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Author: Dellaran Story: The Man Who Wasn't There Rating: Young Teens Setting: Pre-OotP Status: Completed Reviews: 0 Words: 11,675
Chapter Five: The Tree of Life Harry was falling. Trees, buildings, faces, near and distant, familiar and strange, swirled past him in a dizzying maelstrom, and the wind roared in his ears. The cry of an owl, the brush of a kiss against his lips - suddenly he was collapsing back into himself, plummeting toward the ground faster and faster - and then the vertigo faded, and Harry realized he had not moved an inch. He was still leaning against the rough bark of the tree, and the first light of a chill morning was filtering gently through leaves that were suddenly autumn-brown. Ginny was no longer standing in front of him. After a moment's puzzlement, Harry realized that this was the same spot in the woods where Lucius Malfoy had held him for the last day and a half. The beatings had come first, the whip descending over and over again as Harry had struggled frantically to free himself from the tree. At every stroke, Malfoy had screamed at Harry, blaming him for the loss of the Dark Lord and babbling incoherently about how Potter blood would revive the Master. Just when he had thought he would pass out from the pain, his tormentor had stopped, and instead had begun unevenly tracing a circle in the dirt around Harry, muttering broken incantations and cackling gleefully to himself. Once the circle was done (although smudged and trodden in several places), Malfoy showed Harry a long silver dagger and a brass ewer, practically dancing around the tree as he babbled about the blessed instruments that would take "Potter's" life at the appointed time and return power to his Master. It had quickly become clear to Harry that Malfoy was quite mad, and probably incapable of carrying out any such ritual even if it were possible, but having one's blood drained by a madman was an unpleasant prospect regardless. Then he had heard the call of an owl, the rustle of wings, a few soft popping noises, and Ginny had stood before him. In the near-darkness, she had looked older, somehow, taller and more self-possessed. His mind had already been reeling at her appearance, but her kiss had stunned him even more, and then she had sent him whirling through... what, exactly?... and back to this same place, but in autumn once again instead of that inexplicable summer warmth. He shook his head, trying in vain to make any sense of it all. Activate your Portkey, she had said, and that at least sounded like a very good idea. He reached for his belt buckle, but stopped suddenly as a black-hooded and -cloaked figure Apparated in front of him with a *pop*. Harry froze. The figure stood motionless in front of him for a moment, equally startled, and then hissed and reached for a wand. "You!" it said, in a low, vaguely familiar masculine voice. "Of all the times and places, Potter..." Harry reached automatically for his own wand, but he already knew it was missing. Bracing himself for a flash of deadly green, he was amazed to hear "Wingardium Leviosa!" and feel himself wafted lightly into the tree to a branch some twenty feet above the ground. "He is coming, Potter, very soon, do you understand me? Do not make a sound, do not so much as breathe, or I will not be able to sa-" The voice stopped suddenly at the sound of another distinct *pop*, and another, and another. The hooded figure gave Harry one last glance, and Harry thought he recognized the sallow face and hooked nose before the man strode off to join the others. Peering out carefully through the brown leaves, Harry saw at least a dozen hooded figures circling the tree, and then heard a low malevolent voice that made his blood run cold. "Ah, my loyal servants, assembled once more at my command. Today, my friends, we will make an end of this war. The Potter boy is gone from Hogwarts, by an agency not our own, and our dear friend Lucius has discovered a means for us to bypass the foolish wards set around the place. We shall ride on a bolt of lightning into their Great Hall, and there we will destroy Dumbledore and all who oppose us. With Potter gone and Dumbledore dead, no one else will dare to raise a hand against us. Let us waste no more time - Lucius, if you please, begin the ritual. You all know your places." At the promptings of one of the hooded figures, all the other Death Eaters formed a circle around the tree in which Harry was hidden, and Voldemort stood at its trunk. Malfoy began walking counterclockwise around the circle, scattering a bluish powder onto the ground and chanting in some unfamiliar language. As he walked, blue flames rose up in a circle where the powder had fallen, surrounding Voldemort, Harry, and the others, leaving only Malfoy outside it. Harry noted that Malfoy sounded much more sane and lucid than the rather pathetic figure that had been holding him, but he did not even dare to tear his attention away long enough to think about the significance of that fact. Malfoy had by now completed his circuit around the living wall that surrounded Voldemort and the tree, and he clapped his hands twice and chanted: "We heed our Master's call We pledge our lives to His defense We lend our strength to His protection We give of our essence in His service Fiat servitorum defensus!" Immediately, Harry felt himself growing weak and light-headed, power draining out of his chest and spiraling down to his enemy below. He tried helplessly to resist, but the drain continued until Malfoy clapped his hands once more. Several of the Death Eaters staggered, and Harry guessed that they had been similarly drained of power. Voldemort, however, stood taller and walked away from the tree and out of Harry's line of sight, but not before Harry noticed the strange gray aura surrounding him, the sum of all the power he had assumed. The circle of Death Eaters moved with him, encircling him, leaving Harry in his tree behind. "Now, my loyal servants, we shall make an end to this war. Lucius, let us be off!" Malfoy's voice rose again, chanting in some language that Harry could not understand. Suddenly, out of the clear morning sky, a lightning bolt leapt to earth. Harry's hair stood up on end at the intensity of the strike, his ears rang at the deafening crack of thunder, and he smelled ozone and scorched leaves. After ten minutes of anxious waiting, hearing no sound but the rustling of the wind and a dull thrumming in his ears, he slipped as silently as possible to another branch that gave him a better view. The clearing was empty. Without warning, blood began pounding in Harry's ears, and a blinding pain burst from his scar. He had to get to Hogwarts, immediately. Voldemort was attacking the school, and all his friends were in dire peril. Suddenly, however, the feeling of power draining from Harry's chest returned, intensified, and finally overwhelmed him, sending him spiraling down into unconsciousness. When he woke, it was night. Silvery moonlight bathed the ground, and an owl hooted in the distance. Harry found himself clutching to a branch, still high up in the tree. For a moment, he simply lay there, the bark rough and cool against his cheek. Something nagged at him, though... somewhere to be... he remembered Ginny's voice, saying something about a Portkey. Ah yes, he had a Portkey. Belt buckle, wasn't it? Clumsily he sat up and balanced himself on the skinny branch. His equilibrium was not up to the task, however, and he felt himself tumbling off the branch. Desperately, he grabbed at his belt buckle and squeezed it tight.
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