What Must Be Done

A/N: Well it seems I am confusing people…sorry about that. I DO have direction with this fic, in fact the directional part comes up pretty soon. The reason it skips around so much is because….well…um…hmm….I don’t really have a good answer for that. Again sorry if it’s confusing you and hopefully the next few chapters will begin to clear things up…. a bit.


Chapter 5: Scrying

Harry eyed the mass of dark object he had stolen. Stolen because most of them cost as much as was in his vault. It hadn’t been hard to steal them. Simple really. You just had to know how to distract a person. Fire was a very useful distraction.

Harry glanced at his digital clock. He had already firecalled Blaise. He had written his letter to Elly. He had the rest of the night to work. No interruptions. Gathering his composure Harry began.

First was the mirror of Dalanoth. A small square of dark reflective glass. He placed it in front of himself then reached for the crystals. One at each corner of the mirror. Next came the Dragon‘s blood. Three drops then reach for the dagger of Danimoth, a thin cut and three drops of his own blood.

And now the incantation. Soft and sure. Making each word count. Six more drops of blood. Three of his own crimson, three of the Dragon’s black.

Harry held his breath as he waited for the desired reaction. Nothing seemed to happen. Harry was about to yell his frustration when he saw it. The blood. The mirror was soaking in the blood. With a sigh of relief Harry reached for the last two items. One was a focus, a guide to help him find his target. The second was unicorn horn. Whole, it held great power. And now he would darken that power with his spell.

Harry took one last gulp of air, bracing himself. He placed the tip of the unicorn horn against his forehead…and pushed. Wincing in pain as the impossibly sharp point bit into his skin Harry ground his teeth against the pain.

When he could feel the blood beginning to trickle down his face he removed the horn and placed the tip against the mirror. Clutching the focus, the item that would guide the spell to his target, in his left hand Harry pushed the unicorn horn downwards with his right. The final words of the spell left his lips like a weight, echoing through the room with unbridled power.

The horn sunk into the mirror as though it were water. And now the horn was gone and his hand was sinking into the glass. Further he fell. He couldn’t fit through that small square but it didn’t matter. This was no longer real. A test.

Harry fell into the dark glass. Black filled his mind. His eyes. He was blind. The silence rang in his ears with a definite absolution. He was def. He could not call out, it was the test. He was mute. He felt the darkness filter into his nose as he tried to breath. It filled his lungs. Drifting into his blood, pumping into his heart. And it was so very cold. Colder than ice. Colder than being alone. And he must endure. This was his test. He must endure.

Harry shut his eyes, though it made no difference within this black. He let his ears rest, let the silence fill him with peace. It was not often that he allowed quite, even if it was one so absolute as to drive him mad. He made his fingers loosen from their tight fists. Relaxed his muscles. He quit fighting to breath. Letting the darkness fill him without fight. And the moment stretched. An eternity of waiting.

He felt heat warm his fingertips. Then his arms. His blood began to move once more. His lungs to breath. Air was such a sweet bliss. The sound of wind rushing past brought his eyes open and Harry could feel his mouth drop in his shock.

It felt like flying. And he was far to high up to not be. But there was no broom. There wasn’t anything beneath him but air. And still he was aloft. Swallowing his fear Harry focused his watering eyes on the ground beneath him.

He blinked. Once, twice. Was that ground? It was dark and speckled with colorful lights. With sudden trepidation Harry glanced above him, certain the he was upside down and that he would see the ground above him. But there was nothing there. Black. No stars or moon. Just black. It was a terrifying sight.

Harry quickly looked back to the ‘ground’. The lights were moving. And it only took Harry a few dozen moments to discern just what it was he was seeing. They were people. And they were so many different colors. Red, green, blue, silver, white, yellow, orange, purple…it went on and on. How was he to find the right one? And when was he supposed to stop when he was moving so damned fast?

As it turned out he had no idea how long it took him to stop moving but it felt near a half hour. And it wasn’t a slow stop either. It was a dead on halt. One moment he was flying faster that his firebolt would ever go and the next he was suspended dead in the air. Harry swallowed hard, trying to get his stomach to settle back into its proper place.

He blinked a couple of times before his eyes would focus on the ‘ground’. There had to be a reason he had stopped here. He scanned the ground beneath him. There were few lights down there. Only three. One was a dark crimson, almost black. The other was a navy blue. And the last was a pale aqua.

Harry scowled. What use was this if he had no idea where he was? As though in answer to his question the darkness began to fade. It was as though a fog were dissipating as earthly features became visible. He was hovering over a manor. But not Malfoy Manor as he had feared. Harry squinted down at the large building, trying to take in as much detail as possible.

And the little things too. Like the road that wound up to its side but never came fully to the gate. The pond to the left. The three trees to the right. The single spire off in the distance thet was to blurry to make out properly. The seventeen windows on the upper floor and twenty one on the lower. A cellar hatch there. And a wooden door there.

Harry was almost finished with his careful scrutiny when he felt a tugging at his shoulder. Scowling he tried to ignore it, focusing instead on how the Crimson light was moving around in one of the upper story bedrooms.

There was another tug at his shoulder and Harry’s scowl deepened. He was busy! The crimson light was nearing a window. Harry strained to see who it was. The tugging at his shoulder was getting more insistent.

Harry reached up to swat the annoyance away just as the crimson light reached the window. Lord Voldemort’s bright scarlet eyes tore through Harry’s head as his hand caught on something and he fell backwards.

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Emerald eyes fluttered open. A groan escaped Harry’s throat. As he fought to sit upright. There was a roaring in his ears.

“Good you’re awake,” a gentle voice whispered near Harry’s ear.

The whisperer moved so Harry could see him. Blaise was glaring with all the force his gentle eyes could muster. Harry braced himself for the inevitable. He just wished his head would stop pounding.

“YOU BLOODY DAMNED FOOL!” Blaise yelled at him. “I TOLD YOU TO WAIT! YOU DAMNED STUPID IDIOT! YOU COULD BE BLIND! OR MUTE! OR DEF! OR…”

“He will be def if you continue screaming,” Pansy’s amused voice broke in.

Blaise scowled at her before turning away to glare out the window.

“He’s just worried about you,” Pansy whispered in Harry’s ear.

“Why’re you here?” Harry asked, stumbling over his words.

Pansy frowned down at him. She raised a hand and asked, “How many fingers?”

“Um…” Harry squinted against the blinding light of the light bulb above their heads and tried to see the wavering form of the fingers. “Three?”

Pansy nodded, though her face still showed concern. “Blaise was worried about you. Actually he was scared you were angry at him.”

Harry frowned. Trying to figure out how that would make them be here. At the Duresleys. In his room.

“He wanted to talk to you some more but the ten minute limit made it kind of hard. So when you ended the firecall he found me and started in with the puppy dog eyes. Begged me to let him come see you. Good thing he’s so adorable,” Pansy sighed with a glance at her boyfriend’s stiff back. “I gave in. We got here to find you in a trance over that mirror. Blaise freaked out. You are quite the idiot sometimes Harry,” Pansy finished with a shake of her head.

“Uh…yeah,” Harry agreed absently as he tried to stand up. His legs felt like overcooked noodles but that didn’t matter. He needed to figure out where that house had been.

“Well,” Blaise suddenly demanded, startling the struggling Harry.

“What” Harry asked, obviously bewildered.

“Did you’re idiot frolic into the darkest, most UNRELIABLE, and physically hazardous form of scrying bring any leads?” Blaise demanded.

Harry sighed heavily, trying to get more air into his deprived lungs and nodded. Then realized that Blaise couldn’t have seen him since he was still staring moodily out the window. “Yes.”

Blaise whirled on his heel to stare at Harry. “What?”

“I said yes,” Harry drawled as he used his dresser to brace himself upright. He heard Pansy sigh behind him. The poor girl. Harry couldn’t imagine having to deal with this fool every day…then again. He was quite the fool himself wasn’t he?

“You found him?” Blaise said in disbelief.

“I think so…if I can just figure out where the hell that was,” Harry grumbled, half to himself.

“Tell us what happened,” Pansy instructed as she lifted his hand from the dresser and slung his arm over her shoulder. She gently guided him to his bed and helped him prop himself up against his pillow and the wall.

When he was sure he wouldn’t pass out Harry began a recount of his spell.

The two Slytherins watched him closely as he explained about the lights and described, in excruciating detail, the Manor he had seen.

When he was done Pansy slowly nodded her head and said, “I can look for a Manor matching the description you gave me. It might take a while though. Think you can wait?” her wry smile told Harry she was joking but he still nodded his head.

“I will tie you to the bed if you try a stunt like this again,” Pansy said abruptly, her tone strong.

Harry groaned. She was completely serious. It was almost frightening how protective these two could get. Pansy might be nice if you were injured, as she wouldn’t scream at you when you had such a bloody damned headache, but once she was sure you weren’t dying the threats would flow. And she could back up every word.

Blaise smirked at Harry. His gaze knowing. No one crossed Pansy once she had made her command clear. It was suicide. And no one knew that better than Blaise.
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