Disclaimer: OK, you should hopefully have this down by now. JKR owns Harry Potter and Company. Fred Saberhagen owns the Swords. I own virtually worthless bit characters, plus a T100 truck. ;)
A/N: I know she's not expecting this anymore, but I promised. This chapter is dedicated to SamanthaMarie. Thanks for just being my friend. I couldn't ask for a better buddie.
CHAPTER EIGHT: RETURNING LIGHT
It was in the dawn's gray hours that the foursome finally came within sight of Hogwarts Castle. Harry hadn't noticed when he had left, but there were several chunks taken out of the front of the castle, doubtless from the attack by Voldemort. It was in that moment when he realized there must have been more casualties than he had originally realized. Death Eaters wouldn't have attacked with just Stunners, Disarmers and Hexes. They would have used Unforgivables. Including the Killing Curse.
He shuddered, in part from the cool morning breeze, in part from the thought that perhaps some of the staff had lain dead when he had left, and he hadn't even thought about it. He suddenly felt sick in his stomach as he was gripped by a terrible feeling of helplessness and remorse. While the Sword of Mercy, Woundhealer, could heal any living being, it could do nothing for the dead.
They were met outside the entrance hall by Professor Dumbledore, who looked somewhat ragged still. Sirius turned back into a dog after handing off Woundhealer to Harry and giving Dumbledore a respectful nod. Harry sheathed Shieldbreaker and gripped Woundhealer firmly. For the first time he noticed its marking: an open human hand. With grim resolve he spoke up.
Dumbledore grasped Lupin's hand. "Remus, so it was you who had it all along?"
Lupin nodded softly, his eyes deepening. "Yes, Albus. I'm sorry I've been out of contact; if I had known…"
Dumbledore waved a hand dismissively. "What is important now is that we have the Sword. That is all that matters."
Neville spoke up. "Er… Professor… Actually there's one other thing." Dumbledore turned to him, respectfully waiting for Neville to continue. Neville seemed almost strangled, speaking in such a manner to Dumbledore. "We encountered… Draco Malfoy… He had a Sword."
Lupin cut in. "Yes, I almost forgot to mention. Young Mr. Malfoy met these two on their way. He apparently was armed with Doomgiver. This morning, he had vanished. We suspected then that he might be off to warn Voldemort, so we made haste to escape."
Dumbledore nodded gravely. "This turn of events is dangerous indeed. If Voldemort has the Sword of Justice, we all are in severe danger."
Lupin surveyed the scene. "Casaulties?" he muttered, in a tone far more casual than Harry could have imagine was possible for such a question.
Dumbledore sighed heavily. "None killed, fortunately. Several wounded. Almost the entire staff is locked in the dungeons."
Harry was growing impatient, the thought of those in the dungeons turning his mind to Ron and Hermione, and cut in. "I'd like to get this done as soon as I can, Professor."
Dumbledore gazed down on him with a calm demeanor, brightness finally returning to his twinkling blue eyes after they had been so dull and lifeless the last time Harry had seen him. "Yes, Harry of course. This way."
Dumbledore led Harry back down to the dungeons. Harry could barely contain his excitement, wanting to get this all over and done with. He wanted Hermione back the way she was. He wanted to tell her everything. He felt bursting at the seams, emotions threatening to force their way through the cracks of the walls he had built about himself over time. The anticipation was killing him.
Hermione's cell was one of the furthest from the door, so she would be one of the last. Harry wanted to hurry, so much he felt himself shaking slightly. He stepped to the first person, Professor Flitwick, and paused. He turned to Lupin. "Er… You are sure about this, right?"
Lupin nodded. "Thrust the Sword into them, Harry. I swear it will do them no harm."
Harry looked at the Sword glittering in his quivering hands. He found it impossible to believe this would work. Still, he had to trust Lupin. He moved closer to the bars and drove the blade into Flitwick's unconscious body. There was a gasping sound, like a human sighing. Harry was puzzled for a moment; he hadn't seen Flitwick's lips move. Then he realized this was the Sword making that sound. Harry looked at Flitwick. There appeared to be no change.
"He doesn't look any different."
Dumbledore laid a hand on Harry's shoulder. "That is because the damage is in their minds, not their bodies. Should you wish to see the powers of this Sword with your own eyes, I suggest that you touch Mr. Weasely with it."
He gently pushed Harry further down the way towards Ron… And Hermione. Harry eagerly stepped forward, not wanting to run, but quickening his pace. He slowed and stopped before Ron's cell. He looked deathly pale.
Harry turned to Dumbledore. "Do you know what's wrong with him? Shouldn't Madame Pomfrey be able to heal him?"
Dumbledore sighed heavily. "I think I know some of it. Ron's wounds were grievous, Harry. He very nearly died. He had been impaled many times, several of his limbs were broken, half his ribs were cracked, and there was vast internal damage. Not even Madame Pomfrey could heal all his injuries. We were not sure if he would survive long enough for you to come."
Harry suddenly became angry. His friend was mortally wounded, yet remained here with the rest of them. "But shouldn't he be in the hospital wing then? If he's so hurt…"
Dumbledore waved a hand gently. "Harry… There is nothing Madame Pomfrey could have done. It would also be easier to prevent him from hurting himself or others were he here."
Harry thought back to the battle. Ron hadn't seemed so hurt then. He had fought like a madman. A man possessed. He couldn't have done what he did so harmed. "But, Professor, I don't understand. He was bleeding bad, I mean, but he didn't seem…"
Dumbledore sighed heavily, and his aged face looked at Harry. "It was the magic of Townsaver, Harry. As long as he fought to save innocents in a held place, he could not be killed while he held it. No matter how dreadful, how severe his injuries, it's magic kept him fighting. But after he ceased to be protecting them… It's magic left him. Now, Harry, touch him with the Sword of Mercy."
Harry stared in at his friend. He couldn't comprehend then what Ron must have gone through. Why couldn't he have controlled the Sword, to help save his own life? But then… Harry couldn't control his own Sword. It controlled him. He turned to face Ron lying on the cold bench, pale as death, his shirt still soaked with blood, visible injuries only half-healed. And he pressed the razor sharp point into Ron's belly.
Instantly, there was the sighing sound, and before Harry's eyes, Ron's wounds sealed themselves. Harry removed the Sword and dropped it from his quaking grasp. He went to Ron, lifted his shirt. His wounds, all of them were sealed. Ron's breath didn't rasp like it had when Harry arrived. Instead, he seemed to be in some eternal peace. His face was fixed in a look of utter contentment.
"Ron," he whispered. Ron didn't stir. Harry grasped his friend's shoulder tightly and stood, picking the Sword back up where he had dropped it. No one else had moved. Harry exited the cell and stared into the one next to it. There lay Hermione.
Her eyes were closed and she appeared to be sleeping. But her eyelids quivered, and her face seemed to be going through some inner turmoil. Harry could only imagine what she dreamt of. Harry stared at her for a long moment, gazing upon his friend, the girl he loved. As his mind turned to when he saw her last, a tear dripped down his cheek. He was suddenly aware that his eyes were burning. Ashamed, he quickly wiped his face and stepped into the cell. He paused before her, blade pointed at her chest.
And he stopped. He had seen what the Sword had done fore the others, true… But somehow this seemed different. He was pointing as razor-edged steel blade at Hermione, preparing to thrust it's metal into her unsuspecting body. Somehow it didn't seem right. Hesistation wracked him. But his thoughts turned back to what she had said…
Kill you! I'll kill you!
His eyes watering again, her maddened voice echoing in his mind, he squeezed his eyes tightly shut and pushed his hands forward. He heard a gasp; not the one from the Sword. He looked. A small gasp had escaped Hermione's lips. Her eyes fluttered for a moment, then lay silently still.
Harry was suddenly aware of the blade lodged against her ribs, and withdrew the Sword. He stared into her face, and tentatively reached out a hand, stroking her cheek lightly. She sighed contentedly, twisting slightly. Harry swallowed hard and stood very slowly. He handed the Sword off to Dumbledore. "I… I have to go… I can't finish. I'm sorry, Professor." He didn't even wait for Dumbledore's assenting nod, though he caught it in his peripheral. Harry ran out of the dungeon and out to the lake.
He stood there for long moments, staring out across the pristine waters, remembering all the times he had with Hermione. He wanted her back so bad. He was sure he had cured her, but he was afraid of breaking down in front of them all. He had always been able to hold back before, and hadn't cried in so long.
"Harry?" murmured a tentative voice. He turned his head. It was Ginny. She stepped down to stand beside him. "You're back," she said simply.
He nodded. "I'm back."
"And did you find what you were looking for?"
Harry pondered that thought for a moment. His mind flew through his entire life in those silent moments as the water sloshed quietly in the background, a slight breeze in the air, and the sun casting rays of warmth across his face. What was he looking for? All his life he had wanted only one thing… He turned to her. "I found what I was looking for before I left. But while I was gone, I found what I needed to save it, and bring it back to me."
Ginny looked at him, her eyes flickering across his face, studying his expression. "I understand."
There was little more to say. So they stood there together, watching the waves beat slowly against the shore.
Ginny left him after a few minutes. He hardly noticed. His gaze still looked into eternity across the smooth waters, watching the sun slowly rise higher into the sky. It was nearly midday by the time he finally made his way across the grass back up to the castle. His mind was still a thousand miles away when he entered the Great Hall. But as he did, there was suddenly a hush as loud as anything he had ever heard. He stopped.
Everyone was staring at him, standing there in the doorway. Then slowly, as a unit, they all began to rise and applaud. One part of Harry's mind reflected that there certainly were a lot of people in the Hall at the moment. He wasn't sure what to do or say. So he said nothing at all. His feet were planted on the spot. It took more than a minute for the clapping to quiet down. Professor Dumbledore rose from the head table to speak.
"I took the liberty of informing the students and staff who it was who accomplished the task of retrieving the Sword which heals all wounds, Harry. And you will be happy to know that all who were afflicted by the Mindsword are now awake and fully healed."
Harry started for a moment. He looked at the staff table. Sure enough, there was Professor Flitwick, and McGonagall, and Birmingham. His heart seized as he knew what that also must mean. He looked to the Gryffindor table. A tall lanky boy with fiery red hair, and a girl with curly brown hair slowly stood, smiling at him like they were seeing him for the first time in years. And he reflected that in a way they were.
Harry's own face broke into a huge grin, and he started walking towards them, slowly speeding to a run. Ron and Hermione both seized him in one massive hug, practically squeezing the air out of him. He didn't care. He had them back from the darkness. Ron clapped him heavily and the shoulder after withdrawing, while Hermione clung to him still, her eyes watered, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Ron looked at him, as if unsure what to say. "Harry… Thanks. For everything."
Harry looked at his friend. "Ron, there's no need to say anything. I did what I had to do. And I had help." Harry looked pointedly at Neville, who flushed.
Hermione gazed at Harry, her eyes reddened. "Harry… I… I remember everything that happened while we were being… influenced… I…" Her voice cracked and broke off.
Harry, on impulse, took her into his arms, holding her close. She rested her face against his shoulder, her body wracked with sobs. Harry suddenly felt as if the world around him was disappearing.
He stared into Hermione's eyes for a long moment. "Hermione… I… I don't know how to say this…"
She stared back at him, not daring to take her eyes off his. For once in her life, she wanted not to look away when he looked into her eyes. She wanted to lose herself in them. "Then just say it."
He swallowed hard. "Hermione, I…" He broke off.
But somehow she already knew. She knew what it was he wanted to say. "I know Harry. And I love you just the same." Her mind reached back-was it only a week ago?-to when Ginny and she had sat by the lake discussing love. She had known then that Harry was the only one for her. And now, as she held him tightly in her arms, she saw that he felt the same way. She hadn't believed it possible, but it was there, etched on his face, in his eyes, in his soul.
Harry's hand reached out tentatively to stroke her cheek. She held it there with one hand. "I love you Hermione," he whispered, and he held her, as if he let her go now, she would fade from him forever.
Harry suddenly heard a whisper in his ear… And it sounded somehow like his parents' voices that he had heard last year… Kiss her already…
And so Harry leaned in, eyes fluttering, lowering his head so his lips could meet hers. And she responded instantly, curving her neck upwards, lips pursed to meet his. And when their lips touched, it was like lightning passing between them.
Harry reflected for only an instant that how could something that only weeks ago have seemed so wrong now felt so right. That in fact nothing else in the world could feel more right. And as they both leaned into the kiss, desperately needing the others touch, they didn't even notice the thunderous applause around them of the still-crowded Great Hall.
A/N: Thanks to all who reviewed. BTW, I hope I didn't make anyone cry… Misstake did when she beta-read for me, so… OK, reviewers. Thanks to: Msscribe, XxKkAnGxX, Batgirl, yurimionepotter, Spencer Nassau, Brandie, Takeda Lee, Misstake, HermioneGranger 4 ever, Hallie, AnimeFanatic, Quis, Emma, Sandra, Soulshine, Blazefury, Catark, Ranma, Betemagus Prime, kinicky21, and padawan leia.
Questions, and hopefully answers:
Yurimionepotter: Yes, Lupin is healed for all time. I suppose he could be a Professor, but I lack a spot for him. The Sword of Justice only influences the individual under certain instances. It has a very archaic "eye for an eye" sense of justice. Malfoy didn't think he could get away with it. Remember Neville had Coinspinner which can warn against duplicity at times. No one's holding Soulcutter, but it being unsheathed there is enough. Harry could do that, I suppose…
Spencer Nassau: No, the Swords Series is a series of books written by Fred Saberhagen, a very popular Fantasy writer. Like I said, I don't own them.
Quis: You can't use it without suffering its effects, unless you also have Shieldbreaker. It's an evil Sword. That's why Voldemort put it in the hands of his enemies.
Blazefury: Unfortunately, yes I had to make him evil. Sorry. ;)