Erm… You might want to read the first few chapters again, in case you've forgotten…

Chapter 12

Aftermath

It was a dark and stormy night. The house was situated at the very edge of a sheer cliff. It remained a dark shape to the eye easily mistaken as a part of the cliff, except when it was brilliantly illuminated by the flashes of occasional lightning. Dark and foreboding, it emanated a sense of menace and danger, only the reckless and foolhardy would venture near it. Not entirely dark really, there was one room from which a very faint light could be seen…

At first sight, the room was an ordinary one. Rather bare, a table and a few chairs… that was all the furniture there was. A couple of wide windows were set to the side. They were closed, but a few gusts of wind managed to enter the room, bringing inside the cold from outside. The only sounds that could be heard were that of waves crashing on the jagged rocks at the bottom of the cliff. Dark clouds were gathered in the sky outside… a storm was brewing. A rather ordinary room… one might even feel sorry for the unfortunate soul who had to stay in it during a storm…

Then again, a few things stood out. A magnificent throne sat majestically at the end of the room, right between the two windows. The only source of light came from a few flickering candles, illuminating the rather drab-looking paintings which hung on the walls, ones any art collector would gladly pay a fortune for. It was rather eerie, giant shadows formed on the walls, and disappeared just as quickly as they were formed. Due to the unique and no doubt well thought out position of the throne, it, and therefore the person sitting on it, could be seen clearly only the lightning flashed outside.

Lord Voldemort was sitting on the throne, tapping the arm rest in an almost bored manner. His scarlet slit-like eyes however, were watching the two figures huddled on the floor before him with all the intensity of a snake about to attack it's prey. The two shivering figures seemed to sense the eyes that were boring into their heads, for they kept their heads well bowed.

"Bella," he finally spoke in a low whisper, "Why don't you tell me what happened today?"

Bellatrix didn't look up, to her credit, her voice was steady, despite knowing what was to come. "My lord… he was there…"

Voldemort cut in smoothly, "I thought you knew better than to lie, Bella… the old fool was at Azkaban, we even had a little chat…"

"No, my lord," she took a deep breath, "Harry Potter was there…"

From her limited range of vision, she could make out that Voldemort had risen, and had walked slowly towards her.

"Rise," he hissed softly. Bellatrix stood up as slowly as she dared, wincing when the wounds on her chest flared in pain as the skin stretched. A long cold finger touched her chin, and forced her to look up, meeting her master's eyes. The merciless red eyes stared into her own, and there was a prickling sensation at the back of her head. Bellatrix automatically brought her Occlumency shields to bear, but Voldemort broke through them effortlessly. Scenes from the Diagon Alley attack flashed before her eyes, as Voldemort delved through her memories. He was not gentle, he ignored the flinches caused by her occasional pangs of discomfort. Finally, he let go.

"So… you're back, Potter…" thought Voldemort, "Where were you, and where did you learn a dark curse like that, one that even I did not know? And why is it that I could not feel your presence for eight long months? What have you done to yourself, boy?"

He broke off his train of thought, as he contemplated the trembling woman before him. Oh yes, she would be punished, and she knew it as well…

"I see you enjoyed a few minutes of conversation with the boy, Bella… Why did you deem it necessary to talk to him, to rile him up? And why did you not come to me immediately upon my returning from Azkaban?"

The Death Eater who hadn't spoken so far stirred. "My lord…" he began.

"I did not give you permission to speak, Dawson!"

Poor Dawson, Bellatrix thought sympathetically, he would pay for his insolence. She half hoped that he would continue to speak, perhaps then her punishment would be lessened, but Dawson remained silent, completely subdued.

There was no use telling Voldemort that she was unconscious, and had woken up barely five minutes ago, he simply did not accept such excuses. Bellatrix settled for looking down at the floor silently. Voldemort appeared deep in thought. She fought the urge to fidget, this waiting was far worse than the actual punishment.

"Hold out your arm, Bella."

Voldemort pressed one almost impossibly long finger at a particular location on her upper left arm. Bellatrix gritted her teeth, not wanting to cry out. In some corner of her mind, she wondered who was being summoned. She thought she knew the answer…

The pain stopped. Ironically, the punishment just beginning, for Voldemort had stepped back from her slightly. She didn't dare to look, but she knew that there would be a slightly mad look in her master's eyes… the look he always got at the prospect of torturing someone.

"Potter practically delivered himself to your hands, for the SECOND time. And you let him go!" Bellatrix closed her eyes and braced herself.

"CRUCIO!"

Far away, halfway across Britain, Harry Potter woke up…

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Harry woke up with a start, sweat dripping off his forehead and his heart racing. He touched his scar lightly, it was stinging rather badly. He put his face in his hands, the visions still passing through his eyes, He was Voldemort! Bellatrix Lestrange, he had been torturing her… The dream had been so real, and the truly scary part was that he was able to actually hear the person's thoughts as they bounced around inside his head. It almost felt as though there was some sort of Legilimency at work. He had felt the man's reactions to the news that he had received, he had felt the enormous, just barely controlled rage at the sound of the name Potter. And… even though Voldemort hadn't told that Lestrange woman which Death Eater he was summoning… he knew… he knew that it was Snape. His eyes widened for a minute… Snape… that greasy git of a potion master was a spy! He had to tell someone in the Order…

He was halfway out of the bed, when he stopped. It was just a dream, he told himself. A very realistic dream, but still, just a dream… Snape was no spy, just another ugly teacher at Hogwarts…

He peered around for a moment, trying to calm himself down, the room was dark, but he was pretty sure that he was back at Grimmauld Place.

The door creaked open slowly, a shaft of light falling right on his face. Harry blinked at the sudden light, he could make out someone's head at the door, he couldn't make out who it was. "Harry?"

"What?" he snapped, his voice sharp with an anger that was not his.

An anger that was not his? Harry blinked again, why was he still feeling angry? The dream was over, done with… but it seemed to have lingering effects. The voice came again however, sounded apologetic, "Sorry about that, Harry dear, I didn't mean to startle you." There was a swish of a wand, and a few lamps that were hung from the ceiling glowed suddenly, emitting a dim light. Harry could now make out Molly Weasley standing uncertainly at the doorway.

"Are you all right, Harry?" she asked in a concerned tone. Harry took a deep breath, forcing his abnormal anger to dissipate. When he spoke, he was relieved to find that his voice was normal, "I'm fine, Mrs. Weasley." Events that occurred in Diagon Alley flooded his mind all of a sudden and he gasped, "Where are the others? Are they all right?"

Mrs. Weasley smiled, "They're all perfectly fine dear. We've been worried about you actually. Why don't you freshen up and come downstairs? Dinner's ready."

"Dinner?"

"It's almost eight in the evening, Harry. We let you sleep, you know… In any case, don't take too long dear, I'll tell everyone the good news…" With that, Mrs. Weasley bustled off.

Harry sat up and got off the bed slowly. His scar had stopped hurting, and he found himself wondering whether the dream had just been that after all… a dream. He looked down at himself, someone had removed his robes and had dressed him in pyjamas, the dirty old brown robe he had been wearing earlier that day (or at least, he thought it was the same day), had been cleaned and hung over the back of a chair.

He looked around the room, it was far bigger than the one he and Ron had been sharing, with a double bed, comfortable and sturdy armchairs, and yes, there seemed to be an attached bathroom as well. Harry stretched with a huge yawn, the joints in his back and elbows cracking. He stepped inside the bathroom, looking for a toothbrush, when he caught sight of himself in the mirror.

"Looks like the potion worked," he muttered, taking off his shirt.

Outwardly, he hadn't changed all that much, his features were still the same, though he was pretty sure he had grown a few inches. The main difference was that his ribs could no longer be seen, neither were his arms wasted and thin, as they had been in Azkaban, they now had a wiry strength he was sure was never there before. He bent down to touch his toes, and to his surprise, he was able to do so easily. Hmm, an athlete's body, eh?

Realizing that he felt really hungry, for he hadn't had lunch, he brushed his teeth quickly and had just finished putting on his robe, when the door opened. Ron's stuck his head in. "He's decent," he called out behind him, and crossed the room in quick strides, grinning like a madman, Hermione and Ginny right behind him. Harry returned the smile, was clapped on the back by Ron, hugged by Hermione and Ginny, and a confused babble arose, when everyone tried to speak at once. After he assured them that he felt fine, they wanted to know what exactly had happened.

Harry smiled and raised his hands in surrender, "Let's eat first, okay? I haven't eaten in…" he checked his watch, "Nearly twelve hours. Where are Neville and Luna, by the way?"

"They've gone home. Neville's granny and Luna's dad were really worried about them. They'll be back soon," Hermione explained.

"What about your parents?" he asked her. To his surprise, Hermione reddened slightly. "Umm, I've haven't really told them about what happened today. They're dentists, you know… Muggles. They don't understand the wizarding world very well, and I… I really don't want them worrying about me."

Meanwhile, Ginny was looking at him, a small frown on her face. "Harry, have you grown taller?"

Harry grinned happily, "Yeah, it's only a couple of inches, I didn't think anyone would notice, really. It's because of the potion," he added, spotting Ron's confused expression.

Hermione pursed her lips disapprovingly. Harry knew that she didn't like the idea of buying illegal potions, so he told her, "It was really thanks to this potion that I survived, you know? I'm really thankful that I bought it."

"Yes, but Mendel's going to be in for it when Dumbledore gets wind of it," said Hermione grimly. Harry didn't really feel like telling them that Mendel was now in a place where angels with halos played soft tunes on harps, or in the more likely event, a rather warm place where he would probably meet a larger version of Fluffy… and way beyond Dumbledore's reach in either case…

No one else joined them for dinner, it was just the four of them and Mrs. Weasley. Harry ate hungrily, more than he had ever eaten before. Lupin and Tonks, Mrs. Weasley informed him, were busy with Order work, but were perfectly all right. He also learned from her that Diagon Alley had been closed down temporarily, until the repair work was finished and the security revamped.

No one bothered Harry for information while he gorged down the food, so dinner somewhat peaceful, until the appearance of an owl with the Evening Prophet.

Hermione fished out a Knut from her purse, and handed it to the owl, which flew away. She took a draught of Butterbeer, which proved to be unfortunate, as she spat it out after taking one look and the headlines…

Ron paused in his chewing to comment thoughtfully, "And she tells me I don't have table manners…"

"Listen to this," Hermione hissed, and proceeded to read from the paper. "Azkaban freed…"

"WHAT?"

"Oh, shut up and listen," she continued rather testily, "In a hastily called press conference today afternoon at the Ministry of Magic, the official spokesman broke the startling news that the dreaded Azkaban prison had been broken into by You-Know-Who himself. Several inmates, some of them life interns, have reportedly been freed. These include several well-known Death Eaters, Antonin Dolohov, Amycus and Alecto Carrows and the Malfoy father and son pair…"

Harry couldn't help himself, "Malfoy's free?"

"Yes," said Hermione shortly, and continued, "It is reported that many Aurors were killed in the Azkaban take over today, although exact numbers aren't known. A senior source at the Ministry informs us that the supreme Mugwump, Albus Dumbledore himself made an appearance at the battle, and dueled with You-Know-Who, giving the remaining Aurors time to evacuate the island when defeat seemed imminent, thus preventing a full-scale massacre. Albus Dumbledore was unavailable for comment, as was Minister Scrimgeour."

I thought you knew better than to lie, Bella… the old fool was at Azkaban, we even had a little chat…

Those were Voldemort's very words in his dream. Could it have been a coincidence? Hardly. That meant that the dream was true, but how was this possible? Perhaps he had some Seer blood in him? Or perhaps there were consequences of the curse that failed that he hadn't known about… The thought that Voldemort and he shared a mental link terrified him. A tense knot began to build up in his stomach, if it was this easy for him to enter Voldemort's mind, it was highly probable that Voldemort could access his as well… The thought that he had managed to repel Dumbledore's Legilimency effort did not make him feel any better… he had been awake and fully alert then, and the old man hadn't been trying very hard anyway. And they didn't share the level of… for a better word, closeness that he and Voldemort did…

He became aware that someone was shaking his shoulder. "Harry, are you all right? You seemed…"

He cut Ginny off with a smile, "I'm okay. I was just thinking how lucky I was that this didn't happen a week ago…" A week ago (had it only been a week?), he was in the stone cell of his, and if Voldemort had attacked Azkaban then, there would have been little he could have done, except perhaps throw a dead rat or two at him…

They were still looking at him worriedly, so he cast about hurriedly for a change of subject. "Mrs. Weasley, could you cut my hair after dinner?" He thought for a moment that the woman was going to embrace him, crying in happiness, but thankfully she didn't. "It got in the way during the fight," he explained to the others.

It almost worked, but Hermione chose that moment to gasp loudly, Harry leaned over a little bit and caught a glimpse of the page she was reading. There was a large photo of… himself, and by the looks of it, it had been taken a few years before, in… he blinked, a dusty room full of brooms and cobwebs? In any case, that meant…

'HARRY POTTER FOUND?" Hermione read out loud. "According to eyewitnesses, Harry Potter was spotted in Diagon Alley after being reportedly missing for eight months." Ron interrupted, pointing a long finger at the paper, he had moved around behind Hermione for a better view, "Look, the little bugger made it to the paper as well." Sure enough, there was a small photograph of a gleeful Fortescue in his ruined shop. Hermione spread the paper out on the table, Harry scanned through the article…

Harry blushed slightly as he read. According to Fortescue, who gave a blow by blow narrative of what had happened, there had been atleast a hundred Death Eaters whose sole aim had been to destroy his shop and everyone in it. Harry had also apparently said and done things he was sure he was incapable of, such as felling ten Death Eaters with a single spell. Fortescue confessed to have blacked out when the Dementors came, but was sure that Harry had something to do with their disappearance in any case.

"Well," he said, unsure of what to say, "I… I didn't do anything of that sort, of course." Ron sniggered a little, but clapped him on his back, "Relax, mate. Atleast you didn't make the front page."

Hermione was frowning. "It isn't funny, Ron. Now Voldemort knows that Harry is alive and well…" Harry opened his mouth to interrupt that Voldemort didn't need the Prophet to tell him that, Bellatrix had done so herself, but he closed his mouth. He didn't want to worry the others about the potential danger he was in. Perhaps he had best talk to Dumbledore about the mental connection. He didn't want to do it of course, but the fact remained that the man was undoubtedly wise and knowledgeable about these matters and would know what to do.

"And," Hermione continued, "You're lucky Fortescue didn't mention that you were Apparating all over the place, despite the wards that were placed. And that curse you used, I've never heard of a curse like that, but it seemed pretty D…"

"Any idea how I did that?" Harry interrupted loudly, "The Apparating thing I mean." He gave a meaningful glance at her, he didn't want Mrs. Weasley to know he had used a Dark curse, although it had been against Lestrange…

Hermione frowned but gave in, "I have no idea," she said irritably. Harry suspected it cost her a lot to say that. "I'll ask Professor Dumbledore…"

Mrs. Weasley interrupted at that point, from her still so far, Harry gathered that she had been aware of the Azkaban break-out, as well as the article in the paper about him. One of the perks of being a member of the Order of the Phoenix, he supposed…

"Albus wanted to see you as soon as you were awake and had eaten, Harry. To discuss today's events. And before you ask, you three are allowed as well…"

Ron gave a whoop of joy, but Harry frowned, this was expected, but it was a troublesome business… Ah well, he had to talk to him about the dream in any case. After today, Harry held no illusions as to who was the bigger threat between Dumbledore and Voldemort. The way the Death Eaters had reacted to his presence, he needed Dumbledore's help for now… a truce was called for.

"When is it?" he asked Mrs. Weasley.

"In fifteen minutes. I informed him as soon as you were awake," she added needlessly, as she waved her wand at his empty plate which went shooting off towards the sink. She held up necklace she was wearing. Harry took a closer look, the round pendant seemed ordinary at first, but then he could make out the faint outline of a phoenix…

"It's based on Hermione's idea, really," she said, shooting a fond glance at her. Hermione turned pink with pleasure. Spotting Harry's confused look, she elaborated, "For the DA, dear. These necklaces turn warm when Dumbledore contacts us, and the time appears on it as well."

Harry nodded, it was a good idea. The robes which witches and wizards tended to wear would make sure the phoenix necklace was hidden from view at all times. And Dumbledore would have obviously charmed it to ensure that no one would be able to use it apart from the one it was intended for… But then, he frowned suddenly as the thought struck him.

"So… the entire Order's going to be there?"

Mrs. Weasley nodded. Harry somehow got the idea that she wasn't very pleased about it.

Harry excused himself and went upstairs to the bathroom. He looked at the mirror, pondering over his options. What was he to do now?

He held no illusions about Dumbledore, he was suspicious of him, no doubt, but on the other hand, he didn't think the old man meant him any harm. He smiled a little at the thought of what Dumbledore would be thinking of him at the moment. He had verified for himself that Harry had lost his memories, but Dumbledore knew now that he, Harry had skills he never had before. Thanks to the display of Hypnotism at his office the other day… 'Ah well,' he thought as he fingered his wand lovingly, 'It was well worth it.'

He wondered what Dumbledore would say when he found that Harry had actually killed someone in Diagon Alley. Surely he would understand that he had no other option? But what of the Dark curse, Sectumsempra? Harry had no idea why he had used the curse, the Lestrange woman, her words had made him extremely angry and he had snapped, giving in to his rage… 'Not to mention he thinks I might have gone dark,' he thought moodily, knowing that the day's events weren't going to get him into Dumbledore's good books.

He had killed a Death Eater, and the others didn't know yet! A cold hand seemed to clutch at his heart. Would they understand when they found out? It was a terrible thing to do, and he wasn't proud of it, but he would do it again if the situation called for it… his friends were much more important than some Death Eater scum, right? He was a little startled that he was thinking so rationally about it, ought he to feel a little more sorry, a little more ashamed of what he had done? Ought he to worry more about what others thought of the deed, rather than what he thought of it himself?

He decided that he would cooperate with Dumbledore at the moment, he needed his help and protection, with Voldemort after him with a vengeance. He had to talk to him about their mental connection, and he needed to get into the Chamber of Secrets anyway. But how to lessen his suspicions? His brow cleared suddenly as he thought of the solution. Snape! If Harry exposed the spy in their midst… yes, that ought to do it… He had no evidence except for the dream, but he hoped that Dumbledore wouldn't laugh at him. Was it possible to put the dream in a Pensieve? Even if it were possible, would they be able to hear Voldemort's thoughts?

He went downstairs slowly, the doorbell rang, and the house was once again filled with that old hag's screams. He stopped short meeting the eyes of the man who stood at the bottom of the stairs. He recognized him at the same moment that the man seemed to recognize him. He had seen the man in the Pensieve before, in Ron and Hermione's memories of their first year…

"Potter," the man spat out, his face twisted in the familiar look of loathing and contempt. The man who had made his life at Hogwarts hell, or so Ron said anyway…

Harry smiled slightly, this meeting was going to get interesting. He gripped his wand beneath his robes and was relieved to see that Moody and a few other cloaked figures were lounging by the dining room door. Not that Snape would be able to take him out easily if it came to a fight, but it was good to know that there was backup nearby…

"You must be Snake," he said loudly, drawing everyone's attention towards them. "Ron and Hermione told me about you."

Snape's features twisted even more if that were possible, and his skin was no longer the colour of parchment, there was a slight tinge of red on his cheeks. "If that were so, Potter, then you would know that my name is Severus Snape, and it's Professor Snape to you."

Harry waved his hand casually, "Oh yeah, Snape. I forgot."

A vein throbbed at the side of the man's forehead, and his voice when it came, was a little more than a whisper. "You know as well as I do, that your whole amnesia business is nothing more than a fairy tale! If I had my way…"

"If you had your way," Harry interrupted him. "But sadly, it isn't always possible to get what one wants, is it? If only Voldemort learnt that lesson years ago," he shook his head sorrowfully, "We wouldn't be having so much trouble at our hands, would we now?"

"You're lucky Dumbledore believes you," Snape hissed dangerously, "But I know you're no golden boy. Using Dark curses at a young age, it's…" he smirked, "unforgivable…"

From the slight gasp that arose from the very interested audience, Harry knew this was news to most of them. "Never used an Unforgivable before, eh Snape?" he asked cheerfully, a smile still on his face. It was a shot in the dark, but it seemed to hit it's mark. From the look of murderous rage on Snape's face, Harry was sure that he was going to curse him. Moody seemed to be about to step in, but a cheerful voice cut through the tense atmosphere.

"Everyone's here I see. Excellent!" Dumbledore beamed. Noticing him at the top of the stairs, he continued, "Ah, Harry! I trust today's events have not left any scars, physical or otherwise?"

"I'm fine, Professor Dumbledore."

"I'm glad to hear it," Dumbledore smiled. "Now if you will, it is approaching the hour, we shall begin the meeting of the Order of the Phoenix."

Completely ignoring the expression on his Potion master's face, he swept regally into the dining room. Snape muttered something inaudible under his breath and followed him. The others followed, still looking uncertainly between Harry and Snape's retreating back.

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A/N: I have the sneaky feeling I might have made a couple of mistakes here… Lemme know if you find anything that seems wrong, would you?