~~ 13 ~~
One Last Stand
Part 2
We begin to tear away through the woods, moving at a much faster pace and using the light of the flames to see. After a while, though, the light fades away into blackness once more, and we are forced to slow down. I decide to risk lighting my wand and pray that if any Death Eater spots it, they'll assume it's another of their own. It's just too slow of progress, inching along in the dark.
Once we've run until we cannot take another step, I agree to let us stop for a minute. My throat is raw and parched from the chill of the air, and I am trembling from the cold. I put my hand over the tip of my wand in an effort to keep us hidden during our momentary break.
"What are we doing?" Hermione asks. "Where are we going?"
"Anywhere, just away from there," I reply.
"Shouldn't we call for the others, though?" she persists. "The owl call, remember? It won't do us any good to be separated from everyone."
I realize she's right. I had forgotten that signal entirely until she'd reminded me. I nod, though I know she cannot see me, and try to muster up enough air to make an owl hoot that sounds half decent. I do it three times, and wait. Of course, there is no answer. Who knows where everyone is? They're all in groups hiding, probably more to our east, more toward the direction of where the Death Eaters are looking.
"Let's keep going," I command. "We're going east."
"That's toward them, though," Ron argues.
"I know," I respond. "But that's where the others are likely hiding. We need to get everyone together before we can make a move."
I know I am taking a risk, leading my friends back nearer the Death Eaters, but for the life of me, I cannot see what other options I have to choose from. Abandon the others and run off on our own, or risk our lives to find them. Yeah. Big choice.
So I begin our treacherous trek eastward, plunging through the many feet of snow, Ron and Hermione following in my wake. As I walk, keeping my wand's light dimmed by my jacket's fabric, I wonder about Ron and Hermione's take on all this. Not just my decision to move us east, but everything that's happened in . . . how many days has it been? Or is it years? It sure feels like the latter. I know Ron is beginning to come to terms with just how unlikely our survival is, and I can sense that his silence now is similar to mine during the hours back in Diagon Alley. It makes me edgy, having him in such a state and knowing that our lives depend on us working as a team. I've been through what he's going through now, and I know that during those hours of silence, I would not have wanted someone putting their life on my shoulders. It's still a shock to me. But at least I had a few hours to just sit and think and come to terms with it. Ron is being forced to accept it on the run.
In Hermione's case, I have no idea of her emotions. It worries me in a way. We've shared so much recently, taken so many risks, and still made it out alive, that maybe I'm getting used to having that unity. Amazing how two years of solitude and of needing no one can change so entirely in a few days of having a friend by your side.
I am tense, prepared for an ambush or sudden encounter with the Death Eaters, but never does the silence or stillness of our surroundings break. A nagging and discomforting fear is gnawing at the back of my mind relentlessly, increasing in its intensity with every step I take: It's too quiet and too still. Don't get me wrong, I have no desire to run into Voldemort or his minions, but now I find myself thinking that perhaps I'd be relieved if that did occur. It's scary to have your enemy in your sights, but it's a lot scarier when you have no idea where they are or what they're doing. That's when you really need to worry.
The only real sound I hear-besides the ones we are making ourselves-is the distant crackling of the blaze that is consuming our home. My nerves are steeled and my desire to destroy Voldemort is sealed by bitterness at this thought. I've put up with a lot-I've had to to survive. But there are some things I do not forgive, and with the combination of the things he's done to Hermione, my parents, Hogwarts, my friends, and now our home has put me so far past the point of forgiveness that I couldn't see it on a distant horizon with a pair of binoculars.
Though I've been giving the owl call periodically, I've yet to get any answer. This is another way in which the silence disturbs me. Could the Death Eaters have perhaps gotten them, and left? Is that why everything has gone so still?
I stop and hoot again, louder than I've dared to so far. All I want is some confirmation that my friends aren't dead or captured. I beg desperately for it, and for once, my prayer is answered in the form of two distant, but distinctly unnatural hoots.
I run forward in the direction that I thought I'd heard the response, Ron and Hermione following me. I hoot three times again, and this time the reply is much closer.
I hear Ron growl vaguely behind me. "Oh, enough of this bloody owl calling! Who's there and where are you?"
"Over here, little brother!" comes a soft voice to my left. I aim my dim wand light at a bush about fifteen feet in that direction where Fred or George or both are hiding.
We trudge through the snow, my feeling of relief washing over me like clean water when you're covered in crusted mud. When we reach the bush, we see Fred, George, and Ginny all crouched behind it. Ginny stands and runs to hug Ron immediately.
He embraces his little sister with a lot more feeling than usual, I observe. Apparently my worries for our survival and theirs were not lost on him, either.
"I'm all right, Ginny," he assures her quietly. "You?"
"I am now," she says, relief clear in her voice.
"Yeah, good to see you all again," Fred agrees, and I can see in his eyes as he looks at me that he'd not been holding out much hope for our survival.
I don't waste time with the greetings. "Where's Dumbledore?" I ask. "We need to get everyone together, and without him, that's hopeless."
George looks at me. "Everyone's hidden around here; there's a good bet he is, too. But I've got to tell you, Harry, finding everyone doesn't bother me as much as the silence does."
So it isn't just me whose noticed. "I know," I agree. I do not elaborate. Stating my fears will do no more than scare us all more. But whether I say it aloud or not, I do believe deep in my heart that something is wrong. I don't know what, or why Voldemort is holding back, but we should have run into, or seen, or heard some Death Eaters by now. And yet there is nothing. More is going on than meets the eye. We should feel on top in a way; we've evaded them, and we're gathering. We've survived. But that's what they want us to feel. They want us to think we're on top of the game, and then they'll surprise us.
With our group expanded from three to six, we set out again, cautiously, not that I see the point in that anymore. I have a horrible, sinking feeling that we're being quiet and wary for nothing. That Voldemort knows exactly where we are and is simply biding his time, waiting for some moment which he'll at last deem correct. We're like ants under the glare of the sun through a magnifying glass. We run about, trying to maintain order and get out, all the while some kid is watching it, controlling everything, waiting until he tires of our running and decides to finally get the frying started. As we play the parts of the ants, Voldemort stands above, clutching that blasted magnifying glass and waiting for the sun to rise so that the death can start.
It takes a little over twenty minutes-more than enough time to confirm my fears with not so much as a distant voice from a Death Eater-to round up everyone. As Fred and George had said, everyone was hidden relatively close to one another. Dumbledore, Sirius, and Lupin were the last ones we found. We'd found Moody hiding with Katie and Angelina right before.
Now we are huddled in a circle, deep in the trees, my wand giving us the light we need. All of us are shivering from the cold. The blizzard has, thankfully, lessened to a simple, silent falling of snow. Dumbledore stands directly across from me, Sirius and Lupin at his sides. Hermione is pressed close against me, attempting to find some warmth in this world of bitter chill. Cautiously, still remembering her reaction when I'd kissed her-something I'm beginning to think I'm never going to get a chance to really talk with her about-I put my arm around her.
"Something's wrong about all of this," Moody is growling, his grotesque eye spinning so fast it is a blur. "I don't trust it."
"Neither do I, Alastor," Dumbledore confirms. He looks at me. "And neither does Harry."
I have not said a word about my suspicions to him, but as it often is with Dumbledore, I do not need to. He knows my emotions as well as I do, can read them from my face, my eyes, my posture when I don't even realize I'm relaying anything. Sometimes that can be a bad thing, but right now, I'm relieved that I need not take the time to explain.
"What do we do now? He's destroyed everything, we can't go back," Neville whispers, sounding as lost and frightened as a small child separated from his mother.
"Well, you know what they say," George says, trying to be funny, but his own voice can't even hold up the façade of folly. "If you can't go back, you have to go forward."
"Are we still going to try to make it to a border?" Ginny asks.
I shake my head before anyone can say anything. Dumbledore is looking to me expectantly. "No. We might have had a chance before. But we would have needed supplies. Money, food, clothes. All those things have been destroyed now. Some of us have even lost our wands in the fire. We wouldn't make it for two days as we are." I close my eyes for a moment, considering how to word my next decision so that everyone does not immediately oppose me, as I feel they most likely will. "We only have one option left, unless anyone thinks it's a good idea to sit here and freeze to death while waiting for the Death Eaters to come trooping down on us. We have to fight."
Much to my surprise, only silence resounds. No one is yelling at me, no one arguing. Just the dead, ringing silence that snow always brings when it falls, a silence that is deeper than that of any other.
"Fight . . . him?" Neville finally asks in a quaking voice.
"Yes," I say, keeping my voice firm, trying to instill some confidence in my companions.
"What do you want us to do?" Katie demands, sounding rattled. "We can't beat him. There are fourteen of us, and hundreds of Death Eaters, plus You-Know-Who himself. We don't even have fourteen wands. Harry, you're asking us to commit suicide."
The silence is deeper than ever as I realize she has spoken aloud the fact I'd been trying to keep hidden from everyone by a shield of bravado and courage. Now that it is out in the open, I can no longer deny it. "Yes," I admit. "I know. I know we can't win, I know we're outnumbered, unequipped, and unprepared. We're pathetic in comparison to them. He's going to kill us, Katie, yes. But whether we fight him or not doesn't change that. He'll kill us if we stay here, and he'll kill us if we fight him. We'll die either way. We've been avoiding death for almost two years now, and sooner or later we all had to know that death was going to outsmart us. That's finally happened, and it's all coming down to here and now. And now we have the option of going out like the cowards we've been, or fighting to our deaths, showing courage, being the Gryffindors we're alleged to be. Maybe we can cause some damage to them before they finish us off. If we can even take out one of their men we'll have done something, something more than sit here and wait for the end. Death is our only option, it's true, but rather than letting that fact weigh you down and make you feel irrelevant, I'd like to see you manipulate it, take advantage of it, let it give you the strength to rise up and do something so great that we'll be always be remembered as the group that made a difference. Let's make some use out of our last hours."
I know that if there was anyone left who hasn't yet begun to get very in touch with their mortality, I've just made them join the rest of us who have. Dumbledore is watching me, and I swear that I have never seen him look older.
Finally, after such a long silence that I fear I've put them to sleep, Ron pipes up from beside me, "So what's the plan?" His voice is toneless, and I can see the resignation in his eyes, resignation to the fate that I've just spoon-fed them all. But from these few words, I know that he's with me in this.
"Yeah, we're listening," Hermione whispers. I still have my arm around her, and I look down at her. She gives me a small, sad smile, and I return it briefly, a minimal sign of appreciation for her support, and sadness that I'm the one leading us into this. Though I may know that my own words are true-that Voldemort will kill us either way-it doesn't make it any easier to live with the knowledge that you are the one leading your friends to slaughter.
"Look," I begin, "if anyone objects to my plan of fighting, that's all right. We can break up if we have to-"
Ginny cuts me off. "No, Harry. We'll follow you, and only you. Some of us may not want to face it, but I think all of us know what you just said is true. And I think that we all have pretty much given up the idea of running. You're our leader, and if you're going to do this, then none of us are going to leave your side." Ginny looks around, almost warningly. "Does anyone want to argue with that?"
This time the silence is shorter, and easier to interpret. They are going to stand by me. I can't say that makes me feel any better or any worse. It goes the same distance in both ways.
"A-All right," I say, a little started at the overwhelming support. "So . . . I guess that if we are going to have this battle, we need to pick a battleground. We may not have much, but we have that advantage. Allowing Voldemort that chance would lessen our likelihood of doing anything. So we need to move fast, before they find us and initiate this thing. I think that we should go to Hogwarts."
"But that's where they've set up headquarters!" Angelina protests. "That would give them the advantage."
"Maybe," I agree. "But this all started there, two years ago, or seven years ago, however you want to look at it. But it all comes down to Hogwarts. It's the center of everything. It's where this began, and I'd like it to be where it ends. The way I see it, if we fight somewhere else, we're going to die leaving Hogwarts to be Puerclades forever. Hermione knows how awful that is, and I have some idea. But if we die on those grounds, fighting for it, then a piece of it will always be Hogwarts."
I see some people nodding. Hermione gives me a wider smile this time, and I can see I've gotten through to them. I now look to Dumbledore. I know that in his eyes, the final decision will rest with me, but I need his backing in this. "Professor?" I ask tentatively. "What's your take?"
"I shall follow your decisions, Harry, whatever they may be. But I think that you are correct on both your decisions here tonight, if that is of any aid," Dumbledore says.
It's of more aid than he can possibly know. The fact that he thinks I'm making the right choices based on his wisdom of over a century as compared to my seventeen is a great help. "What do you think we should do now, sir?" I ask.
His answer is the one I had expected. "That is your choice, Harry. You are choosing wisely tonight, I see no reason not to let you continue to do so. However, I must suggest that perhaps it would be easier to fight if we were each equipped with a wand? We have extras at the headquarters of the Order. Unfortunately, we have not any substantial amount of money, nor enough supplies to equip even half of you all. We cannot compensate for all you have lost. Our shelter is small, with barely enough room for those we have now. So we cannot keep you there. But we do have wands. We can go there briefly if you wish."
I nod. "Yes, that's best. But I don't want any of your people who are there to come along, or feel like they're obliged to. It's best if they stay free. They're not at risk right now, and after the rest of us are gone, it will be good to have some people left to fight."
I am amazed at how casually I am speaking of our imminent deaths, as though what is coming is no more than a forecasted storm. It's unnerving, how easily I am continuing. Am I in some kind of denial, or am I just far too good at accepting the hard things?
Dumbledore gives a small nod. "Of course. But some of them will want to fight, no doubt. To allow a few to come along may not be the worst of things. Certainly not all of them, though. But the real trouble will be telling, as you started to say, the ones that feel they are obligated and the ones that truly want it."
I bite my lip in consideration. Finally, I say, "Well, we'll figure it out when we get there. First matter: how do we get there?"
"Group Apparition," Dumbledore says simply. "It is a process that is maddeningly difficult, but I've mastered it, over time. Simply do as I instruct, and we shall be at the headquarters in a matter of moments.
"We first need to adjoin hands. Everyone's hands must be linked. If someone neglects to touch another, the entire process will be thrown off, with dire consequences."
I remove my arm from around Hermione and shift a bit farther away to allow room for our hands to take hold of one another.
"All right," Dumbledore continues. "Now, Sirius, Remus, Alastor, please envision headquarters vividly. Everyone else, simply think strongly of the place you want to go to. Repeat 'Order of the Phoenix headquarters' over and over in your mind. I shall do the rest."
I think the words over and over in my mind, blanking out everything else, understanding from experience just how important complete concentration is to the process of Apparition, group or otherwise. But after a while of this, my mind begins to wander and realize just how much time has passed. How long does group Apparition take?
"There seems to be something wrong," Dumbledore speaks up in a slightly concerned tone.
My eyes open, and I can see everyone shifting. Ron drops my hand. Hermione does not. "What's happening?" I ask, frowning.
"I am not certain," Dumbledore begins, seeming deep in concentration, his brow furrowed, "but I do not think we did anything wrong in the process. No, I am almost dead certain that it is an error in admittance." Seeing the blank looks on most of our faces, he explains: "Someone here is blocked from allowance due to our security barriers."
No one bothers to ask how he is so certain of this; everyone present knows how Dumbledore is. When he knows something, he knows it. There is no reason to question how he knows it. Taking it at face value is always the best bet.
Hermione shifts next to me, and she speaks up, voice hesitant and slightly ashamed. "It's probably me," she says. "Your barriers probably still recognize me as a traitor."
It makes sense, but to my surprise, Dumbledore shakes his head. "No. Our security barriers aren't set up in such a way. Since you were always on our side as it is, it would let you through. Someone else is causing the interference."
"Not necessarily," Moody growls. His eye has finally stopped spinning, and is now settled on Hermione.
I bristle. "Hey, what are you saying?" I demand, growing defensive quickly.
Moody's eye flicks to me for a moment before going back to her. He doesn't even bother answering me. He crosses the distance between himself and Hermione and stops in front of her. I can feel her take a slight, involuntary step backward. Moody pulls out his wand, and I step in front of her.
"What do you think you're doing?!" I yell.
"Move, Potter," he snaps. When I don't, he sighs in irritation. "I'm not going to hurt her. I'm running a test. It will cause no physical pain, and if it does, you can curse me if you bloody well like."
I see Dumbledore nod at me from behind Moody, and I put my faith in his trust in Moody. "Count on it," I mutter, stepping slightly to the side.
He points his wand at Hermione and says, "Vestigo Acclaro!"
Hermione has no reaction, much to my relief. But after a few moments of nothing happening, she glows bright red for about five seconds before returning to normal. I stare, uncomprehending. Looks of horrified understanding seem to be crossing the faces of Sirius, Lupin, and Dumbledore. Moody just looks grimly satisfied. No one else looks like they understand.
"Yup," Moody says. "It's her."
"What is her?" I demand. I am well aware of Ron watching all this stiffly from beside me.
Moody glances to Dumbledore. "You tell him," he growls before limping away to where he'd been standing. "He's less likely to curse you."
Hermione and I look at each other, and I can see the fear on her face. Whatever is happening, I believe without a doubt that this isn't some last-minute betrayal.
Dumbledore sighs. "She's under a tracing charm."
My mind takes a few moments to understand this, but Hermione immediately gasps slightly next to me. "Oh, God," she whispers. She looks completely stunned and horrified.
"Wait," I demand, still trying to think and failing. "A tracing charm? Like . . . what? What do you mean?"
"Voldemort is tracking her," Sirius explains. "It's how he found us so easily at the hideout, and why he's probably not coming for us now. He knows where we are. He's just biding his time; playing with us, I guess." He looks to Hermione, who is standing beside me, a look of horror on her face. "I, for one, don't believe she was aware she was under it."
"I . . . I . . ." Hermione says, seemingly unable to speak. "I'm sorry . . . Oh, Merlin, it's all my fault." She looks near tears.
"It's all right," I tell her gently. My eyes dare anyone to contradict my words. I'm surprised to see that with the exception of suspicion on the Weasley twins' faces, no one looks accusatory.
Dumbledore steps forward. "Hermione, it is not your fault. Voldemort has tricked many of the greatest wizards, and often times the simplest tricks are the hardest to outwit. Don't you blame yourself for this."
She does not move. "If I'd of thought . . . of course he would, it would make sense, so why didn't I see this coming?" she mutters. "I knew you shouldn't have brought me here," she sighs miserably.
"I don't regret it," I tell her. "Stop making it sound as though I should. How could you have known? I've felt that curse before-rational thought isn't even possible."
She shrugs, and silence falls again.
Dumbledore looks around. "I would remove the charm, but it is personalized. I cannot break it. Only the wand that instigated the charm can do that." Hermione nods, still not looking up, and Dumbledore continues. "So . . . it does not seem as though we can take you along, Hermione. Harry, stay with her here. I will take the others and we shall go to the Order, gather all those who intend to come, and return. We shan't be more than ten minutes, and should you be found . . . fight as best you can."
Oh, the words that inspire such optimism. "All right," I agree. "But make sure no one comes along unless they really want to. How many people are there?"
"Eighteen," Dumbledore responds. "Not including myself, Sirius, Alastor, or Remus."
I nod. "Okay. Make sure at least eight-preferrably ten or more-of them stay. We'll need a team remaining. And . . . make sure to appoint a leader. Someone I trust. I want to know for certain that they'll be left with someone who can continue the fight and make a real difference."
"The only person there you know is Sibyll Trelawny. And Hermione should know Valerie Vector, the old Arithmancy teacher. Sibyll isn't high on your list of most trusted people, I'm sure," Dumbledore says.
I am startled to hear the Trelawny survived, but shake it quickly. "No, not her," I say very firmly. If I leave the Order in her hands, they'll be doomed to failure. "Who else, then?"
Dumbledore coughs slightly, making me look to him. As soon as he sees he's got my attention, he begins, "If I may? Perhaps it does not need to be someone back there." He looks toward where Sirius, Lupin, and Moody stand. "Perhaps someone that is here?"
I consider it and realize there's no reason that wouldn't work. I look to Sirius and raise an eyebrow. He sees me and shakes his head vigorously.
"No, Harry," Sirius says. "If you're doing this, I am going to be by your side. I promised Lily and James I'd take care of you!"
"And coming with me tonight won't be doing that," I reply. "All that will be doing is getting us both killed, which is quite pointless. I know that you want to avenge my father's death. The best way to do that is not by coming tonight, when in all likelihood we'll be torn down. It's better for you to stay here, and keep fighting. I don't want Moody in charge; he's too unpredictable. And Professor Lupin could do it, but . . . I'm just more comfortable with you."
"I must agree, Sirius," Lupin adds, looking at his friend.
"As must I," says Dumbledore.
Sirius is staring at me, his eyes flicking over to Dumbledore and Lupin periodically. "Harry . . ." he begins, trailing off. He sighs and shakes his head, as though trying to clear his thoughts. "I can't let you do this alone," he insists. "Remus will do a perfectly good job of leading them. Or even Dumbledore!"
"Not I," Dumbledore says, with a slight shake of his head. "Oh, no, my boy. Not I. For many years I've expected tonight's stand, and my old heart will never rest at ease if I do not partake in it. It is the burden of a younger soul to bear, carrying on the Order."
"Sirius, I want you to let me do this alone," I say. "Right now, I'm trying to deal with the fact that I am leading all the people I care about to death at the hands of a maniac. I'm carrying a huge weight on my shoulders with that. The fact that you aren't among those I'm leading, that you've still got a chance to live and to fight . . . it will lessen that weight by more than you can imagine. Please, help make this easier. If you want to look out for me, to fulfill my parents' wishes, then do this. Don't make me go to my grave with more guilt than I already have. Please." My words are full of truth and I say them as strongly as I can.
Sirius is watching me, looking torn and conflicted. "Are you sure? You aren't just saying that?" he asks, and I can tell he is weakening.
"Yes, I'm sure," I say.
He looks to Dumbledore and Lupin questioningly again before sighing and saying, "All right, then. If it's what's best for you . . . I'll do it."
Sirius walks forward and grabs me into a tight hug. I hug him back, feeling tears welling in my eyes as the mutual understanding passes through each of us-this is the last time we will see each other. This makes it all real to me as nothing else has. Not to say that I've thought this has all been a dream-no, I've understood exactly what is happening. But now the real pain of it is beginning.
"You've done great things, Harry," Sirius is telling me, his voice muffled and gruff from an attempt to fight back tears. "Tonight is no exception. You're one of the bravest men I've ever had the pleasure of meeting and working with. And I want you to know, from someone who knew James Potter better than anyone, that he'd have been extremely proud of you. And the same goes for Lily, and for me. I love you, kid." He breaks away from me, tears running down his face.
"Thanks," I say, a tear leaking out of my eye. "For everything."
He nods and looks like he wants to say something, but breaks off, probably to conceal a sob. He turns and walks back to the other side of the circle. "Dumbledore, let's go," he orders gruffly.
I stare at him, feeling the loss already. I study each bit of him, from his now cleanly-cut black hair, to his pale and slightly gaunt face, and his deep-set eyes that still hold within them the shadows Azkaban put there. I try to engrave a picture of him in my mind. I feel Hermione's hand on my arm and I look down at her. She still looks ashamed, and she spreads that feeling to me when I realize I've temporarily forgotten all about the revelation of a few moments ago. She pulls me back a few steps so that the circle can close again without us. After a few moments during which I stare at Sirius from outside the circle, all of them vanish in one swift, silent motion, leaving Hermione and I quite alone in the middle of the dark, frigid, winter forest.
"Goodbye, Sirius," I whisper, letting the lonely words fall on the deaf ears of the trees and fade away into the blackness.
Hermione rests her head on my shoulder. She isn't tall enough for it to be lying flat on the top of my shoulder, so instead it rests vertically on the side. I look down at her, another tear falling. "Are you going to be okay?" she asks me.
I nod, my throat constricted. "Yeah. I'm just glad he's safe." I look at her. "What about you? Are you okay?"
She shrugs slightly, not looking at me, her feet shifting the snow around them. "I feel awful," she murmurs. "I'm supposed to be the brilliant one. I'm Hermione Granger, the know-it-all, the mental library of books and tactics and spells and I couldn't even consider the possibility that they'd try something like this. Lucius must have done it earlier in his office. If they'd had it on me before, they would have tracked me sooner. A skilled wizard can embed a simpler spell such as a Tracker in a different, more powerful curse so both hit at the same time. Lucius, awful though he is, has the skill to do it. He probably placed it within one of his blasted Cruciatus curses, just in case something happened and I should get away."
I shake my head a little. "You were under a lot of stress when we were in his office, and afterward. Anyone who blames you for not being smart enough to see something that most people without telepathy couldn't have caught isn't worth considering."
"I guess there's nothing to do about it now. It's over and done," Hermione says, but I know she's saying this to end the conversation. She still holds guilt.
We're quiet for a while in the ebony night. We cannot see one another very well from the dim light of my wand. Finally, she speaks again.
"He was right, you know," she whispers. We do not move, still standing oddly still.
"About what?" I question, my eyes still fixed upon the spot where Sirius had stood moments before.
"About you being brave," she says. "Everything you've done . . . for me and for your cause . . . what you're doing tonight . . . proves just how much you deserve the status of a Gryffindor. And he was right about your parents being proud of you. I don't see how anyone wouldn't be." She sighs, shifting a bit. "I wish I could say the same for me about someone . . . about anyone."
"Hey, don't start that," I say. "You deserve just as much respect as I do. You sacrificed everything to protect Ron and I. You suffered more than I can imagine just trying to keep that façade up. Sure, it didn't work out like you planned, but things don't always. If everything had worked out the way I planned, we wouldn't be here tonight. Hell, as far as that goes, if my life had gone the way I'd planned, Voldemort wouldn't exist, all of our parents would be alive, nothing bad would have happened to you, and we'd all live in peace and harmony. Things never go the way you want them to. But you tried, just like I did, to keep things right, and protect the people you cared about. And again, it didn't work out. But you tried to make it work out. And that's all that counts."
She shakes her head. "How could anyone be proud of me? Most people are too busy hating me for letting Voldemort into Hogwarts and effectively letting him commit genocide and destroy the wizarding world. Now I'm responsible for the deaths of all of you, since I led him here. I can't even say my parents are proud of me-I got them killed, remember?" She looks down. "Sorry. You don't need this tonight."
"Good intentions, bad action plan," I sigh. "It's happened to me before. And there is someone who's proud of you: I am. And I always will be."
She lets out a humorless laugh. "For what? Being a royal screw-up? For letting Voldemort trace me here and putting us all in the positions we're in?"
"No," I reply. "For everything I just said and more. I care about you for the same reasons."
Our eyes are locked for a few instants, and then she looks away. She sighs and walks over to a nearby rock, sitting down. "I suppose we should talk about what happened earlier, right? Before Ron came? It's not a favorable topic of conversation, but our time is running short, and this is likely to be the last time we'll ever have together, just you and I. Might as well get the issues cleared up rather than take them with us to the grave." I shudder at the blunt way she puts it.
She looks at me again, and I wait for her to say something. After a long silence, she does. "I know I reacted oddly when you kissed me. I hope you didn't take that as a sign that I was angry with you for doing it. Did you?"
"Kind of," I admit, shifting awkwardly and wishing there was something I could sit down on as well.
Hermione shakes her head. "Well that's not it. I . . . I felt scared. The fact that you were kissing me was a clear sign that you cared about me. And the fact that I enjoyed it was a clear sign that I cared about you, too. Harry . . . I've hurt all the people I've cared about. My parents, my friends, you. I couldn't bear the thought that I was going to hurt you again. And then when I thought, 'hey, maybe that phase of my life is over,' I also thought that Voldemort was never going to let us be. I've grown so accustomed to living in misery and having everything that makes me happy taken away that I just knew that the same would happen again. I didn't think I could stand losing something else I loved."
I try hard to conceal the surprise I feel. I hadn't previously considered her feeling anything like this. "Oh," I say, knowing how lame it sounds, but I am unable to think of anything else.
She doesn't seem to notice as she continues. "But now, everything is coming to an end. We're going to die. So why not let it all out? He's already going to succeed in doing what I knew he would-taking us away from each other, leaving me alone and miserable again."
I shake my head rigorously. "No," I say firmly. She looks up at me, confused. "I do care about you, Hermione. More than I can say. And yeah, we're going to die. But I promise you, here and now, that Voldemort will never take me away from you. I'll always be with you, no matter what happens. I swear it."
She watches me carefully for a few moments. When she speaks, her voice is heavy with resignation, but I wonder if I have heard a distant tint of hope. "I don't know how you intend to pull that off, Harry, but it sounds a lot nicer than saying we'll be separated for eternity. So why not take a walk on the optimist's side for once? I promise to stay by your side for as long as I can."
"We started it together, we'll end it together," I assure her.
She buries her head deep in my shoulder and embraces me. I don't say anything. I don't feel I need to. We pull apart, and I lean in to kiss her again, this time less self-consciously. The kiss is brief, but it lasts just long enough for me to feel happiness at the fact that she does care for me the way I do for her; along with it though, is disappointment. We finally confront and realize these feelings on the eve of our deaths. How romantically ironic.
We are still kissing softly when a loud crack sounds from behind us, making us jump apart and pull out our wands. My heart has leaped into my throat and I am prepared for my final battle when I see that it is only my friends returning. I lower my wand, letting out a shaky sigh of a breath that I had been holding. I notice that the group is stronger by better than nine people. Sirius, of course, is absent. I'd half hoped that he would return, so I could see him one last time and prove that things aren't always as you expect. But it is better this way, I tell myself firmly.
Dumbledore steps forward toward us. "The matters have been taken care of," he assures us. "Twelve of the eighteen people there wanted to help, but I only allowed ten to come. There are nine people left at headquarters now, including Sirius. Everyone is equipped with a wand." Dumbledore motions toward the new people, who have clustered together in a group. "These are my people. Many of them are Ministry officials, and old contacts of mine. Valerie Vector is among the group with Sirius, but Sibyll Trelawny is joining us tonight. Sibyll?"
Much to my displeasure, I see Professor Trelawny step forward from the crowd. She looks just the same as ever: cloaked in a crimson shawl, her hair done up in a bun, donning spectacles that magnify her eyes to a grotesque size.
"Professor," I greet her, as respectfully as I possibly can. I'm not in the mood for pleasantries, and besides that, it's always been fairly difficult to even pretend to possess a smidgen of respect for Trelawny. Morbid and cruel though it may sound, I must express my disappointment in the fact that she survived rather than someone more worthy and more useful, like McGonagall. It is a true example to the fact that life is not fair. But then, my entire life has been a fair example of that.
She clasps her hands together before her face and inclines her head slightly in greeting. "Welcome, my children," she murmurs in her signature, mystically whimsical voice. "You may wonder what I am doing here; you most likely feel I would be more use to the group who remains. I see that as well. My Inner Eye could be of great use to them. However, I must follow what I see, and I did indeed observe myself earlier coming here with all of you. And so I do."
I've had enough already. My patience is at zero. My mixed feelings about Hermione and I, the empty, churning feeling in my chest from Sirius's departure, and the very thought at what we are about to do is taking it's toll on me. I have a horrible, sinking feeling that time is running out, and my adrenaline is beginning to flow again, leaving me with a nauseous desire to keel over and heave up the meal we just ate.
"Not to be rude or anything, but we don't have time for this. We have to get going. We're not safe here, Voldemort could pop up at any minute," I say, keeping my voice carefully neutral.
Dumbledore nods. "Of course," he agrees. "But before we set out, I must inquire as to whether or not Sibyll has any last minute predictions to bestow upon us about the nature of what awaits us beyond." That old twinkle of his is dancing once again in his eyes.
Professor Trelawny looks as though Christmas has arrived. "Why, as a matter of fact, I do!" she cries.
I work hard to suppress a groan. Unable to help myself, I ask, "Let me guess-it involves my dying, right?" It is a weak joke, as it is already an accepted fact that we will all be dying tonight. Sadly, in the long run, Trelawny's predictions of my death were true. But then, eventually, under any circumstances, they would have been anyway.
In spite of the dire circumstances and the fact that everyone knows the things I was just thinking, I see Ron snort and looks of amusement cross the faces of Dumbledore, Lupin, and most of the others.
Trelawny gives a huffy sigh. "If you dare to be so disrespectful to the powers of the fates, then their wisdoms shall not be lost upon you!"
I see Hermione, whose never had patience with Trelawny, roll her eyes and smile sweetly. "How thoughtful of you."
Trelawny gives Hermione a look of superiority. "You never were open-minded enough to listen to what can be heard without ears. Perhaps had you done so, you could have divined what your future would hold. However, Miss Bell, Miss Spinnet, and Mr. Longbottom always tried their best, and for their sake, I shall pass on the message the fates have sent me."
"Of course you will," Hermione mutters so only I can hear. She is burning red in some combination of humiliation and anger due to Trelawny's last comment to her. "Can't pass up a chance to be the center of attention . . ."
Trelawny begins moving her hands in a complex pattern that I can't help but think makes her look stupid. She takes on her mystical tone, her eyes wide behind her spectacles, making them look grotesquely misproportioned. "I have seen, my dears, what this night shall hold! Upon a snowy battlefield, we all shall meet, and all will appear lost. But-" she lowers her voice to a whisper, "-I saw within my tea leaves the unmistakable shape of a grim holding a serpent in its teeth! Death shall conquer the Dark Lord, my dears! We have nothing to fear!"
"Of course not, because that time you saw the Grim in Harry's tea cup-well, he died right off, didn't he?" Ron said sarcastically, his eyes narrowed. "Glad we have something to put our faith in now."
Trelawny let out a small hmph! and turned her head away. "You shall see, and perhaps then your faith will be restored."
"Didn't realize you could restore something that didn't exist in the first place," Hermione says, not bothering to be quiet.
Ron gives Hermione what looks like a slight smile from where he stands. She cautiously returns it, and for a moment, something of what once existed between them is reincarnated in that instant, and though it passes in the blink of an eye, it is an important step. More than Trelawny's words, more than my own plan, this is what I place my trust in-my best friends' unity.
Trelawny looks ready to retort, but Dumbledore coughs softly and all eyes turn to him. "While this is undeniably interesting, Sibyll, and while I love to hear what the fates have to say as I have not the diving power myself, is it perhaps possible that we have stayed here a bit too long?"
I nod briskly. "Yes, let's focus. Is everyone armed?" I ask, feeling my heartbeat increase. There are murmured affirmative answers, and I nod briefly. "You all understand what we're doing tonight? You know that this is not a battle where we're evenly matched, or even a battle that we have a chance of surviving. You understand that we are making one final stand now, and you are still willing to follow?"
The answers are firmer this time, and I feel slightly heartened by that. Hermione grabs my hand and I squeeze it. As I speak, I force myself to sound the part of brave, willing leader, instead of the scared kid that I am. "Okay, then. It's time."
And it is with those last, ominous words, that I take the first step in the direction of Puerclades.
A/n: And there ya go, the full version of chapter thirteen! Hope you all enjoyed it. One more chapter and the epilogue to go. I might post the next chapter today, or perhaps both tomorrow. I'm not sure, depends on how much time I have. I have three and half days left of school, and my teachers seem to favor killing us rather than the easier option of letting us slide for a few days. So I'll do my best!