The Silver Millennium

Authors Note: Hey, thanks to everyone who reviewed. Appreciate it. This chapter is yet another long one…second longest yet actually. But I already know chapter twelve and the others won’t be. This chapter is important, too. Someone dies! Dun, dun, DUN! Who will it be? Hehehe, I had a lot of sugar tonight…can you tell? LOL. Also, this chapter has a “moody” Harry…well, actually it’s at the end of this chapter, but yeah. Hehehe, all of the stories I write centered around Harry always have about one chapter, maybe two of “moody” Harry. Somehow he always creeps up into my stories. Yeah. Kira makes another appearance. She’s been like gone for over half the story…somehow it just happened like that. I couldn’t decide if sixteen should be considered a “man” or still a boy. I didn’t know which to choose! I do know that most sixteen-year-old boys would like to think of themselves as men, hahahaha. Wanted to call it the Dude Without A Destiny. Yeah. I’m rambling. Yeah, but important chapter. I’m ending this now. Bye, bye! 

- | - Chapter Eleven - | -

The-Boy-Without-A-Destiny

“What?” Hermione stuttered, panicking, “Harry Potter? Where is Harry Potter? Ha-Harry Potter is dead, Brice. He’s been dead for five years. You’ve seen his grave.”

“LIAR! Don’t you lie to me,” he snarled, his teeth clenched as he waved a finger in her face in fury. He looked both ways over his shoulder again. For being such a short man that looked no taller than five feet exactly, he had such a huge temper. “Where is he?”

Harry couldn’t bear to just stand there and listen to this jerk that was Hermione’s husband yell at her. He wanted to pull out his wand and hex him, but as soon as he went to pull his wand out of his pants pocket, the footsteps of many more people entered through the door of Hermione’s quarters.

“Shall we begin searching the premises, Sir?” asked the exact same soldier that had wanted to execute Harry. He had a gleeful look in his eye as if every moment of this was pleasure; Sir Napoleon nodded.

“Brice, you don’t know what you’re doing. C’mon, let’s go have a drink of tea downstairs in the parlor. You can tell me about your morning,” she said kindly; her voice wasn’t shaking with nervousness…she was hiding her deceit quite well considering the danger of the situation.

“SHUT UP! I know Harry Potter is somewhere here, I know you’ve been with him,” spat Brice, seething wholly. “Guards, search these quarters. He’s here somewhere.” He looked away from his guards and back at Hermione. “And as for you –“ he glared at Hermione furiously. “We will make you pay for ever, EVER betraying the great man, Brice Lepidus Napoleon!” He had a mad gleam in his eyes now.

Hermione didn’t say anything at first. It was obvious that again she was thinking very hard of something clever to do or say, searching for somehow, anyhow to get out of this very risky situation. She nevertheless never once looked at the curtains where Harry was hiding by; knowing that if she did it would look suspicious.

“Harry Potter is dead,” she said boldly and simply. She seemed to be trying to stall by keeping all of Napoleon’s attention onto her.  “And he took my heart with him.”

Smack!

Brice Napoleon smacked Hermione irately across the face, his chest heaving in anger. He grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her closer to her, gazing still very crossly into her hazel eyes.

“How dare you disrespect me so?” he growled very quietly, barely above a whisper; the guards that apparently didn’t like Hermione very much looked very happy at her being caught at treachery. “How dare you lie to me? I have given you life for five years instead of death! HOW DARE YOU?”

“LEAVE HER ALONE!” Harry shouted, pulling the curtains aside and striding forward, shaking so much with so much anger. He raised his wand straight at Napoleon. “LET HER GO! NOW!”

Napoleon’s face was overcome with such shock and so was everyone else’s. For a moment they all stepped backward in alarm at seeing Harry Potter standing in the flesh. Napoleon let his hands drop from Hermione’s shoulders; Hermione was looking absolutely fretful at what Harry had just done.

“Harry Potter,” Napoleon whispered with his jaw wide. Apparently he hadn’t been expecting Harry to step out from behind the curtains so boldly. He blinked a few times before he regained his rage and temper. “You might as well drop your wand,” Napoleon cackled, “you are in a palace FULL of guards with wands and never forget, in the palace of the mighty Brice Lepidus Napoleon! There is no way you can escape.”

The guards standing in back of Napoleon and Hermione all raised their wands, as well as Napoleon, who pulled his out from his furry white robes. He smirked arrogantly…his smirk reminded Harry somewhat of Gilderoy Lockhart.

“You can do whatever you want to me…just let her go,” he said, cocking his head in the direction of Hermione.

“Did you hear me correctly? You are outnumbered two hundred to ONE!” Napoleon screeched, then he broke down in loud laughter. When no one else laughed, he looked over his shoulder for his soldiers to start laughing; they all did immediately.

Hermione couldn’t help rolling her eyes in annoyance at her husband. Her eyes left Napoleon and landed on Harry. She seemed to be trying to communicate to him; Harry’s eyebrows lowered somewhat in confusion…he never had been too good at silent communicating (of course still better than Ron). She was mouthing something. Napoleon finally stopped laughing and noticed what she was doing. He grabbed her arm and pulled her closer to him.

“What are you saying to him? MORE TREACHERY? How dare you—“ he said, beginning his How Dare You speech again.

Then Harry realized what could at least stall them. He realized what Hermione was trying to do. He opened his mouth and shouted as loudly as his vocal chords could, “RICKETO WEVETIGUM!”

Immediately the room filled with thick smoggy fog as soon as the pale yellow spell left Harry’s wand. Harry ducked down immediately. He crawled low just as there was confusion all throughout the room with blasts of spells going awry and screams of people that had gotten accidentally hurt.

“FIND POTTER! HE’S GETTING AWAY!” Napoleon screamed. But a second later he groaned as someone (Harry knew who) hit him.

Harry made his way through the doorway of Hermione’s study, which happened to be the other half of her quarters, her bedroom. He had crawled this way, because Hermione had gestured toward this doorway several times after muttering her suggestion. A second later someone else entered the room with a quick crawl, and he was relieved to see it was Hermione.

“C’mon we have to get out of here,” he said. His eyes looking into the other room, as a soldier was smart enough to remember the counter curse to reverse the spell. “Is there any other exit?” he asked, not knowing at all.

“There’s always the laundry shoot,” she said. They both then ran towards the door that led into her bedroom bathroom.

Harry shut the door behind them and turned back around to follow Hermione into the shoot. Despite the extreme danger of the situation he still didn’t forget his gentleman manners, and gave Hermione a leg up into the shoot so she wouldn’t have to climb.

“Thanks,” she said, lowering herself down.

Harry climbed up into it a second later. As he let himself drop down the very long and spiraling laundry shoot he heard the bathroom door burst open as soldiers filed into the room. The drop down the laundry shoot was quite fun he had to admit. He would have loved to do this sometime on his own when there weren’t dozens of guards chasing him and Hermione, trying to murder them both or bring them back for torture first and then murder. Anyway it still was fun in a sort of panicking way. He landed softly in a huge bin full of dirty sheets and blankets.

Hermione was already standing out of the bin. She was talking very hurriedly with one of the house elves in this huge laundry room where there were dozens and dozens of them.

“Lady Napoleon is in trouble, she is,” squeaked the one she was talking to. “Gowanda is knowing she has to help her friend. Gowanda is having a plan to help you.”

“Thank you, Gowanda, do you think you could tell me it already?” Hermione asked hurriedly. It seemed the only one’s that actually would choose Hermione over Brice in this Kingdom were the house elves…they seemed all too eager to overthrow him. “Ple-“ Hermione began, but stopped.

There were great shouts from outside, screams, the smell of smoke even. Hermione turned to look at Harry in alarm. Harry felt himself moan softly in detest. He knew this couldn’t be good. It couldn’t be good at all. He and Hermione both ran over to the small laundry room window to see what was going on; both their jaws dropped when they realized what was happening. Outside there were villagers, and they were trying to fight the soldiers.

Of course the majority of them didn’t have wands, but they somehow were still putting up a decent fight with long firewood’s and branches, and some even flaming firewood’s and branches. Harry recognized some of the men fighting as some of the drunks in the pub of the Shady and Sully Tavern-Inn. He recognized good ol’ Foreman Whidbey among them, looking drunk still, yes yet enraged all the same.

“Let OUR Harry Potter go! Let our Harry Potter go!” they were all chanting.

“How the hell do they know I’m here?” Harry whispered, stunned.

“C’mon, Harry…we have to keep going, Napoleon won’t stop until he’s killed one of us or captured one of us. He’s a stubborn man like that. He will do anything now to make sure either one of us, preferably both are put to pain.” She grabbed his hand and led him out of the laundry room, forgetting about any possible plan Gowanda the House Elf had.

“You don’t have a wand?” Harry asked her.

She nodded her head. “Brice took it away when he saw me using it to help a convicted man escape execution…he said I didn’t need it anyway, he said he was my wand, my protection,” she said, rolling her eyes in loathing. “I hate him so much.”

She led Harry down a very empty, all white hallway until they reached a huge arch passage that led outside into a very wonderful, splendid looking garden. Harry noticed immediately there was a gravestone not too far off, it was a very small gravestone, but he suspected he knew whose gravestone it was.

Hermione stopped just near a fence. She looked breathless but determined. She turned to face Harry as she said, “Harry, climb this fence and escape. This leads into a small forest then a pasture. Somehow you’re going to have to contact someone from the past. You can’t stay here. You can’t die. Go on, quick before Napoleon comes or anyone else.”

“I’m not leaving you alone with that whacko,” Harry said firmly. He grabbed her hand now instead of the other way around. “You’re coming with me.” She pulled her hand from his.

“Don’t be silly…I can’t. I can’t go back to the past that breaks all of the rules of time traveling. Hermione can’t see me, she’s not supposed to,” she said, looking fearfully over her shoulder.

“Hermione, I mean you – I mean Hermione would know what’s going on…she wouldn’t go crazy and try to attack you or something,” Harry explained, “I’m sorry but I can’t leave you, he’ll kill you.”

“Oh, Harry,” she whispered, tears coming to her eyes. She leaned closer to kiss him on the cheek gently. “You have to, please. Don’t worry about me…”

Harry looked up from her shoulder and at the archway they had exited from. He saw Casca standing there looking furious as if he had just been betrayed by Hermione. He turned away and shouted at the top of his lungs, “THEY’RE OVER HERE! POTTER AND THE TRAITOR! THEY’RE OVER HERE, SIR!”

Two figures appeared at the threshold of the archway exit, one being Napoleon. Instantly he raised his wand and shouted very loudly, “ADFLUO DEICIO!”

The spell flew almost as quickly as a flash of lightning from his wand and towards Harry and Hermione. The spell crashed straight into Hermione’s back, which was turned away from the archway where Casca, a solider and Napoleon stood. Her legs gave away a second later, and she would have fallen to the floor if Harry hadn’t caught her with his free hands.

“Put down that wand, POTTER…it’s the end!” Napoleon chuckled in arrogant delight.

Harry looked up from Hermione’s unconscious and now injured form, and up at Napoleon his teeth clenched and visible like a caged dog; Hermione didn’t seem to be breathing. He raised his own wand in a swift movement that only Seekers could manage, and screamed probably the loudest he ever remembered screaming, “AVADA KEDVARA!”

It all happened so quickly. Everything. Less than a few seconds later Napoleon was crumpled on the floor…and Harry had been the one to murder him. Harry stood there for many seconds staring blankly, in disbelief at what he had just done. The soldier and Casca both looked astonished, too; Casca’s mouth was dropped in shock.

Harry’s heart was beating so incredibly fast. He never knew a heart could be so fast. He took a few steps backwards, crashing into the garden fence behind him, his arms still around Hermione’s unconscious form. He knew he had to make sure the soldier or Casca didn’t attack him or Hermione now.

“Stupefy!” he yelled, though not in his regular voice. He yelled this spell twice and pointed his wand at both soldier and Casca for each of the two times he said the spell to stun them both. He stood there for a moment longer in absolute disbelief at what he had just done.

Eventually he realized he had to get himself and Hermione out of there. He performed a levitating charm on Hermione to get her over the fence before he climbed over himself, landing on the green grass floor with a thud. He felt like this had to be a dream. He couldn’t have actually murdered someone…could he? Was he now a ruthless killer no better than men like the Death Eaters or women like Bellatrix Lestrange? Yes, he wasn’t. He was now one of them.

He wondered what Hermione would think. He became rather worried that she would hate him for what he had done. He picked her small figure up and carried her as quickly as his very tired legs could manage. Oh yes, he was really, incredibly tired, and not just physically.

For over half an hour he walked carrying the unconscious Hermione in his arms, at least grateful that he had taken her away from the huge battle at the Napoleon Palace. He knew this silent peace he had gained through his evilness wasn’t going to last for very long, but he was glad he at least had this very moment. When he knew he could not continue any longer, he stopped and sat down against the trunk of a tree, laying Hermione softly down next to him at the tips of his legs. From then on he just sat there in quiet, staring around him, thinking, staring at the beautiful Hermione Jane Granger…Napoleon.

He was relieved that she was breathing, yes, but he was in utter shock that he had just murdered a man for the wrong reason. He had been so angry with him, but he didn’t want him dead. At least he didn’t want himself to be the one who was responsible for him being dead. He buried his face in his hands; feeling tears of despise creep through his eyes.

Murder. That was the very thing he had always thought he’d be able to avoid. He hated people that murdered people he loved. He loathed them more then anything and now he had morphed into one of the murderers…the one thing he had always feared of becoming. He was just like Voldemort, he thought. He had just proven himself capable of murder if angered enough. Who was to say if he did it again? He obviously couldn’t control whether or not he could…it just seemed to happen.

He dropped his hands from his face, and almost jumped in fright when he saw Hermione’s eyes opened, staring straight up at him from where she lay. He sighed once the alarm faded away and ran a hand through his hair. He avoided her eyes. He didn’t want to look into those innocent eyes compared to his sinned one’s. She sat up very slowly, wincing at her injury.

“Where are we?” she asked him very slowly. “W-what happened?”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t want to say. He would rather say anything else at all than tell her about what he had just done. He looked down at his hands, knowing he had to. He had to let her know he had killed her husband.

“H-Hermione,” he stuttered, his voice quaking from anxiety. “I…I did something bad. I…your husband, he—“

“What?” she asked. “He what?”

“I…Hermione, I killed him. I killed your husband,” he whispered. It was an enormously low whisper, but Hermione comprehended it still.

She sat there motionless for a few seconds staring at him. Her eyes were overcome with uncertainty. She was looking at him as if she didn’t know him. “You murdered someone,” she whispered, apparently not caring that that someone was her husband. She only seemed to care that Harry had committed such a crime. “Harry…why? Why’d you do such a thing?”

“Because,” Harry said with difficulty. He took in a huge breath. “BECAUSE I THOUGHT HE HAD KILLED YOU!” he blurted in a shout all very fast. He looked back down at his hands.

Again she was motionless. She simply stared at him, now with shock over uncertainty. “You killed him for me? Because of me? You – you killed for me,” she whispered. Tears were in her eyes. “I never would want you to…Harry, why’d you do that?” She exploded into tears, and put her arms around him in a tight embrace.

“I’m – I’m sorry. I couldn’t control it. I just…did it,” he tried to explain. “I’m so sorry, Hermione.”

She pulled her arms from him and wiped at her eyes with her dress sleeve. She sighed audibly. “I’m not mad at you. I’m just disappointed. I never thought you could…I’m sorry, forget what I’m saying.” There was a pause. “I don’t know what will become of us all now.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“This – everything’s going to change. It’s probably going to start another war. But we’ll never win. We’ll never win against the Lord,” she whispered sadly.

“Voldemort, why don’t you call him Voldemort anymore?” Harry whispered. He hated that. He used to love the fact that Hermione was independent and bold enough to say the name without the slightest of a whimper of fear.

“I don’t know. I guess I really am scared of him more than I was when I was younger. I’ve spent five years with a husband that’s his ally. I have to call him that or – I don’t know, I’d be executed,” she said quietly.

“That grave…was it of your daughter?” Harry asked, although he was pretty sure he knew the answer. “Your daughter that died?”

“Yes,” Hermione answered.

“How’d she die?” he asked very consolingly.

“In a fire while with him…m-my husband. I was very ill and there was a fire in Shadow City…the bastard couldn’t save her, he DIDN’T save her!” she cried suddenly very sorrowfully. “She was only two months old.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry apologized. He put his hand on top of hers in soothe. “Do you mind if I ask…I mean, how’d you – why’d you…” he trailed off out of awkwardness. He felt sudden anger at Napoleon as he realized probably how it had happened. “I – how’d you get pregnant from him? I mean…you know, if you hated him so much? Why did you two –“ he said very awkwardly, blushing a great deal.

Hermione nodded slowly. She crossed her arms in front of her and said, “I don’t really feel like answering that.”

Harry understood. It had been a somewhat private question. He looked off to somewhere around them realizing again that they still had to be on the run. He remembered that they were still in some danger. He then recognized where he was. He thought back to just over a week ago when he had first arrived in the Silver Millennium Kingdom. He had arrived just far over on those grassy hilltops. He was near Oxford Village where Agnes Colmes lived. He stood up and lent his hand out to Hermione to help her to her feet.

“Are you feeling fine?” he asked her caringly.

“Yes. Where are we going?” she asked curiously.

“We’re very near to a house of a friend I’ve met while here in this Kingdom. I’m thinking somehow maybe she can be some help. I mean…since you won’t come to the past, I can’t leave the future knowing you’ll have to return back to Lord Metropolis and face whatever inhumane thing they would have planned for you…I know Agnes would let you stay there,” he explained gently. He started walking in the direction he knew was Oxford Village; Hermione followed although reluctantly at first.

They walked along the forest floors for over twenty minutes before Harry knew they were going to have to climb over the fence blocking the forest from the village that was on the other side. He and Hermione both climbed over the fence, now having to walk much faster since they were out in the open streets of Keane Village, a village right next to Oxford Village.

It took them over an hour before Harry saw with a surge of delight the ever-so familiar house of Agnes Colmes. He broke into a slow run towards the house, Hermione following much slower, still injured and a bit confused. He stopped at the door and knocked a few times. Through it he could hear the children’s voices; he couldn’t help having the urge to grin.

“Ms. Colmes!” came Elizabeth’s voice from the other side of the door. “MS. COLMES!  Someone’s at the door! MS. COLMES! SOMEONE’S AT THE DOOOOOOOR!” She appeared to be yelling harder by the second.

“Well then bloody answer it, will you?” shrieked Agnes’ voice, sounding much more distant than Elizabeth’s.

“Okay. Move aside, Tawny! Let me answer the door!” Elizabeth shouted.

“No! Make me!”

“I’ll make you!”

“Go ahead, you big fat snot head!”

There was a few seconds of shuffling feet and groans as apparently the two girls wrestled for the doorknob. There were more footsteps towards the door. The door was pulled open, revealing Agnes Colmes in the doorway. Her mouth opened wide enough for someone to toss something into it, and her eyes widened as well.

“Harry!” she gasped, “you’re all back!” She pulled him into a huge hug. “Where’s Kaitlyn?” she asked, looking around and not seeing Kaitlyn. “Where’d she go, Harry?”

Harry gulped. He had to tell her. He had to be respectful of the memory of Kaitlyn, and tell Agnes what really happened. With a sigh he explained it all. Everything from the four of them taking the carriage to the Death Eaters attacking them. He told her everything down to the last bit about Kaitlyn jumping in the way to save him from death. When he finished Agnes was gazing at him with horror. He was aware that Hermione’s eyes were on him as well in shock.

“I’m sorry,” he said at last. “I…Ms. Colmes—“ He was beginning to get worried when twenty seconds had passed and she hadn’t blinked. “I know you hate me. I know you do.”

“No, I don’t…Kait-Kaitlyn made her own decisions,” she mumbled, blinking now frequently obviously to send back those tears that were emerging. “She was independent enough to k-know what she was do-doing.” Her skin had grown pale already from the news. “Wha-what brings you back here?” she asked.

Harry knew he was being rather insensitive, but this was really important. Yes, he realized in a way more important than mourning Kaitlyn…he needed to make sure Hermione was safe, which was his number one priority. “I need you to let her stay here in secret,” he said, “she’s on the run from Vol – the Lord and his followers.”

Agnes looked confused. “La-Lady Napoleon?” she asked. She started to bow, but Hermione interrupted her. She stood up straighter and said, “of course. Come in, come in.” She guided the way inside.

“Look it’s Harry!” Reyna shouted to Wayne.

“Yay!” Wayne exclaimed, “You’re back!”

“Where’s Kaitlyn?” asked Tawny interestedly.

Harry knew he couldn’t tell them about Kaitlyn. He didn’t have the bravery to tell such young kids about Kaitlyn. He didn’t answer. He sighed in guilt. So many sins he had committed in so little time…

“Lady Nap – I mean, Hermione you may sleep in your own room where Silver used to sleep. I’m sorry we don’t have more costly furnishings to meet your usual standard,” said Agnes civilly.

“No, I don’t care,” Hermione tried to explain. “I’m not some spoiled rich trophy wife like everyone thinks I am.” She sighed as well and decided not to bother explaining herself.

Agnes handed Harry a very small piece of torn parchment. “This arrived earlier this morning for you, Harry,” she said calmly, “it’s from the past. It’s from Albus Dumbledore…”

- | -

“Harry’s going to be fine…I’m sure of it,” Kira Devree Riley said assuredly to Hermione. “But we have to worry about what I’ve got to do. If I don’t figure this out, then the future or the past will never be saved.” She looked back down at the jumble of photos in her hands. “Hmmm…who could it be?”

“Me maybe,” Ron said with a smile.

“You’re a pureblood, Mr. Slow Brain,” Kira reminded. She tossed aside a picture of Seamus Finnigan and continued her search. “The Half-Blood Prince is among us in this school…just have to find out who it is. Do you think it’s a teacher maybe?”

“No. Snape’s too rotten to be the Half-Blood Prince,” Ron growled.

“There are other teachers besides Snape, Ron!” Hermione said, annoyed.

“Yeah, but none as rotten,” Ron pointed out. He gestured his head towards the library doors. “Look whose coming.”

Hermione and Kira looked up from the huge pile of photos they were looking at to see Luna Lovegood walking their way, always as usual looking as if she had wondered in somehow very accidentally. She stopped at their table. It was then that they noticed she had a cage in her hand covered with a maroon cloth. She slammed the cage onto the table, making the photos jump up for a second.

“Hello,” she said dreamily. Her eyes widened as she spoke as if surprised about something. “The grass and leaves are very crunchy outside. Just the way I like it.”

Ron’s mouth was opened as he gaped at her in disbelief at how strange she could be. He closed his mouth and said, “What’s in the cage?”

“Oooh, great that you ask, Ronald. It’s my pet,” she replied. She put her hand on top of the cloth, about to pull it off. “I’ve named it Shelifusia. Pretty name, isn’t it? I thought of it all by myself.”

“That’s a shocker,” Ron muttered; Hermione elbowed him to cease his rudeness.

“It’s my pet hybrid of a tarantula and a bird. Lovely, isn’t it? Father got it for me on my day of birth, Halloween,” she said. Now she pulled the cloth off of the cage, revealing a very eerie looking tarantula with small little wings sticking out of its body besides just hairy legs.

Ron screamed a very high-pitched scream that sounded as if it would belong to a girl. He fell backwards in his chair. He pushed himself onto his feet and turned to run, only to run into a bookshelf, hitting his nose very painfully; Hermione, Luna and Kira were all watching motionless to his idiocy and fright. Ron covered his nose with his hand as he disappeared into an aisle between two bookshelves. He collapsed in a corner and gasped, “Get that thing away from me!”

Hermione turned away from Ron and swallowed. “Um…Ron has a bit of a fear of spiders,” she explained as if this were a minor thing. “He’s very scared of them for some reason.”

“Oh. I’m sorry Ronald!” Luna called to Ron.

“Get it away! AWAY as in KILL IT! Now! Smash it with a book or something,” he whimpered in fright. “HELLO!? Can you hear me? GET that thing away from me, pronto!”

Luna covered the cage up again. She looked amused. “Oh, Ronald…you’re so very crazy,” she said amusedly. She handed the cage over to a passing by Terry Boot and said, “take this back, Terry, will you? Thanks very much.”

“I’M the crazy one? I’M the crazy one?” Ron gasped in utter incredulity. “I’M the crazy one?” he repeated one last time.

“Okay, Ron…calm down. It’s gone,” Hermione said; Kira was laughing amusedly.

Ron made his way back to their library table and sat down; he was still holding his nose in pain as Kira laughed harder. “Is my pain funny to you? Is it?” he asked with beady eyes.

“YES!” laughed Kira, “you’re such a dork, Ron.”

Hermione looked away from the other three and gazed out the library window. She knew Dumbledore had promised that he’d personally make sure Harry would be returning, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t worried beyond words. She just hoped he was okay.

“Say, why do you have so many photos?” Luna asked.

“Uh…” Kira said, thinking up a lie.

“It’s okay, Kira. Luna can know. We can trust Luna,” Hermione said. She looked away from the window. “We’re looking for the Half-Blood Prince, Luna. Do you happen to know of more Half-Blood’s in Ravenclaw?”

“Oh golly yes. Would you like some names?” she asked politely.

“Yes.”

“All right. I would just request to know first who you are, Kira. Then I would like to know where Harry is. Then I can tell you what you want,” Luna said nosily. “I’m very much interested in this story.”

Ron sighed. “Okay, okay…we’ll tell you,” he said. He leaned in closer so that people passing couldn’t hear and began to explain.

Hermione didn’t really listen. She was still thinking of Harry. Worrying about Harry. Hoping with every shred of hope that Harry was alive and on his way back. She only wished he knew how much she cared about him. That much was true.

- | -        

“Harry you’re back!” Hermione screamed blissfully. She threw her arms around him in an embracing hug. She found herself squeezing him a little too tightly, but was sad to find that he didn’t hug her in return.

There seemed something very, very different about him. His eyes were blank as if he had been put through a lot. He looked empty almost. He tried to grin, but it came out as a near frown.

“Thanks, Hermione,” he said quietly. He pulled away from her and ran a hand through his hair. He wanted not to be back at Hogwarts; he wanted to be off at a distant land all by himself without another soul instead.

“What’s wrong, Harry?” Hermione asked. “Did you get in trouble with Dumbledore? How’d he get you back anyway?”

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” he said. “I’m going for a walk.”

Hermione frowned wide. “Can I come with? I’ve missed you so much the past few days,” Hermione said; Harry tried to look into her eyes, but all he saw when he did was a flashback of the moment he thought her future self was dead, of the moment when he ruthlessly raised his wand and murdered a man.

“I’d prefer not,” he said. He continued walking down the hallway even though she had stopped.

“Harry,” she said, jogging to catch up with him again. “What’s wrong? I know there’s something wrong. What happened?”

Oh how he would have loved to tell her everything. Just confess everything to her, but he couldn’t. He found he didn’t have the stomach to tell her of all of the events that had happened after she and Ron had left from the future. He left the great front oak doors of Hogwarts, starting across the lawn; Hermione followed still despite his silence.

“Please, Harry…tell me,” she begged. “You can tell me anything.”

He was reminded of when he kissed Hermione’s future self. He nodded his head to rid himself of the flashback. He wasn’t going to tell her about that either. He quickened his pace.

“Hermione, just – go away, will you?” he asked her calmly.

She didn’t look like she would be giving up. She continued to walk along side him. Normally he would have found this very caring of her to do, but at the moment it annoyed him.

“Hermione,” he said, stopping. “Go away. Please.”

“No. Not until you tell me what’s up,” she insisted.

He stopped near the edge of the Forbidden Forest. He placed his hand on the nearest tree randomly, turning away from her. He just wanted her to go back to the castle, and do whatever she would be doing instead.

“Nothing,” he said.

“Did someone else die?” Hermione wondered smartly.

Harry paused. Yes, someone else died. And he was the one who had killed them. He sighed. She wasn’t going to leave him alone until he told her and he knew she always knew when he was lying.

“Someone died,” he admitted.

“Harry, who?” Hermione asked worriedly.

“Your husband. I killed him.” His voice sounded distant.

Hermione looked utterly bewildered and speechless. She gaped at Harry questioningly. “My – my husband? You…what?”

“I killed someone,” he said shortly. His back was still to her. “I’m a murderer.”

“What? That’s insane. You’d never murder anyone,” Hermione said. She hated that she was speaking to his back. She decided to walk around him so that she would be facing him again; she wanted to see his face. “I know you wouldn’t.”

“What do you know?” Harry snapped. He still refused to look up at her. He was staring at the grassy and sandy floor.

Hermione gently put her hand under his chin, and lifted his head up slightly; she wanted him to look her in the eye. She stared straight into those emerald orbs that were once filled with warmth, bravery, compassion. It was now gone, all of it. The flame of life that seemed to burn within them, the very thing she loved most about them, looked to have gone out completely, extinguished into nothing but a reflection of apparently how he was really feeling inside…lost. The very sight brought tears to Hermione’s eyes.

“Please tell me you didn’t, Harry,” she whispered desperately. She grabbed his hands and held onto them tightly. “Please, PLEASE tell me you didn’t murder a human being…you wouldn’t. You’re not the kind of person that could end someone’s life. It was probably an accident, Harry. It probably wasn’t even your fault. Like Kaitlyn or Sirius, Harry. I’m sure –“

“I KILLED HIM!” Harry yelled. He pulled his hands from hers. “I killed him, Hermione! I killed him, because I WANTED him dead! I’m a murderer no better than the Death Eaters that attack us. Will you leave me alone now? You now know what you asked for.” He knew she wouldn’t leave him alone, so he turned around and walked as quickly as he could towards the castle, kicking any rocks he could along his way.

Hermione stood there frozen to the floor. She was over worried now. She didn’t really know what to think. The one person she always thought was so honorable he’d spare anyone’s life was apparently now a murderer. It made her wonder who else was next to morph into a killer.

- | -

Kira stood up from the armchairs of the Gryffindor common room and started promptly up the boys’ spiral staircase. Ron and Hermione watched her stomp her way up the staircase with bated breath; she was heading up there to talk to Harry, basically to ask him why he was being such a prat.

She knocked at first on the dormitory door, waiting for him to answer the door with his own will. When he didn’t she pulled out a hairpin from her coiled hair and picked the lock. She looked over her shoulder, down below at where Ron and Hermione, who were sitting near the fire and winked at them assuredly. She pushed open the door, striding inside as if she were entering her own house.

Harry looked up from where he sat at the windowsill with his knees to his chest, and his eyes set up at the setting sky. He looked away from the window and over at Kira. He was suspecting Ron, maybe Hermione, but not Kira Devree. They stared at each other for a while; Harry was waiting for her to speak.

“All right,” she said with a sigh. “Listen, you.” She paused. Apparently she was thinking of a good way to say what she had come to say. Finally deciding she had a good way now, she said frankly, “Harry, you’re being an ass…like a colossal ass…an ass bigger than that of a giant. What’s up with you? Lost a Quidditch game maybe? Scar burning a little too hotly? Girl trouble? If it’s girl trouble, then I have the perfect advice; don’t act like a male. Be civilized.”

Harry rolled his eyes, and looked back out the window. He was just going to sit here and ignore her comments.

“Guess not. So, really what is it?” she asked. She walked up casually and sat down on his bed, crossing her legs in Indian-Style. She had picked up the hackie sack lying on Dean’s bed and was now tossing it lowly into both of her hands as she stared at Harry. “C’mon, c’mon…ain’t got all day. I have to meet with Dumbledore in a bit.”

“Then why don’t you go to that?” he snarled, “I’m sure he’ll love that you’re early.”

“Fine. Don’t want to talk, do you? I’ll kick things off then. Literally,” she said as she stood up and started kicking the hackie sag around with the sides of her feet, seeing how long she could keep it up in the air. “Hermione told me everything you told her.”

This seemed to make Harry look up at her in surprise. He couldn’t believe Hermione had told Kira so easily about him committing the awful deed that he did. “She did?” he asked, stunned, “she told you I’m a murderer no better than the Death Eaters or even Voldemort?”

“Holy hell! What in the world?” Kira gasped, standing straight suddenly and forgetting about the hackie sack. “You murdered someone?!”

“I thought Hermione told you—“

“I just said that to get you to start talking. Looks like it worked. She only told me that you two talked and you were acting really un-Harry-ish. If you did kill someone intentionally, which I’m sure it wasn’t, I’m positive he or she really deserved it.”

“I thought – thought that he had killed Hermione,” Harry explained. “I thought he had murdered her. Then I couldn’t control myself. I just…I shot him with the worse spell I could think of, Avada Kedavra.”

Kira burst out into laughter. She started playing with the hackie sack again. “Then what in the bloody hell is your problem? You thought the man had taken someone dear to you away for good, of course you’d want to retaliate. Honestly you twentieth century teenagers are such goody-goodies. It was revenge. I’m not saying it was right of you to do, hell no it wasn’t, but you can’t go blaming yourself. You thought the man took the thing you loved most…you’re only human, revenge is something humans, Muggle or Magical, can’t avoid no matter what. It’s in our blood, ” she said.

“Wait a second,” Harry corrected quickly, “I do not love Hermione most. I don’t love anyone.” He was blushing. He just at least wanted Kira to get that part straight.

“Uh huh. Typical male. Never wanting to admit it. Every git I’ve ever dated always seems to be that way, except Aden of course. No, he was too in touch with his feelings. He had me guessing from time to time if he really was in love with me or my foster brother. But that’s another story. Completely different,” Kira said. “It’s all right you don’t want to admit it. You’re only sixteen. You’re not ready yet.”

“Ready yet for what?” he asked. “Don’t go telling me what I’m reading for and whom I’m going to fall in love with.”

“Uh huh…sure.”

“Well, don’t.”

“Okay, I agreed with you,” she said laughingly. “Touchy, touchy, Harry. Merlin! I just hope you don’t try to use the fact that you’re an orphan as one of the reasons you ‘can never love’ someone. That’s a load of hippogriff manure, and you know it. I’m an orphan and I’ve loved before.”

“That’s right, you are an orphan, aren’t you?” Harry remembered.

“Yes, sir. Never even had the luxury to meet my parents as far as I can remember. I’ve always been told they were both killed in a fire that Sir Brice Lepidus Napoleon’s troops started…I was spared oddly enough and given to an orphanage where I was then put into a foster home. I sometimes almost, just almost can remember a memory from my parents. Just my mother actually. It’s very odd,” she explained, “anyhow what were we talking about again?” She was frowning in forgetfulness.

Harry nodded his head and looked back out the window. He did have to admit talking to Kira helped him feel a bit better, as if what he had done wasn’t as big of a deal. After all it wasn’t as if he had murdered the man for absolutely no reason, right? He hadn’t murdered him just for a sick joy. Kira told him a minute or two later that she had to leave to go speak with Dumbledore, and he said goodbye to her with a short thank you. She didn’t know it, but her words had had a huge impact on him.

The moment she left and he was alone again another important matter plagued him. Why did Kira seem to think Harry loved Hermione? Was this something obvious to everyone around him? Was he just acting like it, yet too oblivious to know he was? And then he remembered slowly that apparently sometime in the future he and Hermione were going to be in love. He thought back to his dream. That strange dream he couldn’t help thinking about frequently.

And anyway, he found himself wondering, what was love? How were you supposed to know if you were in love? He shrugged to himself. He didn’t know what the hell love was…he had never been taught to love anyone.

“What if…” he pondered, “what if I do love her? Just a little…”

But there were so many times where she annoyed him. Her constant studying, her cleverness from time to time, her inability to ever abandon him in danger to get herself to safety, these were all things that annoyed him about her. But even so he knew he could never be angry with her for long. He knew he couldn’t stand being away from her long enough to be truly angry with her. He needed her to be around, he found himself thinking. Even if all those times he told her to go away, to stop trying to tell her what was on his mind, he hated it when she actually did go away. Now he hated himself for thinking all of this.

He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out the small black book Hermione’s future self had given him. He opened it up to a random page, and began to read it. It was of course in Hermione’s neat handwriting.

I’m so happy with Harry. Every time I’m around him, I know I’ll be all right. I know he loves me more than life itself…I can see it in his eyes, I can feel it in his touch. And I love him, too, just as much. I know it was our true destiny to be together.

“No,” Harry found himself whispering, “it’s not our destiny…you don’t know what you’re talking about.” He felt idiotic yelling to a book. He shut the book and tossed it across the room. His face fell into his hands. He didn’t want to have a destiny. He didn’t want anything to be decided for him. Why couldn’t he decide his own fate? “It’s not, I don’t have a destiny. I don’t want a destiny. The prophecy can go to hell! And so can everything everyone thinks will happen! I DON’T HAVE A DESTINY!”

He was content with a sort of selfish joy. He was happy at the decision that he wasn’t going to comply with destiny’s “plans”. He was going to do whatever the hell he wanted to do. Starting tonight. He didn’t care what the hell Dumbledore said. Somehow, he didn’t know how yet, he was going to steal that Time Turner back and travel to a time he was sure he could get away with murdering Lord Voldemort…when he was just a child, an evil child. And he wasn’t going to listen to that book either. He was going to be his own decider. He was going to be the boy without a destiny.

- | -

Authors Note: Well there you have it. The ending of chapter eleven. I would love to hear…read what you think about this chapter. Yeah, so thanks for reading! Please review. *Encouraging smile*