Disclaimer: See Chapter 1
Notes: Thank you, everyone, who's read and reviewed this fic so far!
No Greater Love
Chapter 4: The Promise
The next three weeks were sheer torture for Harry.
He tried not to wonder about whatever spell it was which McGonagall was looking into, but for the obvious reasons, couldn't help himself from thinking about it.
What was the spell? What did it involve? Would it even work? Would he be able to perform it? Would it involve any risk for anyone else? (And that one consideration gave him considerable pause. He didn't want anyone else to be in danger for him, didn't want to even think about Hermione being in danger because of him. His worst fear-and the likelihood of it occurring seemed to be staring him in the face every day.)
It was made worse because he couldn't even tell Ron, which left him with a nagging sense of guilt, as if he were somehow betraying Ron and their friendship by not telling him of something so potentially important. He still remembered Ron's anger (mingled with horror and fear) when he'd finally told Ron of the Prophecy last year, the sense that he'd betrayed their years of friendship by keeping something so vital from Ron, that he hadn't trusted Ron enough. It had bothered him for a while, the implication that he might not trust Ron as much as he should. But a lack of trust wasn't the problem, never really had been. It was only an instinctive reluctance to involve Ron and Hermione further than they already were in the dangers of his life, a sense that, whatever else, this was his task to perform and his alone…
When McGonagall finally asked him, Hermione, and Ron this time too, to come to a meeting in the Transfiguration classroom after dinner, he knew something was finally happening. His heart seemed to have taken residence in his throat and he was thankful for Hermione's steadying presence by his side, her hand slipping into his to give it a reassuring squeeze.
He opened the door and stopped short. From just behind him, Ron's surprised cry of "Mum! Dad! What--" mingled with his own croak, "Remus!" forgetting for the first time, to call him Professor Lupin as he still did, from force of habit.
The three adults along with Professor McGonagall, who had been talking quietly, looked up and for the first time in his memory, neither the Weasleys nor Remus smiled in greeting. They looked tense, worried. Mrs. Weasley looked as if she were fighting back tears as she said, in an oddly restrained voice, "Hello, Ron, Harry, Hermione."
"Well, come in, you three," McGonagall's brisk tones interrupted and somehow her crisp demeanor, as familiar as it was, shook them all out of the strange mood of vague apprehension.
He sat down in his usual seat in Transfiguration out of habit, Ron next to him and Hermione on his other side, also as they usually did in class. The tight knot of foreboding in his throat, that had eased a little, returned full-force as he looked at Professor McGonagall's solemn expression and the worried ones of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Remus.
Finally, after what seemed like an interminably long time to him but was really only a few moments, Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and began. "I asked you here because you are the people who will be most involved in the effort to defeat Voldemort. Mr. Potter, your presence of course goes without question; Mr. Weasley's and Miss Granger's presence is nearly as certain as Mr. Potter's. Molly, Arthur, Remus," she looked at each of them in turn, "you are here, as I was explaining earlier, because of your relationship to Harry, your affection for him."
She paused briefly before continuing, speaking slowly as if she were carefully considering her words. "As some of you know, Miss Granger came to me several weeks ago with an idea that somehow a spell may be able to duplicate the protective effects of Harry's mother's sacrifice on Voldemort, both in making it painful for him to touch Harry but also, possibly, shield Harry once again from the Killing Curse. With Miss Granger's assistance, I found one record of a spell that may have a similar effect and have been looking into it since then. I believe this may be the single best hope we have at this moment. Before I continue, I must explain, however, that this is both extremely advanced magic and requires not only a high level of concentration but a strength of will and of feeling to make this at all effective. The last time this spell was attempted with success was in Godric Gryffindor's final confrontation against Salazar Slytherin."
She paused and Harry felt the dread inside him increase exponentially at her last revelation. Not since Gryffindor himself had this spell been performed successfully! Oh God, then what chance did he have?
Beside him, he felt Ron's tension, saw the way he began absently cracking his knuckles. On his other side, he could sense Hermione's growing nervousness mixed with something else, something that somehow eased his own fear: trust. Trust in him. She believed, even after hearing that the spell hadn't been successfully performed since the Founders' time, that he could do this. She believed…
But McGonagall was still speaking. "And here is where all of you may play a part. This spell involves, at its most basic level, a transfer of magical power temporarily from one person to another, increasing the potency of any spell the recipient of that power casts in that time period. It only works, however, when the persons involved share a strong connection, when one person is willing to sacrifice everything, risk everything, for the sake of the other. Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, Molly, Arthur, Remus, I believe you all are the people in this world who care the most for Mr. Potter, who would be willing to take such a risk. I must warn you that this is exceedingly dangerous for both the recipient and the giver of power and has, more often than not, resulted in either the death or complete mental incapacity of one, if not both, of the parties. Your decisions do not need to be made immediately. I can give you all a few days to consider the risk you will be taking and whether you're willing to take it, without any guarantee of success."
There was silence.
Remus had made a strangled sound of surprise when McGonagall explained the spell and both Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had caught their breath sharply. Ron said nothing but Harry could feel the tension in him increase ten-fold. Hermione was the only one in whom there'd been no reaction, either visible or otherwise.
The silence stretched out heavily. Harry looked from his former professor, to the closest things to parents he'd known, his best friend, and Hermione, his dearer-than-friend, and swallowed hard. God, how could he ask this of them? He couldn't let them risk so much, put themselves in so much danger just for his sake, even if the defeat of Voldemort was at stake; he couldn't!
Hermione was the first one to break the silence, her quiet voice sounding as loud as an exploding firecracker would have been, in the tense silence. "I'll do it."
He sucked in his breath sharply at the certainty in her voice, filled with an odd sense of surprise even though he knew, now, just what she would do for him. She'd told him so herself, just weeks ago, that she would die for him. Why, then, was he surprised? And yet he was. As if hearing her promise before, when it had been vague, general, had somehow meant less than this certain commitment to putting her life at risk for his sake…
McGonagall showed no surprise, only nodded. And no one questioned her decision; the strength of her certainty had been clear in her voice when she said those three words, committing herself.
"I'll do it," Remus spoke, equally quietly, looking not at McGonagall but at Harry, with an odd look in his eyes as if he saw not just Harry but James' and Lily's spirits hovering behind their son. He sat up straight in his chair and for the first time, Harry, looking at his former professor, saw past the premature gray in his hair, the worn robes, the look of fatigue in his face, to the strength, both physical and mental, in Remus Lupin. And realized suddenly just how much courage and resilience it must take for Remus to have endured his transformations every month, the fear and rejection of most of wizarding society, and the loss of the only true friends he'd ever had. Remus said nothing more but at that moment, he looked what he was, a powerful wizard and a strong man with a force of will few could have guessed at- despite his usual gentle attitude and his humor.
Again, McGonagall didn't question the decision, only nodding, and there was, in her gaze as she considered her former pupil, a gleam of respect and approval.
She looked at Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and said gravely, "If you both decide you are willing, I warn you that it would be wisest for only one of you to actually perform the spell. In case something goes wrong, you have other children to think of. I cannot, as the teacher of all of your children, possibly permit both of you to take such an immense risk. It is, however, a decision you must make together. I will leave you to consider," she finished, standing and turning to leave.
Remus, Harry and Hermione stood up automatically, going to follow McGonagall and allow the Weasleys privacy, and were halfway to the door when Mrs. Weasley spoke up.
They could hear unshed tears in her voice but her tone was sure. "We'll do it."
Oh God! Harry swallowed hard, feeling a rush of emotion inside him.
They all turned to look at her. She stood up straight, somehow looking dignified despite her plump figure in her shabby, everyday working robes. Her hand was on Mr. Weasley's shoulder. "I will do it," she repeated.
Mr. Weasley nodded, his expression more solemn than Harry had ever seen it.
Harry looked at Ron now and for a moment, their eyes met. Ron, don't do this, he found himself irrationally thinking.
He didn't know if he could bear knowing that everyone he cared about in the world would be putting themselves in danger for him, that their lives literally depended on whatever strength he had. Oh, no, no, no, no, no…
He didn't even dream of trying to convince Hermione to change her mind; he knew she wouldn't listen. He didn't feel he could ask Remus and Mrs. Weasley to change theirs; they were older than he was, had seen and experienced so much more, and Remus was doing it not only for his sake, but for his parents, for Sirius. His throat closed at the thought of his godfather.
But Ron, the first friend he'd made… He had a sudden memory of Dobby, squealing frantically, "Harry Potter has to go into the lake and find his Wheezy and take his Wheezy back from the merpeople!... Your Wheezy, sir, your Wheezy… The thing Harry Potter will miss most, sir!..." And even though he knew, now, that Hermione would be what he missed most, he felt the same sheer dismay of that afternoon well up inside him. Ron-he couldn't lose Ron… As he looked at his best friend in that one oddly drawn-out moment, memories from the past 6 years of friendship flickered through his mind. Meeting Ron on the Hogwarts Express; Ron saying, "Oh, come off it, you don't think we'd let you go alone?" before he went through the trapdoor at the end of 1st year; Ron saying fiercely despite the strain on his face, "If you want to kill Harry, you'll have to kill us too!"; Ron yelling angrily at Karkaroff after the First Task, "What? Four? You lousy biased scumbag, you gave Krum ten!"…
And he saw the decision in Ron's eyes before Ron opened his mouth and said, "Me too."
Oh God…
"So be it," McGonagall said, with an air of finality.
He looked at these people he cared so much for, their familiar faces, these people who had just committed themselves to risking everything for his sake, and felt a surge of emotion well up inside him, closing his throat and filling his mind until all he could hear was the sound of their voices, I'll do it… They had agreed, for him, tacitly acknowledging that they loved him enough in their own ways to sacrifice everything without a second's thought, as Hermione had told him that terrible, wonderful dawn three weeks ago… And suddenly it seemed to him as if the room was closing in around him, stifling him with the weight of his destiny, the lives which these people had just committed to him, for his sake.
He felt himself take a step back automatically, a strangled "No, I can't!" emerging from his stiff lips when what he meant was, You can't. I don't want you to do this for me. He needed to get out, get away, couldn't bear to look at these people when all he could think of was that they had just said they were willing to die for his sake. Something inside him broke and he turned and ran, needing to be outside, needing to be away. Ran as if he could somehow outrun the weight of this destiny.
He ignored the sound of Remus calling him back, "Harry!"; McGonagall's sharper command, "Mr. Potter!"; the appeal in Hermione's voice, "Harry!" and ran, until he was outside of the castle, ran without knowing exactly where he was going until he found himself approaching Hagrid's hut when he slowed down finally.
Hagrid, another friend he'd lost to Voldemort, loyal to the end to Dumbledore… Hagrid who had insisted on remaining behind, disobeying Dumbledore's orders for the first time until Dumbledore had relented, after making sure Harry reached the comparative safety of the other members of the Order… Hagrid, who had introduced him to the wizarding world, first defied the Dursleys for his sake, told him the truth about his parents…
He took a gulping breath of the cool evening air, letting it clear his mind and forcibly trying to calm himself so he could return. He knew he had to return. Knew he had to accept that this spell was going to be attempted. He was struggling against something inevitable. He had seen it in Remus and in the Weasleys when they'd spoken, had felt it in Hermione.
But he couldn't help the rebellion building inside him, the helpless frustration. He should be able to find some way to defeat Voldemort without involving anyone else! It was mainly because of him that Voldemort was targeting any of them, anyway; it was his fault. He should be the one to defeat Voldemort on his own.
But he couldn't. He couldn't; he knew he wasn't strong enough or powerful enough on his own. And he hated the knowledge, hated himself for not being able to do this alone…
"Harry." He wasn't surprised to hear her voice, had been expecting them to send someone to follow him. Had been expecting her because she was naturally the person he turned to for comfort and people knew it.
Somehow the warmth, the sympathy in her voice, bothered him more than anything else and he whirled on her, his hands gripping her shoulders hard. "I can't ask you to do this for me!" he choked hoarsely. "I can't!"
"You're not asking. We're volunteering," Hermione countered, her voice gentle but firm nonetheless. "Harry, you know you can't do this alone. We were never going to let you be alone anyway; this spell is only confirming that."
"It's too risky. You could die, Hermione! And I- I can't risk losing you! You- you mean too much to me. I- I need you too much…" His voice cracked from the intensity of his emotion, his guilt, his fear. "I- you- mmph."
She cut his words off with her lips, flattening herself against him, kissing him hard, as if she could somehow absorb all his guilt, all his fear, into herself. He stiffened then clutched her tightly, his arms closing around her with stunning force.
When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing hard, eyes wide. But as she looked at him, she knew, somehow, that he was calmer now, as if their kiss had sapped him of his anger and his despair.
"We're staying with you, Harry," she said simply.
He allowed his shoulders to slump slightly, accepting the truth of her words. "I know," he admitted softly. "And it tears me up inside but I can't do this without you."
She could see in his eyes just what it cost him to have to admit that and she felt a surge of love well up inside her, filling her heart and mind. But she said nothing more, knew he understood even without words. Instead she only said, "We should be getting back inside. They're waiting for you."
"I know."
They started back towards the castle in silence and as they walked, Harry slipped his hand into hers, holding it tightly in his.
And somehow, in that moment, she knew, knew with a certainty that went to her soul and didn't admit even the shadow of a doubt, that this spell, no matter how advanced it was, would work and it would save him. Nothing powered with so much selfless love could fail… And no power on this earth, including Voldemort's, could stand against this, the power which Harry had in himself already and which would be strengthened further by what this spell would give him: the power that came from willingly risking everything, giving everything, for the sake of another person…