Three dollars and some change

Inevitable Sixty-Six: Into My Own Hands
by Mhalachai
Disclaimer: Laurell K. Hamilton owns all things Anita Blake. J.K. Rowling owns all things Harry Potter. Only the story is my own.
Note: Seems I forgot that Harry has the Marauders' map in the books, as per OotP18. Meh. In this story, Harry never got it back in OotP. Not that much hinges on it. About 7,900 words.

Previous parts here.

~~~~~~~

"How about this one?"

Jason held the paint strip up to the wall. Micah and Nathaniel looked at it, then both shook their heads at the same time. "It's too bland," Micah said.

Jason let my hand fall. "It's not bland, It's..." He consulted the back of the strip. "Creamy Eggshell?"

"It's a dirty white," I said, while Nathaniel rummaged through the pile of paint strips we'd gotten from the hardware store.

"We should do the entire house with colors," Nathaniel said as he laid a handful of strips on the carpet. "Like this blue one for the kitchen, and this green one for the living room, and yellow for the hallway?"

He looked up at me with wide, hopeful eyes, and I couldn't help but smile. Nathaniel, Jason and I had met Micah for breakfast at a restaurant. It had to be close to my house, since Nathaniel had "borrowed" Micah's car last night. Then the four of us bundled ourselves over to the store to start to figure out how to redecorate my house. It was Nathaniel's idea to paint everything.

"You should do your bedroom in zebra stripes," Jason contributed.

We all turned to stare at him. "Why?" I demanded.

"Zebra stripes are cool." He drained his mug, then picked up my coffee mug and took a sip. "Oh, do Harry's room in plaid! He'll love it when he comes over for Christmas."

I rolled my eyes at Micah. My Nimir-Raj hid a smirk. "Why don't we concentrate on the rest of the house first, then do Harry's room. He's not going to be here for a few months yet," Micah said.

"Spoilsport," Jason muttered as I grabbed my coffee mug back. "Hey!"

"Get your own coffee," I said as Micah pulled me onto his lap at the new kitchen table. "And why are you still here?"

Jason shrugged. "Because catching a cab back to the Circus isn't nearly as fun as staying here." He looked at Nathaniel's paint strips, and moved one. "The blue's too dark for the kitchen, use this one."

Nathaniel moved the strips back to the way he had them. "We'll use it as emphasis, not the whole walls," he said firmly.

I laid my hand on his shoulder, and he gave me a tired smile. Micah's hand tightened on my leg, and I settled back against him while I held onto Nathaniel. This was the way it was supposed to be, the three of us together at home like this.

The phone rang. Micah and I let out simultaneous groans. "A call this early can't be good," I grumbled as I stood up.

"It's almost noon," Jason said, getting into a tug-of-war with Nathaniel over a light purple paint strip. "Nathaniel, you can't do the bathroom purple!"

I ruffled Jason's hair on my way past. "He can do whatever he wants," I said as I picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Anita?" The female voice on the other end of the line was familiar, but I couldn't place it right away. "It's Tammy."

"Tammy, hi," I said. "What's up? How are Larry and Tannis?"

"They're fine, thanks," Tammy said, sounding a little flustered. "Are you busy?"

I sighed. I should have known that more than a week off from work, even after being almost killed by a psychopath, was too much to ask. "What's wrong?" I asked, unable to keep the exhaustion from seeping into my voice. At the table, Micah sat up straight, watching me.

"Nothing's wrong, I just have someone that wants to meet you," Tammy said quickly. "Are you busy right now?"

"Not really," I said. "Who do you want me to meet?"

"Can you come over to my place?" Tammy asked, ignoring my question.

Now I was starting to get worried. Tammy was usually straight-forward to the point of bluntness. "Is something wrong?" I asked while looking at Micah. I made driving motions with my free hand. A wave of understanding washed over his face, and he hurried over to where I put my keys.

"Nothing's wrong, but this is very important," Tammy said. "Are you coming over?"

"Yes, I'm coming over," I said. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

Tammy hung up without saying good-bye.

"Shit!" I said, slamming down the phone. I took off down the hall to the bedroom where I'd left my shoulder holster. Tammy was never like this, what it something was wrong?

"Anita?" Micah asked from the doorway while I searched for a belt. "Is there trouble?"

"Tammy says no, but I don't like it," I said, adjusting the straps, then slipping the Browning into the holster. "I'm going over there."

"I'm going with you," Micah said.

"And me," Nathaniel said from behind Micah. "Larry and Tammy are my friends too."

It was on the tip of my tongue to argue, to tell Nathaniel and Micah to stay here out of danger, but there was something fierce in Nathaniel's eyes. I nodded. "I have to get the Firestar from the upstairs gun safe."

"I'll get the bullets from downstairs," Nathaniel said, and vanished.

Micah stopped me in the doorway with a light touch on my arm. "Would you like me to call Larry?" he asked.

I'd forgotten all about Larry. "I should call him," I said, reaching for my cell phone. Micah took the phone from me.

"You can't do everything at once," he said. "I'll call Larry, you get the gun, and we'll go in a minute."

I wanted to argue, but he was right. I hated it that he was right, that I couldn't do everything, but I swallowed those protests. "Fine," I said, already moving.

Jason followed me upstairs. "Do you need me to come along?" he asked as I hurried down the hall.

"I don't even know if anything's wrong!" I exclaimed as I unlocked the unused bedroom that held the gun safe. "Maybe Tammy's just frazzled. I'll have Micah and Nathaniel with me."

"Do you want me to go with you?" Jason asked again.

I had to concentrate on the combination for a minute. "I honestly don't know."

"Then I'm going with you," Jason declared in a very un-Jason-like tone. "Like Nathaniel said, we're Larry and Tammy's friends too."

I pressed my lips together as I reached into the safe, past the shotgun and the various weaponry my job necessitated these days. "I can't protect you all," I said as I pulled out the Firestar.

Jason was so quiet that I had to turn around to see if he had left. He had leaned against the door, arms crossed over his chest, and he was glaring at me. "You don't need to protect us," he said, still too serious. "We're lycanthropes, we're faster and stronger than anyone else except vampires, and it's the middle of the day."

I shook my head as I closed the safe. "I'm your lupa, I'm supposed to protect--"

"Oh, fuck, not this again!" Jason exclaimed. "When are you going to get it through that thick skull of yours that this goes both ways? We love you too, and we're allowed to want to help you! You're not the only person in the world who's able to help!"

I stared at Jason for a long second, then I pushed past him into the hall.

~*~

"What's the plan?" Micah asked as I turned the car around the corner onto Larry and Tammy's lane.

"Just see how it goes, I guess," I said. I pulled the jeep up to the curb. "Larry wasn't on his phone?"

"It went right to voicemail," Micah said. "I called your office, too, but Mary said he'd gone out for lunch with a client."

"Right," I muttered. "Okay, let's go."

Micah insisted on walking at my side, with Jason and Nathaniel right behind us. I hoped it was because Micah understood that Jason and Nathaniel needed more protecting that I could give.

"Smells like baking cookies," Micah whispered as we neared the door.

"Then let's hope I'm wrong," I said as I pushed the doorbell.

Footsteps sounded, and the front door swung open. Tammy was holding a cranky-looking Tannis on her hip. "Anita?" She appeared surprised. "Hi, Micah. Jason, Nathaniel... why are you all here?"

I couldn't even bring myself to be embarrassed. "You sounded weird on the phone."

Tannis blew a raspberry at me, then started chewing on her hand. Tammy hitched her daughter up higher. "Everything's fine, I told you, just..." She shook her head and stood back to let us all in. "Just strange."

I stayed where I was. "Strange how?"

Tammy shook her head as Tannis began unhappy babbling. "Someone wanted to see you, something to do with Harry."

I felt Nathaniel's hand on my back, and a light brush against my mind. He wanted to go inside, to hear what Tammy's mysterious guest had to say about Harry. I agreed. "Fine."

Micah went ahead of me, with Jason and Nathaniel bringing up the rear. Jason reached out to tickled Tannis's bare foot, but she just kicked and frowned. "What's with her?" Jason asked.

"She's teething," Tammy said. "At least she's stopped crying."

"Poor kid," Jason said. "Can I?" He took Tannis from Tammy and tossed the six-month-old baby up over his head before settling her against his side. "Those aren't scary teeth, these are scary teeth," he said as he pretended to gnaw on her wrist. She began to smile, then giggle.

Tammy looked relieved. "Do you ever want to baby-sit?" she asked as she led us toward the living room. "She's such a handful."

I caught a glimpse of the wistful expression on Nathaniel's face, and in spite of everything that was going on, I felt a tiny shaft of worry snake down my spine. Please don't let Nathaniel get broody, I prayed. My life was complicated enough without having to deal with a baby, or a guy who wanted one.

We'd been to Tammy's house before, and it was as immaculate as ever. I knew Larry was the one who cleaned, so I never commented on it. The living room was the only room with a bit of a mess, with Tannis's playpen and toys strewn about. It was also the only occupied room, with a tall old man in a suit standing by the window looking out at the backyard.

I wasn't sure what it was about him that put my hackles up. He looked normal enough, like any old man, but there was something about him that was too... energetic, as if he wasn't really as old as he looked.

With a start, I realized that he reminded me of Harry's headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. The mental comparison did nothing to calm me down.

"Anita, this is John Cassidy, he's in charge of the American Auror department," Tammy said. Her voice was cop-cool, but under it I could hear the tiniest hint of trepidation.

I stared at the man. "Is that a fact?" I didn't bother to hide the anger I was feeling. Anger was easy for me, and it helped to push down the shiver of scared remembrance, of breaking glass and flying through the air, of pain all over my skin that I wasn't able to stop. Micah grabbed my left hand, and I squeezed him so hard that I'd have broken a normal human's bones.

"Yes, Ms. Blake, it is," the man said, with just the tiniest hint of a drawl. "Might we talk for a few minutes?"

"I'm pretty sure that I don't want to listen to anything you have to say," I said as I turned to leave.

"It's about Harry Potter," he said, unruffled. I froze. Micah's hand slipped out of mine as I turned back to the man.

"What about him?"

Tammy looked at me. "It's something you need to listen to, Anita," she said.

I spared the witch a glance before glaring at Cassidy. "You came to her first so that she'd get me to listen to you, didn't you?" I demanded.

An expression of resignation passed over his face. "After what happened in the St. Louis police station with two of my former employees, I didn't think there was any way you would listen to me if I came to you straight out." He sat down on the sofa, a tiny hesitation in his movement as he swung his right leg out stiffly. "There's also the political aspect that I unfortunately have to deal with."

Micah and I exchanged glances. I hated this, being tricked into anything, but I knew that I couldn't leave now, not without knowing what this had to do with Harry.

Are we staying? Nathaniel's voice brushed against my mind. Unhappily, I told him we were. Then I should make tea or something, because otherwise Tammy's going to want to do it and she should be here with you in case things get weird.

Take Jason and the baby with you, I thought quickly.

"Tammy, if we're going to stay for a while, maybe I can make us something to drink?" Nathaniel said smoothly. I couldn't see his face, but he was using his stage voice, confidence that he wore like a shield whenever something was wrong. It was an act and I hated it, knowing that the confidence wasn't real.

"Oh, I don't--" Tammy said.

"He makes a mean cup of coffee," Jason said, turning a giggling Tannis sideways on his arm and rubbing her tummy. "I'll help. We know where everything is."

Tammy nodded so quickly that I wondered if she was worried about the situation, or if she just didn't want to miss anything. "Let me know if you need any help."

"Tell me what you wanted to say about Harry," I said as soon as Jason and Nathaniel had cleared the room.

Cassidy leaned back against the couch. "You may as well sit down, we're going to be here for a bit."

I tried to push back my... my what? Anger? Or was it the apprehension still singing through my veins? Olaf had attacked Nathaniel and me one week ago, and it had been almost a month and a half since the Aurors had attacked Zerbrowski and Dolph at the police station. I didn't want to be here, with someone whose magic I couldn't fight.

I swallowed my developing panic attack. I had to find out what this man had to say about Harry. Following Micah to the couch across from where Cassidy was sitting, I perched on the arm while Micah sat beside me. From here, I could see Nathaniel and Jason in Tammy's kitchen. Nathaniel glanced at me, and my resolve strengthened.

"So?" I demanded.

"So," Cassidy said, "Introductions are probably in order."

"I thought you already knew who everyone was, spying on me and all that," I snapped.

The man stared at me. "What I know and what I don't know isn't any excuse for impoliteness on my part, Ms. Blake." He looked at Micah and gave a nod. "I'm John Cassidy."

"Micah Callahan," Micah said.

Cassidy shot me another glance. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't know why you were upset with me, Ms. Blake."

"Oh really?" I exclaimed, trying very hard to keep an hysterical edge out of my voice. "Would that be where two of your employees messed with the mind of a friend of mine, a good policeman? Or where they sent me through a plate glass window?"

"Or where we didn't know Nigel Spencer was in St. Louis?" Cassidy interrupted. "Or what Nigel Spencer did to his wife? I assure you, Ms. Blake, exactly how my department missed Spencer's presence for so many years is the matter of an ongoing investigation."

"What about what they did to Zerbrowski?" I pushed. "Fucking with a law enforcement officer's mind is a magical felony! But, I forgot, you people don't give a fuck what happens to us 'muggles'," I finished sarcastically.

Tammy winced, but Cassidy looked as if I finally said something interesting. "I keep forgetting that your first introduction to my world was through Harry Potter," he said thoughtfully.

"What does that have to do with anything?" I demanded.

Cassidy sighed. "Ms. Blake, I'm only in this job because twenty years ago, there wasn't anyone else who wanted to deal with the mess that the Auror department had become," he said. "I'm not a politician or a war hero or any other word that gets battered around. Hell, for the last five years, the politicians have been trying to force me out for someone who will play their game."

"Why are you telling us this?" Micah asked from my side.

"Because a lot of people in my world would treat Harry like he's a part of the political machine, like they did over in England," Cassidy said. "Sixteen years ago, he was somehow involved in the destruction of a dark wizard, and he ceased to be a child. He wasn't a kid, he had to be more in their eyes."

"Why?" Micah asked.

"Because, Mr. Callahan, if they admitted to themselves that Harry Potter was just a child, just a normal boy, then they would have had no excuse for not standing up for Voldemort themselves. This way, they could continue to delude themselves that there was nothing they could do."

"What's your point?" I interrupted.

"My point, Ms. Blake, is that I'm not surprised that you have little time for this," Cassidy shot back. "Mr. Potter's seventeen now, but from what I hear he's been fighting in this war for a long time before any sane person would have put him in that situation."

"Auror Cassidy was a battalion commander in the fight against Grindelwald in World War II," Tammy said quietly to me.

I blinked. "Who?"

"A very dark sorcerer," Cassidy said. "The title sounds more important that it was. I was some twenty-five-year-old kid, leading anyone with a shred of magic into a fight we didn't have hardly any chance of winning. I saw too many sixteen and seventeen-year-old kids die then, Ms. Blake."

I wrapped my arms around my waist, trying to comfort myself, but it wasn't working. When Cassidy said those words, I'd had a sudden vision of Harry lying cold and dead on a stone floor. I swallowed hard. "Then you can understand why I feel like I do about someone who keeps putting kids at risk like he does."

"Albus Dumbledore?" Cassidy said. When I nodded, he shrugged, an undecipherable expression on his face. "I never saw why he went into teaching children."

Nathaniel chose that moment to walk into the living room with a tea tray. Jason was on his heels, Tannis sleeping on his shoulder. Tammy stood up to get her baby while Nathaniel laid the tray on the coffee table.

I thought you were going to stay in the kitchen with Jason, I thought at him.

You calmed down enough so I knew we were going to stay and that it was okay, Nathaniel told me as he sat beside Micah on the couch. That man is working very hard to get you to trust him.

You get that too, huh?

He doesn't smell like he's lying, Nathaniel said. But he's really old. He'd have to be, like, ninety, right?

If he was leading a battalion in the second world war, then yes. I took the coffee cup Micah handed to me. "All right, what did you want to say about Harry?"

Cassidy looked up from where he was pouring himself a cup of tea. "Actually, it starts with our investigation into Spencer."

I gave him an unhappy smile. "And?"

Cassidy took a sip of tea. "Without boring you with the details, while we were going through Spencer's belongings, trying to find out if he had created any more Inferii, other than his wife, we discovered a substance known as Dragon's Breath. Do you know what that is?"

"Some kind of chemical?" I guessed.

"Yes, I suppose it could be called that," Cassidy said. "It can be used as a component in an explosive device. In this case, we found only traces, but through tracing we learned that Spencer bought a large amount about four months ago. A very large amount."

"So he was making a bomb?" I asked.

"As far as we can tell," Cassidy said. "I've had tracer teams out, but we can't find a trace of it."

"Has it been used?" I stopped my next question as my mind finally began to tie together all the things Cassidy had been saying. "You think someone's taken it out of the country, don't you?"

"Spencer had a reputation as an arms dealer, and he was known to have worked with Voldemort's people in the past," Cassidy said. "To have him building a large bomb, then have that bomb disappear, and him killed by one of Voldemort's people, is too pat to be a coincidence."

"Shit," I muttered as I set my coffee cup down. "So, why me? Why not just tell the British authorities?"

"Offers from my government, for assistance to the British ministry of magic for the fight against Voldemort, have been met with suspicion and resentment," Cassidy said. "After being rebuffed, it was made clear that we were not to assist unless asked through proper channels."

"So you came to me to, what, circumvent the rules? Why? Because you're scared for your job?" Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Tammy shake her head.

"Actually, that's exactly it," Cassidy said. I raised my eyebrows. "Voldemort's not the only magical threat in the world right now, Ms. Blake. His presence and the attention of the magical world focused on Britain means that others are trying sneak in under the radar to gain a foothold. I've got a team of twenty people down in Brazil right now, trying to stop a band of sorcerers from doing some serious damage to that continent. If the ministry kicks me out, there's a very real chance they'll attempt to pull everyone back in for review, right at a crucial time."

"But that's insane!"

"Yes," Cassidy said shortly. He picked up a packet of paper at his side and tossed it over. "That there is all the information I have on the explosive device, from my people. Dumbledore might be able to find someone able to use that information to look for the thing."

"How large of a bomb are we talking?" Micah asked.

"Give or take, big enough to bring down a very large building," Cassidy said. "The British Parliament, for example, but I don't think Voldemort's going to be going for a muggle institution on this one."

"Why not?" I asked, pausing in leafing through the paper.

"Because it's not his style to attack the muggles like that," Cassidy said. "In the past, he's used a more direct attack on people. Frankly, using a bomb isn't in his nature."

"Good to see he's thinking outside the box," I said bitterly.

Cassidy stood up. "Thank you for your time, Ms. Blake. Det. Reynolds, thank you." Cassidy nodded at Micah, then his glance slid right over Nathaniel to Jason, who got another nod.

Tammy quickly showed Cassidy out. Once they left the room, I tossed the papers to Micah and stood up, staring down at Nathaniel. He looked back at me, frowning. "What?" he asked softly.

"Why didn't Cassidy say goodbye to you?" I asked. "Dumbledore did the same thing back in August. He said goodbye to everyone in the room but you."

Nathaniel ducked his head and leaned against Micah, who put an arm around the younger wereleopard's shoulders. "I don't know," he said. "I'm not important enough to notice."

I slid to the couch btween Nathaniel and Jason, ending up mostly on Jason's lap, as I hugged Nathaniel between me and Micah. "That's bullshit," I whispered in his ear, and kissed his cheek. "You're very important."

"To you."

"To me too," Micah said from Nathaniel's other side. "And to Jason, and Harry."

I pressed my cheek against Nathaniel's, stayed against him as we heard the front door close and Tammy came back into the living room. She sank down into an armchair and briefly closed her eyes.

"So, is he on the level?" I asked, sitting up a little. It put me more on Jason's lap, but surprisingly, he kept his hands to himself. "Or is this just some weird smokescreen?"

"I can't see how," Tammy said. "But Dolph's going to be pissed."

"I'll say."

"Why?" Micah asked.

Tammy and I looked at each other. "Because the Aurors probably took any kind of evidence with them," Tammy said as she got up. Carefully, she lifted Tannis, still sleeping, out of her playpen and carried her back to the armchair. "We may know who, or rather what, killed Spencer, but we'll never be able to prove it," Tammy said, settling Tannis against her chest. "I hate this, knowing bad things are going to happen and not being in the right place to stop any of it."

"Are you sorry your parents didn't let you go into Cassidy's world?" I had to ask.

Tammy didn't hesitate before shaking her head. "No. Things are less... There's less artifice in this world. It's not as nice, but it's more real."

I stood up. "We should go," I said, as Nathaniel got to his feet beside me.

Tammy adjusted Tannis higher on her shoulder. "Do you want me to see you out?"

"We're fine," Micah said with a smile.

We left Tammy sitting there. Once we were in the jeep, Micah started to flip through the packet of papers that Cassidy had given me. "That was different."

"That's for damned sure," I muttered under my breath as I started the car.

"What are we going to do about Harry?" Jason asked, poking his head between the seats. "Wait for him to call again?"

"Maybe," I said as I put the jeep in gear. "If it was just as simple as mailing it to him, I'm sure Cassidy would have done that, instead of arranging this whole thing with Tammy. Besides, I want to know exactly what those papers say before I send them anywhere."

We drove in silence for a little while, until a hand from the backseat snuck onto my shoulder. Knowing it was Nathaniel, I let him stroke the side of my neck with his fingers, feeling the knot of tension in my stomach ease slightly.

I hated this. I hated that Harry was over there and we were over here, that he was facing dangers we hadn't even thought about and there wasn't a damned thing I could do to help.

Nathaniel's fingers traveled to the base of my spine, and I shivered. "Your seatbelt had better be on," I said to him.

It is, he thought at me, so casually that it took me a moment to realize he was using the marks between us to communicate, not talking. We'll figure this out and help Harry.

You seem to have a lot of faith in that, I said, not all together happily.

I felt his smile like the warmth of the sun against my skin. Yes, he thought quietly. I do.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry rested his head against the stone wall in the infirmary, his mind screaming alert, every muscle tense, as he waited for any change. The room was quiet as a tomb, Madam Pomfrey having swept Dumbledore into an inner chamber as soon as he'd been portkeyed to the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey hadn't said anything to Harry, but the speed with which she worked, and the fact that she used a portkey to move someone so gravely injured inside the castle, wasn't good. It wasn't good at all.

He can't die, Harry thought for the hundredth time. We need him here, to fight Voldemort. We can't do it on our own, we're not powerful enough.

I can't do this alone.

Anita would probably pray, but Harry couldn't do that. He'd gone to church with the Dursleys as a child, for appearances' sake, and the whole event had always felt so incredibly hollow. He had wondered what kind of a God would let his parents die in a car smash, leaving him all alone with people who didn't love him. A God that loved everyone, like the pastor always said, wouldn't have done something like that to Harry. So, there couldn't be a God.

He'd never been able to shake that childish conviction. It was probably too late now, anyway.

The sound of heels tapping on the floor whipped his head around. McGonagall appeared around the corner, and Harry was on his feet before she even reached him. "How is he?" Harry demanded.

"Potter--"

"Is he still alive?"

McGonagall stared at Harry for a long moment, and he felt his heart began to sink. "He's still alive," she finally said.

Harry's knees bucked, making him sit down heavily on the bench. Dumbledore wasn't dead. He was still alive. As long as he was alive, there was a chance.

"Potter, I need you to tell me what happened," McGonagall said, in a voice that was a lot less strident than she had used when she'd rushed past him earlier. "Madam Pomfrey was unable to tell what sort of spell caused such damage, and all you said was--"

"I told her that a spell backfired on him, and I didn't know why," Harry said, sitting up straight. Now that he knew Dumbledore wasn't going to die, a number of thoughts suddenly crowded into his head. What would Dumbledore do? If he wanted McGonagall to know about the Horcruxes, wouldn't he have told her? Or taken her with him down into the cavern? He took a deep breath and prepared to lie. "He said he'd explain all that he was doing after he cast the spell, but it went wrong and I don't know why."

McGonagall's eyes were boring into him, but Harry cleared his mind and met her gaze. "Where did he take you for this spell?"

Harry shrugged. "We portkeyed there, I didn't recognize it."

Another pause. "How did you return?"

"The portkey was set on a timer or something," Harry said. "Did Madam Pomfrey say anything about when Dumbledore would be awake?"

"She did not," McGonagall said stiffly. "And in the meantime, Potter, you cannot tell anyone what has happened the headmaster."

"But--"

"No buts. If certain people found out he was incapacitated, it would put the school and everyone in it, in peril."

"Voldemort," Harry said grimly.

"Among others," McGonagall said. She straightened her robe. "Unless you have anything else to tell me, on your way."

"I'm not going anywhere!" Harry exclaimed. "I'm staying right here until he wakes up!"

"You cannot do that."

Harry crossed his arms across his chest and set his jaw. "Unless they're taking Dumbledore to St. Mungo's hospital, which I really doubt after what you told me, then I am staying here!"

McGonagall narrowed her eyes. "And how will you explain why you are here? No other student is in the infirmary. If you stay, your friends will come to find you, putting unnecessary attention on the place. How long do you think it will take before rumors begin?"

Harry stared down at his shoes. McGonagall was right, and he hated it. He didn't want to leave, in case Dumbledore needed him for anything.

But what would the greatest wizard in the world want from him? He hadn't even been able to help the man with destroying the Horcruxes.

Getting to his feet, Harry shuffled over to the window, aware of McGonagall's eyes on him. The day was dreary, but it wasn't raining, not yet. A drift of smoke caught Harry's attention, and he spotted Hagrid coming out of the Forbidden Forest, Fang at his side.

Harry whirled around. "Has anyone told Hagrid?"

"No."

"Someone has to tell Hagrid," Harry said in a rush. "He needs to know!"

Harry thought McGonagall was going to argue with him, tell him that Hagrid was too much of a liability. Hagrid couldn't lie to save his life, and if keeping Dumbledore's condition was as much a secret as McGonagall was saying...

"Would you go tell him?" McGonagall asked rather gently, surprising Harry.

He nodded quickly. "I'll tell him that he needs to come up here, that something happened that a teacher needs to--" Harry froze. "Snape! Does Snape know? Because if he does, then Voldemort is going to find out!"

"Professor Snape would never endanger this school or the headmaster," McGonagall said sternly.

"But he's a spy!"

"Exactly, for our side." McGonagall lifted her head imperiously, making it seem as if she was looking down at Harry, even though they were the same height. "In any event, Professor Snape left the school before breakfast this morning."

Snape was gone? "Why? Where'd he go?" Harry demanded.

"The headmaster sent him on an errand, he will be back in a few days," McGonagall said. "Now, if you're going to go tell Hagrid, do so now. I'll be waiting up here for him."

Harry blinked a few times, then turned toward the door for the infirmary. Snape wasn't there. Snape was gone.

Dumbledore had sent Snape away.

"Potter, you cannot go out there like that," McGonagall called after him.

He stopped and looked down at himself. He'd used his robe on Dumbledore's wound, and his white shirt was covered in Dumbledore's drying blood.

Suddenly nauseated, Harry whipped out his wand and cleaned his shirt, then transfigured it into a black school robe with the flick of a wrist. Keeping his wand in his hand, he continued out of the infirmary.

He was dimly aware that he passed several students, but he didn't particularly care who they were. It didn't matter, not with Dumbledore lying upstairs in the infirmary almost dead and the Horcruxes not an inch closer to be being destroyed.

Dumbledore sent Snape away.

An uncomfortable thought was growing in Harry's head. Dumbledore had sent Snape away that morning, not on Saturday. Now the man was going to miss classes, which Harry couldn't remember Snape ever doing in the past.

Dumbledore sent Snape away this morning, and then sent for me, and we tried to destroy the Horcruxes, and Dumbledore almost died. McGonagall told me I can't tell anyone in case it gets back to Voldemort.

Harry burst out the front doors, almost tripping down the stone steps and not really caring.

Did Dumbledore know something like this was going to happen?

Dumbledore hadn't told Harry what had happened when he destroyed the first Horcrux, the ring. What if Dumbledore had known this was going to happen? Was that why he took Harry down there and shown him how to do the spell? In case something happened to Dumbledore?

How could he do something like that? Harry wondered, feeling anger stirring his beast. Why didn't he just tell me?

"Harry!" Hagrid shouted in greeting. "Come t' see me?"

There was a happy grin on the half-giant's face, and Harry hated himself for what he was about to do. "Hi, Hagrid." He got closer, making sure there was no one else around, before he said, "You should probably go up to the infirmary."

"Why?" Hagrid asked, putting his wheelbarrow down against the wall. "Sumpthin' happen?"

Harry made himself take a deep breath. "Dumbledore was--" Was what? Almost destroyed by a wild spell? A conniving old man who probably knew this was going happen? "-- hurt this morning and McGonagall wants to see you, up in the infirmary."

Hagrid stared at Harry, his grin half-frozen. "What happened? Is he goin'..." He shook his head. "Nah, he'll be fine. Right as rain in a day or so!"

Harry pasted a smile on his face, feeling sick to his stomach. "I'm sure he will be."

"Right." Hagrid squared his shoulders. "I should--"

"Go, it's okay. He'll be fine," Harry said again. Watching Hagrid hurry toward the castle, Harry couldn't shake the feeling that he had just lied to Hagrid. His very first friend ever, Hagrid had always believed in Harry, no matter what was going on, no matter what Harry had done.

Just like Dumbledore always believed in Hagrid.

Fang shambled up to Harry and licked his hand with a slobbery tongue. Harry looked down at the huge boarhound for a few minutes before he saw what Fang was so interested in.

Harry had blood on his hands.

He barely had time to stumble over to the bushes before he threw up. When he was done, feeling empty and gross and horrible, he went to the water pump outside Hagrid's hut and took long drinks until the aching in his stomach abated somewhat.

Fang licked at the water on the pump until Harry summoned the dog's water bowl and filled it up. He watched the dog drink, making an utter mess over the grass, and wishing his life was that simple.

"What am I going to do?" Harry asked Fang. "What would you do?"

Fang paused in his drinking long enough to give Harry a baleful look, then went back to his bowl.

"What the hell am I going to do?" Harry asked himself, sitting on a rock. I can't do anything to help Dumbledore. I'm not even supposed to tell anyone!

Not that McGonagall's restriction mattered; Harry was going to tell Ron and Hermione anyway. They wouldn't tell anyone that Dumbledore was hurt.

Harry pressed his palms against his face. He couldn't get the stink of burning flesh out of his head, of the feel of thick blood and other things that should never be seen, all because Harry was too slow to be able to help.

In desperation, he wondered what Anita would do if this happened to her. He had heard stories, that she had been through some really horrible stuff, but she still kept on going, until the job was done.

This isn't over yet, Harry told himself, taking his hands away from his face. Dumbledore's not dead, and neither is Voldemort. We need to stop Voldemort, and if Dumbledore's not able to help, then I have to do it myself.

~*~

Harry was mildly surprised when the stone gargoyles outside of Dumbledore's office let him in without a fight. He went up the stone stairs without a sound, not really sure what he was going to do, but knowing that he didn't have much time. McGonagall probably had her hands full with Hagrid at the moment, but soon she might be coming to this very office.

The muttering portraits went still when Harry slipped through the door. "You, boy, you shouldn't be in here," said one curly-haired witch in a portrait by the window.

Harry ignored them, drawn to the spot on the carpet where Dumbledore had fallen. Still-red blood soaked the carpet, almost hiding the ropes that Harry had used to bind Dumbledore's wound, and their hands together around the portkey.

Fall apart later! Harry screamed at himself. He turned his back on the stain and dropped to his knees to look for the tiny portkey pebble. It took him ten minutes, but he finally located the stone under a bookshelf. Heeding what Dumbledore had said about it going off every half hour if it was touching skin or clothing, Harry used his wand to levitate the tiny rock to the top of the desk. Hoping Dumbledore wouldn't mind if Harry borrowed one of the tiny trinkets in the office, he placed the stone in a small silver box, and shoved the entire thing in his trousers' pocket.

The portraits continued to talk over Harry's head, casting the occasional comment at him. He tuned them out and looked around the office. He had the portkey, but what else would he need to learn how to destroy the Horcruxes? Dumbledore's spell alone wasn't going to be enough, as they'd seen down in the cavern.

Hermione makes a ton of notes, maybe Dumbledore would too, Harry thought. But where would he keep them?

A quick "Accio Horcrux spell notes!" didn't move anything in the room, so Harry rolled up his sleeves and set to work. Two of the desk drawers wouldn't open, and the remaining drawers didn't seem to have anything resembling spell notes. Harry tried magic to unlock the drawers, but nothing budged. Frustrated, he moved over to the cupboards.

He still didn't find any spell notes, but he did find something of almost equal interest. The Marauders' Map.

He stared at the empty parchment for a moment, then unfolded it on Dumbledore's desk to tap it with his wand, saying, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good." Truer words were never spoken, he thought as lines began to spread across the map.

McGonagall was still in the Infirmary with Hagrid, Harry saw. He left the map open on the desk as he went back to rooting around in the cupboards.

Half an hour later, he still hadn't found a thing. "This is hopeless!" he said, kicking the desk in frustration.

"Stealing from the headmaster usually is," said the portrait of Phineas Black, glaring down at him.

Harry retuned the glare. "Don't suppose you know where Dumbledore hides his spell notes? Or a diary?"

The portrait gave him a beady stare. "So you can rob him blind? Hardly likely!"

Harry restrained himself from making a rude gesture at the portrait and leaned back against the cupboard door. He was about to give up. Where would Dumbledore hide something he didn't want found?

Looking around the office again, Harry couldn't help but think that something was just the tiniest bit... off. He had felt a similar sensation when he walked into the room that morning, but he hadn't paid it much attention, as Dumbledore wanted to talk about the Horcruxes. But the closer Harry looked around the office, the more the thought slipped away.

Calm down, and it'll come to you, Harry thought, his inner voice sounding a lot like Hermione. Just breathe, just relax. When that didn't work, Harry slipped into his Occlumency, focusing on clearing his mind, making things smooth and calm.

Snags in his head were hard to smooth over, and each snag was a smell. The smell of blood, of charred flesh, of a dank stone cavern, of failure... each took an eternity to smooth over, but finally Harry's mind was calm.

He opened his eyes and looked slowly around the room. Nothing jumped out at him, but that was okay, that was fine, it would come to him at some point, that was the way it worked, teasing out the tangles instead of hacking them off....

The Sorting Hat was on the wrong place.

Harry cocked his head to the side. When he had come into Dumbledore's office before, after the Welcoming Feast, the Sorting Hat had been on the far left of its shelf. Now, it was more in the centre of the shelf.

The Hat had been used to hide something in the past. Godric Gryffindor's sword had been in the Hat when Dumbledore's phoenix Fawkes had dropped it down to Harry during the fight with the Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets.

Feeling hopeful for the first time all day, Harry carefully lifted the Hat up and placed it on his head.

"Hello?" Harry said.

The Hat stirred. Yes? it said sleepily. It's not time for another sorting is it, Harry Potter?

"Not yet," Harry said. "But I'm looking for something, some papers Dumbledore may have been trying to hide. Did he hide them in you?"

Whatever makes you say that? the Hat asked.

"Because you helped me out once before, and I don't think anyone else knows that you can hide things in you," Harry said. "Do you have the notes? It's really very important, please."

The Hat shifted restlessly on Harry's head. How am I supposed to know if I can trust you?

"You can see into my head, can't you? You know I'm... being honest."

The Hat chuckled. You were going to say trustworthy.

"I've been rifling the Headmaster's papers, I'm not sure you can call that trustworthy."

But at least you are honest. The Hat went silent. Just as Harry thought the thing wasn't going to help him, something heavy fell on top of his head.

He whipped the Hat off and pulled out large sheaf of parchment, rolled up tight. It was in Dumbledore's hand writing. "Thanks, Hat," Harry said quickly, putting the Hat back on the shelf in the place it had been at the start of the year. Going over to the desk, he quickly unrolled the parchment.

In Dumbledore's handwriting, in the middle of the page, Harry spotted the word "Horcrux," and let out a breath. "This is it," he said, wondering why he felt so unhappy. This was what he had wanted, to find the notes on the spell.

Maybe because these notes hadn't helped Dumbledore.

Shaking his head, Harry rolled up the parchment. As he did so, a moving dot on the Map drew his attention.

McGonagall was heading toward Dumbledore's office.

"Shit!" Harry said with feeling as he grabbed the Map and the parchment, and bolted toward the door. He didn't have time to clean up the mess he'd made. Maybe McGonagall would think that Dumbledore had made the mess.

I doubt it! The door banged shut behind him as he ran down the stone steps, pausing by the gargoyles to make sure the corridor was empty. He heard footsteps around the corner, but he didn't wait to get caught. He ran.

Harry didn't stop running until he was at the end of the secret passage that led to the abandoned Hogwarts wing where he had practiced becoming an Animagus. He hurried to the same dusty classroom he had used before. locking the door shut behind him.

Hunger and exhumation pushed at the edges of his vision, but Harry didn't have time for that. He needed to figure out how to destroy those Horcruxes. Even with the best of intentions, someone might let it slip that Dumbledore was badly hurt. Or...

Or he might die, Harry thought, the mere idea churning in his gut. If that's so, I need to find the rest of the Horcruxes and destroy them, so I can kill Voldemort once and for all.

Grimly, Harry pushed two desks together and unrolled the parchment on top of them. He had work to do.

to be continued...

Another note: A bit of an answer to one of the questions in the Anita section of the story can be found in this AB drabble I wrote a few years ago, Brother.