Prologue
It had all happened so quickly. How could he have possibly known? He had been left out of the plan on purpose he thought bitterly. He thought he knew why, but it did little to comfort him. There at his feet was Ron and Hermione. He wanted to run as far and as fast as he could, but where could he go? Where could he hide? How was he going to explain this to Dumbledore, to Lupin, to Ginny, to Hagrid, to Mrs. Weasley?
I… I never meant for this to happen… I had no idea. They were dressed just like death-eaters. They had even conjured the dark mark. He was hidden so very well. He was supposed to be at number12 Grimmauld Place. He had been told to wait until Snape could come and explain what he was supposed to do. Harry hated waiting and he hated being trapped there all alone, with nothing to think about but Sirius's death. So, he left and set out for Knockturn Alley.
There had been a note on the table that was scratched out in a hurry:
Lupin,
Albus has asked us to all meet at the entrance to Knockturn Alley. There are some wizards who want to join our cause. We need to protect them at all costs, until we can get them to safety. Please hurry.
Tonks
Harry had made his way there and tried to discover everyone's whereabouts. He thought that it would be alright if he simply watched from under his invisibility cloak. Then he saw them; the death-eaters must have discovered the plan. There were two of them coming down the alley. One of them lifted their wand out and cast the mark that would be seen by the others. What if he was too late? He had to stop them. So, he did. His anger and frustration at getting left behind again had gotten the better of him. He unleashed everything he could think of on them, until their bodies lay quiet in the street.
He was not happy when he discovered them not moving at all. Not even breathing. He really had not meant to kill them. He was not a murderer. At least that was how he comforted himself until he lifted the hoods from their cloaks.
All the blood left his face. His chest tightened up into a knot of horror. There they lay completely still. Hermione's eyes were wide open and staring with dread. Ron's eyes were still closed as if flinching from his onslaught. He knelt beside them and placed his hands gently on their necks. There was no heartbeat from either one. His recklessness had killed the only two people in the world that truly knew him. He had no chance to say goodbye, or to tell them how important they both were to him. Again, Harry found himself alone in the world. Only this time, he had done it to himself, by committing the worst of atrocities. He had murdered his friends. There was no coming back from this, there was only darkness smothered with consequences suffocating in tragedy.
He wanted to cry, but the shock was too deep. A voice inside him whispered, "Run, Harry, Run… before they find you… before they learn what you've done."
His fear was so thick, that his only thoughts were of self-preservation. He was no longer The-boy-who-lived. He was no longer a hero. He was not even Harry Potter anymore. He was a desperate killer and now he had to run. There would be no forgiveness.
A thought began to form in his mind. It was difficult to think at all, but this thought he could not shake. He turned and began to run. There was only one place he could go now.
--- ---
The veil stood before him, right where he had remembered it. Harry could hear the voices from the other side and they sounded much closer now. Some of them were whispers and some of them were frighteningly clear. There were so many of them, that he could not make any one of them out. After awhile he convinced himself they were declaring terrible judgment on him. Like some angry court of wizards and witches whose voices were rising in an awful crescendo against him.
Harry knew it was only a matter of time before Dumbledore found him; before all of them found him. He could almost see the thunder in their eyes. Mouthing words of hate and anguish. In some kind of defense, he lifted his arms up to his head, as if they could shield the images from his mind.
Realizing how useless it was to hold them there he lowered his arms down again. He turned back toward the veil and stood with a hesitant look on his face.
"… Hermione? … Ron? … Are you there? …"
There was no answer discernable in the discordant symphony of voices that emanated from beyond the strange veil.
"I'm so terribly sorry. Please… please forgive me," he said quietly.
There were voices coming from behind the door on the other side of the room. They were living voices and Harry was sure he knew who they were. Did he have the strength to face them? Would they understand that it was a terrible accident? Would Mrs. Weasley put her arms around Harry and comfort him? He wanted that so badly that he began to shake. The tears were finally coming now. He could not stop them even if he tried. They flowed and he began to gulp his breaths.
No, that's not how it would happen. That's not how it would happen at all he thought. Her eyes would be cold, angry and unforgiving. She would point her finger at him and scream `murderer'. `You killed my sweet, sweet Ron.' She would grab him and shake him as she screamed in his face. Harry began to sob openly. His body wracked with a terrible guilt that could never be healed. He imagined that Ron's mother would step out of the way so he could see the room filled with unforgiving faces. He could see the Weasleys with a terrible darkness in their gaze. The emotional distance between them might as well have been the deepest canyon. He could see the bitter disappointment in Dumbledore's eyes. `Harry I trusted you, but I will NEVER make that mistake again.' There wands all pointing towards him.
He fell to his knees and began to curl into a tight ball on the ground. His sobs turned into long moans of wrenching agony. They would all hate him, the way he hated himself.
"Hermione… please save me…"
Harry was surprised to hear his own voice calling out to her in this his darkest moment. The bitter taste in his mouth reminded him that she would not come. She could not come. She was dead.
The voices were very close now. The handle on the door began to move. Harry pulled himself up to his knees. He could not face them. All of his bravery was gone and he was left with nothing; nothing but a dark scar of emptiness on his forehead. The door began to open. He stood weakly up, but could not stop his shaking or crying. The door swung wide and the voices stopped. They had all come. They were all here. There was nowhere to go. Harry began to hyperventilate. They could see him. The murderer… the madman.
Harry cried out, "Hermione! Ron! Please help me! Please!"
He became frantic and felt as if he were chained to this moment in time. He turned his body to the left and then to the right and back again. He had to run. He had to run. He had to run. He turned toward the veil. He stopped. He blinked twice and then without a sound simply walked through. He felt himself falling into the nothingness of death that swallowed him without question.
If only he had stayed for a moment longer. If only he could have seen through the shadowy haze of grief. He would have seen something far different than he had imagined. Dumbledore's deep sadness, paired with his gentle wisdom. He had come to take Harry away from all of this. Lupin, Tonks, Dobby, Fred, George, Ginny, Arthur Weasley, McGonagall, Hagrid, and even Snape had all come for him. They had come to bring Harry back to The Burrow. Where Molly Weasley was weeping with agony, but also longing to pull Harry close to her. To mourn with him this terrible loss. She had resolved to hold him and cry with him for as long as it took to ease both of their suffering.
--- ---
She had been waiting for half the night; waiting for Arthur to bring Harry home. She had told Dumbledore in no uncertain terms that Harry was going to live with them from now on and she would not accept any other possibility. The front door opened and Arthur walked in. Molly looked up in anticipation. Harry was not with him.
"Arthur?"
The Weasley patriarch could barely look her in the eye.
"Molly. Harry isn't coming. He… he's gone."
"What do you mean? Where did he go?" she asked with a note of desperation in her voice.
Arthur did not have to answer. The look in his eyes told her everything she needed to know. There were no longer two children to mourn for, there was now three.
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