The Silver Millennium

Authors Note: This chapter has a lot of an angry and sad Harry. There’s going to be a fight between Harry and Ron and some other stuff. I really have to start typing more of this story since I haven’t in about a month now…the last chapter I typed to was eleven I believe, but that’s coming soon. Anyway here is the chapter, thanks for reading. ; )

- | - Chapter Eight - | -

Fault of Friends

No one spoke for quite a while. Ron and Hermione seemed afraid to say something to Harry; he had stopped crying now, but was still holding Kaitlyn’s hand staring at her in an angered way.

Truth was Harry was beginning to feel that seed of hatred that always was planted just after a death of someone he had known. He was beginning to hate the way Ron and Hermione were standing there watching him kneel down next to the wonderful Kaitlyn; he was hating the way they hadn’t even gotten a chance to get to see how great she really was.

“Harry,” Hermione finally whispered at last, deciding she was strong enough to speak now. “Harry, I’m sorry. I’m so –“

“Save it,” Harry interrupted very rudely, “I don’t need to hear a fake apology.”

“Harry I –“ Hermione began again, but was once again interrupted by a raged Harry.

“I said save it,” he spat, looking slightly over his shoulder at her from where she leaned against the tree, “you didn’t know Kaitlyn. You didn’t even try to get to know her.”

“Harry, I wasn’t given a chance,” Hermione explained, looking hurt by Harry’s accusation, “please, Harry, blaming us isn’t going to bring Kaitlyn back.”

Harry picked up a rock near to him and tossed it angrily into the distant forest. He stood up fully, putting his hands into his pockets. He was feeling unusually raged at the moment as if anything would set him off; and he was aware he was attacking Hermione for pretty much no reason, but he was so irate that he didn’t care.

“Blaming you?” Harry repeated with an odd laugh, “why would I blame you? You had nothing to do with anything. Nothing. That’s just the problem, right? You did nothing. You hated Kaitlyn, didn’t you? You hated her!”

“No, Harry, I didn’t hate her,” Hermione sobbed, “but what was I supposed to do and why didn’t you do anything?”

Harry let out a growl of anger, picked up another stone and tossed it far away from him to help take out some of his frustrations; he was beginning to shake in anger. He just wanted this all to end now.

“Shut up, Hermione,” he said finally.

“Harry, stop,” Hermione cried forlornly, “you’re very angry right now, because you’re hurting. And I understand you’re frustrated, but taking this out on me isn’t going to bring her back. I’m your friend, you know that…I’m just here for you, Harry, so is Ron. Stop being so angry, please. You’re starting to scare me.”

Unable to help it, Harry let out a roaring cackle as he turned full circle to look at Hermione. He was finding her last comment so comical in an odd twisted way he couldn’t help, but laugh. “I’m scaring you! I’m sorry, I’m terribly, terribly sorry. Where are my manners?” he asked loudly, “ME, I’M SCARING YOU! Ha! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you…I’m such a jerk! Instead of mourning the death of someone who actually cared about me I should have been worrying about scaring you, Hermione! Psssh, damn my shitty manners, right?”

Tears were falling even quicker down Hermione’s cheeks as she stared sadly at Harry; she didn’t seem to think of anything else to say for a long moment. The gaze that usually made Harry feel guilty was no longer working.

“I’m sorry, Harry. I’ll leave you alone,” she whispered, standing to go.

“You do that,” Harry snarled, turning his back again.

“OKAY, STOP!” Ron shouted loudly. He had remained silent for quite a while now, but he seemed unable to stay mute any longer. He took a step closer to Harry looking totally seriously. “Harry,” he said, “why don’t you calm down? You’re taking this rage a bit too far.”

“Oh shut up,” Harry murmured, “I don’t listen to you, Ron. No one does.”

Ron looked as if he were about to take that as an insult before he controlled his temper. “I’m going to ignore that,” he said coolly, “but Harry it isn’t Hermione’s fault Kaitlyn is…well, you know. It isn’t her fault. Don’t take everything out on her. She doesn’t feel well anyway. It’s not fair.”

“I’m not taking anything out on Hermione, Ron! But if you want me to take something out on you, then that’s fine,” Harry threatened, now almost losing all of his self control; he wasn’t thinking at this moment.

“Is that a threat?” Ron asked slowly.

“What are you too slow to figure out it is?” Harry questioned back.

“Both of you stop!” Hermione yelled from where she stood; it didn’t work.

“I’m slow now, eh?” Ron asked back, taking a step closer to Harry, “well, at least I’m not slow enough to take out deaths of people on other people that care about you! At least I’m not thick enough to pick on someone injured!”

“But you are thick, right?” Harry said, also taking a step closer. Now they were only a few inches away from each other and were speaking the most aggressively they had ever done before. “Even you know you’re thick. So does your own mum.”

Ron shoved Harry angrily. “You better shut up, Harry,” he warned, turning completely red, “you’re pushing it now.”

Harry stumbled backwards from the strength of Ron’s shove, but quickly recovered. He stepped back forward and shoved Ron just as hard as he had shoved him; Ron too stumbled backwards.

“Oh yeah, well what happens after I push you too far?” Harry asked, keen to take out his anger on someone.

Hermione gathered enough strength to stand from the tree she was leaning against and slowly walk over. She was looking dead petrified at what was going on between her two best friends.

“Please,” Hermione pleaded fearfully, looking from Harry to Ron, “don’t do this. Not now. We need to get out of here. We need to get back to the future. We can’t do this here.”

“Keep out of this,” Harry said, not bothering to look at her. “What’s the matter, Ron? Are you so thick it’s taking you this long to understand what I said? Wow, I’ve overestimated your intelligence then.”

Ron let out an animal-like growl and took a swing at Harry. Harry, using his Seeker reflexes, dodged it swiftly. A split second later he had taken a swung at Ron and landed it straight in his stomach. Ron let out a groan as if the wind had been knocked out of him, but recovered quickly. He jabbed his arm surprisingly quick at Harry’s chin, landing it this time. Harry stumbled backwards, almost falling on the floor.

“STOP! PLEASE!” Hermione screamed, unable to do anything really.

Harry stood up straighter and took a slight dash at Ron, tackling him harshly onto the floor. From there the wrangle between the two best friends got worse; they were punching every second now at any piece of each other that they could reach. Hermione had stopped crying, because she apparently couldn’t cry any longer.

Ron rolled out from under Harry and punched him powerfully in the face, shouting, “I’m not thick! And even if I were, at least I’m not a jerk!”

Harry spat out blood that had been in his mouth, taking a swing at Ron. “I’m not a jerk! You’re the jerk!” he countered, punching Ron in the stomach, “don’t call me a jerk!”

“Don’t call me thick, you arrogant arse hole!” Ron barked, his eye looking rather nasty from a punch Harry had landed on him.

The two of them seemed to be able to fight on for several minutes occasionally yelling at each other as they did so. Hermione had slowly drifted off toward a nearby tree to rest against it, because she was feeling dizzier than ever at the moment; the cut on her forehead had yet to cease from burning and bleeding.

“I hate you!” Ron shouted.

“I hate you, too!” Harry replied, taking a swipe at Ron, “you…you traitor!”

“Traitor? I’m not a traitor!” Ron growled, tossing Harry away.

“Kaitlyn said you were! You betrayed me on the night I was defeated by Voldemort! You betrayed me, you traitor,” Harry yelled, not caring that he was bleeding way too much.

The two of them moved in at exactly the same time to wrestle the other to the ground. Harry had just gotten Ron into a headlock when Ron stepped onto his foot and socked him in the stomach. Harry fell backwards as well as Ron, who had lost his balance. They both came crashing onto their bums on the forest floor, when they noticed there was no longer anyone protesting their fight.

Ron looked straight at Harry with his good eye that wasn’t bleeding. “Where’s Hermione?” Ron asked, “She’s gotten awfully quiet.”

Harry took this as an opportunity to end their fight; he had gotten out all of the aggression he had been harboring, although his sorrow was starting to return. He looked around both ways and said, “you’re right.”

They both seemed to spot her at the exact same moment. She was lying on the ground curled halfway into a small ball, apparently passed out. They both crawled toward her urgently.

“Hermione,” Harry whispered, feeling his stomach drop.

“Is she okay?” Ron asked, scared. “We’re both jerks. She asked us to stop…and we didn’t.”

“Come on,” Harry said, “we have to get to some kind of hospital. Do you think they have those now?” He checked Hermione’s pulse just in case; she was still alive.

“I don’t know,” Ron said, “I wish you could find that Time Turner.”

Harry looked around at the floor in one quick glance. “Ron, what should we do? We can’t just sit here…she’s been bleeding for too long. Maybe we can make it back to Ms. Colmes’ house.”

“No way,” Ron disagreed, “that’s way too far. It’ll take us over an hour. It’s not exactly good to leave her bleeding for more than another hour. Do you know first aid?”

“No,” Harry answered, wishing he did. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Well, let’s like dry some of the bleeding,” Ron said, taking off his cloak and using the sleeve to wipe the blood from the cut of Hermione’s forehead. “Do you think that helped? What spell does Madam Pomfrey use?”

“Erm…” Harry stuttered; he hadn’t the slightest clue.

“Hermione, wake up,” Ron said, unable to think of anything else to do, “we won’t fight anymore.”

“Hurting she is,” said a strange voice from behind them.

Harry and Ron spun around out of alarm, only to discover they were staring at an impish sort of creature. Harry had trouble recognizing this creature; until it dawned upon him it was a House Elf.

This House Elf was a very aged looking one, even older looking than Kreacher. Unlike most of the House Elves Harry had met; this one did not wear a potato sack, but a small sort of brown cloth that appeared to be his version of a robe. His nose was very long and pointy, and his eyes were very small as if he were squinting. His expression was difficult to read.

“Who…who are you?” Harry asked.

“Corpus, sir. Corpus is the name of me,” the House Elf responded, taking a half step forward; he walked with a old, but very short for a normal person, walking stick. “Harry Potter is the name of you is what I know.”

“Right,” Harry said slowly. He turned away from the House Elf and said, “We should just try to find a hospital.”

“Hospital is no more,” Corpus said, “destroyed the hospital was. Destroyed from commandments of the Lord.”

“That’s nice,” Harry humored. “C’mon, we have to get out of here.”

“Yeah,” Ron agreed.

“I is able to heal her,” Corpus informed, “I is assuring you.”

“How?” Harry asked, looking over his shoulder at the old House Elf.

The House Elf Corpus simply smiled delightedly as he walked slowly over using his walking stick. When he reached them, he put his small claw hands a few inches above Hermione’s cut and muttered some words of magic that both Harry and Ron had never heard before. It sounded like some sort of ancient magic.

Ron and Harry were left kneeling near Corpus with their mouths dropped greatly. They looked up at the House Elf in shock.

“How’d you do that?” Harry asked him, “She’s okay now, right?”

“Corpus has made her fine, yes,” Corpus said, “ancient healing of us House Elves. Helpful and effective it is.”

“Thanks,” Harry said, “how can I repay you?”

“Change, Harry Potter, change,” Corpus mumbled still with a smile; Ron was looking a little scared by the House Elf.

“Erm…change?” Harry asked uncertainly.

“Change, Harry Potter, change,” Corpus repeated.

“Let’s get out of here,” Ron whispered, “what if You-Know-Who sends more Death Eaters after us? He must be wondering what happened to these three blokes by now.”

Harry nodded. “Thanks,” he said to Corpus, “really, thanks. Erm…maybe we’ll meet again.” He stood up.

“Corpus knows we will,” said Corpus softly. He turned away and walked out of sight again with his walking stick; Ron watched him go with both eyebrows raised.

“We meet the oddest people,” he muttered, “I think we attract them.”

Ron decided to carry Hermione to the empty Death Eater carriage since she was still unconscious. Harry was reluctant to leave the scene; he didn’t want to leave Kaitlyn like this, his heart was aching with hurt again. He also didn’t want to leave without the Time Turner.

“Harry,” Ron reminded.

Harry nodded and walked to the carriage very unwillingly. Ron hopped onto the front bench, volunteering to drive. Harry agreed since he was in no mood to control a powerful vehicle. Instead he got onto the backbench and sat down next to Hermione, who was still out cold.

Ron turned the carriage around full circle and started back the way they had come. Harry looked out the window feeling nothing, but guilt and grief. Grief for the lost of Kaitlyn, guilt from the way he had treated Hermione when it wasn’t her fault. He buried his face in his hands feeling so confused as to what to do, feel and even think.

He couldn’t continue on like this watching people die like they were nothing; he couldn’t. He didn’t know if he could keep his sanity if he had to witness another person he cared about die like nothing in a blink of an eye.

Looking away from the window his eyes traveled to Hermione, who was now finally sitting up, looking confused. She looked around the carriage from the back of Ron’s head to Harry.

“What…what happened?” she asked very quietly, apparently not feeling like her old self still.

“You…you passed out,” Harry told her, “while Ron and I were fighting. You had bled too much. It’s okay. You’re going to be fine now. You’ve been healed. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“But –“ she stammered, “what about the Time Turner? What about Kaitlyn?”

“We had to leave them,” Harry replied also very quietly, barely above a whisper; his voice was feeling weak, because he was feeling a lump in the middle of his throat. “Just rest, Hermione. Rest.”

“Yeah, Hermione obviously we’re both feeling very guilty for what happened to you,” Ron said, giving her a cheery grin with his cut lip. He turned back around and continued staring straight at the road ahead of him.

Hermione didn’t say anything; she only stared at the floor of the carriage for a moment. Harry was no longer paying attention to what was going on around him. He was leaning back on the carriage seat, his head bent backwards so that his eyes could only see the carriage ceiling.

Harry was panicking at that very second; reality had smacked him hard in the face when he had seen Kaitlyn die, Ron and him fighting and Hermione passed out; everything had mixed together to conjure fear inside of him. He now had this horrible feeling as if Ron and Hermione were going to die before the future Kaitlyn had told him about.

Suddenly, his eyes were starting to swell with tears of ache and worry at the thought of losing anyone else; he was already blaming himself for Kaitlyn’s death and he was sure if something happened to either Ron or Hermione, he’d go spare this time with guilt and grief.

Harry lowered his head, so that now he was able to see a lot more than just the ceiling. His eyes traveled over to Hermione, who he noticed was watching him with a sort of apologetic guilty stare.

“What?” he said confusedly.

“It’s just,” she began with difficulty, “I’m so sorry, Harry. I’m so sorry about Kaitlyn. I know you probably don’t want me to bring her up again, but I can’t help it. I feel so guilty. I’m sorry.”

Harry looked at her incredulously and he noticed Ron almost did, too. Again he was hit with a guilty feeling in his stomach and conscious. Now he even had Hermione thinking she was the reason Kaitlyn was dead.

“You don’t need to be sorry,” Harry said, “it wasn’t your fault. It was my fault Kaitlyn’s dead. I just blamed you, because I was mad…I should be the one saying sorry. I’m the jerk. I’m the one that deserves to be dead, not Kaitlyn.”

“Harry, that Death Eater was crazy,” Ron said from where he sat, “in fact, all Death Eaters are crazy. That’s why they’re Death Eaters. It isn’t anyone’s fault.”

Silence fell again between the three of them. Harry looked out his side window and let his head fall against the carriage wall to rest against it. All the thinking he was doing was giving him a headache.

Another five or so minutes passed in which no one said a word; all three of them were doing some serious thinking.

“The Time Turner,” Hermione said at last, “we shouldn’t have left it.”

“We had to,” said Ron. He almost turned to look back at them, but seemed to remember he was driving the carriage. “You-Know-Who was going to send more Death Eaters sooner or later.”

“But now we can’t get back,” Hermione reminded, “We can’t stay here. It isn’t safe for Harry.”

Ron nodded and gave a slight half shrug, but didn’t say anything. Harry wanted to point out that their only reason for going back to the past shouldn’t have been, because they were worried about him; he felt a sudden pang of annoyance for some reason for their concern.

“Harry, why’d you call me a traitor?” Ron asked.

“Huh?” Harry stuttered, being caught off guard by Ron’s sudden curiosity about the matter.

“When we were fighting,” Ron explained, “you specifically called me a traitor. Why am I a traitor? What have I ever done to you to betray you? Call me thick all you want, but I can’t think of a thing. Does this have to do with the Quidditch Captain fiasco? Harry, I didn’t get it…Katie got it. There’s no reason to continue being upset about it.”

“No, that’s not it,” Harry said.

“Then what is?” Ron asked.

Hermione had started to appear like she had taken interest in their conversation. She was looking from the back of Ron’s head to Harry before back again. Harry didn’t answer for a moment.

“Erm…” he said, “wait, that was it. Yeah, sorry about that.”

Both Ron and Hermione looked at Harry. Harry knew he hadn’t made any sense, but he wasn’t able to come up with a better excuse for him calling Ron a traitor. Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He was just glad that Ron had heard him the first time he had blurted it out during the fight.

“Okay,” Ron said slowly.

“Harry, you’re lying,” Hermione said straightforwardly, “why have you been lying to us so much lately? What is it? Do you think you can’t trust us anymore? Is that what’s bothering you?”

Like before, Harry didn’t answer. He hated that he wasn’t being truthful with his friends, but still he didn’t want to tell them. How could he trust them once he had learned Ron betrayed him the night of his disappearance and Hermione married an ally of Voldemort?

“I’m not lying,” he said, “it’s nothing. Forget about it.” There was a tense pause; Harry searched for a new subject to bring up. “Wait, where do you get Time Turners from?”

“I dunno,” Ron answered, having as much of a clue as Harry did.

”They’re specially made,” Hermione said, “at least they used to be. I doubt if Voldemort allows Time Turners to be made for just anyone. He probably has them made only for his uses. Why, Harry were you thinking of trying to get one?”

“That’s our only option, isn’t it?” Harry asked.

“Who used to make them?” Ron questioned Hermione curiously.

“I’ve never actually heard for certain, but I believe it would be the Time Maker. This is if I’m remembering correctly,” she said, thinking it over; her eyebrows pushed closer together out of deep thought.

“Well, there has to be a Time Maker still around,” Harry said, “there has to be.”

“How can you be so sure?” Ron asked.

“Obviously we need to ask someone,” said Harry, looking outside the carriage window for someone to ask. “But I think most people would recognize all three of us.”

“Probably not me,” Ron volunteered, “no one would probably remember me, especially if I keep my hood up. What do you think?”

“I suppose it’s worth a try,” Hermione agreed.

Ron pulled over a bit unexpectedly, got out and started walking down the side of the road towards a pedestrian. Harry and Hermione watched nervously from where they sat; Harry was praying this worked. He stopped in front of a few people and asked them, but no one seemed to know.

Finally Ron stopped quite an old woman and started talking to her. The woman was hunched back with an orange colored scarf wrapped around half of her face, blocking it from view; her nose was huge, the only feature of her face that Harry could make out from where he sat, was her nose. The two of them talked for a minute plus before Ron started walking back toward the carriage.

When he got in, he had a pleased smile. “She said there’s only one Time Maker left. She said he leaves in Cryptic Village. I asked her for directions and she gave me this,” he said, pulling out a long furl piece of parchment.

Harry took it from Ron’s hand and looked down at the map; it was a map of the entire Silver Millennium Kingdom. Harry almost caught himself grinning until he remembered they weren’t safe yet.

“All right,” he said, looking up from the map, “we don’t have any options left, but to follow this map. It says Cryptic Village isn’t that far from here. Seems like it’ll be about a half an hour ride to maybe an hour. Let’s go.”

“It’s surrounded by forest,” Hermione commented as if this were something fearful.

Ron nodded his consent, and then started the carriage up again, this time turning immediately so that they wouldn’t continue down the road they had been going. Harry sat back a bit more comfortably in his carriage seat, staring down at the map. He hoped so much that this Time Maker could help them, because if this plan failed, then he didn’t know what they would do.

Authors Note: Thank you for reading. I would love to hear what you think. Thanks. ; )