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The Art of Self-Fashioning	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 26077 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this story.

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Chapter Forty-Seven—Singing in the Darkness
Harry had shut himself in the library at the top of the main stairs and made sure to tell everyone not to disturb him. After one glance in his direction, Professor McGonagall had agreed, and Terry had nodded without looking up from his food. Harry thought Granger might need more convincing, but he trusted Neville and Weasley to keep her away.
Regulus was the only one who had protested, a little. He had followed Harry to the library’s door and frowned at the stack of books Harry had set up to help himself. “Do you expect to come out of this sane?”
Harry blinked. “Expectation has nothing to do with it.”
“Hope?”
“Nothing, either.”
Regulus smiled, then, and the expression made Harry smile back without knowing precisely why. Regulus nodded, and ruffled his hair, once, the way Harry had sometimes dreamed of his father doing. “I see. It’s pure knowledge that you’re going to come out of there sane.”
“I will accept nothing less.”
“Then good luck, Harry.” Regulus didn’t spend any more time trying to convince him, but turned and strode rapidly down the stairs. Harry watched him until he was out of sight, then quietly closed the door and locked it with the strongest spell he knew. Then he set Spellmaker to watch it. She had been a wand. She would deal better with magic than almost any of his other animals.
Harry sat down in front of the books and spent some more time reading them, more confirming the knowledge he already had locked in his mind than giving himself anything new. When he was sure he was ready, he closed his eyes and hurtled into the depths of his mind, and focused on the collection of feathers and stones in front of him.
He called on the Wild, as he never had before, and his wand began to move, and incantation after incantation spilled from his tongue.
It was a different kind of Wild than he had used when he made Yar—not brooding, not predatory. It had something of the lightness that he had used for the cats and the mice, but those were different, too. They ran on four feet, for one thing, not two legs and two wings. And they mewed or squeaked or most often made no sound at all when they were his creations, but the important difference in this case was more profound than that.
They didn’t sing.
The songbirds’ voices bubbled deep in his own voice, in his imagination, in the summoned Wild. It was there, and behind it came a stamina and determination that guided Yar’s wings, but this time, would animate small bodies.
Songbirds were tiny. They didn’t kill easily like Yar. But they migrated thousands of miles around the world, and they sang in a way that made a lot of people not want to kill them, and they tirelessly protected their nests and brooded their eggs and defended their territories. His were going to have all those traits, only now they would fly in search of the Horcruxes, and sing when they found them, and defend themselves against any protections Voldemort might have put on his Horcruxes.
And into them, he wove a scrap of the Wild that he had found in Nagini, that they might recognize and steer away from Dark Marks.
A muffled wave of chirping made Harry open his eyes.
There were birds everywhere in the room, their heads turned to fix one eye each on him. There were skylarks, and robins, and goldcrests, and barn swallows, and wrens, and blackcaps, and warblers too numerous to count. Harry had to smile a little when he saw the way the shelves bowed under them. He hoped they weren’t shitting too badly on the precious books in the Black library.
He stood up. The birds stopped chirping at once and all stared at him in a way that was more than slightly creepy.
Harry nodded and whistled the sour note of a Horcrux that Neville had taught him. Immediately, the birds whistled and sang back, and Harry had to clap his hands over his ears. That they were his creations didn’t matter. They could still deafen him.
But at least they recognized the note, and they were reacting the way he wanted them to: they surrounded the sour note and sang it down.
“That’s right,” Harry said, when he could catch his breath. He took a step back and made his way to the window, ducking past fluttering wings and catching claws. Then he opened the window, and the birds began to funnel out, not really in any order but not crushing each other, either, the tiny goldcrests and wrens ducking and squeezing between the others, the skylarks lifting in spirals the moment they were free.
And they broke away, in different directions, calling and singing as they went, heading for the notes of the Horcruxes. Harry didn’t know where they were, yet.
But as soon as his creations found them, he would.

*
“I have to admit, this audience is…unexpected, Dumbledore.”
Albus stood up and smiled a little, wanly. “Cornelius. Is it really unexpected when you know all the things we need to discuss?”
The Minister gave a put-upon sigh and sat down behind his desk. “My dear Dolores told me that you’re interfering with her running of Hogwarts, Albus. And that you appear to have lost two of your professors that she hadn’t got around to sacking. What do you think you can say that will counter her word?”
“I’m sorry.”
Cornelius’s face changed a little, but not as much as it would have if he had known what was coming. With a heart so heavy that it felt like he had filled himself with sand, Albus flicked his wand, murmuring, “Imperio.”
Albus felt a shudder of sickness ripple through him as Cornelius slumped over the desk. He hated doing this more than he could say. He wanted to hurl his wand from him and spend the rest of time scrubbing his hands.
But he had made the step. The war was more important than his own personal feelings—or failings. He would never get Umbridge out of the school on his own, therefore he had to make sure that Cornelius would do it.
“You will suggest to Madam Umbridge that she attend a special meeting at the Ministry,” he told Cornelius calmly. “You are going to promote her, from Hogwarts Defense professor to Under-minister. A new post, created especially for her. In the meantime, you will keep an eye on her and make sure that she is more closely supervised than ever in her new position.”
Cornelius didn’t nod, but Albus felt the faint twitch of agreement that ran through him. Albus shuddered again. Although this was necessary, it reminded him far too much of his time with Gellert to be pleasant.
But he had made his choice. He was committed.
“In the meantime,” he added, “you will alert all your Aurors to be searching for Neville Longbottom and Harry Potter. And Augusta Longbottom,” he added, after a moment’s thought. The old woman wasn’t that important in and of herself, but she could be either a powerful lure or a powerful brake on Neville.
“Potter…something about Potter…”
Albus raised an eyebrow, surprised. He hadn’t thought Cornelius would have enough will even for a few words on his own. Then again, victims of the Imperius Curse could continue speaking of something important that had been worrying them before the curse was cast. “Yes? What about Harry Potter?”
“There was…there was.” Cornelius frowned, and Albus loosed the curse as much as he dared. He didn’t think more was safe. Then again, it wasn’t as if he had regularly practiced with this curse to know that. “There was a visitor.”
“Visitor? Where?” If Potter had left hiding to visit the Ministry or somewhere else important, Albus should have heard about it.
“Parents. St. Mungo’s. A visit to the Potter parents, in St. Mungo’s. No one can remember the man’s face. Or voice. But they somehow know he was there. Some people were saying it was You-Know-Who. Ridiculous.”
Albus tapped his fingers against his wand. What could Voldemort want with Harry’s parents? It didn’t seem likely he would have simply visited and not killed them. Then again, it could have been a Death Eater with specific instructions—but that brought up the same dilemma of what they had done, since James and Lily were still alive. Most of the spells Voldemort favored to punish people or coerce them to his will wouldn’t work on those driven mad by the Cruciatus.
Almost, Albus thought about going to St. Mungo’s and asking to look in on James and Lily. He had been shamefully remiss about visiting them, anyway. In fact, he didn’t think he’d been since the year after Tom’s initial fall.
But he had other things to do, things that would be hurt if he delayed them. He sighed a little and let it go. “Just do what you’re told, Cornelius.” When it looked as if the Minister might argue, he subtly strengthened the grip of the curse.
“Ye-yes,” said Cornelius, and stood and bustled out of the room with a vacant expression to go and tell the Aurors to search for Harry and Neville.
Albus paused one more time, the thought of the expression on Cornelius’s face catching at him, but then he shook his head and left. It wasn’t as though the Aurors were unused to dealing with a Fudge who looked vacant, anyway.
*
Harry had been watching the raven on the windowsill for almost an hour.
When he’d first seen it, it had seemed like a normal bird to him, but then it had turned its head and stared at him with malevolent, intelligent eyes. It reminded him of the way Yar tended to look at other birds. Harry had settled back and ignored the way it tapped on the glass.
He wasn’t sure he wanted a raven that looked at him like that in the house with him.
From the sound of things, Regulus had come into the library behind him, but Harry didn’t stir. Perhaps the raven was waiting for him to drop his guard.
“Is that—an Angelus Raven?”
“A which?” Harry asked, not glancing at Regulus. He had known the bird wasn’t normal, but he hadn’t known it had a special kind of name.
“An Angelus Raven.” Regulus’s voice was tense, and he moved off to the side and palmed his wand. Harry knew that, but he didn’t see why it was worth turning around for. “They’re used as messengers. Not nearly as much since we trained owls, but sometimes since then, if the message is important or enchanted with Dark magic.”
“That makes sense,” Harry murmured. He knew most animals reacted badly to Dark magic; his didn’t only because he had enchanted them to stay with him and obey him. “Probably delivering a message from Lord Dudders, do you think?”
“I wish you wouldn’t call him that,” Regulus said on a breath, but in a resigned tone. He only watched as Harry stood and went towards the window. Harry did pause before he opened it, to call Spellmaker. The grey cat slinked into the room and leaped lightly to his shoulder. If she feared the Angelus Raven, she didn’t show it.
Well, she was Bellatrix’s wand. Maybe she’s been around this bird before.
The moment Harry got the window open far enough, the raven flew into the room. Its wings passed over him like the shadow of a cliff, and it landed on the table and turned to stare. Standing like this, it was taller than him.
“Deliver your message,” Harry said, and met its gaze. That hadn’t been hard when the raven was on the far side of the glass. The raven seemed disconcerted that Harry didn’t find it difficult now, either.
Head cocked, it moved towards him. It was studying Spellmaker as much as him, Harry thought. He wondered if Lord Dudders had a way of communicating with it in detail, as well as sending it off to do evil. Well, he would ask Regulus later.
The message was within reach. Harry reached out a hand to take it.
Swift as a winged horse, the Angelus Raven darted out its head to bite his finger.
Harry never found out whether it was actually trying to take a finger off, or wanted some of his blood, or what. He didn’t have to wait to find out, because the krait he had conjured to threaten Snape darted its head out of his sleeve and bit the raven on the leg.
Since Snape’s attack, Harry didn’t go anywhere without that snake.
The Angelus Raven screamed and fluttered its wings, trying to head for the ceiling or out the window—Harry wasn’t sure which. The krait flew with it for a moment, and then dropped to the floor and crawled under the table to hide. Harry’s biggest concern when creating his animals was that they be loyal to him, but after that, they were supposed to try and save themselves.
“I didn’t know that could happen,” said Regulus, his eyes fastened on the Raven as it flew and shrieked. “Why did you have the krait do it?”
“The raven was going to bite me,” Harry said, and glanced at the message the raven had dropped on the table. Ignoring the way the wings above him had started jerking and collapsing—if the raven didn’t want to die, it shouldn’t have tried to bite Harry—he called the krait back up out of hiding. After a few moments of gesturing, which made him wish again that he could speak Parseltongue, the krait got his intention and coiled around the message from Lord Dudders, pulling it open.
There were a few sparks of lightning as he did so, but apparently none of the spells located in the paper could harm a krait. Harry leaned forwards to read.
Harry Potter,
I have a deal to propose. You will return my captive Death Eaters and Nagini to me. You may keep Severus Snape, who is a traitor less useful to me than I believed. That should be more than enough grounds for your revenge.
In return, I will remove the spell I have placed on your parents. You did not guard them well enough. They were easy to infect. The spell means that they cannot be healed by any magic that you can employ. Not by Transfiguration, not by any potion, not by any combination of Charms or even Dark Arts.
Should you try, their very brains will dissolve and become nothing more than soup inside their skulls. I think you should consider, very carefully, whether you want to try anything on them after this.
You will want to look up the spell, of course, to make sure that it exists and functions as I say it does. But I will spare you some effort. It can only be canceled by my death. You will not want to take the risk, I am certain, of touching your parents with any magic while you still retain my Death Eaters and my Nagini.
And I should add that this does not apply only to you. While the Healers have largely given up on ever healing the Cruciatus Curse, sometimes one of them does approach your parents, secure in the knowledge that whatever they try will not hurt them much. Severus was the one who reported this information to me, the last time he had some use. And he hinted that there was a rising new group of Healers who would like to try their skills…
I would not linger over your decision.
Lord Voldemort.
The curls on the last of the letters were made with darker ink than the rest, Harry noticed, leaning only a little closer to study them. It looked as if blood might have been mixed with the ink. Knowing Lord Dudders, it wouldn’t be his own, even though that might be the most effective if Harry had been stupid enough to touch the letter with his bare hands.
Harry stepped back from the letter, his head cocked. He heard Regulus shifting anxiously behind him, and he nodded to him over his shoulder. Then he stood back against the wall and spent some moments battling with the black rage that had risen like a cold wave from the core of his being.
He would not dash off and try to take vengeance on Lord Dudders immediately. It was impractical. He would still have the Horcruxes—which he probably didn’t think Harry knew about—and he would be a problem.
Harry would do something else, instead.
“Regulus,” he murmured, and Regulus turned around with an ashen face and what were probably words of sympathy in his mouth. Harry cut him off. Yes, it might be nice to listen to words of sympathy, but he frankly didn’t have the time. “What books would I look in to confirm the existence of this spell?”
Regulus swallowed several times before he said, “You don’t need to look it up. I know it exists.”
“But I want confirmation,” Harry said. “That means looking it up.”
“All right,” said Regulus. “All right. I just—when are you going to meet with him to turn over the captured Death Eaters? He didn’t specify that. I suppose he thinks you’ll make the arrangements as soon as you can.”
Harry stared at Regulus. Was there a charm on the parchment to turn someone else’s brain to soup? But no, Regulus hadn’t touched the parchment. “I’m not going to do that.”
“But—what he did to your parents—”
“I’m not going to hand over the Death Eaters. They’re essential to figuring out how to unwind the Wild from my parents’ bodies and cure them.”
“Then what are you going to do?”
“He said the spell could only be canceled by his death. I’m going to kill him, of course.”
Regulus swallowed slowly. “But—you don’t know where all his Horcruxes are yet. I thought you said that you needed to know that before you could destroy him.”
“Of course I do.” Harry shrugged. “There are ways that I can speed up the birds’ finding of them. And then I can go and destroy them. Will you go with me? I’m going to ask Professor McGonagall, too.”
“What about Longbottom and Boot and the rest?”
Harry blinked at him. “Why? They’re children. They could get hurt by the curses that protect the Horcruxes. I thought you would support leaving them behind.”
For no reason that Harry could discern, Regulus chuckled, and seemed to relax. “Well, you might ask them if they would still like to go. There’s a difference between going and actually fighting whatever the Dark Lord chose to guard his Horcruxes.”
“Perhaps,” Harry said, and shrugged a little. “I have to go tighten my connections to the birds so I can find the Horcruxes in a chain instead of just going to whichever one was nearest, and then the next one furthest away.” He turned towards the door.
“How will you tighten the connections?”
“Reach out and manipulate the Wild around each bird.” A glance at Regulus’s face showed he didn’t understand, but then again, Harry still had trouble explaining something he understood so well in words. “It will take a few hours. Then we can look up the spell and begin the search. I’ll ask Professor McGonagall if she wants to come with us. Why don’t you ask the others?”
Regulus nodded slowly and watched Harry leave with those same unfathomable eyes. At his feet, the dead Angelus Raven had much the same gaze.
*
Harry opened his eyes and sat in the darkness for a time. He had to control himself, the wild beating of his heart that echoed the beating of the birds’ hearts, and the urge to spring up and sing and fly. He sat still until he knew where he was again, and that he had hands instead of wings.
At least now I know why some birds were on the roof and didn’t fly away, he thought as he stood. Then he made his way out of the study and inclined his head to Professor McGonagall, who was coming down the stairs. The part of him that still thought like a bird wanted to flutter wildly out of the way, screaming Cat! Cat! Cat! in his head. Harry calmed himself down by force and said, “I know where the Horcruxes are. Do you want to come with me when I go destroy them, Professor?”
“Yes. Regulus told me about your quest, and I must say that I think you should have adult company, as well as animal company.” Professor McGonagall frowned. “I am less sure about the others coming with you.”
“We will ask them,” Harry said. “We’re not going to take them into Gringotts, or inside the building where one of them is.”
“Gringotts?”
“The vaults of one of his followers, I think. It won’t matter. Either they’re one of the Death Eaters I have here, or they’re someone I can easily capture. Nothing is going to stand in the way of my taking him down now.”
Professor McGonagall stood and looked into his face for a moment. Then she nodded. “I think that’s true,” she said, and stepped off the stair she stood on, and walked past him. While she did, her hand trailed gently down his arm. Harry stood and listened to her walk until the echoes of her feet had died.
Then he went to the library where he knew Regulus was.
Regulus looked up when Harry came in, and sighed a little, putting his cup down. “I’ve talked to the others. Granger is nervous, but wants to go with Longbottom. Weasley is the same. And Longbottom’s sense of honor is stronger than his fear. I think Boot might have hesitated, but he doesn’t want to stay here by himself with Death Eater prisoners, either.”
Harry nodded. He honestly hadn’t expected anything else. “There is a question I want to ask you.”
Regulus blinked. “Of course.”
“When were you going to tell me that one of Lord Dudders’s Horcruxes is hidden in your house?”
*
Jester: Glad you like it! And what unnerves you about Hermione? Snape I can see.
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The Art of Self-Fashioning