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"While I thought that I was learning how to live, I have been learning how to die."
~ Leonardo da Vinci ~

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Chapter 16 ~ New Barriers


Harry clenched his fist around thin air, squeezing the life out of some unseen adversary within the quiet hospital wing. The silence was only broken by Kaylens' tranquil breaths, her chest rising and falling as steadily as the light breeze fluttering the curtains.

He'd been cooped up for days, still healing himself, and had been forced to watch her grow ever stiller. Surely he was trapped within one of the seven circles of hell, for each time he looked upon her his guilt rose like a fire, the flames threatening to consume him.

She had saved him. Despite everything he had screamingly accused her of, she had still nearly given her life for his.

Now she lay in this comatose state, and even Madam Pomfrey had been unable to rouse her.

Her skin still held the pallor of death, yet to him it seemed slightly rosier.

Perhaps it was his own wishful thinking.

He rose, unable to remain still, watching her with nothing save his thoughts for company.

Thoughts were such poor comfort...

Not allowed and unwilling to leave, he began sorting through the events of the past few days.

The vindication, the satisfaction, and everything he had expected to feel were conspicuously absent.

Bellatrix Lestrange was dead.

So why did he feel robbed?

The obvious answer came. Tonks had beaten him to the kill. She had killed the one person who's death he had desired above all but Voldemort himself. And now he would never have the chance to avenge Sirius the way he had wanted.

Worst of all, Lestrange's body was gone.

He had wanted to look upon the lifeless face of Sirius' killer and spit upon it.

Now even that cruel comfort had been taken from him.

All he was left with, were unanswered questions, and this cruel circle of hell called the Hogwarts hospital wing.

Still, the facts did not add up. Death Eaters held no loyalty for one another. To them nothing was sacred.

Yet they had salvaged the body.

There was no coming back from the killing curse...

So why do it?

He had unconsciously wandered, finding himself in front of the open third floor window. The autumn scented breeze blew across his bare chest, cooling him. His shirt lay discarded upon his bed, his shoulder gauze recently removed, exposing the claw marks that now indented his skin.

It was necessary, Madam Pomfrey had insisted upon having his wound exposed to the air. He was to be released soon, and she needed to ascertain that it would hold up on it's own.

His fractured scapula had been mended quickly, but werewolf wounds were slow to heal.

It was fortunate he had not been bitten, they had said.

Was he lucky? He was not sure. But even when Dumbledore and Tonks had come, he had felt nothing but hollow. His own apathy was almost enough to wish for death.

Only yesterday had Dumbledore's weathered eyes bored into his, recounting the events in full.

"Experimental spells, their effects unknown to the Order, have been added to Voldemort's arsenal of weaponry, Harry. Take heed..."

He would.

He had seen what happened to Lupin first hand, for his transformation had been triggered by the spell Lucius Malfoy had hit him with.

It had happened during the day.

Now, where Death Eaters roamed, the moon would no longer hold it's sway.

Harry shuddered in the breeze, contemplating the many horrors Voldemort might unleash in addition to daylight roaming werewolves.

Of course there was no need to speculate. Dumbledore had told him about the atrocities of late.

Forty seven innocents, four of them children, had walked upon the Earth. Now they lay beneath it's unforgiving soil, removed by the pitiless actions of Voldemort's minions.

Hermione's parents would soon join them, and his cold rational side realized that when it happened, part of Hermione's soul would be taken forever.

"The war is escalating Harry, far more swiftly than we ever expected..."

He was having trouble accepting any of it, for he knew at the heart of it, he was partly to blame.

For if he were truly the one with the power to defeat the Dark Lord, than every second he had ever spent reveling in life, and not searching for Voldemort's demise, had been another grave in the ground for the innocent.

A painful chill burned within the claw marks he bore, and he wondered if they had re-opened again, bleeding anew. He reached a hand back, gingerly touching it, the blood upon his fingers confirming his suspicions.

It was doubtful he would be permitted to leave soon.

"That's disgusting."

His froze, turning from the window. He stared, taking her in as she blinked the sleep from her eyes, squinting in the morning sunlight.

"You're awake," He stated, slightly stunned. He had begun to wonder if she ever would.

She smiled weakly. "You're observant."

"You were out for five days."

She paled considerably.

He was slow to recover, and debated getting Madam Pomfrey. But she would be back soon, to check on his own wounds. She could find her awake then. Besides, he was afraid to leave her alone for even a second, fearful that she might fall into that unending slumber once more.

"So how is it?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.

He studied her, thinking about how to answer. His pride made him hesitant to admit weakness, but her eyes...

She would discern a lie if he told it, he realized, deciding on the truth.

"Painful," He watched her eyes flicker shut. "You?"

"Like hell..." She murmured.

"You look it."

She graced him with a wry smile, a lock of hair falling into her eyes. She looked almost annoyed.

She reached up, brushing the lock aside, revealing her deathly pale skin. Her controlled movements exposed her own pain to him in a way no words could.

As did her wrist. His eyes caught upon the dark bruise encircling it.

He crossed to her, catching her wrist gently. She glanced up, hazel eyes narrowed in confusion.

"You bruise easily don't you?" He asked, cautiously turning her hand in his. It was so delicate he was afraid it would break further than it already had from her fall.

Her eyes traveled to where his fingers lay.

"Apparently," Her voice was so faint...

"Pomfrey said she had taken care of this," He whispered aloud, gently relinquishing her hand. She let it fall upon her pillow, besides her face. "Your bones may not have healed properly."

She flexed it back and forth, grimacing slightly. "It's fine."

"Right," He said skeptically, withdrawing to the bed across from her, sitting upon the taunt sheets.

It was funny, but had she had woken a few days earlier he probably would have demanded answers, answers about how she knew Lupin, about what she really did or did not know about Death Eaters, but after days of sitting there, watching her frail figure sleep, the mere thought of interrogating her bothered him.

His answers could wait, for a little while at least.

"Tonks stopped by earlier," He said, breaking the silence. "She said Lupin sends his love."

Her eyes opened hopefully. "So he's..."

"Yeah," He finished.

She sunk farther into the mattress. "Thank God. Finally something's gone right."

She lay there, so still, for so long, he would have sworn she slept. It was part fear, fear that she would not awake, that drove him to the admission.

"You saved my life," He said quietly.

She stretched ever so slightly, the sheets sliding away to reveal her bare toes. Her face relaxed, almost serenely. "You saved mine first."

He wanted to argue, but lacked the heart, watching how her eyes broke from his, dancing away.

"That fall down the stairs you took...I probably wouldn't have held up as well."

Looking at how fragile she seemed, he realized she spoke the truth.

It was then that Pomfrey walked in.

He tore his eyes from her, and allowed Pomfrey to fuss over him willingly this time.
* * * * *


Several days later he had been prepped to leave. His left arm hung loose in a sling, preventing unnecessary movement.

Lupin's claws had torn into him just beneath his shoulder blade, right where several muscles came together. Apparently re-growing muscles was as tricky as re-growing bones.

He still needed to talk to Kaylens, but she slept. They had not shared a word since she had first awoken, content to sit there in silence. He was debating whether or not to break that silence when a frustrated looking Ron walked in.

Looking at Ron, he realized that there were other things that had to be taken care of first.

He had been dreading this conversation for days. Ron and Hermione would want answers. Answers about his absence... Answers about what had occurred in Dumbledore's office days earlier... Answers about Voldemort's intrusions into his mind...

Answers he could not give.

How could he explain the pressure he felt, or Voldemort's intrusions, without revealing the contents of the prophecy?

How could he explain what had gone on at Sirius', without revealing all he had seen?

And how could he explain why Hermione's parents had been taken from her? They would never accept 'because of me' as an answer.

He threw a last glance at Kaylens' sleeping form. They would talk later. He promised himself that.

He and Ron stepped into the hall. It was mercifully vacant, making the stone-lined corridor appear longer than usual.

It had been over a week since he and Kaylens had disappeared from the Headmaster's office, and one of the last warm weekends of the year had driven the student body outside.

As for him, during that time, Voldemort had left his mind alone. He had felt the beginnings of an intrusion days earlier, but Riddle had withdrawn, sensing that his decision had not yet been made.

Riddle had given him more time due to his injury, and for that, Harry had to give him credit.

As evil as Voldemort was, the creature had some class.

They walked in silence, Ron's eyes darting towards him. He knew Ron was trying to decide what was safe to discuss.

Harry decided to spare him the awkwardness. "How's Hermione?"

Ron shrugged despondently. "How do you think she's doing?"

"Not good," The absence of people made the corridor cavernous, and his breath echoed quietly.

"Harry what's going on?"

I wish I knew Ron... His own frustration at this very question had been building inside for days. Dumbledore had told him some, but there was still the question of Kaylens. How did she fit into all of this? Did she even? And Voldemort... There had to be more to it, because the pieces Dumbledore had told him did not fit with what he had seen through Voldemort's own eyes.

Not to mention the prophecy. How in the hell was he supposed to beat him?

There were too many questions to answer, before the most important ones could even be framed.

They walked the rest of the way in silence.

Hermione was there, waiting for them in the empty dormitory, sprawled out with a book on Ron's bed. Her eyes were rimmed with dark circles, similar to Kaylens.

Misery loves company, he thought. Ron sat besides her, placing a hand on her back. Only then did she seem to realize they were there.

"Harry...H-how are you?"

He smiled for her benefit. "The question is, how are you?"

She shrugged, re-burying her nose into her book. "They wouldn't let us see you."

"I know."

"Why?" Ron asked.

Harry dropped his bag onto the bed, and began removing the few belongings Pomfrey had brought down for him. "Dumbledore's orders." His eyes would not meet theirs.

Ron frowned. "His reason?"

So he could have time to brief us on what we could or could not say to you, he thought.

"He didn't want us seen. We weren't in..." He shrugged with one shoulder. "No one should have seen us after it okay?"

Hermione's eyes roamed, landing on his sling.

He caught the unspoken question. "Werewolf wounds are slow to heal."

They both looked at him as if he were a new species.

"W-were you...?" Ron stammered.

"No. I was not bitten."

Hermione looked skeptical. "Harry that's not possible."

"Why?" She cringed at his forcefulness.

"Because the full moon isn't until..."

"This weekend. Yes I know 'Mione."

"Then how could a werewolf..."

His expression turned grave. "There are ways."

Hermione was no longer even trying to read, her voice unusually high. "That can't be. A werewolf can't change out of lunar sequence..."

"Don't be so sure of that," He said bitterly.

Ron looked between them. "How? How could it Harry?"

Harry stared him down, unblinking. "Voldemort."

Ron's blue eyes widened, his freckles standing out against his paling skin, putting two and two together. "So when you and Kaylens went to see Lupin..."

"He turned. Yes."

"Merlin..." Ron whispered, unconsciously rubbing Hermione's back harder.

"Harry I don't understand," She said haltingly, shoving her book away, it's pages flapping lifelessly as it fell to the floor. She spared it not a glance. "Please Harry. What's going on?"

"Too much to explain easily, 'Mione."

Ron took Hermione's hand almost naturally. "Then take your time mate. Start from the beginning."

Harry shook his head, hating himself. "Fine, the beginning then...." He steadied himself, and met Hermione's almost pleading gaze.

"You both already know that Voldemort has not given me a moment's peace since last summer. It's a private battle between him and I. We're both fighting for information, about the other side's comings and goings, about how much the other side knows..."

He talked steadily, opening his dresser drawer to put clothing away. His actions, however menial, lent a sense of normality to the otherwise ominous conversation.

"Your parents 'Mione, he said he will release them," He ignored her intake of breath. "If I tell him what the contents of the prophecy were."

Her expression drooped. "But how could you? It broke..." She glanced at Ron, searching for confirmation, repeating herself now. "You can't know what it said. Could you?"

He found himself nodding. "Yes, Hermione. It broke. But I still know what it said."

The silence that followed occupied years within his mind, yet it lasted no more than 3 seconds.

"What did it say?" She questioned cautiously.

He remained silent, until her pleading voice broke again.

"Harry, please..."

"Don't ask me Hermione, not again. It is something I cannot share."

The betrayed looks upon their faces nearly broke his spirit.

Hermione's mouth opened and closed wordlessly. It was Ron who finally gave voice to their thoughts. "Why Harry? Why can't you share it?"

"You would not want to hear it."

"How could we not? Harry this is all we've worked for! Did it say how we can beat him..."

He swallowed hard. "No Ron."

"Then why won't..."

"No."

Ron's voice was hard. "Then if not us, him? It could save 'Mione's..."

The accusation in Ron's voice was too much. He could take no more. "Because I can't Ron! Don’t you think I would if I could?"

Ron shook his head. "I don't know anymore Harry."

Harry was having trouble keeping his voice level. "Ron, if I tell him there is no reason for him to keep the Grangers alive anymore. It's our biggest bargaining chip."

Hermione sounded so small now. "But V-voldemort said he'd...he'd l-let them g-go..."

His jaw dropped. Hermione was smarter than this wasn't she? "I'm sorry Hermione but once I tell him...."

"He'd let them go," Ron interrupted. "Make him release one at least Harry! Then tell him for God's sakes! What could it hurt?! Bargain with him!"

Harry lost his patience. "Don't you guys get it?! This is Voldemort we are talking about!" They both cringed at the name, his voice rising. "This isn't some war game were playing against the Slytherins! This is real life! Voldemort is eviler that either of you can even imagine..."

"Really?" Ron countered. "Were we or were we not there with you Harry? Huh? Did we not see what he was capable of at the Department of Mysteries?"

Harry shook his head, never more serious. "No Ron. You didn't." He felt almost sorry at Ron's crestfallen look. "You only saw what Death Eaters were capable of. That is nothing compared to him."

"Harry then why don't you just tell us how he..." Hermione started miserably.

"Because Hermione! There's no way to explain it..."

"There's no need to yell at her mate," Ron said coolly.

He laughed bitterly. "Oh but there is Ron. Because after everything we've been through you'd think you would both trust my judgment on this..."

"No," Ron squeezed Hermione's hand and stood. "Because we remember where your judgment got Sirius."

Harry felt as if his insides had frozen. There was no arguing this.

"If you had only listened to Hermione it wouldn't have happened," Ron continued icily. "And now your hesitation concerning this prophecy may get her parents killed as well."

Hermione had begun tugging on his hand frantically. "Ron..."

"No Hermione. He needs to hear this. Because it's like he doesn't even trust us..."

"I do trust you," Harry whispered.

Ron's eyebrows raised so far they disappeared beneath his hair. "Really?! Then why did you hardly breath a word to us all summer? Why won't you talk to us now?"

"I am talking..."

"No. Your blocking Harry. Like in chess." Ron pointed his wand out the door, summoning the chess board from the common room. Levitating it, Ron cleared the board save for the pawns, king, and queen of both sides, his brow furrowed in concentration. He then moved the pawns so they protectively surrounded the king and queen on one side, leaving the other side's king and queen unprotected.

"The way I see it Harry, all you have left are pawns." Ron continued, gesturing to the protected side of the board. "So instead of risking everything to take my king, you're protecting yours."

Ron moved a pawn on Harry's side away. "You're afraid that if you move your pawns for a second, that I might get in and take your king."

Ron's queen shot forward, moving through the opening Harry's pawn had left, taking his queen out with a violent whack of her chair. She then stood, posed to take his king on the next move.

"The king represents everything your keeping from us Harry." He continued seriously. "You won't let your king be taken, because if that happens..."

The chess board folded in on itself, slamming to the floor.

"Game over."

Harry shook his head, unable to deny Ron's accusation.

He was right. And for the first time Harry realized how truly different he was from them.

He loved them, but Ron and Hermione could never share his burden, no matter how much they wanted to.

The sound of the metaphorical wall falling between them filled his mind, and Ron spoke again.

"Game over Harry. Only you’re the only one who knows what game were playing."
* * * * *


Harry tromped through the corridor, feeling worse than he had thought possible. He preferred feeling numb, at least then he felt nothing at all.

They simply did not understand. Not that he had expected them to. Things were too dangerous now. Voldemort had made a hobby out of extinguishing anyone close to his heart, and he was not about to fill Ron and Hermione's heads with anything that might make them more tempting targets than they already were.

Which was why he had flat out refused to divulge anything else, and held his ground about not revealing the prophecy to Voldemort. Not even for Hermione....

Ron had stormed out telling him to 'keep his secrets' and Hermione had plead with him to 'not shut them out.'

The choice was no longer his.

No longer would they be privy to Harry Potter's bad decisions.

They wouldn't end up like Sirius.

He knew exactly where he was going, and rounded the corner to the hospital wing. His foul mood only increased when Madam Pomfrey stuck out her head, a forced smile plastered upon it, and asked him to wait.

The door slammed and the sound of argument resumed. Dumbledore's voice caught his attention. What was he doing in the hospital wing? Perhaps to see Kaylens, but he had already visited them once. It wasn't like the Headmaster to visit students though. And he should know, he had been in the hospital wing too many times to count, but could count Dumbledore's visits there on one hand.

A disturbing thought struck him. What if Kaylens had gotten worse?

He reached into his pocket and withdrew the extendable ear he had taken to carrying at all times. His decision made he slipped it beneath the door.

Madam Pomfrey's reproving tone came out clearly. "...cells need to regenerate before you can even attempt to perform magic again."

"But I'm behind enough as it is!" Kaylens... A twisting wave of relief washed through him. And to think, normally he had trouble resisting the urge to mute her.

Dumbledore spoke now. "Miss Kaylens I don't think Remus would want you over-exerting..."

"Well I'm not particularly concerned with what he thinks at the moment."

The silence was palpable, and he shifted nervously. She was okay, now that he knew this he really shouldn’t be listening...

Yet something about Dumbledore's tone made him. As outwardly honest as the Headmaster had been with him lately, his faith in the man was still recovering. It had been shattered too skillfully the previous year.

"Kalliandra, we did not want you burdened with this."

"Considering that I'm the one you can't cure, don't you think that should have been my decision?"

Cure? His stomach lurched dangerously.

"Kalliandra, looking at it as a death sentence will not help matters."

Her voice was strained. "You're right. Nothing will. You know that the odds..."

"Are only as good as you make them," Dumbledore finished. "That is precisely why we did not want to burden you with this."

"I'd prefer the burden," Kaylens hissed, her voice suddenly stronger. "Now is there anything else your keeping from me?" Her voice was strained and accusatory. "Because I'd like to know before I read about it in some stupid book."

Silence.

"I thought so."

His entire body shook unsteadily. So much so that the approaching footsteps did not register until the door had swung open in front of him, revealing a pale looking Kalliandra.

He could only stare, words abandoning him. Her eyes had caught on the extendable ear.

Her garment bag slipped down on her shoulder, her entire form quivering.

"Potter..." She whispered chokingly. She locked eyes with him, her expression stunned.

A second later she was gone. The glistening of her eyes the harshest reproach he had ever seen.

________________________________________

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"Just as courage imperils life, fear protects it."
~ Leonardo da Vinci ~

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Chapter 17 ~ Kunnskap

Kunnskap is Norweigan for Knowledge



She shoved open the entrance doors, leaving the secure halls of the school behind, and walked out onto the rapidly cooling grounds. She blinked back the moisture that lingered within her eyes. No tears would fall, no matter how hard they threatened. This she promised herself.

She was furious, but her anger paled in comparison to her self loathing. She had been so unbelievably stupid! It had been bad enough to trust Remus, but to have nearly let down that barrier again...

"Damn't Potter!" She swore quietly.

Despite the pain they had been in, the time spent within the hospital wing had been pleasant. She and Potter had dwelt in silent companionship, both knowing there were things that needed to be discussed. Despite that he had not pressed her to talk, instead he had seemed to calmly accept her silence.

This change had been oddly comforting.

At least until she had stormed out, to find him standing there with an extendable ear.

She kicked the ground , scattering dirt in her wake.

She could not fathom why she had thought he would let her keep her secrets. But she had been a complete fool for entertaining the notion.

And for some reason his small betrayal hurt her.

Gods... She turned her tear filled eyes towards the sky, tracing along the darkening clouds, and noted how low they hung. It was the incoming storm that had drawn her outdoors after all. The strange feeling slithering through her, as if static electricity were tickling her very skin, had been hard to ignore.

She reveled in the small distraction from her thoughts, and allowed herself to simply feel.

The looming clouds pulsated with unstable vibrations, their rhythmic throbbing pulsated within her very blood, and her hair stood on end as if one had just run a balloon through her hair.

The storm front rolled in above her, and the more astute of her peers began to head indoors. The area surrounding the lake had been the first of the grounds to be abandoned, and her feet led her there.

She wanted the seclusion.

She had grown so used to despair, to feeling only constant numbness, punctuated by bouts of undiluted anger, that she had forgotten how to feel something as human as fear.

Everything had happened so fast the day she had received the shopkeepers note, and there had been no time for the cold truth to sink in. Only over the past days, as she and Potter had lain there in silence, had it finally registered.

Pomfrey's words had just driven it home.

Somehow, hearing the Healer's words had made it real, and now fear held her heart in a vice grip.

Despite the fear, she felt oddly detached, each aching step reminding her how she had already nearly died from her stout with the werewolf.

Perhaps death would be a blessing. She just had things to do before it found her.

The vibrations in the high sky were back, and she cringed at the electricity there. Being a part of such things, feeling such things, was not always pleasant.

It was often painful.

She rubbed her arms against the chill wind, thankful that God had some sense of pity. Fortunately for her, the human brain could only register pain as abnormal for so long, before it accepted the pain as the constant state of affairs. Then it would be ignored.

Oddly enough, it was very similar to how the fragrant scent of roses would lessen, if one were to stand amongst them, breathing them in for too long.

Still, acclimation could only do so much, and her body ached, protesting constantly.

Instead of leaving the grounds at the threat of rain, she continued meandering across the grounds, walking the circumference of the lake, observing it carefully.

She took it all in with her normal perceptiveness. There were spots where the grounds ended, dropping off sharply to meet the duckweed covered surface of the water.

In other spots the ground gradually sloped down, kissing the lake's rippling waves. There the dark earth was muddied, imprinted with the footprints of those who had braved the shallows to swim, before the weather had cooled in wake of the incoming afternoon storm.

She passed by both these areas, heading closer to the Forbidden Forest. Here she kicked off her shoes, allowing them to dangle freely from one hand as she picked her way across the far end of the lake. Here small stones formed a natural beach, and she sat down near the edge, letting her fingers trail across the rough pebbled edges beneath her.

She accumulated a small collection of flat bottomed rocks, gathering them within her hands, and she cast the first across the serene water, breaking it's glassy surface.

The giant squid lazily reached out a tentacle, swatting at and missing the cast stone.

She smiled ruefully, casting another towards him. This time the tentacle swung and connected, sending the stone flying high above her head.

A low rumble filled the sky, and the altocumulus clouds dipped threateningly lower, wafting the scent of rain upon the breeze towards her. The sky had grown darker, and she vaguely remembered the afternoons she and Sean had once spent, skipping stones across the lake near their family home.

But there had been no giant squid to play with there.

She skipped another.

A fleshy pink tentacle connected with it, hurtling it back.

To the side of her came an unmistakable grunt.
* * * * *


Harry winced, rubbing his forehead. That was definitely going to leave a mark.

It had taken him all of thirty seconds to decide to follow her. The memory of her watery eyes had been alarming, and he couldn't let her leave like that, not when she didn't understand.

He cast a glare at the giant squid, approaching her cautiously, carefully trying to not slip upon the slick rocks as he walked down towards her.

He treaded as close as he dared, pausing to hover uncertainly. Her shoulders had stiffened at his outcry, the only sign to indicate that she was aware of his presence.

He swallowed hard. From where he stood besides her, he could see the drawn line of her lips, and how her eyes gazed, almost longingly across the dark surface of the lake. He followed her gaze, the first drops of rain drizzling upon them.

The lake's once glossy exterior now moved with a life of its own. Each raindrop sending circular ripples outwards, each disturbance merging with the other furrows spreading across its surface. The effect was entrancing, and he drew his eyes away from the scene before him, to the girl before him. She was why he had ventured out here, despite the threatening storm.

"What are you doing out here?" He asked carefully. Another rock of thunder shuddered the sky, drowning him out, and the giant squid disappeared beneath the lake's surface.

"Enjoying the sunshine," Her hair fluttered lightly around her face. "I thought it would be obvious."

"It's not," He responded, the wind carrying his voice.

Silence reigned for some time, broken only by the increasing rhythm of rain, pattering around them. The water gradually matted his unruly hair to his forehead, and Kaylen's golden hair darkened with saturation.

She sat with a relaxed air, unbothered by the icy droplets pouring down. Slowly, with evident pain in her movements, she scooted closer to the lake's edge, dipping her feet into the churning water as casually as if it were a mid-summer day, rather than a windy October downpour. Never once did she look at him.

Her shoulders were bare, and her damp hair clung to them. He was close enough to notice the slight goose bumps prickling across her pale skin.

The conversation he had overheard forced it's way to the forefront of his mind as he watched her shiver.

Kaylens was sick...

"Here," He said, shattering their verbal lapse. He picked his way across the pebbly decline to her, shrugging out of his cloak. He felt no awkwardness as he picked up her damp hair, draping it across her shoulders.

She looked up, turning her questioning gaze towards him. He was at a loss, for the glossiness of her eyes could not be from rain water alone.

"You'll er...well you're soaked..."

Her eyes held his, and for the most fleeting of seconds the suspicion he was so used to seeing vanished. "Thank you," She murmured, inclining her head to the spot besides her.

He lowered himself besides her, afraid to speak. His heart pounded loudly in his chest. Never before had he been so fearful of reprimand. His luck may have lasted thus far, but even he would not blame her for screaming if she so chose.

For once he could admit to deserving it, and her silent acceptance of his presence was unnerving.

The sky thundered, lighting up as lighting flashed high in the clouds. It struck him as extremely unwise to be in their positions, so close to water.

"We should go in." His voice lacked conviction.

With the back of her wrist she rubbed the water from her eyes.

"Well?" Above the rumbling overhead he could tell she was speaking louder. Though the difference was barely discernable.

"Well what?"

"I doubt you came here out of concern for my well being," She said, staring resolutely across the lake.

He opened his mouth to explain that that was exactly why he had come, but she went on.

"And since there are no conversations going on for you to listen to, I'm wondering what your doing here." Another flash of lightning illuminated her soaked features, and he found himself drawn towards her serene expression, confounded by her words.

Despite their content, her tone held no trace of the familiar sarcasm or malice.

Instead she sounded curious.

The realization sent an out of place smile across his face.

"Kaylens, you wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me."

"I came to apologize."

To his surprise, she actually laughed. The sound had a haunting quality to it, for it blended artfully with the wind howling around them. The storm had crept upon them fast.

"You're right." She said, shaking her wet hair out in vain. "I don't."

He seized the opportunity to keep her talking. "Well I am. Kaylens I..."

"How much did you hear?" Her gaze turned pointedly down.

He sighed in frustration. "Enough to know that you shouldn't be out in this downpour."

She nodded, closing her eyes as if pained. "You have no idea how wrong you are."

He frowned. "I would if you just talked to me."

The look she shot him could silence the devil himself. "And why should I? You haven't been the portrait of honesty Potter."

"Perhaps if you would just listen you would find out."

She did not answer. Instead, she tilted her face towards the sky, allowing the rain to pour over her more freely. Her hair fell away from her shoulders, revealing her long neck. She remained this way for what may have been mere seconds, but to him, felt like hours.

"Okay Potter," She finally breathed. "Try me."

Such was his astonishment that for once, he did not hesitate.

And he explained.

He explained why he had followed her that day into Knockturn Alley, how her stubborn refusal to answer questions about Death Eaters had led him, to what he hoped, were wrong assumptions, and how, after days of watching her in a comatose state, he had feared that she had fallen ill once again.

He spoke to her, the rain cascading down their bodies as they sat, keeping each other's acquaintance, the storm forgotten. Several times she made to move, shaking her head disbelievingly, but his hand on her arm silenced her refutes. By the time he was done, a sad expression had crossed her features.

He studied her, puzzled. "Look, Kaylens I didn't mean to upset you if..."

She shivered noticeably, shaking her sopping hair. "No, it's not that Potter..." She trailed off, showing no intent of finishing.

He swallowed hard. God he just wanted things to be okay between them. There was still so much to talk about...

"Kaylens are..."

Her expression darkened at his words, and she stood abruptly, her shivering more pronounced.

"We should go in," She stated, interrupting him.

He nodded disappointedly, noting that the storm showed no sign of relenting soon, and stood with her. He already felt bad that they had stayed out there so long.

The second he was up she unceremoniously shoved his cloak back into his arms. He looked at it in surprise, and was about to argue, noting how far a walk to the school it still was, when he realized that she had already spun and taken off into the downpour.

"Wait!" He called, utterly confused. He stumbled after her, slipping on the wet rocks, and caught up to her on the grass.

"Kaylens keep it. You'll freeze otherwise." He went to drape it across her shoulders but she brushed him off.

"I'm fine," She said grimacing. "Really," She added, seeing his disbelieving look.

He matched her stride determinedly, noticing the reemergence of her stubborn streak, and threw it around her anyway. "Kaylens if you're sick you're wearing this until we're inside. I don’t care..."

She whorled on him, looking disturbingly distressed, her skin dangerously pale. "Look, Potter... Do yourself a favor okay? Don't worry about me."

He found himself shaking, be it from the cold or the icy palor of her skin, he did not know, yet all thoughts of speech were driven away.

It was as if she were transforming before him. Her icy barriers that he had not even noticed to be missing before, were coming back. What had he done to cause this? A few seconds ago they had been on almost civil terms.

The thought of her hating him again churned his stomach. He couldn't allow it...

She was backing away from him. "In fact..." She continued, sounding like a frightened animal. "For your own good, just stay the hell away from me."

She took off, leaving him standing there stunned, his sopping wet cloak on the muddied ground.
* * * * *


Over the past few days, since Kaylens had left him standing there in the pouring rain, Harry's mood had not improved.

He just did not understand what he had done, and every time he caught a glimpse of her he felt sick.

Everytime he had seen her, she had been with Draco Malfoy...

The fact that he still had a sneaking suspicion that she was clueless as to what a Death Eater was did not help matters.

It was enough for him to nearly send curses flying. At Luna's insistence, he had taken to kicking suits of armor instead.

Apparently the metallic noise made by kicking something attracted Crumple Horned Snorkacks.

Or something like that.

His reaction was puzzling, even to him. He could not deny that he felt oddly protective of her. How could he not? He had spent far too much time watching over her in the hospital wing, and the thought of further harm coming to her drove him mad.

Perhaps that was why he felt so crushed now that the fragile rapport he had, for a few exhilarating moments, thought they had built, had shattered.

But still... He could not fathom what it was he had said wrong. All he knew was that she was no longer openly hostile towards him. Instead she avoided him like the plague.

He had seen her alone that very morning, and it had taken all his patience to avoid hexing her into next week when she had practically sprinted down the hall to talk to Dean, upon catching sight of him.

Hell, he had come damn near closer to hexing her and Malfoy in Defense Against the Dark Arts that very day. He had walked in to find her and Malfoy chatting in hushed whispers, bent over parchment.

The second he had come within earshot the parchment had been rolled up and stuffed hastily into Malfoy's book satchel.

Kaylens had refused to look at him. But he had not failed to notice how her hands shook for the rest of class.

It had been easy to notice since he had been sitting alone. Ron and Hermione had holed themselves up on the other side of the room. And unlike Kaylens and Hermione, who contented themselves to avoiding him, Ron had made sport of sending hostile glares his way.

At least the hostile looks from his roommates were understandable. He had had another violent dream with Voldemort that week, and had woken up in a right state, screaming at every one of them.

Even the suits of armor had taken to cursing him when he walked by. Apparently they didn't like attracting afore mentioned snorkacks.

Come to think of it, the only person talking to him now seemed to be Luna. And since she was in the year below him, he found himself sitting alone in classes, and eating lunch at the Ravenclaw table.

In short, the week had passed by in a dizzying haze.

Fortunately it would soon be over. Luna had already expressed her intent to get his mind off of things, and was planning on forcibly dragging him to Hogsmeade.

He actually didn't mind the idea.

He finally reached the door, and Crusantheus surprisingly opened without complaint, revealing Dumbledore's office. He stepped in for his lessons, removing his wand in preparation.

"That will be unnecessary today Harry." Dumbledore said, catching sight of him from behind his desk.

Perhaps it was because his thoughts had been elsewhere, but the idea of a wandless Occlumency lesson caught him off guard. He furrowed his brow questioningly.

Dumbledore caught the unspoken question. "Tonight, I have something different planned. Besides, I have taught you all I can regarding Occlumency Harry. The rest is up to you."

Somehow Harry strongly disagreed with this. If he had learned all there was to know about Occlumency, he would not still be having violent nightmares. "Professor, in all due respect, if I had actually learned everything wouldn't I be well...good at this then?"

Dumbledore cracked a smile. "Ah, you see Harry, therein lies the difference. You have learned all I have to teach about Occlumency. That is an entirely different matter from mastering the discipline."

Harry was stunned, all previous thoughts and irritation at the Professor driven from his mind.

Never in his life would he have imagined Dumbledore being unable to teach him something.

"Occlumency, Harry, is less about erecting mental barriers, and more about controlling one's emotions. Keeping your emotions hidden from the enemy is of extreme importance. And frankly, gets easier with age." Dumbledore stood with a rather large feather duster and began to attack a disgruntled portrait with it.

"Harry, you have become quite adept at creating barriers, visualizing a brick wall is your barrier of choice is it not?" Harry nodded but Dumbledore was continuing. "But the only way to strengthen that wall at this point, is to learn to mask your emotions."

Harry stared somewhat unabashedly as the previous headmistress made a rather crude hand gesture.

"Er... Professor?" He questioned hesitantly. "What exactly do you mean by 'masking' them?"

"Ah, not explaining myself very well am I?"

He valued his education far too much to respond truthfully.

"Well Harry, when one sifts through your mind, painful memories can get unearthed. It's natural to recall the emotions these experiences caused you. Such a distraction is all the enemy would need to delve deeper into your mind." Dumbledore was carrying on with all the air of one discussing a weekend outing. "And you have no shortage of painful memories Harry. It would be quite easy for Voldemort to find one to use against you."

He did not need Dumbledore to tell him that, he had already re-lived the guilt of Sirius' death all summer.

"So are you going to make me relive those memories for practice?" He asked, somewhat apprehensive.

Dumledore turned to look at him, balancing precariously on the stool he was using to reach ole Phinneus' portrait. "Why of course not. Certainly, I could go sifting about through your mind, forcing you to recall bad times in your life. But dredging up old memories and forcing you to deal with them would only help you build up indifference. We don't want that."

Dumbledore turned back and shoved the feather duster right where Phinneus' face had just re-appeared. The former headmaster cringed and jumped out of the frame again.

"Harry, what we do want, is for you to come to terms with the crueler parts of your past. And only you can define what those terms are. But I dare remind you, there is a difference between allowing the past to remind you, and allowing the past to control you."

Dumbledore jumped down from the stool, wiping his dusty hands on his robes. "Well now that’s done. Now I have something to show you."

He beckoned him to where he stood, withdrawing a worn, leather bound book from one of his shelves. "You know, I almost lost this after that squabble yourself, Mr. Weasley, and Ms. Kaylens had the other day Harry." He peered down his spectacles at him. "I trust that is now resolved?"

Harry found himself oddly stuttering. "S-sort of..."

Dumbledore shrugged. "Well, give it time, give it time. It may take her awhile to open up to anyone, seeing as how matters are."

The Headmaster was running his wand up and down the spine of the book in an odd zig-zag pattern, muttering something about mothballs. A loud 'pop' was heard, making Harry jump, and the book sprang out of Dumbledore's hands, falling open on the table before them.

"Now this Harry, is something you will not have seen, nor heard of before."

Harry had to admit that Dumbledore was dead on.

Inside the open book, where the pages should have been, lay a pink layer of fog. There was a sense of depth to the interior of it, and Harry had the vague sense that another dimension lay just beyond the peacefully swirls.

Dumbledore reached his hand into it. "It is a rather clever hiding spot for things. Not only is the locking mechanism for it rather tricky, but only a hand with my DNA could reach into this and still find their hand attatched."

Harry had been unconsciously leaning forward, trying to peer through the fog, but at this pronouncement took a step back. Dumbledore's hand fished around blindly for a few minutes, before emerging with a silvery chain. A small vial was attached to the end of it.

The Headmaster shut the book, muttering a few charms, and replaced it upon the shelf. "This is something that I have been wanting to give you for quite some time Harry. But until recently, the opportunity had not presented itself. The fact that it had not, is entirely my fault, and for that I am sorry."

The Headmaster, indeed, truly looked sorry. In fact he was looking rather grave all of a sudden. "Ever since the day that cursed prophecy was made Harry, myself and a few others have been working on this. I still feel that it is woefully inadequate, but for now, it is all I can give you."

At this pronouncement, Dumbledore handed the vial over. Harry took it with no small amount of trepidation. The vial, Harry found, was surprisingly warm

"The vial you now hold is a special form of pensieve, Harry." Dumbledore said by way of explanation. "It is called a Kunnskap. It means knowledge. And unlike normal pensieves, it does not have an unlimited capacity. It can only contain a select few memories, and I believe that there are 81 different lessons contained within this one."

Only eighty-one? He thought, slightly amused by the Headmasters definition of only. He turned the vial within his hands, noting that unlike in Dumbledore's pensieve, blue specs darted to and fro within the silvery substance here, colliding frequently to emit dark green sparks. It was like watching the reflection of fireworks in a silvery pond, only on a miniature scale.

A thought occurred to him.

"What do you mean by lessons, Professor?" He asked curiously.

"I was just getting to that." Dumbledore replied, looking strained. "But given the danger that you have been in ever since that cursed prophecy was made, I wanted to have a way of preserving, and passing on, knowledge of certain spells to you."

The Headmaster paused, shutting the leather volume. Whisps of curling pink tendrils snuck out around the edges as he placed it back upon the shelf.

"Times were dark." He continued gravely. "I did not know how many of us would survive, but we knew it was essential to pass on our knowledge to the next generation. This was our way of ensuring that at least one good wizard recieved that if the worst were to happen."

Such a glum pronouncement chilled him, for in admitting that he had once prepared for the worst, Dumbledore had admitted to his own mortality.

Despite his irritation and anger at all the Headmaster had withheld over the years, the thought of a mortal Dumbledore shook his concept of a stable universe.

The Headmaster motioned Harry into a plush plum armchair, oblivious to his pupil's dark thoughts.

"Over the years, myself, and others within the old Order, added select pieces of knowledge that we wanted to depart to you, to this. You'll even find some of my old school day lessons there. Things like apparition, curse-breaking, animagus studies... They are all in there."

Harry listened intently, not wanting to miss a word. The conversation had become oddly personal.

A house elf popped into existence then, extending a plate of biscuits to him. He scarcely managed to take one, for his mind was fixated on the cruel irony of the situation.

This vial was a true gift, yet he was only receiving it because of the prophecy's heavy burden.

Suddenly he felt rather blunt. "Professor, you made this to help me figuer out how to defeat Voldemort, didn't you?"

Dumbledore smiled sadly, sipping the tea that had materialized. "We made it, because we still have hope."

Hope... Why couldn't someone else have been wizarding kind's hope?

Dumbledore was mercifully oblivious to the dark thoughts still flitting through his mind.

"Harry, the Kunnskap does not work like a normal pensieve. Instead of entering a memory, the memory enters you. So once you unearth one, it's knowledge will remain permanently yours."

This piqued his interest. "So you mean that I can become an animagus just by looking at the memory in it?"

Dumbledore smiled ruefully. "No. This will teach you the theory, and knowing the theory of something is entirely different from putting it to use. However..." The man's blue eyes twinkled mischievously. "I have it on good word that learning and researching just the theory on animagi can take years. So all you will have left to do is practice putting what this will teach you, into use."

Thinking of what he, Ron, and Hermione had planned, he suddenly wondered, for the thousandth time since coming to Hogwarts, just how much that the Headmaster knew about his students.

Against his better judgment, he broke out into a small smile. Even Hermione, with all her convictions against taking short cuts to learn something, would probably die for a look into this thing.

God he would miss them... Perhaps one day, when things were different....

As if reading his thoughts, Dumbledore smiled. "For the time being Harry, I would keep this to yourself. Because of the Kunnskap's potential for misuse, only seven were made. We would not want this falling into the wrong hands."

Harry was taken aback. For once, Dumbledore was actually trusting him with something important. "T-thanks Professor. I'll look after it."

He'd be damned if he disappointed him.

Dumbledore smiled over his cup. "I'm sure you will Harry. Do try to use it in private though. When one uses it they tend to appear in a trance, and I would hate to see what your roommates would do if they stumbled upon you in such a state. And I would know, Mrs. Norris once caught me using this."

Harry nearly choked on his biscuit.

The past fortnight, he realized, had truly been full of surprises.
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Thank you SticksN'Stones for the excellent banner!

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"Choose to be not a product of your environment, nor of your experience, but a product of what your heart tells you the world can be in its finest hour."
~ A.K. Lovell ~

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Chapter 18 ~ The Scars Life Leaves


Tonks threw open the shades, allowing the bright afternoon light to stream in, filling the room with yellow hues so bright that not even Remus, who was valiantly feigning sleep, could ignore them.

She marched to the side of his bed, throwing open the bed hangings.

"Get up." She clipped, her expression anything but amused.

"How did you get past the wards?" Remus groaned, pulling his pillow over his head so he resembled a burrowing animal.

She contented herself to narrowing her violet eyes. "Bill's a curse breaker. And when he and I have over two weeks with nothing to do but crack the wards on our stubborn arse of a friend's home we tend to succeed."

Remus emitted a low grumbling sound, indecipherable to any human ear. It was at this point that she decided she had had enough. She ripped the covers from his bed, and flung them out the now open window.

"Remus did you really think you could avoid us forever!" She hollered. "What the hell is the matter with you?"

At his lack of responsiveness she stomped her foot angrily, and began spraying him with water from the tip of her wand.

Remus jerked so violently that he rolled right out of bed, landing in a heap on the floor. He blinked groggily, his face scrunched up and dripping. He looked extremely disgruntled.

"You look like a sopping wet dog Remus! Now get your stubborn ass off the floor right now and get ready! We have an Order meeting in an hour and if you are not there so help me Merlin I will come back here, wards be damned, and make you come! You can't avoid us forever!"

He groaned unhappily.

She glowered down, deciding to not leave just yet. "And you know what else Wolfy? You are the singularly, most selfish individual that I have ever met!"

"Mrmph..."

"Don't mrmph at me!" She practically shouted. "As if it's not bad enough for you to stay here, wallowing in self pity for two weeks, but you left me to talk to Harry for you! He deserved to see you there! Not me! Instead you hid here away from everyone acting like a baby!"

"Go. Away." He interjected moodily.

"NO I WON'T!" She screeched in a very un-Tonks-like fashion. "I am FAR from being DONE! I haven't even started on Kalliandra! Do you have any idea how much she probably needs you right now?"

He apparently had found something fascinating underneath the bed, because now he had taken to staring beneath it.

"She doesn’t need me. I nearly got her killed."

Tonks stomped again, very near his head. "You know that wasn't your fault Remus! No one knew what that spell would do!"

"You should go." He mumbled morosely. "I could still turn at any moment."

Her jaw dropped. "Is that what this self-induced isolation has been about? You think your going to turn again?"

When he didn't answer she actually laughed. "Remus you prat! You turned within an hour of being hit with that spell! Do you really think that it could possibly turn you again? Two weeks later no less!?"

"I can't risk it...."

"Well that's just too damn bad Wolfy because your going to." She didn't wait for a response and marched over to throw open his closet. She grabbed the nearest shirt and threw it at him. "Now go shower and get dressed. I don't have all day and so help me you are going to write to Harry and Kalliandra before we leave!"

He could be seen over his bed, fumbling with his shirt. "When we leave? Wasn't I kicking you out now?"

"I'd like to see you try. I'm not leaving because I don't feel like fighting with your wards again." She paused, and almost as an afterthought added, "And don't change the subject because you are writing to them!"

He shook his head, his shaggy hair falling around his eyes messily. It looked like he hadn't showered in days. "No. If they wanted to talk to me they would have...."

"Would have what?" She was far beyond losing her patience at this point. "Contacted you? Remus, Kalliandra tried! That damn pocket watch of yours has been glowing all week at headquarters! We tried sending it back to you but you keep sending it back! Kalliandra probably thinks your ignoring her by now and Harry..."

"Harry is safer if I stay away." Remus interjected, picking up his wand.

She growled in frustration and yanked the pocket watch out of her pocket. Mundungus had found it near one of the dead children after the attack.

"Well at least take this back Remus." She said, placing it on his worn desk. "I don't care what you say but she really does need you." She searched him for some sign that he accepted this fact, but he only leaned out the window and summoned his blanket back up.

Watching his pitiable movements, she suddenly felt like collapsing.

Remus had been the one she could count on, to hold together for her. Ever since Sirius...

She couldn't bear to think of it, let alone voice it, but ever since that wretched night she had grown to rely on Remus. She needed him so much it scared her.

It had been his cool, light brown eyes she had awoken to in St. Mungos. The healers said he had never left her side. Even then he refused, and took to sleeping on a make-shift cot in the corner or her room. He had claimed it was to not miss the fun of her griping, whenever the healers had poked and prodded her with their wands, but she had known better. He had been worried, and who could blame him when she had never felt worse.

But his presence had kept her thoughts from straying to Sirius.

She shuddered, remembering how he had found her curled up on her couch one night that summer, positively balling her eyes out, the few pictures of Sirius she had spread out on her coffee table. If only she had stunned Bellatrix when she had had the chance! By Merlin he would still be here!

With a cool cup of mocha Remus had sat with her, logically reminding her that hindsight is 20/20, and of the futility of blaming herself.

Catching the bastards was the only thing that could help Sirius now, he had told her. And as an auror, that would be her job. He had told her how she needed to hold together for that.

If he had not shown up when he had, she may have curled up in the nearest, damp broom closet, and not come out till Christmas.

She had passed out that night, vaguely suspicious that her mocha had been laced with dull firewhiskey. Remus always had claimed that alcohol assuaged the nerves....

She had only just realized how grateful she was for the small traces of humor he shared with her.

She had grown so used to him always being there, and it had taken Remus' absence to make her realize how much he meant to her.

Never again, did she want to experience another fortnight like the one she had just had without him.

The thought of him wallowing in self pity any longer made her physically ill, and she felt her shallow reserves of strength folding in.

She had to resist the urge to run over there and smack him.

She drew herself up, ignoring the pain prickling in her chest. "Harry does need you Remus." She started. "Your all he has left. Imagine how he'd feel if you shut him off now?"

Remus was flipping the comforter back onto the bed, straightening it meticulously. "He doesn't need me. Neither does Kally. They'll just wind up hurt..."

"Well damn't Remus! I need you!" She shot out, ignoring his shocked stare. "Don't you get that? I miss you! And I'm not the only one! Harry misses you! He sent me an owl because you haven't responded to his letters! I can only assume by that pile on your desk that you haven't read any of them yet! And you! You're just...."

She trailed off, frustration effectively silencing that train of thought.

"Go shower. I'll wait downstairs."

She turned in a huff and stormed out, resolving to send Harry and Kalliandra separate notes demanding that they pester Remus until he broke out of this self-created shell.

She missed the disbelieving eyes of a certain werewolf, following her longingly.
* * *


Harry allowed the book to fall closed. His head had long since fallen upon the table, his body slumped over in frustration. A thousand and one dark curses swirled through his mind, their counter curses eluding his memory in