Chapter 507: The Kiss
Chapter 507: The Kiss
In a way, Harry felt he had more to say on the matter.
He rubbed his forehead vigorously, his mind buzzing as if a thousand bees were swarming inside. He kept recalling the times his scar had throbbed with pain. Indeed, it was always more intense when Voldemort was present, with a few exceptions when Voldemort's emotions were particularly volatile. But since he had mastered Occlumency, such occurrences had become much less frequent.
But he was truly different now. The voice in his head could vouch for that.
Harry swallowed hard, picked up his wand, and tiptoed out of bed. The Black Family Manor had two places for practicing magic, and Harry chose to head downstairs. On the fourth floor lived the Weasley couple, the Longbottoms, Fred and George Weasley, and Neville. Sirius Black, whose hearing was always sharp, resided on the fifth floor.
The night was eerily quiet, and the surroundings were pitch black. Harry dared not light a magical lamp, so he relied on his memory to navigate the darkness, carefully placing his feet on the floor, every tiny creak making his heart race. He was glad he hadn't worn shoes.
He soon found the railing leading down the stairs and moved even more quietly as he approached the second floor, where Hermione and Ginny slept. "Thump!" Harry missed a step, miscalculating the number of stairs, nearly falling. His heart pounded, and he held his breath, straining to hear any sounds around him.
Harry was worried about waking Hermione and Ginny, but even more so about rousing the portraits of Mrs. Black, Sirius's mother, which hung in the entrance hall on the first floor. Her mind was filled with decayed and outdated ideas, which her portraits had inherited. With so many new residents, she was clearly unhappy and would seize any opportunity to spew the most venomous language, waking everyone from their dreams if provoked.
Harry waited quietly for several seconds, relieved when he heard nothing.
The rest of his journey went without incident. He carefully avoided the wrinkled house-elf heads on the decorative panels of the first-floor stairs and the umbrella stand made from a troll's broken leg, finding a trapdoor without trouble. He lifted it, revealing a straight staircase leading down.
Harry descended to the second basement level, where a spacious room lay before him, its six walls constructed of black stone. Professor Hep had mentioned that this might have been a spell laboratory abandoned by the Black Family. When Harry, Ron, and Hermione had first explored it, they found only clutter in the corners, thick layers of dust, and cobwebs.
It took them half a day to clean the place. Once the magic spells cast on it were reactivated, they had a proper training room.
The room had excellent soundproofing, and Harry was confident that no one would hear what he was about to do. He flipped a switch, and the torches on the walls lit up. In the center of the spacious basement, several worn-out targets were scattered, each bearing the marks of various spells—testaments to their recent efforts.
He sat on a cushion, looking hesitant.
"Just a try", Harry said to himself. He stood up, raised his wand, but hesitated several times before finally gritting his teeth—
"Avada Kedavra!"
A blinding green light shot from the tip of his wand, missing the target and striking the black stone wall. Harry panted, his mind filled with a rush of destructive and murderous pleasure. The buzzing in his head grew more intense, enticing and urging him. But soon, his Occlumency kicked in, and he broke free from the trance. He began to hate himself for what he had done, for taking this risk tonight. The intense disgust made him gag repeatedly.
Perhaps the best thing he could do now was to go back quietly, pretending nothing had happened.
Then he heard a muffled scream.
Harry jerked his head up, looking toward the entrance—someone had opened it, or perhaps he had never closed it. He had no time to think about the reason; he needed to deal with the more pressing problem.
"Ginny!?" Harry shouted, his mouth agape.
Ginny stood at the doorway in her nightgown, her hand covering her mouth, her eyes wide with disbelief and fear. When Harry called her name, she instinctively took a step back.
She saw it! She saw me use the Killing Curse! Harry's mind screamed. The voice in his head tried to tempt him again, but he refused to listen.
Harry reached out to explain, but stopped when he saw the fear in Ginny's eyes.
He, Harry Potter, had just used an Unforgivable Curse.
Harry kept his head down, too ashamed to look at her. A wave of intense shame washed over him, churning his stomach, and he felt the urge to retch again. How would Ginny view him? As a potential Dark Wizard? Or a second Voldemort? Back in his second year, he had been plagued by similar rumors, with some believing he was an even more evil dark lord than Voldemort, which was why Voldemort had tried to kill him as an infant.
But when Harry learned that his mother’s protection flowed through his veins, his fears had vanished.
Now, those fears had returned.
He had cast the most heinous of the Unforgivable Curses without any prior knowledge, and the spell’s power was comparable to his strongest Disarming Charm. That was the truly terrifying part.
He heard footsteps approaching.
Should he run? Harry thought. It would be the sensible thing to do. Ginny had already surprised him by not waking anyone else, and perhaps he should explain a bit, at least to ensure she didn’t tell anyone. But he couldn’t think of a reason to do so. A bigger worry loomed—how would others look at him if Ginny told them?
Names flashed through his mind: Ron, Hermione, Sirius, Fred, George, Mrs. Weasley... The thought of Mrs. Weasley no longer looking at him with loving eyes made his heart ache.
Harry saw a pair of shoes.
He looked up in shock, meeting a pair of brown eyes. Ginny’s lips were tightly pressed together.
“Do you really want to avenge...?” she asked softly.
“It was an accident!” Harry blurted out, and Ginny looked surprised. “I mean, of course I want to defeat Voldemort, but not like this, not by using—uh—the Killing Curse.”
Ginny studied Harry’s face for a long moment, then, seemingly convinced of his sincerity, she shook her fiery red hair and demanded, “So what exactly happened?”
“I—” Harry opened his mouth, feeling an immense headache, but from the look on Ginny’s face, he knew she wouldn’t let him off without an answer tonight.
“Alright,” he conceded, walking over to the cushion and plopping down. Ginny sat down next to him. “It all started after the award ceremony, when Ron, Hermione, Professor Hup, and I were taken to the Minister’s office...”
Ginny listened quietly, not interrupting.
Harry started out stammering but soon found his words flowing more smoothly. He told her about seeing Voldemort in the Ministry of Magic’s hall, about hearing Dumbledore and Madam Bones’ conversation with Hermione’s help, and the peculiar sensation he felt when he got out of bed tonight, the buzzing in his head, and the rush he felt when he first cast the Killing Curse. He even spilled out all his worries.
“Headmaster Dumbledore was right. You and the Dark Lord share a connection, and that connection makes you more susceptible to his influence,” Ginny said softly.
“I always knew, but I never realized it would be so strong,” Harry said gloomily. After pouring out his heart, he felt much better. “If it’s not because I’m inherently evil, then there’s only one other possibility—Voldemort has passed his knowledge and experience to me. I don’t know if it was intentional or not, but I’m already affected—”
“What makes you say that?” Ginny said sharply. “You’re nothing like him—don’t you agree?” She looked at Harry for confirmation.
Harry’s mouth went dry. Ginny’s face, illuminated by the flickering firelight, had a special glow, and a surge of determination welled up inside him. He spoke loudly, “Of course I’m nothing like him! I would never use that spell on anyone; that’s Voldemort’s way.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, the tightness in his chest eased, as if a heavy burden had been lifted. The constant buzzing in his head disappeared.
Ginny sensed Harry’s resolve. She smoothed her hair and smiled happily.
“Then what are you worried about?” She pulled Harry up from the cushion. “What you need right now is a good night’s sleep.” She leaned in and kissed his cheek lightly. “In my heart, you will always be the hero who will defeat the Dark Lord.”
Then, like a sly Kneazle, she slipped away with light, agile steps.
Harry stood frozen, as if under a special spell, completely petrified.
(End of Chapter)
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