Warning Signs Read Desolation

Disclaimer: I solemnly swear I do not own the published masterpiece of Harry Potter. I also do not write and publish this story to earn any sort of profit. I simply do it because I need to.

Claimer: I do, however, own and take full responsibility for this twisted story.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

PREVIOUSLY

Severus was taken out of his cell to see Voldemort, who forced him into an Unbreakable Vow, forcing him to swear that he would strive to redeem himself, cure Bellatrix, and kill Dumbledore. Afterwards, he was taken to Bellatrix's room and immediately set to work.

Harry was reunited with Ron and Hermione, whom he successfully fooled into thinking he was all but sad to be back at Hogwarts. Harry, for his part, learned that his friends had never given up on him, but had kept looking for him without anybody knowing about it.

In the middle of the night, Harry was awoken by Dobby, who said he had come to rescue him.

Outside of the carefully maintained Hospital Wing, the castle's stone corridors lay cold and desolate, cast in the deepest of darkness. Keeping as quiet as he could, Harry made sure to stay a little way behind the tail of Dobby's flapping cloak, just in case they ran into someone.

The first thing to do when entering a room, Harry thought, nervously looking this way and that, is to find your entrances and exits. Heart hammering in his chest, his ears straining to pick up the barest sound, he looked first over his shoulder and then further ahead. There's where we came from – I suppose Madam Pomfrey's asleep in her room somewhere close to the Hospital Wing. There are some doors along the corridor, but I suppose those are just classrooms or storage rooms, so no-one should come from there. But I suppose they could come from further down the corridor … There are no fireplaces and it's impossible to Apparate inside Hogwarts, and I don't suppose they'll be crashing through the windows ... we'll soon be at the Grand Staircase …

A sudden set of dull bangs and a resounding crash made him whip around and raise his wand at the dark opening he'd come from. Barely daring to breathe, he backed slowly away from the Hospital Wing, taking in the eerie quiet that had followed the sharp sounds as he felt behind him for Dobby.

"Mr Harry Potter, sir," the elf hissed behind him as his hand closed around what felt like one of Dobby's floppy ears. "Careful, you must follow Dobby –"

The sudden rustle as a dark shape tore out of the doorway had Dobby shrieking in fright. A series of Stunning Spells left Harry's wand, zooming red over and around the surprisingly small shape, which didn't stop but came straight at him, as though seeing right through the Invisibility Cloak.

Blindly, Harry stumbled backwards, holding his arms up in front of his face. Just as the thing dug its small talons into his left forearm, unexpectedly, a soothing feeling radiated into him and made him pause.

"Wait!" James exclaimed just as the eyes of the ink black raven flashed red.

"Master?" Harry whispered in disbelief and stared as the raven gave a very slow nod before spreading its wings and leaping in one graceful movement from his arm over to his shoulder, where it poked its beak under Harry's cloak and covered itself with it.

Feeling the comforting weight of his master on his left shoulder, Harry felt a surge of confidence as he turned to urge Dobby to get them going – but the elf was staring up at him with a horrified expression.

"Dobby?" Harry hissed as loudly as he dared. "What is it?"

Shakily, the elf pointed up at where the raven had hid, his eyes big as saucers. "Did Harry Potter say … 'master'?"

"No," Harry lied, heart hammering against his ribcage. "No, I … That's not what I said."

It was clear by the look in his eyes that Dobby didn't believe a word of that, but was anxiously twinning his hands together and shaking his head. "No … But Dobby promised … promised to do Dobby's best … His old masters … but Dobby is a free elf now … Dobby can do it. Mr Harry Potter should choose … but then … but then … he'd be going back, after everything … not there, not that place … anywhere would be better … It's not right … It's not right!" Pressing his huge eyes together, Dobby started hitting his own head with his fists. "It's not right! It's not right! Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!"

"Dobby!" Harry hissed between his clenched teeth, casting a worried glance behind him at the distant sound of voices coming from the Grand Staircase. "Come on, we need to go! Now!"

Obviously hearing the voices approaching too, the elf stilled with a strange expression, looking up at Harry's hidden face with lowered ears. "No," he whimpered and shook his head so that his ears flapped. Then, unexpectedly, his mouth opened wide in a piercing shriek. "HELP! UP HERE! HE'S UP HERE! HE'S ESCAPING!"

With deadly intent, the bird swept off Harry's shoulder, its talons outstretched as it dived at Dobby's head and scratched. The elf screamed bloody murder, and to the growing clamour from the staircases Harry shakily raised his wand and whispered "Stupefy!"

Breathlessly, and decidedly not looking at the stunned and scratched elf, Harry broke into a run, backtracking down the winding corridor, flying past the Hospital Wing and continuing down the opposite end of the corridor. The sound of voices and footfalls soon grew quieter as he ran, and he guessed that whomever was chasing him had found Dobby. In an effort not to make too much noise, Harry slowed down into a brisk walk, and hurriedly covered his mouth against a startled scream when the raven zoomed past his left shoulder and ahead down the dark corridor.

"Run!" James urged as the clamour rose behind him once more. "There's no other way you could have gone, so there's no point in trying to hide."

But I'm invisible, Harry thought as he bolted down the corridor, passing door after door as he followed close behind the raven.

"Yes but some wizards can see through Disillusionments and even Invisibility Cloaks!"

With a sickening churn to his stomach, Harry remembered the disfigured man from the forest, and how he'd had no apparent difficulty finding him behind that tree trunk.

"POTTER!" a deep male voice shouted from behind him, and fearfully twisting his head around, Harry saw a tall and strong-looking black wizard round the corner at break-neck speed. "STAY WHERE YOU ARE!"

Harry didn't. Running more quickly than he'd ever done during any of Dudley's Harry Hunting sessions, he came out on the opposite side of the Grand Staircase, staring at the raven, which quickly swooped down towards the Ground Floor and into the darkness. Not thinking, Harry recklessly leapt onto a moving set of stairs that was on the way downwards, and landed painfully on his hip. Biting his teeth together and disregarding the instantly blossoming ache, he got back up on his feet and fearfully looked up to the arched doorway, where the pursuers appeared one by one.

Hit with a rush in inspiration, not knowing whether the recollection of his first lesson with Voldemort came from James or from himself, Harry raised his wand, pointed it over the heads of the Order members and whispered "Diffindo!"

With a great clatter, one of the room's enormous and ancient wrought iron chandeliers broke free from its bonds and crashed down to the floor. The brown-haired woman and Mr Lupin threw themselves to the ground, but the dark-skinned wizard made a swiping movement with his wand, and the chandelier flew off the side of the ledge before it could do any damage.

But by then, Harry had reached the bottom of the staircase and was running once more, following closely behind the raven, feeling a rush of triumph as he reached the Entrance Hall and caught sight of the grand gates leading to the Hogwarts Grounds. Just a little more, he thought as he ran, his footsteps echoing eerily in the vast and cold room.

He had reached the middle of the hall when the huge doors suddenly split open, and as he faltered into a halt, he saw a man step over the threshold and dismissively flick his wand at the raven as he lazily, almost boredly, drawled "Excoquam a Peccatum." A gust of swirling air flew at the bird and around it, and instantly, it went lax and fell with a dull thud to the cold stone floor.

"NO!" tore out of Harry's throat as he raised his wand and started backing away. He keenly kept his eyes locked on the wizard, but the man didn't look back at him. Instead, he flashed a terrifying smile, visible under his long silver goatee, and started undoing the straps of his garnet red travelling cloak.

"Hello Harry," he said in a surprisingly aged voice, clashing with his sharp blue gaze and agile posture. At his feet, the raven stirred and flapped its wings until it was back upon its feet. Then, with the startled movements of a wild animal, it took off into the air and swept hurriedly out through the open door behind the wizard.

With a hateful glare, Harry took a bold step forwards, desperation making him blindly disregard Voldemort's words, echoing over and over in his head. You would flee. You always flee. You are much too important to risk getting overpowered, captured or killed.

"Petrificus Totalus!"

Laughing coldly, the man finally looked at him and simply threw up a Shield Charm, making the spell ricochet back at its caster, whom it hit with deadly accuracy. Freezing up, Harry fell headlong to the floor, and landed painfully on his back with no means at all to move an inch.

"Silly boy," the man said as his slow footfalls came closer and closer. "Where are you trying to run? Hm? Back to your kidnapper, I suppose?" With another swipe of the wizard's wand, the strap of the Invisibility Cloak flew open, and the fabric unfolded so that it lay under his frozen body, completely useless.

Eyes clouded with hatred for the man who got in his way – who appeared out of nowhere – Harry listened as he came closer and finally stood over him with an utterly disinterested look on his face. "What happened to this place that they cannot even keep one silly little boy in check?" he muttered to himself as he peeled off his brown leather gloves, working quickly and yet methodically, pulling at one finger at the time.

Harry wanted to snap back – to bite and kick – but remained frozen in place, staring up at the ceiling with a constant snarl on his face, mind running amok with vicious thoughts. Who was this man? What did he want? And where had he come from in the middle of the night?

A clatter was heard from the staircase behind them, and with a deep sigh, the man murmured out of the corner of his mouth. "Now there's the babysitters."

"Sir!" a female voice called, and the sound of rushing feet echoed in the vast room. "Did you see a boy?"

"He's right here," the wizard announced listlessly and took a step out of Harry's line of vision.

"Harry!" a male voice Harry vaguely recognised called, and a moment later, a harried Mr Lupin appeared kneeling by his side. "Are you hurt?" When no answer was forthcoming, Lupin twisted his head around to look up at the older wizard. "Is he hurt?" he repeated urgently.

"He was merely hit by his own Petrification Curse. He is right as rain, I'm sure."

Lupin's concerned expression twisted into a scowl, and after he had waved his wand and muttered "Finite!", he dug a generous piece of chocolate out of his robe pocket at held it out at Harry, who ignored it in favour of debating whether or not he could chance rushing for the door before it closed.

"It's too late," James dictated solemnly. "We'll find another way."

With a defeated sigh, Harry carefully took the chocolate with a murmured "Thanks," and grabbed hold of the Invisibility Cloak before arising.

"What in Merlin's name were you trying to do?" Mr Lupin asked with a deeply concerned face, laying a hand on Harry's shoulder that was probably supposed to be comforting, but which Harry merely found restrictive.

"An excellent question, Remus," a merry voice said, and looking over at the arched doorway leading to the Grand Staircase, Harry saw Professor Dumbledore, closely followed by the wizard who had chased him down the corridors. "But one that can wait until the morning, I think. Ah, Nicolas!" Dumbledore suddenly exclaimed, looking with surprise at the completely disinterested wizard standing a little away from the others, brushing lint away from the travelling cloak in his arms.

"Good evening, Albus," he drawled and stepped forwards. "I'd hoped to get here sooner, but Perenelle insisted I rest." He gave a little chuckle. "I'm sure she'll be in a right fit when she gets here – tomorrow, as we had planned."

"Ah, so you have recovered, I hope?" Dumbledore replied merrily, to which Nicolas – whom Harry, remembering at once his research on the Philosopher's Stone, supposed had to be Nicolas Flamel – scoffed.

"There's no need for concern; I have been inhabiting a body not my own for weeks. This one is perfectly healthy."

"Eat," Mr Lupin murmured softly at Harry and gave his shoulder a short squeeze. "You'll feel better."

Looking down at the floor, faking remorse, Harry nibbled on the rather large chunk of food and felt, at once, a rush of warmth spread in trickles all down his body.

"Feel better," Flamel scoffed and, timidly looking up, Harry saw the narrow-eyed sneer sent in his direction. "What nonsense is this? That boy should be behind locks and bars. Don't tell me you've been coddling him?"

Stunned silence reigned for a moment before Lupin straightened and puffed out his chest. "Harry has been through quite the ordeal. He needs care and guidance…"

Lupin broke off at Flamel's cold laugh, and Harry felt a sting of panic, watching the ancient wizard shake his head. "You deluded fools. I have watched that boy trail after Lord Voldemort like an infatuated puppy. He's been taking lessons, sitting in on meetings and participated in dark rituals, which included the brutal sacrifice of a young wizard who had not yet had the chance to grow into his hat."

"All very terrible things young Harry have had to live through, no doubt," Dumbledore said calmly with a serene smile which, despite it all, made Harry's racing heart slow its rhythm.

With a derisive sneer, Flamel scoffed and shook his head. "Have it your way, Albus. It's your student."

Dumbledore merely kept smiling, before gesturing towards the staircases with a great sweeping movement of his left arm. "Your chambers have been prepared. Mr Filch, here –" From behind one great stone pillar in the end of the room the skulking caretaker appeared, sharp-eyed cat at his side. "– will take you there, and see that you have everything you need."

"Very well," Flamel said and moved towards Filch, who had already slipped away towards the Grand Staircase.

Once passing Professor Dumbledore, Flamel paused and gave his friend a hard, meaningful glare. "At least talk some sense into the boy if you will not punish him. Mark my words, Albus; that boy is not as innocent as he might seem."

"I find," Dumbledore responded serenely, "that very few people are just as they seem from outward appearance alone; an observation to which Harry is, certainly, by no means exempt."

For a moment, it looked like Flamel was about to snap in anger, but then, his expression cleared and he gave an amused little chuckle before starting to walk again. "Goodnight, Albus!" he called as he went.

"Goodnight, Nicolas," Dumbledore called softly back before turning to the group of Order members, gathered in a triangle around Harry. "It is late, my friends, and I suggest you all turn in for the night."

"What about Potter?" the rumbling dark voice of the muscly wizard questioned.

"Oh, Harry is quite safe," Dumbledore said, giving a wink at Harry, "no need to worry. Walk with me, Harry." With an expectant expression, Dumbledore held out his right arm in a beckoning gesture, waiting until Harry had stepped up to him before placing his hand gently at the base of his neck and leading him towards the staircases.

As they travelled up the moving stairs, Dumbledore eventually let go of him and walked a few paces ahead, not uttering a sound. At the second floor, the old headmaster lead the way into the corridor and, following a little behind, Harry looked this way and that, trying to find any plausible escape-rout to keep in mind. It was while doing this that his eyes landed on something quite startling. A short gasp escaped him, but he quickly looked away so as not to alert Dumbledore to the little girl trailing sneakily behind them through the paintings lining the walls. Hope surged alive in his chest, and while Dumbledore cheerfully declared "Bubble-gum!" to a gargoyle, which promptly jumped aside to reveal a spinning staircase, Harry started plotting how to get a chance to speak to her alone.

Upon entering Professor Dumbledore's office for the first time, Harry couldn't help at once comparing it to Voldemort's. In space and shape, it was indeed very similar; both of them situated in a stone tower. Just like Harry's master, Dumbledore kept shelves and cupboards full of odd trinkets and heavy tomes. In the centre of the room, with the chair facing the door, stood a great wooden desk. However, there was no circular table in the middle of the room, and no comfortable blue sofa-group by the fireplace. Neither was there a set of six tanks housing thirty deadly little creatures.

There was one creature though. On a perch by one of the windows sat a regally golden phoenix, looking at him with rather sad eyes. Similarly, covering the entire wall above and around the door were portraits of old wizards and witches, whom were, also, watching him.

Attempting to ignore all sets of eyes, Harry took a seat in the wooden chair in front of the desk and kept his eyes stubbornly locked on his own hands as the headmaster sat down in turn.

"July 23rd, 1938, I believe it was," Dumbledore said slowly, breaking the silence. Hesitantly, Harry looked up. Dumbledore smiled. "The day I first met Tom Riddle."

Despite himself, Harry swiped his tongue over his dry lips once and sat up straighter.

"A dreary Thursday, just before the start of war. I believe it was raining … He lived at an orphanage outside of London; Wool's Orphanage, set up in a former, rather run-down, textile factory." As he leaned back in his chair, Dumbledore's eyes grew distant, and he looked off to the side in reminiscence. "I had just made Deputy Headmaster and was quite eager to prove myself." His lips quirked. "It is the task of the Deputy Headmaster to supervise the applications and acceptances at Hogwarts, and so I was to visit with all of the soon-to-be First Years who were yet unaware of the Magical World. Tom Riddle was one such child."

"You gave him his letter?" Harry breathed out. "Like Hagrid gave me mine?"

"Not quite in the same manner," Dumbledore said with a chuckle. "I did not endeavour to chase the poor boy to a desolate island and knock his door down. No. But I did give him his Acceptance Letter, yes."

"What was he like?" Harry hastened to ask, eager to learn more about his master; wondering how he had acted when Harry's own age, and why it was that Voldemort had, on more than one occasion, claimed that they were so very similar.

Dumbledore eyed him carefully. "Lonely," he decided on after a short moment's contemplation. "An outcast. The matron warned me about him before my visit, claiming that he wasn't like the other children, and that he frightened them."

"Because he had magic?"

Dumbledore's gentle smile took on a sad tint. "Yes … and no. It was rather the way he chose to use that magic, rather than the fact that he had it."

"Because he's always been able to use it as he likes," Harry concluded, memories of conversations with his master flitting through his mind.

"There are, however, some children who learn how to control their subconscious; who can direct their mana flow by will and cast spells without a wand."

"You have this sort of magic!"

"Indeed."

"It appeared so," Dumbledore agreed calmly. "He was quite gifted, already at that age, but according to the matron – absolutely awful woman –" Dumbledore added with a reminiscent grin, as though her awfulness was something he recalled with fondness, "he deliberately punished those he disliked, or who had somehow caused him harm."

"My caretakers were highly religious, and when they heard from the other children that I had done something 'unnatural', and that I had scared or hurt them, they concluded that I was possessed by the devil."

"What do you mean he punished them, sir?" Harry asked wearily.

Dumbledore, once again, eyed him carefully before speaking. "Most of it I do not know … What I do know isn't very pleasant."

"I want to hear it," Harry said, steeling himself.

"There was a young boy Tom's age called Billy who had a rabbit. That was, until he managed to tick Tom off somehow. The next day, he found it swinging in a noose from the rafters, looking as if it had climbed up and hanged itself."

"So they locked me up in the attic whenever the other children complained about me, and they repeatedly had a priest come over to cleanse me of sin ... and they kept threatening me that they would send me to an Asylum if I didn't get my act together."

"How do you know it was him?" Harry said with a suddenly very dry mouth.

"It couldn't have been done anyway other than with magic," Dumbledore said slowly. "And Tom was the only one in that area who could do magic at that time."

"But you don't know," Harry argued stubbornly.

"Does it seem that implausible to you?" Dumbledore returned with raised eyebrows.

"People must fear the repercussions of weakness and bad behaviour, or they will not respect their betters."

Harry swallowed thickly and looked away. "So what happened? The day you went to see him, sir?"

"I met what I thought back then was a rather odd but completely normal 11-year-old boy," said Dumbledore eventually, allowing Harry's change of subject without comment. "He was a very independent child, refusing my offer to accompany him on his trip to Diagon Alley. He appeared accustomed to ordering people around and get his way. He was very suspicious and seemed to believe I was a doctor come to take him to some muggle asylum."

Hearing that, Harry's insides tied themselves into knots and he had to close his eyes against an onslaught of pity.

"I also had to warn him off stealing since such behaviour would not be accepted at Hogwarts."

Dully, Harry nodded and re-opened his eyes. "He used to nick things," he murmured as though trying to explain, letting the 'just like me' go unsaid.

"It appeared so," Dumbledore allowed with a sad smile. "None of that transferred at the start of term, though. To all looks and appearances, he was a quiet, gentle orphan with great talent; charmed all his teachers in a heartbeat."

"But not you," Harry said, watching keenly as Dumbledore have a slow nod.

"He tried, with great effort, to make me forget what I had glimpsed back at the orphanage, of course. But it just couldn't be done, to his great agitation."

"I bet," Harry said with a wry smile as his insides burned with affection.

"Harry," Dumbledore said in a rather solemn voice as he leaned forwards against his desk, holding his wrinkled hands together as though in prayer. "Please, listen carefully. It is of utmost import that you are aware that one of Tom Riddle's many talents is – as it has been ever since his youth – his remarkable ability to weave other people into his web of lies and twisted truths."

Looking at Dumbledore's concerned expression, something inside of Harry snapped. "Master doesn't lie to me," he whispered daringly, keeping his gaze boldly locked with Dumbledore's. "Whenever I've asked him something, he's never refused to answer or … or explained something away. He's actually a bit too honest sometimes."

Dumbledore looked back at him, utterly calm. "Do you think that you are in a position in which you can properly evaluate whether what he tells you is truth or lies?"

It took Harry a moment to understand what he'd just been asked, and when he did, he swallowed uncomfortably but stubbornly kept his gaze firm. "I trust him."

"Do you?" Dumbledore returned with raised eyebrows. "May I ask why?"

"I didn't know you needed my permission to ask a simple question, sir," Harry bit back acidly, his mind filling up with anger at the old headmaster who, for no reason, acted as though the two of them were very close when they had only spoken to one another but two times before.

To his added fury, Dumbledore did nothing more than smile gently at him, as though his outburst had been nothing but a childish attempt at arguing a point. "You are bound together, magically. Of course that would warrant a certain level of trust."

Ice cold fear made Harry's entire body freeze up. "What," he rasped out before clearing his throat. "What do you mean?"

He knows! Harry thought with desperation, watching Dumbledore's serene expression with growing fear. He knows I'm a Horcrux! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

Slowly, Dumbledore reached into one of the top drawers of his desk and withdrew a scroll of rolled up parchment. Wearily, Harry watched as he unrolled and held it up to his face, adjusting his half-moon shaped glasses before starting to skim through whatever was written on it.

"Let me see … Yes, here it is. 'During which time this Apprenticeship is in effect, the Apprentice the Master faithfully shall serve, his secrets keep, and his commands obey to the best of his ability'."

Harry's entire thought process screeched to a halt, and he breathed a deep breath of relief before a new, different sort of dread settled into his stomach, twisting it uncomfortably.

"How did you get that?"

Slowly, Dumbledore lowered the parchment and smiled brilliantly at his terrified student. "As you might or might not have figured out, Nicolas has been posing as dear Mr Ilbert Abbott ever since Voldemort's return to the living – an agreement of interest between the two of them, of course. Having Lord Voldemort's trust, 'Healer Abbott' was bestowed with a house-elf –"

"Bleak," Harry breathed out, his mind going haywire.

"Indeed," Dumbledore said happily and continued. "Bleak was assigned to keep an eye on you so that, in case you were ever in immediate danger, Nicolas could come to your aid."

Harry frowned, remembering quite clearly how he'd been ambushed and attacked by Bellatrix Lestrange without any unforeseen aid coming to his rescue.

"She was also to keep an eye on you, to learn, if she could, how we might save you. That was how she came to overhear a conversation you had with Professor Snape, where you told him that you had been forced to sign a contract."

Snape's sour face glaring down at him among the shrubbery sprang immediately to his mind.

"Was that all he had to do, Potter? Did he simply have to make a couple of threats, and that made you give up?"

"He didn't give me a choice, and he made me sign a contract."

"After that, she looked through Voldemort's office while cleaning and found the contract lying quite openly in a drawer."

Harry remembered his master pulling out that same document when he asked for it, and wondered idly if Voldemort had placed it that openly for Harry's benefit.

"Nicolas could then make a copy and return the original without anybody being any the wiser. The copy, he sent to me."

"So you've known all along," Harry whispered accusingly, "where I've been, what I've done … all of it."

Smiling gently, Dumbledore appeared completely unruffled. "The information I have received has been very sparse and far in between. Nicolas had to be exceedingly careful in his role. As it is, I have done my utmost to rescue you, Harry. To spare you. By whatever means necessary."

"But you didn't!" Harry screamed, flying to his feet. "You didn't rescue me! You kidnapped me! You took me away from the only place I've ever had where there'd been someone who I could rely on. Someone who cared about me and took care of me."

"Took care of you?" Dumbledore repeated in obvious surprise, although he seemed otherwise completely unaffected by Harry's tantrum. "Harry, Voldemort was the one who kidnapped you."

"I know he did!" Harry yelled, breathing heavily against an onslaught of conflicting emotions. "I know that! I'm not stupid!"

"Far from it," Dumbledore agreed calmly, not moving a muscle.

"Yeah … right, exactly," Harry said, stumbling at the unexpected agreement. "What I'm saying is that I liked it there. Master took care of me – showed me that I … that I mattered – and I've never had that before. And you took that away from me!"

Slowly, with dawning understanding, Dumbledore nodded. "Seeing that your childhood with your aunt and uncle was not … what one could have hoped for, although necessary at the time … you found a father figure in Lord Voldemort."

"He's not my father," Harry disagreed with a sneer, crossing his arms over his chest. "Or my friend. He made that quite clear … He's my master. Nothing else."

Dumbledore hummed as though agreeing, but Harry could see the disbelief in his expression. For a little while, they both remained silent, studying each other. Eventually, Dumbledore's serene voice broke the silence.

"But you do know that this sense of belonging … and your acceptance of your position, along with the urge to return to your 'master', as you call him … is magic at work."

Not just the contract, Harry thought to himself, but a soul connection on top of that. Outwardly, he just set his jaw and sent Dumbledore a challenging expression. "So?" he said in a drawl that would have earned him a week's worth of detentions with Snape. "What does that matter?"

Dumbledore kept studying him for a bit longer, apparently at a loss for words. Then, with a minute shake of his head, he arose and returned the contract to its drawer. "I do not believe we will get any further tonight. I suggest we rest."

"All right," Harry said, trying to disguise his relief as he hurried towards the door.

"Harry!"

Hearing his name called out, his hand froze on the doorknob. "Yes, sir?" he said, turning around reluctantly.

"I am afraid that you have outstayed your welcome in the Hospital Wing."

Confused, Harry frowned. "I have?"

"Unfortunately," Dumbledore said with a merry smile that made Harry think the old wizard didn't find it so unfortunate at all. "You shall have to make do with my office tonight." With a swinging motion of his wand, Dumbledore transfigured the wooden chair Harry had previously been sitting on into a sturdy-looking, but rather cramped bed.

Harry eyed the stuffy-looking pillow wearily and let out a deep sigh.

An hour later, a cacophony of snores was heard from the wall of paintings, and Harry lay wide awake, watching the phoenix wearily, waiting for –

"Harry?"

– that!

"Rebecca?" Harry whispered back as loudly as he dared and watched as the little girl sneaked from one portrait to the other, holding her thick skirts high in an effort to make as little sound as possible. Finally, she ended up in a tiny but peaceful landscape painting, standing idly in one of the bookshelves, cramped in between heavy leather-bound books and what looked like a pile of knitted socks.

"Finally," the painted girl huffed and pierced him with a heated glare that made Harry's chest swell with homesickness. "Was it necessary to camp out in a room completely devoid of paintings?"

"Not my choice," Harry said with a grimace. "Woke up in the Hospital Wing and couldn't get out. And I never even knew you could get here. How did you?"

"I've got a portrait in Ravenclaw Tower," Rebecca said with a shrug. "I can travel between it and the one in the east tower of the fortress if I like. I come here sometimes to speak with my sister; and sometimes when Dark Lords keep insisting on me spying for him."

"Your sister?" Harry asked, curious despite himself.

"Helena," Rebecca said with an eye-roll. "Dreadfully boring old ghost by now, not really worth wasting time on mostly."

"Oh," Harry let out and shook himself. "But you said – master sent you here?"

"From time to time," Rebecca replied with another shrug. "He wanted me to infiltrate his opponents, could get rather nasty about it too … but I mostly kept watch on you instead. Much more fun."

"No," Harry hissed, eyeing the slumbering phoenix as he carefully sat up in bed. "No I meant: did master send you to find me now? Is there a message?"

"There is," Rebecca said with an unreadable expression.

"Well?" Harry replied, leaning closer in anticipation.

"Do nothing."

"Do nothing," Harry repeated dully, blinking slowly when Rebecca simply gave a short nod. "He wants me to just … stay here?"

"In essence."

"And he didn't say anything more?" Harry pressed urgently. "Nothing at all?"

"He doesn't really say very much at all," Rebecca replied, throwing her hands out. "Mostly just sits in his chair, staring out into nothing."

"He sits doing nothing?" Harry said disbelievingly. He had imagined his master doing a wide variation of things. Just sitting around wasting time wasn't one of them.

"Yes, lots," Rebecca said with a nod. "Sometimes he takes out those little snakes, holding them and hissing at them. Particularly that nearly-black one."

"It reminds me of you," whispered a memory in Harry's mind, but he shook it off. "But he must be doing something more," he argued heatedly. "Anything! Doesn't he make plans? Isn't he … isn't he going to get me out of here?"

The little girl heaved a deep sigh and said, in an if possible even quieter voice: "I'm not supposed to say anything. He doesn't want you involved in any of it. Like I said – he just wants you to sit tight and wait."

"Oh," Harry let out, feeling at once immensely relieved. "Right. I guess I can do that … Could you tell him that … tell him that I … I miss him," he muttered, blushing and looking away when the girl grinned at him.

"All right," she whispered. "I'll go do that. Goodbye for now, Harry."

"Goodbye," Harry returned before carefully lying back down in bed, falling asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.