Unofficial Portkey Archive

Boys Don't Cry

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or anything else except the plot and the poor little devil Matthew.

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This fic is ending very, very, very soon.

Amulet: A piece of jewelry worn to provide protection against evil, injury, disease, or bad luck.

Important Note: Read Author's note at the end of chapter. Please read the note before reviewing. Thanks very much.

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Amulet

Harry felt as if he was swimming. In a deep, dark, bottomless pool. It was dark and he could not see a thing, but he could feel the swaying motion, gently rocking him with its overlapping waves and fluid outstretched arms.

Slowly and unexpectedly at the same time, he began to feel the sea's waves become stronger. He could feel it thrust him and then shoved him forward. He could feel it fill his mouth, salty, as it roared and began to collapse and crash down on him. He was sinking, slowly, as he tried to get his head high above the water for air. He felt the water try to push him down, as he strived to get more oxygen. Just then, he felt something tugging at his feet.

He gasped as it pulled him down. He was plunged deep inside the black sea, as it pulled him deeper and deeper, never ceasing or slowing down. He struggled, trying to get the icy grip off of his feet, as his lungs were about to burst. But it continued to bring him down and deeper.

He knew they were never to reach anyone or anything at all.

The sea was bottomless.

He struggled more, swinging his feet and trying to swim up, but there was no use. He was being dragged deeper and farther…

He felt his heartbeats slow into a muffled thud. His eyes were closing, as his body became still and unmoving. His arms were up, limp, as if he was expecting someone to suddenly reach down and pull him up, saving him from his doomed fate. He could feel the water humming in his ears and his mind's thoughts slowly slipping away.

The darkness seemed to deepen. The cold swept through him, but soon he could no longer feel the current or sway.

Soon, he could not feel a thing at all.

oooo

Harry woke up with a gasp, his vision dim and blurry. His throat was still burning and rough, as he took deep breaths. He felt as if he hadn't taken a breath in ages, as if he had been forced to hold it in all this time. His head ached with a throbbing pain and the room seemed to be tilting and unsteady, as the freezing cold air prickled his pale skin. He looked down, shivering, and saw a crisp, clean white blanket covering him from the waist up. He raised his gaze, and found two dark and blurry figures standing at the edge of his bed. He reached over, his hand trembling, as he took his glasses and slowly put them on.

He recognized the white walls. The big windows. The many beds all filled with colorless sheets and blankets.

He was in the Hospital Wing.

He looked up at the figures standing before him, and saw that it was their Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, and a very worried Madam Pomfrey. Dumbledore was looking at him with a concerned, sorry and dim look.

"I'm glad you're up, Mr. Potter," he said, in a quiet voice. Harry looked at him intently, his vision still not quite up to detail, before looking down. He recognized that he was still in his robes from last night, though now they were clean and dry. He remembered his intoxicating and strange, haunting dream… and he felt as if he was still in that same water. Drowning, feeling helpless and weak. The room seemed to sway just as the current had, making his head nod slightly to the side before he regained his composure. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to recall why he was here and just had happened. "We've been waiting for quite a while."

Just then, he felt a deeper and fiercer cold sweep through him. Images and memories flashed in the darkness that played inside his eyelids. Last night, the ball. The dance. Hermione. Matthew, the Death Eater. Hermione…

"Hermione!" Harry suddenly shouted, his voice raspy and his eyes wide with realization and alarm. He coughed, as the sudden outburst strained and hurt his throat. Madam Pomfrey suddenly rushed to his side and poured him a glass of water, scolding him though her reprimands no longer held its regular sternness and austerity he remembered from being in here so many times. She handed it to him and he drank it down, the cool fluid pleasantly sliding down and easing his aching, parched throat. He lowered his glass when he finished, as he set it down on the table beside him, looking at Dumbledore with worry and fear in his eyes.

"Hermione," Harry said, the same overwhelming and cold fear swallowing him whole, once again. His voice shook as he said her name, recollections from the night before ripping through his focus and thoughts. "What… what happened to her? Is she alright?" Dumbledore gave him a sad and worried look that made Harry's heavy heart collapse. Harry felt his lungs suddenly become filled with an unexplainable bile acid that rose up to his throat, as he watched the silent Dumbledore. "She's alive," Harry said quietly, his hope flickering like a small flame on a candle being gently blown out. He was trying to convince he and even himself, it seemed. He seemed to be trying to convince the invisible ghosts and ears of the walls. "She's alive… Isn't she?"

Dumbledore stood unspoken, as he looked over at the bed beside Harry's. Harry tried to look in the direction his gaze was pointed at, but a pale white drape stood in his gaze. The curtain had been drawn.

Harry felt his hope grow smaller and smaller, flickering, weak and feeble. He felt his eyes sting with an icy warmth that he knew all too well, but had never let slip. His throat was blocked, and he could not swallow.

"She's alive," Harry insisted. "She has to be. She has to be. She's alive." The room stayed silent, as Harry felt his temper and anger flare up. The silence was deafening. It echoed all his fears and made the reality he tried to deny crowd around him. The bare white walls teased and laughed at him. He turned away, gritting his teeth.

She had to be alive. That night… She had stood. She had killed Matthew.

She had saved him.

She had to be alive.

"She's alive!" he suddenly shouted, the pale and nude colorless walls of the infirmary starting to blur. "She has to be! She has to be alive! I saw her! I saw her with my own eyes! She saved me! She killed Matthew! She just has to be-" his heart was beating rapidly, his shouts cutting through the stillness of the room. He felt the tears fight, as he resisted with all his might not to let them escape. He could feel the feverish pain and hurt start to build up inside him again, as his breaths were tight and ragged. "She's alive," he said, as if pleading. "She has to be. I saw her. She saved me. She saved me."

"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said sadly, his tone serious. "We…" he paused, as if trying to find his words. "We are not sure if Ms. Granger's condition can be fixed-"

"But she's not dead!" Harry shouted again, his hands clenching in tight handfuls of the chilly blanket. The world seemed to be spinning faster and faster, making him feel sick and dizzy inside. "She can't be! She just can't-"

"Mr. Potter!" Dumbledore's voice suddenly rose. Harry halted, looking at him with angry and hurt eyes. Dumbledore was obviously also upset, his lips pressed into a stern line. His once dancing blue eyes were now dark, with no sparkle or gleam existent. Harry stayed silent, breathing hard, trying to keep in his sobs and tears. "We are not sure if Ms. Granger's condition can be fixed," he repeated, his voice firm and strong. "We understand and know that she had been hit with the Avada Kedavra curse, and you know very well that there is no cure for it, known to us or in fact, any being in the world. But… an odd occurrence has happened. She is not dead, Mr. Potter," he said. His voice softened to a whisper, as Harry could feel his blood running rapidly.

"But she is dying, Harry."

Harry clenched his fists tighter, looking down. He was shaking.

"No," he choked out. "No. There has to be some way. She can't-she just can't be-"

"Harry, we understand that you and-"

"No!" Harry suddenly shouted. "No! You don't understand! You don't understand at all! She can't be dying! She can't! She saved me!"

"Please, calm down," Madam Pomfrey interrupted, her face also full with sorrow. "Please, Mr. Potter-"

"No!" Harry yelled again. He looked at his hands. The bandages were new and clean. His eyes were burning. He lowered his head and leaned it on his palms. "No," he whispered. "No, this can't be happening. Not Hermione. She can't be dying. I saw her. I saw her. Hermione can't be dying."

There was that same haunting silence, as he overheard Dumbledore speak softly to Madam Pomfrey.

"Poppy, leave us, please," he heard Dumbledore say quietly.

"Surely, Albus." She did not make a fuss or any objections though she usually would, as Harry heard her faint footsteps through his clawing, screaming thoughts and heavy breaths. He could feel him watching him. He could feel the tears resist and fight to trickle out, but he did not let them.

She could not be so near to death. She just couldn't be.

Harry looked up. He felt the cold air stick and bite his skin, still trembling.

"I want to see her," Harry said shakily, his voice still slightly hoarse. "I have to see Hermione." Dumbledore nodded, as Harry shifted the blankets off of his body and legs. He stood and walked over to where Dumbledore had begun to walk to.

Harry could feel his heart come to a dead stop as he saw the bed before him.

There she was.

Her face was pale, as pale as he had remembered from the night before. Her brown curls were spread out on the snow-white pillow laid underneath her head. Her eyes were closed, her lips the lightest and softest pink he had ever seen. She was still wearing her scarlet robes from the ball. They were dry, and had been mended, he knew, because he remembered they had been torn, and they still managed to shimmer in the little light and gloom.

Harry took a quivering breath as he walked to her.

He observed her, her body unmoving and still. Her face seemed peaceful, as if all she had fallen into was a restful slumber. Harry let out a shaky sigh, as he reached for her hand. He clasped his hand on hers, and entwined his fingers. He held on firmly.

"She's cold," Harry whispered, sadly. He could feel that same monster, fear and the thought of losing her, start to eat him whole, rapidly but in slow motion. He could feel the tears he had fought so hard to keep back just moments ago, start to fight again.

He took more breaths, short and rigid.

"Hermione?" he whispered to her, his green eyes filled with so much agony and fear, sadness and anger. "Can you hear me?"

It was as if he expected her to just open her eyes and smile at him. To make the frosty bitterness of this room melt away with just her smile and warm brown eyes.

He held onto her hand, as if pleading for her to take some of his warmth, some of his life.

She never opened her eyes, as he waited.

She never awakened and smiled up at him and made his all his pain fade away.

He closed his eyes tightly, as he fell to his knees. He kept his hand wrapped tightly around hers, as he finally felt the tears start to dominate. He could still smell her, still see her smile.

But it was not the real thing.

He was never going to see her smile ever again.

Suddenly, he felt something dart through him. Like realization and shock, combined and colliding together. A picture played before his eyes.

"Wait," he suddenly said, as he raised his head. He looked up to see Dumbledore halt in his steps, as he was just about to leave him alone with Hermione. He turned around slowly and looked at Harry. His features were soft, his eyes filled with an honest apology. "Wait," Harry said again.

His realization sparked something inside him, as his green eyes were ablaze with questions and determination.

"I think you deserve an explanation, Harry," Dumbledore said quietly. "I am deeply and very sorry for the circumstances, and so I will start from the beginning-"

"No," Harry said harshly. "You don't need to. I heard it all from Matthew. He explained everything. You don't need to explain."

Dumbledore sighed inaudibly. "Very well, then. I'm sorry," he said slowly, "that you had to hear it from him. I truly am. But I must tell you something, Mr. Potter." He began walking towards him unhurriedly.

"A wand," he said quietly, " was found when we discovered you and Ms. Granger, outside," he stopped as he was just inches away from Harry. Harry looked up at him, as he got up on his feet, still holding her hand. "It was only after it all had happened that I was struck with the ambiance of dark magic. Right away, it was clear to me that someone had put up some sort of shield, or barricade that kept it all inside, until it was deactivated, or that person was, in fact, dead. I knew that the vibe of so much dark magic and spells could not all have struck me so harshly at that only and one moment. The members of the Order had sensed it too, and we all rushed outside, the sense so strong that we could pinpoint the exact location. That was when we found you and Ms. Granger. And, Matthew," his eyes dimmed noticeably as he mentioned his name. "We knew he was dead. We all knew the outcomes and affects of the Avada Kedavra curse." Dumbledore halted, as he motioned for Harry to take a seat. Harry sighed inwardly, as he looked towards Hermione, tightening his grip one last time, before letting go and sitting down. Dumbledore sat down beside him.

"Please accept my deepest apologies, Harry," he said, looking at Hermione. " I am truly, deeply sorry and ashamed, to have been so foolish to let him in Hogwarts, let alone in the Order. I," he sighed, "find that it was also my fault that he became such a convincing and deceiving Death Eater. We hadn't been paying attention to the changes. I had my suspicions, of course… But I never acted upon it. I believed too much in him. I am very sorry. And because of my foolishness… Ms. Granger is hanging onto life with barely a thread." Harry looked away, hurt, as he stared at Hermione.

"He didn't start out that way," Harry said quietly but with a hint of bitterness, "so evil. No one is born that way. He only felt it build and he didn't fight it. He was a Death Eater. He went to the raids and the killings. He murdered. It wasn't clear to him that he was not allowed to enjoy it, to adapt and welcome it." He turned back to Dumbledore, his green eyes icy. "You never told him. You never made it clear. You thought he was smart enough."

"You said that he had had some difficulties getting into Hogwarts," he said. "And now I know why. It was because of his mark… Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell me that he was a Death Eater?"

Dumbledore sighed. "We all figured that it would be best for yours and Matthew's safety. I am also deeply sorry for this. I regret my actions. We thought that if Voldemort had somehow-"

"Matthew was a spy. He betrays and tells the enemy's plans," Harry said, callously. "To the Death Eaters, we are the enemies. Muggleborns, muggles. One who snitches to you will snitch about you." He could feel his anger turn bitter and cold towards his Headmaster. Harry knew it was wrong, but he could not help it.

She was dying.

Because he had let a Death Eater into Hogwarts and did not keep better watch.

"The wand," Harry continued on, ignoring his last harsh remark. "Who's was it? Was it hers?"

"No," Dumbledore shook his head, still calm and unbruised by Harry's words. "I'm afraid it wasn't. I think that if it was, then things would've been a lot easier, for the both of you." Dumbledore stood, as he walked over to the small table next to Hermione. He picked something off of it, as he turned and showed it to Harry. He held out his outstretched his arm, offering it to him. "I believe that Ms. Granger's wand had been in Matthew's pocket, as people from the Ministry had stopped by last night to capture his body. They searched through his things, his robes. They found her wand, but it was broken in half. It was useless, and I knew it would no longer serve a purpose," he paused, "for anyone."

"I believe," he said, "that it is yours." Harry, puzzled, took it from him. It was familiar, the right length. It was his. But he looked up at his Headmaster, confused.

How did Hermione get his wand?

Suddenly, he remembered. When Matthew had disarmed him, the wand had been thrown behind Matthew. He knew that Matthew had to have done that on purpose to keep him from getting it. Hermione's body had been lying behind him, so it must've landed right near her.

Finally understanding, Harry thanked his Headmaster quietly and put away his wand.

"There was something," he said, interrupting the silence that had started to blanket the bleak room. There were too many questions running through his mind to have time for silence. "Something odd… but it happened. I'm positive. Out there, during the ball… when Matthew was about to kill me…" Harry faltered, unsure how to explain it. "Someone performed the Avada Kedavra on him," he said slowly. "It wasn't me. He had disarmed me. But when I looked up… it was Hermione," his voice got quieter. "I know it was her. I know it was Hermione. She-" Just then, Dumbledore interrupted him.

"Harry, I'm sorry to say that that is quite impossible," Dumbledore said quietly. "The spell had already been performed on her before Matthew died. The healers had looked onto her body and we had tested the wands for any past use of the dark curses, and we found it in yours. Her wand was broken long before her supposed death. I'm afraid, Mr. Potter, that-"

"But Matthew had disarmed me," Harry cut him off, as he stood up from his seat. "He had disarmed me, and my wand had flown behind him, where her body was, which I'm positive he had done so that I could not possibly reach it. She picked up my wand, and used it. She had used it. She was the one who had killed him."

"Harry," Dumbledore said, concerned. "The healers had arrived not a moment after we called them. They said it was not possible at all for her to have moved or even take a breath after the curse, let alone stand up and gather the energy to perform the Avada Kedavra. Her blood," he said firmly, "was frozen, Harry. Her life was taken out of her, and not a drop of energy was left to spare. It is not possible that she could have done it. It was not even possible that she could live-"

"But she is!" Harry shouted defiantly, "She is still alive!"

"Barely," Dumbledore said, in a loud and frustrated sigh. "It is not enough, not nearly enough," he said lowly, as if trying to scare Harry out of his denial. "It will not get her through the week. Her blood is still and frozen cold. It is a miracle, a phenomenon that no one, not even the healers, could explain. Her heart, Harry, is cold and frosted. But somehow, some way, it continues to function and beat. And somehow, everyone furrows their eyebrows and wonders in awe about, she is still alive. But only barely. She cannot make it through our days, Harry. They are far too long. They expect her heart to slowly weaken and finally die by the moon rising of this day. You must understand. You must get through this. I know that you were indeed very close to her, but-"

"But it was her!" he yelled. "She wasn't dead! She had enacted the spell!"

"But, Mr. Potter, one has to wonder, if in fact that what you are saying is true, how Ms. Granger preformed the spell. The curse is very complex and advanced, and it takes very much energy. You are the only student your age we had taught it to for it was only too necessary. I do not think-"

"You said yourself that she was the brightest and smartest Witch to enter Hogwarts in our age," Harry said bitterly, his anger getting the best of him "Hermione can do anything. And it's possible that Remus could have taught her. I saw them. He was training her. She's smart enough to know how it works and perform it correctly-"

"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said firmly. "Remus would have asked for my permission first and consulted me on such manners. He knows himself that he cannot-"

"But does that matter?" Harry shouted. "Does that really matter? I'm alive, because someone saved me! I didn't save myself! Matthew had done the bloody Cruciatus curse on me twice! Do you think I could have done the spell when I had been tortured and so weak?" he let out a deep sigh, as he looked at him with pleading eyes. "Please, try to understand, Headmaster… I know what I saw. I'm telling the truth. I saw her. She had done it. She can't-there has to be something--"

Just then, his gaze darted over to Hermione, rapidly. He bolted from his place, halting in mid-sentence, as he walked over to her.

He looked down on her, and his eyes did not deceive him.

Her necklace. It was still crimson. The red essence inside was still swirling and stirring slowly but restlessly, just as he had remembered.

"Her necklace," Harry whispered. "Her necklace." He grabbed his wand quickly and said a spell. The necklace swiftly unclasped from around her neck and landed on his palm. He turned to Dumbledore, still looking at the pendant. He walked closer to him, his memories vivid and the scenes playing before his eyes, once more.

"At the ball, when we danced, I'm certain that it was black, the pendant," he said, pointing at it. "But now it's-" Harry dropped it into Dumbledore's hands, insisting for him to take a closer look. Dumbledore looked at it, observing it closely. "--It's red," Harry breathed. "I remember that it wasn't like that at all when I ran after her outside. It was only… after she had collapsed and killed Matthew, and I went over to her… It was just like that. I can't explain it," Harry said quickly, "but I think it did something. Like it interfered with the spell. You said that an odd occurrence had happened, because she isn't dead, and you said yourself that there was no counter curse for the Avada Kedavra, but… This isn't a counter curse at all. It's, some sort of necklace, an amulet." Dumbledore looked up at him with worry and sadness in his eyes.

"Harry, forgive me, but there are many enchanted necklaces and jewelry ornaments out there. I find it hard to believe that this mere necklace could have saved Ms. Granger from the curse, let alone have something to do with what had happened."

Just then, something caught Harry's eye. He snatched it from Dumbledore without a word, as he turned the pendant over. His heart raced at his discovery.

He looked at it closely, and there, engraved on the clean, silver back of the pendant, were some sort of strange and unfamiliar marks and dashes. It circled the edge of the pendant, going around so that he had to turn it to try to recognize it.

" An inscription," he said, turning it and squinting his eyes. "It has to be. It's some sort of language… I can't read it." He looked up at Dumbledore, whose eyes were twinkling with curiosity. Harry handed it to him. "Turn it around. There," he pointed, "the engravings. They're… I haven't seen anything like it at all."

Dumbledore's eyes widened, as his lips were pursed into a tight line. He looked up at Harry, then back at the engravings. He turned it around and around, as if reading the carvings.

He looked back up at him again, his blue eyes no longer in the shadow of sorrow as before.

"Can you read it? It's a message, it just has to be," Harry said quickly. "What does it say?"

"Harry," he said, disbelievingly and quietly, "I cannot decipher all of it. But I recognize it. It's unknown and forgotten to almost everyone, Witches and Wizards, muggles and mortals… Why, it's-"

Suddenly, a stern female voice interrupted him.

"The Amulet of Pallas Athena."

Harry's head turned in the direction of the voice, and found himself staring towards the Hospital Wing's doors. Standing in front of the closed doors was a familiar and strict looking witch, dressed in dark green robes, named Minerva McGonagall. Even Dumbledore was surprised by the sudden certainty in the answer of the voice.

"Professor," he acknowledged her. "You know about this?" She nodded, as she walked towards them, her dark hunter green robes sweeping behind her.

"More than you think, Albus," she said as she joined them. Dumbledore handed the amulet over to her, as she observed it closely. She looked up at them, her fair face showing lines of age and wisdom. "It was I who sent it to Ms. Granger for the ball."

Puzzlement and confusion filled Harry's expression. He expected Dumbledore to be as confused as he was, but was proved wrong by his remark.

"I should have known," he chuckled softly. She looked at Dumbledore, then at Harry, and then back at the necklace.

"I sent it to the house after I caught word that the battle had just ended," she said. She turned to Harry, worry and sincerity in her eyes. "My deepest apologies, Mr. Potter." Harry nodded, silent, still quite confused.

"But wait," he said, "What does the amulet do? What are the inscriptions? Why is it this color now when it was a different color back at the ball?" The Witch sighed, as she looked around hastily.

"It's best we take a seat, but we must hurry. I have reason to believe that hope still remains." Harry's heart leaped at her words, and did as she said.

They all took a seat, as the professor started to explain.

"This," she said, holding up the necklace, "is the Amulet of Pallas Athena. It is only distinguished and told apart from the other enchanted and charmed amulets and jewelry because of its rare and foreign engravings," she turned over the pendant, "a very ancient language of Greek that was never recorded in any books or parchments, or any one piece of literature that was known. It is said to hold the only tears Athena, the Greek Goddess of war and wisdom, as people say, ever shed in her life, whilst she was playing with another girl in her childhood and accidentally killed her. Pallas Athena was a strong Goddess, and her tears were the color of coal and midnight, as she was never to experience sadness or shed tears. And she never did after or before, only at that time. It was rumored that someone, a Witch, had captured her tears and put them into a pendant, making an amulet. It was legend that the amulet had extraordinary powers," she said, "but it was never proven. In fact, everyone doubted it even existed for the Witch had kept it to herself and passed it down only to her family, who was also sworn to secrecy about the amulet. Thus, it became just a mere legend."

"So, Professor… you're a descendant of the Witch who created the amulet?" Harry asked slowly, curious as to how she had gotten it if it was only passed down to the family. A rarity for Professor McGonagall, a smile spread across her stern features.

"Very smart, Mr. Potter," she said. "Very smart, indeed. I am, in fact, a descendant of the Witch who created the amulet." She went on, after the interruption, very quickly. "Of course, some of my earlier ancestors began to test it, trying to figure out what it was good for. They believed that the only tears of Pallas Athena held very powerful magic inside it, but they were not certain what. They never found out," she halted, "because the only ones who tried were the Wizards, as they only gave birth to sons. There is a rumor that one Witch tried it, long ago… But no one knows for sure if it was true that she survived. I don't quite understand myself, considering that the Greek Goddess often favored men for reason that she was bore only from Zeus, her father, without a mother."

"What happened," Harry asked, "to the Wizards who tried it? And to the Witch?"

"They all failed and died," she said, her tone still as serious. "But the Witch… They said that she was hit with an evil spell, a curse that could eat away life and energy from a single body within seconds… and leave dead. They say that she survived. But no one knows for certain." Harry nodded, her words circling and mixing inside his mind, trying to find the connection.

"But… you knew, then, the possibility that it could save someone," he said, slowly, realization just dawning on him.

A memory flashed inside his mind. That day, when Remus had been teaching Hermione outside, in the snow…

An owl had come and dropped a little black sack into her hands.

That had to have been the amulet.

"And you sent it to Hermione… Why? Why did you send it to her?" his voice got quiet, as he looked at her with disbelieving and dark sad eyes. "You knew, didn't you?" he whispered. "You knew something was going to happen to her. You knew someone was going to try to kill her." Professor McGonagall looked down, looking sorry and ashamed.

"I… I was not certain, Mr. Potter," she said. "I was talking with your Professor Trelawney one day, about Ms. Granger, specifically. She had come to give me something that Ms. Granger had left in her class, before she left with you. But as she was about to hand it to me… She… she had some sort of, a premonition," she said, slowly, as if unsure. "I had a feeling, as she was talking to me… that she was not herself. Her voice and her eyes were completely different… And, she told me that there was going to be a death, an unexpected one, of the only one who held the Hero's heart so dearly. And… after, she had no recollection of what she had told me, and I did not want to take any chances. So I sent the amulet to Ms. Granger." She inhaled a sharp breath. "Of course, I was not sure if it would work… But," she looked down at the crimson amulet in her hands. "It did. It worked."

"But, Minerva, no one knows exactly what it could do," Dumbledore said. "The amulet… How can you be so sure?"

"Stories, Albus," she said. "Not all of them are completely false. Some of them have a bit of truth hidden inside them. I've heard them all. And this," she turned the pendant over, showing them the carvings on the silver, "is an ancient Greek language that only the Gods and ancient Wizards and mortal men used at that time. It's foreign to most of all the whole population now, but it's in my blood, and I was taught it since I was a girl." She traced over the engravings, "it says: Another loss and bloodshed moon, crimson is the tide of the wicked. Midnight shadows the tide of secret and lost. Only wickedness can trap its own dark kind inside. Crimson," she looked up at them, "conquers when all but a sliver of hope remains." There was silence, as the words rang and chimed in his head.

"So… this saved her," Harry slowly said, uncertainly. "It says that crimson conquers when all but a sliver of hope remains… So, there's a possibility that we could still save Hermione, isn't there? Because it's crimson. The amulet had been a different color before, the color of midnight, like the engravings said, because it had never been activated… it was lost and it was secret…" Professor McGonagall nodded.

"Very good, Mr. Potter, very good. But I'm afraid that you left out one very important part. Only wickedness can trap its own dark kind in," she said. "When the curse had been shot at Ms. Granger, she suffered the pain, but the amulet had eaten and captured some of the spell, therefore it was not complete. That is the reason she had not died. The amulet had opened, activated, when the curse had hit her, because the curse is made from pure evil and wickedness. The amulet was made to protect, for Pallas Athena was a great and strong Goddess, protector of the city. Crimson is the tide of the wicked, it also says, and the amulet is now crimson, because it had captured the wicked, the curse." She looked at Harry intently.

"You did, in fact, see Ms. Granger stand and perform the same curse on Matthew. The amulet is also triggered by strong emotion, something that is also vital in using the Avada Kedavra, because her heart was set on saving you. It was enough for the spell, but it was not enough to keep her blood rushing and keep her strong. The spell took a lot out of her, and mixed with the affects of the spell that the amulet had not captured, it is indeed fatal. That," she said, looking over at their Headmaster Dumbledore, "is the reason of the odd state she is in. The Healers know no such thing when it comes to these cases."

A wide smile spread across Dumbledore's features. He clapped his hands, his eyes twinkling only faintly, like a mirage of what had been there in their simpler days before.

"Brilliant, Minerva! I am thoroughly mistaken," he said. "Brilliant, indeed. Though, you did not tell me you knew about these sort of cases, and about Matthew."

"Headmaster, I am a teacher. I protect the lives of my students. I have to know what is happening when they are here, and even when they are away." Dumbledore smiled, as he chuckled.

"But, " Harry started again, insistent, determination and anxiousness shadowing over his curiosity. "How are we to save Hermione? The amulet is useless now, isn't it? It did what it's supposed to do, but that doesn't change her situation. How are we going to save her?"

"We can try, Mr. Potter," Professor McGongall said quietly. Harry felt his heart fall.

"You're saying, there's no definite way we could save her?" he asked softly, the fact that he felt he was being let down, evident in his voice.

"There is no definite way, I am sorry, Mr. Potter. There is no guarantee. I'm sure you know that. I do not want to spark false hope inside you, for false hope, in the end, will swallow you whole. When dealing with the Cruciatus curse, there is never an absolute solution. But… I have a theory, a presumption, if you will, that we can pray will work." They stayed silent, prompting for her to continue. Harry's heart seemed to be pounding at a rapid speed, awaiting for her attempt of a solution.

"Asclepius was the Great Healer in Athena's time," she started, as she began to inform them. "Athena had the blood of Medusa 1, which she offered to him. He used the blood that flowed on the left side for the bane of mortal and men, and the blood that flowed from the right side for deliverance. And from that, people say that he was capable of raising the dead." She paused her words at Harry's wide eyes, as she slipped her hand inside the pocket of her robe and pulled out a shiny silver chain necklace. He furrowed his eyebrows, but as she raised it in her hand, showing it to them, he saw an odd-looking locket or ornament attached to it. He looked closer, and then looked up at her as she was smiling at him.

It was a small vial, the pendant. The vial was just about he size of his thumb. It was ancient looking, but the glass vial was new looking and gleamed even in the little light in the infirmary. There was a silvery substance that swirled inside the vial, tinted a very faint blue.

"This," she smiled, "is the blood. Legend says that it could raise the dead."

"But, if it could, how did you get such a thing?" Harry asked in awe, curious, but not able to hide the big grin forming on his face. "Surely, it is valuable and prized, and most sought out for."

They were going to save her.

The smile on the Professor's face faded quickly, as she looked at the vial dangling from the silver necklace.

"There used to be a lot more, Mr. Potter," she said, "of the blood. Because Wizards found out about it and found a way to duplicate it, long ago. They had all heard the legend," she looked at him sadly. "They tried it, numerous times. Too numerous to ever count. But they never succeeded." Harry's grin froze, as his eyes darkened. His hope that had been a roaring fire earlier, had shrunk back into the same feeble, flickering little flame. "All their subjects, the people they had tried to save… died. They had failed. It had no affect."

Harry's mouth had gone dry, the silence bitter in the room. He looked down at his hands covered with pure and clean bandages, disappointment tightening its smoldering hands around his throat.

"But, Mr. Potter," she said, trying to make him raise his gaze, "they were never sure if they were using it correctly. Each time, they used a different method. They even started to doubt it was real, the legend. But I happen to have a theory," she said, "that I've analyzed over and over again. I cannot explain it thoroughly to try to make you understand how I came up with this, but I think, if it works, there will be no explanation needed at all." There was silence as Harry raised his gaze sadly but a glimmer of hope faint in his eyes.

Professor McGonagall was holding up the amulet. She was smiling at him faintly.

"They did not succeed," she said quietly, "because they were missing this. The Amulet of Pallas Athena. It would take me ages to explain why or how, but I think that somehow, the blood and the tears are connected. I think that if we somehow break the amulet and get the tears out, mix it into the blood and have Ms. Granger drink it… It wouldn't be such a surprise if she wakes up… and finds all of us here, awaiting for her to come back to the world." The grin found its way back onto Harry's face again, as he felt his heart leaping. He could feel his pulse pounding in his wrists.

"Thank you, Professor," he said quietly. "You don't know how much I'm grateful to you." Professor McGonagall smiled sincerely at him. He turned to Dumbledore, who was also smiling faintly.

"Well, Harry, I am deeply mistaken, and am not ashamed to say that I stand corrected. I, am also in great gratitude for Professor McGonagall," he bowed his head slightly at Professor McGonagall as she smiled and returned the action. "Please, again, forgive me and accept my deepest apologies. I'm afraid, after these past few hours or days, I have started to lose faith." Harry offered him a smile.

"Nobody's perfect, Professor," he said, weakly. "No harm done."

"Alright then," he heard a stern female voice say. "We must hurry. If the protection and unbreakable spell on the amulet is as strong and stubborn as they say, we have much, much work to do."

Harry stood, determined to get to work, for the first time in his life.

Suddenly, they heard a raucous as the Hospital Wing's doors burst open. They all turned their heads, alarmed from the sudden noise, and Harry saw who stood before them, red-faced and flustered.

He was still in his dress robes from the night before, though they were now wrinkled and disoriented, his red hair sticking up in all directions.

"Ron," Harry said. "You're just in time. We were just about to do something. You don't mind helping, do you? I think we're going to need it." Confused and angry, Ron turned to Harry. His face was flushing a deep red that he had never seen before.

"Wh-What?" he asked, not sure if he had heard his friend right or whether to be confused or angry. "Harry! You're-you're… what happened? They didn't let me visit you last night, and then I heard that you've been attacked by a Death Eater, and then I saw Hermione being brought in with about ten healers from St. Mungo's… What's going on?" he asked, breathless. "What happened? What happened, Harry? No one would let me in here last night, and they forced all the students to go back to their houses. And-and all I heard were rumors!" Ron said quickly, sputtering, as he strode over to him. "Harry, they said you were dead! They said that Matthew had-"

"Ron, Ron," Harry said, trying to calm down the frantic Ron.

"-Tried to kill you, and then Hermione had--" he stopped abruptly at his words, as he looked at Harry. Ron seemed to be searching his face, Harry's gaze. Harry looked at him weakly, too worn out to bother to hide anything from his expression or eyes.

Ron's face suddenly turned ashen, his eyes widening. He looked at Harry, then at the Professors, and then around the room. His eyes came to a dead stop, as Harry sighed inwardly and closed his eyes, for he knew exactly where his gaze was pointed.

"Ron," Harry whispered. "Ron, listen to me-"

"Hermione?" he said, his voice lowering down into a whisper, as he walked over to her. Harry opened his eyes, his gaze following his friend as he neared Hermione. Ron was quiet as he observed her, and Harry could feel the tense silence in the room.

"Hermione," he said shakily. Harry watched as Ron touched her hand. Ron turned to him with wide, fearful eyes. "She's cold, Harry," he said in a trembling whisper. Just then, he started to back away from her.

"Oh Merlin…" Harry heard Ron whisper fearfully. "Oh Merlin… Don't… Hermione's not… She's not…"

"Ron," Harry said. "She's not dead. Not yet. But Ron, she could be. You have to help us so that we can save her." Ron froze, as he slowly turned around.

His blue eyes were still scared, as he took a deep sigh.

"Al-alright," he said, almost as quiet as a whisper. "I'll help you. Whatever you need me to do, I'll be here."

Harry nodded, smiling faintly and appreciatively at his friend, trying to assure him. "Alright then. I'll explain things later, don't worry."

ooooooooooooooo

There were big ancient textbooks laid on the beds, and stacks and piles on the floor. Harry had his wand out, flipping over the aged and thin pages of a book that Dumbledore had stored in his office.

Ron was beside him, wand also in hand, looking over another book. Harry could hear him as he muttered a spell, pointing at the amulet. Harry looked over, as the amulet did nothing. Ron cleared his throat and tried again, this time his voice much clearer and louder.

Nothing happened to the amulet.

Harry heard the disappointment in his friend's deep sigh, as he continued to flip through the pages. They had been silent, not speaking or uttering a word, since he had explained to him what had happened a while before, during their search through the first ten books.

Harry was weary, rubbing his eyes after every ten minutes or so, but never willing to stop and rest. They had limited time, and he was fighting to find the spell before the moon rose. So far, the books he had looked over had spells, unlocking spells, but none of them worked. It seemed as they got further and further, the unlocking or protection breaking spells they came across became less and less.

He was getting frustrated, and he knew that that Ron was getting weary too. Harry felt as if he didn't know exactly what he was looking for, that there was something very big that he was missing… something that could help them…

But he didn't know what.

He urged his eyes and mind to work faster, but at the same time, was afraid of missing any important spells. He tried to steady himself at a pace that he was sure not to miss anything, but go rapidly, at the same time.

His mind was set on Hermione, as he looked up and let his eyes travel over to where she lay, motionless and peaceful.

He didn't know why. Maybe it was as if he expected to suddenly see her sitting up, smiling at him.

He squinted his eyes, feeling his heart call out for her. His mind was in a misty haze, a sort of blinding and enveloping, pleasant fog.

She was still, frozen. Paralyzed. Her eyes were closed. She was not sitting up, or smiling at him.

Harry closed his eyes, feeling his world tilt and his eyes ache with a dry harshness.

They stung with a familiarity that he recognized all too well.

When he closed his eyes it was so easy to get lost. It was too easy to get lost in his memories, as managed to slip out and played before his eyes, triggering emotions to flare up and ember inside of him. He continued to see her.

Smiling sweetly, happiness gleaming in her deep brown eyes. The glorious sunbeams peeking from behind her and making her seem so heavenly, like an angel.

He shook his head gently, running a hand through his untamed hair. He tried to shake the thoughts away, for he knew if he lingered on them too long he would get far too distracted and the sharp hint of tears would catch on.

He had to keep focused, stay on task.

He had a feeling; one that he kept buried inside for reason that he knew it was best, that this was a waste. Looking through ancient textbooks and reading, scanning through all the spells. There had to be something better, something more… useful. Something that he could be doing and knowing at the same time that he was getting closer and closer to getting Hermione back.

But he didn't know what that something was.

And he didn't have any other plan.

He didn't know what else to do.

Though he wanted to scream out in frustration and just start to hammer the amulet into pieces, he thought of Hermione again.

He had to do this. He had to keep his composure, he had to keep looking.

Though it seemed useless, he knew it could only help.

That was what he tried to tell himself.

He blinked forcefully, pressing his eyelids down hard as he opened them again. He sighed silently and turned back to the books.

Professor McGonagall was also in the room, looking over the books faster than both he and Ron's speed combined. One of the spells she had tried almost worked, but it was not strong enough, and only managed to make the amulet glow for a moment. That was the closest they had gotten to getting the unbreakable charms and protection spells off of the amulet.

Dumbledore was taking care of the Ministry and trying to prevent the media from finding out, or if it was already too late, prevent them form spreading any lies or false stories about the happenings. He had also said that he was going to try to talk to some friends through fire-talking, for he said he had some acquaintances and friends who were quite good with, and knowing about protection and unbreakable spells.

Harry finished off another book, dropped it into a pile on the floor, and then picked up another fairly thick and old book from the stack. He glanced at Ron, who hadn't spoken to him ever since he had confessed to him what had happened. Harry didn't know if Ron was angry with him, or if he was upset, but Ron hadn't said anything at all when he had finished. He had no questions, no comments. He had just stayed quiet, giving Harry a fearful and sorry look from his blue eyes.

He had nothing to say about it. The happenings, Matthew. He did not say I told you so, or even slightly hint it.

Ron understood that there was nothing he could do about it now.

Harry had apologized, for not telling him sooner about Matthew, and Hermione's visions. It hurt to think that if he had paid more attention, if he had told Ron… something could've been done to prevent what had happened. He could feel that same biting fear and guilt, sinking its teeth into him, as he thought about what he could have done to save her.

But he didn't.

He didn't save her.

She had saved him.

And now he was trying, he was trying. He was not going to let her lose her life for him. He knew that he could never live on that way without her.

His eyes rapidly skimmed the contents of the page, his fingers buzzing, as his gaze transferred to the next. Just then, he heard the doors open and he looked up.

A weary looking Dumbledore stood in front of the doors, as he saw Minerva McGonagall stand up expectedly.

"Any news, Albus?" she asked. Harry's heart fell deeper into the vacant pit of his stomach, as Dumbledore looked at them with sad eyes.

"The media can be contained from making any lies or rubbish of the sort at the moment, but the Ministry is furious and demanding more information. Remus and the other members of the Order are over there, trying to straighten things out before they can muster a riot." He paused, as if trying to brace them all for the bad news. "I'm afraid… as though my dear friends know a large amount about protection and unbreakable spells, they do not have the answer to our search. The amulet still remains a mystery to them," he sighed. "But, I did get this. One of my sources, Maria Demetrias, says that there is hope. A spell placed on an object can always be broken or unlocked. Especially," he said, "if it is meant to be opened." He walked towards them, looking over the books and the amulet and vial. "My dear friend was clever enough to state that the amulet was meant to be opened, because of its purpose. And that there is a spell powerful enough that can unlock it. Though…" he looked up at Harry. "She also spoke to me that if we were to search, we had to consider all of the relating possibilities."

Harry looked at him quizzically, while he could hear Ron sigh beside him.

"Why is it that every time we desperately need something, someone has to speak in riddles?" Harry heard him mutter, as he continued to flip through the book. Harry ignored him, trying to think harder in his mind and dig deeper.

Dumbledore's words had triggered something… But he could not figure out just what. He could feel it, in the back of his mind, squirming and trying to make its way.

"Consider all of the relating possibilities…" Harry whispered to himself. His eyes widened at the idea and realization that had just darted through him.

"That's it!" Harry exclaimed, making everyone in the room look over at him in curiosity and surprise.

"What is it, Harry?" Ron asked, quickly. Professor McGonagall was looking at him from her glasses. "What's it?"

"Mr. Potter?" she asked, peering at him from her half-moon spectacles.

Harry's heart was beating faster, as it all added up in his head.

"We've all been looking in all the books that had the counter spells and charms of protection and unbreakable spells. Just those books," he said hurriedly. "It has everything, the spells to undo the charms, but never one has worked for the amulet, because if the amulet is ancient as you say it is, those spells could not possibly rival it. We need…" Harry faltered, thinking, "…books, more books. Not just about spells. Maybe about Greek mythology, or the time period that the amulet was created. I'm sure we're to find something there, if nothing else has worked out." A smile spread across Dumbledore's and Professor McGonagall's faces. Ron was also grinning at him.

"Good job, mate," Ron smiled, patting him on the back. "What a Hero."

oooooooooooooooooo

Important Author's Note: (PLEASE READ BEFORE YOU REVIEW)

This is just one of the last chapters. This isn't the last chapter yet. Please, please review! I really want to know what you think about the chapter/story so far. Thanks to all the loyal reviewers-I love you. The next chapter won't be up for quite a while.

Oh, and this chapter involved some Greek mythology stuff… Please do not flame me because my facts about it are wrong, because while I am deeply interested in Greek Mythology, I don't research it quite enough, and the information I get might be false in one way or another. I'm really, really sorry if the things about Pallas Athena and the other Greek Gods are incorrect, but you have to keep in mind that I made some stuff up, for the benefit of this fic. After all, this fic is fictional.

Dumbledore was out of character in this chapter: that is very clear to me. He is a bit frustrated and he argues with Harry because of the necklace. So I am also sorry if you are disturbed by Dumbledore or Prof. McGonagall in this story because they are out of character. This is a different side of Dumbledore that I'm afraid no one I've come across has written about before, and that is understandable, but people have the misconception that Dumbledore is flawless and reasonable and trusting all of the time. Dumbledore is only human and he makes mistakes just like the rest of us; he can give up hope and get frustrated. Another thing; he is getting quite of an old age, after all. He has trouble believing Harry because, well, he thinks Harry might just be in denial and tired-Harry's been through an awful lot, I wouldn't blame him if he didn't think straight-and he doesn't want to believe that Hermione might be dead. So please, do not flame me because of those terms; I am already well aware of it.

This chapter… I'm not very proud of it, but it's supposed to explain everything about the amulet. I know most of the reviewers were confused and asked me in their reviews to try to make the thing about the amulet clearer, and say again if I had mentioned it before. I did-it says in this chapter that the amulet was in the black sack that Hermione received from an owl during her training with Remus.

So, I will have to say again that the next chapters will not be up for a while. Reason for that is because I am suffering from a very bad case of writer's block and I have to leave the country to visit a relative for a week, which means I have to pack and get everything ready. I'm leaving by the end of this week, so I have to rush everything. Everything's been so hectic. My apologies if you felt this chapter was not very productive or… a smooth reading, I guess. I felt that it was rubbish, myself. But I would still very much appreciate it if you reviewed; please don't be too brutally honest, though.

Tip: I suggest you should put this story on your chapter alerts (I read the Portkey news) or if you want, you could just put your email address in the text of your review and I could send you an email when I update. Thanks very much and have a jolly day.

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