Current location:	my desk ~ B110
Current music:	At the Beginning ~ Anastasia soundtrack
Entry tags:	fic, harry potter, what it means

FIC: What It Means.... ~ ...To Learn ~ PG-13
Title: What It Means...
Author: batsutousai
Beta: magickmaker17
Rating: PG-13/T
Pairings: None
Warnings: Harry-in-Azkaban, betrayal, angst, Dark-but-not-Evil!Harry, Slightly-Too-Powerful-To-Be-Realistic!Harry, character death
Summary: At the end of Fifth Year, things go as planned for some and not for others. When Harry is sent to Azkaban for killing his best friends, who will stand at his side and who will turn their back?

A/N: The idea behind some things in this chapter come from another fic I read ages ago in which Harry does something similar. ( I don't remember the name of the fic... Anyone?) I don't mean to copy, but I can't see Harry just sitting around, doing nothing, and he's too noble to just escape. I had to give him something to do. And with his dad giving him suggestions through Luna, well, it was inevitable...

Since this fic was started before DH, I won't really use much from that book. What little I do use from that book is largely from memory – my copy isn't with me, nor, I'm pretty sure, is my sister's – so it may be off a bit. Also, since I've basically changed the ending of OotP, I'm calling creative license for any changes I make.

-~/\~-
Chapter Two ~ ...To Learn
Written: 23/07/07
-~\/~-

After finding an empty island away from Azkaban and ordering Luna to not look, which she did with rather a lot of laughter, Harry pulled off his ragged robes and jumped into the chilly ocean. As he didn't have any soap, he made do with the gritty sand under his feet. When he was red all over and shivering, he jumped out of the water and pulled his clothing back on. Then he sat in the sand and smiled at Luna's back. "Thanks."

Luna turned around and shrugged. "I understand privacy," she replied, then settled down across from him. "How often, about, do the dementors come to check on you?"

Harry hummed and considered his time in the prison. "Well, without any way to tell the time of day beyond when I sleep, I'd have to say that they come when they feed me. Once for breakfast, once for dinner. And even then, they don't always come."

Luna nodded sadly. "I see. Well, Ron says he's going to keep an eye on the prison and warn us when it looks to be about breakfast time. We'll compare that to what time it is out here and then do the same for dinner time. That should give us an idea about how much time you have outside your cell each day."

Harry nodded. "I know the time between breakfast and dinner is shorter than the time between dinner and breakfast, so might I suggest that I train at night and stay inside during the day to sleep?"

Luna blinked a couple of times, then said, "Why didn't we think of that?"

Harry grinned.

Luna offered him a crooked smile, then turned mostly serious and said, "Why don't we work on your elemental magic for tonight?"

Harry nodded. "Alright. Shall we start with water?"

Luna's smile returned. "Let's."

-~/^\~-

Two months later, Harry felt that his elemental magic was under control, so he moved on to practising his third Animagus form. Through Luna, he learned that his two best friends and his parents were making bets and jokes about what he'd be. Ron thought he'd turn into some sort of bird, as did Hermione, but Hermione thought he'd be a sparrow or something while Ron thought he'd be a hawk. James wanted him to be a stag, like he had been, but Lily thought he'd be more likely to turn into some sort of cat. If Luna had a guess, she kept it silent from Harry.

Five and a half months after Harry had mastered his elements, Lily won the bet when Harry became a black leopard with bright green eyes. After that change and a little help from Luna, he learned how to apparate and spent an evening in the African jungle. He had to admit, after he'd returned to his cell for breakfast and a nap, it had been nice to get away from the ocean and relax on a tree. The best part about the whole thing, as far as he was concerned, was that he managed his entire nap without a single nightmare.

Luna's next test, which took the rest of the month of March, was to work on his Necromancy gift some. Harry called various ghosts from around Azkaban – there were a lot, even though most of them were rather horrible people – and a few from where he liked to relax in the African jungle.

At the beginning of April, Harry decided to test something and called Nearly Headless Nick to him on his island near Azkaban. When Nick appeared, he looked absolutely floored to find Harry Potter standing in front of him with a ghostly Luna behind him – ghosts could see Luna, even though other humans besides Harry couldn't. "I– What is..." Nick trailed off, not seeming to know what he wanted to ask.

Harry smiled. "Hello, Nick."

Nick shook his head, which wobbled dangerously, and said, "Why aren't you in Azkaban?"

Harry shrugged uncomfortably and waved his hand in the general direction of the island prison. "It's not far – just beyond that mist, really – but I like getting out of the place and relaxing on an island that's not so cold and depressing. You know?"

Nick looked questioningly to Luna and she smiled knowingly. "He's innocent. Voldemort possessed him and made him kill us."

Nick turned to Harry with wide eyes. "Why, you can be free, then! Why are you still here? Surely Miss Lovegood could have gone to the Ministry and set things straight!"

Harry shook his head, smiling sadly. "No, Nick. Luna's a ghost of a ghost – I called her down here to have someone to talk to, really, and no one besides other ghosts and me can see her."

Understanding dawned on Nick's face. "Necromancy..."

"After a fashion," Luna agreed cheerfully.

Harry nodded. "I can only affect ghosts," he explained. "I can't call demons or bring corpses back to life. Even if I could, I don't think I'd want to, really." He smiled happily at Nick. "I thought I might try something, if you're open to the idea?"

"Erm, well..." Nick looked wary. "What is it?"

"I'd like to see if I can finish detaching your head from your body."

Nick's eyes went wide, then he smiled. "I– yes, I'll let you try that."

Harry nodded and picked up a sword he'd transfigured from a stone earlier. "Sorry if this hurts at all," he offered.

Nick shrugged. "A little pain is worth it," he replied, then picked up his head, giving Harry a better shot at what was left of his neck.

Harry took a deep breath and touched the black string in the back of his mind. Focusing on that connection, he swung the sword at the last little bit of skin holding Nick's head on. The skin broke and Nick let out a 'whoop', which made both Harry and Luna smile.

Nick happily tossed his head in the air and caught it again, then turned to Harry with a large smile. "Thank you, Harry."

Harry nodded. "Of course. Think of it as repayment for all the times you've helped me over the years."

Nick frowned and settled his head back on his body carefully. "My deeds on your behalf shy in comparison to what you have just given me, Harry, and I don't know if there is a way for me to repay you."

Harry shook his head. "Don't worry about it," he suggested.

But Nick couldn't just leave without finding some way to repay Harry. "What if I were to testify on your behalf? To get you out?"

Harry smiled bitterly. "They'll put me right back in because I practise Necromancy," he pointed out. "No, I'm fine here. I get two meals a day, plenty of free time and wonderful conversation." He nodded to Luna, who laughed.

Nick shook his head, then had to catch it as it fell off his shoulders. "Harry, I can't simply leave you here without doing something."

Luna floated forward. "What if you were to spread it around that Harry was innocent? Tell the students at Hogwarts and the other ghosts. You don't have to say how you found out, simply say that you did. Maybe, if popular opinion is that he's innocent, they'll reopen his case."

"What good would that do?" Harry asked. "They had Ginny Obliviated, and she's the only other person who knows the truth."

"Other than the Death Eaters who were there!" Luna shot back, then turned to Nick. "Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange. And Dolores Umbridge. Those three I know for sure knew what happened. If we can get one of them on trial..."

"But what's to say they'll tell the truth?" commented Harry, who had hunted Voldemort's mind for ways to get himself free when he first woke to his powers almost two years ago. "All three of them can overcome Veritaserum, and none of them are particularly inclined to offer the truth to free me anytime soon. It's not like my being here in Azkaban is putting a damper on Voldemort's reign of terror or anything."

Nick moved his head, which he was holding, forward and backward, so it looked like he was nodding. "He has a point. Unless we can trick them somehow into telling the truth about what happened, it'll never work."

Luna looked like she might blow a fuse, then paused to listen to something that the other two couldn't hear – Harry had spent enough time with her to know she was listening to something that either his other friends or his parents were saying. After a moment, she started to smile, then she looked at Harry with a glint in her eyes that made Harry want to run away. "Your dad says that you should become a vigilante and start capturing Death Eaters yourself. Get them to admit their wrong-doings and write them down, then drop them off at the Ministry. Hermione says that, if you get enough of a reputation, you can go for Lucius or Umbridge and they'll have to tell the truth about everything, even if everyone believes they're good."

Nick blinked. "You can, ah, talk to the dead?"

"After a fashion," Luna replied cryptically.

Harry hummed as he considered the idea. "You know, that might work. Especially if Nick is inside the school, telling people I'm innocent. And when Sirius and Remus come to visit, I can have them spreading word. Well, Remus can, at least. Maybe. I hope..." He frowned at that. Sirius was an escaped convict and Remus was a werewolf. No one was going to listen to either of them.

"You'll need a name," Luna said immediately, trying to draw Harry out of his dark thoughts.

Harry nodded. "Aye. But what sort of name? I can't use my real name, and I don't know if using another name from the wizarding world will help much..."

"Well, you need a Marauder name anyway," Luna commented, probably from his father. "Why not pick one and just use that?"

"Oh," Harry said, surprised at the simplicity of it, yet daunted by finding a name that would cover all three of his forms.

"You know, you don't have to cover all three forms in your name," Luna commented dryly, apparently reading his mind.

"Three?" Nick squeaked.

Harry nodded. "A black sea snake, a black leopard, and a thestral."

Nick settled into a seated position a few inches off the ground, looking stunned. "Not only do you have three forms, but one of them is magical?"

"Erm, yeah." Harry blushed. "It was rather a shock."

"I'll say," Nick agreed.

Luna rolled her eyes. "Lily says that, since all your forms are so dark and you only really spend time outside of Azkaban at night, you could go with a night time theme."

"Yeah, but Moony's already taken," Harry joked.

"How about 'Dorcha'?" Nick said, seemingly out of nowhere.

"What does that mean?" Harry asked curiously.

"It's Gaelic for 'dark'," Nick explained.

" 'Nuit' is French for 'night', says Hermione," Luna offered. "But Lily likes the idea of you having a Gaelic name more."

Harry blinked. "Oh. Irish roots. That makes sense." He frowned thoughtfully and tried the two different suggestions out a few times. After a few minutes of contemplation, he glanced back up and said, "It sounds kinda feminine, I suppose, but I think I like Dorcha the best."

"The fact that it's feminine sounding will probably throw them off for a while," Nick pointed out.

"He has a point," Luna agreed.

Harry grinned. "Alright, then. Dorcha's my name."

-~/^\~-

A form draped in black appeared silently in the square in Godric's Hallow. The shadow of the solitary war memorial hid its appearance from any watching eyes, though there was no one to see anyway. At three o'clock in the morning, everyone was asleep.

The dark form almost seemed to float as it moved through the square and down a silent lane with cottages lining it. The form stopped outside a cottage with a flickering candle dancing in one of the windows. It stepped up the walk to the door, then stood there, unmoving. After a moment the door popped open, a strong gust of wind slipping out of the house and causing the figure's cloak to flare out behind it as it stepped into the house unhampered. The wind that had blown out followed the figure back in and pushed the door closed, then fell dormant.

The figure stepped into the room with the candle where two men sat, staring at one another across the room and neither noticing the figure's arrival.

The man closest to the door said, "I'm not sure how much I like this idea of razing Diagon. My wife–"

"Your wife, your wife," the other man grumbled, waving his hand dismissively. "Forget about your wife, Gibbon. She is nothing to our Lord."

The first man, Gibbon, rubbed his hands together nervously. "You can only say that because you're not married, Macnair."

Macnair let out a snort. "And nor will I ever. I know better than to be tied to some woman who wouldn't want me even if under the Imperius."

"You have no charm," Gibbon snapped back.

"And I don't really want any," Macnair said with humour. "Charm isn't needed for murdering creatures."

The cloaked man in the doorway decided he'd heard enough mindless prattle and cast two Incarcerouses in quick succession, followed by a stunner to Macnair. He wasn't taking any chances.

The stunner was a good idea, as Macnair managed to get his wand out in time to banish the ropes, but the stunner caught him in the belly and the man toppled over from his half-standing position. Gibbon squeaked and huddled inside his bindings.

The cloaked man pulled back his hood to reveal a dark-skinned man with caramel-coloured eyes and long black hair. A black band around his forehead mostly covered what looked to be – from the few it didn't cover – a mass of scars. When he spoke, the man had a deep, painfully scratchy voice, "I am Dorcha and I have an offer for you."

"Untie me this instant!" Gibbon demanded. Or tried to; his voice was high pitched with fear.

Dorcha smiled grimly. "No, Michael. Allow me to make my offer first, yes?"

"I want nothing you could offer me!"

"Oh? Nothing?" Dorcha taunted. When Gibbon shook his head, Dorcha added, "Not even the life of your wife?"

Gibbon went white. "Not Abby...."

Dorcha shrugged. "Her life is of no importance to me, but the information you can give me is."

"What do you need to know?! I'll tell you everything! Just, please..." Gibbon fell awkwardly to his knees in front of the chair he'd been restrained in. "Please don't hurt my Abby."

Dorcha's lips twitched. "We have an understanding then?" Gibbon nodded his head furiously. "Excellent. Tell me about this attack the Dark Lord is planning."

"It's set for this Saturday. We're to go to Diagon and act like normal shoppers until Lestrange apparates in. Then we're to start attacking in our Death Eater robes. We're supposed to leave as soon as the Aurors show up. Please don't hurt Abby!" Gibbon whimpered.

Dorcha rolled his eyes. "How long have you been a Death Eater?"

Gibbon looked to be doing some quick math in his head for a moment, then whimpered, "A little over four years..."

"What about Macnair? Do you know?"

"I-I'm n-not sure..."

Dorcha sighed. "What crimes have you committed in the Dark Lord's name? List them all." He shot the kneeling man a threatening look to get the best results.

Gibbon listed fifteen Muggle raids that he'd killed and tortured on as well as three Aurors and nine regular witches and wizards that he'd killed during a raid on the Ministry building two years ago and the little girl he'd raped and killed at his initiation.

Dorcha thought he might be sick.

"Please, sir.... Please don't hurt my wife. She's never had any part in this. She doesn't even know I'm a Death Eater!"

Dorcha sighed. "I wasn't going to, you fool. Stupefy." He rubbed at his nose wearily and took a moment to check that he had enough time left on the tape he was recording on before spelling chains on Macnair and calling both his and Gibbon's wands to him, then ennervating the executioner.

Walden Macnair immediately shook the magic off and fixed his captor with a deadly glare as he tested his bindings. "Niggy!" he called after a long moment of silence.

As soon as the house-elf popped into view, a furious gust of wind slammed the creature into the far wall rather painfully. Dorcha quickly cast a couple of spells to ensure that the elf didn't get in the way again and shot Macnair a faintly amused look. "Clever, Walden, but not clever enough. How about you tell me what I want to know and I promise not to bring your house down."

Macnair narrowed his eyes. "What makes you think I'd help you?"

Dorcha tapped his wand against his cheek thoughtfully, ignoring the pale gold sparks it shot out. "Let's see. Perhaps because you don't want to lose all this lovely furniture that's been in your family for generations?"

Macnair twitched. "Who cares about some ratty old furniture?"

"I certainly don't," Dorcha offered, then turned his wand on the ancient grandfather clock in the far corner and cast a blasting curse.

Macnair's eyes went wide and he hurriedly said, "What do you want to know?!"

Dorcha smirked down at the man and ran through the same basic questions he'd run through with Gibbon. Macnair didn't have anything to add about the attack on Saturday, but he'd been a Death Eater since the first war and his record of devious acts far out-did Gibbon's.

Once Macnair ran out of things he could remember, Dorcha assured him that he wouldn't ruin anymore of his family furniture and stunned him again. He quickly tied the two Death Eaters together and placed the recorder and tape with a note braced between their heads. Two snapped wands and a portkey charm on a teacup later and the two Death Eaters were gone. With a crack, Dorcha disappeared.

-

-

A/N: FYI - Approximately the last third of this chapter was written in March of '08. Any weirdness should be blamed on the long period of time between writing.

Comments? Concerns? Critiques? Leave a review!
~Bats

Next Chapter: ...To Have Friends (April 3rd)


(P.S. - This chapter was SUPPOSED to be updated tomorrow – Thursday – but I'm dead tired and don't care to try and stay up 'til midnight my time or try and remember to post this tomorrow, so you get it early. Anyway, it's Thursday SOMEWHERE. XD)

EDIT: I fail at French. 'Soir' changed to 'Nuit'. Thanks, JacobimVonStyluss (FFN).