The Girl in the Tower
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Chapter Two: Ka-tet
~
Ron and Harry were in the best of spirits and, to their surprise, Hermione looked fabulous, though maybe a little nervous. Her bushy hair was smoothed and curled. She was wearing a bit of make-up and a pretty summer dress that floated around her knees when she moved and her sandals had heels.
Uncertainty edged her voice. "Do I look ok?"
"You look nice, Hermione!" Harry nudged Ron with his elbow.
Ron was staring at her. "Um... yeah. You look nice." He glanced at Harry, hoping to gauge his reaction. Harry smiled and Ron realized Harry was amused by his fumbled attempt at complimenting Hermione’s appearance. Hermione herself didn’t seem to notice his discomfort.
She smiled with delight. "Thank you both. Should we be off, then?"
People stopped to stare at Hermione as they passed in the halls. No one had seen her look the way she looked since the Yule Ball. Now that she was two years older and no longer a child, she was quite attractive.
They made their way to Sara's tower, making sure no one was about before slipping inside. The door was open at the top of the stairs and they stepped through to find Sara on the sofa in the sitting room reading The Daily Prophet. She stood at once and came over to greet them with a bright smile.
Remembering his manners, Harry introduced Hermione and then Ron.
Sara shook their hands. "It's so nice to meet you both at last! Harry's told me all about you, of course."
Hermione beamed. "It's nice to meet you, Sara! Harry spoke so highly of you."
Harry blushed but didn't know why.
Ron tipped his head in serious consideration as he regarded Sara. "You don't look much like Dumbledore."
Sara erupted with enchanting, musical laughter. "I'm still waiting for my beard to grow in. Come on. Let's go out." Sara led them onto the roof. They would be having an open-air dinner, since the warm spring weather was perfect for it.
Harry remembered to pull out Sara's chair and Ron, in the middle of arranging his own chair, saw what Harry was doing and hurried to do the same for Hermione. He gave her angry glance an apologetic smile. They settled around a square table, set for four, and a house-elf poured them each a glass of wine. Hermione took a small taste, but Ron took a big gulp and went a bit white.
Ron grimaced. "A little shocking at first, isn't it?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's not water. You have to sip it!"
Ron turned red with embarrassment. "I knew that. I just forgot, I guess."
Sara smiled. "Hermione, that's a pretty dress you're wearing."
"Thank you! But not as nice as yours. Most of my wardrobe is rather… functional."
"We look about the same size. You're welcome to borrow anything of mine that you like."
Hermione was unable to hide her delight. "Seriously?"
"In fact, why don't you come for lunch tomorrow? I wanted to talk to you anyway. Harry says you're good with spells."
"I'd love to! And I'd be happy to help you with any spells you require."
"Excellent!"
Soon after they were served, Ron was astonished, looking to Sara for an explanation. "How did you get this? This is fabulous!"
Hermione kicked him under the table and spoke a whispered aside. “Don’t talk with your mouth full!”
"It's Romanian. A recipe handed down through my father's family. I sent an owl to the kitchen earlier and asked them to prepare it. I'm glad you like it."
“I wish I could send an owl to the kitchen and have house-elves bring food to the dorms. That would be bloody brilliant!”
Ron plowed through two more courses and dessert, each as good as the last in his opinion, occasionally forgetting to sip and reliving the shock each time. He went through several glasses before Sara suggested he have some water to thin it out.
Sara retired her usual rapturous, honey-toned music in exchange for something a little more festive, turning it up rather loud. She started to dance with Hermione, who was reluctant at first, though getting a little giggly. Between Harry and Ron, they decided that around Sara, Hermione was like another person. Fun loving, easy-going, almost adventurous. Three glasses of wine helped, they were sure, but she was different. Not the nerdy, bookworm pal they were so accustomed to and it wasn't long before Sara had her in the dressing room, trying on clothes.
Ron wandered over to the wall and Harry followed. They stood there in silence for a moment, looking out over the grounds until Ron gave a heavy sigh.
"What's wrong, Ron?"
"Harry? Do you think Hermione's pretty at all?"
Harry shrugged. "I guess so. But Hermione is just... Hermione. I don't really look at her that way."
"Well I do. But I believe she thinks the way you do."
"Cheer up, Ron. I think she likes you."
Ron perked up. "Really? What makes you say that?"
"Let’s call it a hunch."
Laughter neared.
Ron and Harry turned to see Hermione crossing the roof with Sara. They were clinging to each other, slopping their wine here and there, not seeming to notice, and stumbling a little. Hermione was wearing a typical Sara outfit and Harry noticed she had lost her shoes somewhere. Both of them were barefoot.
Ron smiled. "It's a little silly, the way you two are carrying on. You look great, Hermione.”
Hermione smiled back and pulled him aside for some quiet conversation.
Sara set her glass on the wall and leaned against Harry as the music faded to something slow and rhythmic.
"I think we should dance. Come on." Sara took his hand, laughing a little because she knew he'd only danced with a girl once, at the Yule Ball years before.
He placed a hand on her back and took hers with the other. "Perhaps you should wear shoes. I'm sure to step on your feet."
Sara smiled and laid her head on his shoulder. "You'll do fine. I can see the future and there are no broken toes in it."
Hermione looked at Ron, who just stood there, looking back, not knowing how to
proceed. He opened his mouth once but closed it again; too afraid she'd just laugh at him.
"I guess it's ladies’ choice," she said, matter-of-fact. "Would you care to, Ron?"
"I'm not very good." He lowered his voice and bent a little closer. "But I'd be the luckiest guy here."
Hermione smiled and blushed as she placed her hand in his.
* * *
Hermione was up early the next morning, putting spells on her hair and attempting to apply make-up, borrowed from Parvati Patil. She'd tried on everything she owned at least twice and in every possible combination. She finally settled on her usual boring Saturday attire but she was miserable about it.
By the time Ron wandered into the common room looking positively ill, she had already eaten breakfast and gone to the library to research a spell to make her nails grow, though she didn't have any polish and all the girls had already gone. Harry followed, smiling a secret smile she had only seen once before.
Ron moaned when he saw her. "You've got to be kidding me! How can you look so bloody chipper? I really hate you sometimes, Hermione." Ron smiled at her before slumping onto the sofa.
Harry sat at the other end, looking tired and serene.
"Harry, I simply adore Sara!" Hermione was glad they were able to speak aloud, as everyone else was outside enjoying the beautiful day. "She's so different. I can see why you like her."
Harry smiled, pleased and somewhat relieved that Hermione had found a friend in Sara.
"I liked her, too, Harry. I haven't had that much fun in ages! She's really great. What the bloody hell is she doing with you?" Ron laughed as best he could and Harry found the energy to throw a pillow at him.
“The only problem is I think she’s corrupting Ron. We shouldn’t be drinking at our age and it’s against school rules. Ron must’ve had himself half a vat of wine last night! Please try not to get expelled a year before graduation. Harry, at least you had some sense.”
Ron was incredulous. “Well you were drinking it, too!”
“I was trying to be polite, Ronald! I only had a little.”
Harry laughed. “If five glasses is a little, then Ron was downright gracious!”
Hermione rose from her chair, indignant. "Well, I brought you two some toast from breakfast. I thought you might be hungry but it's cold by now. Besides, lunch is only an hour away. I'm sure by then Ron will have come around enough to go down.” She turned to Ron. “Drink some water for now. It should help."
Ron moaned. "If I thought I could get up, I'd go stick my head in the lake. Really, I've never been so thirsty."
“I hope you’ve learned your lesson, then!”
“What lesson?”
“Next time, politely decline!” Hermione gave him a resigned sigh and left the room.
When she returned, she had a pitcher of cold water and two glasses, which she set on the table between Ron and Harry. "Now drink it. I'm going to speak to Professor McGonagall about Friday's test and then I'm meeting Sara for lunch. I expect you to be feeling better by the time I return. And make sure you eat something."
"Yes Mum."
She crossed the room and went out. Harry just looked at Ron and smiled.
* * *
Harry sat up, surprised. "Fawkes!"
The phoenix dropped a letter in Harry's lap, circled once, and came to rest on the back of a chair. Harry read it aloud.
Dear Harry,
There is something I would like to discuss with you. Please come to my office at your earliest convenience. Fawkes will wait to carry your answer.
Sincerely,
Professor Dumbledore
Harry sighed. "Uh-oh."
"You don't think he found out, do you?"
"Why else would he send me this?" Harry indicated the letter. "I'd better send Fawkes back."
He went to the desk and composed a note.
Professor Dumbledore,
I will come at once, sir.
Harry Potter
Harry folded and sealed the letter and gave it Fawkes, who flew off in a rush of red and gold feathers.
"Better to get it over with."
"But what are you going to say?"
"I don't know. The truth, I guess."
"Good luck, mate."
"Thanks." Harry left the common room with shoulders slumped.
* * *
What was he going to say? Did Dumbledore know they'd been drinking the Riesling? Did he know he spent most of his nights in Sara's room? What a disaster. What could he say that would keep everyone out of trouble and was also the truth? Of course! The hooded figure. He could say he'd been protecting Sara from it and that's why he stayed there after hours. That was a large part of why he stayed with her, really. It was easy for Harry to see how scared she was of it but would Dumbledore understand?
Harry had reached the door. He hesitated; feeling anxious and something akin to scared and then turned to the gargoyle and spoke the password.
"Ice Mice."
The door opened and Harry entered. There was Fawkes, the enormous phoenix, on his perch as always. The headmaster sat at his desk, his manner appearing pleasant to Harry, who was nervous.
"You wanted to see me, sir?"
Dumbledore indicated the chair across from him and spoke in his usual soft tone. "Yes, Harry. Have a seat."
Harry sat.
"It has come to my attention that you have been inattentive in class and distracted in general for the past couple of months. In fact, I hear you've been taking regular naps during lectures. Tell me, are you ill?"
"No sir."
"Is there something bothering you? Problems of any sort?"
Harry knew there was no lying to Dumbledore and besides, his concern was genuine. "No sir. No problems."
Dumbledore smiled. "Ah, you're in love, then."
Harry looked at the floor, unable to answer.
"You know, I've noticed similar changes in my niece recently. She's almost cheerful. Not so... downhearted."
Harry looked at him, knowing his face betrayed his guilt but was powerless to hide it. Dumbledore was waiting for him to speak but he was unable to. Harry just sat there, trying not to fidget.
"Have you met Sara?"
Harry's voice was a whisper and he spoke at the floor. "Yes sir."
Dumbledore leaned across the desk and raised Harry's chin. "It's all right, Harry."
Harry relaxed.
"However, I do have some concerns. Your new friendship is affecting your schoolwork and I, as your headmaster, cannot allow that to happen. You must not go to your classes so tired and so distracted you are unable to learn. You might miss something that could one day save your life. Remember that."
"I will, sir. I'm sorry."
"Also, there is the matter of Sara."
"What about Sara?"
"You must know she has been deeply troubled since the loss of her parents, which I think you understand."
Harry gave a solemn nod.
"It pains me to isolate her the way she is. It's necessary, of course, but such isolation causes immense loneliness. Do you know what I mean, Harry?"
"I think so, Professor. Sara is very sad."
"That she is. It worries me to think what will happen when the boy she loves goes on summer holiday in just a few weeks. You might return to find half of Hogwarts underwater."
"So it's true then! It rains when Sara cries!"
"That it does." Dumbledore folded his hands. "Sara has a tremendous gift. Unfortunately, she's also capable of mass destruction, Harry, and that is why she's hidden in that tower. Dark forces seek her for the powers she tries so hard to hide."
"Professor, how could Sara be capable of mass destruction? I don't understand."
"Ah, but I believe you do. You see, my niece went to Professor Snape with some concerns over our young Mr. Malfoy. When Severus came to me, asking permission to perform a memory charm on him, I asked that he be brought to me first. He was given a mild truth serum and he told me a rather amazing story."
"He assaulted her, sir! I swear Sara didn't do anything wrong."
"I know what happened. I know what Draco tried to do and I'm sure you saw how she handled it."
"There was a, well, sort of an earthquake or something. And the black streak in her hair turned bright red! And she hit him with some kind of spell I'd never seen before. It looked like electricity."
"She hit him with lightning, Harry."
"Lightning?!"
"That is correct. You see, Sara's more extreme emotions are somehow linked with the elements. When she cries, it rains. When anger wells up inside her, the earth trembles. Her fury brings the wrath of the skies. She needs only to raise her arms to the heavens and she commands the winds." Dumbledore rose from the desk and began to pace the room.
"There have been few Elementals throughout history. When I was but a young man I had the opportunity to speak to one, a Romanian Gypsy named Vanya Ivanova, who has the gift. You see, the Elemental lives for 120 years give or take, but one is born every century. That's the way it has always been. The 20 overlapping years allow time for an apprenticeship. Regrettably, Sara and Vanya, who is now one hundred and sixteen years old, have never met. Therefore, Sara does not know how to control the powers she has.
“Sara is undoubtedly stronger than most Elementals, but a fledgling in the use of her ability and it is because of these two things that she is sought by Voldemort. It's why her parents were killed. It was Sara they were after."
"Then how did she escape?" Harry had lots of questions about Sara's parents, none of which ever seemed appropriate.
"She had the good fortune to not be home at the time. She had gone out with a friend for the evening and decided at a late hour to stay the night at the girl's house. If she hadn't, I hate to think what might have happened."
"She probably thinks it's her fault," Harry realized.
"I'm sure she does, even though we've tried to convince her otherwise. We've all done our best to console Sara, but nothing has helped. Until she met you, that is."
Harry gave him a pained smile. "I know how she feels, Professor."
"I know you do. And that is the reason why I will allow you to visit the Northeast Tower. Not excessively, mind you. You have your classes to think about.”
Harry felt an enormous weight lift from his chest. “Of course, sir. Thank you!”
“I'll ask you to keep this permission between us. You must not be caught."
"I won't, sir."
"But I must ask you not to get too close to her. Remember, you'll be leaving soon. We don't want that black tress to consume her whole head."
"What is it, that streak? It grows sometimes and others it's barely noticeable. I asked her once, but she only said it had appeared one day."
"Yes, the day she came home to find the American Department of Magic waiting for her. Only it wasn't just a streak at that point. It was a shroud. Every strand turned black and it grew to her feet within hours. It was like nothing I've ever seen. The shroud is supposed to be myth."
Dumbledore took his seat again and looked directly at Harry. "The black in her hair is caused by the most profound sort of sadness. The kind that penetrates the very soul. And the red you saw was a rage so strong it overcame all other emotions. Sara must be protected from such extremes. She must not be pushed but don't let me frighten you. She hasn't done much more than play with the wind since she was a young girl."
"But why? Why wouldn't she use it?"
"It's a terrible story, Harry, and I know you will not judge her by it."
"Of course not."
"When Sara was twelve years old, she was rather spoiled, being an only child, and used to getting her way. On holiday with her parents in California, they refused her something and Sara became angry. When her mother, Diana, tried to punish her for her behavior, Sara flew into a rage and caused an earthquake that leveled whole neighborhoods and killed dozens of people. After seeing what she had done, she cursed her powers and vowed never to use them again. Of course, she was only a child but she simply cannot forgive herself.
“It's how Voldemort learned of her. There were several witnesses. It was reported in the muggle newspapers that a young girl's hair turned from blonde to red in the midst of a tantrum at the instant the earthquake began. It took him four years to find them in New York."
Harry felt terrible for Sara, knowing she'd been living with such tremendous guilt. No wonder her hair turned black, he thought. "I understand your concern, Professor. I'll do my best."
"I'm sure you will, Harry. I'm sure you will. I trust you in those matters but there's one more thing that concerns me. Harry, you are both too young-"
Harry became alarmed and interrupted Dumbledore, something he would never do under normal circumstances. "We haven't, um, I mean we've never-"
Dumbledore held up a silencing hand. "None of my business."
Harry relaxed. "Then what is it, sir?"
"You're both too young to be left unsupervised. I go against my better judgment because I believe you to be an honorable young man. You must be responsible, Harry. That is all I have to say on the subject."
"I won't let you down, sir."
Dumbledore only gave him a knowing smile. Harry tried to smile back, but ended up looking at the floor again.
"I expect the four of you had an extraordinary time last night?"
Harry looked up at once. Uh-oh, he thought.
"It came to my attention that Sara had ordered dinner for four to be brought to her rooms last evening. A dinner party! The very thing she needs. Friends, laughter, companionship. Your friends Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger are students I hold in high regard and I approve completely. Only be careful with spirits, Harry. They cloud your judgment and lead to foolish behavior. There are few things worse than regret."
Harry nodded his understanding.
"Unless you have something to add I've nothing more to say."
"Just one thing, sir. The last Quidditch game of the season is coming up. We're playing Slytherin for the cup. I'd like if Sara could go." He lowered his voice. "She could use my invisibility cloak."
"That could be arranged, I think."
"Thank you, Professor."
"I think you know the way out."
Harry stood. "Good day, sir."
"Good day, Harry. Remember what I've said."
Harry smiled and went out, stopping in the passage to fall against the wall and breathe relief. He didn't think things could be any better for him and Sara and couldn't wait to see her so he could tell her everything but he didn't want to interrupt her lunch with Hermione. He wanted them to become friends in the worst way. He would tell her tonight but, in the meantime, he had to tell Ron! Harry hurried off for Gryffindor, walking as fast as he could without running.
* * *
Hermione didn't return to the common room until just before dinner. She was exuberant and dressed in expensive clothes. Her hair was soft and lustrous, her nails long and shiny with a light polish.
"I didn't know she could look like that."
"She looks fabulous!"
"Then tell her!" Harry urged. He smiled as Hermione stopped in front of them, waiting to hear what they had to say. Harry nudged Ron, who looked terrified and dumbstruck.
"Hermione, you look, um… well… kind of beautiful."
Harry rolled his eyes. He waited for Hermione to be offended but she gave Ron a gentle smile instead. The two of them stood staring at each other and Harry felt like a third wheel. Without a word, he went up to his room where he lay on his bed, thinking of Sara and his conversation with Dumbledore.
Harry wondered how he was going to leave for the summer without causing her any more distress. Already the thought of being so far apart brought him great anguish and he dreaded the last day of classes. How would it affect Sara, who was already so troubled?
Harry fell onto his pillow, feeling helpless. He counted the minutes until he could see her every day. Could he really not see as much of her? It didn't seem possible and besides, he thought, it wouldn't help. Their emotional bond had already been forged.
Harry sighed, miserable. What could he do? There were no answers. He would just have to talk to her about it, prepare her emotionally. But now it was time for dinner and Harry got out of bed.
He found Ron and Hermione sitting together on a couch near the fire. By the looks of it, they hadn't broken eye contact since he'd left them. Ron's arm was draped across the cushions behind her. Why doesn't he just do it? Harry thought. He knew Ron was terrified but didn't understand why. It was obvious that Hermione liked him. Ron was the only one who didn't seem to notice. And they didn't notice him as he crossed the room. Harry smiled as he passed behind their sofa. He pushed Ron's arm off the cushion and onto Hermione's shoulders.
Ron turned bright red and erupted with apologies.
Hermione only smiled, demure.
Harry grinned. "Are you two going to sit there all night? It's time for dinner."
Hermione blushed, flustered. "We were just about to go down. We were waiting for you."
"Yeah Harry, you bloody creep!"
"Let's go, then!"
* * *
"I have to go. I've got to talk to Sara."
Ron nodded in understanding. "Tell her I said thank you for dinner."
"I will. I'll see you in the morning."
Harry left the table and headed for the stairs but Professor Dumbledore beckoned to him. The headmaster left the teachers’ table and Harry noticed most of the students still eating were staring at him. Dumbledore put his arm around Harry's shoulders, turning him so their backs were to the multitude of prying eyes.
"Harry, I've been to see Sara. We had a little talk, similar to the one I had with you, but I fear I have upset her. It started to rain shortly after I left."
Harry glanced up at the ceiling, which he hadn't thought to do during dinner, and saw nothing but black thunderheads and dim flashes of lightning. He turned to Dumbledore, fighting the feeling to bolt up the stairs. "I'm on my way to see her now, sir."
"Good. She could use some company. I gave her a picture of her mother that I've had for a few years. I was hoping it would lift her spirits, but now I think we may have that flood before you leave."
"I understand. I'll go right away, Professor."
Dumbledore patted Harry’s shoulder and returned to his seat, slipping into quiet conversation with Professor McGonagall on his right.
As soon as Harry was out of sight he stepped up his pace. He could see the rain outside coming down in buckets and he heard the rumble of thunder overhead. It was a furious storm, one of the worst they'd had. He took the tower steps two at a time and was short of breath when he reached the top. Her door opened for him and Harry hurried into the sitting room. Kicking off his shoes, he went into the bedroom, heading for the roof.
He heard muffled crying halfway across and turned to find her curled up on her bed, the picture Dumbledore mentioned laying next to her on the unused pillow. Sara clutched a tissue in her hand and didn't seem to know Harry was there. The black streak in her hair was wider than Harry had ever seen it and it unnerved him. He went to her and sat down on the edge. "Sara?" He touched her arm with a gentle hand.
"He won't let me leave."
"It's not for long, really. We'll be back before you know it. I'll write to you everyday. It won't be so bad. You'll see."
"It already seems like forever."
"I'll think about you all the time. We’ll all be in touch. Well, maybe not Ron, but Hermione and I will send you plenty of owls."
The rain seemed to slow a little.
"There's nothing I can do. Hermione invited me to stay at her house. She thought the four of us could spend a day together, but Uncle Albus said it wasn't possible. It would have gotten me through, Harry, but to not go anywhere, do anything fun, or see anyone at all..." She cried harder and the rain worsened.
Harry stroked her hair and kissed her forehead. She calmed, though her voice still trembled.
"I'll be alone here for months. I was at my wit's end when I found you and then Hermione and Ron, having sat in silence for half a year in my tower like some messed up storybook princess, drunk and lonely. I had such a good time last night, I felt almost normal again. I can't go back to that. I have to get out of here, Harry. I'm a prisoner!"
"It won’t be easy, but you’ll get through it. Maybe we’ll talk Dumbledore into letting us come for a weekend. Just try to dwell on something positive, not that there’s much of that in this situation." He kissed her and smiled and the rain slowed a little more. "After this summer, we can go wherever we want and do as we please."
Sara sighed. "I hope you're right."
"Believe me; I would sneak you out of here with my cloak in a second if I didn't think you were safest right where you are. No one here will let anything happen to you, Sara. You're in good hands."
"I know where I'm safest and it's wherever you are." Sara sat up and touched the tissue to her eyes. "That thing is afraid of you, not the teachers sleeping down below. That's why it hasn't been back, because you're always here. It will come back and it will come in. I'm afraid of it. More than I've ever been of anything."
"You have to tell Dumbledore. It's the only way!"
"He'll never let me out of here if I tell him!"
"What other choice is there? Sara, be reasonable! How can he protect you if he doesn't know everything? And you won't even close the doors!"
"I'm half Gypsy. I can't sleep without wind and fresh air. It's in my blood."
"Then tell him. Tell him or I will."
Their eyes met for a long moment, hers red and defeated; his resolute.
"Fine. I'll tell him but not until the last day of school."
"Good enough." Harry fell back on the bed. He lifted his head and took the old Muggle photograph off the pillow. "Your mother, I assume?"
"Yes. Uncle Albus had it. He knows how much I miss her." A few fresh tears fell and a light rain spattered the roof outside.
"You look so much alike!"
"I look like her, yes. I always wanted to be like her but I never quite was."
Sara looked at the silent stereo across the room and it came to life, playing soft and low. It was jazz again, the same song Harry first remembered hearing the night they'd met. He'd heard this woman's music many times and it was always soul stirring.
"It's your mother, isn't it?'
"It is. She had the most exquisite voice. I've always loved to hear her sing."
"I loved it the first time I heard it. Just like when I caught you singing that day. Out on the roof? You have the loveliest voice, kind of angelic I always thought. I think Snape was right. Your mother would be proud."
"Snape knew my mother, you know. They went to school together. They were friends before he fell in with the Death Eaters. We had a long journey from New York together and he told me my mother was the only girl in school who was a real friend to him. I think it explains why he's so nice to me. I understand he's not the most popular teacher at Hogwarts."
"Then you heard right. All the Gryffindors despise him. Me in particular."
Sara smiled at last. "He sneers when he says your name. Just like Malfoy does. I think he hates you, Harry."
"I knew that the first time he ever laid eyes on me. He sneers whenever I’m in his field of vision, regardless of whom he’s talking to. Now why don’t we change clothes? We’ll start a fire and have some tea. The night’s turned cold."
Sara squeezed his hand. "Excellent idea.”
* * *
Disclaimer: “Ka-tet” is borrowed from Stephen King’s The Dark Tower