The Breaking Point

Durmstrang Grounds, April 11th

Shaking with rage, Harry eyed his target. Raising his wand, a murderous expression on his face, he snarled, "Crucio!"

The sickly yellow curse left his wand and struck the creature, the force of the spell caused it to fly backwards a few feet before it got up and tried to escape.

"Crucio."

Again the small animal fell to the floor, twitched momentarily, and quickly got up to flee.

"Just what did that thing ever do to make you so upset?"

Whirling around, a curse on the tip of his tongue, Harry found himself jabbing his wand into Calypso's chest. The rage in his eyes dimmed slightly. "I'm –"

"...trying to use an unforgivable against a frog of all things. I can see that," Calypso finished, looking concerned. "What I don't understand is why. What did your father write that has you so upset?"

Trembling slightly, Harry removed the slightly crumpled letter from his pocket and handed it to Calypso.

Son,

This is a very difficult letter to write. The first thing I want to assure you is that Nathan is alright.

With that said, last night, Peter was able to access Gryffindor tower after he found a list of passwords that had been accidentally lost during a Care of Magical Creature's lesson. Apparently, the new guardian of Gryffindor tower was periodically changing the passwords, and Neville Longbottom was having a difficult time remembering them.

Peter, well, he made his way up to your brother's dormitory with a knife. Fortunately, he didn't know which bed was Nathan's, and he accidentally woke up Ron Weasley, whose screams alerted everyone else. Peter tried to stab Ron, but Nathan was able to send a blasting spell, confringo, at him (thank you so much for telling Nathan about that spell, Harry, it probably saved Ron's life). The curse caused massive damage to the dormitory, and all that we found left of Peter was some blood and a finger.

The Dementors will stay around Hogwarts until the end of the year, but early indications are that Peter is dead.

Nathan is, obviously, not taking the news that he has killed someone very well. Your mother and I are trying to encourage him to focus on other things, but it is difficult. Your uncle Sirius and I bought Nathan a firebolt racing broom as an early birthday present. This seems to have helped a bit. Nathan has a big Quidditch match coming up against Slytherin and the firebolt has helped to keep his focus on the match and not on what happened with Peter.

Please, write to your brother Harry. He needs to hear from you.

Love Always,

Dad

Calypso silently returned the letter to Harry. "I still don't understand. Why are you cursing a frog?"

"Toad," Harry corrected angrily. "Longbottom has a toad."

"I see," Calypso replied, wrapping her arms around Harry and looking into his eyes. "And why do you want to hurt Longbottom's pet?"

Harry felt his breathing quicken. Try as he might, he couldn't clear his mind. Just like it had when he first read the letter in the Main Hall, Harry knew his emotions were about to explode, and there was nothing he could do to stop them. Rather than try, he snarled, "This is all Longbottom's fault. That stupid, fat, god forsaken piece of Thestral shit is the reason my brother could have died!" Harry's energy seemed to leave him after his proclamation and a few tears made their way down his face. "Nathan could have died."

Pulling Harry close to her, Calypso kissed his cheek. "But he didn't," she whispered. "He's alright."

"No thanks to Longbottom." Harry spat out angrily.

"Harry," Calypso's voice softened, "don't do this."

"Do what!"

Calypso met her friend's eyes directly. "Something's wrong. Something besides this! You've been closed off for weeks. Please, just tell me."

Harry remained stubbornly silent, refusing to give any indication that Calypso was right.

"Harry, look at yourself!" She eventually snapped, unable to bear the continued silence. "You're trying to cast an unforgivable!"

"What do you care," Harry finally said. "I'm sure when you run off to tell on me to your father, he'll be so impressed."

Doing her best to ignore the slight stab of pain Harry's comment had caused, Calypso said, "This isn't Longbottom's fault. He wasn't trying to harm your brother. Pettigrew was."

Harry's face darkened.

"You don't want to do this, Harry. I know you're better than this." Calypso motioned for Harry to turn around and look behind him. "What do you see sitting on the fallen log?"

Reluctantly doing as Calypso asked, Harry turned around.

"Well?" Calypso asked again.

"It's a toad," he replied heatedly.

"Yes it is," she said, "and does that toad look like it has just been subjected to the most painful curse ever created?"

"No," Harry growled. "It looks...fine."

"That's because you didn't properly cast the spell." Calypso paused. "When you thought of cursing the creature, you were thinking about Longbottom, right?"

"Yes."

"And did you want Longbottom to suffer? Did you want to enjoy watching him writhe in pain? Or are you simply hurt, upset, angry." Calypso reached out and touched Harry's shoulder. "Maybe a little scared for your brother."

"I--I was–"

"It's okay." Calypso walked around her boyfriend, looked deeply into his eyes, and hugged him.

While he resisted at first, Harry found himself sagging into the hug and embracing it. He wasn't sure how long they held each other, he didn't really care. He was so very tired of keeping everything bottled up. Eventually, he said, "It was Ivan."

"What?" Calypso asked softly.

"The detention wasn't lashes," Harry's voice trembled slightly as if telling Calypso the truth somehow brought all the original feelings back. "I mean, it was, but it was so much more than that. He used Legilimency on me. I couldn't stop him. I just... I couldn't keep him out. I just... he... he beat me."

The admission caused Harry's anger to return tenfold. "That fucking Serb beat me. He had me immobilized in his office, and he just kept hitting me until I couldn't take it anymore, and I just gave up. I couldn't keep him out..." Harry laughed – a broken bitter laugh that echoed around the woods. "I didn't even try after a while. I just cried and let him tear into my mind without the slightest attempt at stopping him!"

"I hate Ivan, Calypso," Harry's voice was empty, devoid of any real emotion. "but I hate that I gave up so much more. I've never felt so weak, so utterly pathetic... so helpless."

He couldn't help it. The memory of himself – broken and beaten – being whipped in Ivan's office immediately came to the forefront of his mind. Rather than using Occlumency to suppress it as he had mostly tried over the previous month, Harry let himself go. He knew every detail of the scene. Everything from Ivan's grinning face, to the number of tears that fell from his face. While the memory once brought him nothing but embarrassment and shame, now he could feel nothing but hatred.

Whirling around, Harry thrust his wand forward and spat, "Crucio."

The moment he said the incantation – fueling the spell with all the hate, anger, and self-loathing he could muster – he felt hot, fresh, tears falling down his face.

When the creature began twisting and screeching in agony on the ground, Harry didn't see a toad. He saw Ivan grinning, he saw Peter raising the knife to kill his brother, and he saw the bleeding and broken version of him hanging in Ivan's office crying for mercy – a mercy he wouldn't give.

Harry wasn't sure how long he held the spell. Truthfully, he didn't care. It wasn't until he felt the last of his emotions leave him that he lowered his wand, and he sagged to the wet ground feeling physically and emotionally exhausted. He wanted nothing more than to break down and cry, but he didn't have any tears left, not for Ivan, not for Peter, not even for himself. Now it was time to move on.

Reaching out, Calypso carefully removed Harry's wand – her face pale and ashen at the vicious display she had just witnessed. "Come on, Harry, let's... let's get you back to your room, okay?"

With Calypso's help, Harry slowly stood up, and the two of them made their way back to the castle. He never noticed the notice-me-not charm Calypso weaved around them to keep passersby from bothering them, nor the way her eyes narrowed into slits of barely concealed rage as they passed Ivan casually chastising a fifth year.