I'd like to invite you all to a new Yahoo group!
The Triumvirate of Verbosity is a Yahoo group for the fanworks of myself, Cheering Charm, and Phoenix_Song. It will include all of our stories, FanArt, discussions etc. Please drop in and join our group!
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/triumvirateofverbosity/
You'll finally get a couple things in this chapter you've been itching for:
1) The conversation you've all been waiting for with Dumbledore
2) A bit more information, including a last name-many thanks to Soch on helping me clarify that one, for our good friend Damien!
By my calculations you've got one more chapter left before you're all caught up to where I am. I appreciate your patience in my updates-as you can imagine this story takes quite a bit of time and energy to write, edit, beta, and post. Especially for someone with 2 small children and a 50-60/hr a week job.
Also, For your Info, I have created my own LJ (Live journal) Please stop by and say hello!
http://www.livejournal.com/users/vicariousleigh/
Without further ado….
Chapter 12 - Humiliation and Revelation
"Another 10 points to Ravenclaw!"
Cheers erupted loudly enough to be heard over the wind rushing through Harry's ears. It was becoming a phenomenon so frequent it was throwing Harry off his game.
Not only was their new strategy not working, it seemed to be imploding on the Gryffindor team as a whole. Harry was spending more time watching the team, and acting as a spectator, than looking for the Snitch. That was something that did not pass unnoticed.
"Harry! Either call for a time-out, or look for the Snitch!" Ginny barked as she flew past the spot where he hovered. Ginny took matters in her own hands and reverted to their initial strategy nearly thirty minutes ago. Harry suspected Ron encouraged her to do so. He had seen them exchanging a few orders at Ron's end of the pitch shortly before she altered her strategy.
Ron was another story. He didn't appear to be following any predetermined strategy at all. He had dissolved into a purely reactive state and was losing the battle with Ravenclaw's chasers. More to the point, he was losing the battle with one Ravenclaw chaser. It was the new one, the one they didn't know about. It was the one, that had they known about, they likely wouldn't have revised their strategy at all.
Put simply, she was taking Ron "to school."
Harry continued to watch her fly circles around the pitch. If he had any argument with her as a player, it was that she was a bit tight with the Quaffle. She either had little confidence in the other chasers, or a stubborn streak to surpass Hermione's. However, she was a seventh year, and this was her first game.
She's probably just trying to prove something to everyone.
Harry winced as she shot the Quaffle directly passed Ron and through the left hoop again. The screaming from the Ravenclaw grandstand nearly drowned out Ginny's voice as she noticed Harry's obvious lack of progress.
Harry shot upwards, spiraling the pitch, in search of the Golden Snitch. It was time to end this game and save what "face" the Gryffindor team still had intact. He continued to listen to the commentary as Gryffindor managed a goal here and there, but "Ravenclaw" was clearly echoing throughout the stands above all else; well, nearly all else.
As Slytherin and Gryffindor have nothing short of a blood feud raging within the halls of Hogwarts castle, that animosity translated quite literally to the Quidditch Pitch. Just as the Gryffindors have whole-heartedly endorsed anyone playing Slytherin, the snakes were repaying the favor in kind; and it was throwing Ron off his game.
Harry had seen that look before, and it always seemed to accompany a vivacious rendition of "Weasley is Our King." Unfortunately, Draco Malfoy 'lyricist extraordinaire' had found nothing better to do with his time.
She flies around and circles him,
And then she throws the Quaffle in.
And that's why Ravenclaws all sing,
Weasley is our King!
Malfoy almost managed to lead the stands into a second verse. Ginny, in an obvious show of support for her brother, decked Malfoy as she zipped past with the quaffle clutched in her left hand. Harry made a mental note to watch Ginny's right hook when Madam Hooch's back was turned. That was a mistake Malfoy was not likely to repeat. Nor was he likely to hang over the end of the grandstand bellowing out the song ever again. Harry couldn't help but smile as he lofted higher and higher in search of the snitch.
Shortly after he redoubled his efforts, he saw it. He was scarcely aware of the rousing cacophony from the stands. They knew he'd seen it. He shot off toward the far corner of the pitch toward the gleaming hint of gold. It was fluttering near the grass in plain sight. As a matter of fact, the way the sun was glinting off of it, he was thoroughly surprised the Ravenclaw seeker wasn't hot on his heels. He gave a backward glance and noticed his rival following halfheartedly behind.
Confused, but encouraged that the Ravenclaw seeker had no chance, he returned his gaze to the Snitch. He leveled himself on his Firebolt and took off like a shot. As he grew closer, he relished in the din that erupted in the stadium. It grew to the familiar, ear-splitting decibel that usually accompanied his capture of the snitch; with one exception. The last thing he heard, before closing his fist around the Snitch was Ginny's voice speeding up behind him.
"Harry! No!"
He landed softly on the pitch, snitch in hand, only to see Ginny turn in the other direction, letting out a stream of vulgarities that would've made Mundugus proud. He looked to the stands to see McGonagall's face buried in her woolen scarf and Slytherins celebrating with the Ravenclaws (who appeared to want to celebrate alone). As the rest of the team landed and stormed toward the dressing room, Harry noticed the score.
Ravenclaw 260
Gryffindor 250
Harry stood, rooted to the spot, staring at the score and wishing desperately his eyes needed another exam. As the blue numbers continued to flash, he realized what all the screaming was about. He'd caught the Snitch. He'd ended the game; and Gryffindor was 160 points behind when he did it.
Instinctively, he looked toward the Gryffindor stands. She was there. She was alone. The full count of Gryffindor spectators had cleared the stands quickly, but Hermione remained. She stepped to the front of the grandstand to look upon him. This was the one time Harry was thrilled that Hermione didn't care for Quidditch. There was no judgment on her face, just concern. She smiled as best she could against her furrowed brow and Harry turned toward the dressing room.
He didn't think he'd ever feel this bad again.
That was until he entered the dressing room.
"Yeah! I surely didn't see you stopping the Quaffle Ron!" Ginny was livid.
"Well, for all the time you were watching me, you should've been scoring some points for Gryffindor!" Ron was equally so.
"You do your job and I'll do mine Weasel King…"
"Ginny!" Harry interrupted sternly. Siblings or not, he knew how much that song got to Ron and certainly didn't feel that comment was necessary. The dressing room fell silent upon Harry's admonition. No one seemed to want to speak next. Although Ron appeared to be seething, Harry wasn't sure if that anger was directed at his calamitous mistake, or inwardly, over the fact twenty-six goals made it through the hoops without being touched by 'The King.'
The seven of them stood in a circle, staring at the floor, shuffling from side to side. Clearly this was a "captain" moment. As Harry filled that position, he cleared his throat to address a wholly dejected Gryffindor team.
"Listen, first of all, I'm really sorry." A few mumbled groans and grimaces floated around the room. "I wasn't paying any attention to the score." A scoff clearly emanated from Ginny as she gave a sidelong glace toward her brother. "You worked really hard on that new strategy and you executed it well. I just didn't realize they had a new chaser." Harry lowered his voice to a whisper. "I didn't even think to find out."
The realization hit him squarely in the chest upon speaking the words. He hadn't thought to scout the other team this season. It was a rarity that a team remained unchanged from one year to the next and he'd not given a moment's pause to any player changes by the Ravenclaw team. In retrospect, he wasn't sure if he'd neglected to find out or if he simply never had the time to do so.
He'd been treading water for weeks. But as he raised his eyes to his crestfallen teammates, he realized the sad truth. He had drowned in a proverbial sea of responsibility and he'd taken the Gryffindor Quidditch team with him.
"Harry," Ron began quietly. Harry stopped him with a wave of his hand as he looked back toward the floor. He knew what he had to do although he'd never done anything like it in his life. He'd never quit anything. He'd never really failed at anything other than Divination and History of Magic. He'd certainly never failed at Quidditch. But today, just as he'd once heard an Olympic commentator discuss, he was living the "agony of defeat."
Harry cleared his throat. "I'm not good at this."
"Oh please, Harry! You're the best seeker Gryffindor has had in over a century!" Ginny scoffed, surprising some of the team from their silent mourning.
"That's not what I mean." He took a deep breath. In reality, he felt as though he'd made this decision the moment he saw the score. Now he just had to gather the determination to go through with it. "I'm quitting…" The room erupted with six distinct voices. Harry waved his hands wildly in an attempt to finish his sentence.
"Wait, wait!" he yelled over their argument. "I'm not quitting the team, but I can't be captain any longer. I've not been fair to any of you this year. This is something I should've done before I ever tried to change our offense. I'm sorry."
The room was silent.
Harry's eyes seemed completely unwilling to raise themselves to the others. He certainly couldn't look at Ron. Not only did he feel like a failure, but he also felt like a quitter, and his best friend was ringside for the entire show. He couldn't stand the silence a second longer and inclined his head toward Ron.
"I'll see you later." With that, he turned and left the team to decide their leadership without him. He honestly didn't feel he had the right to contribute to the discussion anyway. He was hardly surprised to see Hermione standing quietly outside the dressing room.
"You're not changed?" she said inquisitively. Harry merely shook his head. It was hard enough to do this the first time. Now he was going to have to explain his decision to Hermione. He drew a calming breath and looked at her, deciding how best to proceed. He began to tell her the happenings in the changing room, but was silenced almost immediately.
"No, wait!" She looked at him hesitantly. "Would it be okay if I tried this myself? It's just what Madam Pomfrey and I have been working on. Harry straightened up and nodded in reserved agreement. He wasn't exactly sure what she was going to do, but he trusted her implicitly. "Don't try to help me." She leveled her eyes to his.
Hermione closed her eyes and furrowed her brow. Harry watched her silently. He felt no different. He didn't hear her voice in his head as he had so many times before. But, in actuality, he wasn't sure where that power came from, him, her or a combination of them both. As it was, he remained as completely neutral as possible so as to comply with her directions. Hermione screwed up her face in concentration and clenched her fists. Stepping blindly forward, she rested her hand on his chest and her face relaxed noticeably. Harry absentmindedly placed his hand over hers and she opened her eyes.
"I'm never going to be able to do this."
Harry was visibly taken aback. He'd never heard Hermione claim she couldn't do something. Usually, a challenging task would make her only more determined to master it. She didn't appear so in this case. She looked just like he felt…defeated.
"Hermione," Harry began. "Yes you will." She looked to him, apparently grateful for the encouragement and closed her eyes again. Her hand fisted itself in his Quidditch robes as she fought harder to find the answers. After a few seconds she dropped her hand in frustration.
"Ugh!" she growled. "I don't understand! How could you be sad and frustrated, feel like a failure, and yet be relieved and happy all at the same time! I'm not doing this right!" Harry grasped her shoulders as she stomped her foot on the ground and tried to calm her. He would've liked to feel surprised by her progress, but honestly, not much about Hermione's academic progress ever surprised him.
"Simple," he said quietly. She startled and looked at him suspiciously. "I'm sad and frustrated because I'm completely snowed under with responsibilities I'm not attending to. I think the whole of Hogwarts understands at least part of the reason why I feel like a failure right now. The part they don't understand is that I feel like a complete failure as Quidditch Captain aside from my mistake as a Seeker today. I'm relived because I just gave up that responsibility and feel loads lighter." Her eyes widened in shock. "And I'm happy, because you're here, and I can do this." He dropped his head and kissed her fully as he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off the ground.
He took it as a personal triumph - the only one of the day - that she began laughing against his lips. She broke from the kiss and dropped her head to his shoulder in a tight embrace. He put her down and, with two equally broad smiles, they stepped apart.
"You know, you're not supposed to laugh when I kiss you Hermione. You might offend my ego."
"Not nearly as much as your Quidditch robes are offending my olfactory senses," she giggled. When Harry failed to reply to her insult, she rolled her eyes and stepped closer. "You smell awful," she whispered. Harry stepped back and took a glance at his soiled uniform. He shrugged his shoulders and with a devilish grin, grabbed Hermione in a playfully crushing embrace.
"What was that Ms. Granger, I don't believe I heard you?"
"Oh, don't you two ever stop being sappy?" Still laughing, Hermione and Harry turned in the direction of the voice that had interrupted them.
It was her.
Aside from how she looked scoring nearly all of the twenty-six goals against Ron, Harry couldn't help but think she looked vaguely familiar from somewhere else. She was a seventh year student as well, yet after six years of classes he wasn't entirely sure he'd ever met her. He certainly didn't know her name.
"Hi Merc!" Hermione said brightly. "I should've known that was you." The two girls gave each other a quick hug beside a clearly flabbergasted Harry Potter. They stepped away and Merc looked expectantly between Harry and Hermione. When Hermione failed to chime in, Merc did it for her.
"Hi Harry." She extended her hand toward him. "I'm Merc Thompson."
"Oh! I'm so sorry. I keep forgetting you haven't been formally introduced!" Hermione said quickly. Harry politely shook her hand.
"Hi. I'm Harry Potter." Merc stifled a laugh and looked toward Hermione.
"Hermione and I have been study partners for a while now."
"Arithmancy," Hermione clarified. Harry looked between the two. Her name certainly sounded familiar. He was even under the impression Hermione might have mentioned her in passing. He knew he'd heard it somewhere. But he couldn't get passed the obvious truth that was staring him in the face.
"So, you are friends?" They nodded emphatically. He looked at Hermione. "And you knew she was their new chaser?" Hermione's face fell. As Harry locked eyes with Hermione, he noticed Merc backing away.
"Well, I have got a really long Potions essay for Snape I've yet to even start. I'd better be going." With a quick glance to Hermione, she quickly moved up the path toward the castle and disappeared from view.
"Harry," Hermione began.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Harry interrupted.
"Tell you what? That Merc plays Quidditch?"
"It seems like it would've been helpful information. Did you watch the match at all? She killed us!" Harry's voice was rising.
"Don't take that tone with me Harry! Does it surprise you that I have a life outside of you and Ron? She's been a reserve for two years! I dare say it doesn't take a great deal of neurons to figure out that she'd fill a vacant position!"
"What does that mean?" Harry was shouting now.
"Figure it out for yourself! Or do I have to do everything for you?" Hermione turned on her heel and stormed up to the castle, leaving a seething Harry Potter in her wake.
"Alright Harry?" Ron's voice chimed in.
"Does it look like it?" he replied, without removing his glare from the back of Hermione's retreating head.
"Cor, what was that all about?" Seeing an ally in his midst, Harry turned to Ron.
"Did you know that Ravenclaw chaser is Hermione's study partner?"
"Yeah, I finally pegged her about halfway through the match…somewhere between her thirteenth and sixteenth goal." Ron tossed his bag over his shoulder and crossed his arms.
"Has she ever told you about her?" Harry inquired.
"Not so much. I really heard of her through Ginny. She mentioned Hermione and that girl to me before. I can't even remember her name."
"It's Merc Thompson."
Ron scrunched his face and looked at Harry. "What in the bloody hell kind of a name is Merc?" Harry shook his head absently and turned to Ron.
"Listen, I really am sorry."
"Don't worry about it, mate. I didn't have the best game of my career either. As long as you're still our seeker I'm happy." Ron smiled brightly.
"Why is that?"
"Because I would be the unanimously elected new Captain; and that means I can tell Harry Potter what to do!" They dissolved into laughter together and Harry gave Ron one of those male-bonding back-slapping hugs that men in athletic gear always seemed to exchange.
"Congratulations, Ron!"
"Let's celebrate! I'm starving," Ron proclaimed. Harry picked up his bag and Firebolt and they set off for the castle in a significantly better mood.
***
To say dinner was awkward would've been a rather obvious understatement. Harry and Ron had discussed the fated Quidditch match while they dressed for dinner. Through their hindsight analysis, Ron had joined Harry in some testosterone-riddled bond of male athleticism that placed Hermione squarely within their crosshairs. By the time they reached the Great Hall, they were ready to spar.
They walked in together and immediately spotted Hermione at the table. She was sitting alone with the accustomed two spaces saved for Harry and Ron. They shot each other a quick glance and walked purposefully toward the table. They settled in across from Hermione without speaking. She stayed conspicuously silent as well. Not surprising to Harry, Ron took the opening shot.
"So, care to tell us anything else about Merc Thompson?"
Hermione stopped her forkful of mashed potatoes in midair. Her eyes lowered threateningly at Ron. "No," she replied simply.
"Really? Then how about telling us why you've never mentioned her before?" Ron replied.
"I wasn't aware I needed your approval to have my own friends," Hermione retorted.
Ron looked incredulously toward Harry. "You mean in the last five years you've never had occasion to tell us about this friend of yours?"
"I've had as many occasions to tell you about Merc as you've thought to ask me about Arithmancy, Ron!" Ron's mouth hung open while he formulated his response. Hermione didn't give him the chance. "Exactly! There are some parts of my life that are not common knowledge even to you, if only because you could care less about them." She stabbed a slice of pork roast from the serving platter and dropped it on her plate.
Harry gathered himself for battle and opened his mouth. He never got out his reply.
"What are you three on abou'." The voice was unmistakable. Harry spun around and found himself staring at the belt buckle of Hogwart's grounds keeper.
"Hello Hagrid" Harry's shoulders slumped having suddenly forgotten the retort that only briefly sketched itself into his consciousness.
"Well, don' ever'body jump up a' once," Hagrid said dejectedly.
Hermione threw a smile over Ron's red hair, and redder face. "How have you been Hagrid? I haven't seen any sign of life from your hut. Are you just arriving to Hogwarts?"
"Well." He leaned over the table. "I been off doin' things fer Dumbledore. Can' tell ya' the details o' course."
"Where have you been Hagrid?" Harry asked absentmindedly.
"Harry, did you hear anything he just said?" Hermione admonished. Harry's face suddenly grew hot. He hadn't been listening to a thing Hagrid said. His attention was still focused on interrogating Hermione about her friend.
Attempting to cover his obvious inattention he added, "How are you?" Harry ruffled his eyebrows, wondering if Hermione's rather obvious eye roll indicated that question had been fielded as well.
"I been feelin' a bit neglected ter tell ya the truth." Harry looked away. This was yet another point of guilt for him. Since their O.W.L. results arrived last year, their course schedule had not included Care of Magical Creatures. What's more, between Hagrid's on again and off again assignments for the Order, and Harry's preoccupation with Hermione, he'd not visited him once last year. Hagrid had been one of the last to find out about he and Hermione. That was something he regretted. Hagrid was the first person he'd met in the magical world, and he regarded him as much a part of his family as Ron and Hermione. He'd often wondered if Hagrid noticed his absence. Now he had his answer.
"How's Madame Maxine?" Hermione asked brightly. Hagrid blushed.
"Doin' fine, 'ermione." He looked mischievously at the three. "Come visit me some time an I'll tell ya all 'bout it." He slapped Harry on the shoulder, a bit harder than usual, and his head collided with the pitcher of pumpkin juice set on the table. As Hagrid was turning to go, he stopped suddenly as if he remembered the true purpose for the conversation. "Oh, yeah. Professor Dumbledore wants ter see ya; all of ya, after dinner." As he walked to the teacher's table, Harry, Ron and Hermione searched each other's expression for an explanation.
***
Harry stifled a laugh as they ascended the stairs toward the Headmaster's office. Although he'd ridden these stairs more often than he cared to count, he was quite sure it was Hermione's first trip. Her eyes were nearly bulging out of her head. Ron shifted uncomfortably, having only visited this office when in fear of detention, or worse. The great stone Phoenix stopped and left the trio staring at the door to Professor Dumbledore's office.
They walked to the door in silence. As fate would have it that was just what they needed to do in order to hear the conversation within.
"So, how much are you going to tell them?"
"As much as I can, Remus. I agree with you, they need to know the truth, at least as much of it as we know."
"I couldn't agree more."
"I'm aware of that. I think if Mr. Keres had not made an appearance at Privet Drive you would've told Harry everything at that time."
Silence.
A chuckle from Dumbledore. "Remus, I cannot fault your feelings for Harry. Those feelings have made as many decisions, or indecisions, for you as they have for me. In this instance I believe you are correct."
Harry, Hermione, and Ron exchanged inquisitive stares as Harry stepped forward to knock on the door.
"Come in," Dumbledore's warm voice welcomed from inside. Harry pushed the door open to see the Headmaster seated comfortably behind his desk. Remus was sitting in a chintz chair to Dumbledore's left with his elbows on his knees and hands folded together. In preparation for the conversation, there were three more chairs on the opposite side of the Headmaster's desk. The trio strolled forward quietly and took their seats.
After a quick glance toward Fawkes Harry asked, "You wanted to see us, sir?"
"Yes, Harry. Its time for us to tell you what we know." Ron gulped audibly and Hermione sat down in the center chair. Harry and Ron took the chairs flanking Hermione. While Ron was, quite literally, on the edge of his seat, Harry sat back expectantly.
It's about time.
"We've had many a heated argument over the appropriate time to tell you what's been going on." Remus let out a huff of air at Dumbledore's rather glaring understatement. "In seeing what was progressing between you and Ms. Granger, I thought it best to let the three of you work out your issues before moving ahead. I should hope you've had time to do just that."
The trio looked embarrassedly at each other, given the tone of their recent meal together.
"First, I'd like to apologize for my oversight," Dumbledore began. "It has been quite some time since I've had the pleasure of being in love with a lady. Had I remembered the intricacies of that particular state of mind, I might have required Ms. Granger's presence at Privet Drive long before the encounter that brought her there." Hermione blushed and looked away. Dumbledore sat up straighter in his chair and folded his arms on the desk.
"Although there has been a vacuum of activity since that time, Lord Voldemort has been rather busy since the end of term last year." Ron shuffled in his seat and threw a quick glance toward Harry. "However, it would appear that he has renewed his activities in the past few weeks. That is what I'd like to speak with you about."
"We'll tell you everything we know at this point," Remus interjected. Harry nodded silently and joined Ron, sitting forward in his chair.
"Voldemort is getting desperate," Dumbledore said flatly.
"Desperate?" Harry couldn't help but repeat the word disbelievingly.
"Well, consider his position Harry," Lupin replied. "He's built his persona as some one so threatening, someone so evil, that not even his name be spoken aloud. Yet, where you are concerned, he's failed miserably…six times."
"Since his return during your fourth year, his sole purpose has been to kill you." Hermione leveled her gaze to Dumbledore's. "He's even been so bold as to make his last three attempts in the presence of his faithful Death Eaters," Dumbledore continued.
"Death Eaters that have now watched him fail to kill you three times," Lupin finished. Dumbledore and Lupin looked to each other, each trying to decide who would speak next. Hermione shattered the silence that accompanied their indecision.
"His ranks are breaking," she interjected quietly. Dumbledore smiled warmly as his eyes twinkled over his half-moon spectacles.
"That they are Ms. Granger," he affirmed. "Our source inside the Ministry indicated that nearly a quarter of his Death Eaters were faltering in their loyalties as of July."
"That's good isn't it?" Ron asked.
"Not if you are a Muggle," Remus answered. He was prompted to continue from the confused looks that crossed each face in turn. "One thing he and his Death Eaters have in common, is their animosity toward Muggles and their prejudice for pureblood witches and wizards. Voldermort knows he's losing ground and he intends to display his power in any way that will keep his Death Eaters faithful."
"Muggle attacks," Harry said darkly.
"They have been increasing in both volatility and brazenness. To date, the Order has attributed twenty-one Muggle deaths to Voldemort and his followers," Lupin said flatly.
"That would explain the Death Eater at Privet Drive," Hermione said to Harry.
"It would Ms. Granger, if Damien Keres was a Death Eater," Dumbledore affirmed.
"He's not?" she inquired.
"No. He is most assuredly not a Death Eater." Dumbledore took a sip of pumpkin juice from the glass on his desk. "To be a Death Eater one must have values, twisted values perhaps, but they must have convictions of some manner. Death Eaters also have alliances and loyalty to Voldemort. Damien Keres has neither."
"Then who is he?' Harry asked, his brow furrowed with concern.
"He's a mercenary. At least, the closest thing to a mercenary the wizarding world has been introduced to," Lupin said as he sat back in his chair and pursed his lips.
"Blimey," Ron said quietly. He looked to Harry with a look that fell somewhere between fear and admiration.
"You see, Harry," Dumbledore added. "Voldemort understands that you are protected while in residence at Privet Drive, although he doesn't truly understand how. His desperation drove him to make an attempt on your life regardless of the ancient charm protecting you. However, he was aware of the risk. He couldn't send a Death Eater to that task and risk driving more of them away if it failed. So he hired one of the most ruthless people he could find."
"Damien," Harry said flatly. Dumbledore and Lupin nodded together.
"He is ruthless," Hermione said quietly.
"And a perfect match for Voldemort," Lupin added. "He's as pureblood as they come. He is one of a rather pure, if not inbred, line of Norse wizards. They have been fighting both wizards and Muggles for centuries. Members of their families have inspired fear on the battlefields of Europe since the Middle Ages. They pride themselves on their exploits in battle. They train their young to follow their example. Damien Keres has nearly 1,000 years of evil pumping through his veins."
"Do we know what happened to him, after…well, after," Ron questioned.
"He disappeared for several weeks after the attack in Surrey," Dumbledore answered. "However, our source has discovered that Mr. Keres is now aware of your survival." He looked to Harry. "Needless to say, failure is not a word appearing in the Keres family dictionary."
All visible motion, including the very breath that issued from their lungs, escaped the trio.
"It would appear, you now have two rather determined enemies, Harry," Dumbledore said softly. Hermione silently took Harry's hand in hers and closed her eyes. Ron's mouth gaped open as he looked from Harry to the Headmaster. Harry took a few deep breaths and wondered if he didn't like his life better before he knew that piece of information.
"Voldemort has failed again, Harry," Lupin said, breaking the silence. "He already staged another Muggle attack at a club in London proper. While the Muggle newspapers are calling it a freak explosion, we are far better informed."
"I don't get how a source in the Ministry could provide so much information to the Order? Doesn't…he…already know who everyone is?" Ron asked in frustration.
"For the most part, he does know who we are. This source came to us a while ago. No one in the Order knows who he is, just that he has access to rather a lot of information," Lupin explained.
"So how can you trust him?" Ron asked bluntly.
"He's never led us astray before. His information has always been reliable. I think we're going on blind faith and gut instinct at this point…well most of us," Lupin said with a laugh.
"Mad-Eye?" Harry guessed.
"His Auror instincts are pulling him along. He knows Voldemort has as many people working in the Ministry as we do. He also knows that the best information can be gained from following the right conversations and searching the right files - files we don't have access to. But, he has issues taking information from someone he's never met, seen, or heard."
"There's nothing wrong with that," Hermione added.
"Perhaps, Ms. Granger. But instinct must overrule analysis and logic upon occasion. Another thing Alastor is quite well aware of," Dumbledore added.
Harry furrowed his brow and couldn't believe the question he was about to ask. "So, why tell us all of this now?"
"Because of the prophecy, Harry," Dumbledore said quietly. "Voldemort is the key and his defeat is becoming ever more important."
"Something big is brewing on the horizon. Not only can we feel it, but our source is having trouble getting any reliable information about it," Lupin said concernedly.
"We can only assume it has to do with his latest plan for you, Harry," Dumbledore added. Hermione's hand squeezed his tighter. Ron slid back in his chair and took a breath.
"Then why tell us?" Ron asked, inclining his head toward Hermione. Lupin laughed audibly.
"Ron, do you think James, Sirius, and Peter could've ever accomplished their Animagus forms without the support of each other? What's more, without their friendship for me, would they even have fathomed such a thing possible?"
Dumbledore smiled at the trio. "In my old age I've come to realize things are not always what they seem. Sometimes we need to think "outside the spell." Dumbledore leaned forward. "For too long we've been focusing on what to do to kill Voldemort. It dawns on me, that's not what the prophecy requires."
In the silence that followed, it was clear the three were mulling over the verbiage of the prophecy, memorized so perfectly in each of their minds.
"Defeat," Hermione whispered.
"Precisely, Ms. Granger. According to the prophecy, Harry has the power to defeat the Dark Lord. It doesn't say kill."
"No, but it does say that neither of us can live while the other survives," Harry added suspiciously.
"While that's true, I've come to understand that prophecies are merely spoken words; and words have many meanings," Dumbledore said as he sat back in his chair.
"Voldemort might not survive, even if Tom Riddle does," Ron said so quietly it was nearly inaudible. Hermione and Harry snapped their attention to Ron. Harry wasn't sure what shocked him more. The fact Ron came right out with his name, or the theory he'd produced with it.
"Exactly, Ron. That's where you two come in. The prophecy also says Harry has the power the Dark Lord knows not. We've been operating under the assumption that power has been the love in his heart. Naturally that drew our attention to Hermione. But Harry loves you too, probably equally so." Harry looked at the floor while Remus continued to speak to Ron. "The Order has come to believe Harry does have the power to vanquish the Dark Lord, but he's going to need the both of you to do it."
Ron raised one eyebrow and looked across Hermione toward Harry. This was a familiar place for Harry. He felt like he'd been planning this moment since he first heard of the prophecy. While Ron had been ringside for some of the encounters he rarely had the warning, or the prior knowledge that he was marching off to fight Voldemort. For years, he couldn't even say his name. Yet, oddly trepidation wasn't what Harry saw reflected in his eyes.
He didn't see an all-consuming fear. He didn't appear to be turning green. Ron appeared calm, concerned, but calm. Their eyes locked on each other and an entire conversation was contained in that moment.
At least if we're in this thing, we're in it together.
Hermione apparently had the same thought as she opened her eyes and raised her head to Dumbledore. "What do we need to do?"
The trio may not have noticed the absence of snoring from the many portraits on the wall. They may not have noticed the sorting hat straighten up from its resting place on the mahogany bookshelf. They may not have noticed the warble that emanated from the scarlet plumed phoenix resting on his perch. But none of them missed the smirk that flashed between Remus Lupin and Hogwarts most celebrated Headmaster.