隐蔽军队

The Hidden Army

A Fanfiction Story by Gfyuwatr7

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any other property mentioned in this story.

Author's Note: I think it is safe to say that you all can expect me to update this story at least once every year. Probably.

To Kmanigo72: Thank you for your patience and for reminding me that there are people who genuinely enjoy my stories. This one's for you, hope you enjoy.

PREVIOUSLY: Marietta begins the process of becoming part of Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad. She and Cho begin to mend their friendship. Thus, Cho plays host to Marietta and to Stephanie Edgley at her home. In conjunction with the strange dreams she's been having, Cho's powers begin to manifest in volatile ways. This culminates in another nightmare, and she awakens to find her arms and hands engulfed in cursed flames. They claim the flesh from her bones, and Mr. Chang is able to stop the flames from spreading any further on her body.

Chapter 7: Nightmares

Her eyes were closed. She felt something on her forehead…cold, wet. A towel? No, it was gone now.

Wait, there it was again! Not a towel. But it was definitely wet. As soon as it came, it left again. And once more it came. It was a liquid, running over her forehead.

All at once, Cho became aware of muffled voices. They were loud enough that she could tell they were there, but not enough to hear what they were saying.

Where am I? she wondered. She tried to open her eyes but found that they were unnaturally heavy. She must be dreaming, then. All she had to do was wait to wake up.

Cho opened her eyes. Above her, she could see light pouring in from the enchanted windows of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies. The rays of the sun reached up into the high, ribbed vaults of the ceiling. Normally, she might have appreciated the beauty of the place, its open spaces. But just not in that moment.

She craned her neck slowly forward, scared to look at her arms. But look she did. She let out another breath, this time in relief. Someone had bandaged her arms very thoroughly, that she couldn't see the damage done to them by the hellfire that had engulfed them. Even so, a pit formed in her stomach as she tried to move her fingers beneath the bandages.

There was no response. No sensation. Her breath caught in her throat, and she lay her head back on the pillows. She closed her eyes, willing her tears to not spill forth.

She didn't understand why this had happened, when and where it had all gone wrong. Was this a punishment from God? Or was this a fate of her own making?

She had read that cursed book from the Forgotten Section in the library at Hogwarts. Maybe that was what had triggered this change. But how could something so insignificant cause so much damage? Something else had to be responsible.

She groaned. She was tired, far too tired to ask herself such questions. Perhaps she would sleep some more…

"There is a lot of damage," her mother said quietly. She'd come to visit, and was stroking her daughter's hair softly. Cho didn't mind the contact. It had been a long time since her mother had been so vulnerable, so tender towards her.

"It's okay, mama. You can tell me."

There was a pause. Mrs. Chang closed her eyes briefly and took a steadying breath. "It's…all gone. The flesh, I mean. Your bones weren't damaged at all. Small comfort, I know, but…"

Cho smiled even as tears filled her eyes. "Every little thing helps."

Her mother smiled wanly back, and Cho thought for a moment that there was a hint of pride in her eyes. And a hint of fear.

In their conversation, Cho learned from her mother that the damage done to her arms and hands was extensive. Once Cho had taken a Sleeping Draught, the Healers had set to work, trying every spell and charm known to regenerate flesh. None of them had worked. The fire that had consumed Cho's flesh was beyond anything they'd seen before. The damage was akin to the wounds caused by Fiendfyre, if that fire were many times worse.

They eventually resorted to using a strong Essence of Dittany. It wasn't a forbidden practice by any means; it was simply not something that was held at the hospital in great quantities, due to the complexities in brewing it. It also did not help that making the essence was a time consuming process. It often took weeks to brew it to completion.

The essence was working to regenerate her flesh, but it would be a lengthy process. Due to its limited quantity and the extent of her wounds, her recovery was estimated to be at around two months.

Cho couldn't believe it. She would miss so many of her classes. She wouldn't be learning how to Apparate, as all sixth year students were expected to learn. She wouldn't be learning any new spells from Dumbledore's Army. But what struck at her heart the most was the thought of not seeing Harry again for so long. All of these piled onto her, only made worse by the lack of sensation in her arms and hands.

The windows in the infirmary reflected the time and weather of the outside world. Judging from the strength of the moonlight spilling into the room, Cho surmised that there was a full moon out. Or perhaps there weren't any clouds in the sky tonight. Magic, when it came to telling time through one's eyes, seemed to have an almost dreamlike quality. Her eyes were becoming heavy, the worries of the day taking their toll on her.

There was a tapping sound coming from somewhere. A whisper in the dark. She opened her eyes briefly, and was startled to see a man standing next to her bed.

She blinked up at him rapidly, trying to rid her eyes of exhaustion. She knew visiting hours were well over. He could only be an intruder.

The man was young, dark haired, and handsome. Or he would be, if he weren't so unnaturally pale. He had the complexion of a man suffering from hypothermia. And his eyes seemed strangely empty as he stared at her.

Now more than ever, she wished she could use her hands. Her wand was on her bedside, but it was next to useless at the moment.

"Comfortable?" the man asked. His voice sounded odd. He was trying to be pleasant, but came across as condescending. Cho said nothing, her mind racing to find a way out.

The man didn't seem perturbed by her silence. If anything, he seemed to be expecting it.

"The silent treatment. That's fine. It means you won't interrupt me." He held a hand to the front of his coat as he sat down in the chair next to her. He was now between her and her wand. Not that she could have done much with it.

He leaned forward, his gaze turning from her face towards her bandaged hands. He attempted a frown of concern, but Cho didn't believe it for a second.

"Looks like I did a real number on you, didn't I?" he finally said. He looked her in the eyes again, smiling at her look of alarm.

This was the man responsible for her current misery. She didn't know how he'd done it or why. All she knew was that she suddenly had someone to blame. She stared him defiantly in the eyes, as she couldn't do much else. As he stared back, Cho realized that his eyes weren't simply glazed over, as she had assumed before. They were completely detached. This was a man who didn't care about the suffering he inflicted on others, of that she was sure. Finally she decided to speak.

And realized she couldn't.

Her heart racing, she tried to open her mouth. It wouldn't move. Her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth, held there by some unseen force. This was why the man didn't seem offended by her silence. Somehow, he had taken her speech away. But she hadn't even seen him use a wand, or heard him say an incantation.

This man was dangerous. A bead of sweat rolled down her temple as she struggled to move something, anything. But she was not in control of her body. And it frightened her, more than anything else at this point.

The man was speaking again. "Ah, you were unaware. You see, I couldn't have you struggling during this crucial step of your recovery. That's what I'm here for." He stood up slowly, and reached out a hand to her head. Just as Cho was sure he was going to touch her, he stopped. His face was contorted in disgust.

"The cursed mark…it hasn't faded." He dropped his arm to his side. "No matter. I don't need to lay hands on you in order to help you. It'll fade away soon enough." He raised both of his arms. But this time he let them hover over her bandaged arms and hands. Again, he didn't actually touch her.

"Tonight is going to feel a bit uncomfortable," he said. His smile had returned. "Actually, forget that. It's going to be very painful. But trust me, it's necessary." As he said this, Cho began to feel something in her ruined limbs. Her eyes widened. This was impossible! Even with magic, her arms could not be healing this quickly.

But it was so. As time passed in the dark room, she felt her arms and hands filling out the tight space of the casts wrapped around them. Carefully, the man waved his hand over the casts. They disappeared in a cloud of putrid smoke, and Cho could see her arms again. They were whole. Skin and muscle was restored where once there had been nothing but blackened husks. She couldn't believe her eyes. She tried to look up at the man. Perhaps she had misjudged him. But as she locked her gaze with his, she wished he hadn't.

His eyes had become pitch black. He smiled at her. "My gift to you," he said. And with that, he vanished.

Cho blinked rapidly, flinching slightly at the man's sudden disappearance. She gave a small gasp as she sat up. She could move again. She brought her arms and hands to her body, relief flooding her. She couldn't help the tears running down her cheeks as she sobbed and laughed at the same time.

She stood up and walked to the window, bathing her arms and hands in the moonlight pouring in. And as she did, her heart stopped. Her hands were glowing faintly, steam rising from her pores.

Her nightmare was far from over.

"Cho, wake up!"

Cho opened her eyes slowly. She almost closed them again. Light was pouring in from the windows of the Ravenclaw dormitories. She hissed slightly, wishing Marietta would close the blinds around the window and leave her in peace. Rolling over, she clumsily grasped the curtains around her bed and tried to pull them closed. Her friend was having none of that, however. Marietta forcefully pulled them open again, allowing the January sunlight from the window to blast Cho in the face.

"Mari, can we not…?"

"You do know we have lessons again today, right?" Marietta said in an annoyingly superior tone. "Your grades have been so good. It'd be a shame if something were to happen to them…"

It was the beginning of January, more or less. All the students who had left for the holidays had returned to Hogwarts the previous afternoon. In spite of Cho's early recovery, she had been confined to St. Mungo's for almost the whole duration of the holiday.

"I'm up, I'm up," Cho grumbled. As she staggered around that morning preparing for the day, she realized that she was more tired than she could remember being in a long time. She tried to shake off the fog that was clouding her mind, but that didn't happen until later in the day.

She had finished her lunch in a haze, not really tasting the food she put in her mouth. As she left the Great Hall, she found Harry, Ron, Hermione and Zacharias Smith, a fellow member of the D.A., having a discussion just outside the hall. Smith walked off just as Cho reached the others.

"Hi, Harry."

"Cho!" Harry turned around, his face lighting up. His eyes crinkled slightly as he put his arms around her. They had not seen each other since he had visited her in the hospital during the holidays. He had been horrified to learn that it wasn't only Mr. Weasley who was suffering.

"We'll be in the library, Harry," Hermione said firmly. She grabbed Ron by the sleeve of his robes and dragged him off as he protested. Cho felt a rush of gratitude. Ron had good intentions, but he could be a bit daft sometimes.

"We really didn't get much time to talk in the hospital, did we?" Cho asked quietly. She had wrapped her arms around Harry's shoulders.

"Far too little," he agreed with feeling. "The Order didn't want me out in the open too long. I didn't really care, I just wanted to see you…"

"I know. Trust me, I know." Cho sighed. "And now I know how you felt during the summer, at least in a small way. Even if I was totally recovered, the Healers insisted I stay bedridden until they were absolutely sure I was fine."

"And you are, right?" He looked at her over his spectacles, and Cho was briefly and eerily reminded of Dumbledore.

"Yes, mum," she groaned playfully, rolling her eyes. Harry smiled slightly in response, but Cho could tell he wasn't fooled. She decided it was time to get going, before he started asking more questions.

"See you soon?" she asked quietly. They both knew they had separate classes. Suddenly, Cho was struck with an idea. "How about we go out again sometime, just the two of us? No friends, no D.A. members bothering us. There's a Hogsmeade visit coming up around Valentine's Day, we could go out then."

"Yeah, that sounds brilliant!" said Harry. "It's been a while since we've had time to ourselves. Till then, I'll see you at the meetings?"

"Definitely." She rose on her toes and kissed him lightly on the lips. They separated reluctantly at the top of the staircase leading to the greater castle, constantly looking over their shoulders at each other.

Finally, Cho met with Marietta and they began walking briskly to their class.

"It's about time," Marietta grumbled. "You two take so long just talking, I swear…"

"Oh shush!" snapped Cho. "Just let me have this."

"Did you tell him about the dreams?" Marietta asked pointedly. Cho only grunted in reply. "Didn't think so."

Cho had been having strange dreams since the night of the incident. She would always wake up in St. Mungo's, with her arms still in casts, the flesh still missing. She would relive those first days over and over. Sometimes she would wake up, only to realize later that she was still dreaming. The dreams would vary, but they always took place in the hospital. And they would always end the same way: the man in the dark coat and suit would visit her, heal her, and would disappear. She could never remember what happened next, but she was sure that those moments were in her dreams too.

Or were those moments dreams anymore? She could occasionally remember vague flashes of images.

Charred bodies lying on the ground. People with empty eye sockets. The stench of burning flesh. A void, a pressure that threatened to crush her head. Voices sobbing and screaming in the dark.

She really wished she could forget those parts.

In spite of seeing Cho again, it was with a heavy heart that Harry walked towards the dungeons of the castle later that day. On the last day of the holidays, Severus Snape paid a visit to Grimmauld Place and announced that he would be teaching Harry Occlumency once he returned to Hogwarts. Harry was to explain these meetings as Remedial Potions classes.

From what Harry knew, he was not being possessed by Voldemort. That fear was put aside thanks to Ginny Weasley. Apparently, Dumbledore believed it would be prudent for Harry to learn to defend his mind. He wasn't sure how to feel about Dumbledore refusing to teach him Occlumency himself. The headmaster was clearly capable of doing so. Yet he had seen fit leave the task to Snape instead. Time and again, Dumbledore continued to disappoint him. Harry was not looking forward to these additional meetings with the Potions Master, even if they would help him sleep better at night. As Ron himself had said upon hearing of the new arrangement: "I'd rather have the nightmares!"

Harry knocked on Snape's office door, and heard a quiet invitation to enter. Harry did so, unable to suppress the shiver that always ran through his body upon entering the dungeons. As he entered, his eyes caught sight of Dumbledore's Pensieve- a contraption that allowed one to observe memories- resting on the desk in the middle of the dark room. He was wondering what it was doing here when he heard Snape from the corner.

"Close the door behind you, Potter."

Harry walked the final steps towards the library, his legs shaking from the effort. His scar was throbbing painfully, and his skin felt clammy. The practice of Occlumency had taken its toll on him.

Snape would use Legilimency- the art of invading minds- and Harry was meant to repel these attacks using his mind alone. Each time, Harry was forced to relive various painful (and several not so painful) memories, things that he wished to keep private. In spite of its difficulties, he at last had answers to a few burning questions. Most importantly: the weapon that Voldemort was searching for was at the Ministry of Magic itself, in the Department of Mysteries.

Harry wasn't entirely sure what to do with this information. Though he would never consciously admit it, the fact that he had a direct channel into Voldemort's mind did give him a sense of importance. After all, if he hadn't seen Nagini attack Mr. Weasley last month, he would likely have died of his injuries. No one would have known he was attacked until it was too late.

Snape himself was displeased with Harry's lack of progress, but he seemed even more so as Harry began to question him about the Department of Mysteries and its importance. No doubt the Potions Master would be reporting their conversation to Dumbledore. Harry didn't much care what they did anymore.

Harry walked into the library, and after discussing his lesson and subsequent revelation with Ron and Hermione, they decided to return to the Gryffindor common room in hopes of finding more privacy. Unfortunately, the Weasley twins were causing an uproar in the normally tranquil room. They had just perfected a new parlor trick to add to their repertoire. Harry had always appreciated their sense of humor, but tonight all he wanted was some peace and quiet.

"I think I'll go to bed," he muttered. He weaved his way between students, and after some effort managed to reach the staircase leading to the dormitories.

As soon as he crossed the threshold of the quarters, he doubled over, clutching his scar. It had lit up like Christmas tree lights in a muggle town, pounding and pulsing with pain. The entire room vanished under Harry's feet, and there was nothing in his ears but the sound of maniacal laughter…someone was very, very happy about something…

"Harry? Harry!"

A fist collided with his jaw, and the laughter abruptly stopped. Harry opened his eyes and realized with a start that he was the one who had been laughing. His stomach heaving, he sat up shakily from the floor. Ron stood over him, looking apologetic as he loosened his fist. He knelt down next to Harry, worry written over his features.

"What happened?" he asked.

"I dunno…He's really happy…really happy…"

"You-Know-Who is?"

"Something good's happened," mumbled Harry. He was still shaking, worse than before. "Something he's been hoping for."

As he lay in bed later, Harry wondered what had happened that could possibly make Voldemort the happiest he'd been in so long. His night was filled with vague flashes and nightmares, hounding him unrelentingly.

Little did he know he wasn't the only one with nightmares.

Water poured over her head three times, each time accompanied by a voice. She couldn't understand what was being said or who was saying it. The water felt strange on her head. It wasn't as though she had never felt it before, but it was usually cold and wet. That was it.

This felt different. The water was cold, but it seemed to sting slightly too. She had never felt that from water before. Somehow, she knew something was wrong.

The voices were speaking again. Only one was familiar. The other two were unknown to her. She could hear them becoming agitated. What was wrong? She tried to open her eyes but they were still heavy with sleep. She needed to wake up.

Out of the darkness, she heard a new voice. It spoke clearly, as though the speaker were right next to her.

"You really shouldn't have done that."

Cho opened her eyes. She was standing in a dark alley. Empty windows and storefronts surrounded her and when she looked up, she couldn't see the stars. Was she in London?

She heard a moan coming from the other side of the alley. She turned and squinted into the dark, but couldn't see anyone.

"Hello? Is someone there? Are you alright?" she called out. She stepped forward slowly, reaching for her wand in the same motion. Her hand reached her leg, and she realized she wasn't wearing her usual clothes. She was in her hospital gown from St. Mungo's. Her wand was missing.

She heard another moan from the alley. She looked up and reeled back in shock. There was a man lying naked on the ground, covered in burns, cuts and black bruises. Cho stepped forward, reaching out her hand. The man's eyes widened and he tried to crawl away on one arm.

"Stay back!" he whimpered. He raised his arm as if to stop her, and Cho froze in her tracks. The man's arm, from his elbow to his hand, was missing. "Don't kill me!"

What are you saying? Why would I want to kill you? she thought. When she opened her mouth, she said something completely different.

"Men like you. Must die." She walked forward briskly, closing the distance between them in seconds. The man tried once more to crawl away.

Cho reached for him, grabbing him by the shoulders and pinning him against the wall of the alley. The man cried out hoarsely. All the fight had left him. He didn't bother to struggle. He looked down at her beseechingly, his wide eyes terrified.

"Please!" he whimpered.

"No one can save you."

The next morning, Marietta glanced up from her copy of the Daily Prophet at Cho. She sat across from her, holding her spoon in her hand loosely and gazing blankly into her porridge bowl. Marietta cleared her throat.

"I thought you hated porridge," she said lightly. Cho's head snapped up, her eyes red and unfocused.

"What's that?" she asked.

"You hate porridge," Marietta said again, nodding at the bowl in question. Cho looked down and pushed the bowl away hurriedly.

"Right, yeah," she said distractedly, filling another bowl with porridge. Marietta sighed and took the bowl away from her, giving Cho her own plate of eggs and bacon.

"Here," she said, handing Cho the Prophet. "Take a look at the story on the fifth page. Take your mind off your own problems."

Cho took the paper, absently taking and nibbling on a piece of bacon as she stared at the front page. A mass breakout from Azkaban had taken place the night before. Her eyes widened, the sleep gone from them in an instant. "This isn't good."

"Sounds like you want to do something about it," Marietta said, looking at her friend carefully. Cho looked anywhere but up.

"Well, I can't, can I?" she replied. Marietta narrowed her eyes slightly. Something was definitely amiss. She remained silent as Cho continued to read the breakout story, not even flinching as Hermione Granger yelped a few tables away, apparently reading the same thing.

"What was the other story you mentioned?" Cho asked. She looked very troubled, but was trying to hide it.

"It's on page five. Nasty stuff."

"Why would you make me read it then? I'm having breakfast."

"To wake you up. You've been walking about like a husk all morning."

"Fine," Cho muttered. She turned to the corresponding page and began to read.

Tragedy Strikes the Muggle World on New Year's Eve

"Seems a bit late to report on this," Cho mumbled through a mouthful of egg. "That was weeks ago."

"It really only made Muggle news at the time. But there's always someone at the Prophet lobbying to bring Muggle issues to the wizarding world," Marietta said. "And technically, the piece covers a period of about two weeks. There was a serial killer on the loose."

Cho remained silent as she read on. Her food lay forgotten on the table. Marietta glanced up, worried. "You alright?"

"This all happened in London," Cho said quietly. "While I was at St. Mungo's."

"Yeah," Marietta said slowly. "Guess it was good we never went outside."

"They were all burned to death. With their eyes scooped out," Cho said dully.

"Um, yeah." Marietta looked on as Cho closed her eyes, her brow creased. In concentration or in pain, she didn't know. "Maybe I shouldn't have given you that."

Cho shook her head. "Wake up," she whispered to herself and opened her eyes. They were welling up in tears.

"Cho, you are awake."

2nd AN: So sorry again for the large delay. I will admit, I had been struck with a mountainous case of writer's block. But I'm here now, and that's good. I became employed during the Christmas season last year, and writing took a backseat as I'm still working there. Hopefully it won't be too long before I update again. To be frank, it was hard to come up with original material for this story, as I knew I didn't want to rewrite the entire series word for word.

To Louatown: I apologize for the confusion. I plan to leave a note at the beginning of each chapter published from here on out to make sure people aren't lost when a new chapter is released. Thank you for the advice.

To MountainLord-92: I understand your misgivings about Harry's portrayal in the Order of the Phoenix. Unfortunately, I also believe it is important to his character to act the way he does. I hope you can see past that as I continue to write. I also see Cho's breakdown as something necessary. All relationships (and life in general, really) have conflict. And the time for that is fast approaching. I don't like unnecessary conflict, believe me.

To The Typing Cat: Please don't hurt me! Look, I posted a new chapter!

And to Kmanigo72: I thank you again for being so patient. Regarding Cho burning Umbridge to a cinder- it's not necessarily part of my plan, but we'll see…

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and followed this story! Hopefully I won't be too long in updating next time. As always, constructive criticism is welcome (and praise as well. Mwahaha). Please leave a review and let me know what you all think! See you next time!