Harry Potter and the Blind Seer of Durmstrang

Chapter 24

Harry stood still, frozen, tense and waiting. He wondered if Voldemort could hear the wild beating of his heart, loud in his own ears. No! his mind screamed. It's too soon!

"Do you have anything for me?" asked Voldemort in a low voice, as if he conferred with a fellow conspirator.

For a moment, Harry felt confused. He'd expected an immediate curse, had braced himself for the pain of Cruciatus, or worse, the green light and... For a second, he wondered if he'd heard right. What did Voldemort mean? Then it hit him. Voldemort did not know. Somehow, through sheer luck or good timing or the stupidity of the Death Eaters, Voldemort didn't realize that Harry had not turned traitor. Harry clawed frantically through his memory searching for words to hand to Voldemort, to weave a net of safety around himself and his friends. Voldemort must have assumed that his offer to Harry was irresistible, Harry thought. Somehow, he must not have realized it was Harry who had rescued O'Carolan. Harry could hardly believe it was possible, and yet here he was, whispering secret words to Harry, rather than cursing him.

And then, like a rush of cold water, Voldemort entered Harry's mind. Harry knew it happened this time, powerless to stop it. Harry had only a moment to cover his confusion. He could not hide his fear and doubt from the mind that searched his own. He was naked before the Dark Lord, and in another moment Voldemort would know everything. Desperately, Harry did the only thing he could think of. He imagined his parents. With his entire mind, he pictured them hugging him, laughing, congratulating him on his quidditch wins.

The distraction worked. Voldemort let out his breath in a slow hiss, and like a whip crack, he withdrew from Harry's mind. "Yes," he said with satisfaction. You want to see them, don't you?"

Harry nodded.

"And you want this," continued Voldemort. As he said it, Harry's head jerked. Once again, he was looking out through Voldemort's eyes. The rush of color assaulted Harry's brain like the sudden noise of a rock track with the volume turned on maximum. He fought to keep from retching. This time, instead of the darkness of the night and woodland glade, the room was well-lit. Reds and greens, blues and purples and creamy white all flew into Harry's brain at once in a kaleidoscope of nauseating color. Harry wondered if he was going to be sick after all. It was too much after months of his brain relaxing into the blurry grey nothingness and sound-rich world he'd inhabited.

Just as suddenly as the wash of sensation had raped his brain, it was gone. He was left breathing hard, and squinting through his own eyes, reeling from the dizzying experience.

"Yes," Voldemort said, as if to himself. "You want that." It wasn't a question.

A small thought slithered into Harry's mind that maybe he didn't want that. So new and tiny in its newborn existence, the thought startled him with its entering his head at all. Of course, he'd want to see if he could, right? Well, unless the price was too high, of course. Until this moment, the price had been in terms of his friends, of giving them up to the Dark Lord, of becoming a Death Eater, of having to kill and main and hurt. Now, it occurred to him that there might be other prices to pay as well.

No matter. He'd already made up his mind.

Unbidden, the image of his parents floated into his mind again. Could Voldemort bring them back? It was a high price to pay, truly. Maybe, just maybe it was worth it?

Harry suddenly became aware of the silence in the room. It hung awkwardly in the air, trailing after Voldemort's question.

"Err..." Harry stuttered. "Err, have something?"

"News. Your decision. I won't wait forever," Voldemort said impatiently.

Harry's brain spun. This was it. He must be believable now or everything was lost. He suddenly realized what a terrible risk he'd taken, that they all had taken. His job was to lie to the most evil wizard in a century, one known for his ability to sniff out treachery in his followers. The thing was ridiculous. He'd never be able to do it. He stalled. "You can really bring back my parents?" he asked timidly.