The Hearts Eclipse

Chapter 9: Interlude

Notes:

This chapter is an interlude, not a regular chapter. Many of readers asked to know what was happening back at Hogwarts while Harry and Draco were missing. This is your chance to see. This chapter takes place the night that Harry and Draco escape from Voldemort's dungeons. It is told from Albus Dumbledore's point of view.

************************************************************************

I've lost him, and this time, I cannot say with any assurance that I will succeed in saving him. I had worried that the greatest threat to Harry was his own impertinence and rebelliousness – not that those traits are unwarranted, oh no. Harry's shortcomings in this case are no fault of his own, but instead are the product of my own foolishness. I had underestimated his spirit and determination, and to ignore him had ignited a fire that cannot be quenched until he finds his retribution. Still, with an understanding of the situation, I had hoped he would be able to accept what protection I could offer until the proper time came for him to face Voldemort alone. But I digress, as old men often do. It was not Harry's fault, not entirely. He did not run off impulsively; he did not even leave of his own accord. With all the things outside of these walls from which I intended to keep Harry safe, I'd never considered the threats within. I never expected one of my own students to go so far.

Should I have seen the threat in Draco Malfoy? Doubtlessly. You see, as much as I underestimated Harry, I underestimated young Mr. Malfoy. I once discussed the possible threat from Mr. Malfoy with Severus. His thoughts on the matter were unclear. He warned me not to underestimate Draco's capability as a menace, but told me he had hope that me that under the right circumstances the young man might be scared and impressionable enough to be turned. He was surely a Malfoy, convinced of the superiority of pure wizard blood and the importance of power, but Severus was certain that Draco did not have the composition and character of a Death Eater. He was unaccustomed to pressure, and just a bit too scared. Severus suspected that when the time came, Draco would crack under the pressure. So many other young witches and wizards like Draco had attempted to serve Voldemort, confident in their hatred, anger, and prejudices, only to die of a case of cold feet. The only thing in question was whether Draco's hatred was stronger than his fear. I should have realized the threat after Lucius was imprisoned. My simple, foolish mistake may have cost us everything.

The morning of Harry's disappearance was most terrible. I had been sitting in this very seat at the head of the Great Hall. I'd awoken with a most uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach that morning, but having indulged in a few too many lemon sherbets before bed the previous night, I had dismissed it. Then I saw Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley enter the hall, noticeably devoid of their usual companion. Both of them looked rather flustered, and after scanning the hall for a moment, Hermione grabbed Ronald by the sleeve and practically bowled over several students in her rush to the High Table. I daresay that she would have run into me had the table not stopped her.

"Headmaster," Miss Granger said breathlessly, wringing her hands as she spoke, "I don't mean to make a fuss out of what could be nothing, because Harry does tend to take off on his own a lot lately, but last night, he went looking for his Potions assignment, because he thought he might have dropped it, you see, but this morning –"

"Hermione, shut up!" Ronald yanked his arm free of her grasp. "Sir, Harry's missing. We've looked everywhere."

I stood and looked down at them, unsure of what to say. "Odd feelings" are not the sort of thing that children need to hear when they're already frantic with worry. Not that they're normal children, by any standards. I was just about to ask them to follow me to my office when the door to the Great Hall flew open with a crash. Severus had burst into the hall, looking as worried as is possible for him. He strode to the High Table, and slapped down a rumpled piece of parchment.