn’t reply. Instead, he raised his wand, a spell on his lips.

“Crucio!” Voldemort cried.

Harry reeled, falling to the stone ground and convulsing as excruciating pain wracked every nerve of his body. It stopped as quickly as it had begun.
”That was also very rude,” Tom Riddle snapped, glaring down at Harry’s shivering form.

Harry wanted to reply, but he couldn’t find the ability and he just laid there, spasming in the memory of pain. Voldemort chuckled. “I just drop by to say hello and you attack me,” he quipped. “How very hostile. Do you have a lot of pent up frustration, Harry?”

Harry ignored the Dark Lord’s jeering taunts and he pushed himself to his feet, quivering. He glanced over at his friends. They’d given up fighting against the brutish Death Eaters who held them captive and they watched him with shining eyes of worry and fear. Harry raised his wand again. “What do you want?” he snarled, willing himself to stare unblinkingly into the red eyes before him.

“That’s simple,” the older wizard responded, “I want you to die.” He waved his wand around a bit as if demonstrating. “It’s really quite easy, Harry. Why don’t you just oblige?” The Death Eaters behind him chuckled, but he silenced them with an icy glare. Turning back to Harry, he smiled; a cold, demented, unforgiving smile.

“Kill me then,” Harry uttered boldly. He had no idea where the statement had come from, and he looked down at his wand in shock, as if the length of wood had forced him to speak.

Another mirthless chuckle. “No, I don’t feel like it today. As I said,” Tom placed the tip of his wand against Harry’s lightning scar. “I just came for a quick visit.”

Harry felt a rush of fury and he batted the wand away, ignoring Voldemort’s look of sheer ire as he did so. “You can’t touch me!” He hollered, surprised to find himself echoing the voice of the horcrux.

The dark wizard’s eyes were outraged, but his face remained a stony calm. “Oh, but I can,” he whispered dangerously. Without another second for thought, Tom lunged out and grabbed Harry’s throat violently, shoving him against a stone pillar. “Easily,” he hissed. To his annoyance and confusion, however, Harry seemed to have cared less about the fact that his hand was now wrapped around the boy’s windpipe. Instead, the emerald eyes were staring in shock at his face, as if he’d never seen the Dark Lord before.

“What are you looking at?” Voldemort barked, shaking Harry’s neck a bit to refocus the boy’s attention. It was by that action that Tom himself realized the reason for Potter’s awe. His skin, as it clenched around Harry’s thin throat, was no longer a milky jade. It was a pale tan with a bit of pink flushed throughout it. It was normal.

A wisp of wind fell through the courtyard and Voldemort started as he felt something move atop his head. Hair? He resisted the temptation to reach up and run his fingers through it, and with an unreadable expression and wide eyes, he recoiled, jerking his hand back from Harry as if the boy’s skin was poison.

Immediately he saw his skin fade back to a misty green and no longer did hair rest atop his head. He was the snake-like lord once more. He almost felt like he’d been deprived of something. Anger overtook him. “What magic is this, Potter?” he snarled, raising his wand to threaten the younger wizard.

Harry’s face slowly melted into a dawning understanding as he stood there, staring in the noseless, sallow face that glared daggers at him. As soon as the Dark Lord had grabbed his neck, his features had changed in the flicker of a thought. It had happened so quickly that Harry had to blink a few times before reality set in. No longer had the hairless, reptilian face been in front of him. Harry knew, somehow, that it was still Voldemort who stood before him, but he had changed. And the change was familiar. With a grudging understanding and horror that accompanied it, Harry realized that the face that had surfaced only moments ago on Voldemort’s own skin had been the face of the man in his dreams a few nights before. Normally, this would have explained things, but Harry found that he was only growing more confused by the second.

Voldemort had looked human. But how? It was almost as unfathomable as Harry himself turning green-skinned and noseless. He jerked back to reality when Voldemort snapped at him again. Was that confusion in the man’s voice? Fear?

“What magic was that boy?” Tom bellowed again. “I will kill you now if you do not answer me!”

“I… I don’t know!” Harry shouted back, stammering a bit after his moment of contemplative silence.

“You lie!” Riddle did not move though. Harry almost thought he saw a flicker of indecision pass over the red eyes and he moved slightly, deciding against coming closer to Harry. Was Voldemort afraid to touch him now?

“I’m not lying!” Harry answered, feeling as frustrated as the man in front of him. “I don’t know what happened. You were there same as me. I didn’t cast any spell!”

Voldemort’s face contorted for a second, furious thoughts flying through his mind. What had happened? Had that really been his flesh? The flesh that he would have had if not for his unceremonious defeat 16 years ago?

Tom scowled. He did not understand what interaction had passed between him and Harry, and it would not do to display his confusion in front of his enemy. The boy was a terrible liar, and he had not attempted to use that poor skill in his responses to Voldemort. Harry had no idea what was going on. That much was obvious They were in the same boat.

Refusing to think further on this until he was back within the quiet sanctity of his manor, the Dark Lord opened his mouth to bid the teen farewell. “Until next time, Harry Potter.” With that, he spun around to nod at his followers. And in a swirl of black smoke and surreal tension, the three had disappeared into the afternoon.

Harry’s hand tentatively touched his neck, realizing only now that it was burning. His head throbbed with pain from his scar and he felt ill. His comrades stood there, regarding him silently as the three of them digested what they had just witnessed.

What in the name of Merlin’s shaggy, old beard had just happened?

Harry shook his head as if to clear it. His thoughts were rampant and panicked. Had that been some kind of old, dark magic?

“I think we better get back to the house, mate,” Ron suggested, walking over to Harry and resting a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You look bloody worn out.”

Hermione nodded in agreement and joined them. They linked their arms together and walked back out to the grounds, not even thinking to stop by Hagrid’s before they disapparated back to Grimmauld Place.

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Yeah, it was a bit short, but it kind of had to be that way for the event that took place. Some chapters will be long; others short. I’ve decided on not forcing words to come when they just won’t. Hey, if worse comes to worse, short chapters mean more chapters! Woo! -runs around in circles-

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