Chapter 6

Bird of Prey

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Harry dropped his trunks in the middle of the Gryffindor common room and looked cheerlessly around. The room appeared unchanged from the previous year, but it felt somehow different without the usual bustle of other students going about their days.

Ron and Hermione had said their goodbyes in the Great Hall only minutes before, and Harry was almost relieved that they'd finally gone. It wasn't that he didn't want to be with them; if he'd had his choice, he would have spent the rest of the summer cleaning at Number 12, Grimmauld Place if it meant he could be with his friends. No, it was more that he was tired of trying to be good company when he simply didn't have the energy to put on a show. Alone, he was free sulk without disappointing anyone.

Suddenly, Harry was startled by a high pitched cry from behind, and he whirled around so fast he nearly fell over. Standing in front of him, wringing his hands in excitement was Dobby the house elf. On each foot, he wore a different sock; today, one in florescent stripes and the other with animated owls and stars in the night sky. He wore a mixture of mismatched garments he'd collected over time and three lumpy, barely recognizable hats which Hermione had knitted the previous year.

"Mr. Harry Potter, sir!" He cried, darting forward to grab Harry's bags. "Harry Potter should not be lifting such heavy things, sir. That is what Dobby is here to do, sir!"

"Hello, Dobby." Harry replied, attempting to look cheered.

"How is being your holiday, sir?" Dobby asked brightly, levitating the suitcases and following them up the stairs.

"Can't complain," Harry said dismissively as he trailed after Dobby, feeling he'd rather not discuss the events of his dreadful summer. "How was yours?"

"Harry Potter is always being so courteous," Dobby said admirably as he guided the trunks into the dormitory room. "Dobby has had a wonderful summer, but not much to do without students in the castle!"

"How's Winky?" Harry asked blandly, remembering her condition prior to the end of term and the reason she'd been so miserable.

"Oh," said Dobby, his ears drooping slightly. "She don't talk to Dobby no more, sir, but Dobby keeps an eye on her. Dobby knows she is being depressed, and not very happy since she stopped drinking."

"Well, there's a bright side." Harry said, pulling back the crimson curtains on one of the four-post beds and sitting himself on it.

"The welcome feast is in six days time." Dobby pointed out, waving his hand to put Harry's things away. "Harry Potter is excited to see his friends?"

"Oh, yeah," Harry replied sarcastically. "It'll be great."

Dobby seemed to pick-up on his insincerity.

"Why is Harry Potter being sad?" Dobby asked, lifting himself up onto the bed next to Harry. "His friends not being friendly?"

"Not that, Dobby." Harry answered sullenly. He paused for a minute, and then elaborated. "Just, every year something happens, and every year, I end up miserable at one time or another…"

Dobby reached up and patted Harry on the shoulder. "Cheer up, sir! Things will be better, Harry Potter is a hero!"

"Yeah," Harry said darkly, "people keep saying that."

xxx

Down in the torch-lit dungeons, Dumbledore knocked for the second time on the Potions Master's door, intent on speaking with him. He waited a brief moment for a reply, but received none; he cautiously pushed the stone door open and stepped inside.

Severus was standing with his back to the door, leaning over a cauldron and adding ingredients with focused precision. He gave no indication that he had noticed the headmaster.

"Severus?" Dumbledore said quietly, stepping forward.

Severus' shoulder slumped slightly in exasperation, then tensed again. "Yes?" he growled irritably.

Dumbledore took a deep breath and reminded himself of the reason for Severus' bad mood. "Harry has just arrived."

"Oh joy, I must run up and greet him," Severus replied flatly.

"I wondered when you might be willing to restart Occlumency lessons with him," Dumbledore said, ignoring Severus' sarcasm.

"Albus, I will never be willing to do anything short of murdering that boy," Severus said, now filling the vials with his perfected potion.

"Severus, don't be difficult," Dumbledore said, stepping around the table for a face-to-face conversation.

"I'm not being difficult, Albus, I'm being truthful," Severus retorted, now corking each of the equally filled bottles.

"Is today too soon?" asked Dumbledore as Severus took a sip of the tea he had sitting on his desk.

Severus nearly choked on his lemon-flavored liquid. "Today?" He exclaimed. Then regaining his composure, he said irritably, "Yes, today is too soon."

As if he wanted to risk the boy seeing what he'd learned the previous night. Honestly, one would think that someone as "insightful" as Dumbledore would recognize that all he wanted was to be left alone.

"Well, tomorrow then?" Dumbledore persisted. "I wouldn't even ask if it weren't for the urgency of the situation. I read your report, and you must agree that no cautionary measures can be put off."

Severus hesitated. He hadn't thought of the report he'd delivered just a day ago, preferring to write it rather than having to stare into Dumbledore's knowing eyes one moment longer than necessary.

"Fine, headmaster," He finally said. "Tomorrow. Tell the boy to be here at five o' clock in the evening, and not to be late."

"Thank you, Severus," Dumbledore said sincerely.

And he went on his way.

Severus watched him go, his face set in a dark stare. He was mortally exhausted, he hadn't slept since the previous night, and it was already one o' clock in the afternoon. All he'd been able to do was work on his potions; his mind was too busy to allow himself to sleep.

It was though a scratched record with his least favorite song was planted in his head- how could I have done this? How can I even live with myself? The same questions were mentally repeating themselves over and over again- and he was doomed to listen to the same track for the rest of his life.

xxx

Harry sat on the common room couch, working on the Potions essay he'd been putting off all summer. Working, however, seemed to be a relative term; no matter how hard he tried to concentrate on the properties of herbal plants in healing solutions, it just couldn't hold his interest. He was considering giving it up for a visit to Hagrid's when he heard the portrait hole open and close. He looked around to see Dumbledore standing just inside the door, smiling merrily at him.

"Good afternoon, Harry!" Dumbledore said, settling into the chair sitting across from Harry. "Working on your homework, I see. Are you quite settled in?"

"Yes, Dobby came and helped me. Or, did it for me, I should say."

"Yes, I do seem to recall he has been awaiting your arrival," Dumbledore responded with an appreciative smile.

Harry nodded, then asked tentatively, "Professor Dumbledore, I was wondering- why did you want me to return to school early?"

"Well, that is why I came to see you," said the Headmaster. "I wanted to be honest with you, Harry, that Draco Malfoy's warning to you this summer is something to be taken very seriously. Professor Snape believes- and I agree with him- that Voldemort wanted to take advantage of your more predictable schedule of movements as the start of term approached. London is being watched very carefully, and travelling between Grimmauld Place and the Burrow is now a risk that we shouldn't be taking. Furthermore, knowing exactly where you would be on September 1st- on the Hogwarts express- it is, quite simply, safer that you remain at Hogwarts for now."

"I see," Harry said dejectedly. "Is Hagrid-?"

"I'm afraid I've sent him on some business at the moment, Harry. I'm sorry, I know he would have liked to spend the time with you."

Harry looked crestfallen, but he nodded. "I thought as much when I didn't see lights on in his cabin last night."

"Indeed. I am hoping he will arrive before the start of the welcome feast. Now," he said in a much more formal manner, standing up to break eye contact, "I've spoken with Professor Snape, and he is willing to resume Occlumency lessons this week. Will tomorrow at five o' clock be alright?"

To Dumbledore's great surprise, Harry did not react. His face fell slightly, but it was as if he had been expecting this.

"I suppose I don't have much of a choice," said Harry quietly, going back to his essay.

Dumbledore was halfway to the door, but he stopped to consider Harry for a moment. Finally, he asked, "Harry, how are you doing?"

"I'm fine, thanks." Harry replied stiffly, applying quill to parchment with far more fervor than was necessary.

"Is there anything I can do? Any questions you have... any thoughts that may have come up over the summer?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know," he mumbled irritably.

"I know things are still going to be difficult for you for awhile," Dumbledore said. "But just try to remember that you are surrounded by people who love and care for you. You're not alone, Harry. Don't seclude yourself from everyone who makes an attempt to help you; that never got anyone very far."

Harry didn't say anything. He didn't even look up. After a few minutes, Dumbledore came and patted him on the shoulder.

"Well, I shall leave you to your thoughts," he said quietly. "Please do not hesitate to visit my office if you need anything, or if you decide you'd like to talk." With that, Dumbledore turned and left, leaving Harry alone in the common room.

Harry tried with all his might to focus his attention on his Potion's essay, but it was no use. He couldn't suppress all of the emotions he was feeling right now. Anger at Dumbledore, grief for Sirius, and dread of having to start Occlumency again the next day.

How dare the headmaster waltz in here like none of the trust he'd built up over the years with Harry had been broken? How dare he act as though it was just another day- as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened last year? He'd lied to Harry, in every way. He'd omitted everything that didn't go accordingly with his plan for the boy, he'd avoided Harry's questions, and misguided him with many of his answers. And now he was demanding that Harry resume the worthless ordeals that were Occlumency lessons with Professor Snape.

The quill in Harry's hand snapped in half, catching Harry's attention as he looked down irritably at the frail writing utensil. Harry sighed and threw it to the side, running his hands through his already messy hair.

"I need a walk," said Harry to himself, rising from the couch.

He went upstairs to pull on a hooded sweatshirt, and then made his way out into the hallway. Harry decided that if there was one good thing about the impending start of term, it was that would have someone to be with him. With even Hagrid missing, Harry felt more isolated than he had all summer.

Thinking that he didn't want to stay inside this empty castle any longer, Harry considered a walk on the grounds. He didn't think, however, that after his conversation with Dumbledore about his safety that he should risk a walk anywhere near the forbidden forest. After some deliberation, he headed for the astronomy tower.

After climbing stairs for what seemed like an eternity, Harry finally arrived at the top of the tower, and he climbed out onto the high platform. It was truly an amazing sight, the grounds around Hogwarts from up here. He wondered if there was a more beautiful place on earth; around him, he could see the lake glittering like crystal in the sunlight, the tall trees of the forbidden forest, and the rocky tops of the surrounding mountains.

Harry sank down to the floor, and sat there while the sun slowly sank behind the mountains.

Harry hated to wallow in self-pity, but admittedly, he was finding himself hard-pressed to concentrate on anything besides the misfortunes plaguing him. The prophecy, losing his Godfather, being separated his friends... it was all too much. And why was it happening to him? Always him... never anyone else.

Harry brought his head to rest on his knees, and stared out at the trees. Just two years ago, he'd been soaring over those trees on a Hippogriff, rescuing his godfather. What had been the point? It had all ended badly anyways.

A sigh escaped him. Would these bitter thoughts ever stop plaguing him? Would he ever have a semblance of a normal life? A family? Would he even survive the coming year... or what he now knew would be the final battle with Voldemort?

The sun slipped below the treeline, leaving behind just a faint pink glow in the late summer sky. A shadow fell over the grounds... but what was that shadow? It was moving... Harry raised his gaze to the figure above.

The greatest bird Harry had ever seen was soaring over the trees. Huge, its wingspan seemed to stretch about twelve feet. Its radiant white color set it apart from any other bird Harry had ever seen; this was no owl, and this was no swan- what could it be? It was... it was soaring closer and closer.

Harry narrowed his eyes, and rose to his feet. The bird was heading for him, deliberately and speedily. There was no mistaking it- Harry was this bird's prey, and considering it's rapid speed, he had very little time to escape. Harry backed up a few steps, and abandoning a cautionary retreat as the bird swooped down on him from overhead, he began to run. The bird came out of its dive and re-circled, taking a more shallow dive this time as it aimed for Harry.

Harry jerked at the door leading to the steps, but it wouldn't budge. Looking behind him and seeing the bird so close, he gave it another mighty tug, but to no avail. It was his last chance; he pulled out his wand and aimed it at the door, ready to blast through it- but it was too late.

It happened so fast. Harry was ready to scream the curse at the stubborn door, when he felt the great talons of the bird sink into his shoulder. He gave a yell at the painful contact, and then at the sudden pull his stomach felt as his feet were lifted off the ground. He kicked his feet, flailed his arms, yelled, anything he could do to get this bird to let go of him. However, as they flew away from the safety of the tower, he soon decided this was a very bad idea.

It was such a shock that Harry realized, as he looked below him, that he was dangling about five hundred feet above the Hogwarts grounds. There was nowhere to go but down, and he certainly wasn't going to take the risk of falling to his death.

It wasn't a long journey, which Harry was almost thankful for. His chances of rescue while in the sky were slim, and he could feel the warm blood trickling down his chest from the shoulders the bird held onto.

The bird started to descend somewhere behind one of the mountains surrounding the castle. They were no longer on Hogwarts grounds, but they were very close. Perhaps, if Harry was left here, he could make a run for it when he had the chance, and make it back to the castle. If he could even send a signal with his wand, he knew that would be enough for someone there to come find him.

Harry was soon released with a thud, and dragged by the beak of the bird into a small cavern. It was shady and a bit damp, but Harry could see very clearly just who this bird was, and what was wanted from him.

It was a quick transformation, one that left Harry little time to think about what to do next. The formerly great white feathers were morphing into long, white strands of hair. The long wings shortened into thicker human arms, and the legs grew to full length. A terrible screech erupted from the bird, and moments later, Lucius Malfoy was standing over Harry, a horrible smirk curling around his thin lips.

Before Harry could reach for his wand, Malfoy had swiped it from his pocket and secured it inside his own.

"Ah ah," Malfoy tutted, mockingly wagging his finger at Harry. "We can't have you going and doing something stupid, now can we?"

His tone became darker. "Get up, now," he said, lip curling in distaste.

Harry did as he was told, not because Malfoy told him to, but because he didn't think that lying on the floor put him at much of an advantage.

Malfoy grabbed Harry by his hair and dragged him back into the dark of the cave. When the older man used his wand to illuminate the cave, Harry saw a small door, and before long, he was being forced through it.

Through the door was a room, a room that appeared to be one of an entire network of chambers, each with its own function. Harry was led through the entryway to what appeared to be some sort of prison. Men and women were chained inside cells, some so bloody and battered they were beyond recognition. Harry wondered if that were to be his fate; would he end up some faceless torture toy chained to a wall?

Malfoy brutally shoved Harry into one of the empty cells.

"I will inform the Dark Lord of your arrival," Malfoy said with a smirk. "Until then, sit still. Oh," Malfoy lowered his voice and leaned forward. "And, if I were you, I'd try not to draw too much attention to myself. Perhaps we've been ordered not to kill you... but there are many things worse than death."

Malfoy straightened back up, looked Harry over, and exited the cell, locking the door behind him with his wand.

Harry waited until he had disappeared from sight, and then rose to his feet. He rubbed his shoulder and winced; there was still blood trickling from the wounds Malfoy had left with his talons. Harry could feel them throbbing painfully, but he didn't care. He had to think of way to get out. But without a wand, the situation was hopeless. He was a scrawny boy for his age, so brute strength was an asset he didn't have. He couldn't pick a magical lock, and even if he did manage to get out, how far would he get without any type of defense?

Harry sat down in the corner, bringing his knees to his chest. All he could do was hope for a rescue… hope someone would notice he was missing… and that they would know where to look.

xxx End Chapter xxx