~~ 4 ~~
Risking it All
"All your purposes are gone,
Nothing's right and nothing's wrong,
Nothing ventured, nothing gained,
Feel no sorrow, feel no pain."
--Three Doors Down
I do not return until close to four a.m. Ron and Hagrid confront me angrily as I enter. I have no patience for their questions and demands. I tell them harshly to leave me be and return to my room, intending to get some sleep.
My intentions are not carried out. Every time I close my eyes, images flash beneath my eyelids, sending me tossing and turning. The worst come when I manage to fully doze off. No longer are they mere images-they have transformed into fully-fledged nightmares. Seeing Hermione has brought them back in full force. I have not had nightmares to this particular degree in a long while. Worst of all are the memories of the day Hermione turned traitor openly. The day Ron and I realized we had been being used for Merlin knew how long. I saw her standing before me, at Voldemort's side, head held high and proud as Voldemort rounded up the whole school. I am nearly sick at the memory. Oh, how I had clung desperately to the belief that she was under the Imperius Curse. All along, though, I think I knew that she was not. Then the disbelief had vanished, replaced by a burning anger that had held out until just yesterday. Then I had seen her. And now I do not know how anything stands.
I give up after about an hour of attempted sleep, knowing my efforts are wasted. If I am to lay awake for the rest of the night, I might as well make something out of the hours. Running fingers through my unruly hair, I step out of the room I share with Ron, Fred, and George. The other three have not been in here since I came back. I venture to the kitchen and see Ron sitting at the table, his head in his hands. A mug of coffee is in front of him, steam rising from it slowly. It appears untouched.
"Hey, mate," I say softly, stopping in the doorway.
Ron's head snaps up and he looks at me. I'm not sure what I expect to see on his face-anger, probably. Anger at me for running off without telling anyone, jeopardizing us all, and then returning only to tell him rudely that I didn't want to talk about it. His face contains no anger, just a deep, reminiscing sadness. I can tell it is one of the times that he is allowing himself to consider the past and the possibilities had Hermione not betrayed us. He doesn't do it too often any longer, and when he does you know he's really upset. I have a terrible feeling that I have brought on this particular attack of nostalgia and I feel bad for that.
"Hello," he says, his voice hoarse. I walk over and take the seat across from him. He motions at the coffee mug. "Want some?"
I nod. "Yeah. After the night I've had, I assure you I'll be getting no sleep. I already tried and it didn't work out too well."
He says nothing to this comment. He simply stands and pours me some. It is black, but I do not care, simply happy for the caffeine. The steaming liquid burns my tongue but I take no notice. Ron is still not looking at me and I am beginning to feel more than a little guilty.
"I'm sorry for the way I acted earlier," I say finally. "I just took off on a whim. I'm the leader here-I have no right to up and leave with no warning. It was wrong of me. And I'm also sorry for being so short with you when I came back."
Ron just shrugs and shakes his head. "No big deal. You're back. That's what counts." He is silent for another long moment before he looks up. I can see the pain in his eyes. "I thought they'd captured you, Harry. Call me paranoid, but I was positive that's what had happened. I went nuts. Ask anyone around here. I've already lost my parents and Percy; I've as good as lost Bill and Charlie for all the help they're doing us over in Romania; I've lost Ginny, Fred and George in the sense that we're all so divided anymore; and I've lost Hermione in the worst of ways. Thinking I'd lost you too . . . I really lost it there, pal."
And there it goes, the truckload of guilt that has been threatening to tip has poured over onto me. I wonder exactly how it was that Ron lost it. I'll have to ask Fred or George later. "I'm sorry," I say again, though I am aware of how horribly inadequate it sounds.
Ron shrugs again. "Don't worry about it. I'm just sort of out of it right now." He looks up, directly into my eyes. "Though I am interested in knowing exactly where it was you took off to. You look like you've aged about a hundred years since we last saw you. What happened to you?"
I am unsure of how Ron will take what I have done. He hates Hermione with a blazing passion the likes of which I've never seen. Will he see my actions as a betrayal to him, to this group? Will he hate me? I consider how to break it to him. Because I know that no matter how he may react, he deserves the explanation.
"I went back to Hogwarts," I say finally. I offer no more of an explanation, waiting to see if he fits the puzzle pieces together himself. I don't dare look at him, but I can sense his eyes burning into me. I feel as though we have switched places-now I am the one hiding my eyes whilst he watches my every move.
"Oh?" says Ron, almost nonchalantly. Any of his acquaintances would have taken this statement as being calm and casual. I, however, know Ron much better than most other people. I can hear the distinct undercurrent of bitter anger in his voice. In that second, my head snaps up. He knows. He's known all along that whatever I was doing had to do with Hermione.
I call him on it. "How much do you know?" I demand.
Ron just shrugs, a small, sad smile playing on his lips. "Not much. I didn't really fit it all together until you came back. What we spoke of before you left . . . how you reacted when you saw her back at Hogwarts . . . I figured you'd gone to see her again." The smile is gone now, and his eyes are burning deep into mine, searching for any hidden truths. "Tell me, though-why did you go back to see her? What could possibly be so important that you had to go to her?"
"She's the only one I could go to, Ron," I explain, aware my own words don't make much sense. "I just had to talk to her. I've needed to since this whole thing began, you know? I couldn't put my mind to rest until I did."
Ron nods and I can see in his eyes that he understands. I am beginning to feel glad that I have caught him in a mellow moment. There were other times with a proclamation like this would have had us shouting at one another. "So did it help?" he asks.
I consider. Finally, I shake my head. "No," I say softly. "I don't think it did."
"Why not?"
"I was expecting her to be cold and mean and . . . deceitful. I just plainly expected her to be some evil, callous, uncaring monster. I imagined our encounter to be brief and filled with anger. I figured she'd insult me; tell me off for being ignorant enough to believe her or something. Then I'd turn and walk away and I'd know that all these hours I've spent wondering whether or not she might truly still be good were wasted. That she was evil all along. It would have put my mind to rest. I could have put her behind me, in some sense. I would have been able to move on, knowing once and for all that she is and always will be a traitor." I stop and shake my head, taking another sip of my coffee and massaging my temples. "It didn't turn out that way. She was so . . . upset and . . . emotional and. . . . Ron, she seemed to be in so much pain. As it turned out, I was the one that lost it. I started screaming at her. I actually threw it in her face that her parents were tortured to death."
I can see Ron's wince. I know he is thinking of his own parents, and thanking Merlin that at least they didn't die by torture. "Yes, well, she deserved it. What did she do, shrug and walk away?" His words are harsh, but I cannot help remembering that I'd assumed she'd react the same way.
I shake my head. "No. She started crying. I don't think she knew . . . she was so upset I started to feel sorry for her. She kept telling me that I didn't know the whole story, but she was too afraid to tell me. Kept going on about the punishments the Death Eaters would give her. She made it sound like she was some sort of a prisoner."
"Sympathy," says Ron calmly. "She's playing you again, Harry. Of course she's not just going to be blunt and insult you. She'll want to entwine herself around you again, get more information, and capture us. Don't fall for it."
I am not so sure. Perhaps it is as Ron says, and I am falling into her beautifully laid trap once more-I've certainly considered the possibility myself. But that does not stop my doubts. I explain about the knife and my suspicions of her attempted suicide.
Ron just shakes his head. "She wasn't going to kill herself, Harry. She's probably planting it all as evidence to trick you and get more sympathy. And besides, even if she did kill herself, I'm not going to be losing any sleep over it." He stands and stretches. He pours his half-drank coffee into the sink and wanders toward the door. "I'll see you later. I want to see if I can't get an hour or two of sleep before morning."
Ron disappears out the doorway and I suddenly feel quite alone. Certainly, I'm alone in the kitchen; I'm on my own a lot and it does not bother me. I'm not alone in that sense. However, watching Ron's back retreat, I have a terrible feeling of being on my own in the sense that no one supports me. Of course they are my friends-I know that without question. But they don't feel what I do when it comes to Hermione. I can see why they don't-they didn't see her and talk to her. Even if they had, after what she did, I can't say I'd blame them if they still turned away. But I can't turn away. Going to see Hermione has put me right in the middle of this mess. I can't just leave it here. There is more to all this and I will not stop until I get the whole story. Yet no one else seems to support me in this decision.
I sigh and stand, leaving my coffee on the table and not caring that Ginny, the biggest neat freak of all of us, will most likely bite my head off for it in a few hours. I take a seat on the old couch in front of the fireplace. The couch is ripped in many places and some springs poke up in certain areas. I sit staring into the flames. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see that light is beginning to dawn outside the window.
I hear footsteps behind me and close my eyes, wondering who it is that will disrupt my solitude. I turn my head and see Hagrid walking over to the couch. He is so tall that he has to duck his head a little to walk through the house, because of the low ceilings. He sits down beside me and I can hear the couch screech in protest. He doesn't seem to notice.
"All righ' there, Harry?" he asks me quietly. I nod and Hagrid continues. "'Cause yeh gave us all quite the scare there earlier. An' yeh don' look so good righ' now." I say nothing and make no motion of response. It's not that I dislike Hagrid's concern, but I am simply not in the mood to talk. Hagrid, however, seems determined to start a conversation and his next comment gets the desired result: "I heard you an' Ron talkin' abou' Hermione in the kitchen."
I look at him, not particularly surprised. The house is small; people can't help overhearing things sometimes. "Eavesdropping, then?" I tease weakly.
"Not intentionally, I swear ter it. I jus' walked by an' happened ter overhear her name. I paused ter listen." He gives me an apologetic smile. "I think I heard most everythin'."
I nod again. "So go ahead then-read me the riot act. I expect to get it by every single person in this house before the morning's over, so get your turn over with now."
Hagrid sighs. "Harry, I ain' here ter yell at yeh an' criticize yer decisions. I trust yer judgment. But I can' say I trust Hermione. An' I don' think yeh should get involved any deeper with her. Yeah, a large reason fer my sayin' tha' is our safety. But I also don' wan' ter see yeh get hurt again. She's a great con artist. We all fell fer her. We all wanted so badly ter trust her fer a while there. But tha' time has passed. We know she's bad. If yeh feel sorry fer her, she'll be able ter use tha' ter gain yer trust-an' then she'll betray yeh again."
I wince at his final words and put my head in my hands. "I know. Believe me, I know. I don't know what to think about her, Hagrid. But you didn't see her! The way she looked . . . I just can't believe it's all an act. Maybe part of it, yeah. But when she was talking to me about being afraid all the time, and whatever it is that the Death Eaters do to her, the fear in her eyes and in her voice was real. That much I can swear to."
Hagrid's face takes on a look of sadness. "So yeh think they bin hurtin' her?"
I take a moment to consider, and then nod. "I guess so. I don't see what else could cause such a reaction. And Hagrid, I know she's caused us enough suffering. I know what Ron would say-I know he'd be happy to let her be tortured to death at the hands of the Death Eaters. But I couldn't live with that. I still remember the old times and . . . maybe all along she was just acting, but I still feel like at one point we really were friends. And I just can't let something like that happen."
Hagrid shows no reaction for a moment, and then looks at me. "Harry, I know where yer comin' from. If she were ter die fer wha' she's done . . . I could accept tha'. She'd deserve it. But she doesn' deserve ter suffer as much as yeh suspect she is. Ter say tha' she did deserve it would be ter sink ter her level. I feel the same way you do-traitor though she is, she was once a friend, an' we should at least try ter prevent her from sufferin'. Ron an' his siblin's have lost more than any of us. It's no surprise he wouldn' be willin' ter see this the way we do. I can' blame him fer tha'."
"No, I can't either," I agree. "So what am I supposed to do?"
"I'm not sure, Harry. Jus' remember-whatever yeh decide ter do, do it with the knowledge o' the group and make sure yeh aren' jeopardizing any of us." Hagrid stands and pats my shoulder with one of his large hands, then wanders back down the hall. I stare once more into the dying flames of the fire. Now what?
* ~ * ~ *
Somehow, my antics the night before managed to stay between Ron, Hagrid and I. Ginny, Fred, George, Neville, Katie, and Angelina were all kept in the dark. I can't help but watch the group at breakfast. Such a small, pathetic band of rebels. These were the only people Ron and I had managed to safely get out of Gryffindor common room and down the secret passage to safety before the Death Eaters took us all. I know where Sirius is-he is hiding out somewhere with Dumbledore's group-an ally of ours. We do not know specifically where they are located in case one of us is ever captured and fed Veritaserum. The same goes for them about us. Their group consists of Dumbledore, Sirius, Remus Lupin, the real Mad-Eye Moody, Arabella Figg, Mundungus Fletcher, and a few Aurors and other Ministry personnel. They call themselves the Order of the Phoenix; we don't call ourselves anything.
I notice Ron and Hagrid watching me rather closely as I eat, but I do not return their gazes. Many of the others demand to know where I'd gone. When I refuse to speak of it, saying that it did not matter, it only makes them more determined. By the end of breakfast, I have managed to successfully piss off almost everyone with the exception of Ron and Hagrid, as they already know, and Fred and George who plainly refuse to give up and find my determination to be a delightful challenge.
Fred and George tail me everywhere I go until I get fed up with them, yell at them, and lock myself in our room. I climb out the window and sit outside on the tree stump below the window, watching the sun come up and cast it's grayish rays over the white and green trees. I can't figure out what to do about Hermione. Should I follow Ron's advice, Hagrid's, or my own? I'm leaning toward Hagrid's . . . he makes the most sense. But I don't know what to do. The only way I can stop the Death Eaters from hurting her is to take her away from Hogwarts, and that would be putting us in jeopardy. Voldemort would figure out that it was us and he'd hunt us even more viciously. No, I can't do that. But then what can I do?
After a half hour or so of thought, I climb back through the window. I throw on a thick jacket, as I am shivering from the cold. I have decided that I need more information before I do anything-and the only person I can get that information from is Hermione. I unlock the door and am relieved to see that Fred and George aren't determined enough to still be sitting there. I figure that had this all taken place back before Voldemort's takeover, they would have been persistent enough to go outside and climb through the window. Or use one of their own inventions to blast the door in.
Most of the others are sitting in the living room when I walk in. They all stop their conversations immediately and look at me. I clear my throat and say, "I'm going out. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. I just have some unfinished business to take care of. I should be back by nightfall. If I'm not back by tomorrow morning, then you can start worrying."
"Are you going back to wherever you were last night?" asks Ginny quietly.
"Yeah. Not everything got taken care of." I dare to look at Hagrid and Ron. Hagrid gives me a small wink and I figure that so far he approves of my course of action. Ron gives me a stare of sadness and possibly even pity. My chest tightens at his facial expression, but I manage to say, "Ron, you're in charge while I'm gone."
"Probably for the best. I'm thinking a lot more clearly than you," he says calmly. I can see the flash in his eyes. His mellow mood has deteriorated and he is growing angry with what he considers my foolishness.
I make no reply to this. I head straight for the door without another word and step out into the frosty, biting winter air. A desolate wind sweeps the snow and the gray blankets of snow clouds overtake the sun. I close my eyes and begin the process of Apparition.
* ~ * ~ *
It is around eleven a.m. when I reach the forest's edge again. It is a long hike between here and the safe Apparition point. I am beginning to wonder why I have come now. I won't be able to make any move until nightfall, when I told my group to expect me back by. I figure I had simply needed to get away from everyone. So I will wait.
I decide that climbing a tree would be safest. I will have a better vantage point and people will be less likely to see me. The trees' trunks are coated in slippery frost and it takes me many attempts and painful falls before I make it to the safety of a low, bushy branch.
The silence of the snow that is beginning to fall around me is relaxing. Uncomfortable and cold as the tree is, I settle back and close my eyes, letting the flakes of snow speckle my hair and listening to the calming quiet.
I must have been falling asleep when I heard the disruption. Suddenly the silence is broken and I struggle up from my near-unconsciousness. I peer over the tree branch and see two figures making their way toward the Whomping Willow. One figure is tall and regal. He has a firm hand clamped on the shoulder of a smaller figure, which has its head bowed. After a moment, I realize that the taller one is Lucius Malfoy himself, new Headmaster of Hogwarts. Of course, it isn't called Hogwarts any longer; Lucius and Voldemort have renamed the school Puerclades. I refuse to call it that. To call it by their name would be to admit defeat. It will always be Hogwarts to me.
I focus on the smaller figure now. It has to be a student. But why would the Headmaster lead a student out to the Whomping Willow? I must squint my eyes through the snow to make out any details on the distant figure. It takes me several seconds, then my eyes widen. It is Hermione.
I watch Lucius take a long stick and prod the knot at the base of the tree. It goes still and he shoves Hermione down into the secret passage below it. He lets go of the knot and jumps in himself.
My heart is thudding in confusion. What is going on? I am unsure, but I know that I do not like it. Whatever Lucius is doing cannot be good. It is obvious, even from such a great distance, that Hermione is not going with him willingly. I jump down. I am going to see what is happening. I am risking exposure and I know it, but I simply cannot wait here and wonder what is happening out of my range of sight.
I make a jog through the snow towards the tree. I pray no one watches from the windows of the castle. I begin to slow as I near its trunk-I am a fast sprinter, but the run from the forest to the willow is more than just a dash. It takes me a minute or two to reach it, and by the time I arrive, a stitch in my side is causing me an agony I force myself to ignore. I grab the same stick Lucius used and prod the knot. I try not to make any noise as I descend the steps into the dark, concrete hallway beneath the tree. I dig my wand out of my pocket and walk forward cautiously. There is a blind corner about fifteen yards ahead and I am certain that I can hear voices from around the corner, though I cannot make out what is being said.
My steps are slow and quiet. The fifteen yards creeps by so slowly I begin to think hours have passed. I am only halfway there when I hear a voice ring out: "Crucio!"
My eyes widen as I hear Hermione's anguished scream. I no longer bother with being careful. I dash wildly for the corner. By the time I reach it, the screaming has stopped. I round it, my wand out threateningly, but I see nothing. However, I can still hear Lucius's angry words, dull thuds, and Hermione's sobs.
A Wall of Invisibility, I realize and whisper, "Acclaro!" The Wall of Invisibility vanishes and I can now see what it was hiding. Lucius, who has his back turned to me, does not seem to notice my presence. Hermione is on the floor and he is kicking her. She sees me and her eyes grow wide with hope. It is just enough to attract Lucius's attention to me.
He turns and sneer comes over his face. "Harry Potter!" he cries in delight, his wand pointed at me. "What a wonderful surprise."
"Drop your wand and let her go," I say in a warning tone. "I swear I'll kill you if you don't."
Lucius laughs. "So you care about your dear Mudblood traitor now, do you? What happened to 'You betrayed us all-I hope the Death Eaters give you what you deserve'?"
I wince inwardly, remembering that those were the words I'd written in a Howler I'd sent to Hermione a few months after her betrayal. I grit my teeth and hiss, "Doesn't matter what I think of her actions. I'm not letting you hurt her. So get away from her."
"If you want the girl then come and get her! Let's see just how good a fighter you are. Petrificus Totalus!"
A bolt of purple light sweeps towards me, and I dodge deftly. I whisper quietly, "Furnuculo!"
My own spell, murmured quietly enough so that Lucius does not know what I have aimed at him, does the trick. He does not manage to dodge my spell in time and angry red boils begin to pop out everywhere on his face and hands. He roars in anger and hollers, "CRUCIO!"
Again I manage to dodge, though this time it is a much closer call. I see out of the corner of my eye that Hermione is beginning to crawl towards me while Lucius is preoccupied. I hope she manages to make it soon so we can run. Lucius is a much more experienced dueler-I can't hold out much longer. "Stupefy!" I holler.
Lucius jumps aside and the curse misses. He gives me a sneer. "Is that your best, Potter? Truly pathetic. How you've managed to evade us for so long is beyond me. Engorgio!"
This time his spell hits. My left arm begins to swell uncontrollably. It is an uncomfortable sensation, and it loses me some of my mobility, but I'm simply glad he missed my wand arm. I raise my one good arm and shout, "Reducio!" Then, a moment later, while he is still preoccupied dodging my first curse, I whisper: "Jevolosia!" He successfully dodges my first curse, as I had intended him to-but he has jumped right into the path of the Throwing Curse. It hits him in the stomach and he soars backwards, hitting the far wall. "Expelliarmus!" I howl while he is down and I see his wand flying toward me. I toss it to Hermione, as it is evident that she has no wand, and I pull her to her feet. She is hurt and leans against me heavily. I hear her groan in pain.
"Come on, we have to get out of here, he won't be down for long!" I snap, dragging her along.
She struggles against me and when I release her cautiously, she turns to face Lucius. She raises her wand and yells: "Stupefy!" Her voice is muffled with pain, but the curse hits anyway, and I can see Lucius slump. Hermione falls against me once more, her hand going limp and the wand dropping from her fingers. I don't stop to retrieve it, focusing my strength on pulling her along down the corridor. She is nearly unconscious and I can see blood on her face, trickling slowly out of the corner of her mouth.
We make it to the steps and climb upward. I cannot reach for the stick to prod the knot while at the same time holding Hermione, so I make a mad dash for safety. One of the willow's branches whips my back and slices through my jacket and into my skin. I can feel warm blood, but do not stop to inspect the injury, allowing myself no more than a slight wince at the sting spreading through me.
Finally, we make it to the forest's edge. I collapse onto the snow once we have cleared the first row of trees. Hermione is fully unconscious now. I stare up at the gray sky above, panting. Here I lay, holding the traitor that put us in the position we are now, and having just basically compromised us all to stop her from being tortured. I have gone against everything I promised my group.
What have I done?