The Gathering Storm
Chapter 43: The Gathering Storm
Harry woke before the sun rose, a heavy knot twisting in his stomach. He had been dreaming again, though the details slipped from his memory like mist as he opened his eyes. Shadows moved through the fog of his thoughts—dark figures, flashes of spellfire, and a pulsing, cold dread. The vision had left him shaken, his heart racing against his ribcage like a caged bird seeking freedom.
The dormitory was still and quiet, the soft snores of Ron and Neville the only sounds breaking the pre-dawn silence. Harry lay there for a moment, staring at the crimson canopy of his four-poster bed, the familiar warmth of the Gryffindor tower doing nothing to ease his nerves. The silver coin in his pocket felt heavier than usual, as if it, too, was brimming with the tension that had been building for days.
He sat up slowly, careful not to wake the others, and quietly swung his legs over the side of the bed. The cold stone floor sent a shiver up his spine as his bare feet made contact. Today was the day of the Hogsmeade visit, but Harry knew it wouldn't be a normal one. His vision from days before had shown him a glimpse of what was coming. The attack on Hogsmeade wasn't a question of if—it was only a question of when.
As he dressed, pulling on his robes with trembling hands, Harry's mind raced. He needed more information. The vision had been clear, but it hadn't given him enough. There were still too many unknowns: where would the attack begin? Which part of the village would be the most dangerous? And, most importantly, how could he and his friends avoid the worst of it while keeping others safe?
Harry reached into his trunk, pulling out a length of string and a piece of parchment. The parchment crinkled loudly in the quiet room, and he froze, glancing over at Ron's bed. His best friend stirred but didn't wake, mumbling something incomprehensible before rolling over. Harry exhaled softly, then sat on his bed, heart pounding.
He unfolded the parchment, laying it flat on his lap. He had already scribbled the names of the key places in Hogsmeade: The Three Broomsticks, Zonko's Joke Shop, the Shrieking Shack, Honeydukes, and a few other notable spots. Each name seemed to pulse with potential danger, and Harry felt the weight of responsibility settling on his shoulders.
His hand trembled slightly as he retrieved the silver coin from his pocket and tied it to the end of the string. It felt warm against his palm, almost like a living thing. He held it up, the silver disk swinging gently in the dim light filtering through the dormitory windows. Harry took a deep breath, steadying himself. He was going to use the coin as a pendulum to divine the level of danger in each place.
This was something he had only attempted a few times before—pendulum divination wasn't a practice he was familiar with, but the coin seemed to guide him. He closed his eyes, focusing his thoughts, and whispered under his breath, willing the pendulum to show him where the danger lay.
He hovered the coin over The Three Broomsticks, watching as it began to sway gently. At first, the movement was slow, but gradually, the silver coin picked up speed, circling clockwise over the name of the pub. Harry frowned, biting his lip. The danger there was present, but not overwhelming—at least not yet.
Next, he moved the pendulum over Zonko's Joke Shop. Almost immediately, the coin began to swing faster, moving in wild arcs, as though the very air around it was filled with chaotic energy. Harry's heart raced. Zonko's was going to be more dangerous than he had anticipated. He quickly marked it on the parchment with an 'X', his quill scratching loudly in the quiet room.
Then came the Shrieking Shack. As soon as Harry positioned the pendulum over the Shack, the coin started spinning wildly, the string whipping in his hand. The speed and intensity of the movement startled him, and he nearly dropped it. The energy there was fierce—almost violent. His breath quickened, and he pulled the coin back, marking the spot on the parchment with a thick line.
That's where it'll hit the hardest, he thought, staring at the spot on the map. The Shrieking Shack had always been a place of mystery and fear, but now it seemed to be at the heart of something far more dangerous.
Finally, Harry hovered the pendulum over Honeydukes, hoping for some reassurance. The coin barely moved. It swayed lazily in place, signaling that the sweetshop would be relatively safe, at least for now. He exhaled a sigh of relief, marking Honeydukes as a low-risk area.
With the locations now marked, Harry moved the pendulum to the center of the parchment, where no names were written. He needed to assess the overall danger that day—to understand just how severe the threat was.
Holding his breath, he asked the question in his mind, How dangerous will this day be?
The silver coin began to swing in a slow, steady circle. But within moments, it picked up speed, spinning faster and faster, until the coin was a blur in the air. Harry's pulse quickened as he felt a surge of dread in his chest. The pendulum spun so wildly that it seemed as though it would tear from the string.
Harry yanked his hand back, heart pounding. The message was clear—the entire village was in danger. He needed to be ready. They all needed to be ready.
He shoved the coin back into his pocket and folded the parchment quickly, his mind racing. He had to tell Ron and Hermione. They were planning to meet in the common room before heading to Hogsmeade, but now they needed to know just how bad things could get.
As if on cue, Ron stirred in his bed, sitting up groggily. "Harry?" he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. "What time is it?"
"Early," Harry replied, trying to keep his voice steady. "We need to talk. Get dressed and meet me in the common room. I'll get Hermione."
Ron blinked, confusion giving way to concern as he saw the expression on Harry's face. "What's wrong, mate?"
"I'll explain downstairs," Harry said, already moving towards the door. "Just hurry."
---
Harry found Hermione in the common room, curled up in an armchair with a thick book open on her lap. She looked up as he approached, her brow furrowing at his tense expression.
"Harry? What's wrong?" she asked, closing her book and standing up.
"We need to talk," Harry said, glancing around to make sure they were alone. "It's about Hogsmeade. I've... I've seen something."
Hermione's eyes widened, and she nodded, understanding the gravity in his tone. They waited in tense silence for Ron, who stumbled down the stairs a few minutes later, still pulling on his jumper.
"Alright, I'm here," Ron said, stifling a yawn. "What's this all about?"
Harry pulled out the parchment from his pocket, spreading it on the table in front of them. The fire crackled softly behind them, casting long shadows across the floor and illuminating the worried faces of his friends.
"I did a divination this morning," Harry began, his voice low. "With the coin."
Hermione leaned in, her eyes scanning the markings on the parchment. "What did you see?"
Harry pointed to the marked locations, explaining the pendulum's movements and what they might mean. "The Shrieking Shack—there's something going to happen there. Zonko's too, and a bit of trouble near the Three Broomsticks. Honeydukes should be safe."
Ron let out a low whistle. "Blimey. That bad, huh?"
"It's worse than we thought," Harry admitted, running a hand through his messy hair. "The pendulum was spinning so fast when I asked about the overall danger. It's like it was warning me that the whole village is in danger. We need to be extra careful today."
Hermione bit her lip, studying the map with a mix of worry and determination. "Are you sure this is accurate? The coin... it's powerful, but we don't fully understand how it works."
"I know," Harry replied, meeting her gaze. "But I can feel it, Hermione. The danger is real. I can't explain it, but it's there. We can't ignore it."
Ron glanced out the window, where the sky was just beginning to lighten with the promise of dawn. "So what's the plan? Stick to the safe spots and avoid the Shack?"
Harry shook his head, his green eyes flashing with determination. "No. We can't just avoid everything. If the attack happens, we need to be able to act fast. We'll stick to our groups, but we'll have to keep our eyes open. I don't want to be caught off-guard."
Hermione nodded, her expression serious. "Right. We'll keep watch and be ready. But Harry, we can't let the others know too much, or it'll cause a panic."
"Agreed," Harry said, folding the parchment and pocketing it again. "We'll tell Fred, George, and Ginny to be on alert, but that's it. The fewer people who know, the better."
The three friends exchanged grim looks, the weight of the situation settling over them like a heavy cloak. The usual excitement of a Hogsmeade trip was missing, replaced by a tense anticipation of what was to come.
"Let's just hope it doesn't come to that," Ron said quietly, voicing what they were all thinking.
---
They left the common room in tense silence, making their way down to the Great Hall. The corridors were still mostly empty, with only a few early risers trudging sleepily towards breakfast. Harry could feel the weight of the coming storm in every step he took. Even the hallways of Hogwarts seemed quieter, as though the castle itself was holding its breath.
As they reached the entrance to the Great Hall, Harry spotted a familiar figure waiting near the doors. Albus Dumbledore stood there, his long silver beard gleaming in the early morning light. His blue eyes twinkled behind his half-moon spectacles, but there was a seriousness in his gaze that made Harry's stomach clench.
"Harry," Dumbledore said quietly, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder. "A word, if you please."
Harry nodded to Ron and Hermione, who continued into the Great Hall, casting worried glances back at him. He followed Dumbledore to a quiet alcove, away from the growing stream of students heading to breakfast.
"I sense that today will be... eventful," Dumbledore said, his voice low. "Your instincts have served you well in the past, Harry. I trust they will do so again today."
Harry swallowed hard, wondering how much Dumbledore knew. "Sir, I—"
Dumbledore held up a hand, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "No need to explain, my boy. I am granting you permission to visit Hogsmeade today. You have my authority to act as you see fit. Be vigilant, and trust in your instincts."
Relief washed over Harry. He nodded, feeling the silver coin pulse in his pocket once again. "I will, Professor. Thank you."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with a fleeting warmth before he turned and walked away, leaving Harry with a sense that the day ahead would be one of the most important of his life.
---
By the time they arrived in Hogsmeade, the village was alive with activity. The usual hum of conversation and the clatter of feet on cobblestones surrounded them, but to Harry, it all felt distant. His senses were on high alert, every sound and shadow putting him on edge.
They gathered in the village square, the autumn sun now high in the sky, casting long shadows across the cobbled streets. Harry scanned the area, trying to shake the ominous feeling gnawing at him. He saw familiar faces—Hogwarts students laughing and chatting, villagers going about their business, shop owners arranging displays—but something was off. The village felt too normal, as though it was oblivious to the danger lurking just beneath the surface.
"Alright, listen up," Harry said, keeping his voice low as he addressed their small group. Fred, George, Ginny, Neville, and Luna had joined them, forming a tight circle. "We need to split up and keep an eye out for anything unusual. Fred, George, and Ginny—head to Zonko's. Ron, Hermione, and I will patrol near the Three Broomsticks. Luna and Neville, check the outskirts."
"Got it," Fred said, his usual grin replaced with a rare look of seriousness. "What exactly are we looking for?"
Harry hesitated, not wanting to cause panic. "Anything out of the ordinary. People acting strangely, sudden changes in the crowd. If you see something, send up red sparks. And whatever you do, stay away from the Shrieking Shack."
The others nodded, their faces a mix of determination and nervous energy. As they dispersed, Harry felt a twinge of guilt for involving them, but he knew he couldn't face this alone.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione made their way towards the Three Broomsticks, weaving through the crowd. Harry's hand kept drifting to the silver coin in his pocket, its warmth growing stronger with each passing minute.
"See anything?" Hermione asked, her voice tense as her eyes darted from face to face in the crowd.
Harry shook his head. "Not yet, but it's close. I can feel it."
Ron shifted uneasily beside him, his hand hovering near his wand pocket. "Maybe we're just jumpy. Maybe nothing'll happen at all."
But Harry wasn't convinced. His grip tightened on the coin as a sudden chill washed over him, despite the warm autumn sun. The coin grew hotter, almost burning against his skin.
Suddenly, the wind shifted. The bustling sounds of Hogsmeade grew quieter, as though muffled by some invisible force. Harry's breath caught in his throat as he spotted a figure standing in the distance, near the edge of the village, close to the Shrieking Shack. A tall, cloaked figure, unmoving, watching.
"It's starting," Harry whispered, his heart pounding.
Ron followed Harry's gaze and stiffened. "Bloody hell."
Hermione's eyes widened as she looked in the same direction. "We need to get the others."
Before Harry could respond, the air seemed to crackle with tension. The coin in his pocket grew unbearably hot, and in that moment, Harry knew with certainty that the attack was about to begin.
He turned to Ron and Hermione, his voice steady but urgent. "Go. Now. Get Fred, George, and Ginny—meet back here. We need to be ready."
Hermione nodded, her face pale but determined. "Be careful, Harry."
As she and Ron sprinted off into the crowd, Harry took a deep breath, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. The figure near the Shrieking Shack had disappeared, but the sense of danger remained, growing stronger with every passing second.
He stood alone in the middle of the village square, the silver coin throbbing in his pocket, as if warning him of the storm that was about to break. Students and villagers continued to mill about, oblivious to the threat. Harry's eyes darted from face to face, searching for any sign of the danger he knew was coming.
And then, like the calm before the tempest, everything stilled. The villagers, the students, the distant rustling of the trees—it all seemed to freeze for a heartbeat, the world holding its breath.
In that moment of eerie silence, Harry's scar began to prickle. He raised a hand to his forehead, a familiar sense of dread washing over him. He knew, with sudden clarity, that Voldemort was near.
And then, from the far edge of the village, a scream pierced the air.
The storm had broken.