A Stubborn Wizard

"Sanity is madness put to good uses."

~George Santayana, Little Essays

Tearing his hand out of Hermione's comforting embrace, Harry bolted out of his chair. His mouth opened, but no words came out. His gaze flew from one watching face to the next. Sidling around his chair, he began to back towards the door of Minerva's office.

"No," he said emphatically, shaking his head from side to side. "No...I'm not...I'm not any such thing!"

"I'm afraid that you are, my dear boy," Albus said calmly. "It does rather explain a lot of things...why you have such a connection to Tom...why you can speak Parseltongue when no wizard with that power has ever been anything but a Slytherin."

"I'm not!" Harry shouted, backing further towards the door. "I'm no Horcrux, and I'll be damned if I will sit here and let you kill me because you think I am!"

"But, Harry," Albus said, rising from his seat, but making no move towards the upset wizard, "you don't understand..."

"I think I understand all to well." Reaching the door, Harry groped behind him for the knob.

A voice thundered through the room, making everyone flinch. "Harry Potter!"

Turning towards the voice, Hermione saw that Severus had risen from his chair. The blanket that Poppy had so carefully tucked over his legs had slid off and formed a puddle of tartan plaid at his feet. He looked tall, imposing, and fierce. Despite the fact that he wore a black dressing gown instead of teaching robes, he looked every bit as intimidating as he had when he'd been their nasty potions teacher and they'd been first year students. Hermione found it little wonder that Harry's hand froze on the doorknob, and she found herself automatically hoping that she wouldn't be given a detention.

"Harry Potter," Severus repeated, his voice gone soft and hard. "Are you a cup? A trinket? A mindless beast? Or are you a wizard with a will of his own?"

"A wizard?" Harry answered, in a squeaky, unsure tone.

"Possibly," Severus said disdainfully. "I have often surmised that there is nothing but granite between those two, rarely used appendages hanging off of the sides of your head. Prove me wrong, Potter. Sit down and listen instead of flouncing off in a huff."

At this jibe, Harry stood straighter, and seemed on the verge of making some argument. His open mouth snapped shut again as Severus suddenly stumbled slightly. Hermione half rose from her seat in order to help Severus, but Harry beat her to it. The look of anger on Harry's face softened as he strode away from the door and grasped Severus' arm to steady the still weak man.

"I think," Harry said softly, "that you are the one who needs to sit down, Severus."

"I will if you will, Potter," Severus replied, still glaring at the young wizard.

Sighing, Harry gave Severus a nod, and then helped him to sit down. Tucking the blanket back around Severus, he returned to his own seat. Hermione noticed that Harry looked resigned and strangely calm. Perhaps the verbal sparring with Severus had calmed him because it was so familiar, so normal.

"Severus has hit on the heart of the matter," Albus began calmly, as if nothing had happened to interrupt the discussion. "You are no snake, Harry. You are a wizard with a will of your own--a rather stubborn will, if you don't mind my saying so."

Here, Harry sighed again and looked a bit sheepish as Albus peered at him from over the top of his glasses. "I suppose I am stubborn..." Harry began.

"Can I get that in writing?" Severus grumbled.

Ignoring Severus, Harry continued, "But what does my stubbornness have to do with anything?"

"Everything, my boy. Absolutely everything. When Nagini is destroyed, and Tom is killed, he will undoubtedly attempt to use the piece of soul that resides in you. However, in order to do that, he will have to be able to completely control you. Tom has tried that once before, Harry, and failed spectacularly. Do you remember?"

"At the Ministry!" Harry said, his eyebrows raising in surprise. "The night...the night that Sirius died. He tried to control me then, but I shook him off somehow. I don't even know how I did it. How can I do it again if I don't know how I did it in the first place?"

"Harry," Remus said, "fighting off possession is a bit like fighting off a boggart. What you think, and, more importantly, what you are feeling at the time has great effect. What were you thinking of when you threw Voldemort's hold off of you?"

Closing his eyes, Harry took a moment to remember, and then he spoke so softly that everyone in the room leaned forward in their seats in order to hear him. "I was thinking of Sirius. I was thinking of how much I loved Sirius, and how, if Albus killed me, I'd be able to see him again."

"Yes," Albus said, his eyes looking both sad and wise. "I remember that you told me that very thing later that evening. Voldemort has absolutely no ability to love, and he fears what he cannot understand, as do we all. Tom has also built a whole world for himself based on hate, and where love is, no hate can survive. Love is what saved you when your mother gave her life for you, Harry, and love is what saved you that dark night in the Ministry."

"Is it so powerful, then?" Harry asked softly.

Surprisingly, it was Severus who answered him. "Love is not only that fluttering feeling that teenagers get in their stomachs when some pretty twit walks by. It's not some clichéd poem written on a holiday card. Love is a powerful force. Just as Death Eaters use hatred to fuel their most wicked spells, those who love use that force for much of their magic. Love, is powerful and mysterious."

Severus had said most of these words to the blanket in his lap, but on the last line, his eyes lifted to meet Hermione's. For a precious moment, they stared at each other as if they were the only two people in the room.

As such moments often are, Hermione and Severus' brief reverie was broken by a voice both callous and unfeeling. "And what could you possibly know about love?" Hestia Jones said, laughing.

"A great deal more than you do, I would imagine," Hermione said scathingly to the rude witch, giving her an icy look that quelled any reply that Hestia might have dared.

Hermione's comment caused a bit of tittering in the room, especially from the direction of the Weasleys. When the room had once again quieted, Harry spoke again.

"He will have power the Dark Lord knows not," Harry quoted softly. "That's always puzzled me. You once told me that was about love, but I didn't believe it."

"Yes, Harry," Albus replied, "I am certain that it all boils down to love. Love is the one force that completely confounds Tom. You may have noticed that while you were a student at Hogwarts, we haven't spent any time teaching you any particular defensive spells."

"I have wondered about that. Ever since I learned of the prophecy, I expected that someone would start teaching me what I needed to know to fight Voldemort. Because no one has, I've felt like you expected some miracle from me...that you were going to just send me into the fray unprepared."

"Do you think there is any spell we could teach you that the Dark Lord doesn't already know?" Severus asked, his tone only slightly mocking. "Believe me, there is nothing anyone can teach you that the Dark Lord hasn't already faced and countered. If we are going to destroy him, it won't be because you've been trained to duel. He has decades more experience than you, and he uses the Unforgivables, while you cannot."

"I could learn them," Harry said softly.

"No, my boy," Albus said kindly, "that is not the path for you. You have the will, but not the temperament. Leave such wickedness to the Death Eaters. I believe that the answer to this battle lies elsewhere. Like the other times you have faced Voldemort, love is the key to winning this fight. Arthur, if you will be so kind as to explain?"

Arthur Weasley stood and walked up to Minerva's desk as Kingsley had done to address the room. "Now then, Harry, Albus tells me that you have seen the locked door in the Department of Mysteries, yes?"

"The locked room..." Harry mused, tilting his head in concentration. "Oh, yes, I remember now. You told me, Albus, that the locked room was full of love somehow. I'd forgotten all about it."

"That room is kept locked at all times because it can be very dangerous," Arthur continued. "I have known several witches and wizards who have attempted to study the force in that room, and they all had very differing results. Two noticed no effect whatsoever. One ended up in a ward in St. Mungo's...that was Clive, he was a nasty piece of work. And one lovely young witch named Emily came out of that room glowing...I mean literally glowing...and she had the most awed and beautiful expression on her face."

"Ahhh, yes," Albus said with a sigh. "Emily Goodwright. That young woman had a heart as big as the sea."

"What does that room do?" Harry asked.

"Depends on the person. To some, nothing at all. That Clive chap, it hurt him badly, but he was the nearest thing to Voldemort that you'd ever want to meet. And Emily, she greatly enjoyed her experience. She said that when she came out of that room, she felt as if everything was made out of love, and as if she could love the entire world."

"You see, Harry," Albus interjected, "Emily had an amazing capacity for love, as do you. I think that your experience in that room would be much as hers was. Were you to bask in that room's power before the final confrontation with Voldemort, I don't think that there is one of his hate-fueled spells that it would not counter. In fact, I think that it would overcome Voldemort himself."

"But, you're wrong," Harry said, looking sad and confused. "I don't know anything about love!"

"Nonsense, my boy, utter nonsense," Albus said, smiling at Harry fondly. "You have shown that you do, time and time again. You are friends with house-elves and giants; you take the side of the downtrodden over and over again. Friends and family have ever meant more to you than wealth and power. I was terribly worried about leaving you to the dubious mercy of your aunt and uncle's house, but you came away from that house with your heart intact."

"He's right, Harry," Ron said softly, speaking out for the first time since the meeting began. "It's always amazed me that you were brought up by people like that, but you didn't turn into a great selfish prat like your cousin. I really admire you for that."

"But I've got a horrible temper...and I'm stubborn!" Harry argued.

"And you're kind," Hermione added. "And considerate of others, and always ready to help people out of a tight spot. And you're the best friend a bossy, frizzy-haired girl could have ever hoped for when she made her way to Hogwarts and had such trouble fitting in."

A melodramatic sigh interrupted Hermione. "If we are done with the Potter appreciation speeches," Severus drawled, "perhaps we could return to the matter at hand."

"I don't suppose you think much of my capacity for love," Harry grumbled, glancing at Severus out of the corner of his eye.

The voice that answered him was lacking its usual bite. "You took me into your home when no other witch or wizard I know would have. You took me in, and you were kind to me, despite my madness...despite the fact that you had watched me kill your mentor and friend before your very eyes. If that does not convince you, Potter, then I was correct, and there is naught but granite between those ears of yours."

The room was silent as Harry bent his head and thought about all that they had discussed. Hermione watched him brush his fingers over the hand where the faint lines of an old scar still showed. When Harry once again lifted his head, gone was the indecision and fear that had been haunting them.

"How do we do this?" he asked Albus.

"Arthur, did you bring the key?" Albus asked.

"I've got it here somewhere," Arthur replied, searching his pockets. As he searched, an old appliance plug dropped from one trouser pocket and rolled across the floor unnoticed. "Ah! Here it is!"

Hermione was expecting a key to the locked room in the Department of Mysteries. When Arthur pulled a barely bristled hair brush out of his robe pocket, she was momentarily confused.

"That," began Albus, "is a very rare thing indeed. It is an unregistered Portkey, and when it is invoked, it will take the bearer inside the locked room. I had a devilish time creating it, but it works well enough. We had Emily test it for us."

"So," Harry said, "when the time comes, I take that Portkey and go into the room. How do I get out again?"

Kingsley answered this one. "That room is heavily guarded against people getting into it. Luckily, there are no charms at all that keep people from leaving that room. Emily Apparated out with no difficulty."

"And when do we do this?" Harry asked.

"We will make our move the next time Voldemort gathers his Death Eaters to him. Severus' mark will tell us when that occurs. Remus will tell his contact to kill Nagini, and Harry will use the Portkey to go to the locked room. Severus will Apparate to the meeting place, and we shall Apparate to Severus."

"Can you do that?" Hermione asked curiously. "Can you Apparate to a person instead of a place?"

"No, my dear," Albus answered. "But thanks to that excellent tracking bracelet Severus has acquired, we shall have a map of the area. And one can use the bearings of a map to Apparate."

"What do we do in the meantime?" Harry asked, obviously anxious to leap into the fray.

"We wait," Albus said simply. "At last all of our preparations are in place. Now there is nothing to do but to wait until the time is right." No one in the room looked pleased at the idea of waiting, and the room burst into quiet conversation once again.

The meeting broke up soon after that, and Ron, Harry, and Hermione slowly escorted Severus back to his room in the infirmary.

"I do not want to go back to the confounded infirmary," Severus groused.

"You're tired, love," Hermione said, which caused both of the young men to grimace, though they made no comment. "Don't try to Apparate tonight. Stay here, let Poppy check you in the morning, and then we will go to Harry's. All right?"

"You'll stay then?" Severus asked nonchalantly.

"I'll stay," Hermione promised.

Though Severus made no reply, the three friends had no further trouble leading him to Poppy's domain. When they reached the door to Severus' room, Hermione said goodbye to Harry and Ron, and told them that she and Severus would meet up with them at Grimmauld Place the next day. The boys left, Hermione softly closed the door of Severus' room, and suddenly, they were alone.

"I thought those dratted boys would never leave," Severus said from where he lay on the bed. Slowly, his eyes traveled from the top of Hermione's head to the tip of her shoes and back up again.

"I must look a fright," Hermione murmured, hastily trying to tidy her hair with her fingers.

"You look divine, trollop," Severus said, his voice low and gravelly. "Come here."