Chapitre 43: Dark Impulses and Dangerous Games
The school was searched, and Black was nowhere to be found. Apparently, he had tried to get into the Gryffindor common room.
"Maybe he thinks you're in Gryffindor?" Blaise said, over breakfast.
"Why would he think that? I've been in the papers! They even quoted me as the young Slytherin Potter!"
"Harry," Theo said, with a long-suffering sigh, "Black's a lunatic who escaped from Azkaban. Who knows why he thinks what he does?"
"So why are you all assuming he's after me?"
"You tell them, Harry," Pansy said, before giggling to Tracey.
She's still quite annoying. Her kisses though…
"Hello?" Theo said, snapping his fingers in front of Harry's eyes, "are you even listening to yourself? Do you really think it doesn't make sense for Black to be after you?"
"It does," Harry admitted, "but not much."
"Exactly! Won't you just make sure not to be alone?"
"I'll make sure of that," Pansy said.
"Leave it, Theo. Harry will do whatever stupid thing he feels like," Draco added.
Right then, Flint walked over.
"As long as no killer gets him without giving us time to find a replacement."
"Flint, I'll be—"
"Practice this afternoon," Flint said, ignoring Harry's attempts. "At five."
"Are you serious?" Harry said, pointing to the storm raging outside, "in this?"
Flint smiled. "Good chance the game will be like this."
"Come on!"
"It'll be fine. You know how to cast the Impervious?"
Harry and Draco nodded.
"Good. That way we'll be able to see. Well, see you then."
He walked off, Harry and Draco goggling after him.
"So incredible, how dedicated you all are," Pansy said.
I swear if it wasn't for her kisses…
"Hey, Potter. Your girlfriend didn't come to watch us practice today," Bole nudged Derrick. "She probably didn't want us all to see how wet she gets."
The locker room burst into uproarious laughter. Harry blushed.
It was true that Pansy had been practically following Harry around everywhere. She'd been at all the other practices too, cheering pretty much every time Harry did something.
It was cool but did feel a bit… smothering.
"So next week is the match. The first match of the season, and against Gryffindor," Flint began. Bole yawned loudly.
"We're going to crush them, and—"
"Like we've done the last however many years," Bole interrupted.
Flint shot Bole a dirty look. "That's true, but that doesn't mean we should relax! We need to destroy them!"
"We will."
"Till next week then."
The whole school seemed to be getting into the feeling of anticipation for the match. As usual, the team started moving around in packs.
Finally, the opportunity came to get some level of revenge on the Weasley Twins. Using the Invisibility Cloak, Harry snuck up to them and planted a bunch of Zonko's products in their book bags. After he had let some dungbombs off in the trophy room.
One anonymous tip-off to Filch later, and the Weasleys lost Gryffindor fifty points. And got themselves a week of detentions. It would have been a lot better if McGonagall hadn't stepped in, and got them off detention for Saturday. They would be able to play in the match.
Still, it was worth it. Especially since they had no proof of anyone setting them up. Of course, they weren't stupid and made a lot of comments against the Slytherins. Still, they would have been making those comments no matter who had done it.
Friday, the day before the match, Harry and Pansy were walking towards the library when they came across something that made Harry's blood boil. From ahead in the corridor, over the thunder and howling wind, Harry distinctly heard a girl saying, "God, Looney, could you be any crazier?"
A second voice responded, rather timidly.
"It's not crazy. This weather's obviously been caused by the Wimbourne Wasps bartering with Typhons—"
"Luna! Do you ever wonder why you don't have any friends?"
When the other girl next spoke, she sounded hurt. "I have friends."
"Real friends. Not your nargles and wrackspurts."
"You're just jealous of me."
"Jealous?" She sounded incredulous. "Of what? A crazy bitch with no mother and a crazy father? As if!"
Harry heard a sob, and without even looking at Pansy, he strode forward.
"Petrificus Totalus!"
The girl fell to the floor with a thump. Luna looked around and smiled at Harry, as Pansy caught up.
"You're always rescuing me. You should have shining armor."
"Thanks," Harry said, looking at the prone girl. There was fear in her eyes. It sent a jolt of excitement through him. Pansy took his arm, eyes wide and face flushed.
"You're gonna let her go now?" Luna asked.
"No," Harry tried to keep the tremble out of his voice. "I think I'm gonna have a chat with her."
"Don't hurt her," Luna said, urgently. "It's not her fault. Not really."
"Don't worry" not gonna hurt her, much "just gonna make sure she won't bother you anymore."
"Harry, I—"
"I think you should go, Luna," Harry said, not taking his eyes off the girl lying before him. His breath was coming faster. "And Luna?"
She stopped before turning the corner.
"I think you should be more careful about who you tell your theories to. Not everyone appreciates them."
Luna walked off, but not before whispering, "You should have worn the bracelet."
"What are you gonna do to her?" Pansy said, voice high-pitched. "Are you gonna cru—"
"Shut up," Harry said.
He shot a stinging hex at the girl.
"Just making sure I've got your attention."
"What's her name?" he said, still not turning his head from her.
"Sue. I think."
"Well, Sue. I think we should have a little chat. I don't much like bullies. Might be a bit hypocritical of me, but still."
Tears were pooling in her eyes now. She couldn't blink and clear them. Harry's heart beat faster.
Maybe just one Cruciatus.
ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY? YOU WON'T GET AWAY WITH IT!
"And I really don't like when people's parents are mocked," he carried on in a conversational tone. "Now, how can I make sure you remember that? How can I make sure you'll tell all your stupid bitch friends to leave Luna alone?"
Next to him, Pansy watched with excitement.
"There are so many spells I'd love to test on you. And no one would ever know."
Just one…
AZKABAN FOR LIFE! YOU CAN'T TRUST PANSY, OR THIS STUPID BITCH!
He hit her with another stinging hex. By now, the tears were leaking out of her eyes and down her face. Looking down at the fear in her eyes, Harry felt power.
"Serpensortia," he whispered.
"This is a black mamba," it wasn't, but she wouldn't know that, "the most venomous non-magical snake in the world."
"$Scare her. Let her think you're going to bite, but don't actually$."
The snake lunged, missing her face by less than an inch. There wasn't fear in her eyes anymore. There was terror.
Harry smiled, beatifically.
"One bite, and you'll be dead in minutes. And in agony the whole time."
Her tears puddled onto the floor.
"You aren't going to bully Luna anymore, are you?"
The snake hissed, tongue actually touching her tears. Harry couldn't help but laugh.
"Right. You still can't speak. Finite."
Through her wracking sobs, she managed, "I won't bully her anymore."
"And your friends? You'll tell them not to?"
"Yes. Please, j-j-just let me go!"
"Run. If you tell a teacher, I'll kill you."
The girl ran off, rubbing her ass as Harry hit her with another stinging hex.
When they kissed, Pansy didn't stop his hands from roaming.
The day of the match dawned, and as Flint had thought, it was stormy and cold.
"Good luck, Harry!" Pansy said, kissing him on the cheek as the team left breakfast.
Of course, Theo and Blaise made kissing noises, but that was to be expected, really.
"We're going to fucking destroy them!"
"Yeah!"
"Crush them!"
"Yeah!"
"Draco," Flint added, as they all walked out to the pitch, "you get that fucking Snitch."
"AND THEY'RE OFF! SLYTHERIN SEEMS TO BE KEEPING THE SAME TEAM AS LAST YEAR, AS HAVE THE GRYFFINDORS."
The wind and rain buffeting Harry, he barely managed to get his fingers on the Quaffle. He raced forward, trying to keep the ball from slipping through his hands.
"POTTER WITH THE QUAFFLE. IS HE GOING TO SHOOT? COME ON, OLIVER!"
He drew near, Wood hovering before him. He feinted left—and Wood fell for it.
"POTTER SCORES! 10-0 TO SLYTHERIN. COME ON, KATIE!"
Katie was racing towards the goals, Quaffle gripped tightly. A Bludger hit her, and Harry heard Derrick's laughter over the roaring rain.
"NICE HIT FROM ONE OF THE WEASLEYS THERE, AND IT'S GRYFFINDOR IN POSSESSION."
The wind and rain made it hard to see exactly what happened, but a few minutes later, Gryffindor was given a penalty shot.
"AND SPINNET SCORES! TAKE THAT! 10-10."
The rain was freezing, chilling Harry to the bone. He hadn't even had the Quaffle for what felt like hours.
The score was now 40-30, to Gryffindor.
"IS THAT THE SNITCH? COME ON, DEAN!"
Harry spun around. Dean was ahead, but Draco was steadily gaining.
And the pitch fell silent.
And the rain, which already had been freezing, got colder.
Harry's stomach did a flip, and he looked down.
Dementors. Tens of them, covering the pitch. All looking up, with their cloaks not moving in the wind.
There was panting in his ears as he was roughly pulled. A slapping sound from behind as the length moved deeper into him. A woman, screaming his name.
Harry fainted, falling off his broom as his hands and thighs relaxed their grip.
"He's waking up!"
"Give him some space."
"Let him have that water Pomfrey left."
Harry slowly opened his eyes, blinking in the harsh light.
"Wha—"
"Here," someone said, pushing a cup into his hands, "drink."
He did so, trying to make sense of the blurred figures.
Where am I? What happened? The Dementors!
"What happened?" he asked as someone pushed his glasses into his hands. He put them on and saw the team and Pansy standing around his bed. He was in the Hospital Wing.
"Dementors," Flint said, as Pansy pushed some chocolate into his hand. "You fell off your broom."
"I thought you were going to die!" Pansy squeaked, covering her face.
"Dumbledore stepped in," Draco said, "and Snape. They did something to you—you started falling much slower, and you kinda bounced when you hit the ground, like off a mattress. And they shot this silvery stuff at the Dementors."
"Never seen Dumbledore look so pissed," Bole said.
"Yeah."
"The game? What happened?"
"We won, of course. Draco got there before Thomas," Flint said, clapping Draco on the back. "Our unbeaten streak continues."
"And I got your broom," Derrick said. "Blew right into my hand. Put it with the others."
"Thanks," Harry said, yawning.
Just then, Madam Pomfrey came in.
"What are you all doing around my patient? He needs rest! And all of you, in your soaking robes?! Change, before I have you all in my beds!"
They shuffled out, Pansy kissing him on the way.
"Now, Potter. You need rest. Drink this."
She handed him a steaming goblet. He was asleep before finishing it.
As the days moved towards Christmas break, Harry started to get antsy. Not so much the thought of what he would have to do for the initiation, as much as the thought of doing it with an audience. He could tell Draco was getting nervous as well, even though he wouldn't admit it. His workload, though, prevented him from dwelling on it too much. Draco didn't have that luxury. Even beginning to learn the Patronus Charm wasn't enough to totally bring Draco out of his stupor.
Neither of them had any real success with the charm, not being able to produce more than silvery mist.
"That is more than I would expect from a wizard your age," Snape had said when Harry complained about his lack of progress. "As it is, this will be enough to lessen the Dementors' effects on you. Practice, and in time you will achieve a corporeal Patronus."
And the days marched on.
"Harry," Pansy said hesitantly, after a snogging session. Harry felt practically ready to burst. He had finally gotten his hand under her bra, and then she pulled away.
For a fleeting moment, he thought of the Imperius.
"Yeah, babe?"
She smiled. "Will you come to me over Christmas? My parents want to meet you."
Gonna be too busy torturing and killing.
"I'm gonna be at Draco—"
"I know. Maybe just for a lunch, or a tea?"
"Maybe…"
"We'd have more time alone," she said, grinning impishly.
"Well, if you put it like that, how can I say no?"
"Perfect! We'll arrange it all at the beginning of the holiday."
Based on what the Dark Lord said, I think I'm going to be seeing your parents a lot earlier than you think.
The night before break began, Harry and Draco had a final session with Snape. He went through exactly what they would be expected to do at their initiation again, and the oaths they would be swearing. Then he set them to practicing their Patronus'.
After a few minutes, he sent Draco to the far side of the room so he could speak privately with Harry.
"Muffliato." At Harry's inquiring glance, he said, "A useful silencing charm. Draco, or anyone else indeed, cannot hear what we are saying."
That is definitely useful.
"Tell me, Harry," Snape said, in a softer tone than usual, "have you been having any… violent urges?"
Harry didn't even have to think about it.
"Yes."
Snape sighed. "Harry. This is very, very dangerous. For the average person, there is no worry about addiction to the Dark Arts. Draco, for example, does not have to fear that, nor do I, provided we watch for it. For you though—"
"I react strongly to it."
"Precisely. Harry, your mind, your soul desires the pleasure it brings you. And so, it causes your thoughts, your emotions to run hotter, which in turn—"
"Makes me want to use the Dark Arts. I know, but—"
"You do not know, you stupid boy! Harry, you have within you the potential to be a truly amazing wizard. The potential to be the Dark Lord's most favored follower."
Harry nodded. He'd heard all this before.
"But you also have the potential to spend the rest of your life in Azkaban, if you are not given the Kiss, that is. You could be great. I will not see you become a cautionary tale, whispered by mothers to scare their children away from the Dark Arts."
"So what do I do?"
"Occlumency, and—"
"I'm already practicing the ducking thing half the day! What more—"
"Guard. Your. Tongue."
Harry shut up, abashed.
"Not only must you clear your mind, but you must watch your emotions. You must know the instant you begin feeling rage, or hate, or fear, and clear your mind. Wipe them away."
"And that will help?" Harry said, scorn filling his voice.
"In part. You should also stop casting those spells unless you absolutely must. Particularly not for stress relief."
"But—"
"Think! When you use them to relieve your stress or rage, you are teaching yourself that you receive pleasure after feeling those emotions. How do you think your mind reacts to that?"
"It'll make me feel those emotions more," Harry said slowly.
"Exactly. I also worry about your relationship with Miss Parkinson."
"What? Why? Pansy's great, and—"
"For those like you, it may be difficult to separate pleasures. You may feel a heightened desire to cause her pain, or even—"
"I would never!"
You thought about Imperioing her 'cause you were horny. Don't lie.
"You say that now. How can you be sure of that?"
"So that's it? I have to stay alone forever? And no casting the Dark Arts because—"
"No one said that, idiot boy! You just have to be far, far more careful. As for the Dark Arts, stay away from the Unforgivables unless they are necessary."
"Like when?"
"Like in the coming few days, when you will be on exhibit. Or during battle, or interrogation. Do not use them for your own gratification."
"I won't."
"And you will practice your Occlumency, with a focus on your emotions?"
"I will, sir."
"Good. We will discuss this further, after every one of your training sessions. I mean what I said, Harry. You could be great. I will not see you waste that."
"I won't," Harry swore. "I won't."
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État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
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