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Author: Myth & Legend Story: The Shadows Of Silence Rating: Teens Setting: Pre-HBP Status: Completed Reviews: 4 Words: 113,891
"Shini van nussa mes anima Vermile et angui saviouri du. Demoni et genst monoc occul ave Et oncha tes etorai conpertu" Translation: "I pledge to you my dying soul, Blood and tears are your salvation. All evils now must turn away And face their cruel damnation" "Songs of the Shaman" –Gronston Magragoc. Harry lay in the deep summer sunlight, trying to relax as his mind whirled incessantly. Ron was in a stupor to his right, basking happily as Hermione read through her course books. Ginny was doing the same, although Harry had a sneaking suspicion there was a smaller, more interesting book hidden within the parchment folds of Advanced Transfiguration. He sighed and shifted his weight, causing the younger of the two girls to look up and treat him to a worried frown. ‘You look exhausted.' ‘Huh.' The grunt was meant to prevent Ginny from pursuing the subject, but if she realised that, she didn't care. ‘What's keeping you awake at night?' Dreams about Sirius, fears of Voldemort's mind games, paranoia that there's another body on the roof…Instead he said, ‘Your brother snores.' ‘Don't,' Ron muttered. Harry knew that his friend slept soundly now. He'd been awake for hours at a time and there hadn't been a whimper or a word issued from his slumbering lips. ‘You do know that insomnia can go beyond a psychological disorder and begin having serious effects on your health, don't you?' Hermione asked, not looking up from her book. ‘It can lead to decline in the immune system, failure of internal organs, even death.' ‘Thanks for that Hermione.' ‘I just thought you should know.' ‘Don't be silly,' Ginny said. ‘Harry, you are not dying; you just look a bit rough. When was the last time you had some sleep?' He thought about it, and couldn't remember. He couldn't even begin to pinpoint what day of the week it was. Without sleep, the nights and days just became hours beyond definition. ‘Dunno, before Fudge admitted the Azkaban break.' ‘That was only this morning, Harry.' ‘Oh God, was it?' Ron chuckled quietly and propped himself up on his elbow. ‘Listen mate, you do need to get some sleep. You're still up when I drop off and Mum says you're out of bed every morning at the same time she is. If you don't sort yourself out and something horrid happens, Voldemort'll have you in seconds, and that'll be the end of it. Goodbye life, hello Dark Rule.' Harry shut his eyes again as the four of them lapsed into silence. He didn't know how everyone else managed it. There was a dreadful feeling in the pit of his stomach, a terrible nervousness stemming from the feeling of unfinished business. Azkaban had been broken like a bone china vase. There had been no guards up to the job and now the Death Eaters were united and free. The only slight advantages were that their identities were known, and the Ministry finally believed the truth of the matter. Voldemort was out there. He didn't know the prophecy, but how long was it before he could simply pluck it from Harry's mind? Day after day, the boy tried to do as Snape had told him with some degree of success, but it was still a weak insult in the face of Riddle's strength. ‘Stop thinking that Harry,' Ginny muttered, making him open his eyes. ‘What?' ‘Whatever it is that's making you screw up your face like that. Just forget about it. Put it to one side and think about something else. Like you do with a Patronus.' ‘Harry!' Rolling onto his stomach, he saw Tonks at a full sprint, racing across the dry grass. ‘You need to get inside right now!' ‘Why, what's happened?' ‘Dumbledore needs to speak with you.' As the others got up to follow him Tonks motioned them back. ‘He's insisted on seeing Harry alone.' ‘What's it about?' ‘I really don't know. Just go Harry, he doesn't have much time to spare.' He walked briskly across the bedraggled lawn and into the shade of the house. It took a couple of seconds for his eyes to adjust, but before he saw Dumbledore, he sensed the man's presence. He was seated at the kitchen table, his silver beard streaming down the front of rich blue robes so dark they were almost black, speckled with animated stars. Each little movement the old man made sent a galaxy swirling. Someone had pushed a cup of tea into his gnarled old hands. The mug had a very fat ginger cat on it, and Dumbledore was watching it frolic around with every sign of amusement. Apart from the two of them the kitchen was empty and the silence seemed breathless. Harry stood just inside the doorway until Dumbledore looked at him over the top of his half-moon spectacles. ‘Professor Snape would be horrified to see you lurking in doorways, Harry. It's a very Slytherin trait, and I am sure that my Potions Master would rather bite off his tongue than ever say such praises of you.' He motioned for him to sit down and, despite himself, Harry could feel a faint lopsided grin on his own lips. ‘It seems,' Dumbledore continued, ‘that since your unfortunate dabbling in Professor Snape's Pensieve, his hatred for your family has become utter loathing. However, that is not what I am here to speak to you about; alas, I wish it were so benign.' He tapped his fingers lightly on the mug before taking a sip and smiling at the cat's purr. ‘They are after you Harry.' The statement was so frank that its directness took Harry by surprise. ‘Who are?' ‘The Death Eaters. Voldemort. We have known that, besides regaining his powers, your death was something Voldemort yearned for. Now it seems he is focusing all his energies on finding and destroying you. I have ensured that the Burrow is as safe as I can manage. I would have preferred you to have remained at Privet Drive a while longer, but considering the circumstances, I thought the company of friends would be necessary. Once you return to Hogwarts again your safety, barring any unfortunate incidents, will be assured. It is here that you must be careful.' ‘But Voldemort's not likely to just turn up here, is he?' Harry asked. ‘Not with people watching over me?' ‘I am sure that he sees all who stand by your side as merely a temporary inconvenience Harry. However Voldemort or Death Eaters are not all that demand your continuing vigilance. There are many creatures sworn into the Dark Lord's allegiance.' Harry nodded and bowed his head, feeling his heart sink further. ‘What about you? What are you doing?' ‘I am helping, along with the Order, in every way I can. The task has become easier since the Ministry has admitted Voldemort's return, although Fudge is often less than cooperative.' Dumbledore sighed and set the cup down, looking Harry directly in the eye. ‘I will not lie to you Harry. I think that no matter what we do, no matter what we achieve by means of security and defence, Voldemort will find his way to you.' ‘So why bother trying?' ‘Because that would be giving up, Harry, and you are far too special to all of us for ANY of us to give up protecting you. Do you understand?' Harry pursed his lips then shook his head, feeling a flash of relief as Dumbledore smiled. ‘No, I don't think I do either, not quite yet.' The old man rose to his feet with a certainty that seemed misplaced in his wizened frame. He made as if to leave before his face frowned in thought and he turned back. ‘It has been brought to my attention by caring individuals, in fact by everyone who as set eyes on you, that you are not sleeping well. Is there a single reason?' ‘No Professor, there are several.' ‘Alas, I cannot help with grief Harry, but perhaps I can set your mind at rest about one thing.' He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bottle of what looked like ink. ‘Tonight, before you go to sleep, open this bottle. It is, I am afraid, a less than certain form of shaman magic, but it is all I can offer you that may help to block out Voldemort's insinuations before I have the opportunity to train you further.' ‘What is it?' Harry asked, accepting the bottle and sloshing the fluid inside gently. ‘It's called, in our language, "animated ink". When you open the bottle its contents will latch onto your skin, creating a design and imbuing its enchantments into you. They are protective, but the design is permanent.' ‘Like a tattoo?' Harry asked, his enthusiasm fading. He didn't really want any kind of permanent art on his body. ‘Very much so, and just as painful. It is known to have a burning sensation. The choice is yours as to whether you use it, but the option is there. Goodbye Harry, for now. If anything untoward happens, don't hesitate to contact me.' Harry blinked as the old man vanished; presumably he was the only one who could pass through his own wards. Harry was left sitting alone at the kitchen table. He put the bottle down and pushed it away from him, watching it with vague horror as the ink climbed the glass sides of its prison. He knew that it would be for his safety and peace of mind if he did use the strange pigment, but Mr Weasley's words of warning to Ginny seemed particularly apt. He certainly couldn't see where it kept its brain, yet it was definitely alive. The hens outside cackled and clucked as someone approached the house. Harry reached for his wand automatically, only to relax as Remus staggered though the door and slumped down opposite him. He sat in silence for a second, as though getting his bearings before looking up at Harry with sharp grey eyes. ‘You were right about that body. It was murder, not the wards. We've been trying to find out what it means but are turning up nothing.' He rubbed a hand over his face and gave a grunt of something close to amusement. ‘Moody decided not to tell you, but Harry, you know these people better than anyone. I was thinking – hoping you might have some idea.' Harry reached out to poke the bottle of ink and shrugged. ‘I don't know them, I've just been in their presence more than most people. Voldemort probably killed whoever that was in punishment. Or it could be he's killing those that are too weak.' ‘A survival of the fittest?' ‘Something like that. You can tell from Crabbe and Goyle at Hogwarts that they're not far off of squibs.' He returned the considering look with one of his own. ‘Are you all right Professor? You don't look that well.' ‘I've been busy Harry. Alastor ordered me back here for rest. Not that it comes easy; besides, that's a bit of a case of the pot calling the kettle black, isn't it? You look like you haven't slept for a week. I'm assuming that is why you're in possession of one of those.' He motioned to the pot, a sad smile on his face. ‘Professor Dumbledore left it with me.' ‘James had one.' The small admission about his father made Harry look up in surprise. ‘Why, when?' ‘In the few years between your father leaving Hogwarts and the Dark Lord's… and Voldemort's attack there was nothing that could be done except wait. Voldemort,' Lupin swallowed nervously, ‘tried many ways of attacking your parents other than the directly physical, and mental possession was his best shot. Lily he couldn't touch—she was too strong for that—but James was susceptible, highly so. He became terrified to sleep, and it was only when he used one of those that he was safe from Riddle's tricks. It did him no harm, Harry, and I doubt that you would be in any danger by using it, although I should warn you that you don't get a choice about the design it takes or where it stays.' ‘But what if it's on my face?' ‘It'll be something else to tell people about. Now, Sirius had to do one better. He went and got a Muggle tattoo.' ‘I never saw that.' Harry murmured, smiling gently as Remus' expression dimmed with recollection. ‘I'm not surprised. It was rather rude.' He sighed and shook his head. ‘It's like when we were at school and Sirius and James used to go off together. I felt so left out, and I was stuck with Peter. Now they're doing it again.' ‘Do you- do you think you'll see them again, when you die I mean?' ‘I hope so, Harry. It's too good a friendship just to end at death.' A squeal of delight from the garden made them look up to see Molly Weasley engulfing a new arrival in a massive hug. Her sunhat had fallen off her head and a watering can was abandoned, spilling water on the path. Bill was hugging his mother back just as fiercely, and only just broke free when Ron leapt on him. The rag tag group struggled into the kitchen, allowing Harry to see more clearly the reason for Molly's enthusiasm. Bill Weasley's hair was cut short and close to his head. He didn't look too happy about the fact and kept interrupting his mother. ‘I'm growing it back Mum, I'm growing it back!' ‘Oh but Bill dear…' ‘No mum. If it wasn't for that bloody Muggle trap I wouldn't have had to cut it off in the first place. Besides, it's draughty without it.' Ron muffled a snort of laughter as Hermione began to question Bill on the trap that had so brutally attacked his ponytail. ‘You shouldn't be working there on those wretched tombs anyway,' Molly chastised gently when her son had finished reliving his adventures, ‘you know Dumbledore still needs you.' ‘Yes Mum, and I need money to live on. It doesn't feel right accepting it from my old Headmaster.' ‘He's willing to give it, Bill, and you shouldn't turn away any money, you should know that.' There was a moment of awkward silence that could have become painful if the twins hadn't traipsed up the garden path, grumbling as they went and carrying a Muggle toilet between them. ‘What is that?' Molly demanded, blocking the doorway into her kitchen. ‘It's a loo Mum.' ‘Yes, I can see that! I meant what are you two doing with it?' ‘We had a bit of an accident at the shop today.' Fred confessed, looking guilty. ‘Well it wasn't really our fault, we did tell Lee that those Appliance Applicator tablets were still very much in testing phase.' George added. ‘Are you telling me that that's Lee Jordan?' Ron asked, howling with laughter as the twins admitted it, pointing out how the toilet seat cover was hairy and a very similar texture to Lee's dreadlocks. ‘We just have to get him upstairs and sort him out…' ‘Which would be a lot easier if we could Apparate into the house; however, someone felt it necessary to put up all those bloody barrier spells around the house. I just can't imagine why!' Fred rolled his eyes and winked at Harry before hefting his porcelain load and staggering towards the stairs, twin in tow. ‘Has everything been all right?' Bill asked, an anxious smile sneaking onto his lips. ‘I mean, apart from the body on the roof.' ‘It hasn't been too terrible,' Molly said, smiling indulgently. ‘There have been so many people around that there hasn't really been time to worry or anything. Not that you're any trouble to look after Remus, none of you are!' Molly hastened to add as she handed Lupin a steaming mug of tea. ‘It's wonderful, always having someone to talk to, although you do have to watch out for that Nymphadora. Where is she by the way?' ‘She had to go and take Professor Lupin's place while he gets some rest,' Hermione informed Molly. ‘She said not to worry about anyone, and that they all miss your cooking.' ‘Oh the dears, perhaps I should make them packed lunches?' Bill leant against the counter, fiddling restlessly with the fruit that was piled in a bowl on the surface, before lifting the lid to a pot of spice and letting it drop back quietly. ‘Is something the matter dear?' Molly asked For a moment it seemed that Bill would deny it, but with a sigh he admitted, ‘I saw Percy in Diagon Alley,' Harry could see from the expression of pain across the oldest Weasley's face that he hadn't wanted to mention it. ‘Oh. Did he say anything?' Molly asked, feigning indifference. ‘Nothing I'd mention in polite company. He's still going on at Harry.' ‘What about me?' Molly looked uncertain, and for a moment Harry thought she might dismiss it, but instead she sighed and said, ‘He's my son I know, but I'm not blind to his arrogance.' ‘Basically, Harry, he's been banging on about how it's unsafe to live with you and he wouldn't come near you with a barge pole,' Ron said bluntly. ‘Which, if you use a Big Head Boy translation spell, means he can't bear to admit he's wrong.' ‘There is some basis to his idea though,' Hermione admitted, almost physically cringing as every eye in the room fixed on her. ‘I mean, no offence Harry, but it is more dangerous being around you than, I don't know, Fred - no, George. All right neither of them. Lavender.' ‘You hang around Lavender too long you're at risk from being taken over by hair gunge and clunky jewellery,' Harry pointed out, feeling gratified when Ron nodded in fierce agreement. ‘Harry, you're not the threat,' Remus stated, his voice calm as he tried to explain. ‘I think what Hermione's trying to say, in a rather ineloquent and poorly planned way, is that you are special, and it's that uniqueness that has highlighted you as a threat to Voldemort. It's because of him that you are in danger, and it is probably Percy's own fear that prevents him from coming home to his family. I don't think it would matter if you were here or not. He wouldn't come home.' ‘He's a fool,' Molly whispered, her tears barely suppressed, ‘an absolute idiot.' She took in a deep, steadying breath and smiled through her unhappiness. ‘Moping around won't get us anywhere. Harry dear, if you're going to use that,' she motioned to the pot of ink, ‘I'd rather you did it soon, before Fred and George get their hands on it. I suppose Lee is staying for dinner?' The afternoon slipped away like a handful of sand. They ate dinner in the garden, the faithful trestle tables seating them all comfortably. Arthur Weasley came home halfway through, dishevelled but smiling. He sat at the head of the table and wolfed down his dinner as his wife handed around desserts to everyone else. Harry was relaxed and content. Molly had let them drink some wine with the meal and it sat warm in his stomach. Ron was teasing Hermione good naturedly, and Harry couldn't help but notice the gentle flush in her cheeks. Her eyes were completely focussed on Ron, as though the rest of the world didn't exist and couldn't intrude. It was Ginny, however, that held the majority of Harry's attention. She fluttered from one conversation to another, eager to be a part of it all and certain to leave no one out. In the rare moments she was silent and not listening to what someone else was saying, she would glance across at him with a friendly smile, and he'd realise once again that he was staring at her and would feel a blush sweep up his face as he looked away. It had been hard to ignore Ron at times. For reasons Harry couldn't fathom, the youngest Weasley son had got the idea that Harry was the right bloke for Ginny wedged firmly into his thick skull. His hints were heavy handed and completely indiscreet, just like Ron himself. He had told Harry with all confidence, and in a very smug tone of voice, that Ginny had been joking about going out with Dean. Harry had asked why that mattered and his friend had given a groan of utter despair. ‘Never mind Harry. Just forget it.' He'd fallen asleep after that, and Harry hadn't forgotten about it since. If he did have feelings for Ginny, which he thoroughly doubted, then he certainly wasn't ready to admit their existence. As for acting on them…! Then there was Ron, who seemed so desperate that he was practically pushing them up the aisle! ‘You'll get wrinkles.' Ginny whispered across the table at him, then swore and glared at her sleeve. ‘For goodness sake, who keeps leaving the lid off the butter dish? It doesn't come out of cotton you know!' She glared around the table at her brothers, who ignored her. ‘Stupid louts.' She smiled at him gently, a laugh lilting her voice as she said, ‘I know you've seen me do that before. I saw you trying not to laugh. You did a good job.' For a second Harry didn't know what to say, so he sipped his wine and simply smiled. ‘So Mr Potter,' she said with false formality. ‘What exactly is it that's making you scowl in such a horrible manner? You make me feel uncomfortable. Maybe I should make Ron sit opposite you instead.' ‘No, please don't!' He'd injected a bit more dread into that little sentence than he'd meant to, but it made Ginny chuckle. ‘I wasn't frowning at anything really. Just at life in general.' ‘Hmmm. Well I think that life in general, with any luck, won't turn out to be as bad as you think it will. Besides if you got some sleep…' Ginny trailed off and shook her head, causing a few strands of hair to fall loose and tickle her face. ‘You're sick of hearing that aren't you? It'll get better Harry, one day.' ‘I'll hold you to that promise.' ‘Hey Harry,' Fred shouted down the table, disturbing Ron and Hermione from their tête-à-tête, ‘Are you going to eat that pudding?' ‘Yes, keep your hands off! How are you feeling, Lee?' ‘Flushed,' the older boy grumbled, sending the twins into fresh bouts of laughter. ‘I'm telling you, that's the last time I‘m coming into your place. You're maniacs, the pair of you.' Evening faded to night and the dishes were cleared. Magical candles burned ceaselessly here and there, hanging from trees and propped on stones. It was a true end to an honest summer's day, and as Harry leant his head back he found himself picking out the constellations hewn within the diamond stars. Orion fought his eternal battle with Taurus the bull and the Rigel system gleamed off to the right, but Harry's eyes were trained on one small cluster of stars to the left: Sirius. He could feel himself drifting off as he watched the sky, lulled by alcohol and exhaustion. Voices sounded far away and words seemed unintelligible. The laughter was a comforting musical sound, something he equated with a happy home. The Burrow was always full of laughter, even in the direst of times. He could feel the warmth of the bonfire on his skin and smell the acrid, sweet smoke. The cauldron seethed, its contents unseen as it hissed and bubbled. There was a warm wind brushing across his face, a zephyr that, in a split second, became the gentle touch of feminine fingers. For a moment he thought of Ginny until the nails became claws and scratched at his cheek. There were words beyond the edge of his hearing and his gaze travelled downwards, away from the galaxy above and to the landscape ahead and the woman before him. Bellatrix Lestrange. She was kneeling in front of him, holding bloodied palms up towards him as though in supplication… ‘Harry.' A hand touched his shoulder and the scene faded. He was still looking at the sky, but Ron's head was obscuring the view. Not that it mattered, he could pick out just about every constellation in Ron's freckles anyway. ‘Come on mate, we're off to bed.' ‘Are you all right?' Hermione asked, ‘You looked like you were somewhere else entirely.' ‘No, I'm fine, just daydreaming is all.' ‘Are you going to use that ink stuff?' ‘Yes.' His answer was so definite that his two best friends looked at him with open curiosity. ‘What made you make up your mind?' ‘I need the sleep, and maybe Percy is right at times. I don't want to put you lot in even more danger by giving Voldemort any chances. It's just a tattoo, right?' Hermione nodded her confirmation, ‘Of course, and normally I'd be completely against it, but I suppose it's medicinal.' ‘Do you want us to stay with you while you do it?' Ron asked, his eyes hopeful. ‘You can if you want, but you don't have to.' Hermione smiled and excused herself to bed, following in Ginny's footsteps. She urged Harry to call for her if anything went wrong before she bade them goodnight. Continuing up to Ron's room the two boys stood for a moment, eyeing the pot where it sat on the bedside table. ‘You sure about this?' ‘Yes. Sort of.' Gulping in a breath of air, Harry seized the glass jar and pulled the lid off. For a moment nothing happened, then the ink leapt out of the jar and onto the back of his hand, flowing up his arm and over his shoulder. Ron had jumped backwards and watched wide-eyed. Harry was biting his bottom lip to keep from crying out. The fluid burnt the skin where it touched and now a scalding sensation was shooting up and down his spine. ‘Are you going to be all right? Look mate, you probably ought to take off your t-shirt.' ‘It hurts to move my arms.' ‘Oh come on Harry…' With a great struggle he managed to ease his shirt over his back. The cool night air brushed against his skin, raising goose pimples and increasing the burning sensation. ‘Bloody hell!' Ron exclaimed. ‘It's massive, it goes all down your back!' ‘It hurts!' Harry repeated, knowing he sounded like a wimp. ‘What's it of?' ‘Can't see yet. It'll probably take all night to come through. Look, why don't you at least try and sleep? The magic's probably instantaneous.' Ron turned away before adding, ‘Oh, and Harry? If your skin starts to fall off or anything, wake me up.' ‘Like I'd let you stay asleep.' The sheets scratched at his back, so he lay on his front after removing his glasses. He could feel his skin beginning to radiate heat and he began to wonder if Dumbledore could be wrong about the Shaman's magic. He shut his eyes and tried to forget about it, tried to forget about everything. It was surprisingly easy. Sleep overcame him in seconds, and Harry was blissfully unaware that out there, somewhere, Voldemort had claimed another life.
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